Page 115 of Hot for Hostage

Sadie’s Guide toHostage-TakingBeing Taken HostageForming a Partnership with Your HostageEmbracing the Hostage LifestyleNot Freaking OutEscapingBeing Taken Hostage (Again), Tip #31: Just because YOU are opposed to torturing your hostages doesn’t mean all hostage-takers are. It helps to keep in mind you’re more useful to them alive.

At least, I hope that helps.

One second, Fessy had been threatening to smother me with duct tape. Then the next, Zain stormed into the room like a crazed barbarian out for blood.

He charged at me without a moment of hesitation, and I saw my short—yet joyful and love-filled—life flash before my eyes as I braced myself against the chair.

When he reached me, he grabbed my jaw tight enough that I whimpered—jerking my chin until I was looking into his furious gaze.

But it was the knife he wielded that stole my breath.

Fessy hastily tottered over on his crutches. “Bro, what the heck are you doing?”

Zain ignored him and kept a firm grip on my jaw as he lifted the knife toward my chest.

Ohno.

This was taking a turn from very bad to potentially catastrophic.

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god,” I chanted as he moved the weapon closer to my breast. My heart pounded against my rib cage hard enough that my head swam. This was my worst fear coming to life. “Please don’t cut off my nipples!”

The sharp blade froze a hair’s breadth from the fabric of my shirt, and Zain’s dark gaze flicked up to mine. “…What?”

Each breath felt like it was ripped out of me.

“I have a phobia of someone cutting off my nipples and eyelids. Please, anything but that!” I cried, trying to suck in my chest while pulling harder against the stubborn ropes around my wrists—but the knots were impressively tight. If the Ali brothers hadn’t already chosen a life of crime, their knot-tying skills would’ve given them a leg up as Boy Scouts. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. You want my peanut butter dog treat recipe? It’s yours. Code to the shelter’s medicine supply? Eight-Four-Nine-Zero-Two. Justpleasedon’t chop off my?—”

“Stop.Talking.” He swiped downward, and the knife sliced through the front of my shirt like butter, making me stiffen with an undignified squeak. The ruined shirt gaped open, leaving only one final barrier between me and these hooligans—my pink demi bra with cartoon cupcakes.

At least Davian had chosen a cute one.

“I’m making sure you’re not wired, you moron,” Zain grumbled, acting likeIwas the one pushing the boundaries of acceptable hostage-situation behavior. “Something that should’ve been done before loading you into the car.”

The last bit was barked at Fessy, whose brows pulled together. “No one told me to do that.”

My chest heaved with uneven breaths, but relief had me slumping back in the chair as Zain let go of my jaw.

My nipples were safe.

“Oh. Okay.” Though I wasn’t sure why he thought I’d be wearing a wire. Did Zain think I was a spy going undercover to infiltrate Davian’s compound? I mustered a shaky smile, all too aware how much skin was on display now. “See? No wire here. Just a cute bra I got on sale at that boutique downtown that has the pink churro stand out front. Best churros in the city.”

When Zain’s only response was a twitch of his left eyebrow, I looked down again at my bra and all the cleavage on display, then swallowed. “But, um… if it’s all right with you, I’d prefer to keep my bra on. It’s embarrassing enough that I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Zain’s continued blank stare warned me—once again—that it was time to shut up.

He glanced down at my lap before frowning at Fessy. “You’re positive this is the girl Reed’s screwing?”

“Hey, we are notscrewing.” My cheeks must’ve been bright scarlet as I shifted in the seat. “I mean, sure, there were some close calls… Not that my sex life is any of your business.”

But Fessy ignored me and nodded. “It’s her. They were all over each other. He even came to my headquarters to get the mutt back for her.”

“Could everyone please stop calling Bear names?” I muttered.

A quick rapping on the door made all three of us stiffen before a stout middle-aged man poked his head inside. His gaze went straight to Zain, not even acknowledging me tied to a chair in the middle of the room. “I sent the link to Reed. The call starts in a few minutes.”

I perked up. A call with Davian sounded promising. He would know what to do.

“Good work, Nasir. Get everything set up,” Zain ordered. “And there was no wire under her shirt. Could something fit inside a bra?”

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