Page 52 of Tactically Acquired

He rolled his eyes and tore the tape from my mouth. “What?”

“I need to pee.”

“Too fucking bad.”

He was about to replace the tape, taking away the small freedom I had. Without my mouth, how was I supposed to talk him into letting me go?

“Please, it’s a desperate situation. I have a weak bladder, and if I don’t go, there’ll be an awful mess.”

“Lady, do you think I was born yesterday? I take people hostage all the time, and do you know the first thing they try to do when they get tied up?”

I shook my head slowly, hoping he wouldn’t sayuse the bathroom.“They politely ask to be taken home?”

“They do the same fucking thing you’re doing. They beg. They plead. The bathroom is always the first target.”

Well, shit. If that didn’t work, I’d have to find another way out. Maybe I could show him my cleavage. I bent forward slightly, hoping it looked like I really had to hold it in. “I’m not trying to do anything. I just really have to use the bathroom after?—

He snorted. “Yep, and that’s the second thing. For women, at least. Although, you’d be surprised what men will do in desperate times.”

My back straightened at the accusation in his voice. Though, I could tell he was enjoying the show by the way his eyes lingered. But I was used to that. Men always watched.

“Do you know who I am?” I went with, hoping my fame would get me out of this.

“Sure, that chick in the action movies.”

“And doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

He grinned, kicking his feet up on the table. “Yep, a bigger payday.”

Well, wasn’t that just fucking special. This man really didn’t care about the fact that I was a woman, that I was injured and in pain, or that I was famous. Nothing would get to him. “Youknow, I could probably pay you way more than whoever your boss is.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Why? Because he’s some big-time criminal?”

If I was hoping to get answers out of him, I was sorely mistaken. He quirked his eyebrow at me with a grin. “Look at you, trying to get answers. It’s cute.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” I sneered.

“Right, you were just asking questions. For the sake of my mental state, right?”

“Something like that,” I grumbled. “You know, it’s not good for your chi to walk around with so much hate in your life.”

“My what?”

Had I gotten that wrong? Hell, I didn’t know what I was saying or if I was pronouncing it right. I just went based on what Spencer said. He was always doing yoga and weird exercises and drinking that green shit that he thought tasted so damn good. It wasn’t. I almost vomited after drinking it once. He had no idea what that did to me. I spent endless days on the toilet as my bowels tried to rid me of whatever toxic shit he put in my drink.

“I don’t know,” I said, giving in. “Spencer always talks about all this crap. I just pretend to listen. He’s always ranting about trying to live a more peaceful life and blah, blah, blah. Half the time, I just nod and agree with what he’s saying.”

“Huh. You know, I actually get what you’re saying.”

“Yeah? You have an insane friend who likes to poison you with kale, too?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Nope. Vinegar.”

“Vinegar?” I grimaced. “You drink it?”

He nodded, his eyes wide. “Something about cleansing or some bullshit.”

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