Page 41 of Dirty Gambit

He was messing with her, she realized with severe irritation. He was trying to get into her head.

Not allowing herself to fall for his head games, Lena raised her chin and arched an eyebrow. “You’re not nearly as cute as you think you are and I’m not stupid. Now, get on the bed.”

Still smirking like the cat who ate the canary, Jaxon heel-toed backwards in the direction of the second bed. He never took his eyes off her, not even when he lowered himself down on the mattress.

Lena reached for the baby bag, her own attention never wavering from the man picking at all her distrust. She unearthed the handcuffs from the side pocket and motioned for him to lie back and raise his arms.

To her surprise and growing trepidation, he did so without an ounce of protest. He scooted himself down under the covers and waited patiently for her to approach.

She wondered if he was going to jump at her once she was close enough if that was his plan. That seemed like the most logical course of action, definitely something he would attempt. But she didn’t want to warn him against it, in case that hadn’t even occurred to him. Thinking fast, she tossed him the metal bands and stepped back.

“Around the beams,” she told him, gesturing to the bars along the headboard.

Amusement narrowed his eyes, but he gathered up the cuffs and snapped the wrist on his right hand to the bed. The other band went around the wood. Lena waited until she heard the metal teeth click into place before moving forward to check.

His wraps needed changing. The old ones were wet and stained with blood and filth. The flesh underneath seemed slightly less angry, but it would take a while before they were fully healed. The sight of his injuries ate at her. She hated that he was hurt when she’d promised to return him in better condition. It almost made her think she should have used leather cuffs rather than metal, but she couldn’t trust him not to break free of those. Plus, they were harder to restrain in certain places. Steel had been her only option, except maybe zip ties. But those would only hurt him more.

“Do I get to keep them, doc?”

Lena blinked away from the wounds to face the man studying her. “What?”

He gestured with a nod of his chin to the wrist she’d been unwrapping. “The way you were staring, I was beginning to think we’d have to amputate.”

“No,” she mumbled, distracted, exhausted, and hungry. “It looks like it’s healing. I’m going to get my kit,” she told him, moving away towards her bags.

She located the emergency kit and frowned at her dwindling supplies. The gauze was nearly gone. There was just enough for that night, but she would need to pick up another roll, especially if she wanted to thicken the padding to protect his skin.

Items in hand, she padded back to him and took a seat next to his sheet-clad hip. Meticulously, she cut away the old wrap, cleaned and disinfected the cuts, and reapplied the bands. She doubled the layer to be safe, using up what remained of her supplies.

“Do they hurt?” she asked, careful to keep her gaze averted and her hands busy tidying up her mess.

“They’re fine.”

It was hard to tell if he was lying or not, but she let it slide. The injuries weren’t life-threatening and he’d be home and properly cared for in a day and a half. She just needed to keep them from getting infected until then.

Rising, she left him and went to gather Jessie fresh, clean clothes. She filled the tub and prepared the girl for a bath, which Lena wound up taking with her — fully dressed. The floor had an inch of water across it and droplets plopped down from the ceiling. She had no idea how someone so small could make such a massive mess, but Jessie proved to be a terror during bath time.

“Should have warned you,” Jaxon said when Lena emerged, dripping wet and miserable.

“That would have been nice,” she grumbled, moving over to her suitcase and locating dry clothes for herself.

Jessie shrieked and ran past her, a tiny bottle of motel shampoo clasped in her hand. Lena didn’t bother chasing her down for it. All she wanted was to get dry and lie down on an actual bed for a few minutes. But she forced herself to put on the TV for the pair, plopped Jessie down on the mattress next to Jaxon, waited until he had a good grip on her, handed him the remote, and then left the pair to disappear into the bathroom.

Hidden inside, she stripped quickly and climbed into the tub, opting for a quick rinse herself. She washed, letting the tapered spray beat against her knotted muscles left behind from stress and sleeping on a hard ground, something she hadn’t done in years. She could have probably stayed there for hours, overlooking the pathetic temperature if it weren’t for the nagging little voice reminding her she’d left her prisoner alone for too long.

Draped in a towel, she snapped off the lights, nudged the door open a crack, and peered into the dimly lit room. It took her a moment to locate the figures on the bed. One sat up, propped by pillows, one arm raised over his head. The other lay snuggled against his side, tiny fingers curled by her mouth, fast asleep. Not for the first time, Lena couldn’t help wondering about the girl’s uncharacteristic behavior. Lissa had been a terrible sleeper. She’d fussed and cried the whole night. Car rides had been worse. Anything that forced her to sit still for longer than a few minutes would have her shrieking the roof down. Yet, Jessie couldn’t seem to care less. She was completely content to simply be there. Maybe it was the novelty of the situation, and the kid was distracted by all the movement and commotion, but the contrast still struck Lena as unusual.

She turned her attention back to the bigger figure, studying him through the pale light of the dancing screen. He seemed focused on whatever he was watching, not so much as blinking.

Curious to see what had his rapid attention, Lena pried the door open wider and peered deeper into the gloom at the only source of light.

He’d turned to a news station and a thin, blond man staring back with dire urgency.

“The manhunt continues as officials search for the person responsible for the murders of three police officers during a jewelry heist gone wrong last week. The cameras were disabled, possibly by the suspect, but DNA left behind at the crime scene puts Angelena Ramos at the top of the most wanted list. Police ask that no one approach Ramos. She’s armed and dangerous. Police ask that anyone with information to call the hotline.”

The announcement was followed by an old, grainy mugshot of her from her time in juvie. The orange jumper had bleached the color from her face. It highlighted the dark smudges of running makeup around her narrowed eyes and the hard, white line of her lips. Her hair had been tousled, a knot of dark riots around her shoulders. Even in the photo, there was no missing her anger, her refusal to conform. She glowered at the camera with defiance that left no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was a criminal. And now, the entire world was comparing that face with that of a cop killer’s. It was made worse when hers was placed front and center with the photos of the three dead policemen along the top.

Lena must have made a sound, a quick intake of air, maybe, but Jaxon’s head turned to her. Shadows draped over his features, blocking them from her, but she knew he was studying her.

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