Page 10 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

And the voice that came out of the person holding it was undeniably feminine.

“Get inside,” she demanded.

Gun aside, I almost wanted to laugh at her sweet, honeyed voice. Because what criminal sounded like that?

Her delicate finger slid to the trigger.

And with the way she was shaking like a goddamn leaf, it was very possible that she could accidentally squeeze it without meaning to.

I took a step back.

She moved forward.

“The chair. Sit down on the chair.”

Hm.

Yeah.

Well, she was definitely no pro.

The shaking aside, no actual criminal would want me to move closer to the table where I had a steak knife sitting near my plate.

I moved backward through my apartment as she moved inside, kicking the door closed behind her.

My apartment quickly filled with the scent of steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli.

She actually had my food delivery. It wasn’t some kind of decoy bag.

So, what? She was waiting outside, saw the delivery guy, and took it? Was that why it took so long? Because she was trying to talk herself into coming up here and holding me up.

“There’s a couple grand in the kitchen cabinet,” I told her. That was playing it down. There was a solid ten grand up there, dropped off by an associate the day before that I hadn’t gotten around to splitting up to add to my stash and the kick-up I owed.

“Sit down,” she demanded, voice starting to tremble as hard as her body.

Huh.

So she didn’t want money.

I had a gun in a holster taped under my dining table if I needed it. But I didn’t try to reach for it. I went ahead and dropped my ass into the seat instead.

The woman dropped the food on the table then reached to pull one of the straps off her shoulders. Then fumbled with the gun to pass it to her other hand so she could remove the other strap.

Then I watched the backpack hit the table near my dinner.

She fumbled to undo the zipper and hold the gun, making a little grumble of frustration escape her.

Until, finally, she reached into the backpack and came back with a set of handcuffs.

She stepped closer, her movements jerky.

I could overtake her at any second, but I found myself sitting there as she moved behind me, slapping one cuff around my wrist and attaching it to the chair.

I had to press my lips together to keep from smiling as the bracelet nearly fell off of my hand, making me need to spread my thumb out to make sure it didn’t slip right off.

The second cuff wasn’t as loose, but with a little effort, I could squeeze my hand out.

But she was oblivious to this as she moved around me, exhaled hard, and whipped off her hat.