Page 2 of Cruel Ice

Another growl broke from him. Declan and the cops didn’t mix well. Ever.

“But it could be a while before they arrive, and I was afraid you’d be dead before they got here.”

Declan had no intention of dying. The pressure of the ropes suddenly eased, and pinpricks of pain shot through his fingertips.

“There.” A rush of relief from her.

Declan kept his hands behind his back. He flexed his fingers and made no sound as he let the pain roll through him.

The woman darted in front of him. In the faint light, he could see the glinting blade of the knife that she held in her hands. If she wanted to slice his throat, she should have done thatbeforecutting the ropes that bound his hands.

She sent him a quick, nervous smile. Then she dropped to her knees before him. Her hair—a thick, heavy mass that curled slightly—tumbled over her shoulders. It was too dark for him to see the color clearly. Too dark for him to see her clearly.

But she was suddenly right in front of him and reaching out with the knife.

“I’ll have your legs free as fast as I can. Watch the door, will you? If it opens,tell me.Don’t let some jerk sneak through the door and get the drop on me.”

The door behind her.

“I snuck in through the little window behind you. You’re lucky I could fit. Otherwise, I don’t know how I could have gotten in the basement without your abductors spotting me.”

Lucky.A new word to describe him.

Currently, he was still partially tied up in abasement.Declan wasn’t sure he feltlucky.

He heard the faint sawing as she cut the ropes. Then…

A grinding. Growling?

She stopped cutting. Seemed to stop breathing. “Is that someone leaving this place…?” Her head tilted to the side as she appeared to strain toward the sound. “Or arriving? Oh, please, don’t let that be someone else arriving—or you and I will both be dead.”

Her head turned a bit more as her focus shifted away from him.

“I guess it could be the cops…” She held the knife in her right hand.

He brought his hands forward in a slow, careful movement.

“But wouldn’t the cops come in with sirens blaring?” Soft. Uncertain. Her head started to turn back toward him.

Quick as a striking snake, he yanked the knife from her hand. And he put it right at her throat. Her mouth hung open in a round O of shock.

It took a few seconds for her to snap her mouth shut. Then… “What are you doing?” A squeak. “I’m here to help you!”

Did he look like a freaking idiot?

A motor growled. Definitely a motor. But the sound faded as the car left.

Her shoulders slumped. The movement had her pressing too close to the knife. She gasped, and he realized that he might have just nicked her. “Stop moving against the knife.” A rasp. A slurred rasp from him.

“Oh, no.” Her hands rose and pressed to his chest. As if the woman didn’t see theknife.“Did they drug you? I thought they might have. You didn’t fight much when they put you in the van. Actually, you just kind of slumped.”

Anger pulsed in him. “Get the ropes off my legs.”

“I wastrying.Did you miss that part? But then you took the knife.” Her hands left his chest. One hand—small, delicate—roseto hover over his as he gripped the knife. “If I’m gonna cut you free, I’ll need the knife.”

That was precious. She thought he’d just turn over his weapon? “Get the hell back.”

Her fingers touched the top of his hand. “If you give me the knife, I’ll cut you free.”

---