suppress a sigh and try another tack. “I know what this is about. I get it. Spider killed your president’s brother. They have to pay him back. You’re doing what you have to.”
He leans over. With the mask on, I can’t see his face, but his eyes crinkle with a smile. “You don’t know as much as you think you do, girl.”
This isn’t going well.
Before I can think of something else to say, the distant sound of motorcycle engines reaches my ears. I tense. My captor lifts his head, looking into the other room. Listening.
The engines grow louder, drawing closer. Hope bursts to life, but as soon as it does, fear eats away at it. That could be Spider, but with my luck, it’s more likely the Satan’s Bastards coming to deal with me.
A second or two passes. The engines swell to a roar, then quickly fade to nothing.
Heck! What if that was Spider and he’s rode right past the place without realizing I’m here?
I suppress a desperate noise, and struggle for something to say to open this guy up.
Minutes pass. Maybe if I can make him think he’s done me a favor…
I fill my voice with as much respect and wonder as I can. “I can’t imagine how you managed to do this. You must have been doing this for a long time. I can’t believe you got away without anyone seeing us.”
He leans over again, watching me. Amusement dances in his eyes.
“Seriously, I owe you. I’ve been trying to get away from those filthy Outlaws for a long time.”
It’s probably not going to work on him, but I’m at a loss, grasping at straws.
“You talk too much.” He jumps down from the island and draws his gun, headed for me.
I press myself against the door. “Wait. No, don’t, I—”
A door creaks down the hall we came through when we got here. The masked man pauses a few steps away from me and rolls his head back, headed for the opening to the hall.
“It’s about time,” he says roughly. “This bitch is—oh, shit.” He backpedals into the room. “You want the bitch, you’ll have to—”
Two shots go off. The guy jerks back. Blood sprays, and he drops with a thud.
A scream rips out of me.
I stare at the three men who stalk into the room. Striker, a man whose name I don’t know, and in the lead…
Spider.
Pointing his gun at the unmoving corpse, Spider strides into the room, all tattoos and leather and larger than life. My chest heaves, relief causing me to shake like a leaf in a gale.
Spider barely looks at me, and the icy, masked expression on his face pierces my heart. For a second, something else registers in his eyes—shock, as he takes in the sight of me cuffed to the door—before he walks over to the dead kidnapper.
“No one calls her names but me.” As Striker laughs at his words, Spider squeezes off another shot, firing it right at the masked man’s head. Blood sprays again, and bits of flesh and bone and cloth from the mask explode.
I tear my head away, flinching and almost emptying my belly.
Spider strides over to me and squats down, looking me over, the gun resting on his knee. “Well, this is an interesting twist,” he says wryly.
I’m pretty sure I know why he’s so surprised. He thought I ran away. He wasn’t expecting to see me being held captive. He also makes no move to free me.
He takes my chin between his thumb and fingers, tipping it up and examining my face. His fingers caress my cheek, his thumb running over the bruise the kidnapper must have left behind when he hit me to knock me out.
Spider makes a soft growl in his throat. Then his expression closes off again and he looks over the rest of me, as if checking for further signs of injury.
“You do have a knack for getting yourself into trouble, don’t you, Wildcat?”
It’s impossible to read his expression beyond the satisfaction in his eyes.
Over his shoulder, a few feet back, Striker looks at me, and all the color drains out of his face. Sweat beads on his brow. His jaw clenches and he makes a gagging sound in his throat.
What the heck is that about?
Spider glances back at him. “What’s the matter with you?”
Striker shakes his head, waving the question away and turning to look anywhere but at me. The other guy cocks his head at him.