Chapter 3

Felice didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to look weak and pathetic but she couldn’t help herself. She was so frustrated and frightened, and her partner in captivity wasn’t helping matters at all. Of all the people she could have been stuck with, she had to get stuck with a guy with a terminal case of assholitis.

On the plus side, he seemed like he could take care of himself. He was built like a locomotive, iron strong and big and intimidating. From what he told her, he was used to handling himself in rough situations. However, if she was in this mess because of him—if this was truly random on her part—well, she was going to be mighty pissed, and all the strength in the world wouldn’t save him from her wrath.

Or at least that’s what she wanted to think. She knew she was no match for him. But maybe if she wasn’t a match for him then their captors wouldn’t be either.

“Have you faced off with our kidnappers yet?” she asked him with a sniffle.

“No, damn it, they knocked me out. That’s how you got in here. That’s how they were able to bring all this food in.”

She watched him run a hand through his hair in frustration. He kept his soot black hair long, and braided down his back. Or maybe “raven’s wing” was a better descriptor because it was so glossy and shiny. He wasn’t what she would call classically handsome, but he definitely had a rugged appeal. Felice could easily imagine women throwing themselves at him. He had muscular definition all along his body that was the stuff of women’s dreams. The other thing she noticed was the size of his…hands. They were very large. Intimidatingly so. And what they said about a man’s hands definitely translated to other parts of his anatomy. That was intimidating too. She hoped all the women who threw themselves at him knew what they were getting into.

Then again, if a woman was willing to put up with such an asshole, then maybe she got what she deserved.

She knew he was her ticket out of this mess, however. There was no way she could launch an escape by herself. First of all, she was naked. Where could she go naked? It was bad enough her jiggly bits were on display for him, she didn’t want to run out in the world showing her jiggly bits to everyone else.

That was a stupid thing to worry about, she told herself sternly. What did it matter if she was naked? Getting out was the most important thing. Hell, she should be willing to show herself to the entire world if it meant regaining her freedom.

“Do you have a plan to get us out of here?” she asked him. “I mean, you seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Any plans I have require them coming in here without knocking me out first. And I’m not about to discuss my plans where they can hear me,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, excuse me,” she said snappishly. “Excuse me for wanting to be of some help.”

“The best help you can be is to get out of the way when the time comes. I can’t be saddled with worrying about you if an opportunity presents itself.”

She grumbled under her breath about arrogant assholes and he heard her.

“Look. You want me to be nice to you or do you want someone who can be a pain in the ass to whoever has us? Frankly, I’d want the pain in the ass. The more grief I can give them, the better it will be for us.” He hesitated. “I don’t know how to be all sensitive and touchy-feely. So I’m probably going to rub you the wrong way. Hell, I get paid to rub people the wrong way. It’s what I live for.”

“It must make for a very lonely life,” she said, feeling honest sympathy for him. “Pushing people away can only leave you standing there alone.”

“So what? I’m the only one I can depend on. Don’t need anyone else.”

“That’s very sad,” she said. “I suddenly feel very sorry for you.”

“I don’t need your sympathy. I like my life just fine,” he snapped. “I have work when I need it and company when I need it. I eat when I’m hungry and sleep when I’m tired. I don’t want much more than that.”

“What about connection? Love? Emotion?”

“I don’t need it. It weighs you down. It’s all drama, stuff we make up so we’ll feel better about our lives. I feel just fine about my life the way it is. I don’t need to imagine connections and feelings to make it better.”

“Now I really feel sorry for you,” she said softly.

“Why? Look what it’s gotten you,” he railed at her. “An ex that stalks you. He thinks he loves you. You thought you loved him.”

“For a second,” she said sharply. “I think part of me knew something was off and I just didn’t listen to my instincts. I’m not perfect, you know. Back then I thought I needed someone to make me feel whole.”

“Apparently you still do. Otherwise why preach to me about needing ‘emotion’ and ‘connection.’ ” He air-quoted the words snidely.

“Just because I had one unhealthy relationship doesn’t mean they will all be that way,” she said.

“All relationships are unhealthy. I cut out all that crap and have a fine life.”

“You have a lonely life,” she said stubbornly. “I have my mom and the memory of my sister who loved me.”

That made him stop his pacing. “She’s dead? What happened? You’re awfully young to have lost a sibling.”

“What do you care? Isn’t asking me something like that dangerous? You might get all emotional.”

He frowned and she wondered if he ever smiled. He didn’t seem the type.

“Excuse me for asking,” he said sharply. “Just forget it.”

“She died in a skiing accident,” she said instead, pushing for some kind of emotional reaction from him. “She ran into a tree.”

“Never understood skiing. I guess some people like the rush of it. But there are better ways to get thrills.”

“You seem like the thrill-seeking type,” she countered. “Your entire profession is about seeking thrills, isn’t it?”

She could tell she had made her point by the way he frowned and ran a hand over his hair. He did that when he was frustrated; when the world didn’t make logical, easy sense to him. When the world didn’t fit into his narrow mold.

“I guess it is. I don’t know.”

He did know. She could see it in his face. What he did he did for the thrill of the chase and the payoff at the end. She wondered how someone got into bounty hunting exactly. It must take a special sort of person to spend his life dogging the steps of others. But it also took a certain amount of sympathy—or was it empathy?

“I wonder that you’re any good at your job,” she said aloud.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, bristling.

“Hunting someone means empathizing with them. Thinking like them. Figuring out what drives them and what they’ll do next. It’s a wonder someone who doesn’t feel anything in his own life is able to do that. Then again, someone was able to hunt you, weren’t they? You made it easy for them. You did what you always do, allowing them the opportunity to think like you, to figure out what you’d do next. The hunter became the hunted.”

Again that hand went over his hair, but she could see his face darken with anger. She’d struck a nerve.

“Fuck you, lady. What do you know about me anyway?”

“I know you’re trapped in the same situation I am. That means you’re no better than I am. No worse either. We’re in a sucky situation because we fell prey to the desires of someone else. We just need to figure out what those desires are. Even if we do escape…who’s to say we won’t get caught again? We need to figure this out, otherwise we’ll be looking over our shoulders forever.”

“I already know that. And believe me, once I get out of this mess there’ll be no way I’ll fall for it again. You only have to point out my flaws once. I learn my lessons quickly.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means every time I point out a flaw I get a ‘Fuck you lady’ out of you. That means you’re so inured into what you think and what you want that you aren’t willing to accept the perspective of someone else. You don’t want to look at your own flaws.”

“What about your flaws? Your sucky judgment in men?”

“I learned that lesson. I adapted and changed.”

“And I’ll adapt and change after this, believe you me.”

“Maybe,” she said with a one-shoulder shrug.

“Just you wait and see,” he said darkly.

“What do you care about what I think of you? What do you want to prove to me when we’ll probably never see each other again after this?”

“See? This is what I mean. All this psychoanalysis and emotional babble…it’s just a lot of noise. You’re making me deaf, sister.”

She smiled at that, knowing she was getting under his skin, rocking the foundations of his world. She was right and he was wrong. He was just too stubborn to admit it or see it.

“No one said you had to listen to me,” she said.

“If you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of trapped here with you with nothing else to do.”

“Oh, I noticed. I notice a lot of things,” she said smartly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing. Just more of that emotional psychobabble.”

“What are you, a therapist? I thought you ran an antiques store. Why are you so interested in what makes me tick? Better be careful. That ticking could mean you’re sitting next to a bomb.”

“You don’t scare me,” she said.

“Then you’re stupider than I thought.”

“Stop calling me stupid,” she said.

“Why? Sensitive?” he asked meanly.

“No. I just know I’m not stupid and I’m tired of hearing it from you. Just like you’re tired of me seeing things in you that you don’t want me to see.”

“Maybe I’m just seeing things in you that you don’t want to see,” he countered.

“You mean that I’m stupid? I have made my share of stupid mistakes, but that doesn’t make me an idiot. What would make me an idiot would be if I closed myself off to the lessons my life has to teach me.”

“I suppose you mean that’s what I do?”

“If the shoe fits,” she said with a shrug.

“I’ll bet my shoe fits up your ass.”

“You don’t have any shoes at present, so I’m not impressed.”

“Damn, sister, you just don’t know when to stop poking the bear, do you? Maybe that’s how you got in this mess. Maybe someone got sick of you nosing around in their business.”

“You make like you don’t care, but I think you do,” she said. “I heard you.”

“You heard me what?”

“I heard you threaten them when they were hurting me. That isn’t the act of someone who doesn’t care.”

“Don’t go attaching all kinds of noble intentions to me. I just wanted a piece of them is all. For me. Not for you.”

She didn’t believe him and she shot him a smug look that told him so.

“Well, I think if it came down to it you would give a damn about me,” she said.

“Of course I would!” he snapped irritably. “I’m at least halfway decent. I wouldn’t just let them have you if I could help it. I’m going to get out of this mess, and I’m going to take you with me when I do. There? Satisfied? Does that make me Mother Teresa now?”

“Close,” she said with a chuckle.

He huffed out a breathy sound and she realized it was a chuckle when he said, “Damn, you’re frustrating. I wonder that your ex wants anything to do with you. Or that he hasn’t gotten the message that you don’t want anything to do with him. You’re tenacious. You don’t seem like you put up with much B.S.”

“I didn’t always used to be this way. I put up with a lot of B.S. in the past. Then I got sick of being walked all over all the time. I made a lot of changes in my life after the first few months of being stalked by that sicko. Most of which entailed me being my own private detective—or my own cop or whatever. I had to gather proof and evidence against him. In three weeks he’s facing stalking charges and I don’t think his pricey lawyer is going to be able to get him out of it this time. After two previous slaps on the wrist, he’s a habitual offender now. He’s also pretty dumb. You’d think he’d learn not to send things in writing, like texts and emails. I also have video of him tailing me everywhere I go. I had to be clever about getting that one. I had a friend follow behind with a video camera. She recorded him following me. Watching me.”

“You stalked the stalker.”

“Yeah, you could say that. That could potentially bite me in the ass, but I wasn’t doing the actual stalking and I’m not about to give up my friend’s name. So…we’ll see what happens in court.”

“I have to say,” he said, crossing over to her and taking a seat in the other recliner beside her, “I’m pretty impressed. With all the tears earlier I would have pegged you as being a bit of a wuss.”

“Hey, I think under the circumstances I’m allowed a few tears. I cry when I’m angry and frustrated or when I’m hurt or scared. It’s always been one of those things that I hate about myself but I’ve never been able to change it for some reason. Don’t let the tears fool you. If you underestimate me because of them, you’ll be making a mistake.”

He grinned at that and she noticed it immediately because it drastically changed his face. It made him look mischievous and even handsome.

“Thatta girl,” he said with a chuckle. “There’s hope for you yet.”

“I could say the same about you,” she returned. “Who knew you could smile and be charming?”

“Hey, I’m a master of charm when I want to be. Question is, when do I want to be? I have my moments.”

“When you’re trying to get into someone’s pants?” she countered knowingly.

“Possibly,” he said, his grin completely unrepentant. “Definitely.”

“Well, I give you points for being honest about it. However, I don’t imagine you have much success with women like me.”

“I don’t have to charm the pants off you, you’re already naked,” he said, leering at her.

She flushed and tucked her knees up even tighter to her chest, making certain she remained as hidden as possible. It was very hard to make someone take her seriously when she was so self-conscious about her nudity.

“What I mean is, a self-aware woman will see right through you.”

“I have nothing to hide. In fact, I’m very up-front and blunt about what my intentions are. Straight-up sex, no commitments, no touchy-feely crap or high expectations. This way they know the deal and can make an informed decision. If they’re on board, great. Fun to be had by all. If not…well, sayonara and sorry to see you go. Just gotta stay clear of the troublesome ones and all goes well.”

“Troublesome ones? You mean like women with feelings and self-respect?”

“No, I mean like stalkers like your ex,” he lobbed back at her.

“People like my ex are the rare ones.”

“One is one too many.”

“True,” she said with a sigh. “And no doubt with the rate you go through women you are more likely to come across one. Odds being what they are. But even being up-front doesn’t protect you from the crazies. I thought my ex was very normal. He covered the crazy quite well until we were deep in the relationship and he started acting possessive and jealous. You just never know.”

“I guess that’s true. Maybe I’m a little too intimidating for the crazies to fixate on me. I don’t know. But I’ve never had a problem.”

She dropped her legs, leaning forward toward him, her arms still across her breasts. “But don’t you feel like you’re missing something? Even a little bit? Something you can only get if you stick around for a little while? Something you can only get from being with that special person who just gets you. Understands you. Accepts everything about you?”

He snorted out a laugh. “That kind of woman doesn’t exist. Women are always trying to change you. To fit you into their mold of what makes a decent man. I like my mold just fine thanks.”

“There has to be someone out there who can accept you at face value. I’m a face-value type of person. Either I accept people just as they are or I move on. Another lesson I learned from my ex. You can’t waste time hoping that your significant other is going to change one day. I kept thinking if I did enough I could make him happy, keep him from acting jealous. It was a hard lesson learning that nothing I could do would ever satisfy him.”

Halo frowned. “What happened?”

She sat back again, drawing her legs up once more and hugging them tightly. Felice didn’t like talking about the past too much. She wanted to live in the present. However, to make her point she made the exception.

“He started popping in at all kinds of crazy hours, no doubt to see if he could catch me cheating on him. One afternoon at my job—this was before I had the shop—I was chatting with one of my coworkers…you know, water cooler type stuff. Nothing remotely flirtatious.”

“You don’t have to quantify it. I can tell you aren’t the type to toss your hair and flirt with just any guy that walks by.”

“Thank you for that,” she said.

“After all, you haven’t flirted with me once and we’re all naked and stuff.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who says I would want to flirt with an ass like you?”

“ ’Cuz I’m a charming ass. A damn good-looking one, if I do say so myself. I’m hot and sexy. You can just look at me and know I’ll get the job done right.”

Felice flushed warmly all over at his blunt assessment of himself. Mostly because she discovered she agreed with him. Except the charming part—up until that moment. He turned on a wickedly compelling grin, full of mischief and fun and it made her want to…well, she didn’t want to face what it made her desire so she pushed it all aside and focused instead on her exasperation with him. He was incorrigible and she told him so.

“Hmm, I’ve never had someone use a million-dollar word like ‘incorrigible’ on me before. I like it.”

Felice smacked a hand over her face and shook her head. “Anyway,” she said, “I was talking to this guy and in walks Michael and he sees me chatting with this guy and whips into a rage that attracts the entire office. He accuses me of cheating on him then he walks up, grabs me, and in front of everybody, with no regard for the consequences, he punches me in the face. I go flying back and hit my head, splitting open my scalp. I needed fourteen stitches. Of course, the entire office reacted. They pulled him off me before he could do any real damage beyond that.”

“I think I’d call that real damage. Damage enough,” he said, his eyes suddenly stormy and a tic developing in his jaw. “If I’d been there the guy would have been nothing but a puddle of bones and blood.”

She believed him.