Page 30 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

I wouldn’t say I was proud of the thoughts that flashed across my mind when she dropped down to her knees in front of me. But I was quickly distracted by her hilariously horrible knot tying.

There was no rhyme or reason to it. She just looped and tightened and knotted at random.

And she couldn’t tighten anything properly with her busted wrist. But I had to give her credit, it would be significantly harder to get out of the rope than the zip ties.

“There,” she said, a little breathless when she got to her feet and backed away from me. “No more escaping. No more creeping around, going out to eat, showering. No food or water. Not until you tell me what you’ve done to my father.”

“I’d be happy to. If I did anything to him. I didn’t.”

“Fine. Then one of your lackeys or whatever did it for you. But I know you’re responsible.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because he had your name—”

Her voice was rising toward a scream when there was a rapping at the door, making her gasp and jump.

Her gaze cut to mine, pretty eyes accusatory.

Like I’d set this up.

In a way, I had.

Leo just had impeccable timing.

When neither of us answered him, I heard the key in the door, then saw the knob turn.

“I brought bagel—” Leo started as he stepped into the apartment.

Caitlin whipped around, eyes huge, knife still in hand.

Then, without a word, without grabbing any of her shit, she ran out the doorway.

Leo’s gaze slid to me, taking it all in.

“Can’t quite figure out if I interrupted something consensual or not.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Caitlin

Oh, God.

Okay.

Jesus.

So that just happened.

It was safe to say I was never going to have a future in crime.

My captor got free of his bindings twice. He’d walked around while I slept on the job. He—oh, geez—he was who covered me in blankets both times.

I mean, really, where had my head been?

Of course he was getting up.

To eat, drink, use the bathroom, shower, brush his teeth, spray on that delicious damn cologne.