are you?”
“Princess.” He pats the spot next to him. “I don’t mind answering your questions, but I do demand an obedient little girl. You really don’t want to earn a punishment.” From the way his eyes gleam, I readjust my initial impression of the man. He’s a sociopath, and this daddy/daughter thing is not what he’s into. This is a man who likes to play games—mindfuck games in particular. He wants to play this little girl/princess routine until I grow comfortable with him and lose my fear. That’s when he’ll toss me in the cage and the real torture will begin.
Dude, I read you like an open book. And I want nothing to do with you.
“Now, princess…” The way he says that pulls my shoulders to my ears. “I’m going to ask you this once and only once. Your answer is important. Your truthfulness is vital. Do you understand?”
“No.” I have no idea what he’s talking about.
He pats the seat behind him yet again. This time when he looks at me, I see the madness dancing in his eyes.
“It’s a simple question.” His head cocks to the side like he’s the most patient man in the world. “Are you carrying any other tracking devices?” When I begin to shake my head, he holds up a finger and shushes me. “Carrying them on your person, or in your person? I really don’t want to have to carve you up so soon. I have a scanner at the hanger, but it’s best if you tell me now. I don’t appreciate little girls who tell lies.”
Holy shit, but he’s terrifying, and I have no doubt he doesn’t appreciate that at all. I’ve known men like him before. I’ve served men like him before. But I’ve never been owned by a man like him before.
When I was a slave, it was common to be lent out to guests as their entertainment for the night. I’ve been forced to do some pretty sick and twisted things, but in the back of my head, I always knew I was only on loan. My Master didn’t like his slaves returning to him damaged. That’s probably the only thing that kept me alive for so long.
This nut job? There’s nothing standing between me and his madness.
Nothing that is except my training and the plan we put together at Guardian HQ.
Skye’s words come back to me. One to find and one to hide.
I gulp and look at the spot beside him. The place where, if I value my life, I will soon be sliding into. But not too fast.
Keeping my voice meek, I scoot further away from him, drawing up my knees and huddling into myself, just like a little girl would do. Damn, but this creeps me out.
I lift my bound hands and point to my left shoulder. “They put something in my arm.”
“A tracking device?”
I shrug. “I dunno.” Slowly, my speech patterns change as I take on the persona of my twelve-year-old self. “But there’s something under the skin.”
“Come here, princess.” He leans toward me. “Let’s see what those mean people did to you.”
My brows knit together and I nibble at my lower lip. When I look at him, I do it from beneath the fluttering of my lashes.
“I’m not going to hurt you. You’re daddy’s little princess. All I want to do is take care of you.”
I take my time, but slowly I take the bait and close the distance between us. I sit beside him, not touching, and hold my hands in my lap. Of course, I hold them. He’s got them bound with a damn zip-tie.
He brings his arm down, curling it around my shoulders, and tugs me tight against him. Sickly sweet, there’s an odor to him that makes me want to retch, but I tamp that down.
“Show me.” His voice takes on an edge and I show him where the tracker is embedded in my arm. “Good girl.” He finds the small lump under my skin. “George…”
He pins me viciously against him, I squirm in his grip, but I’m no match for him. The two men sitting in front of us spin around and lean over the back of their seat. One of them helps Crazy Mr. Rogers hold me down, while the other one flicks open a wicked-assed blade.
I scream as he pinches my arm and slices my skin. Pain rips through me as he digs the tip of the knife in my arm. I suddenly realize thrashing around may not