“And right now?”
“I find honesty more efficient.”
“Honesty?” I laugh once, sharp and humorless. “You drugged me, dragged me here, put me in a robe, and now you’re holding me on your lap while threatening to keep me from my sister’s children.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I know.Shit.
His eyes sharpen, narrowing, his look intense enough to make me gulp and momentarily stop breathing.
Damn it.
“Your sister’s children,” he repeats.
I force my face into confusion a heartbeat too late. “I —”
“I heard what you said. Don’t lie to me.”
“Then you misheard it.”
“No.” His voice is cold, firm. “I didn't.”
His grip on my wrists doesn’t change, but the feeling of it does. A second ago, he was enjoying this. Now he is working through new information. Reading my mistake, arranging it beside whatever else he already knows, deciding how much of the picture has filled in.
My stomach turns.
“What do you know about me?” I ask.
His gaze holds mine. “Enough.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I know who you are, Maya Reeves.”
The sound of my full name in his voice makes the room colder. He feels the shift in me. Of course he does, this close, how could he not? My wrists are still in his hand, my body still trapped across his lap, every betrayal of pulse and muscle too close to hide.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he says. “Undercover.”
My mouth goes dry, and I feel the blood leave my face.He knows.
“You should look less surprised,” he says. “You weren’t as subtle as you think.”
“I was subtle enough to get on that stage.”
“Yes. And my buying you is the only reason you are alive right now.”
I go very still. “What does that mean?”
“I dislike cops.”
“Shocking.” Despite the perilous situation, I can’t contain my sarcasm.
“I dislike federal agents more,” he adds, his face flat, eyes suddenly cold.
I gulp again, stumbling over my next words, attempting to mask the sudden panic in my chest with more sarcasm. “I’ll try not to take that personally.”
“You should.” His thumb moves once over the inside of my wrist, directly where my pulse has lost every argument with self-control. “I considered putting a bullet in you on the service drive when we first arrived.”
“To be fair, I considered putting one in you first.”
