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  I redirect my attention to the task at hand. I start to call her name, but refuse. I’m not using her name because that will make her real. That will make me see her as a person, and I can’t do that because there’s a good chance I’m going to have to kill her, whether I like it or not. The business comes first. Family comes first. I need to figure out what she knows. I take a step in her direction, and she scoots back on the bed. Fear will not work in this situation, so what the fuck do I do? She needs to think she can trust me. If she does work for Joe, I need her to feel like she’s in danger with him, like I will protect her. I need her to see him as the bad guy. I nod and clear my throat, not moving from the doorway. How the hell do I do this? “Hey…”

  Her eyes lift to mine, a small frown line appearing between her brows. “Hi,” she replies, an edge of apprehension in her voice as she quickly lowers her gaze back to her lap.

  “Look”—I skim my hand over the back of my neck and inhale to make my tone soften—“maybe the shower thing was a bit much…”

  Silence. I watch her pick at her cuticles, refusing to look up at me. “I’ve come to expect the worst from you, Jude. Don’t worry about it,” she mumbles.

  I cringe at the use of my name. I don’t like when she says it. At all.

  “Don’t fight me, then. I don’t like this situation any more than you do.”

  Raising her head, she locks her eyes on mine. “The moment I stop fighting is the moment I become a victim and you stop being the enemy.”

  I shake my head. She’s delusional. She already is a victim, for fuck’s sake, I think she just refuses to believe that.

  “Okay, well, I don’t want to make you a victim.” I take several steps toward the bed and stop at the foot.

  “That’s exactly what you want,” she says. “I’ve known men like you. You thrive on power.”

  “Look, you don’t know me, so stop psychoanalyzing what you’ve seen. You want me to let you out of here? You need to tell me why your boyfriend gave you up as collateral.”

  Her chest puffs and she shoots me a condescending look. “Because he’s a fucking arsehole, obviously.” And now she goes back to furiously picking at her nails.

  “Yeah…” I trail off. I can’t help but think that she looks so damn young. She’s too fucking young to be thrown to a pack of wolves like this. She’s like Daniel in the proverbial lion's den, except no angel would set foot in this house to save her.

  I tap my fingers over the comforter. “All I know about you is that your name is Victoria.”

  “Ria,” she corrects me.

  I laugh. “I’m not calling you Ria. That sounds like a fucking name you’d give a bird. I think I’ll just call you Tor.”

  “That sounds like a bloody stripper. Just don’t call me anything.” She narrows her eyes suspiciously, changing the subject. “We both know that you’re not going to let me go, not unless Euan pays, and that hasn’t materialized.” She lifts a brow at me, daring me to say otherwise.

  Slowly, I sit on the bed, keeping my distance from her, but even at that she presses her body harder against the headboard to keep as much space between us as possible. “I would like to, but I have to make sure I can trust you first.”

  Fuck, I’m not going to let her go. I’m telling her I need to trust her, and I know damned well she’s not going anywhere.

  “Of course, you, the criminal, need to be able to trust me, the normal, law-abiding girl you kidnapped. Makes perfect sense.”

  That comment of hers sends my blood pressure through the fucking roof. “I did not kidnap you!” I shout, my voice booming around the room. Her eyes widen at the sudden change in my tone. “I’m not into human trafficking, or taking people as ransom. Fucking stop accusing me. Your dumbass boyfriend gave you as collateral and my stupid lackey took you. I had no idea. You showing up here was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”

  She gets up and moves to the other side of the room, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at me. “You may not have been the one to take me, but I don’t recall you apologizing and sending me on my merry way, do you?”

  “At the moment, I have no other choice,” I say, letting it be known I’m aggravated.

  Her stare sets on mine, almost pleading with me. “There is always a choice.” The softness in her eyes turns hard and her brow furrows the longer she glares at me. “Only a weak man refuses to see otherwise.”

  She is brave to call me weak. I wet my lips with the edge of my tongue, and can feel my eyes harden. “Only a weak man shoves an innocent woman to a fucking criminal to save his own ass.” I cock a brow at her. “Don’t insult me. Not a wise decision on your part, trust me,” I warn.

  “You’re preaching to the choir when it comes to Euan and his lack of testicles. And I know well just how much not to test you,” she mumbles, rubbing at her throat.

  I try to shove away the memory of having my hands wrapped around her throat, and I settle back against the headboard. “How about you tell me about yourself so I’ll think about letting you go, or you could keep on running your damn mouth and rot in here. I’m just trying to talk to you here.”

  She sighs and eyes me. Cautiously, she approaches the bed, her finger trailing over the foot. She perches on the edge of the bed. Her body is still tense, but at least she’s not pressed up against the furthest fucking wall from me.

  “Fine, what do you want to know?”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  Her brows pull together in a frown. “I’m a doctor. I’m...well, I was doing my last year of residency.” Her head bows, and there she goes fidgeting with her hands again.

  “A doctor, huh? You one of those wanna-save-the-world girls?” I ask, partly out of genuine interest. I don’t need to fucking know her, but again, I’m curious, and that’s not fucking good.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I always wanted to be a doctor. What greater calling can there be than saving lives?”

  Typical answer. That’s well-rehearsed. One side of my mouth curls up and I narrow my eyes on her. “Really? That’s a pretty standard answer on an application to medical school. What really made you want to be a doctor? Do you actually give a shit, or is it just the money?”

  Her nostrils flare at my question. That’s evidently a sore subject for her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Fucking Therapist. Everyone needs a job. I worked hard and studied seven bloody years to be a doctor, and yes, I want to earn a fuck-load of money! Problem?”

  I press my index finger against my bottom lip, trying to cover a smirk. “No, not a problem.” I lean toward her, one side of my mouth lifting into a partial grin. “Earning fuck-loads of money is exactly why I do what I do.”

  “Except I choose to earn it by saving lives, whereas you choose to obtain it by threatening them,” she says, her face utterly expressionless.

  I shrug. “To each their own. Don’t judge, doll.” She glares at me, but the effect is completely lost. She manages to make a scowl look fucking angelic. If she’s working for Joe then I give it to him, she’s the perfect Trojan horse—she’s attractive, intelligent, and that smart-ass mouth of hers makes me really want to fuck her.

  “How do you and Euan know each other?” she asks, changing the subject. “I mean, obviously he placed a bet with you, but you must know him.”

  “Honey, I have never met your fucking boyfriend. I don’t meet people who deal with me.” I watch her carefully, looking for any subtle changes in her demeanor. The slight dilation of her pupil, a hitch in her breathing. “You are one of the few people who have seen my face and can tie me to any of the guys that do my dirty work for me.” I narrow my gaze. “Which I’m sure you can see poses a bit of a concern?”

  For a second, my pulse quickens, because maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that to her; but then again, she’s not going anywhere any time soon. If she’s a threat...well, I’ll deal with that when I’ve figured it out. For now, I have to worry about how the hell I am going
to figure that out.

  She frowns. “But why would you take a twenty-grand bet off a guy you don’t even know?”

  “That’s just the way this industry works. Most people aren’t dumb enough to fuck around and make bad bets. This isn’t the fucking lottery. Gambling the way I do is illegal, and the only way to enforce the rules of an illegal business is through brutality.” I force a sick smile to twist its way over my face. “Murder. People tend to take that very seriously.”

  “You say it’s business, but why would you run a business like that?” she asks. “Always living on the edge. That must wear you down.” She’s watching me carefully, her expression curious. If she’s with Joe, she already knows all this.

  “It’s a family thing. My grandfather did it, my father did it, and now it’s in my hands.”

  “Didn’t they want something better for you?” There’s no implication in her tone, she’s just asking.

  “I wanted something better.” I eye her. I know this next little bit will fucking floor her. “I finished a doctorate in biostatistics…but my father died, and what was I to do? I have to do my father right. Plus, it does make an ungodly amount of money.”

  I catch a flash of pity in her eyes. “Money isn’t everything, Jude,” she replies. I’m tempted to order that she stop using my name. It makes me feel...something that I don’t like. I wonder what it must be like to possess her kind of innocence. I’m hardened by the violence that surrounds me, and to me, it’s not just about the money, but she would never understand that. Power is a fucking bitch, and it is addictive. This job gives me power. That’s the one thing she has obviously figured out about me, that I like power.

  “How long have you been with your knight in shining armor?” I smirk.

  “A year or so.”

  “Must have an outstanding family.”

  “His dad is the Chief of Surgery at Vanderbilt. Let’s just say that Euan’s life has been handed to him on a gilded platter.” There’s a bitter edge to her tone. “Imagine my surprise when I found out he’s gambling daddy’s money away.”

  “You close with them?

  She frowns. “Euan’s family?”

  I nod.

  “He would go to his parents every Sunday religiously. Sometimes I would go with him. I guess they’re okay. A bit pretentious for my liking.”

  “Hmm. He from a big family?”

  Her brow wrinkles. I’m sure she’s wondering why the hell I care about that. “Not really. Why?”

  “You ever meet any of his family?” I arch a brow. “An uncle, perhaps?”

  “Uh, I met one of his uncles once.”

  “What was his name?”

  She shakes her head as a frown masks her expression.

  “What was his name?” I demand.

  “Um, Joe. I think. I don’t know. I didn’t really speak to him. He kind of just ignored me and spoke to Euan the whole time. Apparently they’re close.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why are you asking me this? Is the whole family in on this shit?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” I snap, trying to keep my jaw from twitching. She drops her gaze to her lap again. Damn it. I raise my voice one time, and she withdraws. I need to keep a lid on my temper.

  I trail my gaze down to her neck, landing on a necklace with a tiny silver bird attached to it. A fucking hummingbird? I hate those damned birds because they remind me of my mother. At that thought, my eyes automatically drift to the framed picture on the side of my dresser.

  “Did your guy give that to you?” I ask, picking up the tiny charm.

  She stiffens and her breath hitches as my fingers graze the skin at the base of her throat. “No,” she breathes, refusing to look at me. “My sister did.”

  I drop the charm, and swallow. “You have a sister?” Fuck! This is making her a person, Jude. Fucking stop talking to her.

  She looks up slowly, her big, round eyes locking with mine for a moment. I can see the indecision cross her expression before she speaks. “Yeah. Lizzy.”

  “I miss her so much.” She’s talking to herself, not to me.

  “That’s mine in that picture over there, with my mother.” I point to the frame. My pulse picks up and heat washes over my face. Why the hell did I just say that?

  She stares at the photograph for a second before moving to the dresser and picking it up.

  “They’re beautiful. You look so much like your sister, more so than Caleb,” she murmurs.

  I don’t normally talk about them, but the words fall from my lips before I can stop them. “She died fifteen years ago, along with my mom. Caleb was only five at the time.” I tighten my fists and inhale as an uncomfortable feeling settles in my chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “My mum died three years ago. I felt like my whole world imploded. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” I don’t want to feel anything, but her words have a sincerity about them that make it hard not to feel something. I have to look away because her eyes are fucking bottomless, and I feel stripped bare when she looks at me. It’s like she knows the weakness that’s festering inside me, only she doesn’t see it as weakness because, in her world, it isn’t. Having a fucking heart in her world is normal, whereas in mine, it will get you killed.

  “Mine were murdered. And this right here”—I wave my hand around the room—“it’s all I have left. You asked whether I wanted something better for myself; I do. I want to be the man who fucking makes that guy pay back everything he cost me. Call me a criminal if you want.”

  For the first time, she doesn’t look at me with absolute disgust. She nods. “I can understand that.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “If there were someone to blame for my mum’s death, I’d want revenge.”

  I release a tense breath. I can’t do this. This is too real. This is not the situation I need to be in. I fucking feel sorry for her. Fuck! This is the last thing I should be doing, talking to her, connecting over our fucking dead mothers.

  Her eyes meet mine. She looks hurt, and my natural instinct is to console her. No wonder Caleb gave in to her. There’s something about her that makes me instinctively want to protect and shelter her. The longer I study her, the more real she becomes. I know she has a family that’s worried about her; she has a life she’s worked hard for. She has dreams, and I’m about to crush every fucking one of them. I have no choice. I may make my living from gambling, but when it comes to my own life, I don’t take chances. My pulse is throbbing in my neck and my mouth is completely dry. I have to swallow, then force my eyes away from hers. Shit. I just need to get the hell away from her before she makes me pity her even more, or worse, she begins to pity me.

  “Okay, well. I’ll see what I can do about getting you back to your boyfriend as soon as he fucking pays me my money.”

  She presses her lips together, shutting down again. Without another word, I stand and cross the room. This shit just got far too real.

  I’m standing on the porch, mulling over everything when Marney’s truck pulls into the drive. He opens the door and grabs a paper grocery bag from the cab of the truck, whistling as he leisurely makes his way up the stairs. “Smith’s money,” he says, handing me the bag. It’s heavy, about twenty grand. I drop it to the porch and lean over the rail. He glares at me, tilting his head inquisitively. “Little shit hasn’t paid, has he?”

  “Of course not.” I trace my fingernail along a groove in the wooden rail.

  “Mmm.” He thumbs over his stubble. “It’s been four days, Jude. What you waiting on?”

  Shaking my head, I groan. “I don’t fucking know.” I’ve thought about how to handle this for hours. I know when I send someone to collect from Euan, Joe’s guys will most likely be there. And I know that the moment I hand her back to him, I’m fucked. Whether she works for him or not, he will get information from her, and she knows far too much already. She knew too much the moment she set foot in my house.

  Marney leans over the railing next to me. He squints against the sun and
raises his brows. “You can’t treat this differently than you would any other situation. I know you don’t like it, none of us do, but she doesn’t belong here and she’s gonna fuck everything up as soon as she gets back to Joe.” He inhales, then leans in closer to me. “Even if she has no idea why she’s here, Joe will do whatever it takes to find out what he wants. To know what your face looks like...he’ll gut her.”

  We stand in silence, staring out into the woods.

  “Jude, she’s gonna die either way. Think of it that way. If you don’t kill her, Joe will. At least you’d be more humane about it, I’m sure.”

  I swallow because I know he’s right, but the thought of killing her sickens me. I feel this irrational need to protect her, for God knows what reason. If Joe’s intention is to use her, then kill her, surely I should save her? That would fuck up his plans.

  I push off of the railing and pull my phone from my pocket, selecting Euan’s number from the directory.

  It rings several times, and just when I’m about to hang up, he answers. “Hello?”

  “Where’s my fucking money?” I growl through my teeth.

  “I...I’ve got about five thousand, but I can’t...I haven’t been able to get the rest yet, but I will. I can in a few more days, please, just…”

  “Not good enough!” I pause, my mind clouded by thoughts of Joe, my mom and sister...Tor. ”You had three days, and unfortunately the thing of yours closest to me is that girl you so idiotically sent to me.”

  “Don’t hurt her, please!” he pleads like the pathetic piece of shit he is. For fuck’s sake, is he really begging me not to hurt the girl he willingly sent to me, knowing damn well what I’m capable of?

  “For each day that you don’t pay me, I will mutilate a part of that perfect little body of hers. If I don’t have everything in full, plus another ten grand, I will kill her in three days. Got it?”