Page 21 of Protecting Christina

“If you don’t have good taste, then just say that you don’t.” Her eyes dropped to my black jeans and although I knew the designer label was hidden, I also knew she probably still recognized them. However, she didn’t give me the satisfaction.

“I’m almost done,” I said, removing the tape from her arms. There was just one more left underneath her chest. She reminded me of a ragdoll, with her arms and legs dangling limply.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, tilting her head. “Don’t tell me you find a woman taped to a wall amusing?”

I shrugged. “A little. At least, after assessing that you are alright. You have to admit, it’s a little funny.”

“It’s not. It’s humiliating. I can’t believe they did this to me.”

“Who did this to you? Was it the same guys that drove you into a ditch?”

“No. This time, it was bikers.”

“Bikers, huh? You must have pissed them off enough to tape you to a wall, but not enough to hurt you. What happened? Did you grab the wrong set of balls this time?”

“They weren’t the right ones last time, either.”

I grinned. “You say that now, but I know they were more than a handful.”

“I have small hands.”

I bit back a bark of laughter and resumed my work.

“I pushed a few motorcycles to the ground in a fit of rage yesterday.”

“A few?”

“About ten.”

“Wow. You’re lucky you’re still alive. Why would you do something like that?”

“I hadn’t planned on all of them falling. Only one. But then they all came crashing down like dominos.”

I shook my head. “Looks like you bit off more than you can chew. What were you doing at a biker bar, anyway? I’m assuming that’s where one would find at least ten bikers.”

“It was a pool hall, and I was looking for the man holding my sister hostage.”

“Have you confirmed that to be the case?”

“She hasn’t answered her phone, and no one has seen her leave the house. I don’t know what else I would call that.”

Pulling off the last bit of tape, I slid my arm across Christina’s middle to prevent her from falling. “I’m fine,” she said, and I stepped back to give her room, but she teetered forward and was about to land flat on her face.

“Whoa!” I caught her in my arms before she could hit the ground. “Your legs are probably numb. Here, let me help you.”

She put her hands on my shoulder, and I guided her to the bed. Sitting on the black satin comforter, she dropped her head into her hands.

I looked around the room for a bottle of water and noticed the black chair and black dresser in the corner. “You certainly like black.”

“It compliments my soul,” she said with her head still down.

I smiled. The women certainly had a sense of humor, even in tough situations like this.

I realized I’d been going about it all wrong with Christina. I could never meet her head-on. She would need to lead the way.

“So, how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?”

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