Taken and Tamed (7 page)

“N… no,” she stammered. “I’ll just stay inside.”

“Too bad.” His glance became a leer. “Tying you up—and then untying you later to spank your ass and fuck you—was a great way to kill time.”

He hated himself for saying it, hated the stricken look that came into her eyes. But he didn’t want her thinking that just because they’d had sex, she was free to treat this as a romantic getaway with a new boyfriend. Fucking her had been a mistake, but it was one he was determined not to repeat. No matter how sexy she looked. Her face scrubbed free of makeup, the sunlight glinting off her long hair, her bare feet tucked up under her on the couch; she gave off a well-fucked vibe that made him want to take her right back to bed.

He forced himself to look away and began rummaging through the cabinets. “There’s flour and baking powder and half a bottle of syrup. Can you make pancakes?”

“Sure. Find me a box of Aunt Jemima just-add-water and I’m your girl.” Her voice sounded determinedly cheery. Good. She’d put on her brave “it didn’t mean anything to me either” face.

“Never mind.” He found a mixing bowl and set to work. Neither of them had eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. Maybe these wouldn’t be the best pancakes ever, but at least they’d be hot and filling.

* * *

She watched him bustle around the kitchen with a mixture of lust and confusion. The man had kidnapped her, tied her up, spanked her ass, and then fucked her better than anyone she’d ever been with. She should be frightened out of her wits, but every instinct told her Zander Coleman, a man on the run who’d admitted to brutal crimes, would never really hurt her.

As the day wore on, she became more and more certain of it. Sure, he talked big. He’d threatened to tie her up again, made it sound like he’d practically raped her last night. But she’d never heard of a rapist who held off his own satisfaction until his victim had come—twice—then cradled her gently in his arms afterwards. Or a ruthless kidnapper who served pancakes and coffee to his hostage. She’d met her share of dangerous psychopaths. Something about this one didn’t ring true.

Maybe it was his eyes. The other men she’d interviewed, every one of them, had cold, dead eyes. They’d smile and laugh, but their eyes never reflected it. Zander’s eyes could be cold at times. But when he laughed, genuinely laughed, they sparkled with warmth. And when he looked at her, they didn’t hold rabid lust. Desire, yes. Even hunger at times. But not the kind of hunger that had her backing away in fear. Instead, it was the kind of hunger that made her long to satisfy it, spreading her legs so he could ram his thick cock into her over and over until she screamed.

But she’d been fooled in the past and she didn’t,
couldn’t
trust her instincts any more. So she kept her distance. She sat at the small dining table, typing on the laptop he’d grudgingly allowed her to dig out of her bag. Already partway through a rough outline of the book she’d write from this experience, she stayed busy making notes, putting down tiny details about the cabin so that later her readers could see it and feel it and even smell it. That is, assuming she was right about him and she lived to write it.

He’d cleaned up the kitchen, gone out to bring in an armload of wood they’d need for the fireplace tonight. But he hadn’t said another word. Now he’d been sitting, unmoving, just staring at the cold ashes, for over an hour. He glanced over at her.

“We’ll need more wood for tonight. I’m going out back to chop some. There’s no Internet here, so I know you can’t email anyone for help. There’s no cell service either, but I’m still taking my phone with me, so don’t bother looking for it.” He got up and headed for the door. “Stay put till I come back in.”

The minute the door closed behind him, Cass shot to her feet. Her suitcase and cosmetic bag were back in the hotel room she’d checked into in Atlanta, so all she had were the clothes on her back. He was right. She wouldn’t get far in the woods barefoot. But the dress shoes he’d worn yesterday were around here somewhere. With a pair of socks stuffed into the toes, she could wear those and get through the thorny briars as far as the car. She had a spare key hidden above the rear tire, in one of those magnetic key boxes. As soon as she heard him chopping, she’d make a mad dash for the car and be gone.

He changed clothes in the loft last night, so the shoes must be up there. She took the stairs at a dead run.

One big open space overlooking the first floor, the loft had four single beds lined up across from the log railing, dormitory-style. Glass covered most of one side wall up here too, so that guests could wake up and fall asleep to that magnificent view. On the other side of the room, a couple of battered wooden dressers sat on either side of a smaller window.

Zander’s suit lay where he’d tossed it on one of the beds, with his shoes on the floor right below it. She snatched up the shoes and spent a few precious seconds opening and closing drawers. Finally she found one holding a pile of Wal-Mart–style plaid boxers and some rolled-up socks. She stuffed a pair into the toes of each shoe and took another pair to wear.

Back downstairs, she risked a peek out the rear window. He’d stripped off his t-shirt and was hard at work, a fine sheen of sweat covering impressive muscles that rippled under his skin with every move. He had a couple of nasty scars on his lower back that she hadn’t noticed last night. Knife wounds? Bullet holes? From here it was impossible to tell. In his line of work, it could have been either.

She spared a few extra moments to drink in the sight of him. Balancing a large, cut log upright on an old stump, he’d swing the axe, imbedding it deeply in the wood. Then he’d lift his arms, bringing both the axe and the round log up in the air, before slamming them down again on the stump. With a sharp crack, the wood split in two. The blade kept on going, burying itself in the tree stump. He’d heave the axe blade out of the stump, pick up one of the broken halves, stand it on end, and do it again until he reduced the round log into wedges small enough to catch fire easily.

His movements were angry, aggressive, as though he were taking a lifetime of frustration out on the logs. Fear came flooding back, along with the memory of those big rough hands holding her down and spanking her ass until she cried.

“Whatever he’s so cranky about, better he takes it out on those logs than on me,” Cass muttered to herself, backing away from the window. With any luck, the next time she laid eyes on him, she’d be on the witness stand and he’d be sitting next to his attorney in the front row of a courtroom.

She yanked a thick pair of socks over her bare feet, stuffed them into the black dress shoes and ran for the door. Even with thick socks and extra padding in the toes, she nearly left the shoes behind with every step. She felt like one of those clowns in the circus, not so much running as flopping along. She realized it would have been faster to put the shoes on when she got to the edge of the porch.

Once outside she didn’t stop until she was crouched out of sight behind the back bumper. Frantically, she felt for the key. Oh, God. It wasn’t there. What if he’d found it, taken it like he’d taken her shoes? Just when she was about to cry with frustration and despair, her hand closed around the metal box.

She listened for a moment to make sure she still heard the rhythmic thunk of the axe before she opened the door and slid behind the wheel, closing it softly. She put her foot on the gas pedal, then swore, pulling off the stupid clown shoes and tossing them in the back seat. Turning the key, she floored the car, backing almost all the way into the porch before she hit the brakes, slammed into forward and took off.

She’d gone only a few hundred yards before she found herself hitting the brakes again. She’d never driven in the mountains before and even if she had, this steep dirt road would have scared her to death. Driving as fast as she dared, Cass rounded a curve and gasped. This stretch of road seemed even narrower than she remembered it from yesterday, running between a wall of rock on the right side and the edge of a cliff on the left. She slowed to a crawl, trying not to let her eyes stray to the dizzying drop-off as she gave herself a pep talk. The road would get better soon. If memory served her, it widened out again just around the blind curve ahead.

She rounded the next curve and screamed, slamming on the brakes and wrenching the wheel hard to the right as the front wheels skidded toward the cliff. Zander stood in front of her, blocking the road. Blood oozed from dozens of scratches on his bare chest, mingling with the sweat. The axe dangled from one huge paw. Cass stifled a hysterical bout of laughter. He
HHe HHHH
looked like the battered villain who just won’t die from the final scene of a blockbuster action flick.

He took a step forward. Frantically, she locked all the doors, then looked around. There was nowhere to go. She couldn’t back up and even if she did, it would just put her back on top of the mountain in front of the cabin. The only way out was to floor it and run over him.

She tried. Really, she did. At least that’s what she told herself afterwards. She put one foot on the brake and the other on the accelerator, revving the engine hard, bracing herself for the moment of impact. But he never flinched. Just stared at her, daring her to kill him in cold blood. No trace of warmth in his piercing blue eyes now.

He walked toward the driver’s side, didn’t even glance down at the hundred-foot drop just inches from his feet. Heart pounding, head slumped in defeat, she unlocked the door and slid over to the passenger’s seat.

He got in without a word and took the car another quarter mile down the steep lane until he found a spot wide enough to turn around. It took a while, backing up only a couple of feet at a time, working the car around slowly until he could point it back uphill. The whole time he never said a word, never even looked at her. But his hands clenched the steering wheel so hard, she thought he’d crush it.

When they got back to the clearing, he turned the car off and sat slumped over the wheel for what seemed like forever, unmoving. Finally he spoke without turning his head.

“Inside. Now.”

“I…”

The look he gave her nearly stopped her heart. “I. Said. Get. Inside. Now.”

Quaking with fear, she reached into the back seat and slipped on his shoes before opening the car door and heading back into the cabin. He must have heard the car leaving and made a mad dash through the woods to cut her off around that curve without even stopping to grab his shirt. Judging from the sight of him, he’d charged halfway down the mountain straight through more than one tangle of nasty thorns to beat her there.

Cass knew one thing for sure—the dozens of bloody scratches crisscrossing his chest wouldn’t improve his mood any. She stepped inside the cabin and kicked off his shoes.

He stormed in, slamming the door behind him.

“Take off your clothes.”

She started to back away, her eyes wide.

“Take off your clothes or I’ll rip them off you in shreds.”

There was no hint of desire in his eyes this time. Just cold fury. Hands trembling, she took off her black jacket. Stalling for time, she folded it and laid it carefully on the couch. One glance at his face told her his anger was mounting with every second. She put aside the idea of another alluring striptease and pulled off her t-shirt, then unzipped the black pants and let them drop to the floor.

She stood in front of him once again in her bra and panties, with his thick white socks coming nearly to her knees.
I must look ridiculous,
she thought
.

You self-absorbed idiot!
Cass’s rational mind took over, berating her.
You’re facing a criminal who looks like he’s in a homicidal rage and all you can think about is how you look in his sweat socks? You think the fashion police are going to issue a citation to your corpse?

The thought set off a wave of hysterical giggles she tried desperately to suppress. Zander’s hands were clenched into huge fists held tight against his body, as though they’d develop a mind of their own and reach out to strangle her if he wasn’t careful. His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward.

Hastily, Cass unsnapped the bra and let it fall. Then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of the flimsy lace panties and pulled them down, sliding off the socks at the same time.

“Bend over the arm of the couch.”

Cass scrapped Plan A. There’d be no chance to drape herself over his lap and wiggle seductively against his groin this time with the hope of getting his little head to override his big one. Half a dozen hesitant steps took her to the couch. She bent forward, shivering a little as her skin made contact with the cold leather.

“Cross your arms in front of you and lay your head on them.”

She heard him walking across the floor, then rummaging in the kitchen. Cass sneaked a look. He had his back to her, reaching for a wooden cutting board near the stove. It was oblong, maybe ten by twelve inches, with a short wooden handle on one end that had a hole in the center so it could hang on the wall.

He headed for the couch, slapping the board against his palm with every step.

“I warned you.” His voice cold. Cold and hard. “I told you if you obeyed the rules, you wouldn’t get punished. I said I’d let you go as soon as I could.”

He was right behind her now.

“But you didn’t listen.”

She heard the
swish,
then let out a scream
as the paddle connected with her ass. Cass jerked up, but his hand shoved her back down. Fingers splayed across the middle of her back, he held her firmly in place as he smacked her again.

“You just had to disobey. So now you’re getting an old-fashioned ass whuppin’, as my granny would have said.” He gave her another harsh whack and she screamed again. “Then you’re going to stand in the corner for a while with your hands behind your head, like a naughty little girl. And I’m taking away all your clothes. From now on, you’ll be naked. Trust me, you don’t want to head through the woods that way. Those thorns hurt like hell.”