The Crime of Love 1 Read online

  Feeling defeated, I slowly opened the door to find Mac waiting just outside it, arms crossed over his chest, huge and immoveable, and clearly not happy I’d taken so long. “Turn right around,” he said, twirling his finger at me vaguely.

  I frowned. “I’m done. Thanks, but—”

  He took me by the shoulders and turned me around, frog-marching me back into the bathroom, which was barely big enough for the both of us.

  “Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the floor under the pedestal sink.

  My heart was pounding. What on earth was this? “Excuse me?”

  “Turns out you’re a flight risk.” He shrugged, and gave me a gentle push. I sat down, my back against the wall beside the sink, trying not to think about the last time the floor had been cleaned.

  “Turns out you’re a pathological liar and a criminal,” I snapped, and closed my mouth abruptly when he took a pair of handcuffs off the back of his belt. He couldn’t be serious!

  When he crouched down to take my hands in his, fastening one cuff before threading the chain connecting them behind the sink pipe, and then fastening the other, I knew he was serious, and I was furious. He hesitated for a few moments before completing the task, which did little to calm my temper.

  “You have some nerve. The cops are going to bust your ass,” I hissed, and he tilted his head to one side, an almost regretful look on his face.

  Taking my chin between his fingers, he leaned closer, and his voice was like velvet, soft and a little sinful. “It’s all very simple. I need to make sure you don’t make a fuss and stay quiet while I’m out,” he said. “But I can’t trust you now, so unfortunately I need to do…I need to do this.”

  He stuttered the last part, as if shamed, but I didn’t feel bad for him. He obviously didn’t feel badly enough because here he was cuffing me to the damn sink. My eyes widened in shock, and so did my mouth, just wide enough for him to take a bandanna out of his back pocket and thread it between my lips. I had to bend my head so he could tie it, and we were so close together, it seemed like there was nothing but me and Mac left in the world, my head against his sturdy chest, his powerful legs bent on the floor, his scent all around me.

  “Ugh! Let me go!” I screeched, but everything came out muffled.

  When he was done, he tilted my head back and brushed his thumb so gently against my jaw, a useless, frustrated tear rolled down my cheek to meet it.

  “Behave,” he said softly.

  And then he shut the door, leaving me alone with my troubling thoughts.

  ~

  “All right, all I got is microwaved burritos,” Mac said as he opened the bathroom door. I glared up at him, and rattled the handcuffs against the pipe for good measure.

  He unlocked them and I flexed my wrists while he untied the gag. When he was done, I said, “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “The only place open was a minimart.” He threaded the cuffs through one of his belt loops and shrugged. “Trust me, it wasn’t my first choice either.”

  He hadn’t been gone more than a half hour, but I was still stiff when I clambered up from the floor. After hours in the car, I guess it wasn’t surprising, but it made me long for home—for my big comfortable bed with its heavenly comforter and the mounds of pillows, especially. For hugs from my mom and Teddy, and my dad’s calm, reassuring manner.

  Mac was seated on the edge of the bed with his food when I went into the main room. Mine was piled politely on the table beside the bed, and just the sight of it was enough to make me ravenous. I hadn’t even eaten much for lunch, and that was hours and hours ago.

  “Try some, it’s not half bad,” Mac said, taking another bite.

  “I’m not eating,” I snapped, and at least he had the grace to look a little sheepish.

  He’d also brought me a big iced tea, a banana, and some peanut butter crackers, though, my favorite.

  On the other hand, he had gagged me and handcuffed me to a sink. It was a no win situation whichever way I looked at it. Although, when I looked at Mac…I wished I could dampen those traitorous sparks of attraction to him somehow, but they were still simmering inside. Little flames licking at me, while burning me at the same time. Discomposed by my conflicting thoughts, I felt my anger rising to the surface.

  “Eat something,” Mac said gruffly, nodding toward my pile of food. “I don’t want you passing out on me.”

  I couldn’t help the sharp retort that sprung to mind as I peeled the banana. “When they catch you, you’re not gonna get out for a long time.”

  “Enough, Paige.” He glared at me. His fingers were white-knuckled around a perspiring bottle of Coke, and it was a strange satisfaction to know I could make him angry. “I didn’t want it to be like this, but you didn’t give me a choice.”

  “You could have chosen to mind your own fucking business and not kidnap me,” I said pointedly. “That would have been a great choice.”

  “I told you, Paige, your dad—”

  I held up a hand, stemming the flow of explanations. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? Just don’t bother. You’re a criminal and sooner or later you’ll get exactly what you deserve.” Saying it made me even angrier. “Is your name even Mac?”

  He glanced up sharply. “It is.”

  “What kind of criminal gives his real name to a kidnapping victim? Are you that dense?”

  “You’re a real smart-ass, you know that?”

  “Yes, and you’re just the nicest guy, aren’t you? Oh, eat this, Paige. I wasn’t given a choice, Paige. Fuck you! I don’t care if you gag me or hurt me, I’m going to tell you exactly how I feel, you smug motherfucker!” I cowered, realizing that perhaps I’d gone too far.

  “Feisty,” he said, chuckling.

  “Go ahead. Gag me. Tie me up.”

  He paused. “Look, I don’t want to tie you up, Paige.”

  “Why not? You’re a criminal, isn’t that what you do?”

  “There two sides to every story, Paige.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no way to justify being a criminal, ever.” I put down my iced tea, suddenly exhausted, overwhelmed and scared. “The guy I met, the guy who was so charming and sexy, he never would have done this. Ever. You tied me to the sink. Y-y-you gagged me.”

  He was still looking at me, and I watched as he swallowed down some response, his throat working overtime. His eyes were brooding and the nervous twitch of his lips radiated his feelings. Was it anger? Betrayal? I didn’t know, and I had to keep reminding myself that I didn’t care. Whatever Mac had seemed like back at my house, I knew now he was a criminal. He had no interest in me. It was all nothing but a masquerade to lure me in. How could I have been so stupid?

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, Paige,” he said finally, his voice gruffer than ever. “Just remember that.”

  I looked away, concentrating on eating my crackers. I felt him watching me, though, and when I glanced up he was staring at the burrito I hadn’t eaten. I handed it to him with a sigh, and he nodded wordlessly.

  When there was nothing left to eat, Mac stood up and gathered the trash neatly into the plastic minimart bag. Dropping it in the trash can, he straightened up and pointed his thumb toward the bathroom. “Go if you have to. Need to get some sleep.”

  It was humiliating, being ordered around like a child, but if it was my last chance to use the bathroom before the morning, I wasn’t about to argue. I just wished I had a toothbrush.

  When I came out again, he’d turned down the bed and I stared at him. “I’m not sleeping with you.” It sounded so blunt, even when all I meant was sharing the same bed, but the words were already out.

  “Your choice.” He shrugged, and I could tell he was still angry about the things I’d said to him before. “Have a seat, then.”

  Did he really mean the single chair in the room, a straight-backed horror that was tucked under the desk/dresser combination? He raised an eyebrow, his arms folded over his chest again, daring me to argue.
/>   “There’s plenty of room here for both of us, Paige,” he said, motioning to the expanse of mattress.

  “No, thank you,” I snapped, and pulled out the chair roughly. The seat wasn’t even padded. Biting my bottom lip, I sat down gingerly, all too aware of the slightly sticky wood against my bare thighs.

  “Have it your way,” Mac said, and I couldn’t help feeling that he was smirking at me, having way too much fun with how uncomfortable I was bound to be. “Give me your hands.”

  My eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

  He shook his head. “I’m really not, Paige. I want to sleep, and I need to know you’re not going anywhere.”

  There was nothing to say to that. I held out my wrists, furious with him all over again. For a moment, I thought about being handcuffed to the bathroom sink.

  And yet, when I think about all the things a strange man could have done to me, hours and miles away from home…I shuddered, as I felt the second cuff click into place. He had cuffed my wrists straight behind me, each hand fastened to the back of the chair, the chain stretched between them.

  “Comfortable?”

  I resisted the urge to swear at him, and looked away instead.

  “Sleep well,” he said, and I could hear the note of laughter in his voice as he climbed onto the bed and turned off the light.

  For at least an hour I sat there with the sounds of his deep, even breaths coming from across the room, and counted ways I would make him pay. When I ran out of ideas, I turned to coming up with horrible names to call him.

  Sometime after that, though, I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, the floor was rushing toward me. I landed with a loud thud, and the chair struck the back of my head so hard, I jumped, instinctively—and uselessly—trying to put my hands out in front of me. “Shit!”

  Mac bolted upright, grunting, “Paige? What the hell?”

  I didn’t bother to answer, waiting for him to turn the light on and see the evidence for himself. My head was throbbing, my wrists were numb, and my left knee was carpet-burned, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.

  Light flooded the room a second later, and I blinked.

  “What did you do?” Mac said, bending over me.

  I knew growling at him wouldn’t help, so I simply waited until he unlocked the handcuffs. Even then, my ears were ringing and the pain in my head was so sharp, I felt a little sick. I managed to work my way into a sitting position, but it seemed like that was as far as I could go at the moment. I couldn’t help it—the tears started falling, hot on my gritty cheeks.

  “Come on, let’s get you up,” Mac said softly, and slipped one arm around my waist and the other behind my knees. He set me down on the bed, and handed me a tissue while he prodded gently at the back of my skull.

  “You’re gonna be all right,” he said. When I looked up at him, furious, he added, “I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

  I sniffled and wiped my cheeks, wincing at my numb wrists. Mac sat down next to me, taking one hand between his and softly rubbing the feeling back into it. When he was done, I let him take the other, too. He was amazingly gentle for a man his size, and as his fingers slowly massaged feeling back into my wrists, I couldn’t help relaxing a little bit. At least it seemed like Mac would never hurt me purposely.

  “Climb in,” Mac said after a few minutes. I swallowed nervously as I looked at the bed, and he gave me a half-smile. “You can have it. Get some sleep.”

  I didn’t know whether to trust him, but I was so exhausted and sore all over, the bed was too tempting to deny. I snuggled down on my side, resting the unbruised side of my head on the pillows, and when Mac pulled the blankets over me a moment later, I murmured, “Thank you.”

  His gaze held mine for a moment before he reached out to turn out the light, and I could have sworn he looked sorry for what had happened. But he didn’t say anything.

  I heard him righting the chair, and the muffled drag of its feet across the carpet. Was he pushing it under the desk again? Where was he going to sleep?

  A moment later, something heavy thudded against the thick metal motel room door, and I lifted my head just far enough to look. In the faint stripe of light that came in between the curtains, I could just make him out, propped up against the door, his head tilted to one side and his eyes already closed.

  For a moment, he looked more like a little boy playing soldier than a grown man holding a woman hostage in a motel room, and my heart ached. Who was he, really? And what was he planning to do with me?

  Loathing him was enjoyable but thinking of answers was pointless and stressful. Instead, I fell asleep moments later, and dreamed of a cowboy who rode into town in a black hat and took me away.

  ~

  “Rise and shine, angel eyes.”

  I jolted awake, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles, and squinted up at Mac. He was dressed in a clean shirt and different jeans. He looked freshly showered and annoyingly awake. The blanket was beside me and Mac was unashamedly admiring my rear end.

  “God, you’re going to ruin me,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re on the job, remember? Act like it.”

  Man, I needed coffee. I sat up, dragging the sheet with me—the halter top of my dress had come loose in the night somehow, and the last thing I wanted to do was flash him. “Do you mind?” I raised my eyebrows pointedly until he sighed and turned around. I could have sworn he rolled his eyes when he turned.

  Once my halter was securely tied, I climbed out of bed, half expecting Mac to cuff me to something. Instead, he nodded as I headed toward the bathroom, and I decided to take advantage of his good mood by showering, too.

  Letting the hot water pound on my sore shoulders and back, I tried to picture what was going to happen now. Either we were heading out somewhere else, or he was planning to keep me here until he got the all clear, which seemed unlikely. We were hours away from Dallas, after all, and the motel was right off the highway. It didn’t seem particularly stealthy, but what did I know? I wasn’t a criminal, after all.

  Putting on the same rumpled clothes from yesterday wasn’t appealing, but I didn’t have a choice. I toweled my hair and clipped it up in a loose knot on the back of my head, and emerged from the bathroom to find Mac tapping his foot impatiently.

  “Ready now?”

  “For what?” I said as tartly as I could, sliding my feet into my sandals. I grabbed my bag. “You didn’t exactly give me today’s agenda. Are we robbing a bank? Knocking over a liquor store?”

  Oh, those blue eyes could certainly darken fast enough. Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, he took my hand and tugged me toward the door before he stopped and trained that deadly serious gaze on me. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry. You’re going to get in the backseat and try to stay there, nice and quiet, all right?”

  “Oh, so now you’re asking me? Showing some progress there,” I mumbled, and gasped when he swatted my ass. When I glanced over my shoulder, he just shrugged, all innocence, and pushed me gently out the door.

  “Wait, why am I in the backseat?” I asked as he opened the back passenger door. “Won’t that look weird to anyone passing by? I think you should really let me—”

  “Backseat, Paige,” Mac said firmly, and I climbed in with a frown. Why had I thought he was in a good mood when he woke me up?

  He threw his duffel bag in beside me, and instead of shutting the door he said, “Give me your wrist.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” he said, and grabbed my right hand so quickly I had no time to fight him. The metallic click of the cuff shutting was enough to make me groan, and when he clipped the other one to the door handle, I glared at him.

  “Really? Is this necessary?”

  He smiled, slow and sexy, and much too pleased with himself. When he leaned close, I could smell the scent of his shampoo, fresh pine and sunshine. “I think it’s absolutely necessary. And if you scream while I’m in there checking
out, I’ll tell anyone who asks that it’s part of a naughty little sexual game we play.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Care to bet on it?” He raised an eyebrow before he stood up and closed the door. I rattled the cuffs uselessly, but stopped when he glanced back over his shoulder.

  “Sick bastard,” I spat.

  Maybe making him wait—and making him mad—wasn’t the smartest plan I’d ever had.

  Five minutes later we were on our way. I tried to get comfortable, which wasn’t easy with one arm permanently attached to the door.

  “Hungry?” He caught my gaze in the rearview mirror and nodded. “We can stop for donuts and coffee up here in town somewhere.”

  It wasn’t the low-fat yogurt and granola I’d been hoping for, but at least he’d said the magic word, “coffee.” I figured I should be glad he was willing to feed me at all, and lay back against the seat, my mind drifting off in thought. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours since we left my house, and I assumed that meant that no one could have reported me missing yet—or if they had, no one was bothering to look for me. Although my dad did have a lot of friends on the police force, and he’d certainly never balked at asking them for favors before. The man had never learned how to drive within the speed limit. But, surely, after my phone call last night, he would be worried and have tried to work out where I was? Gone through security cameras at the house? Oh shit. Did Mac do something to the cameras?

  It didn’t mean my mom knew what happened, though. Would my father tell her he’d heard from me? Would it make a difference to the police if he told them I’d been abducted, rather than simply disappeared? Considering all of my knowledge of this sort of thing was based on TV shows, I had no idea how close I was to the truth anyway. It was beyond frustrating, and I was just about to try wheedling some more answers out of Mac when I heard the siren. The cops, they were after us.

  Chapter Four

  Craning my head, I could see a police car two blocks behind us, red cherry lights flashing as traffic pulled off to the sides of the road to let him through. Mac hadn’t been speeding—could someone have gotten his license plate number somehow? I braced myself against the front seat with my free hand as Mac sped up.