Chapter 11

Almost an hour later, we pull into a property. One that looks abandoned.

A farm.

Ryder drives onto it and stops in front of an old, shabby-looking house surrounded by dirt. An old couple is sitting on the porch.

He gets out of the car and walks around to me, opening the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan!" He yells as he pulls me out of the car. I am sick and tired of him grabbing me whenever he feels like he can. I yank my arm from his grasp. He glares at me and grabs the sweater from the car, throwing it at my face. My mouth drops.

The nerve!

"Forñay! Everything is set up! Just the way you like it!" The older man yells in an Irish accent.

"Thank you, sir!"

The woman on the porch looks up at me and smiles. She's very pale, and her braided hair is very long and gray. The older man is chewing on tobacco. I give a disgusted look as he spits onto his porch.

The woman smiles at Ryder and starts to rock on her chair, humming a tune I've never heard.

Ryder walks to the front of the car and grabs his metal suitcase.

Oh no, I tell myself! This old couple probably lets him kill on their property.

They chop the person up after Ryder kills them and feeds them to the pigs or whatever animals they have around here. I look around nervously. Ryder will probably pay them handsomely for it too.

Ryder grabs me by my arm and leads me down a dirt path, rocks on both sides. There are no trees or grass. I don't even see any buildings or other homes anywhere near this property.

"I can walk. Thank you!" I snap at him, yanking my arm away from him.

"I'm sure you can." He sighs, continuing to walk.

"Where are we going anyway? I don't see anything but dirt and rocks."

"Over there," he says as he points. "There's a barn."

I stop and squint. I see a tiny blip in the distance.

"Are you serious?! Is this my punishment?! You're going to make me walk to my death!? Do you see how far it is?! I am wearing flats! I can feel every pebble with every step I take! I'll never make it!"

Ryder stops and throws his head back. I know I am annoying. I don't care! Why should I have to walk that far?

"Need me to carry you, princess?" Ryder grins at me and drops his suitcase, walking towards me.

"No! What are you doing?! Stop it!" I yell, throwing my hands up.

Ryder casually lifts me over his shoulder. His right hand cradling my ass.

I am appalled! How dare he?!

"Put me down!" I begin punching his back. He bends his knees, picks up his suitcase, and starts walking again.

"I will put you down if you shut up the hell up! I don't want to hear another word until we reach the barn." I can tell he is wearing his creepy, unemotional face.

As he walks, my head bops around, and I am looking at the trail of black dirt upside down. I cling to the back of his shirt, nervous I'll fall.

How humiliating!

I am even offended that he makes it seem like I talk too much. "You want me to shut up?! As if I talk too much! God, you are so annoying!"

"No. You're the one being annoying. Yes or no, Samantha? Are you going to be quiet? I have no problem carrying you all the way."

I can't believe this! In all the years I've been alive, I've never been accused of talking too much. That honor always went to my mother.

"Fine!" I yell. I want to be as far as possible from this lunatic anyway.

Ryder stops and drops the suitcase. He carefully removes me from over his shoulder and puts me gently on the ground.

I take the opportunity and swing my fist to his face, taking two steps forward. Of course, I miss him. Ryder sidesteps, putting his foot out and tripping me.

I brace for the face plant that is approaching. I don't even have time to put my hands up when I feel Ryder's hand grab my arm. He then yanks me back up toward him.

We stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

This is awkward and, once again, humiliating!

Still holding my arm, Ryder looks as if he will say something but then stops himself.

"I hate when you do that! Stop pulling on my arm!" I yell at the top of my voice, pushing him away from me. Of course, he doesn't move an inch. It infuriates me to no end. He keeps treating me like a damn rag doll!

Ryder shakes his head, his brows furrowing. "Stop being a brat. It's unbecoming. And you are welcome. You would've kissed the dirt if I didn't grab you." He grabs his suitcase and begins walking again.

"Is this fun for you?!" I yell again, walking a couple of steps behind him. Ryder shakes his head.

"Why are we going to this stupid barn, and why couldn't you drive us there? You could've driven that godforsaken death trap you call a car onto this path! Don't you pay that old couple enough?! Scared to get those tires dirty?" I laugh as I turn around. I want to see how far we've walked thus far.

Disappointment washes over me when I notice we haven't walked that far at all. Maybe a hundred feet. I can still see the car and the old couple sitting on their porch.

I'm getting so sick of this! He should put me out of my misery instead of making me walk. "Are you finally going to kill me?! God, I hope you are! Another day with you-"

Not paying attention, I walk right into Ryder. He suddenly grabs the back of my neck, pulling me towards him. His nose is touching mine.

"Maybe I should kill you right this second," he seethes. "No one here will care! And up until now, I enjoyed the walk to the barn. Any other questions, Miss Hallowell?"

I am so scared. Why did I keep antagonizing him?

He continues. "You keep talking, and you will disappear off the face of the earth. Do you understand me?" Ryder doesn't wait for my reply. He turns his head slightly and lets me go. I can tell he is cursing me out, in his head, as he walks away from me.

I compose myself as I look around.

"I'll make you disappear..." I mock in a whispering tone and roll my eyes.

It takes thirty minutes to reach the barn, and my feet are hurting a lot. Ryder slides open the door and ushers me in.

I hesitate to walk inside but do so anyway. Ryder's giving me a look. Daring me to complain. It's best just to do as I'm told.

The place is completely dark, and the air feels stuffy. He then walks in and turns towards the wall, hitting a light switch. The lights come on, and it really does a horrible job illuminating this place.

The entire place is empty. I take a step forward and notice in the middle of the barn stands a table. About fifteen feet from the table stands a scarecrow.

It looks like it has seen better days. There's a brand new bullseye positioned in the middle of its chest. The scarecrow is against the back wall of the barn.

I then notice a big, metallic sheet covering the wall behind the scarecrow.

"Come here!" Ryder barks as he places the suitcase on the table and opens it.

I hadn't noticed he walked ahead.

He pulls out a gun and cartridges loaded with bullets. Is he going to shoot the scarecrow?

I hesitate but walk towards him.

Is he going to replace the scarecrow with me? Is this how I die?

"Using me as target practice?" I am dead serious.

Ryder sighs. "Really, Sam?" He looks over at me like I have just said something idiotic.

Then it hits me as he shakes his head and begins laying guns out on the table.

"I-I've never shot a gun before. Aren't you worried I'll turn around and shoot you?" I ask, standing closer to him. He has four different guns sitting on the table. That makes me uneasy.

He rolls his head and puts the last gun on the table, crossing his arms. He looks me up and down, unamused. "You can try and shoot me," he says, taking a step towards me. "But by the time it takes you to turn your head, this would've happened..."

I stare at him in confusion. What is he talking about? And that's when I feel the cold barrel of another gun. I look down at it. It's the one I had pointed at him earlier. He has it nestling my left hip.

I am terrified to move.

Why is he giving me shooting lessons when all he does is threaten me? Does he hate me that much?

"Stand here," Ryder says, taking the gun away from my hip and pointing to the other side. It's where he wants me to stand. He places his gun back into his holster and grabs a small gun from the suitcase.

I swallow nervously. Then I inhale slowly as I walk around him.

Maybe I should see this as a good thing. I could use this lesson, or whatever this is, when it is time to escape.

He stands behind me, taking my arms and placing the gun in my hands. My hands tremble as he makes me point towards the scarecrow.

"Don't put your finger on the trigger until I say so. Understand me?"

I look at him and nod. I am so nervous!

"Now open your legs, slightly." Ryder places his hand on my thigh. I freeze under his touch. I close my eyes and do as I'm told.

"Further. All right. Now, listen to me..."

He stands next to me. My body starts to shake uncontrollably. This is beyond nerve-wracking. He places a hand on my shoulder and tells me to relax.

Ryder then grabs my hands, steadying them. "Breathe in and out again. Concentrate on the scarecrow." He lets go of my hands and points to the scarecrow.

"Aim for the bullseye. It'll give you a point of the trajectory. Squeeze the trigger lightly when you are ready."

I look at him. Is he serious? I am holding a weapon, and he wants me to practice with it?!

Ryder backs away from me, crossing his arms over his chest. He then looks at the gun and then at me, a determined look on his face.

To hell with it! You live only once, right?

I aim at the scarecrow. My heart races as I close my eyes and squeeze the trigger hard, not even thinking.

A loud bang echoes throughout the entire barn, causing me to scream. A small, metallic ping follows it!

When I open my eyes, I see that the bullet hit the massive sheet behind the scarecrow, causing a ripple effect. Now I understand the reason for it. It's used to catch the bullets.

A bulletproof wall.

"Good! Next time keep your eyes open. Do it again," Ryder says, grabbing the gun. He then cocks it and hands it back to me. He stands behind me again, concentrating on the scarecrow.

I look back at him and take a deep breath. I turn around and aim the gun at the scarecrow. I close one eye so I can get a better fix at the bullseye.

"Inhale, shoot, exhale," he says, giving me goosebumps.

This time I am a little confident. Anything to help me protect myself. I pull the trigger lightly. Another loud bang, followed by me screaming.

Again, the bullet hits the sheet behind the scarecrow. I begin to laugh at the rush this experience is giving me.

I look at the bullseye, hoping I had hit it. But I missed it again.

I turn and look at him.

"Not bad," Ryder says with that creepy, calm demeanor of his. I look back and see the scarecrow's left arm is dangling by a thread of hay. I smile back at him.

"Keep practicing, and you'll be able to do this." Ryder grabs the gun from me, cocks it, and shoots at the scarecrow twice. He never takes his eyes off of me.

My mouth drops. "What the? How?!" He shoots the scarecrow's arm completely off and hits the center of the bullseye.

"Years of practice."

I hate to admit it, but I am impressed. I smile at him again and then look away nervously, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

After a couple more rounds, he begins putting the guns away. I decide to make a conversation with him. Don't get me wrong; I am still terrified but more so confused.

I had threatened his very existence an hour ago, and now he's teaching me how to defend myself? Well, sort of.

"What kind of gun is this?" I ask, pointing to the gun I just used.

"It's an H&K nine millimeter," he says matter of fact.

I nod like I know what that means. Ryder looks at me with the side of his eye and shakes his head. A tiny smile forming on the side of his lips. I am beyond grateful he doesn't call me out.

Just then, my stomach erupts in a roar. I put my hand on it.

How embarrassing!

"Someone's hungry," Ryder says, putting the last of the accessories away.

"Sorry," I whisper, humiliated.

He nods as he looks down at my stomach. "I owe you lunch anyway. Come on."

We make our way out of the barn, trekking the half-mile walk towards the car. Safe to say, my ankles are definitely going to be swollen in the morning.

The old couple is still sitting on the porch. The woman smiles when she sees me.

Ryder opens the door for me and puts the suitcase back, taking out a manila envelope. He closes my door and walks onto the porch, handing the older man the envelope. Finnegan tips his hat, and Ryder comes back and gets into the car.

Once we drive off, I look back and see the Finnegan pull a stack of hundred dollar bills from the envelope. His wife smiles.

"Is this where you come, to blow off steam?" I ask, starting to understand. I am still staring back at the couple.

"Something like that," he says, keeping his eyes on the road.

"They let you play in their barn, and you pay them." I turn and sit properly on my seat.

"You're always full of questions," Ryder says, annoyed. He is right, but I have to make some type of small talk.

"It takes my mind off of things. I'm usually not this inquisitive. Sorry." I look out of the window, wishing I hadn't said anything.

I feel his gaze on me. "Take your mind off of what exactly?"

"My death." I look at him sadly. "Living with a man who is going to kill me, eventually."

We pass by a green sign fifteen minutes later. It reads:

Welcome to Moorestown.

"Moorestown? Where exactly is this? I've never heard of this city in Cali before."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "It's pronounced more-es-town, and that's because we're not in California."

What?! Did I hear that correctly?

"Where are we?" I ask, shocked.

I want to lash out, but I know it will get me sent back to my imprisonment.

"New Jersey."

I furrowed my brows. New Jersey?! How the hell did I end up on the other side of the country? Did I dare ask? No wonder it's so cold!

We pull up to a restaurant twenty minutes later and enter through the back door. A waiter greets us and takes us into a private room.

I'm confused as to why this is being done, and then it hits me.

I was kidnapped. No one knows where I am, and I have to be hidden.

This little mediterrean-style restaurant is probably under his payroll too.

Ryder holds out a chair for me. I sit, and he walks around to his.

This private room is tiny. Very intimate, cozy, and somewhat dark. There isn't even a window in here to let in the sunlight.

An ancient-looking waiter comes back inside and lights the candles on our table. I grab my napkin, placing it on my lap.

The waiter then gives us our menus and walks out of the room.

Why is Ryder so nice to me? If he was hired to kill me, why keep me alive for this long?

Does he feel bad? Is he only being nice because he plans on killing me soon? I suddenly lose my appetite.

"What would you like? The seafood here is quite nice. If you eat that, of course," Ryder says, looking from the menu then up at me.

I sigh sadly. "I'm not hungry," I say, barely audible, looking at the table.

Ryder chuckles wryly."But you are hungry. That old couple heard your stomach from where they sat."

I swallow. "Ryder, when do you plan on killing me?"

Ryder stills and then sits back on his chair.

"Do we have to discuss that now?" Ryder massages the back of his neck and looks down at the menu.

Did he really just ask that?

"When will it be more convenient for you? Seeing as you want to end my life, and I probably have days or hours left to live."

I see a flash of anger on his face, and then it disappears. He suddenly looks sad as he puts the menu down and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. There is something he wants to say. He opens his mouth and then closes it.

"I haven't been given the order yet."

It feels like he's just slapped me in the face. "You're waiting...for the...say so?"

My voice comes out in little squeaks. Shock isn't even the right word to use at this moment.

I am such an idiot! I nod my head, looking around the room, and sit back, crossing my arms.

Here I sit, thinking that he cares in his sick ways, but he's just buying time?!

I laugh. "Have you ever felt anything, for anyone, besides you and Freddie? A little ounce of anything?!"

He sits back in his chair and blinks a couple of times. I know my question doesn't phase him in the slightest.

"You don't give two shits about me, and that's fine, Ryder! You don't even know me! You're getting paid to have me around! You are disgusting, and I pray for the day someone finishes you off for all of your sins! It will be well-deserved."

I throw my napkin on the table. "Sad that you'll have only one mourner," I spit.

I get up from the table and try to leave when Ryder grabs my arm and stands. He is beyond angry.

"Is that supposed to move me?! I'm glad you hate me, I hate me! The only difference is I have to put up with myself!"

I try to yank my arm from his grasp, but he holds on tightly.

"News flash, princess! Not everyone is as good and innocent as you. Not everyone gets to grow up with their parents by their side. This is my job! You can go on hating me. It will never change me! You think I want to be stuck with a whiny brat who-"

I slap him in the face. Ryder is as surprised as I am. I have never slapped anyone in my life. I swallow hard.

Maybe I shouldn't have done that, but he hurt my feelings.

I don't deserve to be called a brat when I am a nice person! Especially when my life is literally in his hands.

Ryder suddenly grabs me by the neck and pushes me towards the wall. I fight back with him.

I am tired of his abuse! He will have to kill me this second if he thinks he can keep me on a tight leash.

I try to get him off me when I realize he isn't trying to choke me. He lets me go and takes my hands, putting them over my head.

"I don't want to hurt you. Just...stop trying to provoke me. Please," he whispered. "I'm-"

"Save it!" I say through gritted teeth. "I hate you! Do you understand that?!"

I push him away from me, seething mad. Tears are running down my face. I've never hated anyone more than this monster standing in front of me.

I want to grab his gun and use it on him this time. That's how much I loathe him. Nothing and no one will ever change how I feel this very second.