Manhandler came up behind her, his smug attitude full-watt. “Yeah, you did. You wanted the D. Just admit it.” She felt his heat a second before she felt his lips beside her ear. In a low, gruff voice laced with desire, he said, “If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask, buttercup.”
Elise’s stomach clenched and her nipples hardened to painful points. He was right, she did want him. She wanted all of him, and she couldn’t explain why, but she’d be damned if she admitted it out loud. It was one thing to think it, and another thing entirely to voice it. Voicing it made it real. Right now, all it was, was a fantasy. One that would remain forever unfulfilled.
She hoped.
Elise stepped away, putting distance between them. “The only thing I want, is for you to let me go.”
“Behave yourself, and maybe you’ll get your wish.”
“Maybe?”
“Did I stutter?”
Lips thinning, Elise wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re an asshole.”
“Get used to it.”
Oh, she would. She’d remind herself every second of every minute if it meant avoiding making her life suck any worse than it already did. The last thing she needed was to get herself emotionally attached to a criminal on the run from the law.
“You know you can’t keep me here forever. People will notice I’m missing.”
“Yeah, what people?”
Elise’s mouth opened but no words came out. She should have expected the question, since it was an obvious follow-up, but she hadn’t, and she didn’t have a ready answer. The problem was, she was bluffing. There was no one in the world to miss her—not a friend or boyfriend or even family. She was alone in the world. Well, except for Mr. Nuttingham, her squirrel friend who frequented her front stoop morning, afternoon, and night for the assorted pile of nuts she left out for him. Over the last couple months, however, she’d noticed him putting on a bit of weight, which led her to believe hers wasn’t the only stoop he’d been frequenting. So, basically, her life was so pathetic that she didn’t even have the loyalty of a rodent.
Suddenly feeling drained, Elise reached out and felt around for the bed. Finding it, she slumped down on the edge and released a long-suffering sigh.
“You’re not going to cry now, are you?” Manhandler asked, sounding just a touch concerned, but whether that was for her benefit or his, she didn’t know.
Snorting, Elise shook her head. “No. I don’t cry.” Especially in front of others. Especially if they were the cause of it. Why give them the satisfaction?
“Good.”
“Grand.”
“Do you always have to get the last word in?”
“Yes,” she said, for the sake of being argumentative.
He chuckled. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”
By that, she assumed he meant his partner. “You don’t know me.”
“No, I don’t. But I’ll learn.”
Did that mean he meant to keep her there as a prisoner for a while? Elise wanted to shout, rail at him and demand he release her immediately, but she didn’t. If he intended to get to know her, then that meant she still had some time. Killing her wasn’t on the top of the list, and she’d learned enough from her true crime show addiction that making an abductor get to know you meant you could possibly get him to sympathize with you. It was a form of manipulation, to get them to view their victim as a human being instead of a disposable piece of meat.
Elise felt a rush of renewed hope course through her.
“Is that before or after you put a bullet between my eyes and dump me in a shallow grave?” she asked.
“Wow, you’re a morbid one. Why the preoccupation with death? Do you want me to kill you? Are you suicidal but too chicken shit to pull the trigger yourself?”
What. A. Jerk. “If I was, would you do it?” she retorted.
“Nope. I don’t do other people’s dirty work for them. You want to check out early, do it yourself.”
Good thing she wasn’t looking for an early out, because with an attitude like his, she might have done it. Which made her realize he was just as defensive and combative as she was. He wasn’t an easy target. He had a sharp mind, and she was going to have a hard time getting past his defenses—she was certain of it.