handcuffs.”
“Boy, you really have a thing for bondage, don’t you?” He sat on the couch. He snapped one cuff on, looped the chain over the links between his wrists, then put on the other cuff. He made sure his jeans were tucked into the cuffs. No use in carving up more skin than he had to. “I can’t wait to find out what else you have in your toy bag there. Whips?”
The hint of a real smile was buried beneath her dry response. “Sorry, I left them at home this trip.”
“Lucky me.” He shifted his back to the armrest and swung his legs up onto the couch, making as much noise as possible. He took his time settling in, then said, “So, you say I’m under your protection. I gotta tell you, youhave a really unique way of protecting people, Detective.” The frown lines carved deeper into her forehead every time he called her that. He planned to call her that often.
“Not everyone realizes they require protecting.” She pulled out a chair and sat facing him.
Less than ten feet separated them now, but the gun resting on her knee kept him pinned to the couch. “Well, I guess I definitely fall into that category. Who are you protecting me from, Detective? And who’s going to protect me from you?”
She stood. “I’m starving.”
“You’ve drugged me, beaten me, and chained me up. Don’t you think I at least deserve to know why I was so lucky to qualify for your generous protection services?”
Turning her back to him, she walked to the small counter in the kitchen where she’d stored her supplies. She kept the gun. There was no way he could move more than an inch without the chains alerting her to the fact. It was basic captive restraint, but simple was often the most effective.
“I like my steak medium rare,” he said.
“I don’t cook.” She pulled a foil-wrapped power bar out of the box on the counter and tossed it at him. It landed on his outstretched thighs, right in front of his fingers.
“Good aim, Detective.”
She smiled. “A wise thing to remember.” A juice pouch followed, landing in exactly the same spot.
Logan shook his head and tore open the foil wrapper. In the past two months his entire being had been exclusively focused on one thing: finding his brother. In hunting him down, he’d discovered that Lucas didn’twant to be found, but he did need to be rescued. His twin had been brainwashed by some lunatic fringe cult, operating up in the mountains somewhere. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could let themselves get so messed up that they could be swayed by these fanatics, but that didn’t matter right now. He’d save Lucas, whether his brother wanted to be saved or not.
He was all Logan had left. He wouldn’t lose Lucas. He couldn’t.
So why was he sitting there, chained up, eating cardboard food and actually enjoying himself? He chewed slowly and watched his captor, who was rooting in her black bag of tricks. He should be going ape, being trapped the way he was. Instead he found he was more than content to watch the good detective. He’d never met a woman like her. He was both captive and captivated.
He shook his head and popped the last bite into his mouth. Maybe he’d finally lost it. Maybe when you lost your mind it didn’t make you crazy with pain, as he’d long suspected—expected. Maybe it just made you crazy. Suddenly it wasn’t so hard to fathom the weak-minded after all.
He raised his eyebrows as she sat back in the chair and unwrapped another candy bar. The look of bliss that briefly crossed her face as she chewed the first bite stirred a hunger of a completely different kind in him. He shifted slightly on the couch. The sound of his chains made her eyes snap back open.
“So, how come you get chocolate and I get fused pasteboard?”
“It’s good for you. Chocolate will rot your teeth.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, Detective, except the questions I most want answers to.”
“Sorry. And stop calling me detective.” She turned
“Boy, you really have a thing for bondage, don’t you?” He sat on the couch. He snapped one cuff on, looped the chain over the links between his wrists, then put on the other cuff. He made sure his jeans were tucked into the cuffs. No use in carving up more skin than he had to. “I can’t wait to find out what else you have in your toy bag there. Whips?”
The hint of a real smile was buried beneath her dry response. “Sorry, I left them at home this trip.”
“Lucky me.” He shifted his back to the armrest and swung his legs up onto the couch, making as much noise as possible. He took his time settling in, then said, “So, you say I’m under your protection. I gotta tell you, youhave a really unique way of protecting people, Detective.” The frown lines carved deeper into her forehead every time he called her that. He planned to call her that often.
“Not everyone realizes they require protecting.” She pulled out a chair and sat facing him.
Less than ten feet separated them now, but the gun resting on her knee kept him pinned to the couch. “Well, I guess I definitely fall into that category. Who are you protecting me from, Detective? And who’s going to protect me from you?”
She stood. “I’m starving.”
“You’ve drugged me, beaten me, and chained me up. Don’t you think I at least deserve to know why I was so lucky to qualify for your generous protection services?”
Turning her back to him, she walked to the small counter in the kitchen where she’d stored her supplies. She kept the gun. There was no way he could move more than an inch without the chains alerting her to the fact. It was basic captive restraint, but simple was often the most effective.
“I like my steak medium rare,” he said.
“I don’t cook.” She pulled a foil-wrapped power bar out of the box on the counter and tossed it at him. It landed on his outstretched thighs, right in front of his fingers.
“Good aim, Detective.”
She smiled. “A wise thing to remember.” A juice pouch followed, landing in exactly the same spot.
Logan shook his head and tore open the foil wrapper. In the past two months his entire being had been exclusively focused on one thing: finding his brother. In hunting him down, he’d discovered that Lucas didn’twant to be found, but he did need to be rescued. His twin had been brainwashed by some lunatic fringe cult, operating up in the mountains somewhere. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could let themselves get so messed up that they could be swayed by these fanatics, but that didn’t matter right now. He’d save Lucas, whether his brother wanted to be saved or not.
He was all Logan had left. He wouldn’t lose Lucas. He couldn’t.
So why was he sitting there, chained up, eating cardboard food and actually enjoying himself? He chewed slowly and watched his captor, who was rooting in her black bag of tricks. He should be going ape, being trapped the way he was. Instead he found he was more than content to watch the good detective. He’d never met a woman like her. He was both captive and captivated.
He shook his head and popped the last bite into his mouth. Maybe he’d finally lost it. Maybe when you lost your mind it didn’t make you crazy with pain, as he’d long suspected—expected. Maybe it just made you crazy. Suddenly it wasn’t so hard to fathom the weak-minded after all.
He raised his eyebrows as she sat back in the chair and unwrapped another candy bar. The look of bliss that briefly crossed her face as she chewed the first bite stirred a hunger of a completely different kind in him. He shifted slightly on the couch. The sound of his chains made her eyes snap back open.
“So, how come you get chocolate and I get fused pasteboard?”
“It’s good for you. Chocolate will rot your teeth.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, Detective, except the questions I most want answers to.”
“Sorry. And stop calling me detective.” She turned
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