Secret Defender

Sydney was a bigger mess. Mud coated her blouse and skin, thanks to the water she’d spilled. A few gobs were in her hair—her newly shampooed and styled hair. Darn it.

When she heard Luke step up on the porch, she moved quickly to give him a wide berth. She saw then that the door did lead to a bathroom. An absurdly tiny one, but at least it had a tub and a door.

“I have some things here for you.”

His voice startled her, even though she knew he was inside. The place was just so damn small, and he was so big. She glanced at the bed again. Only one. A double. She hoped he wasn’t…

“Are you listening?”

She slid him a glance and nodded.

He held a medium-sized black leather bag. As if reading her thoughts, his gaze went briefly to the bed, then back to her. “There are a few shirts and shorts in here and some toiletries. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“How considerate.”

At her sarcasm, his left brow went up. “I’ll get us something to eat in about an hour.”

“You leaving?”

For the first time, his mouth curved slightly, and his gaze lowered. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here all night.”

Sydney swallowed. “There’s only one bed.”

He glanced at it in mock surprise. “So there is.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“Right next to you, darlin’.” His smile broadened as he tossed the bag on the bed. “We’re having sandwiches tonight.” He eyed her with misgiving. “Unless you know how to cook.”

She gritted her teeth. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“You saw it.”

“Can you unlock the handcuffs?”

“Nope.”

“But we’re stuck in the middle of God knows where.” She sounded breathless, afraid. She hated that.

“If you need help, just holler.”

Like hell. She turned away and unzipped the black bag. She took the first shirt on top. It was denim. Not one of his, but brand new, a size small—something he might have bought for her. Next, she pulled out a hairbrush and toothbrush, and wondered if all kidnappers went through this much trouble.

She kept the things away from her wet, muddy blouse, and without looking at him, headed inside the bathroom. The back of the toilet was the only available surface, so she draped the shirt on the doorknob and set the brushes near the sink faucet. When she tried to swing the door shut, something blocked it from closing.

Poking her head around, she saw the toe of Luke’s boot pressed to the bottom of the door. Her gaze slowly traveled up the worn denim covering his leg, to the white shirt he’d partially unbuttoned, to the exposed wedge of smooth muscled chest, to the strong, square, stubbled jaw.

She finally met his eyes just as he said, “Leave it open.”

Chapter Three

Sydney stared back at him. “What did you say?”

“Leave the door open.”

“Why?”

“In case you get stupid again.”

“I’ve learned my lesson.” At his implacable expression, her heart pounded and her palms grew damp. He couldn’t possibly expect her to leave herself that vulnerable. “There’s only one small window in here—”

“Big enough for you to crawl out.”

“It’s too narrow.”

He ran his gaze down her body, lingering around her hips, studying her every curve until her insides trembled. “The door stays open.”

“I can’t go to the bathroom with you out here and— I can’t do it.”

“We’re going to be here a week. Get over it.”

“A week?” She swallowed, but her mouth was so dry the act was painful. “And then what?” She tried another painful swallow. “Are you going to kill me?”

His brows came down in impatience. “I already said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Wh-what…” She stopped and took a quick breath, despising how weak she sounded. “What are you going to do with me?”

He studied her a moment. “Nothing, as long as you cooperate.”

“But—”

“No more talking.”

She had no choice. She had to believe he wouldn’t hurt her, as foolish or naive as that seemed. Backing up, she caught her bedraggled reflection in the mirror above the sink. Mud smeared her cheek. She looked at him again. He had smudges on his shirt and dirt in his hair. “Can’t you just bolt the window from the outside?”

He laughed. It was more a grunt. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in any of your goods.”

He walked away as if the matter were closed, and she stood watching him, horrified that his demeaning remark stung. Anger simmered with the fear churning in her stomach. At least he’d moved away from her.

“By the way.” At the kitchen counter, he began unloading a paper sack. “If I so much as hear the door creak, I’ll take it off the hinges.”

“Why are you being so cruel?”

He looked sharply at her.

She cleared her throat, hoping to sound more assertive. “You already have me. It’s unnecessary to be so…unkind.”

Frowning, he shoved the sack aside. “Cruel?”

“Why do I need to be handcuffed and have the door open? Are you that afraid of me?”

His sudden bark of laughter startled her. “All right.” He dug into his jeans’ pocket, and her gaze helplessly drew to the worn denim straining across his fly.

She blinked and raised her gaze, unsettled by the jittery feeling in her tummy.

He produced a small key and started toward her. Her first impulse was to run; instead, she stepped outside and held up her bound hands, anxious to be free of the cuffs. He scanned the front of her muddy, wet shirt before inserting the key. “Do anything foolish again, and I’ll—” His gaze fastened on the inside of her wrists. “What the hell?”

He quickly unlocked the cuffs and picked up her right hand, turning it over to expose the ugly rash spreading across her skin. “These cuffs weren’t that tight.”

His eyes met hers and she was amazed to see concern softening his expression. He looked back down at her wrist, then picked up her other hand and inspected the reddening skin there.

“I’m allergic to some kinds of metal,” she said, alarmed at how close he was, how gently he soothed the surrounding skin with the pad of his thumb.

He lifted his gaze to hers, a mixture of suspicion and confusion darkening his eyes. “You should have told me.”

She shrugged, but hope bubbled inside her. He really didn’t intend to hurt her. He wouldn’t be concerned otherwise.

Abruptly, he dropped her hands and jerked his head toward the bathroom. “Go ahead. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“You won’t—” She cut herself off. It was silly to ask him not to peek.

After giving her a long, hard look, he turned away.

Sydney hurried back inside the bathroom and almost closed the door out of habit. She stopped herself, convinced he’d have no qualms about doing exactly what he said he would. Unable to resist a final glance, she saw him busy unloading the grocery sack, facing away from her.

She’d started to unbutton her blouse when she realized that she needed a bath. Mud was caked and drying in some uncomfortable places. But with the door open? Not in this lifetime.

“Luke?” Saying his name felt odd. Too intimate.

“Yeah?”

“I need to take a bath.”

“Good idea.”

Anger coiled in her belly. She hated having to practically ask his permission to do something so personal, and then get an editorial. “I can’t do it with the door open.”

His sigh was loud, impatient. “Too bad.”

She could get around a bath by washing at the sink. Certainly not her preference but under the circumstances…

“And don’t think about skipping the bath. I don’t want you messing up the sheets the first night here.”

Tempted to give him an obscene hand sign she’d never given anyone in her life, she gritted her teeth. He didn’t have to know what she was doing in here. She’d use the tub, all right, by sitting on the edge…with her clothes on. She kicked aside the bath rug and leaned over to turn on the faucet. It wouldn’t budge. She sat, hoping for better leverage. Still no luck.

“It’s a little tricky.” Luke’s voice directly behind her made her jump. “Let me get it.”

She started to move out of the way, but he reached over her. His shoulder brushed her breast and she stiffened. Oblivious to the contact, he worked at trying to get the spigot to turn. Muscles corded and bunched on his arm. She could smell his heat, feel the powerful energy he radiated; to her absolute shame, she had an undeniable feminine reaction.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to move.”

She abruptly raised her gaze to his. An odd little gleam lurked there. Amusement, perhaps? She took a deep, steadying breath and nearly shoved him aside. “I was trying to do that before you crowded me.” Shoving, however, would require touching. She straightened her spine. “Excuse me, please.”

One side of his mouth lifted as he stepped back and motioned her around him. “That’s far enough,” he said, when she backed out of the door. “I’d hate to have to cuff you to the towel rack.”

That made her plant her feet, and she absently rubbed her reddened wrists. She didn’t want those cuffs on again. She’d cooperate all right, unless the perfect opportunity to escape presented itself. God, she hoped she wasn’t wrong, but she truly believed he wouldn’t harm her. This guy didn’t seem to be any ordinary thug. Her intuition told her otherwise.

He finally got the faucet turned, and water trickled slowly into the tub. It was clear, as though someone had run it recently. Luke turned the spigot some more, and the water pressure increased.

“It’s going to take about a minute to warm up.” He straightened and moved back. She ducked out of his way. He looked over at her, his gaze roaming her body. “It should be ready by the time you undress.”

It wasn’t an insolent look, or even a suggestive one, but it gave her goose bumps. “Thank you.”

“When you’re done, I’ll take my shower while the water’s still hot,” he said, and she must have shown some kind of reaction because the amusement was back in his eyes.

She stepped around him to go back into the bathroom and then turned to look pointedly at him.

“You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” he said with a mocking smile and headed toward the kitchen area.

Sydney resisted temptation and kept her mouth shut. She scooted as far away from the door as possible and unbuttoned her blouse. Across her chest there were several small red blotches. Nerves did that to her sometimes. Sitting in cool water would help, but having to take off all her clothes with an open door would probably produce another crop of hives.

Quickly, she shrugged out of her blouse and slid off her skirt, casting several glances out the door. Luke was nowhere in sight. Even so, she left her bra and panties on. There wasn’t much to the scraps of peach-colored silk and lace; wet, they’d be totally transparent. Still, it made her feel less vulnerable to keep them on.

She adjusted the spigot to keep the water from getting too warm, and when it tested perfect, she splashed water on her face and chest, letting the tepid water soothe her fevered skin.

“Are you decent?”

Luke’s voice was entirely too close and she looked around for something to cover herself. “No!” Her blouse was just out of reach. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

“I forgot to give you a towel.”

“Leave it outside the door.”

“I’ll toss it on the sink.”

“No, just—”

His arm appeared, and panicked, she slid down into the claw foot tub. But he merely laid the navy blue towel on the corner of the sink and then withdrew. She couldn’t see the rest of him, but knowing he was that close was unnerving.

“Did I leave you soap?”

God, couldn’t he just go! She straightened a little to check the sink and found nothing. The soap dish for the tub had…

She screamed.

“Sydney?” Luke came through the door like a rocket. “Sydney?”

“Get out!”

He stood over her, his gaze sweeping her body. “What the hell is wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her crossed arms seemed useless under his piercing blue eyes. “It’s a spider, but it’s dead. Go.”

“What’s that?” He stared at the blotches on her chest.

“Nothing. Please leave.”

His eyes met hers, and she was surprised to see uncertainty etched in his face. “You need something for it?”

She blinked. This might be the opportunity she needed. “Yes…medicine. I’ll get horribly sick without it.”

His brows furrowed slightly, and then his expression relaxed. “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re a lousy liar.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll give you ten minutes. And then I come in after you.”

His gaze lowered to her crossed arms again before he turned and walked out.

LUKE CUT INTO the tomato and nearly took the tip of his thumb off. He cursed loudly and threw aside the knife. Meat and cheese were all anyone needed in a damn sandwich, anyway. If it was good enough for him, it was good enough for Sydney Wainwright.

She wasn’t what he’d expected. She didn’t look or sound or smell rich. Maybe because she’d always been rolling in dough. Not like the Hollywood nouveau riche he was used to. The kind that had to let everyone know they had more than you. She hadn’t even complained about being allergic to the cuffs. That had shocked the hell out of him.

No matter. He was being paid well for this job and that’s all he cared about. After he collected the other half of his fee, he’d think about a short trip to Brazil. Settling old scores always helped him to sleep better.

He finished making the sandwiches and sealed them in plastic. Next, he got out a couple of cold colas and a beer. Sydney had been in the tub for almost fifteen minutes. He really ought to yank her out so she’d know he meant business, but he hadn’t counted on her breaking out in a nervous rash.

He swore to himself. That better be all it was. His gaze wandered toward the bathroom at the same moment she stepped out of the tub. He knew because he saw her reflection in the mirror as her head came up. Taking a pull of beer, he started to turn away, but caught a glimpse of her bare breasts.

Small, but round and full, they stood out firm, crowned by two large rosy nipples. They were damn near perfect. He swallowed and told himself to look away. It was the decent thing to do.

But he stared, until his body began to tighten and blood rushed to his groin. That jerked some sense into him, and he turned away with a vicious curse. He downed the rest of the bottle of beer and then splashed some cold water on his face from the kitchen sink.

What the hell was wrong with him? He knew better than to let his guard down, to let personal feelings separate him from good sense. Sydney Wainwright wasn’t a woman. She was a job. And he wasn’t about to screw himself out of a bundle just because he was horny.

“Luke?”

He pushed away from the sink and turned around. “What?”

At his snarl, she jumped. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup and she looked young. Innocent. The denim shirt he’d picked up for her was a size small and still a little big on her. “I’m done in the bathroom.”

“Good.” He glanced around for a place to put her while he showered. “Come here.”

She hesitated, her eyes widening slightly, and then she took a step toward him. “What?”

He tested the handle of the refrigerator. Too flimsy. The microwave wouldn’t work either. If she had a mind to, she could pick the whole thing up and take off.

He swept a gaze around the rest of the room. “Looks like I’m going to have to tie you to the bedpost.”

“Excuse me?”

“While I shower.”

“You’re going to put the cuffs on me again?” She started rubbing her wrists.

“Did I say that?” His mood had gone south, and he still had one hell of a long week ahead of him. “Get over there.”

She cast a sidelong glance at the bed and then looked back at him with those big doe eyes. “Why the bed?”

He pulled out the long red scarf he’d found in the closet. “Move.”

She stumbled backward, her fearful gaze fastened on the scarf. “What’s that for?”

Luke had a good mind to scare the daylights out of her, but the way she visibly swallowed and the heaving of her chest told him she was frightened enough. “You want me to use this or the cuffs?”

Her face relaxed. “The scarf.”

“Then move.”

“Look.” She pointed to the only kitchen cabinet. “Why can’t you use that?”

He shook the handle. It seemed sturdy enough, and unlike the cuffs, the scarf could slip through it. “Okay.”

She slowly approached and held out a hand. It shook slightly. He ignored her trembling and grabbed her other hand and wove the scarf between her wrists.

“You’re tying them both up?” She tried to pull back.

He tied her to the handle, and then gave an extra tug to be sure the scarf was tight enough. “You think I should leave you a free hand?”

“Just so I can have some water.”

“Right.” He started unbuttoning his shirt, and her gaze flew to his chest. “You can have all the water you want once I’m through.”

“Through?” Her voice cracked.

“With my shower.”

“Oh.” She leaned a hip against the counter, her relief so plain he almost smiled.

“Sydney?” He lifted her chin with his forefinger.

Her eyes widened.

“Don’t think about trying to escape.”

She shook her head and jerked away from his touch.

“Good girl.” He shrugged out of his shirt. Her gaze immediately went to the undone snap of his Levi’s, and she blinked.

Unable to resist, he started unzipping his fly before he turned away. A bright blush filled her cheeks and she quickly averted her eyes.

Laughing, he headed for the bathroom.

Sydney was so angry she almost forgot to breathe. The heat stinging her cheeks no longer had anything to do with embarrassment. She waited until he’d disappeared into the bathroom, and then she started twisting her hands like crazy.

It was no use. He’d tied the scarf too tightly, and she was succeeding only in making her skin raw. She sank against the counter and stared at the open bathroom door. She figured Luke had already gotten into the tub, and if she didn’t free herself now, it would be too late. But then she caught his reflection in the mirror.

He was turned toward the tub so she could only see his profile. The unguarded pose fascinated her and she stared with new interest at the thoughtful furrow of his brow as he appeared to be fiddling with something. The showerhead, probably. It hadn’t looked as though it had been used in a while.

When he reached up to make an adjustment, Syd got quite a view of his lower chest and stomach, the arrow of hair pointing lower. The same fluttery feeling she’d had earlier returned to her belly. Luke wasn’t in any better shape than her personal trainer, but Larry sure never made her feel kind of squishy.

Maybe because Larry was gay.

At least he wasn’t a kidnapper.

She shuddered at the reminder, but still kept her gaze trained on Luke as he stepped back and unconsciously rubbed his chest and then his beard-roughened jaw. He leaned toward the mirror to look at his face.

His eyes slowly met hers.

She heard his curse even though his reflection promptly disappeared. Obviously he knew she was watching him. A second later, he came through the door, a white towel wrapped around his hips, thunder in his face.

Sydney tried not to cower. “I wasn’t watching you,” she said, as he roughly yanked the scarf loose. “I swear I wasn’t. I was only—”

She frowned. If she could see him from this position in the kitchen, then he obviously had seen… “You bastard!”

Amusement briefly replaced the scowl on his face, and then he dragged her to the bed and tied one of her wrists to the post. She didn’t bother struggling. He’d already tied the knot tighter than necessary, enough to make her skin sting.

He still said nothing, but by the way he clenched his jaw, she knew he was pretty damn angry. Too bad. She wasn’t thrilled, either. Who knows how much he saw?

Finally, he stood back. The towel had slipped a little and Sydney had trouble keeping her gaze raised…until he pointed a finger in her face. “Don’t move. Not one muscle, or I’ll have you trussed tighter than a whore’s corset.”

She shrunk back and shook her head. “I won’t,” she whispered, and then waited silently for him to leave.

Her heart still pounded and she tried to calm herself by recalling what he’d said. A whore’s corset? What an odd term. Made her wonder about his slight accent again. Maybe he was Cajun, but if so, what did he have to do with the unions in Dallas?

It took her a good minute to realize he’d only tied one of her wrists. Probably because he’d been so angry. Or maybe he thought she was too frightened to try anything. He wouldn’t be too far off the mark on that account…if she weren’t so desperate.

She rotated her wrist and winced with pain. It didn’t matter. She had to try. Slowly, she reached up with her other hand while keeping an eye on the bathroom door. The binding was so tight it was impossible for her to slip even one finger between the fabric.

Finally, after two broken fingernails, she worked her little finger into the knot. Slowly, painfully, with no awareness of how much time passed, she began to loosen it. Twice she had to slow down her breathing and force herself to concentrate. Freedom seemed so close she could almost taste it.

With one more thrust of her finger, the knot loosened and she quickly freed her hand while trying to sit up.

“Shit!”

Her gaze flew toward the bathroom.

Luke stood naked, his tanned body damp and glistening. She sucked in a breath and tried to scramble off the bed. But he was too quick.

He lunged across the mattress, caught her around the waist and flipped her onto her back. And then he swung one of his powerful, muscled legs over her hips and straddled her while he readied the scarf.

His sex lay heavy in the valley between her ribs, half resting against her left breast.

She swallowed, closed her eyes, and prayed.

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