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“Thank you very much, Dr. Death.” I allow my eyes to drift shut while he laughs humorlessly, and we speed down the interstate to a destination unknown to me.
As my thoughts drift, the beginnings of a plan percolate in the back of my mind—use his desire against him until he’s too twisted up to see straight and can’t bear the thought of going through with his murderous plans. It’s everything I’ve avoided doing since I joined the academy—using my body to get ahead—despite what others claim about it being the only path for someone my age to reach my current position.
But now, it’s my only option. Now, I don’t feel quite so powerless.
All I need now is to give my body the memo before the inexplicable heat he stirs to life ends up burning me.
10
LUCA
It’s not very late when we reach the safe house, but the sky is gray enough today to leave darkness surrounding us when I pull up behind the simple, single-story cabin hidden in the deep woods on the outskirts of the Poconos. The air out here is clear and clean. If it weren’t for the clouds hanging low and thick in the sky, there would be plenty of stars to admire.
Not that I have time for that, anyway. “Hey.” I nudge my sleeping companion, who only mumbles before turning her head away. “Wake up. We’re here.” I nudge her again when she doesn’t move and wonder if she’s in the grips of a dream.
“Where are we?” Her voice is thick with sleep, scratchy as she sits bolt upright like she only now remembered everything that came before this.
“We’re someplace safe where nobody from the Vitali crew will find you.”
“You brought me out to the middle of nowhere?” she questions, turning around in all directions as she takes in where we are, her head snapping back and forth.
“Something like that.” In reality, another ten-minute drive, we could visit one of the many resorts dotting the landscape, but she doesn’t need to know that. The less she knows, the better.
For both of us.
What she needs is help getting out of the car. I should let her struggle on her own, but I’m not a completely heartless bastard. She’s been in the car for an hour longer than necessary, thanks to traffic on Route 80, and was already in pain before stiffness settled in, making her more miserable.
Yet when I generously offer to help her out of the car, she flinches away like a skittish animal. “I’m fine,” she mumbles, letting her hair hang in front of her face rather than pushing it back as if that would help her hide from me.
If there’s one thing I never do, it’s begging. “Suit yourself. I’ll meet you inside once you realize there’s no hope of getting away on foot.” Her strangled whimper shouldn’t light me up the way it does, but then nothing about how she affects me makes any sense.
By the time she clearly decides it’s for the best to join me in the cabin, I have already built a fire in the small hearth. It lights and warms the room, making it almost cozy enough that I could forget why I’m here.
I watch as she takes in her surroundings. The open floor plan makes the small but pleasant living room and the kitchen beyond visible. It’s a little rustic, but there’s running water, and once I flip on the lights, she can get a better look. “This is nice,” she quietly offers.
“Don’t feel like you have to flatter me.” I lock the door behind her, then look her up and down. “Now. Do I tie you up, or are you going to behave yourself?”
Her wide eyes dart away from mine, arms crossing over her slim middle. “Don’t tie me up. Please.”
Hmm. Is it this easy to steal her fire and subdue her? I should be glad, but there’s nothing but disappointment at the thought of breaking her so effortlessly.
“Bedroom’s that way,” I continue, pointing to the room in question and watching her squirm. “Bathroom’s beside it.”
“There’s only one bedroom?” Her gaze shifts to where I gestured as she chews on her full lip.
I can’t help but be momentarily distracted by the movement, needing to snap myself out of it. “What about it?”
Rather than explain herself, which she doesn’t need to do anyway, she looks toward the bathroom. “I need to wash up again. I was sort of in a hurry earlier, and I want to scrub off my top layer of skin.” She rubs her arms through her sweater, and now I notice how she leans against the door and only rests the toes of her right foot against the floor.
Let her pretend she’s holding it together, but she’s in pain.
When I block the doorway to the bathroom and its clawfoot tub, she falls back a step and winces after putting weight on her injured leg. “What?” she whispers.
“I’m wondering if I can trust you.” I take my time looking her up and down, arching an eyebrow while dragging out the moment. “You’re not going to pull anything stupid, are you?”
“You know I’m unarmed,” she mutters, staring at my designer shoes rather than looking me in the eye. “And I can barely walk as it is. Am I going to stage a coup?”
“You might try,” I counter, not letting my guard down.
