Provoke

“My sister was my life.”

I glanced over at him, the enormity of what he was saying hitting me in the face. He never spoke about Anna—as in ever. Refused to tell me anything other than that she had killed herself. I sat down beside him and waited. For something.

Anything that would give me a reason not to hate him as much as I did right then.

“She was the one that kept me sane. Kept me out of trouble. Where Cash hung out with a very bad crowd and got mixed up in some serious shit, knowing Anna was there kept me clean. It was like she needed someone to look after her, you know?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. I stared at the table, not wanting to listen, but at the same time needing to hear whatever he had to say. How did this—what he had done—have anything to do with Anna? If he tries to play the feel-sorry-for-me-my-sister’s-dead card, I might just punch him.

I tensed, convinced that was what it was: making me feel sorry for him so I’d forgive him. And the worst thing was, it was working. I could see how much pain he was in over his sister’s death.

“The week after she died, I received a package from her. Anna.” Another long pause. “It contained a letter and a USB stick.” He turned to face me. “She had been raped. Some guy had slipped something into her drink one night, and then he had taken her back to his place. He held her there for three days, where he repeatedly rap

ed her.”

My heart plummeted. I wanted to race over there and hold him. I hated to see him hurting so badly. But I forced myself to remain cold. This does not excuse what he did.

“So, you thought you’d see what the fuss was all about? See what it felt like? That’s sick, Mace. You need help.”

He glared at me. “You think I . . . How could you think I’d do that? Don’t you know me at all?”

“How the hell would I know, Mace?” I yelled, blinking back tears. All I knew was what I’d seen. For years, I’d forced myself to focus only on the facts. That was what my whole career was built around: leaving emotion out of the equation. Now, my heart was asking me to abandon everything I’d ever believed in.

“Fuck!” he growled. He stormed toward me. “Fuck this, Leets. You know me. How can you even think I’d do something like that?”

His face was so close to mine I could feel the heat radiating off him. Without warning, his hands cupped my face as his lips crushed against mine. I melted into his kiss, my body aching for more. No. I couldn’t just forget . . .

“Stop!” I pushed him away. “You don’t get to do that, Mace. It’s not fucking fair.”

“What do you want from me, Leets?” He shook his head in frustration.

“Just leave me alone,” I muttered, burying my face in my hands.

“Fine.” He grabbed hold of my wrist and led me over to the kitchen counter. Pushing me down in a chair, he pulled out a set of handcuffs and locked one cuff around my wrist, and the other around the solid wooden bar that ran along the length of the bench. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ball gag, shoving it in my mouth and tying it up.

I sighed, defeated. I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore.

Chapter Fourteen

Mace

What the fuck am I going to do now?

I drove up into the parking lot of the motel outside our room. I know what you're thinking: kidnapping someone and taking them to a motel? That was the beauty of being a Jordan—you always know someone who can help out. Besides, I honestly thought that once she'd calmed down, she would listen to me. It was taking a lot longer than I'd expected.

I glanced around the empty parking lot of the motel. In the middle of nowhere and well off the main road, it didn’t look like they got much business—which was great, when you were in the business of kidnapping your girlfriend.

The office was situated at the front of the block, and I’d requested a room as far away from the road as possible, which also meant far away from the office. I mean, just because you know people aren’t going to ask questions doesn’t mean you don’t stay on your guard.

Walking into our room, I shut the door behind me. Leeta jumped and glanced up. Her eyes narrowed as she shot me a look cold enough to freeze the sun. I edged closer to her and gently took the gag out of her mouth¸ sighing as her pretty little lips fell into a scowl. She shook her dark hair, sending it flying wildly around her face.

“About fucking time,” she grumbled. Her eyes were shooting daggers at me.

Shit. Waiting for her to cool down wasn't going to work. If it were possible, I’d say she was even angrier than she was before.

I couldn't keep her tied up here much longer, but if I let her go, then it was over for me. I needed to make her understand. She could hate me as much as she wanted, but I had to make her understand why I was doing this.

“Are you ready to listen to me?”