wrong with him ?
Code is the one who robbed a bank, took me hostage, kidnapped me, fucked me, and taped me up, bound and gagged, in the basement of some low-class mall. And he thinks there’s something wrong with me for trying to get away from him?
Boy, is his perspective completely screwed up.
Plus, I can’t even answer his question because there’s tape over my mouth.
Not for long. He reaches down and rips it off, causing a quick flash of pain as the adhesive tears across my skin.
I make a choked sound of pain and outrage, and I wish my hands were free so I could slap the vindictive bastard. “What’s wrong with you ?” I snap, too overwhelmed with indignation to even be afraid anymore. “What normal woman wouldn’t be trying to get away from you just as soon as she could? You’ve kidnapped me! You’re holding me against my will. Of course, I’m going to take any opportunity I have to escape.”
“But you’re just making it harder on yourself. I’m not going to hurt you, if you’d just cooperate.” He looks just as angry as I am—just as much at the end of his rope.
I can only assume that this escape isn’t going at all the way he planned it.
“Why the hell should I trust you? What have you ever done that would make me want to trust you?” I’m practically screaming at him now—not because I’m consciously trying to get the attention of a security guard or someone, but because I’m so outraged I can’t hold it back.
He reaches over and claps a hand on my mouth. “Damn it. Lower your voice.”
His hand slips slightly against my mouth, and I try to bite him.
He lets out a soft roar when my teeth close down on the hell of his hand. He grabs me and jerks me against his body, holding me in a ruthless grip I can’t possible pull free from. “Stop it. Stop it. Right now.” His voice is low, guttural, authoritative, and his arms are like iron.
I struggle in his arm but can’t get away, and when I feel a pulse of arousal between my legs, I stop my frantic squirming.
I definitely don’t need to get distracted by that right now.
“Good girl,” he mutters, when I grow still in his arms. “Relax for a minute, and stop fighting me.”
I stop struggling physically, since it’s obviously a losing battle. He’s like twice as strong as I am and a lot bigger. What happens in my mind is none of his business, though. If I want to keep fighting him there, then I will, and he can’t stop me.
“Now listen to me,” he goes on. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not that kind of a monster. I have no reason to kill you or even hurt you if you’re obeying me.”
“You have no reason to still be holding me hostage.”
He rolls his eyes, clearly impatient with my obstinate comment. “Try to think it through a little. If things had gone as planned at the bank, I would have let you go back there. But all hell broke loose, and I’ve got the cops and Deke and the crew both coming after me. You’re my only advantage.”
“I’m not an advantage.” Even as I say the words, I wonder why I’m bothering. He’s not the kind of guy who’s likely to be convinced by something like common sense or logic. “I’m just going to slow you down. Think about how much faster you’d be able to move without me.”
“And think about how fast the cops will be willing to shoot me if I’m by myself. Deke isn’t going to get slowed down by you, but the cops will. They’re not going to want to risk your life. You’re leverage for me, and I can’t give that up yet.”
Thinking about it that way, I guess it does make some sort of sense—at least the kind of sense that would appeal to a criminal like him.
“Besides,” Code adds, “I wasn’t lying about you maybe being in danger from Deke. He doesn’t like loose ends, and his way of dealing with them is usually to just wipe them off the planet completely. He might think of you as a loose end, and he might not appreciate that you helped me get away
Code is the one who robbed a bank, took me hostage, kidnapped me, fucked me, and taped me up, bound and gagged, in the basement of some low-class mall. And he thinks there’s something wrong with me for trying to get away from him?
Boy, is his perspective completely screwed up.
Plus, I can’t even answer his question because there’s tape over my mouth.
Not for long. He reaches down and rips it off, causing a quick flash of pain as the adhesive tears across my skin.
I make a choked sound of pain and outrage, and I wish my hands were free so I could slap the vindictive bastard. “What’s wrong with you ?” I snap, too overwhelmed with indignation to even be afraid anymore. “What normal woman wouldn’t be trying to get away from you just as soon as she could? You’ve kidnapped me! You’re holding me against my will. Of course, I’m going to take any opportunity I have to escape.”
“But you’re just making it harder on yourself. I’m not going to hurt you, if you’d just cooperate.” He looks just as angry as I am—just as much at the end of his rope.
I can only assume that this escape isn’t going at all the way he planned it.
“Why the hell should I trust you? What have you ever done that would make me want to trust you?” I’m practically screaming at him now—not because I’m consciously trying to get the attention of a security guard or someone, but because I’m so outraged I can’t hold it back.
He reaches over and claps a hand on my mouth. “Damn it. Lower your voice.”
His hand slips slightly against my mouth, and I try to bite him.
He lets out a soft roar when my teeth close down on the hell of his hand. He grabs me and jerks me against his body, holding me in a ruthless grip I can’t possible pull free from. “Stop it. Stop it. Right now.” His voice is low, guttural, authoritative, and his arms are like iron.
I struggle in his arm but can’t get away, and when I feel a pulse of arousal between my legs, I stop my frantic squirming.
I definitely don’t need to get distracted by that right now.
“Good girl,” he mutters, when I grow still in his arms. “Relax for a minute, and stop fighting me.”
I stop struggling physically, since it’s obviously a losing battle. He’s like twice as strong as I am and a lot bigger. What happens in my mind is none of his business, though. If I want to keep fighting him there, then I will, and he can’t stop me.
“Now listen to me,” he goes on. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not that kind of a monster. I have no reason to kill you or even hurt you if you’re obeying me.”
“You have no reason to still be holding me hostage.”
He rolls his eyes, clearly impatient with my obstinate comment. “Try to think it through a little. If things had gone as planned at the bank, I would have let you go back there. But all hell broke loose, and I’ve got the cops and Deke and the crew both coming after me. You’re my only advantage.”
“I’m not an advantage.” Even as I say the words, I wonder why I’m bothering. He’s not the kind of guy who’s likely to be convinced by something like common sense or logic. “I’m just going to slow you down. Think about how much faster you’d be able to move without me.”
“And think about how fast the cops will be willing to shoot me if I’m by myself. Deke isn’t going to get slowed down by you, but the cops will. They’re not going to want to risk your life. You’re leverage for me, and I can’t give that up yet.”
Thinking about it that way, I guess it does make some sort of sense—at least the kind of sense that would appeal to a criminal like him.
“Besides,” Code adds, “I wasn’t lying about you maybe being in danger from Deke. He doesn’t like loose ends, and his way of dealing with them is usually to just wipe them off the planet completely. He might think of you as a loose end, and he might not appreciate that you helped me get away
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