UNDER BY DURESS (3 page)

He was really out of it.
Thank God
.

She pulled an arm back, supporting the small of his back with her knee. It was a struggle to make the cuff lock and she wished she’d paid more attention those times Stephen had manacled her to their bed.

When the lock finally clicked, she checked it was not too tight. If it was, she would have a problem—she hadn’t checked she had a matching key. Luckily, her little finger fit between the metal and his wrist. She dragged his other wrist around and forced it into the other cuff before closing that one too. Only then did she feel safe.

Wriggling out from behind him, she laid his head gently back. Blood coated her hand. She parted his hair and groaned. The back of his head was split open. She moved around him to inspect his trapped foot. It was stuck fast. Tahima fetched a crowbar and ripped the step apart. She ignored her shoulder’s protest—using it would do it good.

When his foot was free she clapped the leg irons on his ankles. Then she grabbed Rossini under his armpits and dragged him over the threshold and into the hall. He had lost his tie and his collar was already open so she just undid another button. Then she unhooked the barbed wires from his shirt and switched a fresh cartridge into the gun.

He moaned. His eyelids fluttered. When he started to gag, Tahima placed the stun gun down and rolled him over. She supported him as he threw up on the wood floor, his whole body straining from the effort. When he had finished, he flexed his muscles and discovered his restraints.

He froze.

Then his eyes opened and squinted at her. He struggled to move. “What the
fuck
?”

Tahima quickly crawled out of his way as he rolled onto his back.
Hell and water
. She’d trussed up one of the most dangerous men in the state with only seconds to spare.

His eyes shot towards her. Pain flashed across his face then his eyes closed. He’d passed out again. Tahima felt a little faint herself. She was so out of her depth. She needed help.

Rising to her feet, she stepped over Rossini’s unconscious body and raced to the den. She stopped dead just inside the door. The display on the radio was blank. The microphone had been pulled out of its socket and its spiral wire cut. She felt a growing alarm. Further inspection revealed the internal circuitry had been sabotaged.

Anger flooded her.
Bastard
! The UHF transceiver was her lifeline. Without it she was incommunicado, no doubt what he’d intended. He probably hadn’t radioed for help at all. She shook her head: the channel button was not in its normal position and she’d heard him talking. A nasty suspicion ran through her mind. Perhaps he had, but not the help she wanted landing on her front step.

She moved back to the hall. Rossini was still out of it and the room stank of vomit. Gritting her teeth, Tahima got a bowl of water, a spare bowl and paper towel, and cleaned up his mess. Then she sprayed the room with lavender and opened the windows. The sun was setting so she flicked the lights on.

Now she could get near him without gagging, she got fresh towels and water, and placed it by his head. She parted his hair matted with blood until she found the congealing wound. She pressed around it, searching for swelling, but found nothing untoward. Trouble was her medical knowledge was limited. However, she did know to clean the cut properly.

Rossini stayed unconscious throughout. It felt strange tending to him like this. A guilty part of her enjoyed washing the blood out of his hair, drying his face with the towel. She cut band aid into thin strips to close the wound.

A thought struck. She should check him for weapons.

She had just time to pat him down when his eyes opened. His lips parted in shock as she snatched her hands from his crotch.

He struggled briefly then relaxed. “More to you than I thought,” he whispered. “What the hell did you hit me with?”

Tahima flushed. “Firewood.”

He tried to shake his head and moaned. “No, before that.”

“Oh. A stun gun.”

He smiled weakly. “A small mercy.” His eyes found and searched hers. “So, Tahima . . .” His voice dropped. “Now you have me—defenseless—what do you intend to do with me?”

Tahima’s mind spiraled into free dive. “Do with you?” she managed to say.

“You found the radio?”

Her voice went tight. “Yes.”

“Try to understand. I couldn’t risk you alerting the authorities. I want you to know I did not kill my father . . . even though he had it coming.”

The cold edge to his voice restored her senses. She gathered the bowl and bloodied cloths and stood up.

“Wait. You haven’t answered my question.” His voice had regained its earlier arrogance. He was feeling stronger.

“You’re in no position to ask.”

“And you’re in crud up to your neck. I’m the only one who can make sure you don’t drown in it.”

Tahima paled. “Who did you call?”

“People loyal to me. And when I don’t turn up, they’re going to come looking for me. Look, this is easy to fix. Let me go and I give you my word no harm will befall you.”

“I don’t believe you. What frequency did you use?”

His face closed. “A special one.”

Tahima looked at him disbelievingly then placed the bowl back in the kitchen, walked down the hall and into her bedroom. Gramps’ bedroom. Every muscle in her body ached. She lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling and tried to think.

Forget he was a dom. Forget that in normal circumstances he had the power to tie her up in knots— figuratively and literally. The point was that, for the moment, a dangerous man wanted for murder was helpless and in her control. She calculated how long she had before his
people
arrived.

A thumping sound forced her to investigate. She opened her door and blinked in surprise. Rossini had managed to sit himself up against the wall, although he looked a little green and was breathing heavily.

He threw her a nasty look, obviously upset with his predicament. “I need a drink. Or are you going to deny your prisoner water?”

Tahima felt her face tighten. It would serve him right. She walked past him to the kitchen, refilled the glass he had used earlier, got mouthwash from the bathroom and a bowl. “Spit into this first,” she ordered.

He raised his eyebrows then nodded. She knelt beside him and held the water to his lips so he could drink. He rinsed his mouth then spat into the bowl she held up. She offered the mouthwash and he swished his mouth with that. He spat again into the bowl then indicated the glass. She held it to his mouth so he could sip the water.

“Thanks,” he muttered once he’d had enough.

Surprised by the acknowledgment, she nodded and set the glass, bowl and mouthwash down away from him. Her eyes traced the line of his jaw up to his cheekbone. Damn, he was attractive—devastatingly so with those dark, brown eyes glittering with anger. Or frustration. She couldn’t tell which.

Rossini was studying her back with equal intensity and her heart clenched at the thought of those eyes mentally undressing her . . .

His eyes narrowed. “Have you thought about what I said?”

Tahima dragged her mind out the gutter. “Yes.”

“And?”

She pulled herself together. “We can’t stay here.”

He looked confused. “We?”

“I’m not waiting here to be killed. I’m not leaving you here to come after me either. I’m turning you in.”

His jaw dropped. “Are you insane?”

“We’re heading down the mountain, the long way around. There’s a hunter’s cabin we can stay at overnight. It’s out of season and not well known. It should be empty. I know this area well. Your people don’t. They’ll look for you on the direct route to town.”

He shook his head and winced. “They’ll work out what happened and track us. And don’t imagine I’m going to cooperate. You’d be better off shooting me dead now, except you can’t. You’ve got no guns.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Call it an educated guess. Look, you’ve done well so far, but taking me down the mountain is a whole other ballgame. Don’t do it, Tahima. You’ll get us both killed.”

He was very convincing and for a brief moment, she wavered.

“This isn’t who you are,” he added softly. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Indignation kicked in. “Playing at being submissive does not make me incapable.”

He laughed in her face. “
Playing
? Oh no, Tahima. You don’t
play
, and this is no game, believe me.” His face sobered and his eyes altered. He exuded an authority she could feel shredding her will.

She fought not to get lost. “
Stop that
.”

Rossini rested his head against the wall. He looked almost amused. “Well, seems there are depths to you still unexplored.” He grimaced. “Lucky me.”

It took a couple of seconds to work out what he meant. Then it hit her. “I get to play dom,” she whispered. The thought uncoiled something dark deep inside her. Sensual warmth spread through her limbs.

Rossini looked alarmed in contrast. “This
isn’t
a game, Tahima. I’m
warning
you. Go down this road, you’re going to get burned. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Not if you’re in jail.”

“That’s a helluva risk you’re taking.”

“Well I can’t stay here, can I? And I’m not leaving you behind. We’re going.”

He bared his teeth. “And how the hell are you going to make me?”

Tahima pulled out her gun. His eyes widened as she set the weapon to stun him directly. She pressed the electrodes up against his shirt. For a second, she could do no more. She was standing on a precipice she wasn’t sure she could jump. Her hand shook. It was the flare of triumph in his eyes that swept her over.

Her finger pressed down. She held it for less than a second, she had no idea what the result would be and didn’t dare risk longer.

His jaw tensed. Then he smiled. “You don’t have the guts.”

She tightened her grip on the weapon. This time she kept it on for five seconds. Rossini twitched, but made no sound.

When she stopped, he took a juddering breath, turned hard eyes on her, and set his mouth in a smile cold enough to freeze hell. “Nowhere near close enough.”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes. She couldn’t do this. “You need a safe word.”

“
A
safe
word
? A safe word won’t make this right,” he spat at her. “I’m not yours, remember. This isn’t a scene. This, Tahima, is
you
torturing
me
.”

She recoiled back, nearly dropping the stun gun. She stared at it. Bile rose in her throat. Rising to her feet, she ran to her bedroom and slammed the door.

Fuck
!

She threw the horrid weapon on the bed.

What she hated most was that, even helpless, Gian Rossini was controlling her.

Just like Stephen controlled her from the past.

The awful truth was that until she stopped unraveling inside the moment a man twitched his little finger, she was ruined for any semblance of a normal relationship. She was
not
going to let Rossini manipulate her. And she wasn’t going to allow him to get away either.

Nothing would stop her turning him in, least of all, Gian Rossini.

She took several deep breaths until she no longer felt she was about to throw up. Then she stood before the mirror on a tall chest of drawers, pulled out her hairband, and tugged a brush through her hair until it hurt. As she re-tied her hair, her eyes fell on her contraceptive pills. She slid them into her jeans pocket. Then she changed into a fresh T-shirt, picked up the stun gun, and opened the door.

This time she glimpsed a hint of apprehension in Rossini’s eyes. The sight fuelled her courage.

“The safe word is Carlos,” she informed him tautly.

“
You
bitch
.”

She moved to his legs, grabbed the chain between his ankles and pulled him away from the wall. He kicked out, but she was expecting him to resist and easily evaded him. When he was flat on his back, she tugged his shirt out of his pants and jammed the gun against the bare flesh above his hips. At the last moment, he went still and stared up at the ceiling.

She pressed stun and his body arched uncontrollably into the air. Sweat broke out on her brow as she fought to keep contact. His feet drummed the floor. His neck muscles strained to rupturing point. A scream burst through his gritted teeth as he uncontrollably bucked and shuddered under the onslaught of fifty-thousand volts.

Tahima gave way at thirty seconds. Rossini took several seconds to gather his wits then looked at her. She was ready to burst into tears at his defiant grin, but the triumph in his eyes was intolerable. Then she saw his bulging crotch. Anger filled her.
He thought he had beaten her and it was turning him on.

Well, she had an answer for that.

Everyone had their limits. Even Gian Rossini.

She pressed the stun gun hard against the solid erection filling his pants. He squirmed and the reaction sparked unexpected mayhem in her belly. Her eyes rose to his slowly, making sure he understood her intention, giving him every opportunity to surrender.

Shock closely followed by trepidation filled his eyes.

She was about to switch the stun gun on when he beat her to it. “Carlos!”

She withdrew the gun immediately, making sure he knew she respected the limit. His relief was palpable; his expression one of defeat.

“Very good, Tahima,” he croaked. “I’ll give you this one. You get me out the door.” His look turned cold and hard. “The question is: have you got what it takes to keep me moving?”

She holstered the stun gun in her waistband. Her confidence was soaring. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

~ Chapter Three ~

Tahima hunted out a large backpack as she mentally made a list of items she might need. She’d better find the keys to her prisoner’s restraints, too.

“I just need to get a few things,” she told Rossini.