“Yeah,” she said.

He rubbed her arm with his fingers, a very light, hypnotic touch. They didn’t speak, and she didn’t weep, but all the same the next hour was about calming down. About coming back to now.

When finally she sighed, he knew he could do what he had to do, even if it meant leaving her. Not for the whole night but for as long as it took him to do some recon. He’d been too busy fixing her wrist to really check out the bathroom. He was sure he would find something in there he could use as a weapon. Then there was the vanity and the dresser. Probably closets, too, although he didn’t remember seeing them.

He looked over at the door, and there was still light coming in around the edges. Which meant if he turned on the light in here, it wouldn’t be noticed.

“Tate, I have to move. I’m just going into the head. Will you be all right?”

The hand on his chest lifted slowly. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to do this now. The light’s still on in the saloon.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

“I won’t be long.” He climbed out of the bed and went to the door. Even though he knew it was locked, he tried it anyway. Mistakes happened, and sometimes not by him. “Close your eyes,” he said. “Light.”

As soon as his eyes adjusted, he went to the vanity. This cabin was clearly used to accommodate women. He found a hairbrush, a mirror, makeup, creams, sprays. Nothing particularly helpful.

There were clothes in the dresser-women’s, and some of them were mighty skimpy.

The head, however, held his interest. A package of safety razors. Those could come in handy. A long pair of scissors. Some isopropyl alcohol and a book of matches along with a scented candle. He could work with this stuff. He just had to be careful how and when, because Tate was his weakest link. He wouldn’t allow them to use her as a bargaining tool, so he’d have to make damn sure if he struck, he’d win.

There was also the question of Charlie. Yes, he wanted to kill him for his role in all this, but truthfully he wasn’t sure he could, so there was another weak link.

If it had been just him, he’d have had no problem with the crew. He could get rid of Jazz in two shakes. The man was a brute, nothing more. But the bald guy, he might be trouble. The chef was no big deal, and Martini was too used to letting others do the dirty work.

But it wasn’t just him. Tate’s safety overruled everything.

He rearranged some of the equipment in the head, then he leaned out and said, “Just one more sec,” before he closed the door with his foot.

After he’d washed, he went back into the cabin. Tate was still in the same position, the blue blanket pulled up above her breasts, her head resting on a mound of pillows. She looked pale and scared, but she hadn’t simply been resting, waiting for him to return.

There was a fierceness about her he’d never seen before. Curious. Was it the talk of her little cousin? Or was it the laughter that had brought her a few steps closer to fighting back?

“What’s that smile for?” she asked.

He hadn’t realized. “You’ve made a decision.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. It’s not important.” He turned off the lights and was once again amazed at the depth of the darkness.

“Are you going to be able to find your way back?”

“Eight steps,” he said.

“Now that sounds like something a spy would say.”

He got back to the bed and climbed in, shifting until he had her comfortably beside him again. “Those kinds of details make all the difference. Next time you go to the head, count. And when Jazz comes into the room, watch him. Does he go to the right or the left? Is he ready before he turns on the light or does he take a few seconds to adjust?”

Her hand touched his chest again. “Is it always like that for you? Everywhere?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“So how do you relax?”

He chuckled. “Well, there are a couple of ways…”

There was that little shiver again.

“I have a confession.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been meaning to invite you for dinner.”

“Really?” Of course, he’d known about that for months, but he wasn’t going to spoil this moment for her.

“I’ve always enjoyed our talks. I thought it would be nice to spend some time with you off the clock.”

“It sounds nice.”

“I know. Unfortunately I’m a big chicken. I was afraid you’d-”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Just afraid.”

“We’re here now. And I don’t see a clock anywhere.”

Her hand moved. Not much and not under his shirt, but it was a start.

He stroked her hair once more and, as he did so, pulled her tighter against him. It wouldn’t be easy to kiss her in such a dark place. He could miss by a mile. Unless…

He took her chin in his left hand and held her steady as he lowered his lips onto hers.

TATE’S EYES FLUTTERED closed at the whisper of his lips. She held her breath waiting for him to pry her mouth open, for the gaping maw that was all she’d known of kisses. But he barely touched her. Just a brush, an almost that made her quiver. She tried to remain still, to let him show her what he wanted, but the way he teased her, nearly touching, made her arch forward.

Even then, even with him truly kissing her, he was soft and deliberate. As if he were testing, putting his proverbial toe in the water.

The metaphor made her smile, and when he smiled in return, she felt it. Felt his lips curve and his warm breath mingle with hers.

A moment passed, and he must have decided that the water was fine because there was no more teasing. He took her mouth and his tongue slipped inside. In that instant she realized everything she’d known about kissing in the past was wrong.

He didn’t swallow her whole or do anything that would spoil the moment. With his arm holding her head, his fingers still guiding her chin, she felt amazingly, astonishingly safe.

How was it possible to have the worst and best experience of her life happen at the exact same time?

Gathering her courage, she touched his tongue, and that was a sensation beyond thrilling. He let her lead the dance for a moment, then he was in charge once more.

She didn’t mind. In fact, all she wanted was to surrender completely, let herself fall into this, into her dream become flesh.

He pulled away, only to return, nipped her bottom lip, then soothed her with the flat of his tongue. Kissing was wonderful. Better even than in her feverish imagination.

He moaned with his passion and hunger, and she laughed, it was so good. She’d made him moan. This sexy, experienced man of the world.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

She sighed. “I’m perfect.” Then she kissed him.

He pulled her closer, and now that he had her, he let go of her chin to stroke her hair, to touch her cheek. Just as she pulled back to bare her neck, the door opened, throwing light all over the bed.

Tate jerked away as if she’d been caught doing something nasty.

“Hey, what the hell?” Michael said, leaning forward to block her from the intruder.

“Sorry to break up the party, but-What the-?” Jazz rushed to the side of the bed and held up the empty cuff. “Are you kidding me?”

“They were uncomfortable,” Michael said.

“I’ll show you uncomfortable.” Jazz shoved his gun into the side of Michael’s cheek. “Get up. Now.”

Without moving, Michael said, “Tate, you just relax, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jazz said.

Despite the immediacy of the threat, Michael moved off the bed with incredible grace. The moment he stood, Jazz poked him in the ribs with his gun. “Cuff her.”

“She’s not going anywhere.”

“Cuff her or I’ll do it.”

Michael obeyed, and her hand was once more above her head in a position that simply couldn’t be comfortable. That was the least of her problems. Where were they taking Michael? God, what if he didn’t come back?