I’ve never had a use for stupid men. Not until now.
“It’s unbearably hot in here.” I unfasten the belt on my coat and let it fall off my shoulders, watching as his eyes drop to my breasts. “Do you think maybe you could open a window?”
“Don’t be an idiot.” He says the words directly to my chest. “You didn’t used to be this hot.”
The compliment sends my skin crawling again, but I accept it with grace. “Thank you.” I flutter the dress’s neckline, pinching the silk between two fingers as my other hand skims the keypad. “Maybe I could at least get a glass of water? Before you rape and murder me, that is.”
He frowns at my characterization of his plans. “I’m supposed to wait for backup.”
“Backup?” My surprise is nearly as evident as his. Apparently, he didn’t mean to say this. “Will someone else be joining us then?”
With a scowl, he lowers the gun. “Wait. Don’t you have some kind of liver thing?”
I’m unsure why this matters or if it’s worth clarifying the difference between kidneys and liver, but I give a curt nod and keep fluttering my neckline. “If I could just have some water—”
“Jesus, don’t faint or puke or whatever.” He backs away, gun still gripped in his hand. “I had a cousin with liver disease. Grossest thing ever when she dehydrated.”
“It’s certainly unpleasant for all involved.” I gaze up at him with the faintest flutter of my lashes, projecting every inch of demure duchess I used to be.
But that’s not who I am now. Not who I need to be.
As I watch with dumbfounded elation, Skullcap backs slowly into the kitchen. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, nor move the trajectory of his gun. Still watching, he fumbles behind him for the handle of a cupboard.
My head is pounding, but I offer my sweetest smile and flutter my neckline some more. “Goodness, I’m dizzy.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He snaps his head around to peer in the cupboard he’s cracked open. Pots. Pans. No glasses.
I use these scant, precious seconds to glance at the keypad, confirming I’ve got my numbers right. If I guess wrong, I’m finished.
Three is on the top right and that’s letter E.
Five is in the middle—
“Who the fuck doesn’t keep glasses next to the sink?” Skullcap bangs the cupboard shut and looks at me. “You’re lucky I’m feeling kind.”
If threatening rape and murder is this guy’s idea of kind, I’m in trouble. I already knew that, but the reality sends a fresh rush of adrenaline gurgling through me. “I so appreciate your charity.”
“Mmph.” With the gun still aimed at me, he opens another cupboard.
I seize the moment to look down again quickly.
The four corresponds with letter I, and that’s middle left.
Then the A, which would be—
“Where’s your phone?”
I blink at him and touch the space between my breasts. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your phone, princess.” He makes a noise of disgust. “Your goddamn phone.”
I slip my hand from the safe, desperate to show I’m not up to anything. How long do I have before the electronic keypad resets and I have to start over?
“Right there.” I point and watch his gaze dart to where I dropped my clutch beside the door. “Did you need something?”
This distraction buys me enough time to reach down and punch another letter.
S.
Elias.
Dante’s childhood pig. The Duke’s middle name. It’s my best guess, and right now, it’s all I’ve got.
Now where’s the button for “enter?” I missed that part, and I don’t dare look now.
“I need to make sure you’re not trying anything funny,” he mutters. Glancing at my clutch, he decides it’s far enough from my reach not to pose any threat. “Don’t move.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I slip my free hand back to my neckline and fan it some more. “I really appreciate you fetching me some water.”
“Fuck.” He drags his gaze off me long enough to find the knob on the cupboard flanking the other side of the sink.
Long enough for me to glance down and see the button, bright red and hopeful, at the bottom of the keypad.
Please, let this be it.
I press the button and a shrill beep blasts through the room.
“What the fuck?” Skullcap slams the cupboard door shut and glares at me. “What was that?”
I consider playing dumb, but he’ll never buy it. “It’s an alarm on my phone reminding me to take my medication.” I hesitate. “Herpes. I have to take my prescription at precise intervals, or the sores and zosters will be out of control.”
I’m not sure if this makes him less inclined to rape me, but the answer satisfies him. And freaks him out a bit, if I’m reading him right. Skullcap eyes me for a moment, gun still pointed right at me. “Stupid bitch,” he says, and turns back to the cupboard.
I hold my breath and feel around for a button. Or a lever or something to pop open the door on this safe. I’m not confident I guessed right on the code, but that beep buoyed my hopes.
Bradley’s eyes flash in my brain and I force myself to breathe deeply. To remember what’s at stake here.
“Ah ha!” Skullcap holds up a water glass in triumph. “Found it.”
“Thank you.” My heart hammers in my ears as I wait for him to turn and face the sink to get the water. Just a few more seconds, that’s all I need. “Might I have a twist of lemon?”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Concluding I’m too insipid to be a threat, Skullcap shoves the gun in his waistband and reaches for the faucet. “You get tap water. No fucking Perrier, no goddamn cucumber slices—”
“I truly appreciate this.” I say a prayer and press the button.
I’m braced for another beep. I’m braced for nothing at all.
I’m braced for….the safe door swinging open?
The cold metal creaks, and relief floods through me. Fast as I can, I shove my hand inside and grab the first object in my grasp. Hands shaking, I leap to my feet and draw the gun up in front of me.
“Freeze, motherfucker.”
That sounded braver in my head, but my hand is steady as I aim the gun at his chest.
Skullcap gapes at me as the water glass falls from his hand and shatters in the sink. “What the f—”
“I said freeze.” With one finger on the trigger, I risk a glance at the firearm I’ve grabbed. It’s the Glock with a silencer, the one I saw that first day. Breathing hard, I pray I’ll be brave enough to use it.
I pray harder I won’t have to.
Skullcap shakes his head, then sneers. “You think I’m gonna believe you can fire a fucking nine-millimeter? That you’ve got the balls to shoot someone?”
“I’ve had a bad week.” My finger trembles on the trigger. I don’t want to shoot. I just want him to leave.
He snorts. “You make this too easy.”
His hand whips to the gun at his waist, and he draws it up to point at me. “Bye, Princess.”
I yelp as he squeezes the trigger, dropping to my knees on the knotty pine floor. Something whizzes past my ear, but the sound is more a snap than a gun blast. It takes me a moment to realize his gun has a silencer.