she lifted her chin and glared belligerently since he, apparently, could see. “But that was before I found out what a jerk you are.” She tried to wrestle her arms free from his hold. “What are you? Some kind of serial killer or something?”
“And what if I am?”
She stilled, allowing him to think that the idea startled her. Well, it did, sort of, but not enough for the drama queen performance she was laying on at the moment. “You’re...you’re not going to kill me, are you?”
He made a sound...a laugh, only too soft and with no humor whatsoever. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Time to pump up the theatrics. She tried to pull free again. “Let me go!”
He released her, and she stumbled back a couple of steps. “Look, just let me go and I won’t say a word. I don’t even know your name.”
“That’s what they all say,” he countered, his tone purposely sinister.
He wanted her afraid...he didn’t like it that she wasn’t scared of him. Tasha pondered that assessment briefly. He wanted to be in complete control. Testing the waters of her theory, she summoned the proper emotion and pleaded, “I swear I won’t say anything!”
Another of those soft, humorless laughs, scarcely more than a breath. “With that mouth do you really expect me to believe you can keep a secret?”
She balled her fingers into fists and suppressed the urge to slug him. Jerk. “Just tell me what you want,” she urged, going for a placating tone and forcing her muscles to relax from their battle-ready stance. She had to remember he could see. “I’ll do anything you ask.”
He moved closer...a step, maybe two, the movement soundless. But she didn’t have to hear him, she felt him, as if they were somehow connected on some weird level. “But, if I’m a serial killer as you suggested, anything you do won’t make a difference. You’ll die anyway.”
He liked the power...wanted her helpless. She was sure of it. Reacting as he would expect to the encroaching sound of his voice, she backed away, the chain rattled as she bumped into the cot. “Just my luck to hit on a psycho,” she muttered, forcing a tremor into her voice. “But my luck has always sucked anyway.” She had a hunch. It was a long shot, but what the hell. “My own mother ran out on me as a kid, but I managed to get by.” She glared in his direction, lifting her chin with a hint of defiance. “Looks like fate had it in for me all along.”
He moved again...close enough that she could have reached out and touched him.
She collapsed onto the cot in a show of defeat. “Just get it over with.” She hugged herself and exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t want to play any sick games. I got enough of that crap from my old man before he cut out on me, too.”
“You just don’t know when to shut up, do you?” Before she could make an evasive maneuver he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet.
Surprisingly, she sensed anger in his tone, felt it in his punishing grip. She thought about that for the three seconds she dared permit the distraction. He didn’t want to hear about her fictional childhood distress. Was there something like that in his past? Maybe she’d play up the whole “beaten down” strategy and see where it took her.
“Look,” she said wearily, “if you’re going to kill me you’d better let me pee first otherwise I’m going to make a hell of a mess on your floor.”
He grabbed her right hand and pried it open. Before she could fathom his intent he placed a key in her palm. Startled all over again by his actions, she crouched down and unlocked the steel bracelet around her ankle. She rubbed the raw skin there and then straightened and offered him the key back. Could this guy be human after all?
“Does this mean you’re not going to kill me?”
He didn’t answer, just manacled her arm and dragged her across the room. The stairs were a little tricky in the dark, but he didn’t seem to have any trouble.
She wondered how he could possibly have such excellent night vision. There were people like that she knew, but generally there was some physiological reason. He’d have one, as well.
When he opened the door at the top of the stairs, she blinked rapidly to allow her eyes to adjust to the light.
She studied the layout of the house as he led her through the kitchen and down a hallway. Back door in kitchen near sink. Three more doorways in the hall. One leading to what looked like a living room, the one they’d exited from the kitchen and the third one led to a bathroom. The stairs climbing to the second level started where the hall ended opposite the front door. No pictures on the walls. No other decorating touches.
At the bathroom door he stood aside. “Make it fast.”
She sidled past him but hesitated before closing the door. “You mean you’re not going to watch.”
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall without responding.
Tasha closed the door and sagged with relief.
She exhaled some of the tension tightening her chest, but instead of relaxing, she quickly surveyed the small room for a means of escape. Not that she’d decided she needed to make a run for it yet...but just in case. She was pretty sure that if he’d intended to kill her he would have, whether she needed to relieve herself or not. Besides, she was trapped.
The only window was one of those small rectangular ones above the tub/shower combination. As slim as she was there was no way she was getting out that route.
Knowing he was waiting right outside, she pushed off the door and took care of nature’s call.
As she flushed the toilet she couldn’t help smiling. She’d done it. Gotten him to bring her to his lair. Lucas Camp, she mused, wherever you are, I’m in.
Chapter 12
They’d driven around most of the night.
And found nothing. Her signal had restarted briefly at one point, but not long enough for a lock on her location.
Maverick scrubbed a hand over his face and cursed himself for letting her get away.
He was her backup.
If she was dead...
Ramon was part of her backup, as well, but Maverick was the one in charge. In nearly two decades of this kind of work he’d never lost a team member. Not once. He didn’t want to start with one so damned young.
An almost inaudible beep sounded in the silence of the truck.
He jerked to attention, his gaze going instantly to the monitor he still clutched in his hand.
The two previously flat lines he’d stared at for hours on end blinked into activity.
“We’ve got her back,” he said in a rush, the words scarcely more than a relieved whisper.
Ramon sat up a little straighter behind the wheel. “Give me some directions, amigo.”
He
