Page 8 of Fixed Asset

“If Mase starts talking about popping a boner, I’m out,” Fallon joined in.

Throughout this exchange, Jack’s gaze stayed locked with mine. There was something working behind those dark-blue orbs. Something I couldn’t make out. But whatever he was contemplating would remain a mystery.

“To answer the question you’re too stubborn to ask, Mase took your pack right before he zip-tied your ankles.”

I thought back, and I didn’t remember being divested of the bag, but I was struggling and wiggling, trying to regain my freedom, so anything was possible. I mean, obviously it was, because I no longer had my backpack.

“Way to throw me under the bus,” Mason mumbled.

“The answer to your other question is, no one is taking you back to the hotel until after we talk.”

Talk?

What the hell was there to talk about?

“A lot,” Jack answered my unasked question.

“Stop reading my mind.”

“Baby, your every thought is playing across your face.”

That wasn’t true. I had an excellent poker face.

One side of Jack’s mouth hitched up.

I narrowed my eyes, leaned closer, and inquired, “What am I thinking now?”

What was supposed to be an act of defiance backfired. I knew this when what I’d meant to sound snotty instead came out breathy.

“Do you really want me to answer that, Cat?”

“If your answer is anything other than me wanting to punch you in the face, you’d be wrong,” I lied.

Jack made a tsking sound. He lowered his head, veering to the side before his lips touched mine, but I felt them ever so gently whisper across my temple before his mouth was at my ear and he quietly said, “Such a pretty liar.”

He pulled back, leaving my brain scrambled. Since I was incapable of speaking, I stared mutely as he released my wrists, only to pry one of my hands off his chest and use it to pull me around the dingy couch.

“Excuse us.”

We were crossing the threshold of a doorless doorway when I found my voice. “Where are we going?”

“To work this out.”

Jack threatening to spank me immediately sprang to mind. My hand in his involuntarily spasmed.

“Not that way, Cat. But I like the way you think.”

Goodness gracious, the dude was the master of mixed signals. One second he looked like he wanted to throttle me and was telling me I was a pain in his ass, the next he was whispering sexy things in my ear.

“What is this place? And where is it?”

“Palmira.”

Well, that explained the short van ride. This neighborhood was only a few blocks from where I’d been eating lunch.

“Are you insane? Palmira is controlled by Adrián Lopez.”

“No crazier than you walking down the street with a neon sign flashing above your head announcing: beautiful American, please take me. And I’m impressed you’ve done your homework.”