Page 116 of Hot for Hostage

Nasir finally acknowledged my existence. He eyed my bra with a measuring look that wasn’t at all leering, while rubbing a hand over his thick beard. “It’s possible, depending on how sophisticated Reed’s bugs are.”

The other two followed his lead and stared at my bra, lingering a little longer than necessary.

But no way was I letting them take off any more of my clothes.

“Hey. Buddy.” I snapped my fingers at Zain, grateful to have at least that much movement with my wrists tied. “This is getting weird. Let’s all just keep the rest of our clothes on, okay? You can play your little fetish games later?—”

“It’s not a fetish game, you freak.” Zain’s withering glare and the tension in his shoulders told me he regretted not getting that duct tape. “It’s payback.”

He jabbed a finger at me—bringing the knife blade dangerously close to my chest again—and I squeaked in fright, sucking in my torso as best I could.

“Are you serious?” Zain’s nostrils flared. “I didn’t even touch you.”

I shuddered, leaning as far from him as I could with my bindings. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stop thinking about you cutting off my nipples. Whatever happens, can you just promise you won’t do that? Anything but that.”

When Zain only stared down at me, Fessy coughed lightly. “It’s a really dumb move to tell us your weaknesses.”

“I don’t care! I’m already freaking out at the possibility. Please promise?”

The brothers exchanged a glance, which led to Fessy shrugging.

“Fine. Whatever,” Zain muttered, lowering his weapon. “We promise not to cut off your nipples.”

Exhaling, I slouched against the chair. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

He frowned, seeming to regret agreeing so quickly.

“But that doesn’t mean we won’t do other things if you and Reed don’t cooperate,” he warned, voice guttural, his patience thinning. “Painful things.”

My answering nod was grim as my heartbeat returned to a normal rate. “I understand.”

“C’mon, Zain. We won’t actually hurt her, will we?” Fessy looked between both of us, fingertips rapidly tapping his thigh. “Reed shot me just for talking to her. Imagine what he’ll do if we?—”

“Shut up!” Zain rounded on his brother, shoving a finger into his face—sans knife this time, I noted. “Question me in front of her again, and she won’t be the only one worried about chopped-off nipples.”

“Dude—”

“Either get on board or get out, Fes.”

Fessy chose to get on board, and he slowly retreated to the corner to lick his wounds.

To distract myself, I watched as Nasir lugged a folding card table and a laptop into the room. He set them up in front of my torture chair and hooked up a few other devices to the computer.

“Well, this looks official,” I muttered, eyeing the fancy equipment.

Once the laptop was open and facing me, Nasir held out a long, thin handheld device to Zain. “Use this to check her for a wire.”

Zain wordlessly took the wand and waved it in front of my bra like a seasoned magician. When the device didn’t beep, Zain returned the wand to Nasir without another word.

No apology. No offer to reimburse me for the ruined shirt. Nothing.

I blinked at his back, thoroughly unamused. “…You couldn’t have done thatbeforedestroying one of my favorite shirts?”

Zain was no longer acknowledging my existence, instead watching as Nasir hunched over the laptop and typed a stream of commands before straightening. “You’re good to go, boss. It’ll start as soon as Reed joins the call.”

“And there’s no way Reed can trace it?” Zain asked, giving me a sliver of hope. Was Davian capable of something like that?

“None,” Nasir confirmed, making me slump back against the chair. “The signal is encrypted.”

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