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“That sounds very … textbook,” I note with confusion.

Evie grins sheepishly. “I’m a licensed therapist.”

“You’re a therapist living on a boat with a gang of criminals?” I blurt, mystified.

She shrugs. “Guilty as charged. It’s funny how life unfolds sometimes.”

I laugh because … how can I not? What other absurdity will come my way next? This day has been full of them—one curveball after another.

After getting in a good laugh herself, she gives my arm an affectionate squeeze. “I better get back. Remember, call for me if you need anything, and … good luck.” The last part is barely more than a whisper. She’s worried about me. She’s not alone.

I’m worried about me, too.

But more than that, I have responsibilities back home. People count on me, and I worry about letting them down. My prolonged absence may cost innocent people their lives. All I can do right now is hope this resolves quickly and that I can get back to the people and causes I love.

I take a moment to look through the items inside Evie’s tote bag. A couple of casual outfits and shower supplies. She thoughtfully included feminine products, but I won’t need them. What I would have loved was to find a phone buried in the bag, but that was a little too much to hope for.

I finish out my search of the bedroom without finding anything of consequence. It’s no wonder he wasn’t concerned about leaving me in here alone. There’s nothing to see. No weapons. No personal effects. Nothing of substance considering the man clearly spends a good deal of time here. He has enough clothes in the closet to last weeks.

Who are you, Elio Farina, and what happened to you?

Strangely, I think I’m more scared to find out that second question than I am of Elio himself. A fragment of the boy I used to know still exists inside him. He’s in there, somewhere. If I can find him, maybe the man he is now will let me go.

Unsure what else to do, I take a seat on the bed and turn on the TV.

The sun has long since set when the bedroom door opens again, this time with no warning. Elio walks past me without a word and heads straight for the bathroom. He slides the retractable double doors shut, but they stop two inches shy of closing.

I hear what sounds like the shower turn on.

A cascade of feverish tingles electrifies my veins with an intoxicating blend of fear and excitement. If anyone else had taken me, I’m certain the only emotion I’d be experiencing would be terror, but something inside me seems to be broken where Elio is concerned.

I don’t understand it at all.

I spent two decades thinking I was asexual. That sort of thing simply didn’t interest me. I could recognize if a person was attractive, but I never felt that flutter of desire everyone talks about. No fantasies or cravings. Relationships, especially sexual, have never been on my radar, which was why marrying Mazzi seemed like the obvious choice. Why not marry him and save someone else the grief?

Then the dreams started.

I’d thought they were about DiAngelo, but could it be that somehow subconsciously I knew differently? How? And what is it about Elio that unearthed a side of me I had given up on?

As it turns out, that side of me does exist, and it feels incredible—especially now that I know I’m not lusting after my best friend’s boyfriend. I don’t want it to disappear again. The warmth that pools in my center. The jolts of pleasure that spike my heart rate. They’re addictive. It’s no wonder people lose their minds when they fall in love.

Not that I’m in love. It’s lust, pure and simple.

I just don’t understand why it had to be him.

My captor and a murderer.

I should be hiding in the back of the closet, wielding whatever weapon I could find, not sitting on the bed staring at the seam between the bathroom doors.

Waiting.

For what?

For whatever comes next.

It turns out what’s next is Elio returning to the bedroom in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs pulled tight around muscular thighs, his full magnificent body on display. So much strength. So many scars. I’m hungry and heartbroken in the same breath.

“You don’t have any tattoos,” I note quietly.