Taken - Page 44

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Jane cradled the packet of Oreos in her hands for a long time. She touched the cookies through the cellophane as she counted them. Twelve entire cookies, just for her. Was it a trick? A trap? As soon as she opened the packet, would Robert leap out from a hiding place and grab them away? Or had Brenda laced them with poison, giving Jane the ultimate last supper?

No. She had the strong impression that Robert had gone behind Brenda’s back in giving her the cookies. And he wasn’t hiding anywhere nearby—she’d seen him go up the stairs. She’d heard him close the door after he’d clicked off the lights. She was alone.

And she had twelve cookies all to herself.

Her stomach, empty for so long, gurgled with anticipation, her taste buds tingling. What did it mean that she still wanted these cookies when her life was probably hanging by its last thread?

Where there’s life, there’s hope, she reminded herself silently.

True, she hadn’t escaped in the water, but then, she hadn’t really expected to—not in her heart of hearts. But that didn’t mean all hope was lost. She still had the combination to her cage lock. Maybe tonight she’d make her run for it—she’d open the cage door and this time she’d slip out. She imagined herself silently padding up the stairs. She would tiptoe to where they hung their keys near the garage door entrance and choose the Porsche keys, quite a step up from her old Ford. She would open the door to the garage and, as stealthy as a thief, slide silently behind the wheel. Starting the engine, she would speed away into the night…

Except that she could barely move. The welts on her back and ass throbbed, the skin tight and hot to the touch. Every joint and muscle in her body screamed with exhaustion and pain. What she wouldn’t give to be able to lie outstretched in a big, clean bed with a plump pillow under her head, instead of curled into a ball on filthy, stinking blankets behind bars in a dank basement.

She stared up at her window. The moon had risen, its light casting a silvery glow over the room. “You can’t give up,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the night beyond her prison. “Time’s running out. You’ve got to try.”

She would. She would find a way. And she would do it soon.

But right now, she needed to focus on getting her strength back before she could realistically think about escape. She shifted along the cage until her mouth was level with the metal spigot of her water bottle. Closing her lips around it, she took a long drink. The water was soothing against her sore throat.

Once her thirst was sated, she returned her attention to the cookies still clutched in her hand. She tore open the wrapper and lifted out an Oreo, inhaling its rich fragrance. She looked critically at the cookie. Was it her imagination, or were Oreos smaller than they used to be when she was a kid?

Treats had been few and far between at their house when she was little, but a package of Oreos did appear from time to time in the pantry. She and her brother would fight over them. He, being two years older and quite a bit bigger, generally won the fight. But he would always relent and give her what was left, once he’d eaten enough to make himself sick.

She would take her small, glorious stack of cookies to her secret hideout under the porch. One at a time, she would unscrew the chocolate wafers and scrape off the delicious cream in the middle with her teeth. Then she would eat the chocolate remains in tiny bites, happiness suffusing her from head to toe.

The memory almost made her smile. Now she lifted the cookie to her lips and popped the entire thing into her mouth. Sweet, crunchy chocolate with a hint of salt combined with the sugary cream in the center was like heaven against her tongue. She groaned softly with pleasure as she chewed. Her stomach fully awake now, she ate another cookie and then another. She’d planned to have only have a few and hoard the rest for later, but she couldn’t seem to stop eating them.

After all, who knew what “later” would bring? Whatever it was, at least she’d face it with cookies in her belly. When the last one was gone, she licked away the crumbs on her fingers and managed a small smile. With an almost contented sigh, she curled again into herself, closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.

Chapter 13

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

Jane opened her eyes, startled to see Robert squatting in front of her cage. It was a rare morning that she wasn’t already wide awake and tensed for any sound of the basement door opening and footsteps on the stairs.

Tags: Claire Thompson Romance
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