At last he pushed back from the table and belched loudly. Grinning at her, he patted his belly.
“Now it’s time for the champagne!” he exclaimed, and pulled out another bottle.
The “champagne” turned out to be Welch’s Grape juice, much to Sammi’s relief. She didn’t want to drink anything alcoholic because it might hurt the babies.
That’s right, the babies—my girls, she thought as she watched her captor pour the dark purple juice into the tall champagne flutes. They’re the reason I have to live—have to get out of here. Whatever happens, I have to survive so I can raise my twins!
Feeling renewed determination, she raised her flute when her captor proposed a toast. Here was something else that could be a weapon, she thought, looking at the flute. Except instead of actual crystal or glass as she had first thought, it was just cheap plastic—too flimsy to hurt anyone.
“To our date, Beautiful.” Sonny-boy raised his glass and drained the purple juice in one gulp.
“To our date,” Sammi murmured, though the words tasted like ashes in her mouth. She also took a sip of the juice, though she didn’t drain the glass like her captor had.
“Well…” He slapped the glass back down on the table in apparent satisfaction and licked his lips. “That was delicious! Now it’s time for dancing.”
“Dancing?” Sammi looked up at him uncertainly.
“Sure—you taught me how to dance, don’t you remember?” he demanded, frowning at her. “Right before the prom? But then you got mad and said I shouldn’t take that whore, Sara Daniels to the dance. You told me you were the one I ought to take—remember, Beautiful?”
“I…I did?” Sammi asked.
He glared at her.
“Of course you did! You always had to remind me you were the most beautiful one of all—remember? Remember how you called me your ‘handsome Sonny-boy’ and I always called you ‘Beautiful?’ Remember? Remember?”
He was making the angry bear face again. Sammi felt her stomach knot with fright.
“Of course, I remember, my handsome Sonny-boy,” she said quickly. “How could I forget?”
“Good.” He nodded and gave her a warning glare. “It’s good you remember, Beautiful. I would hate to have to do anything to you to jog your memory, you know?”
Sammi stared at him in horror. She thought she was beginning to recognize the roots of her captor’s fantasy. A controlling mother and a bad childhood must be the cause of his psychosis. It was sad, of course, but nothing could excuse stalking and kidnapping women the way he had done to her. Especially since he seemed to realize he was acting out a fantasy and was demanding that she play along.
“Come on.” Standing, he offered her his arm again and Sammi had no choice but to rise and take it.
Sonny-boy led her out into the living area. The sitcom on the TV had changed to a scene of couples slow dancing with the girls leaning against the boys as they swayed to the music.
“This is perfect!” Sonny-boy exclaimed, grinning. “Come on, Beautiful—let’s dance.”
Before Sammi could object, he yanked her into his arms. Squeezing her tight so that her face was pressed uncomfortably close to his chest, he began humming along with the music coming from the TV and swaying roughly back and forth.
Jerked around like a rag doll, Sammi could do little to control the situation. As before, she found it horrifying in the extreme to be so close to her captor. It wasn’t just the fact that she was scared to death of him either. It had to do with his smell, she thought. It was wrong somehow. Besides the fact that he smelled like stale sweat and spaghetti sauce and canned clams, there was also the fact that his scent was not the right one.
It’s not right because it’s not Roark, whispered a little voice in her head. Admit it, Sammi—even the most expensive cologne in the world would smell wrong to you if it didn’t smell like Roark.
Which was true. She desperately missed Roark’s dark, spicy scent. Sonny-boy’s reek was bad, but it was made worse by the fact that her entire body seemed to reject the idea of being with anyone who wasn’t the big Shadow Twin.
I wish Roark was here now, she thought, tears pricking her eyelids. I know he hates me now but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t stand by and let me get raped and murdered. Oh, Roark—I’m in so much trouble! If only you were here to help me!
To her surprise, she seemed to hear Roark’s voice in her head. It was as clear as when Meg had called her on the think-me, but much more intimate somehow.
“I’m coming, my darling! Just hold on, I’m coming to you as fast as I can!”
Sammi stiffened with shock—not that her captor noticed. He just kept jerking her back and forth like she was a living mannequin he was pretending to dance with.