My clothes and shoes would also have to go. After that would come the decontamination process to get the blood off me.
But even knowing all the steps I needed to take, I still hadn’t moved. Instead, my mind was turning over my problem.
My little doe had looked at me like I was a monster. I would use that to my advantage and hope that she was smart enough to cooperate.
I opened the trunk, and only a split second elapsed before she lunged at me.
The part of me that wasn’t fucking irritated was impressed with the speed with which she moved.
She was not a small woman, but she moved fast and launched at me with force.
I took half a step back, mostly to brace myself. That was the right call because she had surprising force when she crashed into my chest. I locked my arms around her soft curves.
“Let me go!” she yelled, twisting in my grip.
She bent one of her arms and jabbed me with her sharp elbow.
Her blows were solid, but her effort wasn’t getting the effect she wanted.
So she tried harder, and despite myself I laughed.
She froze, looking almost offended.
“Are you laughing at me?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear—and anger. I didn’t answer, and she wasted no time recovering. She bent her arm as best she could, clearly prepared to attack.
My innocent little captive was amusing, but I’d had enough. I loosened my grip, but before she could react, I closed my fingers around her throat and squeezed.
Her heartbeat was strong against my fingertips, and I felt the way her pulse went erratic.
In a split second, everything changed. Almost immediately she went stiff, and her wide eyes were lasered on mine.
I resisted the urge to smile.
“I’m not laughing at you, bellissima. And I would really recommend you not hit me anymore,” I said.
My voice was quiet, but she got my message loud and clear.
She flinched and her eyes widened slightly. She was even more afraid than she had been just moments before.
To my shock, I reacted to the change in her.
People’s fear, their tears, even their anger didn’t stir me.
But this woman did, and I had no fucking idea what to do with that.
So I ignored it completely and refocused on her.
“Let me go,” she said.
“No,” I responded.
“Then…?” she asked, letting the question dangle.
But even though she didn’t finish the question, I knew exactly what she wanted to know.
“What will I do with you?” I finished.
She nodded, seeming almost afraid to acknowledge the question but unable to ignore it.