Free Hostage Page 10

  “Bullshit! Bullshit, and you know it,” Collin fires back. “Bull. Shit. You can’t force her to room with you. It’s not happening.”

  A humorless, ephemeral laugh from Jaxon. “Unfortunately, the decision is not up to you, Col.” His frosty blue eyes drop from Collin to me, a barely there, damn near imperceptible crook to his lips. And, locking his gaze with mine, he does it yet again.

  He holds me hostage.

  With just his eyes, he strips me and seduces my soul. He taunts me. He dares me. Dares me to turn down his bullcrap proposal. He dares me to stay out of his room, out of his bed.

  He dares me.

  And I’m weakened. Undermined. Overturned.

  I already know.

  I already know what I want.

  I already know that I want him.

  The decision is not up to Collin, nor up to him. It’s up to me.

  And from the victorious gleam in Jaxon’s eyes, he already knows what my decision will be.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

  I’m in Collin’s room, and he’s blocking the door, keeping me in. After Jaxon’s high-handed decree and their intense stare-off, Collin dragged me upstairs to “have a word.”

  I fiddle with the hem of his oversize T-shirt I’m currently wearing. “I know.”

  He studies me for several seconds, and deduces with a shake of his head and a sigh, “But you want to.”

  “He…” I trail off, worrying my lip. My glasses fog up as sexy thoughts flood my usually platonic head. I take them off and wipe the lenses with the hem of the cotton T-shirt. I feel shy and awkward and stupid, but I confess anyway. “He sets me on fire.”

  More head shaking, and then a chuckle. “Listen to you. You sound like a high school virgin. Jaxon will eat you for breakfast.”

  It makes me blush furiously as I imagine Jaxon doing that very thing to me. Just the thought of it has me burning from the top of my ears to the tips of my toes.

  Yes. I was correct. He sets me on fire.

  “Jaxon…” Collin goes on. “He’s not the kind of guy you wanna get involved with. He’ll play with you. He’ll get inside your head and have a field day there. Stay with me and I can protect you, but once you go to him, there won’t be much I can do.”

  Except, I’m not afraid of danger. I’m not afraid of his claws or fangs or his darkness, or whatever his weapon is. I’m not afraid.

  No, I’m aroused. I’m burning and aching and bursting at the seams. I want to open up and let him claw me to shreds. I want to bare him my jugular and let him drain my blood. I want to dim my light and let him flood me with his darkness.

  Oh, bloody Mary, I’m insane to want these things. I’ve never wanted, or ached for, or desired anything in my life like this. And the first time I do, it’s for him? A liar and a thief? A juggler of hearts and collector of tears?

  What is wrong with me? I know better than this!

  Except, I do know what is wrong with me—I’m not my own anymore.

  The moment he kissed me in that lift, he branded me and made me his. It’s so true that kisses in Paris are magic.

  “Who is this Nadine woman?” I blurt out, recalling Kavon’s earlier statement about Jaxon’s bed. And my jealous fury at the whole coffee machine incident with her in the kitchen earlier. “What is she to him, anyway?”

  I pray she’s just a mark.

  Collin kicks one foot back against the door and watches me pityingly. “I’ve no idea, to be honest. Those two had this on-again, off-again thing going long before any of us came into the picture. I think they’re childhood friends or something. She knows more about him than any of us. Incidentally, we know next to nothing about him. In fact, before you and your friend showed up, Nadine was the only guest ever allowed in the house. We’ve got no problem with her. She’s pretty badass. So badass, even Jo likes her. But as far as the status of her and Jaxon’s relationship goes, I don’t know. Just…odd, I guess.”

  I try not to grind my teeth. “Odd, how?”

  He shrugs. “Dunno. Just odd.”

  Unable to communicate on this choppy level, I seek clarification. “Are they exclusive or not? As in, are they in love?”

  Collin blinks at me. Blinks again. Then he bursts out laughing. “Did you— Did you seriously just use the word love in reference to Jaxon?”

  I frown. “What’s so funny about that?”

  “You got a lot to learn about the man you’re choosing to share a bed with, Nerd Girl.” Collin pushes away from the door, walks up to me, and peers down. “I can tell you this, though, I dunno what happened between you two, but based on what I witnessed earlier, it appears you’ve made him temporarily stupid.”

  Huh? “I don’t understand.”

  “Timber, Jaxon is the master of deceit and mind control. The guy can make you believe anything, do anything, all without you ever realizing you’ve been manipulated. But what happened downstairs…that was so weak and transparent. Amateur. It just wasn’t…him. If Jaxon wants you in his bed, he’s gonna make you believe you are the one who wants to be in his bed. He’s gonna have you begging to be in his bed, tricked into believing he’s not interested in having you in his bed. That’s just how he works.”

  Well, in that case, I guess he succeeded, because I’m dying to be in his bed.

  And if he’s the one who mind-screwed me into thinking I want to be there, then I can honestly say I’m glad he did. Yep, I’m glad he did, and I’m hoping he mind-controls me into much more than just being in his bed.

  Sure, Nadine is gorgeous, but strangely, I’m not feeling threatened.

  I look up at Collin. “I want him.”

  With a sigh, he ruffles my bangs. “Unfortunately, he wants you, too.”

  “Unfortunately?”

  “Yes, unfortunately. Because we know he wants you, but we don’t know why.”

  I’m a little hurt by the implication. Because, of course he couldn’t just be attracted to me.

  Collin steps around me, crosses the room, and dives onto bed. He locks his hands behind his head and his T-shirt rides up, showing me a peek of his blond trail.

  “You got a big brain, Nerd Girl. For every second you’re with him, I suggest you use it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  While I was upstairs with Collin, a package arrived for Melanie. A hard-case consisting of both our laptops, two new cell phones, and some of our most reliable gadgets. That damn Melanie.

  Suspicious—and I would be disappointed if they weren’t—the team took our devices apart and checked them for bugs. Once satisfied, they were pieced back together and Eduardo and Kavon retired to their rooms. Collin got dressed and left to go see his friend, Simone. And Melanie successfully convinced Jo to let her room with her.

  Now, at minutes to eleven, I sit alone in the living room with the TV on and boxes of new clothes surrounding me.

  With nothing to do and no one to talk to, I log into my computer and check my emails. My inbox is inundated with new proposals from companies I’ve done contract jobs for around the world. Emails of this nature I always just relocate to my overflowing folder called Alternatives.

  There are three emails from my sister checking up on my well-being and whereabouts, each one more pressing than the last. I hit reply and type up a quick but reassuring email.

  Just as I hit send, I feel a brush of heat at the back of neck.

  Jaxon has entered the room.

  Slamming my laptop shut, I twist around on the sofa and find him leaning against one of the big columns, his focus on me.

  “Hi,” I say with an awkward wave.

  He doesn’t return the wave. “You plan on letting me back into my account?”

  I tsk. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether you let me choose what side of the bed will be mine.”

  His head dips, and I think I glimpse something like a smile, but it’s possible I imagined it, because when
he lifts his head again, his usual non-expression is firmly in place.

  He strides across the room and stacks my boxes, one on top of the other, into two sets. He picks up the first set. “Come on.”

  When I stand and make to pick up the second set, he stops me. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll come back for those. Just get your laptop.”

  I’m surprised by this. Because it’s kind of…nice. Almost gentlemanly. Not what I was expecting.

  Picking up my laptop and cell phone, I follow where he leads. We go down the long hall, enter his office, then make an oblique left.

  There’s a red door. One I apparently missed the first two times I was in here.

  He nudges it open with the side of his body so he can get through with the boxes.

  Jaxon’s bedroom.

  In contrast to Collin’s put-together room, Jaxon’s room is twice the size and, well, surprisingly boyish. First off, a huge batman mask is mounted to the wall over his headboard. To the left of his closet doors stands a life-size Star Wars Stormtrooper statue. Framed comics are scattered on the walls all around the room. Two Hulk hands sit atop a chest of drawers. To the right of another red door that I assume leads to an en suite bathroom, is a life-size statue of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

  I’m a little lost for words.

  I feel like I shouldn’t be here. It all feels so…personal. Like the kind of room a grown man would be mortified to let a woman see. Things he would throw sheets and towels over so people wouldn’t think him a geek. No wonder he never lets anyone in here.

  So, why would he let me in? Why would he let me see it all?

  Is it because I’m an even bigger geek?

  Except, I’m not this kind of geek. I don’t read comics or watch Star Wars. I’m a facts geek. I get hot over theories and documentaries. I like learning how things work, the truths of the world, real life lessons. Therefore, I’m über-selective about the kind of fiction I read when I want to shut my brain off. And comics are most assuredly not in that pool.

  Where I’m a reality nerd, Jaxon is a fantasy nerd.

  “I’m not a geek,” he mutters to the room as he heads toward the closet.

  I ask his back, “Is this your room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re a geek.”

  “Not gonna defend myself to you,” he returns. “Come here.”

  I go there.

  His chin jerks to the closet door, a wordless request to open it for him.

  When I do, he walks in and deposits the boxes on the floor.

  It’s a huge space. Multiple racks and shelves hold different shades of suits and trousers and sweaters and denims—the usual things one would find in a closet. And while I’d like to say, “Nothing new here,” I can’t, because a wide rack at the back, along with a few shelves above it, hold all kinds of getups and disguises—legit uniforms, ranging from police to firemen to security guards. Lab coats, scrubs, and army camo. Masks and wigs.

  Welcome to the closet of a pro con.

  It both thrills and scares me.

  He waves a hand to a section of empty shelves beside a full-length mirror. “You can use these. I also emptied the two top drawers of the dresser for you.”

  Okay. He’d emptied a drawer and cleared closet shelves for me. Which proves how sure he’d been that I would choose to room with him.

  Should I call it arrogance…or should I melt?

  Instead, something niggles at the back of my mind.

  Why is he letting me in like this? Where is the caution? The mistrust? The suspicion that should be there?

  I don’t like this. I don’t trust it. Of all the men in the world, why did I have to choose the bed of a faker who is about to do nothing but mess with my head?

  “Beneath the Hulk’s hands?” I turn to him. “What if he rips all my knickers?”

  His blink is a slow, lazy one. “Then I guess you’ll be sleeping panty-less under my sheets.”

  A-n-nd there it goes again, the burning blush from my ears to my toes.

  I take a leisurely minute to imagine myself panty-less under Jaxon sheets. Maybe while wearing the lab coat from his closet. Unbuttoned.

  Bloody hell. Since when did my brain deem it appropriate to formulate these kind of risqué thoughts?

  “I’ll just, uh—” I clear my throat. “Um…unpack these and…”

  But he’s already out of the closet, on his way out of the room.

  A few minutes later, he returns with the last set of boxes. But he doesn’t bring them into the closet. He deposits them in front of the chest of drawers. Those are the boxes with my undergarments, and apparently he’s aware of that. Which means he went through them before he brought them.

  Pervert.

  I refocus on unpacking.

  “Clean towels and washcloths are in the bathroom,” he calls. “New toothbrushes and floss are in the bottom cabinet. Heading out. Be back in a bit.”

  I instinctively ask, “Where are you going?”

  A pause. “To get something to eat.”

  Why does he always go out to eat? I’ve noticed that everyone else eats here when Kavon cooks, except Jaxon. Does he think he’s better than us? An Upstairs, Downstairs thing?

  I kick an empty box aside and start on another one. “Mel cooked, you know. There’s plenty.”

  A longer pause. “I’m vegan.”

  Oh. Well, that clears things up. “Do you really trust me enough to leave me in your room unattended?”

  “I don’t.” I hear movements, something rustling. I don’t look. “But I do know you aren’t stupid.”

  The words are said in the most benign tone, but I can literally feel the threat emanating through them like steam. He’s letting me know I’d be stupid to attempt anything.

  Ha. What he calls stupid, I call brave and daring.

  Arching backward a little, I peek out the closet door.

  He’s gone.

  Every fool knows you never start snooping on the first moment of trust handed to you. Not when doubts and suspicions still levitate like germs in the air. You will walk right into a trap.

  Clearly, he does think I’m that stupid.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I shower using Jaxon’s über-masculine body gel and emerge from the bathroom smelling like him.

  Like lies and deceit.

  And I love it.

  It takes me forever to choose a nightgown because they’re all so…so…tiny. I cannot even begin to describe how uncomfortable I feel in the short, pink silk nightgown and lace boy shorts I settle on. I feel exposed and awkward.

  For a moment, I contemplate using a needle to undo the stitches in the hem of the gown to get that extra half inch of length, but considering the thing is just barely below my butt cheeks, I figure it won’t make that much of a difference. I bury myself under the sheets in Jaxon’s bed instead.

  A little too late, I realize there’s no telly in the room. Crap! How does he not have a telly in his bedroom?! How can I possibly fall asleep in here?

  Starting to panic, I glance wildly around the room, rethinking my decision. Collin is normal. He’s got a telly in his room, and he keeps it on for me. Jaxon’s not normal. He has Hulk hands instead of a damn telly.

  Nope. Nope. This arrangement won’t work. No matter how badly I want to be kissed by Jaxon. He’s a closet geek who doesn’t keep a telly in his bedroom.

  I swing out of bed, grab my cell phone from the nightstand, and flee from the room like a bat in daylight.

  Two at a time, I take the stairs up to Collin’s room. Ah, blessed telly!

  The panic disburses in one long exhalation as I clamber onto Collin’s ridiculously high bed, snatch up the remote, and bring the telly to life.

  We all have fears. Some are rational. Most aren’t. But both can be detrimental to our purpose. Sure, moving back to Collin’s room will be a setback to getting the music box, but my peace of mind is far more valuable.

  Or so I think.

  Cha
pter Fifteen

  Silence wakes me.

  Loud silence and complete darkness.

  Silence, to my ears, is as loud as gunshots, so the moment the room is plunged into quietude, I jackknife up in bed, heart racing, panic galloping.

  Reaching blindly to the nightstand, I find my glasses and chuck them on. At once, my focus is drawn to the upright rectangle of light streaming into the room, silhouetted with a masculine figure.

  What’s he doing here?

  “Jaxon?”

  I watch his outline as it pivots into the room and strides over to the bed. One hand moves, and the bedside lamp comes on.

  Shoulders tense, he stares down at me. Seeming…peeved.

  “You turned off the telly?” I say, a half question, half statement.

  “You were asleep.”

  “So?”

  “So, I turned it off.”

  “And it woke me up.” I’m annoyed now.

  He takes a step back. “How, exactly, does turning off the TV wake you up?”

  Beneath the sheets, my fingers curl into useless fists. “Because of…silence! You woke me up with the silence, you clueless sod!”

  I’m officially freaking out.

  Why am I freaking out? Lights are on. Jaxon is here, talking. Stop freaking out!

  His lips part. He blinks. “Oh. I forgot. I’m sorry.” He touches two long fingers to the mattress, near my thigh, and drags them back and forth, back and forth, pensive. “Is that why you’re here? Because there’s no TV in my room?”

  I nod. “Sorry. I can’t sleep in silence or complete darkness. Silence is deafening for me, and darkness makes it even louder.”

  He nods again. “I don’t watch much TV. When I do wanna watch something, I download it to my computer.”

  “Jolly.” I need to get back to sleep. “Do you mind turning the telly back on, please?”

  “I can get one set up for you tomorrow.”

  “That’s nice. But for tonight, I’m staying where the telly is.” I pat the mattress, feel around. “Where did you put the remote?”