Reckless (6 page)

“As long as I have to.” Nick frowned at a
small noise from the bedroom. He met Carl's glance, his eyes
conveying a warning. Was she up and listening? They'd kept their
voices low, and Nick wasn't concerned about his cover. Still, it
wouldn't hurt to buy some insurance. His voice only slightly
louder, he added, “I just hope she's not foolish enough to try and
escape. She'd be digging her own grave.”

Toni didn't close her eyes after that. She
couldn't believe she'd managed to fall asleep in the first place,
knowing he was just in the next room. All she had to do was think
of him to feel his mouth possessing hers again. He'd enjoyed
showing off his physical power over her. The truth was, she was
glad he'd done it. There had been odd moments when she'd actually
found herself thinking he was attractive, admiring his size and the
hardness of his body. Of course, she hadn't allowed such thoughts
to linger. For all she knew, he was a killer. Well, good. She
wouldn't think of the man as anything but repulsive from here on
in. He couldn't have done anything to turn her off more.

She pushed all of her analysis aside and
tried to guess who had been speaking to him just now. She'd been
roused from sleep by a man's deep laughter and she'd quickly
pressed her ear to the door. She'd heard “Carl's” question, “What
are we going to do about the girl?”

And the answer: “I'm keeping her here.”

Nick. Carl had called her captor Nick. Then
she heard both men remark on her abbreviated life expectancy should
she be discovered by Viper. Was Nick telling the truth, then, when
he said he'd brought her here to keep her alive? More likely to
keep himself alive, she thought. He would be a marked man if Viper
ever learned of his little deception. Neither of them mentioned
killing her. She supposed she could take that as a good sign. And
the bit at the end about digging her own grave had obviously been
tacked on for her benefit. She wasn’t an idiot.

A few minutes later there had been absolute
silence. Either Nick had left her alone or he was asleep. She was
too afraid to open the door to find out which was the case, so she
went back to the bed, where she still lay, wide awake, in the
morning.

She knew she was a wreck when Nick flung the
door open. Her eyes were sore and felt puffy. Her head ached from
lack of sleep and nervous tension. All things considered, she'd had
better mornings.

He stepped into the bedroom with a flash of
straight white teeth in that tanned face and a tray of food in his
hands. Toni sat up, clutched the robe tighter and watched him
warily. His eyes scanned her face, and his smile vanished.

“You didn't sleep?”

“Did you really think I would?” She injected
all the venom she could into the words.

Instead of getting angry, he only frowned
harder and put the tray down on the bedside stand. When he sat on
the edge of the bed, she intended to slide right out the other
side, but he gripped her wrist, his hand capturing hers with the
speed of a cobra striking. “You look awful.”

“Sorry. Being kidnapped has that effect on
me.”

“More like no sleep and nothing to eat.”

“Who's to blame for that?”

“Look, I'm trying to be friendly,” he
snapped. “Why don't you lighten up? I brought you breakfast in bed.
How bad can I be?”

“I've already told you, I won't eat anything
you bring me.” She said it louder than she needed to, but the
aromas coming from the tray were too cruel to bear.

“Use your head, Antonia. I could think of a
hundred more practical methods of killing you than poison.”

“That makes you an expert, doesn't it?” She
averted her face to avoid the tempting scents. “Take it away.”

“Maybe you think it's something other than
poison. Is that it?” He caught her face in his hands and turned her
until she faced him. “You think I dropped a roofie in there? Think
I want to knock you out and have my way with you?”

She felt her cheeks blazing and tried to pull
free of him, but he held her still and smiled. “You are a bastard,”
she said slowly, enunciating each syllable.

“You may be right.” He let go of her face.
“But at least I've figured out a way you can eat.” He pulled the
tray of food nearer the edge of the stand. She couldn't resist
looking. The brown sausage links and fluffy yellow eggs pummeled
her senses. Her stomach rumbled and he laughed. “What would you say
to a brief truce? Just long enough to eat breakfast?”

She glanced at him, her eyes narrow with
distrust. He took a sausage and brought it to his lips, his eyes
fastened to hers. He took a bite from the end. She couldn't look
away as he chewed, swallowed, licked his lips. He held the same
piece of sausage to her lips. “Eat, Antonia. You're hungry and you
know it.”

Ignoring her pride, she parted her lips and
let him push the sausage between them. She took a bite. He smiled
and she realized she was staring at him instead of the food. He was
so different this morning, speaking softly. His face was relaxed,
not hard and scowling. His hair wasn't wet or slicked back as it
had been, but dry and thick and wavy, with a shine to it that
rivaled a mink. He wore a faded pair of jeans and an ordinary
T-shirt—clothes that accentuated the muscles underneath.

He took another bite of the sausage and held
the last tiny piece in his fingers. He pushed it into her mouth,
and when she took it, her lips closed around his fingertips. A jolt
shot through her at the sensuality of the contact, and she didn't
miss the dark intensity in his eyes.

He looked away quickly, scooped eggs onto a
slice of toast, folded it and took a bite. He handed it to her this
time. He didn't try to feed her from his hands again.

Toni was famished, and more grateful to him
than she cared to admit for thinking of a way to show her the food
was safe. She shouldn't be. It was his fault she had to be
suspicious of everything he said or did. She ate everything on the
plate, always careful that he tasted first. She even made him sip
her coffee after she'd added cream and sugar to it. He grimaced but
he sipped. He drank his own black and bitter.

“This is much better,” he said, relaxing now
and sipping his coffee. “I think we got off on the wrong foot last
night, Antonia. This will work out better if you think of yourself
as my guest. I promise I won't keep you here a day longer than
necessary.”

She was shocked at his easy, almost friendly
tone. “It isn't that simple. There's my si—” She stopped
herself.

“Your sister,” he finished. He drew a breath
and released it slowly. “I wish I could do something about it, but
I can't.”

“She'll be worried.” Antonia saw the
compassion in his face and pressed him. “Couldn't I send her a
note—tell her I've gone away—”

He shook his head. “She'll have you back
alive. It's the best I can do. Sorry.”

“Not the best you
can
do, only the
best you
will
do, you lousy—”

“Nick,” he told her. “It's Nick Manelli. Save
yourself the effort of thinking up all those lovely nicknames,
okay?”

He drained his cup, stood and left the room.
When he returned he carried a large green plastic trash bag. “I
brought you some things to make your stay a little more bearable.”
He dropped the bag in the center of the floor. “If I've forgotten
anything, let me know and I'll do my best to get it for you.” He
stepped back into the living room and closed the door.

Curious, Toni got up and looked inside the
bag. She drew back in shock. Her own clothes lay in neatly folded
stacks. Her purse rested on top. Gaping and gulping air as her rage
mounted, she flung open the door and charged him.

“You arrogant bastard! You broke into my
apartment last night! You—”

He held up one hand, flat palmed. “I did not
break in. I had a key. It was in your purse along with the address.
If you recall, you left it in the trunk last night when you kicked
me and ran like hell. The least I could do was get some of your
things for you. It was no trouble. You don't need to thank me.”

“Thank you! Thank you? I—”

“You're welcome, Antonia. I knew you'd
appreciate it. Of course, I am beginning to think I shouldn't have
bothered bringing a robe. You couldn't possibly look better in it
than you do in mine.” His gaze moved heatedly down her body.

In her fury, Toni hadn't tightened the cord.
The robe hung loose to her waist, and the inner swell of her
breasts had caught his gaze. She tugged the cord tight and moved
toward him. “You are the lowest, most vile, son of a—” She'd lifted
her hand in preparation as she spoke, but he grabbed it in
mid-swing.

One ruthless tug, and she was flat against
him. “Since I've already demonstrated what happens when you lose
that hot little temper of yours, I can only conclude you want more
of it.”

Her eyes focused on his lips, and her anger
began to turn to fear. “Thanks for reminding me what a scumbag you
are, Manelli. For a second there I thought you might have a crumb
of decency.”

“Never think that, Antonia, because I don't.
Push me too far, and you'll find that out.” His eyes blazed down
into hers, and Toni waited, trying not to let the moisture spring
into her eyes.

Her tears were his undoing. She didn't let
any spill over; she was too proud to do that a second time. He saw
them all the same. They formed glistening pools that made her black
eyes into rare and exotic gems. Something rose up inside him,
pushing the breath from his lungs, and Nick dropped his arms and
turned away, shoving one hand through his hair.

“I’m doing my level best to make this easy on
you, lady, but if you want it rough, make no mistake, I can make it
rough.” His voice was unnaturally gritty. He didn't care. He only
knew he had to get away from her. He blocked her view of the panel
with his body as he punched the numbers in, then went through the
door without looking back once.

On the other side, after slamming the
bookcase closed behind him, he stood still for a second. What the
hell had just happened in there?

He went back over the confrontation in his
mind, trying to pinpoint the moment when the tide had turned
against him.

He'd been ready to kiss her cruelly, just to
show her that she shouldn't be trying to slap a guy his size every
time she got her dander up. He'd almost done it. Hell, it had
worked the first time.

But when he'd had her there, crushed against
him, and he'd looked down to see her storm-tossed eyes, something
had slammed into him. He'd felt her heart pounding, and he’d been
suddenly, acutely aware of his own, pounding right back. He'd heard
her short, choppy breaths, and lost his own. Her scent had
enveloped him,
she
had enveloped him until he was aware of
nothing else—only her. If he hadn't stepped away, he knew damn well
what would have happened and he was not happy about it. He would
have kissed her—but not the way he'd kissed her last night.

In his soul, he knew he'd have slipped his
arms around her until he could cradle her head in his hands. He
could imagine the feel of all those silken, raven curls tangling
around his fingers. He'd have tasted her lips first, drawing them
between his own. He wouldn't have bruised them this time. He'd have
worshipped them. He'd have—

Nick groaned and forced her golden skin and
wild black mane from his mind. She must be some kind of witch, he
thought. An elusive enchantress capable of casting powerful spells
over men. At least, over him. What was he supposed to do with her
for the rest of the time he had to keep her here?

He shouldn't be having this problem. He'd
worked in close proximity to some gorgeous women in the past. He'd
never
had a problem. He'd always been perfectly able to take
them or leave them. Never had he felt so close to losing it—as
though he'd been shoved off a cliff and was scrambling for a branch
to keep from falling.