Page 21 of Unhinged

Kinky motherfucker.

Why do I have the literalworsttaste in men?Why?

“Locking me up doesn’t make you more powerful.”

His lips twitch, and his voice lowers. Calm. Deep. “Of course not. I don’t need bars for that.”

Heat rises in my cheeks. I wasn't prepared for that answer. "So, are you going to tell me who you are, or do I have to question it?"

"You're a smart girl."

Rule number three: Hold your ground.

I shake my head. “I’m not a girl, you condescending prick.”

He drags his eyes down the length of my body, and for the first time, I look down at myself. The shirt I was wearing is ragged, the frayed edges baring my breasts. It’s risen up, showing my torso, and the leggings I'm wearing are still taut around my legs and ass.

"My mistake; you're definitely not a girl."

“Glad we cleared that up unless you need a better flash of my tits, or are you good, big guy?”

His look grows feral. I can feel his low growl from here, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t affect me.

I swallow hard. I play a good game, but I’m human. A sex-deprived, twisted, also kinky, self-assured human.

I was a lot more afraid when I didn't know who was after me, and I feared that my mind was playing tricks on me. Now that I know I have been kidnapped and that I wasn't fucking it all up in my mind, I'm actually a little relieved.

I'm not staying here. If he were going to put a bullet through my skull, he already would have. No… Instead, he's put me in this fucking cage, drugged me, and is taking me to god knows where.

Yes, but I wasbornfor this moment. I know exactly how to slip out of somebody's grip. I know exactly how to get away. I know how to cut a man's balls off, shove them down his throat, and then choke him out in his sleep. And this asshole has actually given me a reason to do that.

Yay me.

I didn't escape the clutches of my father and his fucking asshole minions—the worst, most painful experience of my life—or marriage to the Kopolovs and danger with the Irish, only to end up dragged back like a naughty little girl who ran away from home.

Nope. Not me.

So I'll bide my time, lean into this “I’m so drugged” shtick, and then, at my first opportunity, I'm getting the fuck out of here.

"Hungry?" he asks. Even though he's speaking English, he has a hint of a Russian accent.

"I could use a little water," I say in my most pathetic voice. I add in a little dry cough for the hell of it.

He takes a little bottle from beside him, twists the top off, and sticks it through the bars. But his hands are too damn big. He can't fit through while holding the water bottle. It actually pleases me to see the way he thinks about opening up my cage, as if the second he opens it, I'm going to flee.

I'm obviously hightailing it out of here, but I'm not so dumb to try and take him now. We could be airborne for all I know.

Still, I watch as he slides a key into a metal hook, unfastens it, and warily hands me the bottle.

"Um, my wrists?"

"Nice try. Do the best you can."

Fine then. He wants to play this game? I take the little bottle between my hands and make sure it's sloppy work. I slosh half of it across my torn top. The soaked fabric goes sheer, outlining my full (very nice, if I do say so myself) nipples. Some of the water gets into my mouth, and it does feel good. I wasn't lying; Iamthirsty. I'm also hungry, but I don't give him the satisfaction. For all I know, he’ll poison the food.

Predictably, his gaze drops to the wet T-shirt contest in a cage as he leans in and takes the cuffs out with a grunt. He stares at me but doesn't speak for long minutes while I take my time observing everything I can. He wears a tank top, and the markings on his neck show me a few things. He's not just Bratva but high-ranking Bratva, for one. He spent time in jail for another. But there's no ink to indicate he's an assassin.

"I'm assuming you know the Kopolovs," I say. My tongue is thick, and my voice sounds strange. I close my eyes to make myself look half out of it. He doesn't answer but just watches me. "If you are, then you would know I have a deal with the Irish."

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