Six(18)

His fingers untangled from my hair as he pulled out and stuffed his dick back in his pants.

“Do you often try to rape women?” I asked, unmoving from my position as I regained my breath.

He stared down at me with a cool gaze. “No. All I have to do is find the nearest bar and look for the most desperate and available one.”

Desperate? Oh, God. Is that how I appeared?

Fluid leaked out, the feel of his come slipping down my skin to the bed. “Why bareback?”

“You’re going to be dead soon, so what does it matter?”

I sprang from the bed and moved into the bathroom in an attempt to get away from him and get the rest of his come out of me.

When had I become the desperate woman men preyed after? Fuck!

On my way back to the bed, my shackles rattling as I weaved around trying not to trip on the wire, I picked up the bottle of water I’d been sucking on before I was sucking on him. What I wouldn’t do for something stronger, or at least a Sprite.

I refused to look at him, pissed at what he’d gotten me in to.

Wanted. I was wanted.

Granted, it was for questioning, but that was just the formal description for a suspect. After all, the evidence pointed to me.

Then again, Six did bleed on the floor after I cut him.

I glanced over to where he was sitting, looking at something on his phone. Wrapped around his left bicep was gauze, covering the slice I’d managed to land.

“Won’t they find your blood and fingerprints?”

He looked up from his phone, his expression blank. “Doesn’t matter.”

My brow scrunched up. “Why?”

“Because they’ll never be able to match them.”

It didn’t make sense. They had to have his blood on file. “You have to have left some evidence of you in some other crime scene.”

He picked up his gun from the table and pointed it in my direction. “Go to sleep.”

I gave him a little huff before slipping under the sheet. There was going to be a period of adjustment as I wasn’t used to sleeping without panties on and I felt exposed.

Shutting off the bedside light, I turned onto my side and stared at the wallpaper. There was a small rip, throwing the pattern off, bugging me. In fact, none of the seams were hiding. They all seemed to be popping out, frayed.

The bed dipped, and I held my breath as Six worked his way under the covers beside me. My only solace was that he wasn’t touching me.

But that brief moment was ruined when his arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me flush with his chest.

I froze, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t go anywhere.” His breath was hot waves against my neck.

He was warm, and I wasn’t afraid. I felt oddly safe in his arms. There was a comfort I wasn’t supposed to feel, but I did.

Maybe sleeping with a killer was the safest place to be.





Grunting and some curses greeted me in the morning as I fought to either wake or sleep. The pain in my side from a rogue spring told me I wanted to go back to sleep. My back was sore. The shittastic mattress was the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever slept on. But I was no longer pinned down by a body.

He was the one making all the noise. I groaned and sat up. There was twisting and muscles flexing and my captor looking way too hot as he fought with whatever inanimate object was giving him trouble.

I yawned and scratched at my head. My hair had to be a mess—he kept twisting it in the night as I moved around to get it away from him. It was a chore to open my eyes and look at him. Every part of me was stiff.

He didn’t pay any attention to me. I made a huffing noise as I threw the covers back and made my way to the bathroom. I used my fingers to comb through my hair to get the knots out and straighten the mess out some, but the only thing it seemed to be doing was breaking and freaking me out that my reflection was almost unrecognizable to myself.

A few minutes later, I was back to my spot on the bed, wishing I had a toothbrush. My teeth felt like there was fuzz growing on them. Maybe some face wash as well. Lip balm would be awesome and some lotion.

Couldn’t a captive get some toiletries? Basic necessities so I didn’t look like a zombie apocalypse survivor?

“Tell me what you know,” Six said, his forearms resting on his thighs.

I looked over to him, surprised by his sudden outburst. He sat in the chair he’d taped me to the day before while I was still tethered to the bed. Hell, he’d spent the night curled around me. Couldn’t a girl get a “good morning” at least?

“That’s a long list.” I lay down and propped myself up on my elbow.

His gaze narrowed. “About John Doe.”

“Which one?” I asked, just to be a bitch.

His lip curled up into a snarl, and he stood and closed the space between us. Reaching out, he fisted my hair, tilting my head back. I hissed, teeth clenched as my eyes watered from the pain.

“You will tell me what you know,” he growled out.

I met his hard gaze. “So you can kill me?”

“You wouldn’t be the first corpse I left tied up in a hotel room.”

He pulled on my hair as he let go, making me fall back onto the bed. I watched as he moved back, threw his T-shirt on, and slipped on his shoes as he grabbed his keys. Without a word to me, he walked out of the room. The sound of a car engine roared to life, wheels kicking up gravel, and he was gone.