Page 12 of Outlaw
“You won’t be needing this.” He pockets my cell phone, and the next thing I know, my clutch is hurtling through the air toward me. My fingers catch it just in time to avoid a fumble and grip the beaded accessory to my chest.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Give me my phone back!”
He’s halfway across the parking lot toward the clubhouse when he pivots around to face me, his face half in shadows. “Yeah. That’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”
I know I should keep it cool and maintain the act, but his attitude is getting to me. “Don’t you sweetheart me, you thug! You can’t take away my only form of communication and expect me to be okay with it. I’m not just going to roll over and play dead for you.”
“I have my reasons for taking this away.” He keeps walking as if I hadn’t said a word to him.
“You said you didn’t kidnap me, but you’re starting to act like you did.”
He doesn’t break stride as I struggle to walk across the gravel in my black stilettos to catch up with him. I only just wore these Christian Louboutin’s once before, and now they’re ruined. Just like my dress.
Crap.
And what is this man’s deal, anyway? Does he expect to keep me here? What is his end game, and what will happen to me while I’m cooped up in this place? A million scenarios cross my mind, but a brief stint as his sex slave doesn’t sound half bad.
“Look, as long as you’re here, we have to cut your contact with the outside world. Someone out there wants you, and we don’t want them finding you here. These are my people. I keep them safe. That’s my job. And I guess it’s my new job to keep you in the clear too.”
“I told you I don’t need your help.”
He ignores my comment and continues on. “We like our privacy around here. Trust is a big deal. I don’t want anything getting outside our circle.”
“I never asked to be here.”
“Yeah. Whatever. As I was saying, you don’t have my trust yet, so if you earn it by being straight up, we can talk about your phone.”
Staying calm won’t be easy with this man. “Well, I don’t trust you either. Who made you my guardian? I never said I needed your help. Now give me my cell so I can call a cab. I’ll be out of your hair in a snap. That way, no one’s privacy will be in jeopardy because of me.” I slip in front of him as he strides through the raucous crowd toward what looks like the front door to the clubhouse.
“It’s not that simple.” He snatches my hand again before I can protest, and tugs me into the dim, smoky foyer of his man cave.
“Seriously—” The door slams shut on my ass, but the small gasp I let out in response doesn’t compare to the reaction of everyone else in the open concept bar-slash-dancefloor-slash-games-room as they turn to look at us. Outright glares and intense stares come from more than a couple dozen strangers. “No, not that simple at all.”
