He flashes me his crooked smile. Once upon a time, I thought that smile charming, which just goes to show that appearances are deceiving. His answer does nothing to reassure me, either.
“We’ve gone over this before. You need to come back with me.”
“So you do have a warrant?” I’m betting that’s a no. And it’s interesting, too, because if he could, he’d get one just to rub my face in it.
“Not yet,” he spat. “But I will. And it doesn’t matter anyhow. You’re going back with me, Sarah Jo.”
His thumb, stroking the barrel of his gun, makes a compelling case. Warrant or no warrant, he holds all the cards right now, and my options are decidedly limited. Problem is, the fire camp isn’t exactly teeming with life right now. The hotshots are all out in the field, eating dinner, or in town getting their fun on. And even if I scream, how do I know any big, burly guys in the vicinity correctly interpret my desperate screech as call 911 and send an army of vengeful giants armed for bear as opposed to ooh itsy bitsy spider sighting? (they’ve stopped running to the rescue after a few false alarms). I’m on my own here, and while that’s usually how I prefer my life, I’d like to make an exception tonight.
“You’ve got to pay the piper, Sarah Jo,” he says as if we’re discussing a five-dollar bet or a dare and not my life. Because I suspect he’s all in. He wants me to pay, and he’s not going to shortchange his revenge.
I take a shot at the truth. “I did nothing wrong.”
“You shouldn’t have run and tattled,” he accuses. “You said things.”
“Nobody believed me.” This is, most unfortunately, also the truth.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Eventually, someone might. You should have been on my side.”
There’s zero reason for me to side with him, but I don’t thinking pointing that out would be prudent. Instead, I go for wishful thinking. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
In answer, he unhooks a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt. “You’re not the one in charge here. I am. Turn around and face the wall. Put your hands behind you.”
I let Pick do things to me last night. Sensual, playful, demanding things. He turned me inside out and reduced me to a quivering, compliant puddle. I still haven’t quite figured out how I feel about that, but I know this is wrong. Giving up control to Thad isn’t some kind of dirty game, and I don’t trust him.
Not like I trust Pick.
I take a deep breath (because if it’s my last one, I want to make it a good one) and flip him off.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to shoot you?”
Absolutely not. I back the hell up, but he’s already coming for me. At least he shoves the gun back into its holster, so he’s either given up on shooting me or he’s decided to do it by hand. And then he lunges, fists shooting toward my face, and I retreat as fast and as far as I can. Of course, it’s not enough. His fist clips my jaw, sending me crashing to the floor. Pain blazes across my cheek, but I’m not dead and this is no time to stop. I scramble up.
He shakes his head, hooks his leg around mine, and yanks. I promptly end up back on the floor.
“Gotcha.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he pins me down with his weight. If I can just get him off, I can make the door . . . I buck, trying to knock him off balance, but he rolls me easily, jamming a knee into the small of my back. Then he pulls back hard on my arms, and my back bows helplessly.
“Stop fighting,” he demands, “and you’ll be happier.”
Is he freaking crazy? I mean, the answer, obviously, is yes, but what makes him think I’ll just give in now and let him do whatever it is that he’s planning? Because I don’t think he’s about to give me a free vacation to some lovely tropical destination with unlimited margaritas.
“Bite me.” He’s bigger and better trained, and apparently that whole thing about people performing superhuman feats because of adrenaline-fueled desperation? That’s not happening here. I end up stuck on the floor, panting as I gaze longingly at the enormous tin cans of tomatoes so tantalizingly close. I totally bet I could bash Thad’s head in with one of those if he would just hold still.