LOST (Captive Heart #1) by Carrie Aarons

Author:Carrie Aarons [Aarons, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-05-26T04:00:00+00:00

23

Tucker

I used to freaking love Halloween.

Well … correction. I used to freaking love Mischief Night. What can I say, I was … and apparently still am, an arrogant shithead.

I’d plan my pranks for weeks, staking out the perfect houses and the perfect tricks to play. Smashed pumpkins, fiery dogshit, toilet-papered trees … I’d done it all.

As I got older of course, the pranks between my friends and I got raunchier and seedier. Stealing chicks’ underwear and hanging them on the satellite dishes on their houses. Replacing people’s water bottles with vodka. Taping sanitary pads to my friends’ windshields.

Like I said, I’m an asshole.

But I can’t help but perk up when the radio host on the program I’ve been listening to for a week and a half, ever since I found this old piece of junk, says that its Halloween. That’s the thing about being in hiding. After a couple of weeks, I’ve stopped keeping track.

Of course I’m always on guard, any little sound during the night and I’m shooting up off the cabin floor, keys and getaway items at the ready.

But so far, and from everything I’ve gotten from the radio, the police are nowhere close to tracking us down. They could be, and just aren’t telling the radio the entire story—which is very likely. Or they just really have no idea where we are.

It’s likely. We left no trail; I doubt they could make out my face on the security cameras.

I’m surprised Charlotte hasn’t cracked yet, and that she hasn’t tried to escape. For some odd reason, she seems at peace here. She’s only made it through a third of the books in the “library” and seems happy to sit in her cabin or in the recreation building all day and just read.

Looks like I’m a fucking genius when it comes to kidnapping and hiding, because without one bit of planning I took us to the one place we will never run out of food. We don’t have to leave to get any kind of supplies thanks to the Marsh’s and their well-stocked mess hall and canteen.

But it’s starting to get cold. And the weather is only going to get chillier. I’m not sure what we will do when December and the snow hits. We can’t turn on the heat, the Marsh’s will notice when they pay a higher than normal energy bill.

But I can’t worry about that. Whenever I start to worry, I start to psych myself out. My hands shake and my brain feels like someone’s cracked it open into a pan and has decided to scramble it for breakfast. And in those moments, I want a fix so bad that I would claw out my own eyes if someone would shoot me up with drugs.

So I don’t worry. I run until I can’t feel my feet or my lungs, and then do push-ups until I can’t feel my arms. I look for things to fix around the camp, because if I’m squatting here illegally I might as well try to do something nice for the people who were so nice to me all of those years ago.

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