“What?” he asked, exhausted from hauling the wood. “Oh, you fuckin’ soft idiot. She’s right in there, isn’t she?”
“It was freezing back there,” he shot back.
Ezra entered the cabin from his childhood, carrying a bundle of wood like he had done so many times in the past. Willow was seated in front of the stove and briefly glanced back.
“Why isn’t she tied to the chair? And why are her hands in front?” He marched over and tossed the wood to the floor.
Their captive shot to her feet as he advanced and hurried away from him. Ezra followed, until she was pressed against the wall. He liked cornering her like this. Not a hint of fear on her face, only defiance.
“I’m not going to try anything stupid,” she said. “I just have a messed up shoulder and tying my hands back was killing me.”
He rested a hand against the wall above her head, towering over her. “Trying to fuck with us would be a bad idea, sweetheart.”
She let out a frustrated breath and shifted on her feet. “Pull my coat off and look for yourself.”
Oh, he would. He wanted to peel off every single thing she was wearing.
Ezra took the zipper of her purple jacket and slid it down slowly, feeling warmth stir inside him. She bit her lip as something changed in her expression. Was she turned on, too? Who the fuck was this girl?
He pushed the coat down off her shoulders, his gloved hands brushing over her as he did. It couldn’t come all the way off since her wrists were bound.
“Left side,” she said, her tone changing as she looked away. Maybe she was embarrassed?
Ezra lifted the left sleeve of her t-shirt. Tattoos of animal skeletons and flowers covered her bicep, stopping at her elbow. There was an indentation in her skin—a long scar. He pushed the sleeve all the way up onto her shoulder, his eyes tracing the injury as it broke into more jagged marks that covered her inked skin. The tattoos stopped right at her collar. She wasn’t covering the scar with them, they were part of the design.
“The fuck happened?” he asked, voice husky.
“None of your business,” she replied indignantly. “I just needed you to see I’m not making shit up.”
He brushed his thumb over the scar. “Was it the person you owe money to?” Davidiuk really was a sick bastard if he would do this to a woman. Though, he was still only working under a suspicion. Maybe she wasn’t involved in their world at all.
Willow rolled her eyes. “I don’t owe anyone anything.”
Ryker stepped up, trapping her even more so against the wall. “That’s not what it sounded like when we had you on your knees,” he teased.
He wanted her on her knees again for them, but not to stick a gun in her face. For some reason he couldn’t help thinking the idea of them taking turns with her mouth would be hot.
Why the fuck am I like this?
A hint of red tinted her cheeks, but that was the only indication his words had made an impact. She cocked an eyebrow. “Still. None of your business.”
A low chuckle escaped Ezra. “Maybe we should make it our business.” He leaned in, catching a hint of the fruity shampoo she used.
“And how would you do that?” she asked defiantly.
He reached out and cupped her chin. They were so close to each other, it would be so easy to kiss her if there wasn’t a mask separating them. “Did you forget that you’re ours until we take you home?”
Her breath quickened at the proximity and her eyes darted to his covered mouth. It was too bad he’d met her this way.
No one deserves to get caught up in my baggage.
But Willow wasn’t some innocent little thing. She had some kind of past and he was going to pry it out of her eventually.
He released her chin and pulled her coat back up, noting the goosebumps that had prickled across her skin. As he started to guide her back to the chair she said, “I have to pee.”
Ezra groaned and switched directions to the bathroom. It was a good thing they hadn’t gotten stuck here in the winter. No running water would make this even more nightmarish.
Once at the door, she turned. “You’re not going to untie my hands?”
