“Cut it out, give me the money!”
A big hand closes over my wrist and yanks me up past standing until my toes are dangling off the ground. My blood pressure plummets and my vision fogs but I can feel that I am pinned between the brick wall and the equally unyielding body of my captor. The pipe is still gripped in my fist but his fingers are closed over my wrist. It’s useless. He shakes my hand until I drop it, the pressure of his arms and torso against me making it hard to breathe.
I let out a guttural wail of defeat and frustration.
“Bane,” I groan. “You’re hurting me, damn it!”
He blinks at me, catching up.
“Red?” His voice is shocked, and it seems to take him a minute to believe it’s really me underneath all the dirt and bruises. “Jesus, what the fuck? You stink. How the hell did you get out here?” Reluctantly, he lets me slide down the wall until my feet touch the ground. He steps back to study me with the same swift intensity as last night, his arms around me like a corral. “Why’d you try to brain me with that pipe? You know, for a nice girl from Whole Foods, you’re really not very nice at all.”
Though his tone is flippant, Bane has turned his clinical gaze to sweep the alley and I can tell the gears are whirring. He focuses on the D.L. building and his eyes narrow, calculating.
“No way.”
He grabs my hands and turns the palms upward, inspecting the raw skin and welts. When he looks back into my eyes, that light of curiosity and pity is stronger. There’s something else there now, too. Respect, I think, with a strong dose of skepticism.
“No way,” he repeats.
Bane inserts one of his thighs between mine and forces my leg to the side, revealing the raw red friction burn.
“Ow!” I object. “You’re hurting me!”
“Well tough. You’re interrupting a deal.”
The feeling of him firmly holding my hands and his muscled thigh between my legs makes me burn with mortification and something else. His mouth is inches from mine, his hot breath too close for comfort. Those cool eyes are relentless, promising to hold my gaze until I answer him.
“You shimmy down the fucking drainpipe, Red?”
Grudgingly, I give a stiff nod.
“Ow!” The sudden pop of a strained muscle makes me suck in my breath and slump against the wall.
“Shit.” Bane curses. “Don’t worry, I didn’t need the money anyway. Blaire’s easy to track down. I’d love to drop everything and—”
Letting my hands drop, Bane rubs his face wearily. I’d guess he hasn’t slept, either. Muttering, he gives me a grumpy look and rips off his leather jacket, revealing a snug black t-shirt. Before I can admire the fit it comes right off too, and he startles me by rolling the soft cotton over my head. His scent is heavy and clean, and my pulse jumps as he tugs his t-shirt down over me with his jaw clenched. His fingers brush my bare hips as he pulls the fabric down to cover them, and it sends a tingle between my legs.
“We better get out of here,” he rasps. “Come on.”
Shrugging his jacket back on over his now-bare shoulders, he grabs me by the waist and slings me over his shoulder like backpack.
“No, don’t—don’t take me back there, Bane!”
“No choice.”
“No! Put me down!” I shout, kicking until my shackle whacks him in the balls.
“Fuck! Fine.” He instantly drops me, letting me roll to the ground none too gently. I’m muttering and rubbing my bum when he crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows in challenge. “Let’s see you walk, then. Be my guest.”
Glaring up at him from the cobblestones, I push up onto all fours and negotiate my way upright. It takes an embarrassingly long time. My blood pressure plummets again and I’m seeing all black. Determined not to faint, I hold my breath and grit my teeth until my vision clears. Unsteady, I shuffle in a small circle to balance.
Bane’s mouth is pressed in a line, one corner quirking up. “You’re the pick of the litter, ain’t you? Pathetic.”
He sweeps me over his shoulder and marches out the alley.
“Bane—”
“Shut up.”
I give up. I’m exhausted and battered and defeated. Even after a sleepless night, Bane could crush me with one hand tied behind his back and a missing leg. There’s no point resisting.
I’ve lost.
Closing my eyes, I surrender to fatigue. The motion of Bane’s solid body carrying me lulls me to sleep. But rest is snatched away when Bane suddenly dumps me to the ground, back into reality. I slump into a ball in a corner, aware only that it’s cold and my sore skin is against hard tile.
“No,” I moan, protesting as his hands grab the sides of my shirt.
Sleep was so close.
“Arms up,” Bane grunts.
When I don’t move, he swears to himself under his breath and reaches around my hips for the edge of his t-shirt, reversing the roll until it bunches up around my uncooperative arms. Giving me another grumpy glare, Bane haunches down to squat in front of me. I feel his fingers working under my sore shoulder joints, but I am too tired to help or hinder. He draws me close to him, resting my ribcage across his thighs as he works the t-shirt over my shoulders and head with surprisingly gentle hands.
Now I’m just in my dirty bra and underwear again. Bane’s hands tilt my ribcage back up and steer me until I am leaning against the wall, facing him. He reaches for the straps of my bra and my breath becomes ragged as I realize his intention: he’s going for naked. With a whimper, I draw my arms across my body.
“Stop.”
He marks my reflex with a smirk. “Relax, Red,” he whispers. His eyes trail down my shivering body. “Your new garbage perfume could turn any dick into a limp rag.”
That irascible grin of his is back and I realize he’s teasing me like Rachel would, or Blake. Or Mr. King. The thought stirs up mixed feelings, a warring sense of longing and distrust.
“That’s what I was going for,” I retort huskily through my haze of exhaustion and nerves. “Because your man-whore habits could turn any lady boner into common sense.”
He blinks at me as if he’s not sure whether to slap me or laugh. Rather than respond, he pushes up to his feet, twists a faucet and stalks away, slamming a frosted glass door behind him.
A hot stream of water cascades over me and I yelp in surprise.