Cole must’ve alerted her husband of possible danger. Not that it mattered. Lydia had what she needed to coax Cole into compliance.
If he thought his time in that cell had been unbearable, he had no idea what she was saving him from. She was the only thing standing in the way of his unspeakable suffering.
But if she failed to hold up her end of the bargain, he was a dead man.
Keeping him in the dark—literally and figuratively—was for his own good. And hers. She needed him alive.
Strangely, though, he wasn’t demanding answers about why he was here and what they wanted. Wasn’t he wondering why she used isolation and thrash metal over common methods of torture? Maybe his silence was some sort of tactic.
Hard to tell what he was thinking. Right now, he appeared fully engrossed in his task. A task that had been designed to test his cooperation. He was smart enough to realize that. But there were so many things he didn’t know.
Halfway through the pallet, he took a break, standing beside her and breathing heavily. As he licked his lips, she couldn’t look away from that diabolical mouth.
His gaze raked down her body and lingered on her legs. Then it made a return trip, stroking her like fire. A fire she intended to play with.
He met her eyes. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“To keep you guessing.” She handed him a bottle of water.
“Here’s my guess.” He drained the bottle in one long gulp and tossed it aside. “You’re an attention whore.”
“Do you think I’m a whore because I have your attention? Or do I have your attention because you think I’m a whore?”
“I think you’re trying too hard. You’d get a lot further with me if you spoke clearly, dropped the act, and washed that shit off your face.”
Ouch. He didn’t like her makeup? Or her accent?
“Oh, Cole.” She rose to her feet, the heels putting her at eye-level with his lips. “I want you to accept me for who I pretend to be.”
“You’re a fucking freak,” he said in a deep, resonant voice. No judgment. All heat. “That much is real.”
“Yes, and you like it. You like it so much you want to ride it. See where it takes you. But here’s a spoiler.” She pressed closer, letting her chest brush against his. “It’s a ride you won’t ever get off.”
“Is that what happened to Mike? He hopped on the ride and lost his balls?”
She glanced over his shoulder and found Mike’s hard eyes tracking her like a hawk. His scowl conveyed his displeasure, but he wouldn’t intervene unless she was in trouble.
“Mike is my partner.”
“Do all your partners love you?”
Nope. Just one.
She rested a palm on the warm, hard ridge of his pec. “I have that effect on people.”
“Not on me, darlin’.” He bent in, his breath hot against her mouth. “If you want to turn me into a boy toy, if that’s your big plan, you need a new one.”
Slowly, he edged closer, deleting the space between their lips. His hand slid beneath her hair and around her nape. Warm fingers. Calloused and strong. His beard tickled her chin. Scratchy. Musky. All man. The heat of his mouth blanketed hers. Taunting. Not quite touching.
Her throat went dry, and uncertainty dipped in her gut as she waited, dreading, anticipating. It was the longest second of her life.
But he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he scraped his teeth against her upper lip, biting at the flesh above. Then he surprised her again by stepping back, his gaze strangely vacant.
Her skin tingled where his teeth had been. She reached up to touch beneath her nose and… “The fuck?”
The piercing was gone. He’d bitten the jewelry right out of her lip.
He angled toward the pallet and spat the tiny stone stud into the rock debris.
“How?” She trailed her tongue along the inside of her lip, seeking the tiny hole. “There was a back on it.”
“Not anymore.” He gave her a smile that he’d borrowed from Satan himself. A beautiful smile. Cruel. And far too smug for her liking.
She wanted to smack it off his face. So she did. With an open palm, she slapped him hard, sending an echoing whack through the warehouse.
It only made his smirk widen, lighting up his eyes. He didn’t even flinch.
“Mighty arrogant,” she said, “for a guy who’s looking at another two weeks in isolation.”
“You won’t put me in there that long again.” He turned away, grabbed a rock from the pile, and trucked it toward the other pallet.
“Why is that?”
“You’ll miss me.” He chucked the stone, landing it perfectly onto the platform and saving himself a few steps.
Miss him? She didn’t even know him. That was the problem.
She knew he was allied with the Colombian cartel, was in love with a married woman who lived in St. Louis, had a team of criminals whose identities couldn’t be traced. And he had information. Extremely valuable information that she needed.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t a job she could just aim a gun at and demand compliance. It required discretion, delicate handling, and perfect timing.
She met Mike’s narrowed gaze across the warehouse. He looked angry. And concerned. He didn’t think she could pull this off, but she didn’t have a choice.
Cole lumbered back and forth between the pallets, hauling rocks, working muscles, silent and watchful. His eyes were always watching, studying everything and everyone around him.
As he neared the bottom of the pile, he bent to snatch a large chunk of granite. A sharp hiss sounded beneath his breath, and he jerked back, empty-handed.
The piece he’d attempted to lift had a wicked sharp edge, and now, it was stained in blood.
For a moment, he just stood there, his brown eyes fixated on his hand. Beads of crimson welled from a deep gash on his palm and trickled down his fingers, dripping from the tips.
Momentary shock held her immobile, her pulse propelling through her veins. He didn’t move, either, probably stunned by the pain.
The gush of blood didn’t slow. Rivers of it collected in a growing puddle on the floor between them.
“Put pressure on it.” She glanced around for something to stanch the flow.
There was nothing soft or clean in the vicinity. It was a stone factory, for fuck’s sake. All hard surfaces and layers of dust.
“Shall I use my filthy hand to put pressure on it?” He cocked his head, chillingly calm. “Or some other part of my unwashed body?”
There was a first-aid kit somewhere in the private quarters. She shrugged.
“You didn’t throw me in that room for sixteen days to let an infection take me.” His gaze lowered, scrutinizing the material of her dress.
She stepped back, gripping the skirt. “I’m not destroying my clothes to bandage your hand.”
“Give me your underwear.”
Her head jerked back, her mind running at top speed. But once she got over the shock of his command, she saw it as an opportunity to negotiate.
“There’s a rumor going around.” She toyed with a lock of her hair. “They say you won’t touch a woman.”
His jaw twitched, his expression otherwise blank.
“Is it because of her?” She directed her eyes to the dancer tattooed on his arm. “I know you still love Danni. But it’s been seven years. You let her go and yet, you’re still faithful to her?”