Page 51

I grab my pack, yank my money out from behind the bed, and carry it into the bathroom. I have one weapon I know he’ll be powerless to refuse, and it’s time to pull it out.

I strip down, hide the butter knife as best as I can, shower, and use the blow dryer so my hair frames my face and flows down my back. I slip into my underwear, wriggle into my dress, and leave my feet bare. The dress is still a little damp, but that will work to my advantage too.

After making sure everything is where I need it to be, I pinch my cheeks, heft up my bosom, and sashay across the bedroom. I tentatively enter the living room, lowering my voice so it comes out husky. “Have you finished?”

Apparently, he hasn’t. He’s still on his knees, eyes closed and mid-prayer, when I interrupt him.

As his eyes focus, he sucks in a breath then averts his gaze. “Where are the clothes they gave you?”

I cross the distance to him and keep my voice light and teasing. “Why? Don’t you like this?”

He rises to his feet, still unable to look at me as he turns away. “Put the other clothes back on. You’re showing…waytoo much skin.”

I huff a breath. “I want to go sit outside. I can’t wear sweatpants outside in the heat.”

His voice is so strained I know he’s wavering. “This isn’t going to work, Samantha.”

At his insistence, I lift my chin. “Whatever do you mean?”

He whirls around, anger flashing on his face, before he yanks his phone off the charger and dials a number. With his eyes on his phone, and not on me, he almost barks into the microphone. “Send whoever you want over. Preferably a woman.”

He nods then shakes his head at me, so I push my chest out in a final bid to get him to see reason.

“You’re afraid to be alone with me now?”

He ignores me, glances at his phone, and grimaces. “Great. My CO is trying to get ahold of me.”

I’m so annoyed he’s not responding that I don’t filter my speech. “Maybe you shouldn’t have gone on TV.”

His brow furrows. “Get changed. I need to make a phone call before I lose my job.”

I chew my lip, switching tactics. “And if I don’t?”

Without blinking, he reaches into his pack and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. “Then I quit being nice and handcuff you to a chair.”

I extend my hands, pouting in a last-ditch bid. “I’d prefer to be handcuffed to you.”

His cheeks flush, then he swallows. “Quit it.”

“Don’t want to.”

He growls and snaps the handcuffs open. “Don’t test me.”

I inch closer, hands still extended. “Are you going to tell yourrealboss you’re keeping me prisoner against my will?”

His eyes drill into me, his irritation rolling off him in waves.

“Didn’t think so. Imagine if it gets out… It would ruin you,” I say.

His jaw tightens, then he whips out his hand and slaps the cuff on my wrist. Cold steel bites into my skin, and he grabs my other hand, ready to snap the lock into place. “Quit. It.Now,”he growls.

Now just as annoyed as he is, I lean into him, crushing my chest against his, invading his space. “I don’t know why I thought you might be different. Homeland Security is just as corrupt as any other department.”

He grabs my wrist, his mouth pressed down and his eyes narrowed as he tries to process the validity of what I’m saying. “Is that your opinion, or do you know something?”

I tug my wrist, and he releases me, focused on my face. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. “I knowpeople.”

Specifically one person. One person who loves money more than he loves his country, apparently.