Trace of Fever
Page 76
“True.” She turned thoughtful, and then lifted his stun baton instead, hefting it in her hand, testing the weight of it.
Trace cursed low. It wasn’t easy to focus with blood burning through his veins, his skin on fire and his c**k twitchy, but he tried.
“That’s not much better, Helene. You could still kill with that, and if you leave behind a victim—”
“You mean other than you?”
Hard-jawed, Trace nodded. “Yes, other than me. Murray won’t easily accept a mess of yours that he has to clean up.
“Perhaps.” She came back to crouch over him.
Though the nearness of that baton left his nerves jumping, he didn’t look at it. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing his unease. “I’ll tell him about this myself.”
“I doubt that.” Her thumb on the button as a tacit threat, she stroked the baton over his body. “The connecting room did seem strange to me. Who’s over there, Trace?”
“How the f**k should I know?”
“Oh, I think you know.” She moved the baton between his legs. “You’re too cautious to be in a connecting room next to someone without doing a full background check.”
True, but he wouldn’t tell her shit.
She cuddled his balls a second, then sighed and stood. “Make a sound, and I’ll switch to the gun and to hell with the consequences.”
Picking up more restraints, she moved to the connecting door and stood to the side.
Seconds ticked by, and then a full minute.
At least Jackson was being smart, Trace thought. He was taking his time, not rushing things or charging in like a white knight. Of course, he expected no less of him. If Jackson had been the reckless type, he and Dare never would have brought him on board.
Unfortunately, Helene showed incredible patience. She kept her gaze off his body so she wouldn’t be distracted, giving Trace an opportunity to seek ways of escape.
He didn’t find many. The handcuffs were so tight that his arms were going numb.
But she had left his watch on his wrist, and he wiggled around until he was able to get hold of it. It wasn’t easy from this angle, bound as he was, but he managed to remove the tiny pin hidden in the band. He went to work picking the lock on the handcuffs. If he could get his hands free…
He saw his knife on the table with his gun. The knife was all he needed. But could he reach it with his legs still hobbled?
His gaze jerked back to the door when the knob, ever so slowly, started to turn. It had barely opened two inches when Helene jammed the baton through and pressed the trigger button.
The sound of arching electricity mixed with Jackson’s groans. When Helene finally let up, his body fell into the room. Lightning fast, Helene was on him, straddling the small of his back to secure his wrists behind him.
When Jackson stirred enough to react, she zapped him again.
“Helene, stop it!”
“All right.” She smiled, and stroked a hand over Jackson’s ass.
Jesus, why was Jackson even here? Trace hadn’t asked him to come. He’d even closed the damn phone.
Hadn’t he?
At this point, after the drugs, things were kind of hazy.
Jackson groaned again.
Dredging up a more commanding tone, Trace said, “Leave him alone.”
“Not until he’s incapacitated.” Helene tossed the stun baton off to the side and wrapped the nylon around Jackson’s ankles, too. But she did so over his jeans, which would at least give him a little wiggle room.
With that complete, she backed away from him. “Well, well. It’s like Christmas morning.” Breathing hard, she looked at Jackson top to toes—and smiled.
Jackson grunted out something that sounded vaguely like “Fuck you.” He rolled to his back.
Helene kicked his ankle. “Anyone else in that room?”
Trace stared into the other room, but saw nothing and no one.
Still grimacing in pain, Jackson repositioned his legs, bending his knees and bracing his heels on the floor. To the casual observer, it appeared he only wanted to ease his discomfort. Trace knew better. Though Jackson’s arms were tight behind him, he could be deadly with his legs. “See for yourself.”
To do so, she’d have to get close to Jackson again. She’d have to get in range.
“Ah, no.” Helene crossed her arms and laughed. “If you’re even half as good as Trace—”
“Who’s Trace?” He glanced over, tucked in his chin at seeing Trace’s naked boner, and said with sympathy, “Damn, man, she really has you sprung, doesn’t she?”
Helene put her hands on her hips. “I’m not buying it, so save your breath.”
“Buying what?”
“You two know each other, and that means if I get too close you’ll find a way to…do something to me.”
“Nah, sugar. I don’t know what that dude did to piss you off, but I’m harmless. I promise.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” She chewed her swollen lip. “Push yourself away from the door.”
With a shrug, Jackson did as she asked. “Now what?”
She circled him, cautiously. “Now you tell me who you are.”
“Innocent bystander?”
Though her smile didn’t waver, her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “You think you’re really clever, don’t you?”
“Obviously not clever enough.” He wiggled some more until he was able to sit up against the wall. “Damn, woman. Care to tell me what this is all about?”
Trace cursed low. It wasn’t easy to focus with blood burning through his veins, his skin on fire and his c**k twitchy, but he tried.
“That’s not much better, Helene. You could still kill with that, and if you leave behind a victim—”
“You mean other than you?”
Hard-jawed, Trace nodded. “Yes, other than me. Murray won’t easily accept a mess of yours that he has to clean up.
“Perhaps.” She came back to crouch over him.
Though the nearness of that baton left his nerves jumping, he didn’t look at it. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing his unease. “I’ll tell him about this myself.”
“I doubt that.” Her thumb on the button as a tacit threat, she stroked the baton over his body. “The connecting room did seem strange to me. Who’s over there, Trace?”
“How the f**k should I know?”
“Oh, I think you know.” She moved the baton between his legs. “You’re too cautious to be in a connecting room next to someone without doing a full background check.”
True, but he wouldn’t tell her shit.
She cuddled his balls a second, then sighed and stood. “Make a sound, and I’ll switch to the gun and to hell with the consequences.”
Picking up more restraints, she moved to the connecting door and stood to the side.
Seconds ticked by, and then a full minute.
At least Jackson was being smart, Trace thought. He was taking his time, not rushing things or charging in like a white knight. Of course, he expected no less of him. If Jackson had been the reckless type, he and Dare never would have brought him on board.
Unfortunately, Helene showed incredible patience. She kept her gaze off his body so she wouldn’t be distracted, giving Trace an opportunity to seek ways of escape.
He didn’t find many. The handcuffs were so tight that his arms were going numb.
But she had left his watch on his wrist, and he wiggled around until he was able to get hold of it. It wasn’t easy from this angle, bound as he was, but he managed to remove the tiny pin hidden in the band. He went to work picking the lock on the handcuffs. If he could get his hands free…
He saw his knife on the table with his gun. The knife was all he needed. But could he reach it with his legs still hobbled?
His gaze jerked back to the door when the knob, ever so slowly, started to turn. It had barely opened two inches when Helene jammed the baton through and pressed the trigger button.
The sound of arching electricity mixed with Jackson’s groans. When Helene finally let up, his body fell into the room. Lightning fast, Helene was on him, straddling the small of his back to secure his wrists behind him.
When Jackson stirred enough to react, she zapped him again.
“Helene, stop it!”
“All right.” She smiled, and stroked a hand over Jackson’s ass.
Jesus, why was Jackson even here? Trace hadn’t asked him to come. He’d even closed the damn phone.
Hadn’t he?
At this point, after the drugs, things were kind of hazy.
Jackson groaned again.
Dredging up a more commanding tone, Trace said, “Leave him alone.”
“Not until he’s incapacitated.” Helene tossed the stun baton off to the side and wrapped the nylon around Jackson’s ankles, too. But she did so over his jeans, which would at least give him a little wiggle room.
With that complete, she backed away from him. “Well, well. It’s like Christmas morning.” Breathing hard, she looked at Jackson top to toes—and smiled.
Jackson grunted out something that sounded vaguely like “Fuck you.” He rolled to his back.
Helene kicked his ankle. “Anyone else in that room?”
Trace stared into the other room, but saw nothing and no one.
Still grimacing in pain, Jackson repositioned his legs, bending his knees and bracing his heels on the floor. To the casual observer, it appeared he only wanted to ease his discomfort. Trace knew better. Though Jackson’s arms were tight behind him, he could be deadly with his legs. “See for yourself.”
To do so, she’d have to get close to Jackson again. She’d have to get in range.
“Ah, no.” Helene crossed her arms and laughed. “If you’re even half as good as Trace—”
“Who’s Trace?” He glanced over, tucked in his chin at seeing Trace’s naked boner, and said with sympathy, “Damn, man, she really has you sprung, doesn’t she?”
Helene put her hands on her hips. “I’m not buying it, so save your breath.”
“Buying what?”
“You two know each other, and that means if I get too close you’ll find a way to…do something to me.”
“Nah, sugar. I don’t know what that dude did to piss you off, but I’m harmless. I promise.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” She chewed her swollen lip. “Push yourself away from the door.”
With a shrug, Jackson did as she asked. “Now what?”
She circled him, cautiously. “Now you tell me who you are.”
“Innocent bystander?”
Though her smile didn’t waver, her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “You think you’re really clever, don’t you?”
“Obviously not clever enough.” He wiggled some more until he was able to sit up against the wall. “Damn, woman. Care to tell me what this is all about?”
