in Solo’s mind, and his nails elongated into sharp-tipped claws.
“Calm down,” X commanded.
“Get madder,” Dr. E retorted.
The two men clomped off, murmuring about finding a camera. Every word was quieter than the last, until Solo could no longer discern their voices. He wanted to shake the cage until the bars popped loose. He wanted to try something, anything, but he still wasn’t at full strength, and until he was, he was too vulnerable and couldn’t afford to put his plan on the fast track.
Shouldn’t have to wait too much longer, though. He would be stronger and ready to go by sunset, at the very least, but he would wait until everyone else was in bed. Then . . .
Yeah. Then.
• • •
A few hours later, the captives awoke. Most sat up with a jolt. Some eased up and stretched. All muttered and complained about Vika.
As though summoned by the complaints, she reappeared, wearing a new T-shirt and jeans. The top was pink, lacy, and the pants sparkly. She looked as though she’d just come from a nightclub after dancing for hours with the man of her dreams.
Solo’s hands fisted, a hot surge of irritation blasting through him.
She’d touched him, kissed him. He didn’t want her dancing with another man.
Stupid of him, yes. Did he care? No.
The tobacco-spitting men—who had never returned with a camera—trailed behind her, both carrying buckets and leering at her. When she stopped and faced them, their expressions cleared. She pointed to the ground, a queen with her subjects, expecting absolute and immediate obedience.
She got it. They placed the new buckets where she wanted and picked up the old ones. She busied herself with what was inside, but the pair remained where they were for several long moments, watching her, leering all over again now that her back was to them, elbowing each other with masculine intent.
“I think I’ll sneak into her trailer tonight and have me some fun with her.”
“You do, and you won’t have to worry about Matas’s magic act. He’ll straight-up murder you.”
A shrug. “Might be worth it.”
“ ’Course, he’ll only murder you if Jecis don’t get to you first.”
“I could take ’em both at the same time,” the guy grumbled under his breath.
“Fine. Go ahead, and do it. Shank the meanest thugs ever to walk the face of the earth, and I’ll sneak into her trailer while all three of you are too dead to stop me.”
They snickered.
Matas had been mentioned on several occasions. Who was he? And why was Vika showing no reaction to the conversation? A conversation about her possible rape? Instead, she concentrated on her task, lifting bowls from one bucket and filling them with bread and grain from the other. Only when one of the men did what Solo had wanted to do the first time he’d seen her and reached out to pinch a lock of her hair did she give a reaction. Her spine went rigid as she whipped around to face the culprit.
Solo gripped the cage bars.
“Touch me again,” she said, “and I’ll be wearing your body parts as jewelry within the hour. Got it?”
One man’s lip curled in fear. He nodded and strode away as fast as his feet would carry him. The other, the bigger one, kept his attention on her for longer than was decent, his gaze roving over her, lingering where it shouldn’t.
“You really think you’re strong enough to take me, Miz Vika?” he asked silkily.
She grinned with relish. “Let’s ask Jecis what he thinks about that, shall we?”
Before the man could respond, Solo jerked at the bars, the entire enclosure shaking and rattling, creating a ruckus. The man yanked his attention Solo’s way, and their gazes locked. His was brown. Solo’s was bloodred—and growing brighter by the second.
Paling, the man at last backed away. He crashed into one of the cages, turned, and darted from the clearing.
Vika’s shoulders sagged with relief.
Without the guards to dissuade them, the Mec and the Cortaz erupted into cruel taunts. Although Vika’s motions were stiff, she gave no other indication that she noticed as she leapt back into work.
Solo had never encountered anyone capable of tuning out the rest of the world with such success.
He watched as she slid a bowl of food into each of the cages, never getting close enough for anyone to grab, instead balancing the bowls on the end of a shovel and forcing the captives to accept from a distance.
“I want to talk to you,” he said when she reached him.
She