Page 53 of Wicked Sin

And until I met Luke, I hadn’t shared anything outside of those walls. Then he showed up at the right-wrong time, and suddenly my secrets didn’t protect me in the way I thought they had.

Now he’s wringing them from me one by one, getting under my skin, and I don’t know what to do about that. Touching myself to the most perverted version of him I can muster is probably not the best option. But it felt damn good, and I’m seriously tempted to do it again before I get out of bed.

A knock interrupts that plan.

“Are you up?”

He doesn’t open it, just asks me through the closed door. Perverted Fantasy Detective Vasquez wouldn’t be so polite.

“Yep,” I call out. “Be right there.”

When I get downstairs, he’s wearing his shoulder holster, and his leather jacket is draped over the chair.

“Are we going somewhere?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer my question. “You need to eat something.”

Yesterday was a day of not really eating. As much as I want to be prickly about this again, my stomach is finally ready for a light something. “Fine. Where are we going? Do they have salad?”

“I’ll get you a salad on my way back,” he says, deftly ignoring the part where I clearly want to go with him and get out of this house. “I need to head to the station. So I’m going to leave you alone for a few hours.”

“Alone? That sounds like a terrible plan.”

“If I had a better one, I’d grab it with both hands. I can’t trust anyone, Taylor.Youcan’t trust anyone.”

“That’s usually my line. And I don’t.”

“Good.” He looks at me, his gaze searching my face for God knows what. Then he nods and steps back. “So let’s go over the six different ways I’m going to make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

“What?” That’s not why I think it’s a terrible idea. “I don’t need an electronic babysitter.”

“We’ve been over this. You clearly do because you’ve made a run for it once already.”

“That was before the death threat!”

“Butafterthe bomb. So whether you like it or not—”

“I don’t.”

“Noted. You’re still being monitored. I will know if you leave. I will know where you go if you do. I will track you down and bring you back here for your own safety.”

“Rude. But at least now you’re being creepy out in the open.” And then another thought occurs to me, one that is possibly disturbing but also thrilling with just a side of disturbing. “Are there cameras in my bedroom?”

His jaw flexes. I think I must have Stockholm Syndrome because I’m coming to love that twitchy muscle.

“No. And none in the bathroom. I’m not looking to invade your privacy.”

“As long as I stay put.”

“Yeah. That’s the boundary, and I’m fine with it on an ethical level.” One corner of his mouth pulls up in a rueful smile. “Cameras are down here and outside.”

Secretly, I’m fine with it too. I was panicked there for a second at the thought of truly being alone.

He hands over an ancient looking flip phone. “I’m monitoring this, too, but I won’t leave you without a means to call 911 should something happen. Nothing will, though. But just in case.”

“Can I text my sister?”

“No.”

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