Goddamn, this woman is difficult. And now she can’t wait to get away from me. Not that I blame her. From her perspective, I’m probably only a hair’s breadth better than the scum she’s escaped.

She joins me in the kitchenette, making a salad while I throw together a pizza. We play musical questions that she takes great pains to avoid answering. I’m just about to drill down on what happened with her mother when the alarm light flashes on one of the monitors. I quickly move closer to the bank of monitors lining the wall and watch the offending screen. Rayne comes up beside me. One of Viper’s men searches Rayne’s room. Shit. He finds her pile of rags in the corner of the dressing room. Double shit.

Rayne laughs and prances, turning a tight circle.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Happy dancing. What does it look like?”

“Viper’s goons just found proof positive that you’re here. Your mortal danger quotient just increased tenfold, and you’re happy?”

“Oh don’t be such a grouch. They knew I was here anyway. And I’m always happy when I’m right.”

“About what?”

“You bugged my room. I knew it.” She pumps her small fists in the air.

“I put security cameras all over my house as a precaution against times like this.”

“What do your bimbos think when they find out you’re watching their every move?”

I want to object to her categorizing the women I’ve known in the biblical sense as bimbos—except she’s right. Most were . . .

“I don’t bring women here, so I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea.” I turn my attention back to the monitors. A second man joins the first in the guest room and looks over Rayne’s torn clothes.

“That’s Rambo. Now, they’re going to call Viper,” Rayne says.

The larger man pulls out a cell phone and punches it on.

I zoom in on the screen until the numbers show clear as day. Rayne grabs a pen and paper. She writes the numbers as I call them aloud. For the second time, she impresses me with her insight.

“They were here.” Rambo listens for a beat. “No idea how they got by us.” More listening as he moves the phone away from his ear. I turn up the volume and hear a male voice scream, “Put me on speaker.” Rambo punches a button and holds the phone out.

“You fucking idiots. You had them right under your nose, and you lost them? I can’t fucking believe it.” A decidedly angry and very loud voice issues out of the small cell.

“It’s not our fault, Vipe man. This guy’s got some serious surveillance equipment here.”

“Don’t Vipe man me. The name’s Viper. Misuse it again, and you’ll lose your tongue. Find them. She’ll surface at some point. The tracker just picked her up on her way to Toronto. The other two have gone after her. Get moving. We’ll troll the Net for her.”

“Toronto? Shit. We’ll never find her there.”

“I’ve plastered her face all over the Net. Offered fifty K. She can run, but she can’t hide.”

“We’ll get them, dead or alive.”

“I want them both, unharmed. Not even a hair. I want them nice and ready for the shitload of hurt I have planned for them. I’ll flay the skin off Rayne while that bastard Blade watches. Or maybe I’ll take turns letting them both watch.”

“Leave some fun for us, boss,” the man says.

“Oh, you’ll have plenty of fun. Don’t you worry. When you catch that bastard Blade, tell him I’ve got his little trans dyke. Tell him I’ll trade the dyke for the little bitch. Then bring them both to me.”

The cell screen goes dead. The men pick up Rayne’s rags and head out the door.

Handing me the pad, Rayne sits at the small table in the kitchen area and puts her head in her hands. I come up behind her, unsure of what to do next. She looks so small and forlorn. I reach out to touch her, then pull my hand back from the hot flame when I realize what I’m doing. My body clearly disconnected from my brain for a moment. I cross my arms over my chest to keep them from misbehaving. I have no fucking idea what to say to her.

“You okay?” Brilliant, Jaden.

She rubs her temples but otherwise doesn’t move. “Who’s the trans dyke?”

“All in good time.”

She shoots me a look of pure disdain before resuming her head massage. “But it’s someone you care about, right?”

I hesitate a beat. Just what should I tell her? “Yes, I care for her very much.”

Rayne slowly nods her head. “Thank you.” In a blink, she’s up and throwing her arms around me. “She’ll be okay. He won’t hurt her as long as she obeys, but he will play with her. He wants me.” She shudders and lets go. She stands there as if she has no idea what to do next. She sits back down.

She’s scared to death. There’s no getting away from the hurt Viper wants to put on her. Or me, for that matter. I’d like nothing better than to go one-on-one with the cocksucker. Even better, I’ll make him take a turn in the ring with Sasha. She deserves to take him down. I hope like hell they aren’t hurting her too badly while he “plays” with her. She is still healing from her latest surgery.

I sit beside Rayne and place my hands palm down on the table, close to her arm. Close enough I can feel her heat. Close enough that the mild floral scent mixed with her faint essence almost sends my cock into convulsions. A scent so distinctively hers it has already woven its way around and through every one of my sensory receptors. A fragrance I will not respond to. Too late. This woman is claiming the hidden recesses of my soul. I clear my throat.

“You okay?”

She clasps her hands on the table, very close to mine, and those deep brown eyes lock on mine. “Yes. Sorry. I had a pity party for a minute. Now, back to work.” She starts to get up. I cover her hands with mine.

“Just a minute. Let’s talk about this. We’ve—”

She jerks her hands from under mine. “There’s nothing to talk about, and every minute we’re talking, we could be finding Viper’s lair. Let’s run that phone number.” She bolts toward the computers.

I follow at a slower pace. She isn’t going to talk, and I ’m not inclined to force her. I can cope with the cold shoulder. Silence and I are old friends.

I navigate through the series of online gates needed to access my hacker forum. Time to solicit help from Joker and Treadmill.

We work in silence through the afternoon. I check on the other traces. Nothing. I try not to worry about Sasha, but that’s easier said than done. I hide it well, or at least I try. Ever since I lost Savannah, I haven’t gotten involved with anyone that holds even a glimmer of emotional attachment. Thoughts of what Viper might be doing to Sasha keep skipping through my head. I resist the urge to punch something.

I keep an eye on Rayne with my peripheral vision. She seems completely unaware of anything but the monitors in front of her, oblivious of the keys as her fingers fly over them. The only sound she makes is the occasional curse word. Around nine o’clock, she stretches and sighs.

“I’m starving. How about I see if I can salvage any of our pizza?” She talks as if the visit from Viper’s goons hadn’t happened.

“Okay.” I draw the word out, unsure of what else to say. I follow her slowly across the empty space that separates the monitoring station from the living area. She pulls the food we threw together earlier from the fridge. Takes the tongs and tosses the salad.

“Looks okay. Now, all we need is dressing.” She examines the contents of the fridge and comes out with a bottle of Catalina dressing. Nose wrinkling, she waves the bottle in the air. “Is this all you’ve got?”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Yes, that’s what I like.”

“Well, I don’t.” She starts opening cupboards and putting various bowls, utensils, a glass jar and food items on the butcher’s block. “Oh good, you’ve got premium EVOO. Do you cook?”

“Not really. Steve makes sure the kitchen is well stocked for times like these.”

“Is it true that you’ve never brought other women here?”

“Yes.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“How the fuck would I know? And you haven’t answered my question.”

Fiesty. “I told you I’d never lie to you. I gave you my word.”

“Pinky swear?” She holds up a crooked pinky finger.

Really? This time, I don’t hide the grin. “Pinky swear.” My large digit almost swallows hers as I lock my pinky with hers.

She nods and throws a small smile my way as she pours oil and vinegar in the glass jar. She throws in some garlic and spices, snaps on the lid and shakes the jar.

“How long ago did Sasha become a woman?”

I open my mouth to answer and close it just as quickly. Not bad, Rayne. Thought you’d slip that in so I wouldn’t notice, eh? I chuckle under my breath. It’s my turn to ask questions. I step into her private space. She’s generating heat like a furnace. She stiffens but keeps on shaking that damned salad dressing.

“Do you always ask questions that are none of your business?” I say.

“I don’t usually have conversations with people.”

What a fucking odd thing to say. “Who did you talk to, if not people?”

She gives me a sly little grin. “Cats, mostly. I’m a big cat lover. And Summer, of course, before they took us.”

“There must have been others you talked to. What about the girls in the dressing room at the warehouse?”

“Those fucking hunties were a waste of time.” Scathing is the only word that fits the tone accompanying those words.

Hunty? “What did you call them?”

She turns that piercing gaze on me. Through me. Something about how she looks at me makes me feel stripped as if she can see past the mask I wear for the world. No one but Sasha has seen past the mask since I perfected it, not even my mother. God rest her soul.

“Hunty. Jesus, don’t you ever watch TV? It’s from RuPaul. You know, they’re cunts and honeys.”

There’s a lot about her world that I don’t know. I plan to put a stop to that this very minute. If we’re going to be stuck together for a while, she can bloody well be a little more forthcoming about who she is.

“So, what happened to your mother?”

She stops shaking the bottle of dressing and stares hard at me, jaw rigid. “She shot my father when I was eleven.”