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Cas took in a deep breath, clearly torn between his need to find Miguel quickly and his respect for his half brother. Finally, he relented. “You have until morning. If she doesn’t talk by then, I’ll have no choice.”
“She will.” Hunter smiled, slinging the saddlebag over his shoulder and tucking his bedroll under his arm, before going to confront his captive. She’d talk by morning, because he had no intention of letting Zane—or anyone else—touch her. She was his.
Chapter Four (#ulink_87884fb8-06aa-571b-89ea-3160ccb7ee79)
The moment the pretty one had stepped outside, the giant lowered his hands and took the few steps necessary to cross the room and stand in front of her. Even with her extra height due to the fact that her hands were strung up to the rafters and her weight was supported by her toes, he loomed almost a head taller. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to control the trembling that threatened to begin in her limbs if she even dared to imagine what he might do to her. Just one of his large hands could break her. Bracing herself for the possible blow, she forced herself to look up to meet his stare, refusing to be cowed by him. Hard, black eyes stared back at her, a cold mask that left her longing for the comfort of the pretty one’s presence. She had no reason to expect that he would protect her, but he had seemed reluctant to hurt her. A scar slashed through one brow and a high cheekbone making the giant look forbidding and almost barbaric.
“My brother has a weakness for comely women.”
Brother? His darker complexion clearly proclaimed his native heritage. There was no way the men were brothers, but she couldn’t dwell on that with his next words. “You’d do well to confess your secrets to him.”
“And if I don’t?” As soon as the words were out, she longed to call them back. She’d become accustomed to verbally sparring with Ship’s men, but these men were predators and Ship wasn’t around to save her with his influence.
His lips parted in what might have been a smile, but as she stared at his even white teeth she could only imagine it to be the grin of a wolf as it toyed with its prey. “Then you find out if I share his weakness.”
The creak of the door opening and the scuff of a boot stepping inside the shack was such a relief that her entire body unclenched as her breath whooshed out. The pretty one stood broad and tall just inside the doorway, his brow furrowed as his sharp, narrowed gaze took them in. A hitch in her chest that she attributed to relief made it difficult to breathe for just a moment.
A part of her wanted him to scold his brother for daring to approach her while he was gone, but he just moved forward to set his saddlebag and bedroll on the floor in front of the fire. The giant joined him and they stepped to the door, murmuring in voices too low for her to hear, though she caught the occasional word in Spanish. Then the big man nodded and closed the door behind him as he left. Her gaze went back to the bedroll. It appeared they intended to stay the night in the shack. Would she sleep in the bedroll with him or hang like this all night? With her fingers already starting to fall asleep, both options seemed unsavory.
He shrugged out of his duster and folded it lengthwise before holding it out as if to drop it on a table, but the room was bare of anything save the lamp sitting on a crudely built stool. Noting that, he allowed the coat to drop behind him to the floor before looking back to her. His hands rested at his waist, guiding her attention to the impressive Colts with their pearl inlaid grips holstered at his hips. Searching for other weapons, she made a sweep of his person, her gaze raking down long, powerful legs to the knife tied at his ankle. Its blade was almost a foot long. It made her own tiny knife, hidden in her boot, seem like the pathetic security that it was.
Feeling just slightly more defeated than she had before, she allowed her gaze to rove back up to his hands. They were so large, just one had managed to wrap itself about both of her wrists with ease. In his position, his shirt was stretched taut across the muscles of his chest, revealing just how thick and solid it was. Sometimes the added layers of material from a thick coat and duster made a man seem much larger than he was. Often the men who rode with Ship or the ones who came into the saloon seemed formidable until they divested themselves of their outer wear to reveal a soft middle or a gaunt frame. Not this one. He was trim around the middle and just as muscled as she had imagined he would be. She’d ridden before him on the horse and had felt that strength at her back, but she’d hoped she’d been mistaken. The slender thread of hope that had made her think she might be able to survive long enough in a physical skirmish to reach for his knife or gun broke beneath the truth of his powerful frame. It was hopeless to plan that sort of escape. No, she’d have to come up with another plan quickly. Her sisters must be worrying themselves sick and her heart clenched to hug them against her and reassure them that everything would be all right.
He was watching her, but hadn’t yet moved. “What do you plan to do with me?” she asked because she couldn’t keep quiet under the force of his scrutiny any longer.
“That’s an interesting question. One with an answer that depends more on you than on me.” He smiled. A slight upturn of his mouth on the left side that made her once again note how beautifully sculpted those lips were. It was a ridiculous observation, but there it was and, once noted, it wasn’t something that could be unseen. Forcing herself not to look at them, she instead watched how he moved with ease and control as he closed the distance between them. Lazy indifference was the phrase that came to mind. Without a care in the world, almost as if he hadn’t strung her up at all and they were about to have a drink back at the saloon. The thought almost made her laugh and she realized that her very real fear must be making her daft.
“You’re toying with me.”
Genuine amusement flashed in his eyes as he came to a stop before her, too close to be decent, but then the entire situation smacked of indecency. “Regretfully, no.” He breathed out the words. “Answer my questions honestly and you’ll be fine, sweetheart.” His hand rested on her waist as he moved to stand behind her. With her arms strung up, she couldn’t turn her head to watch him so she waited as he came to a stop behind her. The sudden silence in the room was only broken by the crackling of the fire and her own breath. He was close, his body heat actually warming her backside, but if it was because he was purposely standing close or if it was just an unfortunate accident of the room’s dimensions, she had no idea. Until his fingers touched her ribs. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip to stifle her gasp of surprise and managed not to squirm as he ran his hands down the sides of her hips and then her legs, coming to a stop at her ankle boots. When he began to untie one, she kicked out.
“Don’t take my shoes!” If she managed to escape she needed her shoes, but more importantly, she didn’t want him to know about the knife.
He ignored her protests and clamped an arm around her legs, effectively turning her into a twitching worm with no limbs. The extra weight pained her wrists, so she stopped fighting and hung her head, accepting the momentary defeat. The left ankle boot was the first to be tossed across the room, followed soon by the right. He stood and his boots came into her line of vision as he moved around to her front. Though they were dusty, the hint of a sheen that lurked beneath implied they were impeccably cared for. Outlaws were scruffy creatures who could barely get their hands on two coins to rub together, because they drank away everything they stole. Who were these men?
Taking her chin in a chillingly gentle hold, he forced her to meet his gaze. He wasn’t smiling as he held the knife he’d found in its leather sheath before her face.
“Ever use this before?” His warm breath fanned her cheek.
“A few times.” She jerked her chin from his grasp. “I’m used to dealing with unsavory men.”
But none so handsome as him, an inner voice chided. With him standing so close to her, it was difficult not to notice his beauty. The planes of his face, his cheekbones, the bow of his lips, the strong jaw and chin, he could have been sculpted in granite by a master craftsman. The coarse sprinkling of a few days’ worth of beard only made his classic beauty more rugged and masculine. Oh, dear Lord, Em, of all the men Ship has brought home to you, you pick this one to become a fool over? A pretty face did not equal pretty intentions, and this one had some fairly dubious intentions toward her. The fact that he was beautiful was an atrocity against nature, not something to become weak in the knees over.
Without warning, he unsheathed the blade and threw it across the small room so that it embedded itself in the wall, the wooden handle vibrating.
“Do you have anything else in that dress that I should know about?” His smooth, deep voice caressed her ears in a way that was entirely too unseemly for their current situation.
Her locket! Her eyes widened before she could stop them and her heart gave a jolt in her chest. She’d been so concerned with physically fighting him that she had forgotten all about her locket and the sleeping powder it contained. Of course! It should have been her plan all along. When she turned twelve her mother had presented her with a pouch of white powder, left over from her days at the brothel. With shrewd eyes and in a conspiratorial whisper, she had shared with Emmaline its secret. A little bit put into a man’s drink would leave no taste and would leave him well rested and certain that he’d had the best tumble of his life, albeit too embarrassed to admit that he didn’t remember the actual act itself. Too much and he’d be left groggy, disoriented, and suspicious the next morning.
Emmaline had used it before and knew that it worked well. While her mother had lived, the men Ship rode with had kept their distance and usually slept in the barn if he brought them home. After her death, they found their way inside more often than not. Generally they kept their distance from her, regarding her as the child of their boss and off-limits, but occasionally—especially if Ship was drunk or preoccupied—one would make an advance. Sometimes she was able to verbally put them in their place, sometimes a flash of her knife had done the trick, but when that hadn’t worked she’d smiled and sweetly offered them a drink. Thinking they had won her over, they had eagerly accepted and grinned lecherously as they anticipated the night to come. Emmaline had always slept well on those nights.
She’d been stupid to forget the powders and now she was terrified of losing her only advantage. “No, nothing.” She shook her head as vigorously as she was able given her awkward position. When his gaze narrowed, she held a breath and forced a calm she didn’t feel, lest she give herself away. “The knife was all I had.”
He didn’t seem convinced and she tried not to gasp when his big hands tore at the lacing on the front of her corset, before pushing up underneath. “What the hell are you doing?”
He didn’t answer but reached behind her to the ties in the back. Panic gripped her as the strings gave way. “Please, don’t!” His arms were around her almost like an embrace, and her struggles only seemed to emphasize that as with every movement she somehow twisted closer to him. Suddenly he became every nightmare she’d ever had about the men in Ship’s gang. She was trussed, more helpless than she had ever been, and this man was so much stronger than her. Making sure to get both sets of toes on the ground, she pushed upward with her last bit of strength and bent her knees, hoping to catch him in his groin or middle, anywhere soft where a kneecap could hurt.
His hands dropped immediately to catch her, gripping her at the top of her thighs and pressing downward, holding them steady so that her one jolt of momentum had been lost and she flailed helplessly until she could get traction on the floor with her toes again. Except that when she did, her front was almost entirely pressed to his, so there was no space to attack him. “Whoa...easy... I won’t hurt you like that, Em.” His voice was low and deep.
She was so shocked when he spoke her name that she gasped aloud. His lips tipped upward in an attractive smile. It was knowing and teasing, hinting at an awareness between them that she had no intention of acknowledging aloud. Damn him, it made her aware of the hard, strong length and breadth of his body pressed against hers and the way his big hands held her thighs tight against his own, and the fact that those things weren’t entirely unpleasant. Nothing about the moment should have reassured her about his intentions, but it did. He didn’t mean to force himself on her.
“You know my name.”
“The man at the saloon called you Em.” He explained. “What’s it short for? Emily? Emma?”
The fact that her eyes had slipped down to watch his mouth form those words only made her angry. “That’s none of your business.”
His brow rose and with that same lazy amusement, his hands slipped from her thighs and he moved to stand behind her to deftly finish unlacing the corset until it fell to the floor at her feet. She closed her eyes and bit down on her lip when his hands roamed her torso, making sure that there were no pockets hidden in the dress where she had stashed a weapon. He was back to being a ruthless outlaw when he stood before her again. She tried not to notice how the dress gaped open now that the corset wasn’t there to hold it in place. She wasn’t as buxom as her mother had been, but the corset had held the extra fabric in place nicely. Without it, well, there wasn’t much to keep the bodice from exposing her. He had no qualms about noticing and allowed his gaze to roam at will. When he reached toward her bodice, she sucked in a quick breath, but he only fished the locket out from between her breasts and turned it over in his fingers.
She held that breath, willing him to put it back. Finally, he looked up from his study of the tin trinket with its faux onyx locket. The stone would open on a hinge to reveal the real treasure of the powders inside and his thumb absently stroked that very hinge, taunting her as she imagined just how easily it would pop open to reveal her secret. “Please, don’t take it. It was a gift from my father.”
“Stolen no doubt,” he remarked as he examined the locket in his palm.
“Not Ship,” she corrected. “My real father. That’s all I have of him. Please don’t take it.”
“Not Ship, huh?” His knowing glance filled her with dread. “You mean not Ship Campbell, the man you claim to know nothing about?”
Dammit! She wasn’t any good at this. She’d walked right into that. This was the worst night of her life and she was being a complete idiot. First the powders and now this. She was always the one in the family with a level head. The one making sure they had canned enough food to last through winter, making sure the eggs they sold in town went for the best price, but now she was being an idiot. The fear she had been holding back so well was finally starting to wear on her.
He grinned and gently tucked the trinket back between her breasts, the backs of his fingers stroking against her skin as he did. Biting down on the inside of her lip to stop the shiver that threatened to move through her, she watched his face for any indication of what he planned to do next. Taking a step back, he crossed his arms over his chest. “All right, you can keep it, but only if you tell me what you know about Campbell.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go to hell again, but that would simply be letting her anger talk and do her no favors. He might even take her locket, leaving her situation even more dire. Anger wasn’t the way to handle him or her predicament. It was time to start using her head and stop simply reacting to what was happening. She was smarter than this, smarter than him. She just needed to get herself out of her bonds and the only way to do that was to appear to cooperate and earn his trust.
Swallowing back the words she longed to hurl at him, she managed a grave expression and gave him a contrite nod. “Ship Campbell is my stepfather.”
“How long have you known him?”
“About thirteen years.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Five weeks ago. He was supposed to be home last week, but he hasn’t come back yet.”
“What do you know about his plans when he left?” he asked, continuing his rapid-fire assault.
Torn between playing along and risking revealing something that he shouldn’t know and possibly compromising Ship’s safety, she bit down on her bottom lip to contemplate her answer. His gaze immediately darted to the movement and she froze as an intangible and warm current moved between them. Lord, this man was dangerous in more ways than one. In completely inappropriate ways that didn’t bear thinking about now trussed up like she was.
With an infinitely gentle touch, his thumb pressed against the flesh just below her lip and pulled it free. “No lying. Tell the truth and I promise you’ll be safe.”
Just the touch of his thumb felt a thousand times better than it should. She took in a shuddering breath as a ripple of pleasure moved through her from that touch before answering him. It wasn’t as if she knew that much anyway. “He was going to rob a bank in Crystal City, I think. It was supposed to be a quick job and then back.”
“It takes about a week and a half to ride to Crystal City from here. A week and a half back. What did he plan to do with that extra week?”
He’d mentioned a detour to meet an old friend, to hide out so no one followed him from the bank, but the presence of the Reyes Brothers made her wonder if that hadn’t worked out. “I don’t know,” she answered. “He doesn’t share the details with me and I don’t ask.”
“Why doesn’t he share the details? Aren’t you involved with his gang?” That same thumb traced a lazy path across her chin before he grimaced and drew his hand back, as if just catching himself in the act of touching her.
“No,” she snapped at him, unreasonably angry at herself for missing his touch.
He was quiet for a while, his gaze piercing, making her want to fidget beneath his scrutiny. He didn’t believe her. The skepticism was plainly written on his face. She couldn’t blame him, though, because she knew herself to be a horrible liar. She wasn’t involved with his plans, but she knew where his friend lived. Ship had always told her to look for him there if he ever went missing. If Ship was actually visiting that friend, she had no idea, but it was something she needed to keep to herself, which was why she needed a distraction. She’d feed him faulty information about the farm, make them go somewhere else so they would leave her alone.
“Go to the farm if you don’t believe me. He’s not there. But he keeps a chest at the foot of his bed and it’s full of notes. You might find something there that will tell you where he’s gone.”
His expression didn’t change as he brought his thumb up and slowly ran the side along the crease below his well-formed bottom lip. Perversely, the movement held her mesmerized until she forced herself to look away. “You still don’t believe me?”
“Your sudden cooperation seems a little too convenient.”
It was too convenient. She was planning to lie. “My hands are numb and my arms hurt. That changes things.”
“Where’s the farm?” he asked, without addressing her complaints.
“Oh, no, you don’t get that information so easily.”
Raising a brow and crossing his arms over his chest again, he was apparently willing to stare her down as he awaited her capitulation. When she didn’t speak, his gaze went to the dangerously gapped-open bodice and the locket gleaming in the firelight. Unwelcome butterflies fluttered along with the nerves in her belly. “You wanted to keep your trinket,” he reminded her.
“Please.” She tugged on the bonds at her wrists, wincing at the pain. “This is horribly uncomfortable. Cut me down and I’ll tell you where the farm is.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_18eaca46-7287-5a8f-986e-d82827626156)
Hunter allowed his gaze to linger on the swell of her breasts before bringing it upward to settle on her eyes. They held his attention just long enough to make her squirm as he pretended to weigh her request. He’d cut her down because what had begun as a game to expediently get information from her had turned into something more dangerous. There was something provocative about having her bound before him, but he’d never taken a woman by force and he wouldn’t start now. The same instinct that made him want to protect her made him want to make her his.
Despite her attractive face, he’d expected her to be different than she was. These past years, they’d traveled through many backwater hells avoiding the law, avoiding outlaw hunters, avoiding all the sons of bitches looking to make a name for themselves by taking one of them out, but all the women he’d ever come across in those dark places were just like their men. Uneducated, coarse and almost willfully ignorant in their spurning of the outside world.
She was different.
The way she spoke made him think that she’d had some education, but he didn’t know how that could be, considering what he’d seen of Whiskey Hollow and what he knew of her stepfather. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with an intelligence that was intriguing with the challenging way she looked at him, as if taunting him to figure out her secrets. Those eyes coupled with the unexpectedly soft curves that he’d felt as he’d searched her for weapons had been damned pleasing. The mere memory made blood rush to his groin. The firelight flickered, gave her skin a golden hue as she hung there, tied like an offering to him. Her unbound breasts begged for his palms, as they were all but revealed to him, the black lace at the edge of her bodice only just managing to keep the pink of her nipples hidden. The locket taunted him from its prized position nestled between them. It didn’t help that the looks she gave him said she was as attracted to him as he was to her. She tried to hide it, but she wasn’t as afraid of him as she should be, at least not afraid for her safety like a normal captive would be. Her fear stemmed from what crackled between them.
Pushing a hand through his hair, he forced a breath out and decided he’d been too long without a woman, a situation he’d have to wait until he got back home to Helena to rectify. Damn Campbell to hell! He’d happily kill the man with his bare hands once they recovered Miguel. She startled when he made a quick grab to pull his knife from its sheath strapped to his boot. He approached her more slowly so she knew his intention, the knife raised to the rope securing her to the wood beam above her head.
When her arms fell free she stumbled forward into him. “Whoa, I’ve got you.” He wrapped an arm around her small waist, his fingers noting each fragile bone as his hand rested along her rib cage, and a shard of anger tore through him. Campbell had done a piss-poor job of taking care of her. It was clear that she hadn’t had a decent meal in months. He could break her in two if he wasn’t careful. He gentled his hold as he half bent to sheathe his knife. She was trembling, but probably more from muscle fatigue than fear, or at least that’s what he wanted to believe.
Before he could suppress it, a wave of tenderness for her moved through him. She must lead a very lonely life with Campbell gone for months at a time. The thought brought back unwelcome memories of his own childhood. With his mother living so far away in Boston and his father working all hours of the day and night, he’d known what it meant to be lonely. His hands tightened on her waist as he straightened.
Nostrils flaring, he took in her scent, a faint undercurrent of wildflowers. The silken waves of her dark hair brushed against his knuckles, giving him the urge to tangle his fingers in it and pull her head back to taste her. He closed his eyes as he stifled the notion. She was his captive, not his woman. That line could not get blurred. What in hell was wrong with him?
Slipping a fingertip underneath the rope that still held her wrists tied together in front of her, he made sure that it was loose enough that it wouldn’t hinder circulation while still keeping her somewhat restrained. His palms settled on her hips, helping her to find her footing before moving on to her arms, stroking up and down her forearms in a massage to help get her blood flowing again.
“Thank you,” she murmured a few moments later, her voice slightly hoarse.
He stifled a twinge of guilt that she would thank him for cutting her loose, as the soft catch in her voice brought his eyes to hers. He saw reflected there the same awareness that thrummed through his body, that attraction that refused to be cowed whether it was appropriate or not. Like lightning drawn to iron, his gaze moved down to her small mouth and lush, red lips that made his breath quicken. As if readying themselves for him, they parted and it was all he could do not to take them.
But he wasn’t that man. He didn’t need to take advantage of a woman who was at his mercy.
Annoyed at his own response to her, he demanded in a low voice, “The farm. Where is it?”
* * *
Caught in their dangerous spell, it took her a few seconds to realize what he had said. He was so close that his scent enveloped her. Leather, the subtle salt of perspiration, the spice of some long-ago applied aftershave—none of which were overpowering, but combined in a heady blend that was pure male and unexpectedly appealing. It was more than his scent and his handsome-as-sin looks that intrigued her. Though he was an outlaw and danger poured off him, she recognized gentleness beneath the harsh exterior. He’d not been rough with her at all, when any one of Ship’s men would have gloried in their power had they been in his position. And, though at first she hadn’t been sure of his intention, she knew he wouldn’t force himself on her.
A grudging respect for him had grown within her. True, she was his captive, though she didn’t really think that was a situation he had wanted. But she also knew that he was an outlaw, probably wanted from here to Texas, and she couldn’t forget that. And despite the fact that he had checked the bindings on her wrists to make sure they weren’t too tight, he had put them there.
Buying some time to get her thoughts in order, she pulled away from him and rubbed her hands together. “I’m cold.” It was true, but she said it more to stall because she had no idea what she planned to tell him about the farm.
His nostrils flared slightly as he took a deep breath and moved away, walking backward the few steps it took him to reach his saddlebags. When he stood back up, holding the winter dress that she was sure had been lost back when they’d taken her, she found herself smiling for the first time since she’d left the saloon. The brown wool was a welcome sight. It wasn’t the prettiest dress in her paltry wardrobe, but it was warmer than the dance-hall costume and much less revealing. “Here.” She automatically held up her wrists so that he could cut the rope free.
Except he didn’t move but to raise a brow at her.
“Well, how else am I to get that on?” she challenged and reached for the dress, but missed because he raised the wad of fabric higher.
“I’ll help.” The lazy, teasing smile had returned to his mouth now that the fire had been banked...slightly.
“Thank you, but, no.” Holding her hands out for him again, she nodded to the knife sheathed to his boot. “Just untie me. You can tie me back up after I’m done, if you think I’m such a threat to you. Please,” she added at the end when he just stared back at her.
Faster than she had imagined possible, even having seen him grab it before, he smoothly reached for the knife and stood with it in his fist. Slowly, not quite so certain now that he held the weapon, she offered him her wrists and he held them tight with his left hand, stuffing the dress beneath his arm, as he sawed at the rope with his right. The rope loosened and partly fell away, aided by her when she was finally able to get a hand loose. She threw the rope into the fire before he could stop her, but she needn’t have worried because he only smirked at her as he handed over the dress. “Change.”
“Turn around.”
The smirk didn’t leave his face as he half turned, facing the door and giving her his shoulder.
“All the way around.”
He only gave her a shake of his head and kept his eyes on the door. “You haven’t earned my trust yet, sweetheart. This will have to do.” Then he gave her a glance and a wink. “Unless you’ve reconsidered my help.”
When she only glared at him and began unbuttoning her costume, he gave a low laugh and looked back toward the door. Turning her back to him, she did her best to shield herself from him in case he dared to look back over at her. It wasn’t difficult, she left her drawers and camisole on while quickly stepping out of the costume and shimmying into her dress. She made quick work of the buttons up the front and turned back to him just as he turned to her, making her wonder if he’d been peeking. He wasn’t smirking anymore though. In fact, his brows were narrowed over his eyes, bringing to mind the fierce outlaw she’d seen walking into her saloon.
“The farm.”
Just like that, she missed him smirking and a little playful. She hadn’t realized he’d backed her across the tiny space until her spine touched the wall and she let out a little sound of surprise. Eyes wide, she took in the breadth of him as he loomed above her. Her heart pumped hard in her chest as he crowded her even more until her entire body was flush with the wall. His greenish eyes had darkened, with the fire at his back, making him appear almost otherworldly for one brief moment.
“You don’t scare me.” It was a brazen lie and they both knew it. Though she didn’t think he would physically hurt her, this man wielded too much power over her present and future, and inexplicably too much power over her body.
“Really? That’s interesting.” His hand came up out of the darkness, and she watched as his long, tapered fingers came toward her to reach for her locket. She grabbed his wrist before he reached it, but she couldn’t get his hand away no matter how hard she pushed. Before she realized it, he’d grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and pressed them flat to the wall above her head. All she could do then was watch as his palm closed around the only weapon she had, the backs of his fingers resting against her breasts. She was certain he could feel her heart threatening to pound out of her chest. Her eyes were glued to his fist, well aware that one tug was all it would take to break the slender chain so that it would fall away from her neck and he’d hold her only hope of escape. “Tell me again how I don’t scare you.”
She couldn’t help but to raise her chin, refusing to be cowed by him, even though it was a different experience entirely to be totally restrained by him rather than the rope. It gave the situation an intimacy that the binding hadn’t. While fear pounded through her, it was tempered with something else that she wouldn’t dare to allow herself to think about. “As I said, I’m used to dealing with men like you.”
“Sweetheart, I seriously doubt you’ve met anyone like me.”
“All men of your ilk seem to think that they’re an original.”
