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“So, he was an innocent bystander, in the wrong place at the wrong time, like me?” she quips.
“No.” I gaff at the idea of disgusting Clive being innocent. The crop circle-like image, representing the gang from Glasgow, pops up in my mind’s eye, the one Crank first spotted on the screen of Clive’s computers when he was putting new tires on Clive’s old Jeep. Clive was involved with those men. And we knew what they were planning. “He had to be stopped.”
“Busy man.” She doesn’t even flinch as she puts the pasta in to boil. “So, you took matters into your own hands, instead of letting the law deal with it?”
She’s trying to shame me. I don’t hide the pride from my voice. “Aye. That’s how the Baynes have done for centuries.”
She disagrees. “Hmm.”
Ignoring her obviously loaded, feminine, hmm, I don’t take the bait, happy to have a moment of quiet while she finishes cooking dinner.
When she’s done, she plates it up, handing me a dish. She stands at the counter across from me, her own plate, half as full as mine, resting on the counter in front of her.
Her expectant gaze rests on my face, waiting for me to take my first bite. I slide a forkful of the creamy pasta into my mouth. Holding back a moan, I savor the garlicky flavor.
She pokes a penne pasta with the tines of her fork. “I have a proposal for you.” She pops it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully while she waits for me to answer.
“Captives don’t get to make demands,” I shoot back.
Damn. The girl can cook. I shove another generous bite into my mouth, this time getting a piece of the juicy chicken she seared before she made the sauce.
“It’s not a demand. It’s a…” She gazes up at the ceiling, contemplating her next words. She circles her wrist, her fork twirling lightly in the air. “Delicate request.”
She’s piqued my interest enough to give her a nod to continue, my mouth happily too full to speak.
Her dark brown eyes snap up to meet my gaze. “Freedom to roam the house in exchange for home-cooked meals.”
I pause, my newly filled fork resting in the air, halfway up to my mouth. I’m a man, not a stone wall, there’s only so much temptation I can take, and yes, it’s true you can control a man through his stomach. Apparently, I’m not the only one planning on playing games.
And she wants to fight dirty.
Chapter Eleven
Kitt
The guest room is so nice, it’s almost a shame that I won’t be spending a single night in that bed. The white-walled room is spotless, like the rest of his gorgeous house. How can an unruly gang member have such a lovely home?
Pink pillows and a matching blanket brighten up the simple room. Fiona would be in heaven with these pink accessories. Were they the touch of a woman here before me? Someone soft and feminine like Fiona? I try to picture him having a woman here, someone soft-spoken, always offering to “put the kettle on.”
Can’t picture it. But there’s no way he bought those for me. Maybe he has a sister.
My suitcase has been delivered. It sits on a fold-out guest cot made just for unpacking. Which I do, carefully, making it look like my intention is to stay. “Bless those girls.” Fiona and Carol Ann have folded each one of my belongings, carefully settling them into my suitcase.
They even managed to sneak a note. Stay strong, Kitt! You’ll be back at the lodge safe and sound before you know it. They’ve both signed the little white slip of paper, drawing hearts along the bottom.
Knowing my friends know where I’m at and where to send the police to dig up my dead body should it come to that, gives me a sense of peace.
Will I come back safe and sound? I think of his harsh response to my threat to slap him. Is he all talk?
“I’m not so sure I will, girls.” Filled with a sudden, deep desire for the lodge and my friends, I tuck the note carefully into the zippered pocket of the suitcase, grab my makeup bag, and head for the small ensuite bathroom. “But I’m going to try.”
I have to get out tonight. He all but admitted he did kill his girlfriend, not even bothering to deny it when I brought it up to him. I think of the locked front door. His always watchful eyes. The way he laughed when I’d asked for free rein of the house.
The stern look he’s mastered, the commanding tone of his deep voice. His svelte physique, sure to outrun and overpower me. The punishing leather belt he wears around his waist.
I swallow back my nerves, pressing my thighs together, confused by the warmth there.
It’s crazy, trying to plan to get out of here.
