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I start eating the bacon and egg wholemeal sandwich she’s brought me. It’s got chili flakes in again, and spinach. It’s fucking delicious.

“It’ll happen, or it won’t. You’re going to do what you’re going to do,” I say before taking another bite.

“But . . . but I took away your freedom. Aren’t you upset?”

I shrug. “It’s no more than I deserve.”

A flicker of concern reaches her eyes. But she doesn’t seem scared for others. She seems scared for me.

“And your people will be looking for you, won’t they?”

“Yes.”

“This soon?”

“The same day, Killer.”

We’re on day three. She must know that this is inevitable. I’m not going to lie. Not that she would believe it, anyway. Of course my people will be looking for me; shejust doesn’t need to know that they know exactly where I am already.

“I could torture you,” she blurts out.

“You don’t have it in you to hurt someone, Olivia. We both know that.”

“You don’t know me.”

I shrug again. Finishing off my sandwich, I place the plate on the side of the bed and lean back, trying to stretch my aching muscles. I work out every day, so my body is starting to feel the effects of this little vacation. I’m not getting any younger, and the body forgets itself quicker after thirty.

Regardless, she’s shamelessly checking me out, and fuck, it feels good. I’m in good shape; I know this. But given her profession and how fucking out of my league she is, the monkey jumping around my rib cage is pounding its chest, screaming, “Mine. Mine. Mine.” She’s feeding my ego as well as my stomach.

“I’ll bring you some vitamin D supplements.”

“Don’t go out of your way, Killer. You’ll let me go soon, and I’ll get my sunshine then.”

“I’ve kidnapped you . . .”

I let you.

“I’ve held you hostage for three days . . .”

I could have gotten out of these chains and out the window in less than twenty minutes, but sure.

“And you still don’t take me seriously. Maybe I really will torture you. Then you’ll know how serious I am.”

“Sounds like foreplay to me,” I wink, and pink singes her cheeks.

She moves to pick up my empty plate, and I reach out to grab her wrist. My grip is light, non-threatening, but she gasps all the same.

“I will smash these plates on your head if you don’t let go of me.”

Pressing my two fingers against her pulse point, I can feel her heartbeat racing. I rub my thumb against the smoothskin of her wrist. She could pull away easily but she doesn’t. She’s waiting to see what I do next. At least she has her weapon of choice ready.

Ignoring her comment, I say, “I’ll make you a deal.”

“You’re not in a position to make a deal.”

“Consider it something interesting to keep my mind occupied. You’ve given me far too much time to think.”

“Perhaps that’s the real torture.”