off, to stop sending sexy little temps to his office and to stop sending him messages to come visit.
Instead, he’d ended up on the wrong end of a strip search, being held hostage by his own gun no less. He, a guy who knew how to kill a man in more ways than he could count, had been taken down by a few punks with a vendetta against his father.
If that didn’t bite, watching them mess with his gun while he sat in his shorts sure did. And if that didn’t also say how much he’d lost his edge, how dead-on-target his decision had been to get out of the CIA, he didn’t know what did.
He supposed it could have been worse.
They could have killed him.
“Can you? Find a phone?”
The cute young thing was still talking. He let out a long breath and opened his eyes. “Probably.”
“So…will you?”
“No.”
She blinked. “What?”
“No,” he repeated clearly.
“But…why not?”
“Because it’s dark.”
She eyed him from head to toe, making him glad he’d been allowed to keep his shorts because for some reason, even though she drove him crazy, his body didn’t seem to want to agree with his brain on that assessment.
“The dark shouldn’t bother a guy like you,” she finally said.
Think again, sweetheart. “I’ll go at daylight.”
“But…”
“Daylight. Now…was there something you wanted to do to pass the time?”
“No,” she squeaked.
“Fine.” He tried to forget he was stuck with one of his father’s babes. She looked like heaven, he’d give her that, but she talked too much. At the ripe old age of thirty-one, Reilly had come to realize he liked women, he liked them a lot, but he liked them quiet, reserved and controlled…much like himself, actually.
But this one couldn’t be quiet to save her life, much less be restrained and controlled. She was pacing the floor right this very second. “We’re not going to get out of here for a few hours, so you might as well stop wearing a hole in that tile.”
She stopped and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
And in truth, maybe he had. Certainly the old Reilly would have gotten up and rescued the damsel in distress.
The new Reilly, no longer of CIA, no longer of anything or anyone else except Reilly Ledger of Accountant-4-Hire, his small accounting firm with clients as reclusive as he was. He pushed papers around when and how he felt like it, didn’t take orders from anyone but himself, and never, ever rescued damsels in distress.
Unless it was accounting-related, and, in that case, he charged by the hour.
She put her hands on her hips, a gesture it appeared she used a lot to compensate for being so short, but it did draw his attention to her mid-thigh sundress. It was pale-green with flowers on it and was actually quite demure, except that every time she moved it danced around her tanned, toned legs.
Very distracting, those legs.
“There’s no good reason why we have to stay in here,” she said.
“Other than we’re trapped?”
“Honestly, all you have to do is crawl through—”
“I said no.”
She crossed her arms, plumping up the breasts he imagined could use a little plumping. “Give me one good reason other than you won’t be able to see.”
He stretched, and winced at the ache at the base of his skull. “That’s the reason.”
She stared at him, then tilted her head up and eyed the access, which was indeed wide enough for his body, and indeed a most excellent escape route. “You can’t be afraid of the dark.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t buy it. That would make you a sensitive man, and frankly, I’m not getting a lot of sensitivity here.”
“You’re not getting out tonight.”
“Fine, if you don’t want to do it. I will.” She dropped her arms and straightened, visibly swallowing while she mustered up all her courage. If he hadn’t been pissed and hurting, he might have admired her.
“Boost me up,” she said.
From flat on his back, he laughed, his first all night. “Let me get this straight. You’ll go crawling through the attic in the pitch dark, drop into a room you don’t know, possibly into the waiting arms of the guy I didn’t knock out, and then what? Let them have another stab at you?”
Her determined expression faltered, and the terror came through. “You’re right,” she whispered. “This is really serious, and I think it’s just hitting me. I’m sorry.” Then she blinked those wide, expressive eyes and hugged herself. He felt like a jerk.
He closed his eyes. “You’re just going to have to wait. Eddie will figure out you’re missing and come looking for you.”
“He’s in Cabo with his girlfriend for two days.”
That had his eyes opening again. “I thought you, Statutory Rape Lawsuit Walking, were the girlfriend.”
“You— I—” She sputtered, then laughed. She laughed hard and so genuinely, he actually felt the knot loosen in his belly because she was being honest, which meant his father hadn’t seduced this woman who was too cute and too young for him.
“I’m twenty-six years old,” she finally informed him. “Quite legal. And not that this is any of your business, but I am not your father’s girlfriend. I work in his temp agency.”
“Ah.” He didn’t want to think about why that made him feel a lot better, so he closed his eyes again.
A thunk sounded and with a sigh, he cracked open an eye. Looking small and defenseless, she’d sat on the floor against the far wall, beside the locked door, still hugging herself. Her knees were up, her head down on her arms.
Fine. That was a good place for her, far away from him, with her mouth thankfully shut for once.
He might have been able to pretend he was somewhere else other than lying on a damn cot with no clothes and a bump on the back of his head…if she hadn’t shivered.
He closed his eyes against it but he could have sworn he could hear her teeth rattling together. “Damn it. Get over here.”
She lifted her head, and in the glow from the light outside the window, he saw her expression. Gone was the temporary bravado. Gone were all signs that she was holding up under what even he could admit had been a fairly traumatizing experience. Wet now, her eyes were the color of rain-soaked leaves, and her mouth trembled. The bruises on her throat had
