by Skye Warren
Then I turned to actually face Royal. It was unnerving. Even after the accident, he didn’t seem flustered. Just calm. Those dark eyes of his drank me in. Missed nothing.
“Hold tight. They will be here in a few to get us. We got top priority.”
“Tell me, Ms. Blake—”
“Eavesdropping, were we?”
“Can I help it if your supervisor has a voice that carries? Tell me, are you a Ms. or Mrs. Blake? I would hate to think I had a rival for your affections.”
I rolled my eyes. “Enough already. I’m having the night from hell, and your incessant need to talk isn’t making it better. So I’m going to tell you and then you are going to shut up about, okay?” He nodded, but I doubt he intended to keep his promise. “My name is Ivy Blake. And I’m not a Mrs.”
“And do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, I have a girlfriend,” I lied. Let him chew on that one for a bit.
He threw back his head and laughed. “I don’t think you are telling me the truth, but we have another problem. Upon closer examination, it appears a bruise is forming on my temple.” He bobbed his head to the mirror.
I could see a small dark red circle above his left eyebrow. I thought it was just a scratch, but I didn’t think blowing off a prisoner’s potential head injury would be great for my career.
“Perhaps you could check my forehead? Make sure I am not more seriously injured?” he suggested.
I froze. No way was I going to open the cage and check his face out myself. That sounded like a one-way ticket to being shot in the gut and left in a ditch. Truthfully, I wanted to dump his ass on the front lawn of McCreary and get the hell back home. Not an option though. “Yeah, I only have basic first-aid training, but I will get a professional to clear you.” I called the state patrol once more and told them to send an ambulance as well.
And then I saw the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.
Moving fast, headed straight for us. No time to get away. A van slammed into the passenger side, throwing Royal and I into the windows and steamrollering the car fifty yards down the road in a shower of sparks and burned rubber. Two men dressed all in black with ski masks over their faces sprang from the van, moving toward the car with purpose.
“Oh shit!” Not. An. Accident.
I grabbed for my Glock and rolled my window down so they could hear me. “I am a United States deputy marshal. Keep your distance from the vehicle and put your weapons down!” I shouted. They both brandished sawed-off shotguns. Not a fair fight.
“They are here for you, aren’t they?” I never took my eyes off the men.
I could almost hear his smile. “Why, yes, they are.”
Thought as much. “Tell me, is this the execution squad or the welcome wagon?”
“I believe these gentlemen are friends of mine from the days prior to my unfortunate incarceration.”
The men kept approaching, and they aimed at me. “That thing might as well be a peashooter,” the tallest said. “We could blow a hole in you from here.”
He was right. They would open fire, and I would just be a red mess in the front seat. “Yeah, but then you might hit your friend here. We’d both be decorating the seats.”
“Enough,” Royal said, exasperated. “No one is getting shot. Ms. Blake here has no doubt determined that putting up a fight would lead to her demise. Since she is a smart woman, she is going to throw down her weapon.” I stared at him, and I could swear I saw a pleading look in his eyes. “Why don’t you toss your weapon out the window, and these good gentlemen will collect it for you. That way everyone gets to live.”
“Everyone?” I hesitated.
“I swear to you. Everyone is going to survive this.”
I gritted my teeth, tried my best to hide the fear clawing at my insides. I must be crazy, because I believed him. The gun felt good in my hands, like a steel safety blanket. But I was smart enough to know when to part with it. With a curse I chucked it out onto the pavement. “You are taking me hostage instead of killing me. Smart.”
Royal had been selling guns and running drugs for nearly five years when he’d gotten picked up in a RICO investigation. He’d been the president of Kentucky’s Four Horsemen chapter, part of a national outlaw biker gang. Someone with that kind of power and influence had a good head on his shoulders. Killing a federal agent would bring a lot of unwanted heat. Using me as a bargaining tool would give him a lot of options.
“Don’t be so negative, Ms. Blake. Hostage is such an ugly word. You will be my guest.”
“Look, you can call me a guest or, hell, your date if you want to, but keep in mind that kidnapping is still a felony and you’ve already racked up quite a few of those. Extortion. Illegal arms sales. Murder. Assault. Racketeering. ”
The van drivers yanked open my car door and dragged me out of the vehicle, dumping me on the chilly blacktop. I let my body go limp, not impeding their progress but not helping either. I didn’t fight or give them a reason to rough me up.
Be cool. Calm. I took long, deep breaths.
They reached for my belt and removed the keys hooked to it. The short one fastened my own handcuffs around my wrists. The tall one went to the sedan, unlocked the rear door, then released Royal from his restraints. They hauled me to my feet and escorted both of us to the vehicle.
Royal reached across the backseat and laid a hand on my cheek, smoothing it. “Are you okay, Ivy?”
“Just ducky.” I notched my chin higher, a little bit of a fuck you in my demeanor. Truthfully? I was scared spitless, but I’d be damned if I’d admit to it.
He laughed. “I admire your fortitude. You are a very brave woman, but then you would have to be to pursue this line of work.”
“Yeah, right about now I’m wishing I would have followed my mom’s footsteps instead of my father’s and become a preschool teacher.”
Royal’s goons put the pedal to the metal, and we screeched away from the crash scene. My mind raced, but eventually my training kicked in. I noted our direction and the passing mile markers. And anything else that might be helpful to investigators.
Royal withdrew a leather pouch from a compartment in the car and removed a vial and needle from it. I inched closer to my window, but there was nowhere to go in the confined space. He patiently loaded the needle, then flicked it with his thumb to remove any air bubbles.
It never occurred to me that the assholes would shoot me full of drugs. Blow to the head? Maybe.
He reached for my arm, and I jerked away. Oh Christ. “What the hell is that?”
His voice was slow and soothing. “Just a little sedative. I asked the boys to bring it with them. Much more efficient way of knocking you unconscious. Never know when it might come in handy.”
“You can blindfold me or, um—”
“There is no telling what you might pick up, just from listening. I’m truly sorry to have to drug you, but I can’t have you remembering the exact location of my hideout, can I?”
“I—”
He reached for my arm again, and I didn’t struggle this time. The fight would come later. “Don’t open your mouth and lie to me. There won’t be any lies between us, Ivy. Not ever,” he warned as he shoved the needle in.
I didn’t like the way he kept using my name or how intently he watched me.
And with that last thought, I tumbled into blackness.
* * *
What the hell?
I had cotton mouth, and my head pounded like a stampede of horses had just clomped over it. Not ponies either; big fucking Clydesdales. Hadn’t felt this bad since the morning after my twenty-first birthday. I forced my eyes open, but I felt dizzy. Room spun around me, and my surroundings weren’t familiar. Scratchy blanket beneath my cheek and I slept on a bed with a quilt. Space heater beside the bed. I didn’t own one.
Then it hit me.
I shot up. That’s right. I was being held captive by Royal and two of his MC brothers, who would remain anonymous until I personally yanked their
ski masks off and hauled their sorry asses to jail. I glanced down. Thankfully I was still fully clothed; no one had gotten molesty on me while I visited dreamland.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
I startled, turning around to see Royal in a small kitchen a few feet from me. He had changed out of his prison jumpsuit in favor of a pair of blue jeans and a black cable-knit sweater. He looked more like a model than a criminal in his street clothes.
I started piecing together our new location. Wooden doors, wooden floors, wooden walls, and even the ceiling. We were in a cabin, not a hotel room. Definitely close quarters. One queen-size bed, a fireplace, a couch, and a tiny kitchen. There was another door that I assumed led to a bathroom.
“You slept nearly twenty-four hours. Would you like some coffee? I just made some. I’d offer you food, but my companions thought provisions meant bags of Cheetos and Spam.” He sighed. “I never thought I’d long for prison food again.”
“I’ll pass on the Cheetos, but I’ll take coffee with cream and sugar.” God, I needed coffee. Hopefully that would help me out of my stupor. I watched him prepare it, lest he shake in any “special” ingredients that would put me to sleep again, then made my way to the couch.
I sat, pressing a hand to my forehead as though I could keep it from pounding. “So does this cabin belong to you? Maybe you hunted in northern Kentucky during the fall?” I peered out the window and saw only woods around us and snow, which fell at a good clip. At this rate we would be getting a couple of inches an hour. Bet the weather hindered the manhunt too. Slowing down the vehicles, covering any tracks.
Had to hand it to Royal. Laying low in a place that wouldn’t be investigated was a damn good plan. A hunting cabin in an isolated forest fit the bill. Standard procedure was to patrol highways, airports, and other modes of transportation to chase down a fugitive. They wouldn’t be tromping through the woods without good reason.
He laughed as he handed me the coffee, then sat on the sofa beside me. “Yes, this is a cabin. No, it is not mine.”
I thought for just a moment about throwing the hot liquid at him, making a run for it, but I needed more information. Where were his cronies? Did he have a vehicle I could swipe? Or did he dump the van and hoof it here? He also handed me a bottle of aspirin, and I gulped down two of them.
He set his cup down on the table in front of us. “Decided against scalding me, huh?”
Evidently I shouldn’t be a poker player. I smiled, showing a row of sharp and shiny teeth. “For now.”
“That brings us to our current predicament. I can’t have you trying to incapacitate me and making a run for it. We have several options to solve that particular problem.”
I nearly choked as I imagined the worst way to solve it.
He grinned. “Ivy, if I wanted to harm you, I would have done so after I got free. I meant what I said. I’m not going to kill you.”
I was probably going to kick myself for asking this question. “Why didn’t you?”
He looked offended. “I don’t harm innocent people. I know what you must think of me, but I’m not a monster. I have killed men, yes, but only in the due course of my business. All of these men lived in my world and knew its rules. While it may appear lawless to outsiders, there are many guidelines you never break. Killing without provocation and harming women and children are unacceptable.”
Oh, lucky me, I got taken hostage by the sensitive psychopath.
Sounded like a lot of bullshit justification to me, but he seemed sincere about his twisted moral code of sorts. I guessed for now I’d just be grateful I hadn’t landed on his shit list. “How do you propose to solve this problem?”
“I could keep you tied up, but that is inconvenient. I don’t think it’s the right tone for our relationship.”
Color me confused. “Um, Royal, we don’t have a relationship. Unless you mean the hostage/kidnapper kind of bond.”
“Ah, that’s where you are wrong. It’s just brand-new and needs to be nurtured, so I don’t want to break the trust by manhandling you.”
He laid his arm across the back of the couch, directly behind my head, and I shifted, moving closer to the edge of my seat. “I think the trust is already broken by the kidnapping.”
He smiled. “I told you, you are my guest. Not a hostage.”
“You say tomato; I say hostage.” I shrugged. “So what is your solution?”
“Well, I don’t want to drug you either. It really isn’t good to have that many sedatives coursing through that delicious body of yours at one time.”
I let the delicious comment slide. “And? Spill it. I’m getting older here.” He seemed to be dragging his metaphorical feet on this one.
“The only option I see is stripping you down until you’re bare,” he said, his voice slipping to a darker register. “That way you won’t be tempted to make a run for it.”
I could feel the sexual tension curl between us once more, and I tried like hell to tamp it down. Ignore it. “Come again?” He’d clearly lost his mind.
“It is the best solution. It won’t harm you. The weather will be your jailor, not me. You wouldn’t make it more than a few minutes without frostbite. So, if you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing to my clothing.
“Hmm. Funnily enough? I do mind stripping off my clothing in front of a strange man. I’m not taking my clothes off.” I wrapped my arms around my chest and glowered at him.
His face went frighteningly calm. Like it had been when he’d shot me up with a sedative. This was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not. “Yes, Ivy. You are.”
“Said the date rapist,” I rejoined.
He sighed. “You saw my file. I have not stooped to raping a woman, and I never will. However, I will drug you again, and that will be that, if you so choose.”
I didn’t let it go or back down. “Didn’t you make the creepy comment about wanting my hands on you while we were driving?”
“That comment wasn’t creepy. It was flirtatious,” he countered. “And what’s more? You thought so too. I saw the blush on your cheeks. Besides, I said I wanted your hands on me. I didn’t threaten to put my hands on you.”
He had an answer for everything.
He sighed. “I had hoped you would choose the most rational option. You would rather the drugs again?”
“No!” I could see there was no way out of this. I had less of a chance of escaping if I was knocked unconscious. “Where are your two goons?”
He chuckled. “My associates have gone elsewhere to disappear for a while. It is just the two of us, Ivy. I promise.”
That was somewhat better. “Let’s say, for a moment, that I do take off my clothes. You understand that is not some sort of invitation, right?” I slapped my coffee cup on the table and stood, staring down at him with what I hoped was an intimidating expression. “You come near me, and I am going to go Thunderdome on your ass. One of us won’t survive, and my money is on you. Got it?” I snapped.
My threat seemed to amuse him. “I understand. Of course, that is predicated on you not wanting my attentions, but I promise to not come near until you ask me to.”
“Yeah, well, don’t count on it, buddy.” I turned around and undid my button-down shirt. Then I unbuckled the belt on my khakis, along with the fly. With horror I realized that while I had dressed for work, I hadn’t completely changed out of my date attire. I still wore a pretty pink lace bra and matching bikini panties beneath my clothes. I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to sleep with the teacher I’d gone out with, but I had given myself the option when I got dressed.
I hesitated for a moment, and then something wicked occurred to me.
He wanted me. Really wanted me. I could practically feel his craving. Ten years without a woman. Ten years.
He watched me undress. Missing nothing. This might be a way to escape. If I put on a little show, it would shake his control and throw him off guard. I might be able to escape then. I toed off my shoes, let my pants slide to t
he floor and turned to face him, crossing my arms over myself, wrapping my shirt teasingly around my body.
The distance between his legs had widened on the couch.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes drinking me in.
I got closer, standing between his splayed thighs, and let the shirt fall open. My breasts nearly overflowed the demicup bra, and they moved in time with my breaths. I stretched behind my back, pretending to grasp the hooks and eyes, causing my breasts to jiggle a bit, and he made a strangled sound.
“I can’t seem to work the clasp,” I whispered and then presented him with my back. “Will you undo it?”
“Christ! You are killing me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Do you know what happens to women who tease a man like that?”
I could feel a smile curling my lips. What the hell? I shouldn’t be smiling. I should be terrified. I stood between a murderer’s legs in little more than a few scraps of lace. But somehow I was enjoying this. Relishing teasing him, seeing the effect I had on him.
I cleared my throat, tried to keep the glee out of my voice. “I don’t know about that, but I do know you promised not to touch me. Just a few minutes ago?”
“Hoisted by my own petard on this one.” His hands felt big and warm on my back. He very slowly undid the two clasps that held my bra together. Then he smoothed the skin where the bra straps had bit into it. He pushed them down my arms, moving up behind me, and the garment started to pitch to the floor. I instinctively caught it, but he pried it from my fingers and let it drop. I started to wrap my arms around my breasts, but he covered them with his hands. Kneaded them, tweaking both of my nipples until they stood at attention.
Then he swept my hair to one side. I could feel his heated breath on the back of my neck. He kissed me there, just below my hairline, and I shuddered in response. How did he know I would be so sensitive there?
What was I doing? I should protest. I should demand he release me. Knee him in the balls or slap his face. Something. Anything. But I couldn’t make myself do it. I wanted this. I don’t know why, but I had been wondering how his hands would feel on me as soon as I laid eyes on him. I had to see where this led, even if the path brought me to my own ruin.
