AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m not lying! What can I do? How can I prove that I’m not the woman you’re looking for?”
“Nothing,” I tell her truthfully. It’s clear I can’t be objective about this woman. She has some sort of hold on me, just like she probably had on Mario. I have to take her back to him, no matter what. He’ll sort it out. “Mario didn’t tell me anything about the target. Just to wait for a call from a contact. The contact called and gave me this address. You’re the only one here, so...” I shrug, noting the irritation in her eyes at my response.
“You’re impossible,” she mutters. The little spitfire angrily rips open the granola bar, shoving half of it into her mouth and chewing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so spiteful while eating, but I can feel her growing annoyance with each forceful crunch. It’s kind of adorable, though I dismiss that thought as soon as it pops up.
“Why don’t you send your boss my picture, then? One look and he’ll know I’m not his mistress and then you can let me go.”
She sounds so sure, so confident, that for a second, I start to believe her. Maybe I do have the wrong girl.
“Mario told me to lay low until he calls with an update. That means I can’t call or text anyone. You’ll just have to wait until we can head to New York.” I stand up before she has a chance to respond, grabbing her elbow and leading her over to the bathroom. “You’ve got five minutes. Then the ties go back on,” I tell her, pulling a new pair of zip ties out of my back pocket.
She rips her arm out of my grasp, throwing a frustrated glare over her shoulder as she hops into the bathroom. I bite back a groan at the feisty spark in her eyes, then nearly laugh when she slams the door shut. Yeah, this woman is going to be trouble.
FOUR
Keyera
It’s barelypast seven in the evening, but I’m exhausted. Strange, since I slept half the day and spent the other half barely moving, seeing as I was tied to my bed. I was allowed to get up twice to go to the bathroom and restock on granola bars and bananas. Apparently, being kidnapped really takes it out of you. Or maybe it’s the boredom.
Don’t get me wrong, I prefer boredom to murder, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’ve tried starting conversations a few times with the man currently stationed in the chair in the corner of my room, but he’s not much of a talker.
The chair creaks under his massive, muscular frame, making me frown.
“Careful, I got that at a thrift shop. It’s an antique,” I inform him, just to see if I can get a reaction.
He simply grunts before adjusting himself once more. His lips are drawn in a straight line, except for the slight twitch on the right corner of his mouth. Oh God, is he smirking? That’s a good sign, right? If I’m amusing, maybe I can convince him he’s got the wrong girl.
“Yup, I shop at thrift stores and get most of my clothes off the clearance rack. Not what you’d expect from someone sleeping with a wealthy, powerful man such as Mario.”
This gets his attention. Those gray eyes snap to mine as one eyebrow lifts, giving me an almost devious look, like he caught me in a lie. “I thought you didn’t know Mario. How do you know he’s rich and powerful?”
Sweet Jesus, that voice. Raspy yet somehow smooth, like honey over gravel. It is absolutely not the time to get turned on, but tell that to my lady parts.
“I assume anyone who can hire a hitman has money and connections,” I retort, lifting my chin up as I try to hold back my own smirk.
I thought I’d get him to grunt or roll his eyes, but instead, his shoulders drop and his mouth turns down in a frown. “I’m not a hitman,” he says forcefully.
“My bad. A professional kidnapper with zip ties and a syringe full of who knows what that may knock me out or possibly kill me with an overdose,” I say sarcastically.
“I’m not going to kill you,” he replies, his voice much softer.
I’m not sure what to make of his tone or the way he’s looking at me right now. Those gray eyes are trained right on mine, peering down into the depths of me. It’s unnerving, but I can’t look away. He holds my gaze for a second longer, then breaks eye contact.
I let out a breath that was trapped in my lungs, then ask, “What’s your name?” It’s about the tenth time I’ve asked him, and to my absolute shock, he answers.
“Locke.”
“Yeah, that checks out,” I laugh to myself.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that it fits. You’ve got me all locked up.” I try going for a joke, hoping maybe it humanizes me a bit. Locke said he’s not going to kill me, but can I really trust the man who has kept me tied to my bed all day?
The man makes some sort of choked out half laugh, half grunt and runs a hand over his face. He can’t hide the spark in his eyes, though, the one that says he enjoyed my little joke. He doesn’t seem like someone who laughs or smiles easily, and for some reason, I like knowing I made him do it. While I have him in this state, I try again to convince him of my innocence.
“Have I told you about how I graduated from Boulder Community College with a shiny new degree? My name is right on the diploma — Keyera Barclave. Pretty rock-solid proof I’m not who you’re looking for, right?”
“Diplomas can be forged,” he says dryly. All humor has drained completely out of the room and we’re right back to where we started. Dammit.
