The Line: The Complete Series

by Nikki Rose

  “I’m Mason, by the way.” He rounded my chair and cut my hands free.

  “Hana.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Hana.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” I muttered.

  I pulled my hands in front of me, rubbing my raw wrists and rolling my stiff shoulders.

  “Sorry, it's not a very comfortable position. I apologize for the discomfort,” he walked back to my side and handed me a plastic fork from the take-out bag before going to the other side of the table with the first aid kit.

  “You sure are polite for someone who breaks into a woman’s house and holds her prisoner,” I dug into my dinner, hungrier than I’d realized as the scent of the food reached my nose.

  He stopped organizing the first aid supplies and glanced up at me, raising one eyebrow. “Extenuating circumstances.”

  “You mean running from the cops?” I spoke around a bite of my fried rice.

  He lifted his white tee up over his head exposing his tan, chiseled abs. My jaw went slack. I’d seen my share of nice physiques during art class when we learned about painting the human body but they were nothing like that. Those weren’t the muscles from some polished model. Those were real muscles. Muscles gained by hard work or extensive training.

  He cleared his throat and I glanced up at the amused smirk on his lips. Heat rushed into my cheeks.

  “See something you like?” His smirk broadened and I scowled before looking back down at my food.

  “Is there a reason you’re stripping in my kitchen?”

  “Yeah, I gotta clean up this nice gash you gave me.”

  “Oh,” I flushed again but this time more out of guilt than embarrassment. “Sorry about that but then again, you did sort of force your way into my home and refuse to leave.”

  “So maybe we’ll call it even?” he smirked again and I realized that I liked that mischievous little smile. It was much better than his serious scowl. But he was my captor who was running from the cops. I shouldn’t like anything about him.

  I took another bite of my food and watched him as he tended to his wound, cleaning it a lot less carefully than he’d done mine.

  “I think this thing’s going to need stitches.”

  “There’s an urgent care about fifteen minutes up the road.”

  He raised his eyebrow at me again and I realized how ridiculous my response had been. He was running from the cops. How would he explain a large gash in his chest?

  “But I guess that’s not really an option is it?”

  “No. You got a sewing kit?”

  “Hall closet, two shelves down from where you found the first aid kit.”

  He moved like he was going to go get it then stopped suddenly, studying me as I ate.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I couldn’t get out of this fast enough anyway.”

  My answer must have satisfied him because he nodded and hurried down the hall. He was back in no time carrying my small sewing kit. I never did much sewing of my own so I never needed many supplies, just enough to take care of a small tear or hole every so often.

  He pulled the bottle of rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit and put it on the rag before blotting it onto the gash on his chest with a loud hiss. I stopped eating, placing my fork on the table, watching him with fascination as he sanitized the needle and thread and began sewing himself up.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “Yeah,” his voice lacked its previous smooth tone as he focused on controlling the pain and sewing up his wound.

  I was mesmerized watching as he skillfully and methodically closed up his wound. He kept his expression stoic without even a hint of the pain his voice had given away.

  “You’ve done that before,” it was less of a question and more of an observation.

  “A time or two.”

  He tied off the last stitch and bandaged his wound before gathering all the used supplies and throwing them in the garbage.

  CHAPTER 3

  Hana

  “I need a shower.”

  “A shower? Oh sure, make yourself at home.” I rolled my eyes but the vision of hot streams of water running down those rippling muscles came to mind unwittingly.

  “I wouldn’t but I still smell like smoke.”

  A loud knock on my front door made me jump and I looked over at Mason with wide eyes as my heart threatened to leap from my chest.

  His body was tense. Silently, he lifted his finger to his mouth and took a deep, silent breath.

  He whispered so quietly I had to rely more on reading his lips than actually hearing him, “are you expecting anyone?”

  I shook my head and swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. I should have been relieved that someone was there to rescue me from my captor but instead of relief, I felt fear.

  Fear of not knowing what would happen in a confrontation between Mason and whoever was at the door. Fear that maybe Mason was telling the truth and he wasn’t a bad guy in which case I would see an innocent man get taken away to jail, hurt, or even worse. Fear that he would hurt whoever was at the door and show his true, violent nature. In which case the lie that he was the good guy would be shattered and he’d have no reason to pretend to be good toward me.

  He didn’t seem like a crazy person. He wasn’t a psycho. He had compassion and cared for me when I got hurt even though he didn’t have to. Hell, he could have left me on the floor with my head bleeding. It probably would have been easier on him but instead he took care of my wound before tending to his own. A small fear deep down began to grow and I realized, I didn’t want to see him get hurt.

  We waited without a sound, wondering if whoever it was would give up and go away but another knock made me jump. Mason went to the duffle bag that I hadn’t seen him drop by the door to the garage, probably because I was too busy bleeding on the floor.

  My breath caught when he pulled a black pistol from his bag. He checked the chamber and the clip before hurrying back over to me and began cutting me loose.

  “You’re going to answer the door calmly, act natural like nothing is going on, and you aren’t going to give anything away. Whoever it is, get rid of them, because if they get suspicious, I will have to hurt them and you don’t want that, do you?”

  I shook my head and swallowed hard as the possibility of him being a good guy faded.

  He followed me through the living room with the gun in hand and hid just out of sight. I opened the door without bothering to check who it was. How much worse could it be than the man who was already inside my house?

  Standing on the front porch was a kind looking, slightly plump police officer.

  “Hello ma’am. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “Not at all, officer. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to the door. I was just getting ready for bed.”

  His gaze dragged down my bare legs. I’d nearly forgotten I was just in my big t-shirt. “I see. Well, I’m sorry to bother you but we have a manhunt going on and your neighborhood is within our parameters.”-

  “Oh no.”

  “Have you seen anything suspicious in the past two or three hours?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have. And, I’ve been here all night so I’m sure I would have noticed.”

  “You mind if I take a look around the outside of your property? Just to make sure he’s not hiding out?”

  “Of course not. Please do. There’s a shed out back. I keep it unlocked since there’s nothing really worth stealing out there. Feel free to check in there too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will. You have a good night, now. And, call 9-1-1 if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Thank you, officer. I will,” I shut the door and sagged against it with relief. The policeman seemed nice but I had no doubt that Mason could have easily taken him and I didn’t want to see anyone get hurt.

  Mason tucked his gun in the back of his jeans and locked the front door. “You did good.”

  “I did a good job of lying to the co
ps. I’m not sure I’d say I did good.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed.

  “If he’s going to be snooping around your property, it's probably a good time for me to take a shower. That way we don’t risk him seeing me through a window.”

  “It seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  “I’m trained to. Come on,” he motioned with his head for me to go ahead of him back to the kitchen.

  “Are you going to tie me up again?”

  “Yes, but not in here.” He leaned down and grabbed his bag before motioning for me to go down the hall.

  “Where then?”

  “I told you, I need to take a shower.”

  I whirled around to look at him and he startled, “I’m not taking a shower with you.”

  His whole face crinkled up as if completely put off by the idea. “Of course not. But I’m not leaving you alone. You’ll stay in there where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “While you take a shower?”

  “Yes.”

  “No way.”

  His expression hardened and he pinned me with his warning stare. “I think my politeness is causing you to forget who’s calling the shots here.”

  I let out a huff and timidly led the way to the bathroom.

  Mason placed his duffle bag on the floor beside the shower and I stepped back from him as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  “What the—?”

  “These work so much better than going through your whole bag of zip ties,” he stepped toward me and I backed away until my back hit the closed door. “Hands.” He looked at me expectantly and I gave in with a sigh, offering my wrists to him.

  He cuffed one wrist, pulled me to the towel rod next to the shower, looped the cuffs through, and cuffed my other hand. I was a prisoner in my own home. There was something about being cuffed and helpless in my own bathroom cemented the idea in my mind.

  It was not lost on me that he’d cuffed me facing with my back to the shower so that I couldn’t see him.

  I heard movement behind me and imagined he was probably taking off the rest of his clothes. The idea of being cuffed in the room with a naked stranger sent fear coursing through me. I stood there silently, listening to each sound and I could almost envision each movement he made, removing his clothes, turning on the shower, digging through his bag, moving the shower curtain so that he could step in and let the hot water trace the lines of his muscles as it ran down his body. A flash of the image popped in my head before the reality came rushing back in.

  The water suddenly cut off and the sound of the shower curtain opening made me jump.

  “Much better. I would have never been able to sleep with that stench of smoke all over me.” Sleep. I hadn’t really thought about him staying all night or what that would mean about sleeping arrangements. I prayed that I wasn’t wrong about him being an honorable and good man even if he was doing bad things. I hoped I wasn’t wrong in assuming he wasn’t some psycho that was just waiting for me to let my guard down.

  He came up behind me and I nearly jumped out of my own skin until I realized he was just unlocking the cuffs.

  “Do you need to use the restroom before bed?”

  I couldn’t speak for fear of what my voice might sound like and so instead I chose to simply nod.

  “Okay, there’s no window so I’m going to trust you in here alone. I’m sure you’d appreciate your privacy.”

  I still didn’t speak. I didn’t move until he left the room and shut the door behind him. I locked the door and used the restroom, brushed my teeth, contemplated my ability to make a shiv out of the toothbrush before realizing I’d watched way too many crime shows. I was afraid of what would happen once I walked out of the bathroom. While I was in there, I was safely locked away. I sat on the edge of the tub, wracking my brain for some way that I might be able to get myself out of the situation.

  My best chance was to bide my time. Hopefully he would leave in the morning. If not, my best chance of escape would be once his guard was down. I needed to make him feel comfortable, like I wouldn’t run or fight. Then when he didn’t expect it, I could escape.

  “Everything okay? You’ve been in there for quite some time.”

  “Yes, sorry. I’m just finishing up.” I splashed some water on my face, blotted it dry on the hand towel, and opened the door to find him standing there waiting for me.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Contemplating how you could escape?”

  “How’d you know?” I rolled my eyes and walked past him down the hall.

  “Because it's what I would do.”

  I walked into my bedroom and he followed close behind me. He shut the door, dropped his bag into the corner chair and opened it.

  “Lie on the bed,” his voice was so matter-of-fact.

  “What?” I turned around to face him as he pulled out a set of handcuffs.

  “Lie on the bed,” he spoke slower and with more authority.

  “What are you—”

  “It's been a long day and I’m exhausted. I’m going to cuff you to the bed so I can sleep without worrying you might try to escape or kill me in my sleep.”

  “Kill you in your sleep?” I was mortified by the thought but he just shrugged.

  “Never know. What I do know is that tomorrow is going to be a long day and I’m going to need to be well rested.”

  He leaned over me, snapping the cold steel around one wrist, feeding the second cuff through the wooden dowel of the headboard before securing my other hand so that I had to lay on my back with very little room to move around.

  “How am I supposed to sleep like this?”

  “I would suggest with your eyes closed,” I couldn’t tell by his tone if he was teasing or being an asshole, either way didn’t help me much.

  I rolled my eyes and did my best to get comfortable. I was just closing my eyes when I felt the bed sink beside me and I turned my head to look his direction.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to sleep,” he looked genuinely puzzled as he slipped beneath the covers.

  “In bed with me?”

  “I’m not going to leave you alone all night to formulate a plan to get free. Besides, what if you need something in the middle of the night and can’t get up? This way I’m here if you need a glass of water or anything.”

  “But...”

  “I’m not going to force myself on you in the middle of the night,” he made the words sound utterly ridiculous that I’d even thought such a thing but really, this was a stranger who broke into my home. It was anyone’s guess what he was capable of.

  He flipped off the lamp and settled in. Laying there in the dark, I finally built up the nerve to ask what I’d been wondering the whole evening.

  “Mason?”

  “Hmm?” he said sleepily.

  “Why are the police searching for you?”

  “They think I blew someone up.”

  “Blew someone—did you?”

  “Of course not. Sleep now and I’ll answer your questions over breakfast.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Mason

  The sun shone in through pale blue curtains, waking me from a dreamless sleep. Hana still slept beside me, her arms twisted in an awkward position. A pang of guilt hit me in the chest. She clearly hadn’t slept well. The sheet was half off her body and her shirt had risen up to expose her upper thighs. I took a selfish moment to really look at her. A mess of blonde tendrils tossed around on her pillow and covering her face had my fingers itching to brush away the locks so I could see her better. Her slightly parted plump lips silently called for me to claim. I wanted to explore every curve hidden beneath the white fabric, study her until I knew every dip and every curve.

  I shook my head to snap myself out of the borderline creepy thoughts running through my mind. I slipped out of bed and got dressed. I’d told her I would answer her questions today over breakfast. Considering I took
over her house and held her captive, the least I could do was cook.

  She groaned softly and stirred. Her face crinkled as the metal cuff tugged against the headboard. I snuck over to her side of the bed, careful not to wake her as I leaned over and unfastened one hand, locking the vacant cuff around the spindle above her head. She relaxed and turned onto her side, looking much more comfortable. I hoped she’d be able to get a more restful sleep while I was awake and could easily hear if she stirred.

  I went into the kitchen and managed to find some eggs and enough leftovers to make two pretty good-looking omelets while the coffee brewed. I cut up some fruit slices and was just getting everything plated when I heard the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

  “Mason?” Hana’s sleepy voice called my name from the bedroom, no doubt wondering where I was.

  “Be right there,” I called back to her and hurried in. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel more imprisoned than she had to.

  “I wasn’t sure if you were still here.”

  “Where else am I going to go?” I chuckled and she actually gave me a little smile.

  “Do I smell food?”

  “Yeah. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving. I didn’t have much of an appetite last night.”

  “Let's get you out of here, then.” I fished the key out of my pocket and leaned over her to unlock the cuff. This time she only slightly flinched when I got close to her. I suppose not throwing myself on her in the middle of the night earned me some trust points.

  “What did you cook? It smells wonderful.”

  “Omelets.”

  “Mmm,” she let out a little moan as she inhaled the scent and climbed out of bed. “Can I stop by the bathroom first?”

  “Of course. I guess I can trust you in there.” I smiled at her. Something about the morning felt lighter but deep down, I knew all that could be an illusion. I had to be careful not to let my guard down. And, it would be so easy to do if she kept giving me those sweet little half smiles.

  I walked her to the bathroom then headed into the kitchen. I needed to make a call while she was in there anyway. I pulled out my phone. Eight missed calls all from the guys at work along with several texts all asking me to call them. I forgot I’d put my phone on silent after the mission. I’d tried to call Hunter and Chris before getting to the house the night before but after that I was too preoccupied with Hana.