Her head jerks back as if the very sound of my voice is offensive to her. I can’t even find it in me to be insulted. She should be screaming and threatening us with the cops, prison, the FBI, and her family’s money.
Her teeth leave little marks in her lower lip as she releases it from their grip. Her throat works as she swallows, and I can’t help but wonder why I’m hyperaware of her every fucking movement.
Probably because I’ll be thinking about her every goddamned day as I lie in my prison bunk, wishing for freedom and the life I promised myself we’d have. A big life. The life that ...
I shut down that line of thought as Scarlett Priest opens her mouth to speak.
“I didn’t hear anything else. Just the Proclaimers singing about walking five thousand miles.”
Now that she’s said something, I can hear the faint cadence of the song “500 Miles”coming from the white earbuds on the marble floor.
I make a split-second decision, the kind that has saved mine and Bump’s lives more than once. I only have two ways to play this, and since both involve prison time if they go wrong, I may as well try to get something out of it.
“Are you as good as they say you are?” I ask her as I reach toward my desk and grab the copy ofNYC Magazine, the one that started this nightmare, and hold it out to her.
Her chin dips, and she stills when she sees the glossy photo of herself on the cover. It’s been photoshopped, but the real Scarlett is even better, in my opinion. Not that my opinion matters right now.
After a beat, her gray eyes lift to connect with mine once more.
“I’m better.” Her voice comes out in a ragged whisper, but there’s a thread of steely confidence running through it. She licks her rosy lips and adds, “Especially if it keeps me alive.”
The princess from the ivory tower can think on her feet. Good to know.
“Do you know where you are or who I am?”
She breaks eye contact to look around my office, snapping her gaze back to mine when she catches sight of Bump off to her left.
“No and no. Also, for the record, I’m capable of forgetting anything you need me to forget right now. I might as well have a degree in discretion.”
Her self-preservation instincts outweigh her fear. I can work with that.
“It’s your lucky day, Scarlett. I’m giving you the chance to save yourself.” Silently, I add,And me.
Three
Scarlett
Save myself?
The offer sounds seductive, especially coming from those full lips on that dangerously attractive face. But is it too good to be true? And what is that accent? It has a Southern twang, but it’s almost undetectable.
I swallow another lump in my throat.His accent doesn’t matter. Getting out of here alive does.
I lift my chin and stare him down, because that seems to be working best. And it’s no hardship to stare at the man.Jesus Christ.I’ve never seen such harsh splendor in my life.
Stop thinking about that and focus on getting the hell out of here, my inner voice snaps.
“How do I know this isn’t some kind of trick?”
His expression doesn’t change at all. It’s like his face is carved into the side of a mountain and completely devoid of emotion. Except ... there’s a nearly imperceptible flex of his jaw from side to side.
“You don’t know it isn’t. But you’ll listen to me anyway.”
The words carry so much power, I can practically feel it envelop me. I want to sink into one of the leather chairs and wrap my arms around myself protectively. No, not into a chair. I want to back away from his foreboding presence and all the chaos it has unleashed on my system and run straight for the door. Except there’s the other man in the room who somehow managed tokidnap mewhile I was jogging home from a photo op. Yeah, probably not getting too far past him.
Instead, I clutch one thing no one can ever take from me—my bravado. “Then talk. I have a rather busy evening planned, and it won’t take long for someone to notice I’m gone.”
Mom would be proud of my haughty tone and subtle threat. She taught me that confidence is the most important accessory you can ever wear, and even if you’re not truly feeling it, you have a duty to fake it.