Weak? Puny?
Trying to save face for the nose job I gave you?
She couldn’t worry about her father. It would cloud her thoughts, compromise her instincts. Besides, he could take care of himself. “What do you plan to do with Blue?”
“Me? Nothing.” Tyson removed his jacket, revealing the pyre-guns sheathed at his sides. “Your man made a mistake challenging my father. He’ll make sure Blue understands that before he kills him.”
Have to escape. Have to save him. “What are you going to do with me?”
There was a pitcher of water on the dresser. He poured himself a glass and drained the contents. His features were pinched as he said, “To be honest, I haven’t figured that out yet.”
He wasn’t as hard-core as his father or he would have hurt her already. She could work with that.
If possible, establish camaraderie. “Will you cut me loose, at least? Please. I don’t have any weapons. I don’t even know where I am. There’s nothing I can do to you while I’m this weak, and nowhere I can go.”
He ignored her, lifting her purse. “I remembered the weapons you had in the last bag, so I thought I’d find a treasure trove in this one after I peeled it from your unconscious body. Instead, all I found was toys.” He sneered. “Just one of many mistakes you’ve made.”
Each one of those toys will drop and sock you, boyo. “What can I say? I’m easily bored.”
“That’s because you had a rich, pampered childhood. Unlike Tiffany and me, who were punished for every wrong we ever committed, real or otherwise.” He poured another glass and brought this one to her, placing the cup at her lips.
She drank greedily, desperate to wash the soot from her throat. When she finished, she licked her mouth and, to relax him, offered a small smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re lucky I decided to keep you,” he said tightly, “rather than let my father do what he wanted to do to you.” He set the cup aside and traced his knuckles along her jaw.
She flinched from the contact, acting the part of the frightened little lamb.
A muscle ticked under his eye. “I’m not a bad guy, Miss Black.”
Okay. Screw camaraderie. A statement that grotesquely wrong couldn’t be ignored. “Your father has kidnapped and killed innocent people. He removed the skin of a living man. He bombed two of my father’s homes. This time you helped him. So, yes, you’re a bad guy.”
He scowled down at her. “Is this the part where you try to convince me to help you prove I’m nothing like the man who sired me? Well, let me save you the trouble. No one challenges my father, and that includes me. I’ve never bucked the system, for myself or my sister, and I certainly won’t do it for you. A pretty woman whose sharp little tongue ruins everything.”
Only a strong man could truly appreciate a strong woman. “Tyson,” she said, once again going for frightened little lamb.
His scowl morphed into the semblance of a smile. “Bet you wish you’d been nicer to me over the years, huh?”
With that, he strode from the room, shutting her inside.
Over the years?
She’d encountered him at a few parties, she was sure, but she couldn’t recall being rude to him specifically.
You’ve been rude to everyone.
Okay. True.
There was no clock, so she couldn’t track time. She only knew an eternity passed. Her stomach growled. Her bladder filled and began to hurt. She worried about Blue, about what was being done to him. Had Michael been well enough to follow Tyson here? Was her father aware she had the isotope in her blood? That he could track her the same way Star tracked Tiffany?
Maybe not. But if Tiffany was here . . . He could track her.
Would Star really be that stupid, though?
Finally, Tyson returned. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothing wrinkled. There were lipstick stains on his collar, and he reeked of smoke, alcohol, and sex.
“I’ll be nicer to you,” she said with as much eagerness as she could muster. “Please. Just free me. I have to use the bathroom.”
“I know you’ll be nicer, Miz Black. You’ve had time to think and you’ve realized it’ll be better for you to make friends with me and do whatever I tell you.” Smirking, he stumbled to her side and untied her, surprising her.
Don’t leap into action. Wait. Plan.
He remained at her side, rather than offering to escort her to the bathroom. She rubbed at her wrists. Was he too drunk to remember her major badassery skills? Or did he think the threat over Blue would keep her docile? Yeah. That one. Typical bully move.
“What time is it?” she asked in an effort to keep him relaxed.
“Midnight. The time for lovers,” he said with a leering grin.
Gah! Gonna play that game, were they? “Is Blue here? In this house?”
“Still worried about him? How sweet. Well, you’ll be happy to know he is indeed here, and he’s alive. Barely. We wanted you close to him, just in case we needed to convince him to behave.” His gaze bored into hers. “But I’d be better off killing you, I think. I can’t ever let you go. You know too much.”
“Know too much? Me? Nah,” she said. “Besides, I’d never tell.”
“Liar,” he said, and slapped her.
A trickle of blood ran through her mouth. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Do not do that again.”
“You are known for your brutal sense of truth, and yet you dare lie to me? When I hold your fate in my hands?”
“You’re right. I do know too much, and I will tell. But I’m going to hurt you real bad first.”
“Doubtful.” His head tilted to the side as he studied her. “I left a club full of women desperate to warm my bed. For you. Last time we were together, I was too concerned for my sister to feel much for you. Now I don’t want to have what I’ve already had when I can have something new.”
Plan: kill him, find Blue.
Done.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked. “I’m assuming you’ll beat me if I refuse.”
To kill him: rip out his larynx? Yeah. That would work. It was satisfying (for her), and quiet. Any guards posted outside the door would remain unaware.
“You’re assuming correctly.” His eyes brightened with triumph. “But I’ll even throw in a bonus and let you earn medical treatments for Blue.”
Wanker. “Such as?”
“First up, you’re going to suck me off, and in return I’m going to have someone realign Blue’s spine. See how kind I can be?” He stood and stalked to the dresser, though he never took his gaze off her. His fingers toyed with the button on his jeans. “What do you think?”