She turned her head, groaning at the way it sent stabbing pain to her temple. If she had a mirror, she was sure she’d see a giant goose egg there. At least her hair would cover it.
Trying to process what was going on was like fighting an ocean undertow. She was on a bed, that much she knew. There was a black sheet underneath her but no blanket on top. The furniture in the room was sparse—two tables and the bed placed up against the walls. No windows. A basement? She shuddered. Nothing more disconcerting than being knocked out only to wake up in a stranger’s basement.
A pair of jean-clad thighs came into view. With effort, she lifted her gaze to see a man staring down at her. His shadowed eyes sent a shiver through her.
Wincing, he held something out to her. It turned out to be an instant ice pack. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
No thanks to you, fucker. Scowling, she grabbed the pack and gently pressed it to the side of her head.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t know you were a girl.”
Like that was supposed to make her feel better? Who the hell was this guy? “What am I doing here?”
“Answering questions.” He moved back a few steps and she felt some relief with the distance. “Do you know who I am?”
Forcing her stiff limbs to move, she sat upright and leaned against the wall. She studied his face, suddenly feeling like she was supposed to recognize him. Was he a celebrity or something? Long blondish-red hair was tied back, exposing a shaved section underneath. The beard and tattoo-covered arms suggested he didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, which was both intimidating and hot. A black T-shirt covered his massive chest, but left his muscular biceps bare. Biceps a girl could drool over.
She peered around the room, looking for clues about him. To the side, she spotted a coil of rope and a blindfold.
Fuck. “Why do I feel like I need a safeword?”
One eyebrow rose. “You know what a safeword is?”
Fear finally surfaced. Not the adrenaline-fueled kind she loved. This was a bone-deep fear that made her either want to claw her way out of the room or shrink back into a corner and hope this was a prank.
He moved toward her and she flinched. Seeming to notice her fear, he paused, his forehead wrinkled, then he held out a staying hand. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“The torture chamber suggests otherwise.” She was impressed her voice sounded so calm.
“The only girls I bring down here are willing ones.”
She stared at him, blinking.
“Aside from you,” he added then looked away. With slow movements, he crossed the room and stopped at a small table by the door. “What’s your name?” he asked, back turned.
“Evelyn Royce,” she lied expertly.
He turned, arching a brow as he held up her wallet.
“If you already knew,” she snapped, “why’d you ask?”
“To see if you’re a liar.”
She dropped the ice pack onto the bed and fingered the tender bump she could already feel forming. “Congratulations. Now you know.” Between the headache and the pointless questions, this was putting her in a bad mood. “Look. If that was your car, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t going to do anything with it, I swear.”
Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding. If he owned the Lexus, he was probably just pissed and trying to deal with it himself instead of involving the police. That, she could work with. “I was just gonna take it for a drive then . . . return it,” she lied.
She wasn’t dumb enough to return to the scene of the crime, but she did make it pretty easy to find the cars later.
He snorted. “Cut the innocent bullshit. Who do you work for?”
Work for? She opened her mouth then shut it again. With a sideways glance, she asked him, “Who do you work for?”
Instead of answering, he turned brusquely and walked back to the table by the door. He dropped her wallet next to her keys and purse.
He’d searched her purse? Her cheeks heated. There was personal stuff in there! Hopefully he didn’t look too closely at what appeared to be a tube of lipstick. Didn’t he know a woman’s purse was always off limits?
Trying to salvage some self-respect, she sat up straighter. “This is unlawful confinement.”
He looked back at her. “Unlawful? You didn’t look like you cared about the law when you were stealing that car.”
“That car? So it’s not yours.” She crossed her arms and glared. “Who are you really? And what is this place? Why do you care if I was stealing a car that’s not yours?”
For a long moment, he just stared at her. Was he considering telling her the truth or deciding how best to dispose of her body? Anxiety made her stomach roll but she managed to keep her composure.
Pull it together, Addison. Being badass mostly consisted of faking self-confidence, right?
Finally, he gestured to the door and said, “You’re not confined. It’s unlocked. You can leave anytime.”
“Great.” She stood up, ignoring how shaky her knees were, and the head rush that sent pain spiking through her skull. Was this a trick? Was there a giant on the other side of the door with brass knuckles and a love for making girls scream? And not in the consensual way.
Keeping her gaze on him, she walked to the door and grabbed her things off the table. She caught a glimpse of her key-matching device in her purse and was glad he hadn’t decided to keep it. Or break it. It’d been a bitch scavenging the parts to make it work.
After she shoved her wallet and car keys back in her bag, she paused with her hand on the doorknob. Something stopped her, made her reconsider leaving. Curiosity? An irrational sense of adventure? She should probably run as fast as she could away from this kinky basement and her sexy nameless captor. It would be crazy not to, wouldn’t it? Sure, danger and kinky sex were hot, but so were consent and a trustworthy partner. Why did she have the urge to stay and find out more about him?
Before she could turn the knob, he said from behind her, “How are you going to get home?”
Shit. “Um. Walk?”
“We’re miles from the city.”
She turned to face him. “You brought me here. You should have the decency to pay for a cab.”
“Like you have the decency to leave people’s cars on the side of the highway?”
“Oh shut up. I know you’re not the morality police so quit acting like it.”
His lips pressed together as though he was holding back a smile. Then he sighed and reached behind her to open the door. With his body so close to hers, she caught his scent. Soap and leather, like the room only stronger, sexier.
“Come on,” he said, ushering her through the door. “I’ll drive you home.”
She stopped in the threshold. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated. “You went through the trouble of bringing me all the way here. You only asked me a few questions. I didn’t even tell you my real name. I’m obviously unscrupulous. Why are you letting me go?”
He chuckled. “Unscrupulous? I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone use that word out loud.”
“It’s a perfectly good word.”
“I doubt someone who was really unscrupulous would use it.”
“That’s narrow-minded. Criminals can be smart.”
“You’re no criminal.”
She scoffed, offended for some reason. “I just stole a car. What would you call me then?” It struck her just how silly this conversation was. She was defending her right to be called a criminal. As if she cared what he thought. As if she wanted to be considered a criminal!
He leaned close, smirking. His eyes lit up with amusement and a small fire started in her belly. Voice gravelly, he nearly whispered, “You’re a little girl playing a dangerous game.”
Damn him. Making her angry and turned on all at once wasn’t playing fair. The internal conflict didn’
t leave her with any witty retorts. She swallowed hard, trying to clear her foggy head. How could such a cocky jackass be so sexy? But she couldn’t help it, he had “her type” written all over him—other than the kidnapping part. Tall, tattooed, and dangerous. And apparently kinky. And if he was offering her a ride home instead of taking advantage of her he obviously wasn’t the creepy kind of dangerous.
Shit. Her libido whirled out of control. She flipped between wanting to smack him and wanting to kiss him. When she tried to give her head a shake, it throbbed with pain. Suppressing a groan, she pushed past him toward the stairs. She couldn’t trust her vocal cords to work, so she pretended to stomp away. Only her stomp was more like a wobbly walk.
A soft chuckle came from behind her and warmth pooled in her pussy. Even his condescension was sexy.
At the top of the stairs, a large foyer opened up in front of her. The man came around her and stopped as she peered around the space. She didn’t know much about architecture but the floor looked like marble—white and shiny with swirls of gray in majestic patterns. Two tall columns stood at the double doors. A chandelier cast sparkles on the flawless surfaces.
“Wow,” was all she could manage to say. She glanced at him then remembered again that she didn’t even know his name. “You never told me your name.”
“You’re right.”
“Oh come on.” She rolled her eyes. “You know mine. It’s not like I’m gonna report you or anything. I mean, that’d be pretty dumb considering what you caught me doing.”
He stared silently.
“At least give me a first name.”
Shifting uncomfortably, he answered, “Fox.”
She scrunched her nose. “Like the animal?”
Without a word, he gestured for her to follow and walked her across the room. Their footsteps echoed around the vast space.
“That’s cute,” she said, rushing to keep up with his long strides. “No really. I like that. Foxes are adorable.”
His answering grunt made her chuckle. He opened a door on the other side of the foyer and she followed him through it into a dark room where the air felt hot and stale. A click came from beside her then the lights turned on.
They were in a garage full of cars. It was huge—at least as wide as two double-car garages. The cement floor was as clean as the foyer despite the smell of oil and rust.
She counted the number of vehicles in her head. Four cars and two bikes in the farthest corner. Not just any cars—luxury and sports cars. She felt like a kid in a candy shop. The urge to smell them, run her fingers over them, hear the purr of the engines made butterflies take off in her belly.
Her gaze got stuck on the red Mustang convertible in the middle. She had a fantasy of fucking in a convertible on a deserted road. Was it normal for a garage full of expensive cars to be giving her a girl boner?
“Holy shit.” She spun to face him. “You’re like me!”
Fox shook his head. “No, I’m not like you.”
She couldn’t stop grinning. “You are. You’ve got a better setup, but you steal cars too.”
“No.”
With a hand perched on her hip, she cocked a brow. “Then how do you explain all this?” She gestured to the array of vehicles.
Face impassive, his gaze moved from her to the garage then back again. “I won the lottery.”
“Sure.” She laughed. “And that was my Lexus and I’m the Princess of fucking Wales.”
After glaring at her in irritation, he walked to the first car in the line—a small green hybrid that looked like it would suit a middle-aged store manager who wanted to save on gas.
She gave him an incredulous look. “Seriously?”
He opened the passenger door.
“Can’t we take the—”
“No.” He pointed inside the car. “Get in.”
Her shoulders drooped in disappointment. “Killjoy.” An entire fleet of cars she’d give her right arm for, and he was going to drive her home in the old man-mobile. Figured.
She tried not to sulk as she climbed in the passenger seat and he got in the driver’s side.
“What’s your address?” He reached toward the GPS on the dash.
“Just take me to my car. It’s parked behind the plaza on Sweeny Street.”
Abandoning the GPS, he leaned back and buckled his seatbelt. The irony of a high-end car thief putting on his seat belt in a sensible hybrid economy car made her laugh inside. He probably had a retirement fund. Not so different from her dad.
Ugh. Gross. To clear that thought away, she pictured him speeding down the highway, out-maneuvering cops and dodging bullets.
He pulled the car out of the garage and into the driveway. As they meandered down the dark streets, she paid careful attention to where they were so she could find her way back later.
Seeing the house from the outside, she confirmed it was as big as she’d predicted after having just stood in the foyer and garage. Clearly, car theft was working for Fox. Did he live there alone? Was he married? Did he have kids? None of those things had crossed her mind when she’d been lusting after his biceps.
A house that large wouldn’t fit in the city, obviously. As expected, he lived in the outskirts, closer to the developments in the desert. It wasn’t quite in one of the rich neighborhoods—those were more to the west—but it was far enough from civilization to stay inconspicuous and close enough to the wealthy area not to stand out.
Once they hit the freeway and she knew where she was, she turned in her seat and rested her chin on her hand and her elbow on the center console. “So,” she started, “how do you do it?”
“We’re not talking about this.”
This was exactly what she needed to turn her mind-numbing career path into something fast and exciting. Money, hot guys, expensive cars . . . What could be better? Stealing cars by herself would never amount to much. Not only did she need someone to watch her back when shit got more serious, but she needed connections. Lots of connections to people she could trust. Why build that from scratch when it was all right here in front of her? All she had to do was convince them they needed her. “I want in.”
Fox took his eyes off the road to give her such a condescending look she wondered if his cocky head would suddenly inflate and pop through the moonroof. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not. I want in on your . . .” she gestured vaguely, “car stealing business thingy.”
“First of all, no. Second of all, never call what I do a ‘car-stealing business thingy.’ And thirdly, no.”
“Why not? I would be an asset.”
He snorted.
“You haven’t seen me at my best. I just made that hacking device on the fly. I was still trying it out when you found me.”
“You made it?”
“Yes.” She watched his lips twitch into an almost-smile. “You’re impressed, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
She sat back in the seat, feeling victorious. Maybe if she showed him some of the other devices she’d made, he’d see how valuable she could be. Like the RFID app she’d been working on to hijack the NFC signal and emulate a car’s smart key.
“You’re obviously an intelligent girl,” he said. “Why don’t you do something important, and legal, with your life?”
“I’d rather do what you’re doing.”
“Well, I’m not taking applications right now.”
“Well, I won’t take no for an answer.”
“It’s cute that you think it’s up to you.”
She exhaled a long breath. Stubborn man. He didn’t know who he was dealing with. Her dad used to say, “Your stubborn streak is my Irish ancestors haunting me from the grave.” Her parents wished she’d use her determination for things like graduating with high honors and finding a nice boy to settle down with. If only they knew.
“I’ll find a way,” she warned him. “I’ll stalk you until you give in.”
Anger flashed in his eyes when h
e turned to look at her. A second later, his gaze moved back to the road. “You need to forget everything you saw today. Go back to your normal life.”
“But . . . I don’t want a normal life.” Two point five kids, a mortgage, and a boring day job she worked in until she was too old to have fun . . . Those things weren’t for her.
Her parents had been married for twenty-five years. High school sweethearts. They had worked the same jobs for the last twenty years. They literally graduated high school, got married, started their yawn-worthy careers, and had a baby. That was their life. Doting on Addison, scrapbooking every stupid moment, and watching game shows on the couch with their dog.
She’d rather die flipping a ’vette than end up stuck in a dead-end life.
“Fine,” he said. “Steal cars with your little gadgets, get caught and go to jail. But stay away from me or we’ll have a problem.”
“What? You’ll lock me in your basement again?”
“Or worse,” he grumbled.
She didn’t believe that for a second. If he were a bad person, he’d have killed her by now. Or at least threatened her with more than some vague, mildly violent words. She’d always been a good judge of character. Fox may have been as dodgy as she was when it came to the interpretation of the laws of ownership, but he wouldn’t hurt her. Just below the mask of intimidation he was trying to scare her with, there was kindness. She was sure of it. And even if he was as dangerous as he wanted her to believe, that would only make him more interesting.
“Over there.” She pointed to a lot behind the plaza where her junky Mazda sat. The white, dented-up beater ruined the image she wanted to project. Instead of saying “dangerous and important” like most of the cars in Fox’s garage, hers said “broke and unemployed.”
At the last minute, she pointed him toward a black Prius.
He parked two spots over then turned and glowered at her. “I’m serious, Addison. I don’t want you near me or my property again.”
“Yeaaaaah. I don’t take orders from you so . . .”
Slowly, she opened the door, keeping her eyes on his. Once outside, she leaned down and smiled through the open window. “See you soon, Fox.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. Something about pissing him off seriously turned her on. She straightened and backed away and he drove off without another word.
To Have and to Master Page 24
