Page 63 of Master of Lies

“Anytime,” he said. “I stand ready.”

I couldn’t look at that smirk one second longer without slapping him, so I got up and stomped past him. “Put your dick away,” I snarled “It’s not getting any attention from me. Ever again.”

“Never? Really?” His voice was low and taunting. “You sure about that?”

“Not in this lifetime.” I grabbed the bag that held all the stuff I’d pried out of my coat hem pocket, and slammed the bathroom door behind me.

The bathroom is still hot and swampy. The streaks of condensation that rolled down through the fog on the mirror showed my shocked eyes and hot-pink flush.

I looked as if I had just escaped from a burning building…and was actually considering running right back inside. The man was driving me out of my head.

I got into the shower, because why the hell not. Though when I got out, I had to get right back into the same stale, filthy clothes the luckless Mickey would never wear, which kind of canceled out the shower. Thinking of him made me feel guilty as hell, but I was not the greedy, murdering filth who had set this chain of events in motion. I was just trying to help.

I had failed, yes. Quite spectacularly. But that was my only crime.

I washed my hair, brushed my teeth, and pulled on the oversized, belted pants, the sloppy T-shirt, toweling my hair into a wild snarl of blonde tangles. When I came out, I was startled to see him already dressed. Or, more specifically, to see him dressed like that. In a costly, well-cut suit.Yowza.

It looked incredible on him. How could it not, with that face, that body? His hair was still wet, smoothed back and gathered into a short ponytail, and he’d trimmed and shaped the beard. He’d stopped short of a tie, and there wasn’t much that could be done about the bruises and scrapes on his cheekbone, and part of his tattoo was visible over his collar on the side of his neck. And even so, he looked stunning, and memorable. Like a dangerous, drop-dead elegant billionaire mobster.

“Whoa, Jed,” I said. “What are you all gussied up for?”

“I’m going to talk to Grifo,” he said.

“That’s the first piece of actual hard information you’ve given me today,” I said. “You know, I was thinking. Maybe we should attend that gala.”

“And how would we manage that?”

I shrugged. “Easy,” I said. “We donate to their cause. It’s what, ten thousand a head? For a crappy meal and a bunch of boring speeches?”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Highway robbery.” He sat on the bed, opening his laptop. “I found the address of Grifo’s practice. Come here for a second. I’ll show you.”

I hesitated out of pure stubbornness, but curiosity got the better of me. I went over to him, peering down at the laptop’s screen. “If you’re going to dress like that, we’ll have to stop at the mall so I can pick up some decent stuff, too.”

“I don’t think so.” He grabbed my wrist.Snick.

Handcuffs? The fuck? I looked at him in disbelief. Inhaled to scream.

Suddenly, his huge hand was over my mouth, and I was lifted off my feet. A sudden twirl, andflop,I was flat on my back in the big bed with the wrought-iron headboard. His hand lifted from my mouth to grab my other wrist.Snick.

Now both of my arms were handcuffed to the headboard. I craned my neck to look, flailing uselessly. The cuffs were hooked through a loop of wrought iron.

He straddled me, which squished out what breath I had left. Not enough to scream with, not with him pinning me down. My eyes had filled with tears, to my utter dismay. My breath was hitching. Goddamn him.

He slid off me quickly and lay there beside me. “I am really sorry about this,” he said urgently. “I swear to God, I am. I do not like doing this to you.”

I sucked in air. “Help! Help me!” I yelled.

“No one will hear you,” he said. “The cabin is too far from the others, even if they were inhabited, which they’re not. I checked. That’s why I requested this one. I picked this place for the iron bedframes, and the cabins with plenty of space around them. Also because it was off-season, and there’s a forest. I needed a place I could hide you where you wouldn’t be able to hurt yourself.”

“You arrogant fuckingjerk.” I yanked at my bonds, rattling them wildly. “You cannot leave me here handcuffed! Let me go. I promise, I won’t bug you, I won’t follow you. I’ll sit here, on my hands. Just don’t do this to me. It’s wrong!”

“It’s the only thing,” he said. “I should only be a couple of hours at the most. I have to go to this guy’s private practice and see if I can talk to him. Or failing that, at least get some info from the people who worked with him.”

“Hours?” My voice cracked in outrage. “You’re leaving me like this for hours?”

“I’ve set it up very carefully. If the worst should happen, and someone killed me, two things will happen. If I don’t cancel it deliberately, a timed email will go out in eight hours to the local police, alerting them of your location.”

“Eight fucking hours? Are you kidding me?”

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