“What you like or don’t like is irrelevant, Kitten,” he answered, gently. She went still, not tense, just lax. “That’s what you need to start expecting.” Without another word, Caleb lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. They both needed to rinse the day away.

They would start fresh in the morning.

Chapter Four

Day 6:

I look around the room and feel let down by the lack of darkness and sterility. I had an image of what an interrogation room might look like: two-way mirror, scratched metal table, a high watt bulb lighting my face and making me sweat. Instead, the room looks more like a kindergarten classroom with art projects and motivational sayings glued onto bright construction paper on the walls. I am sitting on a plastic chair, staring at Reed across the round, faux-wood, table in front of me.

“Okay,” Reed says. He releases a breath, “just to get the chronology right: After you were kidnapped, you spent approximately three weeks, locked in a dark room, in a city you can’t recall. You escape the man known as ‘Caleb’, and are, almost immediately, held for ransom by a man named ‘Tiny’, and his motorcycle gang. You contact your friend, Nicole Freedman, and ask her to obtain your ransom of one-hundred-thousand-dollars and meet ‘Tiny’, in Chihuahua, Mexico, to exchange your freedom for the money. You never make it to the drop because you are rescued, by ‘Caleb’. In the morning, you discover he has kidnapped two people and held them hostage in their home. He leaves them alive, but steals their car and you both drive into Zacatecas, Mexico. You are there for approximately three months.”

There is a long pause, as though he expects me say some other thing that will amaze him. He’ll be vastly disappointed. He ought to start expecting disappointment.

“Is that all correct?” Reed asks.

“You look like you want to spit every time you say his name,” I say, without inflection.

“My feelings are irrelevant,” Reed says.

“They’re relevant to me.”

Reed shakes his head and can’t seem to stop himself from giving me his two cents, “He’s a human trafficker, Miss Ruiz, a murderer, and a rapist. He didn’t rescue you. He captured you. There’s a wide distinction between the two. Have you considered you might have Stockholm’s Syndrome? Otherwise, I can’t see how you can defend him on any reasonable level.”

My vision is blurry. “He was a lot of things, that’s true enough,” I say. My voice is raspy and my lips tremble with the force of my sorrow. “But he was also more than what you’ve written in your damn reports.” I blink, and glare at Agent Reed. “It was the bikers who tried to rape me. It was the bikers who nearly beat me to death! If Caleb hadn’t stopped them, I’d probably be dead.”

“Is he the one who killed them?” Reed asks, insistently.

I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair, wiping the tears from my face, “How would I know?” I shrug. “I was unconscious.”

“I’m not defending what those men did to you. Especially, if it happened the way you said it did.”

“Are you implying it didn’t happen that way?”

Reed lets out an exasperated breath, “I didn’t say that. I’m interested in the truth and nothing more.” There’s a long pause, both of us regrouping. “The auction. When is it supposed to happen?”

“Caleb said about a week from now.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Pakistan, somewhere.”

Reed’s questions come at me quickly. I have no choice but to answer just as fast. I don’t want him to mistake my pauses for answers. Worse, I don’t want him to think I’m taking time to form a lie – which I am. “So, according to Caleb and Muhammad Rafiq, Demitri Balk, also referred to as, Vladek Rostrovich, is supposed to be there?”

“I guess,” I grind out.

“Will, Rafiq, be there?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Will, Caleb, be there?”

“Caleb’s dead!” I pound my hand against the table. “How many times do I have to say it?” Reed sits back, unconvinced, “How did he die?”

“I told you already!”

“Tell me again.”

“Fuck you!”

“Whose blood was on your clothes when they brought you in?”

“His.”

“How did it get there?” He leans toward me.

“I told you! He died in my fucking arms.”

“And it was all very romantic, who killed him?”

I burst out of my chair and throw it behind me, knocking it into another table and littering the floor with art supplies. “Stop asking me! I’ve answered already.”

Reed stands quickly and circles the table. Before I can run, before I can even react to the fear racing through me, he has me face down on the table with my arms behind my back. I feel the cold from his cuffs, and then hear them click as he cinches them around my wrists. It occurs to me I should never have asked to be alone with him. There’s no one to watch him. There is only my word against his.

I struggle, but he holds me very easily. He’s obviously done this before. Caleb would be impressed. I am less so, “Get the fuck off me, you asshole!”

His voice is calm, but filled with authority, “I’ll let you go as soon as you calm down. I don’t like being threatened, Miss Ruiz.”

“I didn’t –” I start to say and am interrupted.

“You can’t throw the furniture around. I take that as a threat.” I am furious! But his tone is so calm and collected. I know if I don’t settle down, he’ll hold me like this forever. It’s almost tempting, but I force myself to let my body go soft. This is a battle I can’t win.

Reed releases his hold on me in degrees, the calmer I am, the looser his hold and soon I am free of him and standing. He’s much taller than me; I don’t even reach his shoulder, so I have to crane my head all the way back to glower at him.

“If you spit at me, you won’t like what I do next,” he says very seriously, but I can see the barest trace of a smile. Caleb.

“What about what I asked for?” I whisper the words, taking advantage of our closeness. I’m not nearly as bruised as I used to be and I know what men like him, men with power, like from beautiful women like me. I sway my body toward him, trying to make it seem incidental.

He frowns and gives me a strange look. Slowly, his hands come up to rest on my shoulders, they’re warm. I wonder if his mouth is too. I lick my bottom lip and his eyes track my tongue. He reminds me. He reminds me so much of him. It’s been days since someone has touched me in a way I might enjoy.

He pushes me back gently. This man is all business. “Entry into Witness Protection isn’t guaranteed,” he says. He grabs the chair I threw and motions for me to sit. “This crosses international lines, not just federal. The DOJ is currently reviewing this case and it depends on other complicated factors.” He sets it down where he wants and looks at me. “Sit down.”

I look at the chair and raise my arms from behind my back, wiggling my fingers.

“I’m going to leave those on. Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

I force a smile just to piss him off, “I won’t sign anything until you come through. I’ll say I lied about everything.”

He steps closer, “Have you been lying, Miss Ruiz?” His gaze is hot and smoldering – intimidating as hell. If it weren’t for the fact I’ve been with Caleb for so long, I’d probably piss like a puppy, but after Caleb, Reed’s threats feel like a caress. “Sit. Down,” he orders less nicely.

I sit slowly, giving him the sultriest look I can muster. He holds my eyes the entire time, trying to maintain his authority, his control. I slowly lean over and spit on his shoe. I look up at him, lips wet, and smile.

His hand wraps around my bicep with enough force to make me wince and he hauls me to my feet. “We’re done for today. You can go back to your room.” He shoves me toward the door and I go without a fight.