In the light of day, he looks even more spectacular, and I curse myself for only thinking of my vagina last night. If I had used my brain, I would have realized there was something off with this godly looking man. Sporting only a pair of jeans, I can see that his size is far more incredible than I could have imagined last night. He’s covered in tattoos and his body ... god his body. Perhaps we did sleep together and this is some sort of BDSM bullshit?
His eyes scan over me and then he turns to lock the door behind him, and I see across his back, in big, black letters he has tattooed ‘JAGGER.’ Is that his nickname? Or maybe he’s a die-hard fan of Mick Jagger. Stranger things have happened. He walks over to the bed, his gaze raking over me. He doesn’t look like a rapist or a murderer, but that’s not to say he isn’t. Sometimes the best looking men are the most dangerous.
“What,” I rasp out, “the actual fuck is going on here?”
I need water. Stat.
He raises a brow and his lip twitches. Okay, so maybe we did have sex and played dirty little games, and I just can’t remember? God, what a damned pity. That is a memory I would love to get back.
“You’re here because I need you to be.”
Doesn’t answer my question.
“Did we ...”
I raise my brows.
His eyes widen, and his face turns stone hard. All humor is gone from his dark depths.
“I didn’t fuck you,” he grinds out. “I have no intentions of fucking you. Is that what you think this is? You think I tied you up and put you in a secured room because I’m some sort of twisted motherfucker?”
“It makes sense,” I throw back. “Why else would I be tied up?”
He glares at me. “You’re here, Willow, because your father has some very vital information, and we need to get him out of hiding.”
I blink.
The man is delusional. I think he’s somehow gotten me confused for someone else. My father is dead.
“Hate to break it to you, pal, but my father is dead. Can you please release me? It’s clear you’ve got the wrong woman.”
“No, he’s not. He’s in Witness Protection because he delved in some shady fuckin’ business and ran with information my boys and I need.”
His boys? What the hell is this?
“Is this some sort of joke?”
His face remains stony. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
He doesn’t look like he’s joking, and any humor left in my body slowly shrinks away as I realize the situation I’m in could end very very badly if I’m not careful. Whoever this man is, he’s obviously bad, and I’m not about to stick around to find out just how bad he is. I need to get out of here. He has the wrong person. The quicker I can prove that, the quicker he lets me go.
“My father is dead,” I say again. “He died. I watched him get lowered into the ground. You have the wrong person.”
“That’s what they want you to think. He was in danger and they needed everyone to believe he was no longer alive. I assure you, Willow, he is. He’s in protection, and I need him to come out.”
“You’re wrong.”
“But I’m not. You’re here because I need you to get him out.”
This can’t be happening. There must be some mistake. Could my father really be alive? Could he have been in protection this whole time? If so, why wouldn’t he have found a way to let me know? Was he really in so much danger that he couldn’t, at the very least, stop my suffering by telling me he’s alive?
My chest clenches. “If what you say is true, then what the hell do you need me for?”
He smirks, and I no longer see beauty. Right now, the man standing in front of me is a stone-cold monster. My survival instincts begin taking over. If he’s going to hurt me, then he’s going to see that I’ll fight. I’ll fight so god damned hard to make sure he never gets what he wants. Whatever that might be.
“Because when he hears the news of your kidnapping, he will step forward.”
That’s it? That’s his big plan?
I snort. “You’re assuming my father loves me.”
He grins, low and wicked. “He’ll come.”
So sure of himself.
“And what if no one reports me missing?” I challenge.
He narrows his eyes. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. Your family will report this, your best friend will be frantic by now.”
He’s right. She will. But I’m not about to tell him that.
“My sister doesn’t see me often,” I say, my voice rough. “It will take her a few weeks to realize something’s off. My mother is a drug addict and currently in an institution for the mentally unwell. Ava might report me, but who is going to believe I didn’t just run off with some hot guy I met? So tell me, wise guy, how do you suppose this little plan will work?”