Page 10 of Blood Ties

“Don’t,” he grunted without looking at me.

My gaze narrowed on him for his ability to read my mind, but I still debated. Except before I could possibly make my escape, we were turning into an underground parking garage. The driver brought us right to the elevator.

“This is us,” Nick explained and climbed out of his side. He held a hand in to help me out.

“I need to call my dad,” I insisted before I would take it. For some crazy reason I trusted him, but I still had my priorities.

“Fine, but I’ll tell you what you can and can’t say.”

I glared at him but took his hand and followed him out. We got on the elevator and he used his thumbprint to choose a floor. Neither of the two guys came with us.

In the privacy of the enclosed space, he backed me against the wall as he stared intently into my eyes. “It’s very important that you do as I say. I’m doing my best to keep you safe right now.”

He was so close, I could see every detail of his beautiful eyes, count every thick, dark lash. My nose could trail over the dark scruff that dusted his jawline if I leaned my head in. Pressure squeezed my chest and between my legs tingled. This was so not the time.

“Nick?” I whispered in confusion at how I was feeling after we’d just been chased across downtown.

“Jesus Christ. Stop that shit,” he muttered as he frowned and took a quick step away from me. “Pull yourself together.”

Like I was the only one who was affected?

“You’re a dick.” This wasn’t the same guy I’d been exchanging sexually charged text messages with over the past week.

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Your name isn’t Nick, is it?”

“Nope.” The elevator stopped and he guided me off and then to one of two doors on the floor.

“Is it Dick?” I curled my lip.

He shot me a deadpan stare, though the corner of his mouth twitched. Then he opened the door, and we entered a bright, spacious condo.

“You live here?” I asked as I scanned the room. My artist’s eye made note of the clean, modern lines and the incredible natural light. The furnishings had a decidedly masculine feel to them, but there were little hints of a woman’s touch and I wondered who it had been.

He shrugged as he entered the kitchen and rummaged through a drawer.

“Gee, your answers are positively illuminating,” I muttered as I rolled my eyes in irritation. Maybe I was being mouthy, but so far, he hadn’t done anything to hurt me. And he was letting me call my father, which after what I’d just learned, was a necessity.

Finally, he clicked a battery into a cheap phone and set it on the counter. He gestured toward it.

Cautiously, I shuffled closer and reached for it. Keeping an eye on him, I dialed my dad’s number, praying he’d answer.

“Put it on speaker. Tell him you’re safe and you’ll call him when you can.”

“Sure.” I did as I was told.

“Yes?” My father’s voice was brusk and all business, likely because he didn’t know the number.

“Dad?”

“Nivea. Whose phone is this?” All traces of my usual jokester dad were gone. This was the all-business dad.

“A friend’s,” I replied. “I lost my phone, so I’m using theirs.”

“Who’s the friend?” I could hear my dad furiously typing. Considering my dad knew I had exactly seven friends here, and he knew everything about them, I had a feeling I knew what he was doing. I’d had the same friends since college where we’d all met and, though we were a motley bunch, we were close.

I glanced at Not-Nick and gave him a questioning stare.

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