I was not the kind of girl who could deal with him. He fucked lots of females. Although he had yet to fuck me. He just kept his face between my legs.

  When I reached the bottom step, I knew I had to at least go talk to King. I couldn’t leave without saying anything. This was a great job. It would have possibly been the one to make my career. But I’d been dumb, and I knew there was no way I could stay here. See him.

  I just couldn’t. It wasn’t like they needed me for anything more than an exercise rider anymore anyway. Carmen was back, and I didn’t want to have to see him get the races I wanted.

  King turned to see me as I approached. He frowned at my lack of riding boots or a helmet.

  “Jim has Nemesis ready for you out there.”

  “I can’t,” I said, then stopped. I had to end this professionally. I couldn’t be an emotional female. “This isn’t going to work for me here. If you could, please let Mr. Shephard know I appreciate his giving me a chance. I enjoyed it, and I am thankful for everything. I just need to move on.”

  King took his cowboy hat off and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “This about Thatcher?”

  I nodded. No reason to lie.

  “He’s gonna come after you.”

  I laughed, but it sounded as sour and used as I felt. “No. He is done with me. I got to listen to just how done he was until he finished in her ass.”

  King’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. “I see.” He placed the hat back on his head. “The thing with Thatch is, he’s not wired like everyone else. He’s not sane on a good day, but when you are involved, he can be a touch demented. Just … be prepared.”

  I didn’t want to stay here any longer. He and the girl he’d just screwed would be coming down soon.

  “Sure,” I replied. “I’ll do that.”

  He gave me a smirk that said he knew I wasn’t listening to him, and then he walked out toward where Jim had Nemesis.

  I didn’t take my time to find Sebastian and explain. I wanted away from this place.

  I’d already run three miles, but the thought of stopping and letting myself feel anything wasn’t appealing. I was going to run until I was too tired to care. Then, I would eat a carton of ice cream. Heading down to the lake path, I almost turned around because a memory of Thatcher down here years ago came back to me. No, I couldn’t do that. He was in too many memories now. Might as well face them and move on.

  I slowed as I reached the curve so I didn’t trip and fall in the water. The breeze down here was a welcome relief from the sun that had been beating down on me when I ran the two miles on the main road. Stopping, I leaned forward and placed my hands on my knees and took several deep breaths. I needed some water, but I’d drunk all that I brought with me.

  Going back to the house was probably a good idea. I had to hydrate. If it was too difficult, I’d take off running again. Standing up, I raised my hands over my head and stretched. Lowering them to my sides, I heard something behind me. A small rustle. I started to turn around when a cloth was crammed into my mouth. Panicked, I swung my arms and screamed through the muffle, but I was wrapped up and unable to move due to a strong hold on me that didn’t budge.

  “Easy, little doll,” a familiar voice said in my ear. “It’s just me.”

  I stilled. Thatcher? I was being gagged and held by Thatcher? I shook my head, not understanding, and squirmed in his hold.

  “I don’t mind you rubbing your ass against my dick, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  I tensed, not wanting to think about his dick and an ass. His hands grabbed my waist and spun me around. I glared up at him, only to see him chuckle before he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. Using both fists, I pounded his back. He held my legs in a way that I couldn’t move them at all, but the realization that I had my hands to undo my gag hit me. I reached up to get it when I was back on my feet. Thatcher sighed heavily.

  “I didn’t want to do this, but you’re making me.” His voice sounded actually pained.

  He grabbed my wrists and began to tie them up with a rope. I tried to fight it, and he pressed my back against his chest and locked me in so tightly to him with one of his legs that I couldn’t move.

  “Please don’t pull on the rope. It’ll get tighter, and I fucking hate it when you’re hurt.”

  Was he serious, or was this a joke?

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then tossed me back over his shoulder. When I tugged at my hands in frustration, the ropes tightened, and I winced. He hadn’t lied about that. I remained still as I watched the ground grow more wooded as he stepped over fallen limbs. My stomach was starting to hurt from the position I was in when he finally stopped. I heard a car door open, and I turned my head to see a truck I didn’t recognize. It didn’t look like his.

  He eased me off his shoulder, as if he knew it was hurting me, then placed me gently in the passenger seat and buckled me up. I wanted to shout at him, demand he untie me, ask him what the hell he was doing. But all I could do was watch him walk around the front and climb inside the driver’s seat. We were somewhere in the woods that I hadn’t known existed and had never been. But there was a small road cleared through the woods up ahead.

  “Are your wrists okay?” he asked, picking up my hands and looking at them.

  I shook my head.

  He frowned. “I told you not to pull. Dammit, it’s gonna leave a mark. This skin is too pretty to damage.”

  “He’s not sane on a good day, but when you are involved, he can be a touch demented. Just … be prepared.”

  Was this what King had meant? I wished he’d been more specific. Not so vague. I’d thought he was referring to Thatcher showing up in my room in the middle of the night. Or shoving his friends against the wall and shouting at them. I had not thought he meant he would tie me up and … what was this anyway? Kidnapping? Was he taking me home or where?

  “We need to get going. Don’t pull them again. I can’t fix it yet.”

  Where did we need to get going to?

  He put the truck in drive, then reached over and placed his hand on my leg, slipping his fingers between my thighs. I stared down at it. His hand was large and a dark tan color, like the rest of him. The veins in them and his rough palm made them even more masculine.

  GOD! What was I doing? The man had me tied up and gagged, taking me off somewhere like a crazy person, and I was lusting over his hand. But it was between my legs, and I was wearing running shorts. This was unfair and so very messed up.

  “You quit,” he said as he pulled out onto a back road I also didn’t recognize.

  I turned and looked at him.

  He glanced at me, then back at the road. His long lashes, straight nose, strong and defined jawline, wide mouth with just the perfect amount of plump to them- just enough to make them soft, distracted me for a moment.

  “Can’t let you leave me, little doll,” he said as the hand he had on the steering wheel tightened. “Even before I had a taste of your pussy, probably couldn’t have let you go then either. But now”—he shook his head—“you’re mine.”

  Distraction over. I gritted my teeth, wanting to yell at him and slap him. I was not his. He did not own me. He had left my bed, then gone and screwed some other girl. I wasn’t that girl, and I couldn’t do it. I’d already let myself get attached to him, which had been so very stupid.

  I stared hard out the window, my body tense, angry, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Thatcher’s hand slid up until his finger brushed against the crotch of my shorts. I hissed in a breath. I didn’t want this. I could still hear that girl crying out his name. He might still have her on his hand. I shivered at the thought and wiggled, trying to get away from his touch.

  “Don’t,” he warned, squeezing my leg to keep me still.

  I swung my eyes over to him.

  “This is mine,” he snarled. “Don’t try and keep it from me.”

  No, it sure as hell was not! I growled through the gag. He glanced back at me as I did my best to shoot daggers at him with my eyes. He began to grin, and then he laughed.

  I was not being funny. I was furious.

  He handed me a bottle of water. “If I pull over and ungag you so you can drink, will you be good? Keep that smart little mouth shut?”

  I looked at the water, and my dry throat seemed to get worse. I nodded. I needed water. I’d get my fill, and then I’d let him have it.

  He pulled over on the road that not one car had passed us on yet and reached over to untie the gag. When he let it fall, he smirked at me, knowing I wanted to yell at him but that I wanted that water more. He held it up to my mouth.

  “Drink it all,” he told me.

  I gulped it down, desperate for it. The hot sun had wiped me out, and now that I was being abducted, it made me even thirstier.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said, brushing hair out of my eyes. “Finish it up.”

  I took a breath, then began to drink more. It was so cold. I realized I was almost done, and I hoped he had one more. I’d be good long enough for one more bottle …

  • Thirty-One •

  Anyone who abducted a person was not mentally well.

  Capri

  Opening my eyes, I stared at the foreign wall. It was made of logs. Where was I? When had I gone to sleep? I dropped my gaze to the covers over me. They smelled clean. Like laundry detergent and sunshine. The sheets were so soft and smooth that I wasn’t sure this was real. I didn’t feel right. Maybe I was still asleep. But I didn’t remember going to bed.

  Slipping my hand out of the covers, I ran my fingertips over the luxurious white down comforter, then turned on my back to take in the rest of the room. High ceilings, a fireplace, and a window. The floor-to-ceiling curtains were a heavy, raw silk fabric that were in dark jewel tones and drawn closed. I sat up and tossed the covers back. I needed to look out that window.

  Pausing, I looked down at my bare legs and the black T-shirt I was wearing. It was all I was wearing, I realized. Slipping it up higher, I checked to see that I was correct in the fact that I had on no panties. I looked at the shirt, rubbing the cotton between my fingers. This belonged to a man.

  Thatcher.

  My head snapped up, and I stared at the closed door beside the fireplace. Thatcher had taken me. I’d been in his truck. I didn’t remember going to sleep. The last thing … I had drunk the water.

  The door opened, and I sucked in a breath as he filled the doorway. If my dad was right and there was a god, then he had some explaining to do. Like why he had created someone who was ridiculously sexy, impossible not to want, and completely insane. It wasn’t a fair combination.

  “You slept longer than I’d anticipated,” he said, walking into the room.

  His jeans hung low on his hips, and he was shirtless. It seemed he’d just taken a shower since his hair was damp and haphazardly curled around his neck and face.

  “You put something in the water,” I replied. My voice was scratchy from sleep. How long had I been out?

  He smirked as he stopped in front of me. “I had to. You were gonna hurt your wrists. I couldn’t have that.”

  That wasn’t a reason to drug someone, but this man, beautiful as he was, had clearly gotten off his medication. I didn’t need to push. The others would come looking for him. My missing would be noticeable. Would he be charged with abducting me? I didn’t want that. The thought of him in prison—

  No! Dammit, Capri. This man gagged you, took you against your will, then drugged you. And you are in a log cabin—albeit it a nice one, it seems.

  “Once you were asleep, I was able to untie your wrists, lean your seat back, and make sure you were comfortable.”

  How considerate. I tried not to roll my eyes.

  “Where are we?” I asked him.

  “The mountains.”

  “Blue Ridge?” I needed him to be more specific. If I could get outside and take off running, I had to have an idea of where I was.

  “Smoky.”

  How far had he taken me?

  “You need to eat. It’s been eight hours,” he told me, reaching down and picking up my hand.

  He held it in his as he began to inspect my wrists. They weren’t marked much. There was one small area that seemed red. I watched his expression as he ran his thumb over that spot. He really did seem unhappy about it. He could tie me up and drug me, but he didn’t want to hurt me. It was so odd. All of this.

  “Why me?” I blurted out.

  He had sex with countless women. Why had he chosen me to haul off to his cabin in the mountains? Was it because we hadn’t had sex? Was he needing to finish the deed with me before he could move on to someone else?

  His eyes lifted from my wrist to meet my gaze. “You need me.”

  I blinked, staring at him, trying to figure out how he thought that was the case. I hadn’t ever needed him, except when he was doing wonderful things with his head between my legs. Sure, I wanted him. Most women did even if they wouldn’t admit it. He was that dark, mysterious, possibly dangerous man that made your pulse quicken with just one glance. It was like … like Elena when she looked at Damon the first time on The Vampire Diaries. She knew all the bad, but she still felt something.

  But this was not a hundred-seventy-something-year-old vampire. This was the real world, and Thatcher was truly not okay. Anyone who abducted a person was not mentally well. That meant he could hurt me. Just because he was worried about my wrists didn’t mean, at any moment, he couldn’t snap and … and do something bad to me.

  For the first time since opening my eyes, fear trickled in. Why was I here if he meant me no harm? He knew he couldn’t keep me here forever. Someone would find me. But what if his plans weren’t forever? What if he would go back home, but … but I didn’t?

  I swallowed as I looked at his painfully handsome face. As sinister as I had known he was and as twisted his soul must be, I had let him get close to me. He’d been in my house in the middle of the night, for God’s sake, and I’d never asked him how he’d gotten inside. I had let him in my bed. Between my legs. Was I in need of counseling? What was wrong in my head?

  “Let’s go eat. I don’t have your favorites, but I didn’t plan on this. You forced my hand. If I had known I needed to prepare the cabin for you, then it would have been stocked properly.”

  His large hand wrapped around my much smaller one, and he pulled me up. I went willingly. Fighting him seemed like a bad idea. I didn’t want to die up here. I didn’t want to die at all. Did he have that in him? To kill me?

  “You’re trembling, little doll,” he said, studying me.

  Yes, I was trembling. I was in a cabin up in mountains I had never been to, and no one knew where I was. Oh, and I was alone with a psycho.

  “Thatcher,” I said softly, not wanting to ask things to set him off. “Are you planning on … on hurting me?” I couldn’t bring myself to say murder or kill.

  He tilted his head to the side slightly, and the corner of his lips quirked, but he didn’t smile. “I’ve been punishing those who hurt you for years. I protect you. I’d never hurt you.”

  Okay, yep, he was crazy. That was not a sane thing for someone to say. He’d been punishing those who hurt me? What? He barely knew me. Until two months ago, I hadn’t seen him in seven years. Then, he was everywhere.

  He reached up and ran a finger under my chin, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a flutter in my stomach from his caress. I had to keep my head on straight. Nothing about this was okay.

  “You need food.”

  I didn’t argue with him. I let him lead me out of the bedroom and into a wide hallway with three more doors before we made it to a spacious, open area. To the right was a living area with a massive bearskin rug that I really hoped wasn’t real, two oversized brown leather sofas, and burgundy recliners, along with a flat screen on the wall. To the left was the kitchen. A long bar separated the two. Black marble countertops and grayish-blue cabinets. A table that could sit six with a fridge that seemed big enough to keep enough food to feed an army.

  “I made your burger the way you like it,” he told me, motioning at the table, where two plates were already filled.

  How did he know how I liked my burger? It wasn’t normal, and I doubted he could guess. I tried to think of a time I’d eaten one in front of him, and I couldn’t.

  “The ice water is free of any sedatives. I promise.”

  “And the food?” I asked because it was a legit concern.

  He chuckled. “And the food as well. I have you all to myself now. I don’t want to sedate you, but if you pass out from multiple orgasms, I can’t help that.”

  I swung my focus from the table to look up at him. He was grinning as he walked over to pull out a chair for me. I stood there, staring at him. I wasn’t letting him give me any orgasms. Even if hearing him say it made me slightly damp. My body did not understand that he was insane. It just wanted to feel what it knew he could do to it.

  “Sit down, little doll,” he said.

  “Why do you call me that?” I asked instead. “And how did you get into my house?”

  These were questions I should have asked him before. Maybe I wouldn’t be here if I’d been more aware of the things he’d done that were red flags. Him calling me little doll had made me feel special. But it was an odd thing to call someone.

  He moved the hair from my shoulder back as his gaze drifted over my neck until it made its way up to meet my eyes. “You don’t like it when I call you that?” he asked in a deep voice.

  Well, yes, I had liked it a lot, but now that I knew the rumors about him were more accurate than I’d realized, I wasn’t sure I was okay with the nickname he’d given me. Even if the way he was looking at me right now with his dark eyes, hooded by long, thick lashes, like he was thinking naughty things, made warmth in my body spread and breathing a little difficult.