Page 3

I snort. “Just a scratch? A couple inches to the left and that bullet would have torn your gut up. You got lucky.” He doesn’t look surprised that I recognize the wound. I’ve seen the injured soldiers come through my father’s door, most late at night, all needing the type of care that would provoke too many questions from an actual hospital. Leticia and I learned to administer first-aid from an early age, which was handy for me whenever my father got a little too punchy. Sighing in resignation, I say, “I’d at least clean it with soap and water,” and start looking for a shirt in the pile of clothes on the chair.

“Would you now?” His eyes narrow at the T-shirt in my hand. “Did someone tell you to get dressed?”

I whip around to glare at him. “It’s fucking freezing in here.”

Holding my gaze, he flicks the button on his jeans and instantly drops them.

He’s not wearing underwear.

And his dick is hard.

I hide my apprehension by arching an unimpressed eyebrow at it. “Like I said. It’s cold. I won’t hold it against you.”

“You can join me in the shower,” he replies, spreading his arms, perfectly comfortable showing off his body. “We can warm each other up.”

I pointedly ignore the innuendo. “Trust me, nothing about a shower in this place is going to be warm.”

I’m half hoping it puts him off the idea, but instead, he bends to pull something familiar from his backpack. Zip-ties.

Groaning, I gesture to the strips of plastic. “Seriously? I’m already locked in here!” It’s no surprise when he catches my wrist, easily manhandling me to bind my hands behind my back–not that I bother fighting. Nick’s been assigned to me for a reason. He’s pretty, but he isn’t dumb.

I don’t expect him to drag me into the bathroom with him, though.

He notices how rigid I’ve gone. We’re both naked. His dick is standing at attention. The camera doesn’t see in here. Nick lets out a low laugh. “Relax. Can’t have you roaming about unchecked when my gun’s so close, can I?”

Fair point.

He turns on the shower, using his hand to test the temperature. I can tell from his subtle flinch that it’s just as cold as I knew it’d be, but he doesn’t seem to care. He grabs his phone and flips through the screen, making my shoulders curl protectively inward. I wouldn’t put it past him to record me in this humiliating position.

Instead, a blast of music comes from the speakers.

Christmas music.

“You’ve got the right idea,” he says, stepping beneath the weak spray of water. “Me and you are living the South Side life, Little Bird. The Lords aren’t even throwing a party this year. Too paranoid. Shitty music and depressing bible snowflakes is all we get.” Beneath the derision and pointed attempt to make us seem on the same level, I think I detect a trace of wistful melancholy. Briefly, I wonder what his family is doing this time of year. I doubt post-murder motel hide-outs are a Bruin tradition.

Leaving the curtain open, he ducks under the showerhead and lets the water lazily roll down his body, taking the blood and grime with it. Nick showers like I always imagined a typical guy might. Quick, efficient, unconcerned about being watched. Picking up the shower gel, he mutters a soft curse when he realizes it’s empty.

“Oh yeah, by the way,” I say, shivering on the toilet seat, “I need new soap.”

He tears off the cap and runs the water inside, shaking it. When he turns it upside down, it gushes out, watered-down but still soapy. “Guess rich girls like you never had to economize.”

I want to tell him that he knows precious fuck-all about what growing up in my house was like, but I swallow it back. Nick doesn’t need to know more about me than he already does. He lathers up his body, taking care to clean the fresh wound, and then dips his hand between his legs to idly stroke his cock as the water washes the suds away.

“You want to know what Daniel said on the phone?” He turns off the water with a sharp squeak, shoulder muscles flexing.

I avert my eyes, trying not to look at his growing erection. He’s obviously impervious to the cold. “Not really.”

“He said I’ve been a valuable member of the team this year. Helped him out of multiple jams. Called me reliable.” Laughing quietly, he adds, “More reliable than his son, seeing that Killer’s too occupied being all pussy whipped over his Lady to be a proper bullet gopher.”

I shift uncomfortably on the toilet seat, eying the door. “Good for you.”

“And for my hard work, I’ve earned a Christmas bonus.”

“Oh, let me guess. A new gun? Another kidnapping victim? Maybe a few hookers from his brothel?” I roll my eyes.

He steps out of the shower, hand still gliding up and down his cock. “He told me I could do whatever I wanted to you. Well, solong as I keep my hands to myself.” For emphasis, he toys with the tip of his cock, jerking his chin at me in an authoritative nod. “Show me your tits.”

With my arms pinned behind me, I’d managed to keep the towel secure under my armpits. If Nick has learned anything about me by now, it’s that I’m not doing his shit-work for him. He steps toward me, hand still running along this length, and easily snatches the towel off. Frigid air hits my already shivering body, but the heat in his eyes as he inspects me is almost enough to burn. He rakes his bottom lip through his teeth, nodding approvingly. “Don’t even need to touch you to get nipples hard.”