Make Her Pay - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,4

worktable. She probably decided to do the necklace at the same time.

Lizzie slipped a pinpoint flashlight out of her pocket because a room with containers of nitric acid, even a five percent solution, was no place to accidentally knock something over in the dark.

Stepping deeper into the closet, she aimed the flashlight in the direction of the tiny worktable along one narrow wall and-

Thwack!

The door slammed behind her the very instant one powerful arm encircled her whole body from behind. A warm hand smashed over her mouth, silencing her scream as the flashlight clunked to the floor.

She jerked one way, then the other, but she was no match for the mighty arms that immobilized her. She tried to see him, but all she could get was an eyeful of shoulder. Big shoulder.

No shoulder she’d seen on this boat before.

“Looking for something in particular?” His voice was a low, menacing rumble, sending shivers over her skin.

She jerked hard, grunting into his hand. “Met me mo!” The demand was smashed right back into her mouth.

“No can do, sweetheart.” He punctuated that with a squeeze, forcing her body against his, her backside right up against his hips.

A whole different kind of white-hot terror seized her. In all her dive trips and salvage efforts, she’d never been on a ship that had been attacked by pirates. But on Paxton boats? Entirely possible. Probable, even.

She tried to swallow, tried to breathe, but he just pinned her tighter. She fought again, but he was rock solid and unyielding.

“Mwat do you want?”

“What do you want? is the question.”

She tried to wrest away one more time, but it was fruitless. She forced herself to be very, very still despite the adrenaline coursing through her, fueling her fight.

Three or four interminable seconds rolled by, her heart whacking at her rib cage in triple time.

“Good girl,” he said softly, the tone ominous enough to almost stop that beating completely. “This is a very bad room for a wrestling match.”

Yes, it was. Unless you had gloves and long sleeves on. Did she dare? Only her face was vulnerable.

What was worse? A minor burn or… rape and murder?

No contest.

“Now here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, his mouth still pressed to her ear, his mighty grip strangling her whole body. “We’re going to back out of this closet, very calmly and quietly, before you help yourself to a single item that doesn’t belong to you. Then you’ll pay for your misdeeds, and the punishment will be severe.”

If he let go of either arm, she could grab a cup of acid and back toss it in his face. And scream like hell for help.

“Let’s go,” he said roughly, lifting her off the floor.

She had one finger free, her arm trapped under his. If she could just… close around his pinkie and yank.

His knuckle snapped and he loosened his grip just enough to free her arm. She stabbed straight for the row of tiny cups, seizing one in a gloved hand.

He jerked her backward but not before she tossed the contents of the cup over her shoulder. Instantly, he whipped them both to the right, hard enough that the acid splashed over the rim of the cup.

With a shriek, she flipped the whole cup just as he threw her to the ground, covering her body from the rain of acid.

“What the hell!” he grunted, writhing over her.

“Get off me!” She shoved at him, not knowing if any of the acid had touched her clothes, or his. “Get the hell off me, you bastard!”

She tried to scramble away, but he snagged her sweatshirt. “Take it off!” he insisted. “Now! Take it off!” He grabbed the zipper and started to rip.

“No!” She slammed her hands into his chest, just as she felt the air on her arm, where a hole in her hoodie suddenly appeared and grew, the acid on it centimeters from her skin.

“You’ll burn! You have to take it off!” He jabbed at the shoulders, pushing the jacket over her, stripping the sleeves as he pulled her to her feet and ripped off the cotton tank top, leaving her entirely bare.

“Your pants! Hurry before you burn!” He seized the waistband of her sweats just as she saw two gaping holes widening over her thigh.

“Off!” he demanded, dragging them down over her hips and taking her underpants with them. In one more lightning move, he flung them away. “Water! Wet your skin!”

He pushed her to the sink and flipped the faucet on, the water