Only for Ryder’s hand to shoot up, catching it mid-arc.
“Okay,” he said evenly, pulling it out of my grip, “let’s just both calm down.”
I immediately reached for the closest thing, a pillow, and threw it at him.
Ryder didn’t even flinch, the pillow smacking him square inthe face. I was already reaching for the next thing, my fingers closing around a lamp.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warned.
“Fuck you.” I threw it, and this time Ryder ducked, the lamp shattering against the wall behind him. He glanced back at the wreckage, but by the time he returned his attention to me I was already armed with something else and flinging it in his direction.
“Stop throwing shit at me!”
I didn’t stop, frustrated that I’d tied him near the only exit. It left me trapped, so I clumsily lifted the mattress, grabbing for one of the knives.
Ryder was already there, reaching for my wrists and yanking them above my head.
“Help!” I screamed, twisting and kicking out before he muffled a curse.
The knife was yanked from my fingers, and then his arms locked around me, crushing my back to his chest. His other hand clamped over my lips before I could call out again.
“Okay, let’s start this again, shall we?” Ryder’s grip tightened, the heat of his chest pressing through my back like a brand. “I’m trying?—”
I kicked at his feet, using my heel on his toes.
A grunt, “Not to?—”
Twisting awkwardly, I drove my knee upward, only for him to shift at the last second, and I struck his hip instead of the place I was aiming for. Ryder hissed, shoving me until I was pressed between him and the wall, leaving no more room for me to squirm.
“Hurt you,” he finished.
My breathing came in ragged gasps, my adrenaline waning as I struggled to calm my pulse.
“Are you done?” he growled, twisting me once more somy back hit the wall. He loomed, pinning my wrists high above my head with one unyielding hand. His knee wedged between my legs, forcing me up onto my toes, straining for balance.
I spat out a reply, but it was lost against the press of his palm over my mouth.
“Careful, or I’ll think you’re just flirting with… ow!”
He pulled his hand back when I bit him, shaking it as if to ease the slight sting.
“Hel—!” I began, only for fingers to suddenly constrict my throat.
“Fuck me, blondie. You’re really not making this easy,” his voice rumbled, brushing against my cheek like a dark whisper. “Now, are you going to be a good girl and stop trying to hit me with household furnishings, or are we going to have a problem?”
I thought about it a moment before giving him a jerky nod, as much as I could with his grip around my throat.
His fingers tightened a fraction before he eased away, his eyes never leaving mine.
I pressed myself harder against the wall, as if I could disappear into it. “What are you doing here?” I rasped, the sound more of a croak.
“I’m looking for a USB drive.”
“A what?”
“It’s something your mother stole, and my employer wants it back.”
I looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Mum hasn’t stolen anything.”
