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The next second, a cell phone rang. Cursing, I fumbled in the dark until I found it and answered. “You know I’m going to call 9-1-1, asshole. Even you can’t just kidnap people from a college campus.”
“Go ahead and try it. I’ll wait.” Cain sounded amused, and in the background, I heard the slam of his car door shutting.
I hung up on him and attempted to dial 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” Cain sounded even more unbearably satisfied with himself than usual.
“You’re an absolute dickhead.”
“You were right. Remington and I really do need to work as a team. I couldn’t have set up a line for us to chat like this without him,” Cain said mildly. “So, what do you think about that trip to the club?”
I’d been thinking about it all day, with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. I’d known even dragging me into a BDSM club wouldn’t be enough for Cain, even if he needed me; there had to be some sort of special touch.
Apparently, that signature move was kidnapping.
“I was going to tell you I’d go,” I was too pissed to even lie about it, “but apparently you decided you didn’t care about my answer.”
“Never did,” he said pleasantly. “I just wanted you to know what you were in for tonight. It wouldn’t be any fun to just stuff you into the trunk.”
With mock-sympathy, he added, “Just so you know, the trunk of the McLaren was a lot more comfortable.”
I was still telling him what an asshole he was when he cut in. “Just remember, I’m not going to let anyone else touch you. Just like you won’t let anyone else touch me.”
I wondered what Pax thought about that statement, since Pax had definitely touched me recently after his fight…and every night that he came into my room. Cain had said he considered Pax, Remington, and Stellan his only friends; even though jealousy seemed heavy as smoke in the air whenever the others touched me, maybe they didn’t count.
Or maybe I had the power to tear all four of them apart. The thought made me contemplate my potential for vengeance.
He’d hung up on me. I didn’t feel my most empowered being trapped in this trunk. If only Jenna was here with her enormous purse of duct tape and tricks, I probably would’ve had an easy way to escape the trunk.
But would I escape? That was the question, and I didn’t know the answer. I hadn’t run from Cain yet.
The tires hummed loudly through the trunk as the beast carried me off to his lair.
* * *
When the trunk popped open, I was prepared to come out swinging.
But it had been opened remotely. I was alone in a big garage.
My phone chimed with a text message.Look in the backseat. Time to dress the part.
I tucked the phone into the back pocket of my jeans and swung open the door, hoping for weaponry. But no, just as I’d expected, it was just a black shopping bag.
I opened black-and-silver tissue paper to find a pair of black heels, a scarlet corset top with black laces, and a black mini skirt. True to Cain’s usual style, apparently I didn’t need underwear.
I rolled my eyes. Cain was so weird. If he needed my help, he could have just laid out the mission; if he wanted to see me in an outfit, he could just use his words. Seeing me like this would turn him on, and I loved having that power over the man who scared the Sphinx, the campus, the chunk of the world who knew Cain’s vicious edge. I wasn’t afraid to wield my power, even if I did that from my knees in a skimpy top, now and then.
The garage seemed drafty, so I crawled into the backseat of the car, and checked to see if there were keys. No luck. Then I gave in to my current fate and changed into the slutty outfit.
My cell phone rang.
“You’re watching me, creep.”
“Always.”
A prickle of unease ran through my body, reminding me of that camera pointed at my bed. I’d dropped the wastebasket in front of it recently so I could have some privacy while I plotted.
I hoped it was Cain watching me, as sick as that was.
