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A patsy.
A victim.
Indy reached out and playfully tried to turn his face towards her, and Ice grabbed her wrist and held tight, twisting just enough to send a message but not enough that she’d cry out in pain.
“I warned you not to fuck with me,” Ice growled under his breath, keeping his voice low enough that the taxi driver—who hopefully did not speak English—wouldn’t hear. “You paw at me again and I will break all your damn fingers.”
Indy glanced at the taxi driver’s reflection. The man quickly looked away. Then she gazed into Ice’s eyes, sending a tremor through his tensed-up body, a throb through his filled-out cock, a shudder through his tightened-up balls.
“All I have to do is scream and it’s game over for you,” Indy said, smiling with exaggerated sweetness. a triumphant glint in her dark eyes. “But surely you must have known that. So why did you shove me into a taxi instead of stealing a car? A Delta guy like you can probably boost any make of car with your eyes closed. Which means that you trust me. YouknowI’m clean. YouknowI’m telling the truth.”
Ice kept his grip tight on her wrist, shook his head coolly even though he was burning up inside from the hot flame of truth in her words. “Can’t boost a car on streets this crowded when you’re a big white guy and highly noticeable. And with traffic this bad, the cops would catch up with me and it would turn into a damn mess. Besides, you scream and this poor taxi driver will freak the hell out, stop the cab, go running for his damn life rather than get involved.” He snorted, his gaze relaxing. “And finally, youwon’tscream because you know that you’re safer with me than out there on your own. Those men were afteryourass, not mine. Just remember that before you make your next move. Instead of wasting your energy trying to convince me to trust you, think about who in the worldyoucan trust right now, O’Donnell.”
Indy blinked twice, swallowed once, her face paling, her shoulders slumping.
Ice let go of Indy’s wrist, turned his face away from her, gazed out the window, just about holding back a smirk.
Nah, she wasn’t going to scream for help. Not here and not at the hotel. She was dead out of options and she damn well knew it. If the CIA just sent a wet team to put her down, no way she could go back to the Embassy or get in touch with Moses or call anyone at Langley.
She was all alone in the world right now.
Which meant Ice was in total control.
He’d broken her without having to snap any of those pretty fingers.
Ice still had it.
He was still a master of the game.
Indy was silent in the seat beside him, her shoulders still slumped. Ice relaxed, decided to enjoy the ride. She was done. Defeated. She’d submitted, just like they all did. He’d get her to the hotel, put her in a room, and she’d start singing like a canary in a coalmine.
But just as Ice pondered whether canary in a coalmine was the appropriate metaphor, his serenity was shattered by a scream.
He whipped his head towards the sound, saw the gleam in Indy’s eyes as she wailed like a cat being throttled, looking right at Ice as she did it, like she was doing it just to prove a point, just to show him that hewasn’tin total control.
The taxi driver slammed on the brakes, his eyes wild with panic. The taxi ground to a halt in the middle of traffic. Immediately horns began to blare, cars began to move around them, bikes and scooters zipped past them, the drivers and riders glaring at the taxi driver as they went past. It was dark outside, the air filled with exhaust fumes, headlamps and streetlights casting beams of hazy multicolored light that added to the confusion.
It was too chaotic for Indy’s screams to register with anyone besides the poor taxi driver, who was shouting words Ice didn’t understand, like the driver wasn’t sure what the hell to do, panicking partly because of the sound and partly because Ice wasn’t even touching the woman who was howling like a tortured mongrel.
Then suddenly Indy stopped screaming. She did it abruptly, going from panic to calm in zero seconds flat, like she was either crazy like a fox or just plain crazy.
“Mazaak hai,” she said to the petrified taxi driver. “It’s just a game we play in America. Like a joke. Carry on.Challo.”
The driver stared in shocked silence, then forced a smile, nodded in earnest relief, and started the engine back up again. Seconds later they were moving, and Indy leaned back in her seat, folded her arms over her slight chest, glanced at Ice with a smug smirk of satisfaction.
“What the hell?” Ice growled, shaking his head, not sure whether to explode with anger or let loose the laughter bubbling up in his chest.
Because clearly this woman was playing her own game. She understood damn well that right now she was better off with Ice than without him. After all, he’d saved her ass back at the safe-house, which meant he might be the only person in her world whodidn’twant her dead—not immediately, at least.
No, she wasn’t going to run. That’s why she hadn’t eventriedto open the door and make a break for it when the cab stopped.
Which meant she’d only screamed because Ice had smugly pointed out that shewouldn’tscream.
She was trying to break Ice’s frame.
Trying to thwart his efforts to establish dominance.
Spitting and snarling before submitting.
