Playing with Fire

I blinked over at him, momentarily rendered speechless. “That’s your response to me? You ask if I’m thirsty?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pushed to his feet and strode to the olive-green cabinets that perfectly matched the outdated green striped counter. At least this room didn’t boast the same peeling yellow paint as the bedroom. Instead it had green polka-dotted wallpaper.

With the familiarity of a man who knew his way around, he reached inside and withdrew a glass. “Is this your place?” I asked.

“Hardly.”

“Then whose is it? Does the owner know you’re a criminal and holding me against my will?”

“For the moment, this is our place.” He paused, his expression mocking. “I feel warm and fuzzy all of a sudden. I just realized it’s like we’re on a secret honeymoon.”

Honeymoon of horror. “Did you kill someone to get this dump?”

A grin tugged at his lips. “Do you think this poorly of everyone or am I just lucky?” He procured a carton of orange juice from the fridge and poured some into the glass, the pleasant gurgle of cascading liquid the only sound for a moment.

I could have said the obvious: I only think poorly of those who want to neutralize me. Instead I asked, “How long was I out after you stuck me with that needle?” effectively changing the subject. I didn’t really want to know what he’d done with the apartment’s owner.

“A little over twelve hours.” Instead of bringing me the drink, he gazed down at it, his hands circling the sides. I saw only his profile, so I couldn’t read his expression. Not that he’d have one. I’d never met anyone who could mask emotions as quickly as he could. “Would it help if I apologized?” he asked.

I blinked. “For trying to kill me?”

“Trying to neutralize you.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not, but would it help?” he pressed. His gaze remained on the glass.

I didn’t have to think about my answer. “No.”

“Then I won’t bother.”

My jaw tightened, almost snapping. “Why did you spare me? You still haven’t answered that.”

Ignoring the question yet again, he finally turned toward me and closed the distance between us, eyeing me determinedly. “I’ll tell you this. If I’d been totally serious about hurting you, you’d be dead. I could have broken that shield if I’d put any effort into it. I could have sliced your throat while you slept. I could have pumped you full of drugs and done anything I wanted to you.”

I shuddered. Yes, he could have done all of those things. He hadn’t. “Why didn’t you?” How many times would he force me to ask?

He shrugged, but the action lacked animosity. “Open.”

Obediently, I parted my lips. The cool glass touched the edge of my mouth a second before a rush of tangy juice slid down my throat. The vibrant flavor awakened more taste buds. God, I’d never had such a delicious meal.

Rome set the cup aside and spooned up a dripping, syrupy bite of pancake. “That other agency I mentioned before—OASS, the non-government-sanctioned one—won’t hesitate to take you down. They’ll strike first and ask questions later.”

I swallowed, the food suddenly tasting like lead. “While I think it’s great that the man assigned to kill me—”

“Neutralize you, “ he interjected through clenched teeth.

“Whatever. It’s the same thing. And while I—”

“It’s not the same thing. I only meant to knock you out.”

“Yeah, but you wanted to knock me out for, like, ever.”

He uttered a frustrated sigh. “I never planned to kill you.”

Another bite. “Okay, then. Once you knocked me out for most of eternity, what did you plan to do with me?”

His cheeks darkened, and the fine lines around his eyes tightened. “I planned to put you into a coma—uh, deep sleep, and take you to my boss so he could experiment on you, then put you to work for him or lock you up. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

I didn’t know whether he meant the words in truth or in jest. Either way, they sucked. “What made you change your mind? And don’t sidestep the question this time.”

“I checked. You weren’t lying about your dad.” For some reason, he sounded accusatory. “You pay for his stay at the assisted living center, and he can’t leave it because of his regimented medications.” Rome shrugged. “There’s more to it than that, but I’m not going to discuss it with you right now.”

Did I believe him? Did I believe that he now meant me no harm? “If you’re so big on keeping me alive now, prove it. Untie me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But—”

He cut off my words by stuffing more pancake into my mouth. “You have no idea of the damage you can do. Your inexperience is dangerous.”

I forced the food down my throat. “Inexperience? Uh, hello. In case you were wondering, this isn’t a new job I applied for. No one has experience with this.”

His gaze narrowed on me. “You’re likely to get more experience than you’re prepared for if you don’t learn to slow down on the emotional trigger. Have you noticed that bad things happen when you get mad?”

“Are you saying the fire is caused by anger?” I ran my tongue over my teeth. “Well, anyone would be quick to respond with fury if they woke up half-naked with a hired goon at the foot of their bed.”

“Hired goon.” He laughed. “I like that.”

“Excellent, “ I said drily. “Then you’ll probably like Rat Bastard, as well.”

He didn’t lose his amusement. “All I’m saying is that your emotions go unrestrained. You don’t try to tamp them down in the least.”

“I do, too! If I didn’t, I’d have fed you your balls at our first meeting.”

“Ah, that kind of sweet talk really turns me on.” Another grin, this one slower, more leisurely, spread over his features, softening his expression, making him look all the sexier, and giving him a charm I found irresistible.

I stiffened, not liking how attractive I found him. How stupid could I be? Apparently the more time I spent with him, the lower my IQ dropped. My eyes narrowed, and I worked at the cord binding my wrists, doing my best not to let him see my arms wiggle.

“Just so you know, “ he said, feeding me another spoonful of eggs. His countenance lost all traces of humor; his eyes went flat. “I’m not the only hired goon to show up at the foot of your bed. Someone broke into your apartment last night.”

“What?” My back straightened.

“He tried to steal you from me.” Rome’s voice deepened, became utterly menacing. “I knew more like him would come, so I got you out of there as quickly and quietly as possible and brought you here.”

I paused, my blood chilling at the thought of the danger I’d encountered and hadn’t known about. I didn’t doubt for a second that Rome was telling the truth about this. My dreams, I realized, hadn’t really been dreams. They’d been real. Too real. I’d seen a man come at me with a knife.

But he hadn’t killed me because … because … The answer clicked into place. Rome had killed him first. Rome had protected me. Up to this point, I’d been able to use sarcasm and humor to mask my fear; I couldn’t now. This was real, in-your-face death. It couldn’t be undone. Wasn’t pretend.