Page 28 of Emerald

“I know,” she says calmly. “I’m completely trapped.”

She’s acting like she’s resigned to that idea, but she doesn’t fool me. I know she’ll be out of here like a rabbit the moment she gets a chance.

She’ll learn soon enough.

I go around behind her and slice the zip ties holding her to the chair.

She lets out a sigh of relief, massaging the red marks on her wrists.

I loose her ankles too, taking a step back in case she gets any bright ideas.

She just stands up, bending and stretching a little to get the blood flowing once more.

Her breasts sway as she leans first to the left, then the right.

I see the lines of her hipbones above the skimpy waistband of her panties, and the round curve of her ass as she turns to stretch.

I’m astonished that I ever mistook her for a man, even in her tactical gear. There’s never been a more luscious, feminine figure.

I can feel my cock swelling inside my boxer shorts. It presses painfully against the fly of my trousers.

I hold the folded blanket in front of me to conceal it.

“Did you bring me some clothes?” she asks, looking pointedly at the bundle of material.

“You can earn your clothes back,” I tell her. “Food and water, too. But you need to answer my questions. And not your half-truths, either. I know when you’re lying.”

“Then you should know that I have no idea who hired me,” she says angrily, tossing her dark curls over her shoulder. The movement makes her bare breasts bounce and sway once more. Goddamnit, this is so much harder than I expected.

I won’t let her distract me. I glare down into her face, standing closer than is really safe, daring her to try to hit me again.

“I want the name of your broker,” I tell her.

“I don’t know it.”

But there’s that flutter of her thick, black lashes. The slightest suggestion of a blink. It’s her tell, when she’s not being entirely honest.

“You know something about him,” I growl at her.

“How do you even know it’s a him?” she says, raising those straight black brows. “You really need to reexamine that gender bias.”

I step even closer to her.

“Youneed to rethink your strategy,” I tell her. “No one knows you’re here. No one cares. Why are you protecting this person? He’s not coming to save you. You want to draw this out, but for what? I’m the one with all the time in the world. You’re the one who’s going to get colder and hungrier by the day.”

I throw the blanket at her so she stumbles backward a little as she catches it.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it,” I tell her.

Then I leave the cell, locking the door behind me once more.

This girl is intelligent. She’s used to doing whatever she wants, when she wants. I don’t have to torture her—the boredom of captivity will do it for me. Every hour that passes is going to torment her.

I leave her alone for a few hours to sleep.

But I’m already planning our next encounter.

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