Page 19 of Obsession

“We both know I need to keep an eye on you.” He folded his arms across his chest, admiring her long lashes as her gaze landed on the bucket.

“I can’t believe I have to do this.” She’d said as much when she’d squatted in the forest, yet ultimately, she’d managed. She would have to manage again.

“You’ll get used to it.”

He couldn’t say he knew that for certain. She looked pretty disgruntled as she hiked up the cover to her middle and crouched over the container, but she’d have to learn to live with the new situation. Tucker had done worse when he’d been on reconnaissance. Hell. He did worse now.

“You’ll be pleased to know I have something else for you to eat today.” He intentionally avoided her gaze as he walked behind her toward the fire. She deserved at least a slither of dignity in return for her recent compliance.

“Not rabbit, then?” Squatting over the bucket, her breathing was irregular as she presumably tried to relax.

“No.” He wanted to laugh at the way her toes balled against the floor. Ella appeared to be finding this tribulation as trying as the last one.

Poor thing.

“I will finish the pie and make soup for you.” Tucker had a store of vegetables in the outhouse and some by the side of the hearth, any of which could be used to create a broth that would keep his little girl fed and warm.

An odd pride settled over him as he mused on the idea. Suddenly, he was enthusiastic about the thought of keeping her safe and well. It was a far cry from the one-dimensional man who’d fired bullets into other people for a living. Increasingly, he hardly recognized himself.

“Soup sounds good, sir.” She sighed as her muscles finally relented and allowed her to pass water.

“It will be,” he promised, leaning against the brickwork of the hearth as she concluded. “I do make a mean soup.”

“I’m done.” She couldn’t meet his gaze as she rose from the bucket, her attention fixed on its contents as though there was anything to be ashamed about.

“Can I trust you to stay there while I throw your effort out of the front?”

He couldn’t even believe he was asking. After her sprint into the woods yesterday, he’d vowed to take no chances with the wildcat, yet the version of her he’d bound to the bed had bewitched him. Staring at her flustered face as she wrapped the blue blanket tighter around her body, he could barely recall the banshee who’d left him high and dry.

“Yes.” Her chin lowered to her chest. “I won’t try anything.”

“Sit on the bed.” He pointed to the structure as though she’d somehow forgotten the place she’d been tied to. With a reluctant sigh, she walked in its direction before perching on the end. Pushing the blanket between her legs, she pressed her knees together. His breath hitched at the thought of what was waiting at the apex of those thighs. He already knew how intoxicating she was. “I expect you to still be there when I get back.” He growled the instruction, ignoring the flicker of desire that ignited. “I mean it, Ella.”

Sniffing back her emotions, her head lifted to look at him. “I won’t move.” She sounded close to tears, her most recent experience of peeing into a bucket apparently no better than her visit between the trees.

“Sorry?” There was no need to nudge her, really. Her manners had been almost perfect since she’d woken up, but still, he couldn’t help himself. The prospect of subjugating her was just too bloody delicious to turn down.

“I won’t move, sir.” She hissed the final word, the sound sparking his regret. They seemed to have found an equilibrium of sorts since their intimate encounter, and a part of him was loathed to let it go, but he realized it was necessary.

However much he craved her, she was first and foremost his captive, a surety that one day his money would be returned.

But what good is money compared to this?

Tucker dismissed the nonsense perspective bandying in his mind. His money was everything. Cold, hard cash was the only certainty he had in a cruel world. He’d seen enough suffering firsthand to know people certainly couldn’t be counted on.

His thoughts flitted briefly back to Collins. He’d thought the man who’d maneuvered him from the enemy bunker that day had been his savior, but he’d been wrong. Collins had turned out to be even more of a weasel than Bennett.

“That’s better.” Balling his hands into fists, he moved to the bucket and lowered to collect the handle.

The ghost of Collins and the others would have to wait. His wildcat and he were on the verge of a significant moment—could he finally turn his back on her without living to regret the choice? The last time he’d tried, he’d been instantly remorseful. The trek through the woods and run-in with the bear had reinforced the point, and he’d had hours to think on the matter since then, but deep down, he sensed they had turned a corner.

If he wanted to move forward with her—even as his hostage—he had to trust her.

Fuck.

What a quandary. His training urged caution and warned him not to have faith in anyone, but a wiser facet of him knew his self-imposed solitude couldn’t go on forever. If Tucker had been waiting for a sign that his life had to evolve, then Ella was it.

It could be time to transition into the next stage of his life—a phase where he could discover a balance between his past debauchery and his more recent reclusive experiences. Anxiety knotted in his stomach as he lifted the vessel and backed toward the door.

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