Page 168 of Lone Star

His smile turned up sharply at the corners. “So theydotell their women things. I suspected they might.” His voice held a musical quality, velvety and pleasant. The voice of someone who’d practiced being charming. “You know my name, and I obviously know yours, Michelle.”

Intel as simple as her name wouldn’t have been difficult to obtain, not for anyone, but hearing him say it sent fresh terror rippling through her.

He glanced toward Axelle. “This one I don’t know, though.” He took a step toward her, robe swaying, slender back curving as he leaned over her. He lifted a hand – elegant, ringed fingers – and poised it as if to touch her face.

Michelle said, “She’s nobody.”

He paused, hand hovering, cheek twitching as he smiled again. “Really? You just let nobodies into your clubhouses?” He traced one careful fingertip down the slope of Axelle’s nose. Axelle shivered beneath him; Michelle could hear her teeth chattering. “No, I think she’ssomeone. I’d like to find out who.” His finger skimmed the width of Axelle’s mouth, pressed lightly at the point of her chin. Axelle was shaking, her jaw clenched. Her eyes rolled toward Michelle, a desperate plea for help.

“She’s just a friend,” Michelle said, fighting to keep her voice steady. She was terrified for herself, but she’d grown up in this life. She’d been raised to understand that sometimes ugly things happened to the people who walked on the other side of the law. But Axelle was still new to it; only just now starting to trust. This had the ability to break her. “I met her a week ago. She doesn’t know a bloody thing about all this, and she’s not important to the club. If you turn her loose, she’ll run home and not bother you ever again.”

He touched Axelle’s mouth again, a lingering press of this thumb, like a kiss, then straightened, and turned a close-lipped smile back to Michelle, eyes sparkling. “Do you really think that line’s going to work?”

“Worth a shot.”

Glimpse of teeth. “Oh, I like you.”

He retreated, though she knew not to feel relief, and came back a moment later with a cheap folding chair that he set down between the beds. Settled on it, legs crossed, forearms draped casually over his thigh. Relaxed and pretty and unbothered. “What’s her name?” he asked.

Michelle didn’t answer.

“Tell me her name,” he said, pleasantly, “or I’ll cut off a piece of her and mail it back to the clubhouse so someone else can tell me her name.” When she didn’t answer this time, he produced the knife again. Lifted his brows. “Do you think I won’t do it?”

He would. She knew that he would, and Axelle knew it too, going by the faint whimper from the other bed. Luis was a showman, was probably clinically insane, but he’d showed no hesitation so far in murdering and maiming.

“It’s Axelle,” she gritted out.

He bobbed the knife toward her, a little flashinggood girl. “Interesting. Sounds like she ought to be in a band. Or in a whorehouse that caters to truckers.” Another grin. “Close enough, I suppose. Which of your bikers does she belong to?”

“None of them. She’s a groupie.”

Another gesture with the knife. “You’re lying to me again, and I don’t like liars, Michelle.”

“You don’t need her here. Let her go, and keep me. She’s not a valuable hostage.”

“That’s for me to deicide. Whose old lady is she? I won’t ask a third time.”

She thought about what Candy had told her this morning, in the safety and privacy of the sanctuary.If it comes down to saving yourself, or helping the club, I want you to be selfish, little baby thing. I want you to get the hell out. Run and don’t look back. This was the sort of moment he’d been talking about: a tight spot, and he wasn’t here, and she was supposed to save her own skin. Run and don’t look back. Her promise had been a lie, and it still was.

But her hands were tied, and shecouldn’trun. Couldn’t do anything but stall. Play this man’s twisted game, take every opening he gave her, strike at every weak spot…and yield when she had no choice. A good operative knew when to hit, and when to hold back. When to play for time; when to grit their teeth and take the licks.

What would Fox do?

She took a deep breath and managed to let it out on a sigh. The twitch of his brows told her she’d sounded appropriately bored. “Well, she’s not an old lady, that’s for sure. She’s my uncle’s – the sentimental uncle. Picked up a piece of tail and convinced himself he’s in love with her. He’ll be tired of her in a few days.”Sorry, Axe, she thought, and hoped the other girl knew what she was playing at.

He chuckled, delighted. “Albie’s, then.”

“He is the stupid one. Almost got himself blown up in London a few months ago.”

“So I’ve heard. A near death experience can alter a man’s perspectives on love.” He tipped his chin up, inviting.

Michelle snorted. “This isn’t love. It’s a midlife crisis and a good shag.”

He shrugged. “It’s been known to happen.”

“Like I said: she’s a wasted hostage.”

“So you’ve said. I applaud your composure, Mrs. Snow, but you’re overeager to have me turn Axelle loose. Rookie mistake.”

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