Page 17 of Devious Secrets

Shame. I didn’t get a chance to enjoy them before she wiped them off.

“You’re not going to tell me why you took it?”

Game time is over. It’s nearly three in the morning and I have shit to do tomorrow. If she’s not going to cooperate, I have no other choice.

Her gaze doesn’t meet mine. She’s looking everywhere else, my chin, my chest, my ear, but she won’t meet my gaze.

“I can’t.” She sounds tired. Like she’s had enough of this, too. “You have it back. Just go.”

As I stare at her, I notice her nipples pressing against the nightshirt.

If she’d stolen something useless, like an embossing press with the club logo on it, I could walk out right now and ignore this whole thing. I could go home, wrap my hand around my cock, and play this scene over in my head until I unleashed my climax.

But she hadn’t.

She stole Dexter Thompson’s flash drive.

And that can’t be ignored.

My decision made, I give her a curt nod.

No going back now.

For the second time tonight, I spin her around until her back is to me.

“What are you doing?!” She squirms as I pull her arms behind her. With one hand, I hold her wrists together as I work the zip ties out of my back pocket.

“Enough.” I jerk her back toward me when she keeps wiggling.

“Ow! No. That hurts!” She tries to wrench her wrists apart, but I have one zip tie already on. I’m sure it does fucking hurt; that plastic is going to cut into her skin if she keeps this fight up.

I put the second one on, then spin her back to face me.

She brings her head back, like she’s going to try and headbutt me.

I only sigh, then bend over and throw my shoulder into her stomach.

There’s a groan when I have her hoisted up.

“No! No!” She kicks and I wish I had brought the straps for her legs. But I hadn’t thought things would get this far.

She should have been scared enough to spill the truth by now.

Carrying her around makes me move a little slower, but I manage to grab a few things, then head out the door, locking it once we’re outside.

“Help! Help!” She’s doing her best, but really, it’s the middle of the night and no one’s coming to help her in this place.

She groans more when I jog down the flight of stairs. I parked in front of the building, so it’s not a far distance.

The trunk pops as soon as I get close enough.

“Boss?” Yogi steps up to the car.

“I have it from here,” I assure him. “But go inside and make sure there’s no lingering issues.”

“Not a problem.”

I dump her into the trunk. Thankfully, she’s too stunned at first to do much other than shake her hair away from her face.

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