She shot him a nervous glance from the driver’s seat, guilt written all over her beautiful face. “You’re awake.”
No shit.
Directing her eyes back to the road, she mumbled to herself, “Well, that was fast.”
Despite the truth staring him in the face, he still didn’t want to believe it—didn’t want to believe this sweet, innocent-looking woman would be capable of doing something so underhanded, so manipulative, so . . . fucking illegal. This he would have expected from Madeline, but Ryann? Until this moment, he’d still held out hope. Oh, how wrong he’d been. Hell, she was no better than his mother after all, just in a prettier package. How could he have been so stupid to think she was different? What a joke!
Shoving his shoulder against the door, he used the momentum to force himself upright, biting back a pained groan. The adrenaline flooding his veins quickly muted the pounding in his head. In a burst of Herculean rage, he yanked against the bonds shackling his wrists. The chain rattled, and the edge of his cuffs bit deeper into his flesh. He welcomed the pain that helped ground him, clearing the foggy haze that blanketed his mind.
“What the fuck did you give me, Ryann?” His raw throat felt like he’d been drinking broken glass instead of tequila, and the sound of his raspy voice mirrored the sentiment.
She shot him a nervous glance, trapping that full, lush bottom lip between her teeth. He would not notice how beautiful she looked with that blush of shame and guilt staining her cheeks, nor would he think about the sweet flavor of those lips or how perfect they once felt against his. No, this woman was a wolf in sheep’s clothing—a viper coiled and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. He’d underestimated Ryann, and for that he was furious with himself. He should have known better. His mother wouldn’t send some flighty waif to do a job two grown men had failed to do.
“Answer me,” he growled.
“Rohypnol . . .” Her whispered response was spoken so softly, he barely heard her.
“Are you serious? You fucking roofied me?”
“Well, when you say it like that, you make it sound so bad.”
Unbelievable. “That’s because it is! Do you have any idea how many laws you’ve broken?” He yanked on his cuffs, rattling the chain to prove his point. “Kidnapping is a class A-1 felony, Ryann, violating federal criminal code 18 U.S.C. 1201, punishable by up to twenty years in prison.”
Eyes wide, she looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. “How do you know that?” Suspicion threaded into her voice.
“Because I’m a fucking lawyer!”
“Oh, Jesus, help me . . .” she mumbled the plea, reaching up and pressing her palm against her forehead.
“Doubt that’s gonna happen. Didn’t think that one through too well, did ya?”
“But you’re an MMA fighter . . .”
“Yeah, and I’m also one of the best damn attorneys in Manhattan. Hope you like prison food, baby.”
She gasped, having the nerve to look at him aghast! “You wouldn’t!”
“Oh, I fucking would!”
“Bullshit.” She shook her head in denial.
He wondered who she was trying to convince, herself or him.
“You’re bluffing. There’s no way in hell anyone’s going to believe a six-foot-two, hundred-and-eighty-five-pound MMA fighter got abducted by a five-foot-six, hundred-and-twenty-pound woman. Good luck proving that, jackass. You’ll be the laughing stock of MMA.”
“Goddammit!” He slammed his shoulder into the seat, rage boiling through him and turning his veins to ash. She jumped, startling at his outburst. “You’re such a manipulative bitch!”
She hit him with a surprised scowl that just as quickly morphed into a crestfallen frown. And fuck him if that hurt look on her beautiful face didn’t make him feel like a total asshole—which was absolutely absurd considering he was the one in the handcuffs. The sudden urge to apologize rose up swift and unbidden, which pissed him off even more. How dare she make him into the bad guy here!
“That wasn’t very nice, Aiden.”
“This from the woman that roofied me, put me in handcuffs, and is hauling me, against my will, to . . . where in the hell are we, anyway?”
“Wisconsin.”
“Great.” He glanced at the dash—2:30. “I’m going to miss my flight. I’ve had enough of your and my mother’s tricks, Ryann. Pull over and take these cuffs off me—now.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“Sweetheart, I think you’re under the impression that I’m giving you a choice. You’ve already pointed out the glaring differences between our sizes and strength. I don’t need my hands free to get away from you. You’ve been driving all night, and I’d be willing to bet you were up all day. There is no way in hell you’re going to get this vehicle from Minneapolis to Manhattan without stopping. And just to make things interesting, I gotta piss.”
This was crazy. Had she honestly thought this insane plan was going to work? The man was impossible to argue with. From what she’d seen so far, she suspected he’d prove equally impossible to reason with. And what would she say anyway? I’m sorry your mother hired me to abduct you and haul your stubborn ass back to Manhattan, but if I don’t do this job, I’m as good as dead. Yeah, not likely . . .
She’d given up any hope of gaining Aiden’s cooperation about the time she slipped a Mickey into his beer. He probably didn’t even have to pee—tricky bastard.
“So what’s it going to be, baby girl?”
She knew the instant those walls of his came up and he donned that arrogant Disco persona, hiding behind an image of the sexy, don’t-give-a-shit fighter. She liked the real Aiden so much better than this cocky playboy. A part of her wondered what he’d been like before—in his other life when he’d been a suit-wearing, slick-haired lawyer.
If she hadn’t seen Madeline’s picture, combined with the confession from his own mouth, she would never, in a million years, have believed this tattooed, pierced, messy-haired MMA fighter was the same man spewing legal jargon at her like it was his native language. One thing Ryann knew for certain: Aiden Kruze was a highly complex, intelligent man, and not to be fucked with.
Well, that ship has definitely sailed . . . Hell, that freightliner was so far across the Pacific, it was nearing Maui.
“Well . . . ?” Aiden raised a taunting brow. “Now that I think on it, I’m kinda diggin’ these cuffs, sweetheart. You think when you’re down there, before you unlock me, you could suck my—”
“All right! That’s enough!” Ryann jerked the wheel hard to the right, taking the off ramp at the last possible second.
The momentum sent Aiden’s shoulder slamming into the passenger door. He growled a foul curse.
“Oh, did that hurt?” She grinned innocently. “Silly me, I was so busy listening to your tempting offer to blow you, I nearly drove right past our exit. I can see why the ladies have a hard time resisting you with that silver tongue of yours. I mean, I’m so wet right now, I’m practically sliding off my seat.” Boom. Roasted. Fuck you. Asshole.
And the look of shock on that man’s face was absolutely worth every dirty, embarrassing word spewed from her mouth. Ryann was quickly learning there was one way, and one way only, to deal with this man—head-on and swinging, because Aiden Kruze didn’t pull his punches. If he couldn’t bully and intimidate her into letting him go, he’d just be an obnoxious ass and sexually harass her until she was so freaking miserable, she wouldn’t be able to stand riding in the car with him.
Unfortunately, her victory was a small one. Before she could high-five her inner self, that arrogant and, blast it all, sexy Disco grin tugged his top lip into a crooked smile and he drawled, “Damn, baby girl, that was hot. You know this silver tongue is good for more than just talking. Why don’t you pull over and unlock these cuffs and I’ll be more than happy to show you.
Give me thirty seconds between those sweet thighs of yours and I’ll make you come so hard—”
And just like that he won with a KO. Ryann slammed on the brakes, locking the tires up and sending Aiden into the dash. Without his hands to protect himself, his chest and shoulder took the brunt of the hit. “Fuck!” he snarled, slamming back into his seat and pinning her with a glare so feral, his amber eyes nearly glowed in the darkness. She felt the heat of his wrath burning into her, searing her flesh and firing up all the sensitive spots his lurid offer ignited.
Ryann had never, in the history of ever, had a guy talk to her so bluntly, so crudely, or so . . . freaking hot. Dammit, she didn’t want to want this man! For one, he was engaged to marry another woman—poor thing. And second, the guy was a total man-whore. She swore to God if he baby-girled her one more time . . .
And what pissed her off all the more was the knowledge that every word he said was absolutely true. She’d felt those hands on her body, tasted those lips as his tongue made wicked promises to her mouth of better things yet to come. He’d barely touched her that night, and it shamed her to admit how quickly he’d shattered her resolve. But that didn’t mean she needed to act on those feelings. She wasn’t some sex-crazed—what had Del Toro called her . . . a cage banger?
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tipped her head forward and closed her eyes. “I cannot do this with you, Aiden. Not for the next fourteen hours.”
“Well, that’s good to know, because I can go all night long, baby girl.”
That’s it. Ryann’s head snapped up, she balled her fist, and socked him in the arm as hard as she could.
“Ouch, goddammit! What’d you do that for?”
“If you call me ‘baby girl’ one more time, Aiden Kruze, the next blow is going to be below the belt! I am not one of your cage-banging whores whose bra size is larger than her IQ. For your information, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. But I don’t have a choice—hence you don’t have a choice. Believe it or not, I’ve got bigger problems to deal with than tracking down some spoiled, self-entitled rich boy who’s run away from home because he had a spat with his mommy and daddy. Seriously! Grow the fuck up!”
Every muscle in his body turned to stone. That cute-as-hell smile on his handsome face was instantly replaced with lines of tension bracketing his mouth. His amber eyes were so golden, they looked almost otherworldly, extinguishing any softness and leaving him with a deadpan glare of serious badassness. This was the face of the man in that picture, the lawyer—hard, unbending, merciless, and intimidating as hell. She pitied any attorney going against him in a courtroom. For a moment she knew a brief twinge of guilt at being the one to flip his switch, snuffing out that irresistible light that attracted his fans, men and women alike. It was as if there was a stranger sitting in the seat beside her—and she didn’t like it. Flirty and cocky she knew, that she could handle, but this . . . ? Lord help her, if she could call back those hurtful words, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
“You don’t know the first thing about me, Ryann.” His growl was low, so feral it sent a prickle of goose bumps trekking up her arms. “So don’t you dare sit there and judge me. And for the record, being rich is not an entitlement, it’s an indenturement. There’s a big fucking difference. Now it’s twenty degrees below zero and I am not exposing my dick to frostbite, so find a fucking gas station so I can take a piss.”
CHAPTER
10
Wow. That took a lot of goddamn nerve. At the brief flash of regret in her eyes, he’d wondered, for a moment, if she was going to apologize—as she well should. But then she turned her attention back to driving, checking behind her before pulling onto the road. He had no clue where they were, and combined with the roofie hangover he was sporting, the effects were pretty disorientating.
As Ryann followed the signs to the closest gas station, her hastily spoken, brutally honest words played over in his mind on an endless loop—particularly the part about her having bigger problems than him. Was it possible that Ryann wasn’t the enemy here? Could she just be another casualty of Hurricane Madeline? Not that it excused what she’d done to him, but it did cue Aiden into the level of desperation this woman must be feeling to do something as dangerous as tangling with a middleweight MMA fighter and think that was a better option.
No, he decided, watching her from the passenger seat. Ryann wasn’t his enemy. She deserved his pity, not his wrath. She was doing her job, a job she admittedly didn’t want, and he’d done everything in his power to make it an impossible task. Shame washed over him when he thought of the vulgar way he’d provoked her—definitely not his finest moment. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment, which cooled a measure of his anger. It wasn’t like him to be so crass and offensive. Talking it up in the bedroom was one thing, but sexually harassing a woman who was not into him was quite another. He owed her an apology. Then again, she had her own list of shit she needed to be apologizing for. And she could start with roofie-ing him.
Ryann hadn’t uttered a word since her outburst, keeping her attention fixed solely on the road. She had to be exhausted after driving all night. From the slump of her shoulders and the dullness of her usually bright verdant eyes, he’d guess she was close to hitting a wall. And she wasn’t the only one. The lingering effects of the Rohypnol still dogged his system, and exhaustion blanketed him. His head felt fuzzy, his limbs heavy. He needed fluids and lots of them to flush out his kidneys.
Up ahead, he spotted a truck stop and, miraculously, it was still open. The parking lot was empty, except for a few semis parked at the far end and two cars, one by the door and one in the employee section by the side of the building. As she cut the engine, he leaned forward and turned, presenting her with his cuffed wrists, anxious to get these things off and stretch his arms. He’d hyperextended his right shoulder in the fight last week and this position wasn’t doing it any favors.
“I don’t think so, Aiden. I’m sorry. You’re going to have to step through those cuffs to get your hands in front of you.”
Bloody hell . . . He shot her a dark look over his shoulder. “You can’t seriously plan on keeping me bound the entire trip back to New York. Listen, I’ll make you a deal. You uncuff me, and I promise I won’t ditch you. How’s that? Besides, where the hell would I go? It’s freezing outside, I don’t have a coat, and we’re in the middle of bumfucknowhere. Where could I possibly run?”
“You could overpower me—”
A tempting thought, that. “Sweetheart, I’m a submissions artist. Like I said before, if I wanted to take you down, I wouldn’t need my hands free to do it.” Okay, did that sound as hot to her as it did to him? Because he was imagining so many ways he could pin this woman right now. “You’re operating on a false sense of security here, baby gi—” He stopped short and cleared his throat. “Umm . . . Ryann.”
At his correction, her triumphant grin hit him harder than that punch she’d laid on him earlier. He wasn’t cowing to her demands, per se, he just didn’t see how it’d be beneficial at this time to antagonize the woman who held the key to his freedom. “The only reason we’re even having this conversation right now is because I don’t want to hurt you, Ryann. But I’m telling you right now, I am not riding all the way to Manhattan with my arms tied behind my back, and you will not deliver me to Madeline Kruze trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. It’ll be a lot easier on the both of us if you just take these off. A little good faith would go a long way here, and trust me, sweetheart, you’re going to need it.”
She stared at him, unmoving, as if she couldn’t quite make up her mind what to do. But he was a lawyer, a pro at convincing people to do what he wanted, so he wasn’t sweating it. She just needed one more nudge in the right direction. So he did what any good, self-respecting lawyer would do in his case: He lied his motherfucking ass off.
“Look, I’ve been thinking about what you said—about how I need to man up
and face my parents. And you’re right, about everything. If you take these cuffs off and if you promise not to roofie me again—and by the way, I’m still pissed about that—I’ll go back to Manhattan with you, Ryann, but on my own free will, not because you’ve forced me.” A twinge of guilt pinched his chest as the lie rolled off his tongue like warm honey. There was a lot of road between here and Manhattan—plenty of time to ditch the woman. As much as she might actually be right, he was not ready to see either of his parents, and no amount of forcing the issue was going to change that.
The hope blooming in her emerald eyes killed him. This woman was too beautiful for her own good. He could feel his will bending to hers; the unexplainable desire to ease the burden she carried on her slight shoulders was now weighing heavy on him. What was her story? How had she gotten mixed up with his mother? All questions Aiden was bound and determined to get answers to before reaching New York, and none he would discover if he couldn’t gain this woman’s trust.
Despite his wish otherwise, Aiden’s attraction to this woman was fucking with his good judgment. If he had a brain in his head, he’d bail on Ryann the first chance he got. He’d purloin her ride and haul ass back to Vegas without looking back. But the gentleman in him refused to leave her stranded and defenseless, and if he wasn’t careful, his attraction for this intriguing woman might ultimately prove to be his Achilles’ heel. But, first things first: He wasn’t going anywhere with these handcuffs on.
“Really?” she asked, doubt and suspicion lacing her voice. “You’ll come with me? Just like that?”
This woman wasn’t dumb. Then again, he already knew that. Single-handedly, she’d managed to accomplish what two grown men twice her size had failed to do. If he wasn’t so pissed at her, he’d have to admit his grudging respect.
Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2) Page 8
