Page 5

I take a moment to register that I’m stuck in the passenger seat of Mark’s very expensive, very fancy black sports car.

The leather feels cool against my skin, and despite the strangeness of the situation, the rich smell is pleasing to my senses.

But I’m not here to admire his car.

”Mark, what the hell is going on?

” I demand in frustration.

I sit up straighter to assert some control over the situation and swerve my body to face him.

“You can't just kidnap me off the street like this!”

Mark glances at me, his eyes subconsciously wandering over my body, noticing how one of my legs is tucked beneath me, my skirt riding up my thighs. He follows the trail of skin, but I can see him forcefully avert his gaze. He’s trying hard not to look, to avoid showing me his moment of weakness.

I tell myself it can’t be because he wants me. It’s because he’s a man, and I’m a woman in a very short skirt. I immediately put my leg down, heat pooling wherever his gaze had roved.

I realize how small this car is, how impossibly hard it is to not care about how close Mark sits. There’s a charged silence between us before Mark clears his throat and looks ahead again. “I'm not kidnapping you, Quinn. I'm protecting you.”

”Protecting me? From what?” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. Just who does he think he is?

“There's no time to explain right now. We need to get you somewhere safe.” He says it with a straight face, like this is just another day at work for him.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Safe? You don’t even know me! Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

I can't wrap my mind around this. One minute I was getting out of my car to go straight to my apartment, and the next I'm trapped in a car with Mark, a man I’ve met a total of one time. I don’t even know his last name! How does he even know where I live?

”Quinn, listen to me,” Mark says with an urgency in his voice I find hard to ignore. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I need you to believe that I have your best interests at heart.”

I narrow my eyes at him, searching his face for any hint of deception, but all I see is sincerity. He truly believes what he’s saying!

Despite the part of me that wants to demand he undo the child lock and let me out right this second, I find myself hesitating. Maybe it's the way he speaks with such angst or the stress radiating off him that makes me think otherwise.

I take a deep breath to steady my frantic heart. “Okay,” I say slowly. “I'll hear you out. But this better be good, Mark. Because if you're lying to me, I swear to god I'll make you regret it.”

Mark looks over at me in surprise. “When I arrived at your apartment, I noticed your window was open. I watched your place for a while, Quinn. Someone was in there.”

“What are you talking about? Why were you watching my place?” The thought of him paying such close attention to my apartment is unnerving, to say the least.

He sighs. “It doesn't matter how I know. What matters is that you're in danger, and I need to get you somewhere safe.” His gaze meets mine briefly, and the intensity in his eyes steals my breath. “I'm taking you to my house. It's the only place I can guarantee your protection.”

My mind reels. I've always prided myself on my independence and ability to take care of myself. But the thought of someone breaking into my apartment, of being in danger... It's enough to make my stomach twist.

”How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?” I ask, my voice wavering slightly. “For all I know, you could be the one putting me in danger. Besides, you said my window was open? It can’t be. I’m certain I closed it. You’ve probably got the wrong apartment.”

Mark's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already.

” His words are blunt, but there's a rawness to them that catches me off guard.

”Okay,” I whisper at last. “I'll go with you. But if this is some kind of game, Mark...”

“It’s not a fucking game, Quinn. There, look! That’s your damn apartment, isn’t it?” he points up at my apartment, and when I look, I freeze. The window is open.

“I… I thought I closed it,” I say again. “It’s always closed.”

“I know. Believe me now?” he says, beginning to put the car into drive.

”No!” I say, rather sharply. “I might have left it open by accident. Let’s just go up and check, okay? What you’re suggesting is crazy. I can’t just go to your house.”

”Why not?” he asks, like it’s the silliest concern I have.

”Because I don’t know you!” My voice comes out an octave higher in protest, to truly drive the point home. “Be reasonable.”

”Fine. You want reasonable?” he argues. “We’ll sit right here and watch. I thought I saw someone in there. He’s bound to make an appearance now.”

“If there’s someone in my apartment, I insist we go check it out,” I tell him.

”No,” he roars with such fierce protectiveness that a dull silence falls over the car. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair before shutting down the car and looking at me like I’m a complete pain in his ass. “We’ll sit here and watch. The man could be armed.”

There’s something about his command, the way he’s taking charge, that makes me stay planted in my seat, eyes fixed on the open window of my apartment.

”Fine,” I whisper.

”Fine,” he says hoarsely, his eyes locking with mine. Tension crackles in the air as we stay fixated in that position until finally his eyes flicker between mine and then he turns back.

Once again, I notice how close we’re sitting, how his sleek sports car leaves hardly an arm's length of distance between us. In this silence, I catch the scent of mahogany from him and the leather of these expensive seats.

The silence stretches between us as we sit in the car, my eyes mostly fixed on my apartment building. The anticipation is almost unbearable, creating a tightness in my chest that makes it hard to breathe. I glance over at Mark.

With his jaw clenched like that, I can see every angle of his chin. The way his hand rests on the steering wheel, so casual and incredibly masculine, sends a shiver down my spine. I have so many questions, but one keeps coming up: Why does he care what happens to me? Why was he watching over me?

Despite the absurdity of the situation, I find the idea of a man like him checking in on my safety strangely appealing. Then, I entirely discard that crazy internal talk.

That’s how victims of Stockholm Syndrome talk, Quinn, I tell myself.

As if he can read my thoughts, he chooses this moment to glance over at me. The way his gaze pierces through me makes my breath catch in my throat. I feel a blush creeping up my neck as I look back at the apartment. The tension in the air could generate electricity.

”How long do we have to wait?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

”As long as it takes,” he replies firmly.

The discomfort I feel only grows stronger with each passing minute. The occasional exchange between us does little to alleviate the strangeness of the situation, no matter how hard we try.

“You know, if you wanted to spend more time with me, you could've just asked me out on a date like a normal person,” I quip, trying to lighten the mood.

Mark's lips twitch at my little joke. “Where's the fun in that?

I thought you liked a little danger, Quinn.

”

I roll my eyes, but a thrill runs through me at his words.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement catches my eye, and my heart drops to my stomach.

There, in the window of my apartment, I see a shadowy figure moving behind the curtains.

A strangled gasp escapes my lips, and I feel Mark tense beside me.

”No,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“This can't be happening.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know it's true. What Mark warned me about is real! I feel like I'm going to be sick.

Mark's voice cuts through my racing thoughts. “Your apartment is probably being bugged right now, Quinn.

There’s no other reason for someone to be in there for so long.

Or, they might be waiting for you to return to attack.

But that seems unlikely, since they would try to hide and go unnoticed.

Clearly, this man doesn’t care enough to hide, so I’m thinking it’s more likely the former reason he’s in there.

”

”Why?” I ask, terror rife in my voice.

“I wish I had answers for that,” he growls and slams his fist against the steering wheel, making me lurch.

“Listen, we should leave now before this situation gets worse. If whoever this is finds us here, things could get ugly.”

I look over at him and find myself caught off guard by the genuine worry in his eyes.

“I can't just leave everything behind,” I argue in vain, not prepared for this sudden turn of events, at having my life turned upside down. “I have a life here. I can't just leave my apartment!”

Mark sighs, running a hand through his short black hair. “You don't have a choice, Quinn. They know where you live, and they won't stop until they get what they want.”

I shake my head, refusing to accept his words. “No, I'll find another place to stay. A hotel, a friend's house, anywhere but with you.”

I reach for the car door, determined to leave, but Mark's hand shoots out, gripping my wrist. “Don't be stupid, Quinn. You're not safe out there on your own.”

I yank my arm from his grasp, anger and fear warring inside me. “I can take care of myself, Mark. I don't need you to protect me. But thank you for the warning. I think I’ll call the cops for now.”

But even as I say the words, I know they're a lie. The shadowy figure in my apartment is proof that I'm in real trouble, and I’ve worked with enough dangerous men to understand that the cops can’t always be of help. Still, I can't bring myself to admit it, not to Mark, not to anyone.

For if I do, that would make me helpless, when I’ve tried to be anything but.

I make another attempt to leave the car, but Mark is faster. He pulls me back, his hands firm on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. His blue-gray eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I'm lost in their intensity.

“I'm not going to let you walk into a trap, Quinn,” he says firmly. “You're coming with me, whether you like it or not.”

Before I can protest, Mark reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. My eyes widen in disbelief as he snaps one end around my wrist and the other to the car's door handle.

”What the hell do you think you're doing?” I demand, tugging at the cuffs. The metal bites into my skin, making me captive.

Mark turns to me, unapologetic. “Keeping you safe, even if it means doing something you don't like.”

I stare at him, shellshocked, my mouth hanging half-open. This can't be happening. I’m handcuffed in a stranger’s car, completely at his mercy!

”This is kidnapping, you know,” I spit out at last, my voice trembling with anger. “You can't just take me against my will.”

“I can, and I will,” Mark replies, his tone leaving no room for argument as he puts the car into drive.