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My eyes went to the giant patch on his back.
A skull in a motorcycle helmet stared back. Gavels formed crossbones behind it, which made sense when I read the words that surrounded it.
Court of Mayhem.
Committing that to memory, I looked around the small foyer, but there wasn’t much to see. A wide set of double doors were opposite the entrance and a hallway was at the side.
Hitting numbers in the sophisticated alarm panel, he said, “Bathroom’s down the hall to the right.” The thing gave a beep before he punched in more numbers I couldn’t see, making it triple beep. “Lift the window even a crack, it’ll set off an alarm so loud, the neighbors forty miles over will hear.”
“Got it,” I mumbled, speed walking away.
After using a surprisingly spotless—though barren—bathroom, I washed my hands and eyed the window.
Doesn’t hurt to try.
I unlatched the lock and didn’t even get it open far enough to smell freedom or feel a breeze when the alarm blared, making me yelp and drop it to slam closed while I covered my ears.
I jumped and yelped again when large hands spanned my waist and I was up, tossed over a shoulder like a sack of flour.
He carried me back to the door and disarmed the alarm before dropping me. I’d expected to see fury on his face, but his lips were quirked, making the skin near his eyes crinkle.
“Told you,” he said.
“It didn’t hurt to try in case you were lying.”
“I don’t lie.”
“Ever?” I asked, fighting an eye roll at his B.S.
“You ask me if your ass looks fat in a dress, I’ll tell you no even if it looks like you’ve got the Goodyear Blimp back there.” He leaned to the side, his eyes dropping to check out my butt. “But, princess, I’m speakin’ the whole truth when I say I see nothin’ but perfection.” I shifted my butt out of view, but he didn’t look fazed as he smiled and continued. “Shit like that—white lies—that’s one thing. But big ones? What’s the fuckin’ point? They’re messy and help no one.”
Putting my hands on my hips, I called his bluff. “Why am I here?”
“‘Cause you’re in danger or you are the danger.”
I wasn’t sure if I called the bluff or not because I didn’t know what the hell that meant. Which was why I asked, “What the hell does that mean?”
“We’ll talk later.”
“A vague answer is a half-truth.”
He smirked. “Still not a lie.”
I found myself fighting a smile and wanted to kick my own ass. Psycho wasn’t a charming guy I’d had a meet-cute with in front of the cupcake mixes.
He was a kidnapper, at best.
And at worst?
The thought hit me like a bucket of ice water, reminding me how dire my situation could be.
Fear skittered down my spine, making my voice shake when I asked, “Are you going to… touch me?”
His head jerked back, and his lip curled in disgust. “Never had to force a woman, not gonna start now. When I touch you,” he bit out, “it’ll be ‘cause you beg me to.” Turning suddenly, he walked away, clearly assuming I’d follow. My growling stomach and I were tempted when he said, “Let’s get some food into you.”
But not tempted enough.
Moving fast, I threw open the door, ignoring the deafening blare of the alarm. I booked it, jumping over the stairs and landing in a full run. Like my life depended on it—because for all I knew, it did—I ran.
