by Winters, KB
And I needed to forget about those plump kissable lips and those fuckable tits.
For now.
In a space this big, I knew I’d find something to help us get out of here, so I hunted for a knife or box cutter or even a pair of scissors while I thought it all out. Margo could be a Milano plant and the red hair, the clearly Irish blood in her veins could be a misdirect. That could explain why she wasn’t hysterical or at least in tears. Then again, she could be a mobster’s kid like me and my cousins. Raised in the life had made me cynical and un-fucking-surprisable. People doing shitty things didn’t surprise me. People leaving abruptly, dying or disappearing never to return…didn’t surprise me.
And right now Margo was pretty damned un-surprised.
“Hey Rourke, you didn’t pass out on me, did you?” She whispered to herself, “Please don’t pass out. Please don’t pass out.”
I should’ve been wondering why the hell she wasn’t more rattled instead of asking stupid questions. “Just trying to look around. Discreetly.”
“Oh right,” she mock whispered across half the length of the warehouse, sending a loud whisper echo through the room, which was thankfully locked up tight with no windows other than the row about thirty feet in the air. “Sorry.”
I found a pair of rusty old scissors on a worktable that looked like they’d have a hard time cutting through a string of yarn but I grabbed them and kept going until my arms were loaded with a few supplies. “Okay, let’s get you untied first.”
“Usually a guy doesn’t say that to me at least until the fifth date,” she joked, her expression deadpan.
It caught me completely off guard and surprised a laugh out of me. I guessed even I wasn’t above being shocked. “Fifth date, huh?”
She shrugged, drawing my attention to that deep dark crevice between her tits. “Gotta make him work for it, right?”
I closed my eyes for just a moment and thought about how it would feel to slide my cock between those hot, creamy tits.
“Hey Rourke, you okay? Maybe you should free me just in case you get dizzy again.”
“I wasn’t dizzy,” I barked out, harsher than I needed to.
“Whatever you say, tough guy.”
Margo leaned forward to give me better access and visual of her arms but all I saw was a slice of creamy skin, dotted with freckles and sandwiched between the waistband of purple yoga pants and the blue and red RFD shirt.
“It’s wrapped around pretty good so just cut straight through. Please.”
It took a couple minutes to cut through the thick rope and when I did, I renewed my promise to end the fucking Milanos. Margo’s pale skin had spirals of purple and blue, her hands were white and cold.
“Shit, they cut off your circulation.”
She fell forward as soon as she was free, arms hanging limp at her sides, which told me more than she probably would about how she was feeling. I knelt down beside her, caressing and massaging her arms to get the blood flowing. I didn’t know if she was for real or not, yet, but if she was then I had to protect her.
“It wasn’t completely cut off, I made sure to move around a lot and now I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Such a polite little thing, aren’t you?”
“Takes the same amount of energy to be polite as it does to be an asshole.”
“You’re right. It does.” I shrugged and got to my feet. “Feel better?”
“My arms do, anyway. Now. You! Sit.” She bounced out of that chair like it was electrified and shook her arms out, flexing her fingers to make sure all the numbness had subsided. When I didn’t sit fast enough, she put her little fists on the curve of her hips, drawing my eyes to them. Margo was little but she had curves in all the right places.
“Go on,” she ordered. “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog.” I used my steeliest glare and coldest tone, but she wasn’t affected at all.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that, so I’ll keep my mouth shut, but if you think you’re the most difficult guy I’ve had to deal with on a daily basis, prepare yourself to be sadly disappointed.”
The fire her hair indicated told me she could take me down. Why did I find that hot? She took another second to make sure her arms were steady and then knelt down to the pile of supplies, pulling out gauze, tequila and tape first. “Tequila? Seriously? This is a pretty good haul.”
“I’m a regular hunter-gatherer.” That pulled another laugh from her as she played her fingers along my hairline, too damn gentle to administer medical care.
“Wait!” Before I could ask where the fire was, she darted off quickly into the darkness of the warehouse, barely making a sound, and she returned just as quietly carrying a half empty case of bottled water.
“Take one to drink but do it slowly until we know if you’ve got anything broken down here.” She motioned to my midsection as she handed me the water and waited for me to drink it down.
“You gonna watch me drink, Margo?”
Her blue eyes darkened or maybe it was a trick of a cloud passing in front of the moon, but I chose to believe it was a flash of the same desire I was feeling. No matter how inconvenient it was.
“Either that or I can start cleaning the wound while you drink, but maybe you like drinking bloody hair water. Do you?”
“Smartass,” I grumbled, and she laughed again, waiting patiently while I drank down half the bottle.
“Thanks. Tilt your head back for me.” She had a soft touch, which I didn’t expect, though I guessed I should have considering how tiny she was. She poured the water and gently brushed the spot where the gun had hit me.
“Shit, that’s a nasty cut. Are you squeamish about needles?”
That made my brows arch as I looked up at her. “You got a needle and thread stashed somewhere in that outfit? Follow up question, if so, can I dig it out?”
Her lips twitched as she fought the urge to laugh. Eventually she lost. “You’re incorrigible Rourke.”
“That’s me.”
“Thank you. This would be so much harder alone.” Her words were honest and kind, which I suspected were two words that summed her up nicely.
“I should be thanking you because you’re about to stop my brains from seeping out of my head.”
Her eyes flashed excitement for just a second and then she was off on a scavenger hunt again, returning with a dirty, old first aid kit.
“God bless secretaries,” she groaned, clutching the kit to her chest. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I have no idea how old this shit is. Or even if it’s useable.” She sat the kit on my lap and pulled out some more gauze, Band-Aids, and antiseptic pads that looked like they’d seen better days.
“Is that shit still good? Does it expire?”
“I’m sure it does, but we don’t have a choice. Now, I don’t know who did this, where they are or how many of them there are, but I do know that this is going to hurt like hell. A little like hell, anyway.”
I arched a brow at her rambling. “Which means?”
“Keep it down unless you can Van Damme these guys when they come running.”
Her words registered, but it was too late, the laugh was out and bouncing off the cool cement walls of our temporary prison. “My lips are sealed,” I whispered, and her smile brightened.
“Maybe you can pry them open for a bit of anesthesia?” She held up the tequila bottle and I grabbed it, taking two big gulps, and then another before handing it back. “Okay, now for the antiseptic.”
“Holy mother...fucker!”
She gave me a sheepish grin. “Just a little more to make sure you don’t get an infection. It would be a shame to lose such a pretty head of hair.”
Her snicker would have normally gotten a rise out of me, but I knew what she was doing and I appreciated her help.
“Pretty?”
“Very pretty. I mean my hair is freshly washed and this is what it looks like without any modern interference, meanwhile you look like you just finished up a photo shoot.�
�� Margo slammed the bottle down and glared at me, finishing it off by pointing her finger at me. “That was not a compliment.”
“Sounded like one to me.” I chuckled before I added, “then again I might have a head injury.” She smiled and pulled something else out of the kit.
“Cool! This old first aid kit has butterfly bandages. Let’s hope they stick.”
“Yay me,” I droned.
Margo snorted and slapped my arm. “Hush.”
The only sound in the room was her breathing, calm and even as she bandaged up the wound on my head. Her touch was light but that wasn’t the problem. It was her tits pressed right against the side of my face. If I stuck my tongue out even an inch, I’d touch her nipple.
“Want to tell me how you ended up here?” I was tired of dancing around it. We needed to know sooner rather than later if we could trust one another.
“If I had to guess, I’d say my dad.”
Chapter Four
Margo
I didn’t want to reveal too much to Rourke with no last name because I didn’t know him. Maybe I’d spent too much time reading murder mysteries, or parked in front of the TV, but the thought crossed my mind that the guys who kidnapped me had faked all of this to get me to talk about my father’s business. Maybe Mr. Rourke was the kidnapper? That thought gave me the chills.
Although I did appreciate the eye candy sitting in front of me, I knew nothing about my father’s business and ever since my mom was murdered, I’d gone out of my way to know nothing about it.
Still, Rourke hadn’t pumped me for any information that might raise any red flags, so I silently offered up a prayer and a tentative trust. For the time being.
There was a small voice in my head telling me to be cautious. Don’t rush headfirst into things like you always do. I resented the hell out of the reminder, but it was true, I did tend to rush headlong into things. The few memories I still had of my mother is her telling me to slow down before I ran into next week.
Even though I didn’t think he was lying, I knew he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. A guy who wasn’t a cop, a doctor or a solider and was still as comfortable as he was with blood, injuries and field dressings? Come on. He had to be connected to someone.
His outer shell, that beautiful face and big sexy body coupled with ten tons of charm, was the perfect distraction for the man beneath the façade. A lesson worth remembering.
“Your dad?” Rourke looked at me with genuine surprise that made me reconsider whether or not he was a spy for my kidnappers.
“Yeah. He’s not exactly what you’d call a 9 to 5 kind of guy.” And that was exactly the beginning and end of what I would say about my dad. “He’s not the best father, but I know he’ll do what needs to be done to get me out of whatever mess he’s created.”
Rourke looked intrigued. His dark eyes remained steady. “Would I know your father?”
“Not sure,” I shrugged because it was irrelevant to me. “We need to get out of here. My dad will come through and your family might too, but who knows what kind of damage they’ll have done to us by then.” I couldn’t even stand to think about it, but I wasn’t the type to break down in front of strangers.
He gave the dim space a grave once-over several times before he turned back to me. “I have a plan. You’re not gonna like it, and I’ll probably get hurt, but trust me when I say it’s necessary.”
“Let’s hear it.”
I knew he believed his plan was our best chance out of here, but Rourke seemed like a guy who didn’t want to hear the word no.
“We need to know the layout of this place. To do that, we need a reason to get taken out of this room.”
“You’re right. I don’t like it.” It was stupid and not well thought out at all. Oh and it was dangerous. “You want to get beaten to a pulp or me get raped, possibly both, just so we know which way leads out of here? Really?”
Rourke’s face darkened, and I could now see the man he might really be, the sketchy character who intimidated and coerced. “I’m not asking your permission, Margo. I’m telling you my plan so you’re ready when the time comes.”
“Ready for what?”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “To protect yourself, what else?” His condescending tone made me want to kick his gorgeous face in, but this was serious shit and his expression was deadly serious.
I excelled at working with difficult men. “All right, I’ll be ready. Thanks for letting me know.” The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. I spent most of my life trying so hard not to be part of my family’s business, their organization, syndicate, or whatever euphemism they used today for the mob, and now whether I lived or died was completely in the hands of a man just like my father.
Then again, much like my mother, maybe he’d just get me killed.
He raked a hand through his hair and just like that, my attention was back on Rourke. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Margo, but—”
“I know. I get it. You don’t need to explain or apologize or whatever. We have the same goal right now, which is getting the hell out of here. If you say this is what we need to do then let’s do it. I disagree, but I believe you think this is the best way.”
I’d worked with a bunch of men with an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and a mile-wide protective streak, I knew a made up mind when I saw one.
He stared at me for a long time, like I was some puzzle to be figured out. I hated when men got that look in their eyes, like they would be the lucky one to uncover whatever it was that made me keep men at arm’s length and relationships short and shallow. After a few more seconds, his shoulders relaxed and a relieved smile crossed his face. “Thank you, Margo.”
Story of my life, making big strong men feel good about their choices whether said choices were stupid or not.
Chapter Five
Rourke
“You don’t look like any paramedic I’ve ever seen.” Hell I didn’t think I’d ever seen a porno paramedic that looked as hot as Margo. She had that pouty sex kitten thing down to a science, only she didn’t realize it, which made her natural hair and makeup even hotter.
Her laugh was sarcastic, and she did that eye roll thing which I was starting to learn had different meanings. This time she liked the compliment but felt embarrassed about it. “Yeah, do I look like a doctor?”
“If I close my eyes, hell yeah I can picture you in a skintight one-piece outfit, unzipped down to there. Why, are you a disgraced hot doctor or something?”
“No. I’m just a failed doctor.”
I knew there was more to the story and I knew enough about women to know that they just needed time.
“I was smack dab in the middle of med school when my mom was murdered. She was...everything to me. The only reason I even bothered with my stupid family after I became an adult, so her death shook me really hard. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t retain any information, so eventually I just left and later I withdrew.”
“Damn, I’m sorry Margo.” I knew how it felt to lose someone. It wasn’t something a person got over easily.
“Thanks. I came to Rocket hoping the desert air would help me figure out my life. Then I learned that I could help people without my degree. I became a paramedic, and I’ve set up a sort of home here.”
“You like it?”
“It’s okay. Close enough to be there if something happens to my dad but far enough away that our day-to-day lives don’t clash. Or so I thought,” she said on a bitter laugh.
“My dad was killed when I was younger,” I said, “so I know what you’re feeling, except my uncle made sure me and Ma were taken care of. He stepped in and became the father I needed. Taught me to be a man. How to tie a tie and throw a punch, how to pick up ladies.”
He’d also taught me six ways to kill a man without a weapon, but that wasn’t part of this getting-to-know-you conversation.
“My cousins, his sons, are more like brothers to me. Annoying as hell and always in my business.”
<
br /> “They’re probably worried sick about you, then.”
Ah, dammit. I couldn’t remember the last time I met a woman I’d describe as sweet. My ma was the best, but she was a feisty Irish woman with an Irish temper. She was a lot of good things, but sweet wasn’t one of them. “Yeah, I’m sure they are. But mad as hell is more likely.”
She laughed again and the sound was sweet and husky.
“I had a little brother,” she said with a melancholy tone. “He died when I was young.”
Damn, she’d been through hell, and her old man was the one who got her into this mess. “I’m sorry, Margo.”
“I don’t remember him much. God, why am I telling you all this?”
“I have that kind of face?”
“You have a face all right.” And she had a sassy mouth and I found it was a trait I liked in a woman.
“So, what’s the plan Rourke? You act a fool and get into a fight, and hope they take you somewhere else to beat the hell out of you and in between punches, you memorize the layout?”
It sounded dumb when she said it out loud like that. “Pretty much. Unless you got a better plan?”
“Yeah, I do. We take ’em as soon as they come in and then run until we see the sky.”
It was a decent plan with one big flaw. “And if they catch up to us before we find it?”
“Ugh, then they’re gonna find us anyway. The exit is where it is, whether we know where it is or not, Rourke.”
I was lost in this conversation and just stared at her. “If they’re gonna get to us before we get to the exit it probably won’t be because we can’t find it, it’ll be because it’s further than we thought. Think about it, this used to be a workplace. With clearly marked exits and shit.”
“And shit?” I grinned.
“Yep, that’s my professional guess.” Damn, she was funny, too. Another time, another place. I had to keep reminding myself of that.
I blew out a breath. “We need to know if the exits are locked, maybe we can’t get out anyway. Or we could steal the keys before we get to the door. I wonder if this place is their dedicated hostage spot?”
