She didn’t jerk back on his grip, and he was thankful for that, because he wasn’t sure he had enough energy to fight her right now if she tried anything.

“I need to look at your shoulder again before you lie down,” she said at his back.

He didn’t answer, just found the closest bedroom and pulled her inside. Closing the door with his boot, he tugged off his jacket and tossed it on a chair to his right, then did the same with his T-shirt and pulled her toward the bed.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” she mumbled. He set the bag of supplies they’d picked up on the bed beside him while she shrugged out of her sweatshirt, dropped it on the ground, and then began gently peeling away his bandages.

Zane closed his eyes. “I’m a man, darlin’. We’re always impatient.”

“I remember. This actually looks pretty good. I’m just going to change the dressing.”

He didn’t want to think about what she remembered. He had enough memories pinging around in his brain for both of them—and most were the X-rated variety. He sat still while she removed the soaked bandages, added antibiotic ointment, and covered the wound again. But his stomach clenched every time her soft fingers grazed his skin, and with every breath he drew, a whiff of that sweet peach scent bombarded him, amping his awareness and sending blood straight to his groin.

“There,” she said, placing the last piece of tape over the wound. “Now you just need to take these before you pass out, and you should be good.” She handed him two pills from the bottle they’d picked up at the pet store and stepped away.

He snagged her by the wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get you a glass of water.”

“No water.” He popped the pills in his mouth and dry swallowed them.

There was just enough light coming through the window to see her exasperated expression. “Wow. What a stud you are.”

He ignored the sarcasm and patted the mattress beside him. “Get comfortable, sweetheart.”

She sighed. “Look, Archer. I—”

He jerked her toward him. A yelp slipped from her lips just before she fell into his body. Heat immediately enveloped him, but he quickly flipped her to her back, then climbed over her.

“Archer—”

Her warning was laced with just a touch of fear. Just enough to tell him he’d surprised her. And considering nothing seemed to surprise this woman, he was using that to his advantage.

He grasped both of her arms at the wrists and pinned them above her head. Pain ricocheted from his shoulder down his arm and back up again, but he ignored it. Just like he tried to ignore her trim hips locked between his knees and the way the light from the window spilled over her breasts and bare abdomen in that revealing top. “Here’s how this is going to work, sweetheart. I’m going to close my eyes for a few hours, and you’re going to stay right here beside me where I know you can’t get into any trouble. Then, when I wake up, I’ll call Carter, and we can both be rid of each other for good.”

She pursed her lips and lifted her chin, a clear challenge glinting in her eyes. “I’d like to be rid of you right now.”

“Too bad. You’re stuck with me.” He lowered his weight onto her, let go of one arm, and cinched the zip tie hidden in his hand around her wrist.

“Archer . . . What the hell?”

Zane looped the second zip tie through hers, tightened it around his own wrist, and then rolled off her onto his back.

“Oh my God.” She sat upright. “You did not just do that. Where the fuck did you get more zip ties?”

He yanked on her arm until his lowered back to the bed. “I stole them. You’re not the only one who can filch goods unnoticed, beautiful.” He relaxed back into the pillows and closed his eyes. “Now lie down.”

“You are so gonna pay for this.”

He didn’t need to see the smoke pumping from her ears to know it was there. He could hear it in her voice and feel it in the heat radiating from her skin. A wry smile curled his lips. “I figure I’m already doing time in purgatory, thanks to you. A few more years won’t kill me.”

“And to think,” Eve snapped as she flopped back onto the bed, “I was actually worried about you.”

Zane’s humor faded. “We both know you weren’t worried. You were just biding your time until you could run. I’m not a stupid Southern hick, sweetheart. Now shut up so I can get some sleep.”

“Don’t mind me,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and dragging his hand with her. “I’ll just be sitting here plotting all the ways I can murder you in your sleep.”

He chuckled. Now that was the feisty brunette he remembered. “Just do it quietly. I’m beat.”

She let out a long, frustrated sigh, but the sound didn’t irritate Zane like it should; instead, it relaxed him. And man, either he was seriously losing it, or all those drugs had finally fried his gray matter. Because lying next to his archenemy, feeling her heat, and smelling her soft, arousing scent, he suddenly wasn’t focused on revenge. Losing himself in all her softness sounded a hell of a lot better. And more fun. And, holy hell, way more fucking erotic.

He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.


The sound of metal scraping metal roused Olivia Wolfe from a restless sleep.

Pushing up on aching muscles, she looked toward the sound. Bright light blinded her, and she lifted a hand to shield her eyes.

“Wh-who’s there?” she asked in a voice rough from screams that had gone unanswered.

A silhouette moved in front of the light, but she couldn’t make out more than fuzzy shapes, light and darkness. Fresh air seeped into the blackness around her, and she drew it in, afraid it might be her last breath.

“Shh,” a voice said softly. A familiar voice. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Terror consumed Olivia, and she scooted back until her spine hit the cold metal wall.

“It’s just food,” the voice—the male voice—said in the same easy tone. “You need to eat.”

A scraping sound echoed, and nerves humming, Olivia looked down at the metal plate he scooted across the floor.

Her gaze darted up to where he was kneeling, feet from her, but she couldn’t make out more than shadows. “Eat,” he said softly.

The scent finally hit her. Not filth and metal and mildew like she’d been living with these last few hours—or had it been days already? She had no concept of time—the smell was of something sweet and rich and cheesy.

Her stomach rumbled. She grasped the plate and pulled it toward her. She hadn’t eaten since dinner with Karl. And she’d been so repulsed by the amount of grease the awful Mexican restaurant had cooked everything in that she’d barely eaten then. Not that Karl’s company had been a whole lot better, but what did she expect, going out with a chemistry teacher?

Carefully, she scooped two fingers into the food and lifted it to her nose. She sniffed, and when the smell didn’t repulse her, she brought it to her lips. Then groaned at the taste. Pasta. Some kind of cheesy, tomatoey dish. She swallowed a mouthful and went back for more. She didn’t even care that it wasn’t something she’d normally eat. It was hot and fresh, and right now it tasted like heaven.

She downed the entire plate like a starving animal before her brain kicked over from nourishment to wondering where Karl was and what he was doing. Surely he had to have told someone what had happened when he’d dropped her off at her house. Surely the authorities had to be looking for her right this very minute.

Her captor chuckled, and the sound was like ice, drenching her heart and soul and mind. She swallowed the last bite and looked up. The plate rattled against her broken fingernails.

“Be sure to drink.” He set a plastic jug of water on the floor, then pushed himself to his feet. “We don’t want you getting dehydrated. It’s almost over. Just hold on a little longer.”

He backed out the way he’d come, and then the metal hinges groaned and the door slammed shut with a crack that shook the entire room.

Silence and utter blackness swirled around Olivia like a vortex. Her stomach rolled, and the food she’d just eaten felt like a mound of lead in her gut. Pushing the plate away, she tugged her legs up, wrapped her arms around her head, and leaned against the corner of the cold room while she fought the rush of tears suddenly choking off her air supply. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know who was doing this to her or why. And she had no idea how long she’d be here or if she’d ever break free. All she knew was that she was alone.

Alone and tired and cold and afraid. And there was no one to hear her scream.

7

Okay, enough was enough. Eve cut her gaze toward Archer in the dim bedroom and clenched her jaw.

The bastard had fallen asleep like he didn’t have a care in the world while she sat here fuming and wishing she had a hatchet so she could chop off his arm and get away from all his manly heat.

Anger simmered under her skin as she watched light from the window fall over his bare muscular torso, his bandaged shoulder, and his scruffy jawline. His hair was a rumpled mess, his face tipped her way on the pillow. Moonlight made his eyelashes look longer and his lips too damn kissable.

She didn’t want to kiss him, dammit. She wanted to get the hell away from him. Her gaze strayed to the hand of his bad arm resting against his chiseled stomach, then to his jeans, riding entirely too low for her taste right now. Warmth bloomed in her stomach and trickled between her legs. Even in the dim light, she could see the hollow of his hip bones and that dark patch of hair leading south like a giant arrow.