Page 38 of Queen Of WildCards

Theunspoken disappointment and surprise were plain to hear in his tone, andIrolled my eyes at his loss of touch with reality for those of us with a full-time job and an everyday life. "Wecan't all afford a tricked-out warehouse crib, asshole,"Imuttered, irate over his judgment. "Thisis what my measly salary pays for.It'shome, and it's allIhave."

Iopened my apartment door and let him in first, watching as he crossed the room in just a few strides.Theapartment seemed much smaller with a large man likeSpadeoccupying the small space; it seemed much larger when my cats andIwere the only inhabitants.

"So," he said, plunking down on the couch with an audible groan, "how's about you pack yourself a couple of days' worth of clothes, andIwill feed these cats that you've told me so little about?"

"Sure,"Imuttered asImade my way back to the hall to my bedroom. "I'llget right on that."

"Doyou have anything to drink in this place?"Hestood back up and marched into my kitchen, the relatively small space almost comically so with his bulky frame hanging over the counter.

"Theremight be a beer or two left in the fridge, butI'mnot sure how old they are.Idon't drink very often—drinking alone is notquiteas fun as drinking with friends."Ileft him to it and grabbed an overnight bag out of the hall closet, determined not to break down in front of him.

Icouldn't deny how strange this whole situation felt, almost domestic in its simplicity.HereIwas, freshly sexed up by a criminal who was now in my kitchen, feeding what amounted to my children.Thetwo furballs in question had no loyalty, instead opting to meow loudly at their new master, who they'd already adopted thanks to his possession of their cat food.

Theydidn't seem interested in my return, only in the one who patiently waited for them to settle to feed them.Spadetook to my cats like they were his own.Asthe familiar tinkling sound of small brown rocks hitting the bottom of a metal pan echoed through the hallway,Ireached blindly into my dresser.Ibegan to pull out handfuls of clothes, not even bothering to concern myself with the color or type.Myonly goal was to fill the bag and get moving again.IfIstopped to think about it all, ifIreallystopped to analyze the situation,Imight find things out about myself thatIwasn't ready to admit.

Forinstance, my absolute abandon of all rational thought asIwas getting railed absolutely senseless against the hood of a car in broad daylight.

Iknew that once we left my apartment, we'd be heading back to their place, andIwasn't sureIwas ready for the questions they'd ask whenSpadetold them what we'd been up to.Ifhe told him.Istill wasn't sure if he planned to tell them anything at all.Maybehe planned to throw me under the bus;Iexpected nothing less, to be honest.

Timepasses slower when you're deep in thought, and it must have flown past me whileImulled over my uncertain future because the next thingIknew, two hands had grabbed me by the waist, andSpade'slong, red hair was slowly sliding over my shoulder as he leaned in to see what held my attention.

Itwas a pair of skimpy red panties, becauseof course it was.

"Thoseare cute," he breathed against my ear, his body crowding me in like the heated wall of muscle that it was.Iswallowed a yelp of surprise and stuffed the damn things back into my drawer, regretting the action as soon asIpulled my hand back out.

"CanIhelp you?"Isnapped, aiming to defend myself as he encroached on my personal space some more.

Mymoment of weakness against his car was just that—a moment of weakness.Itwasn't about to happen again.Ineeded to make sure this guy understood that.

Hisanswering smirk hinted that he might not give a shit what my plans were. "Wecan't stay here long, sweetheart—"

Ishoved at his chest, irritation rising. "Notyour sweetheart,Spade.I'myour captive."

Heleaned in and nuzzled my throat, sending a shiver down my spine and scattering my thoughts to the wind. "Idon't recall forcing you to do a damn thing,Mallory.Andlast timeIchecked, most captives didn't marry their captors."

Nowit was my turn to be confused. "We'renot married."

Helicked a line up the column of my throat and reached back into my drawer, retrieving the red pantiesI'dhidden away from his view. "Yet."

Hewas gone as suddenly as he'd appeared, calling for my fucking cats like this was his house and he belonged here.Istormed over to my closet and began yanking down all manner of clothes, not paying a lick of attention to what ended up where.Asecond bag joined the first, andIfilled it with shoes of all kinds—sneakers, heels, sandals, slippers, you name it.Ifthey were determined to make me uncomfortable in that damn place, ifIwas destined to be stuck in one spot, unable to do anything, see anyone, go anywhere, then dammit,I'dmake it their problem whatIwas wearing.

Iwas half tempted to leave it all here and prance around in this ruined ensemble until they forced me into new clothes.ButifIwalked back outside in this ripped top and this leather skirt,I'dkick my own ass for it.AndIcould use a fucking shower, thoughIknewSpadewasn't about to let me take one, soIsnuck to the bathroom and cleaned up with a wet washcloth as best asIcould, whimpering a little at the sensation it stirred between my legs asIwiped his and my own sticky residue from between clenched thighs.

Ifbeing turned on was going to be a constant state of being around these men, though,I'dneed a few other things to make it through my isolation in that fucking place.Witha smile borne of pure contempt for men who thought they ran things simply because they had a dick between their legs,Iwandered to my bedside stand and removed a little black velvet pouch, tugged it open to make sure all my supplies were safely stored inside, and slipped it into the bottom of my bag of shoes.

I'dbe damned ifIneeded anything they had to offer.Myonly goal was to get out of this alive, and ifIgot to have a little fun along the way, so be it.

Asalmost an afterthought,Itrotted into my bathroom and pulled the six months supply of birth control from the cabinet, adding it to the bag of shoes.Ididn't plan to have any babies whileIwas a captive of criminals, not a chance in hell.

I'ddie beforeIwas saddled with these crazed, possessive, domineering, dangerous men for a life sentence.

* * *

Thecriminal had a gentlemanly side,as he didn't let me carry any of my things to the car, even thoughIprotested.I'dswapped the sliced-up sheer shirt for a ragged off-the-shoulder tee, some obscure eighties band plastered across the front, their tour schedule on the back.Ikept the leather skirt becauseIdidn't have much time, butSpadehad me instantly regretting that as he used his injured arm to steer the car, and his perfectly healthy one migrated to my lap.

"Shouldn'tyou be driving?"Istuttered, eyes glued to the road ahead soIwouldn't look down and spot his hand in a very precarious place.

"I'mcapable of multi-tasking, sweetheart," he shot back, his voice laced with amusement. "Whydon't you sit back and enjoy the ride?"

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