Page 3 of Little Bird (Advantage Play 3)

It doesn’t work.

Pulling my arms across my almost-naked chest while hoping to cover the important bits that are currently on display, I scramble farther into the corner.

“Shh…,” he shushes, his feet stopping his pursuit. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

A dry laugh escapes me, but it comes out more like a squeak.

“I promise,” he continues, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to take care of you and make sure no one touches you. Understand?”

Taking him in, he looks so sincere. If it were any other situation, I might believe him. But I’m not stupid. I’ve been kidnapped, am being held against my will, and am locked in a room with nothing but a dirty mattress that smells like pee and a few pairs of handcuffs. I mean, come on.

As he looks closer, his jaw clenches before his fingers start unbuttoning his shirt, disproving his comment from only thirty seconds ago.

I don’t bother begging him not to touch me. It’d only be a waste of breath. Instead, I just hold his stare as he slides the shirt from his muscular torso until he’s in nothing but a pair of slacks and a white undershirt. When the crisp fabric hits my face, I tug it away, then look up at him with confusion.

He surprises me by squatting down, then sitting on the cold cement a few feet away to give me plenty of space. I find myself frozen, unable to move a muscle.

“Put it on.” He lifts his chin to the shirt I’m clutching in my hands.

Again, I don’t move.

“This isn’t a trick,” he mutters. “I’ll even close my eyes if you want me to. It’s cold as hell in here, and I doubt you like being naked and vulnerable.”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I slowly unfold my body with the shirt still acting as a barrier between us. When we both realize I’m going to have to reveal my nearly bare body to him in order to wrap the shirt around me, he closes his eyes. “Five seconds. Don’t try anything stupid.”

Quickly, I slide my arms into the sleeves then attempt to button the front within the allotted time of privacy, but my fingers are numb from the cold, and I struggle to push each little button through the loop. Finally, my fumbling attempt is successful, and I look up to find him watching me.

“Time’s up,” he mutters.

I swallow, refusing to take in all the glorious olive skin within arm’s reach. This is probably some ploy to get into my pants without me fighting him. Show her a bit of kindness, and she’ll spread her legs with ease. I grit my teeth and bring my eyes back to his.

“I’m Dex,” he introduces himself.

The awkward silence is suffocating, but I don’t know what to say.

“What’s your name?” he probes.

With glassy eyes, I blink. “Are you serious right now?”

A puzzled expression is all I get in reply, forcing me to continue, “Were you not there for Burlone’s little speech? How he stripped us of our clothes then stripped us of our names, telling us we’re nothing but helpless little pieces of fruit, ripe for the picking.” I release a shaky breath.

“You’re not a piece of fruit.”

I scoff, wiping away a stray tear as it rolls down my cheek.

“You aren’t,” he insists. “If anything, I’d say you’re a little bird who was placed in a cage and is begging to be set free.”

“Then I guess that’s what you should call me. Little Bird. Because I don’t think I’ll ever be the same person I once was.”

With a nod, he stands to his full height, towering over me. “I think we finally found something we can both agree on, Little Bird.”

I don’t bother to look up at him. Instead, I stay focused on his loafers and dark slacks as he retreats to the door, closing it behind him.

Chapter Four

Dex

“So, how’s the fruit holding up?” Sei asks with a wicked grin. He’s lazily sitting back in his chair with another damn cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth.

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