Chapter 44

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

ZAIN

I lean against the wall opposite the bedroom door, check through the texts she's sent on her cell, and wait for the timer to count down from ten minutes on my phone. When it reaches zero, I push open the door.

An odd surge of satisfaction goes through me at the sight of her, surprising me. She's holding the bag in one hand, the clothes in the other, and she's still wearing her own clothes. I shouldn't be satisfied, I should be annoyed she hasn't done what I wanted … but I'm not.

I prop one shoulder against the doorframe and look at her. She stares back at me, a gleam of defiance in her eyes. I have to fight against the urge to smile.

"Didn't I tell you to get changed?" My voice is soft.

Her chin lifts. "I'm not wearing these."

"What did I say would happen if you didn't do what I said?"

Her face pales, but she stands firm.

Why do I like her defiance?

Because by defying me, she's giving me exactly what I want.

A chance to prove to her, once and for all, that I'm not fucking around .

I shrug. "Fine. We'll do it your way." I take out my cell, find Sheriff McFadden's number, and put it on loudspeaker.

"Don't," she whispers.

I ignore her.

"McFadden." The male voice that answers is crisp.

"It's Zain."

"Zain! I've been waiting for you to call."

"I'm sorry, it's been hectic since I got back. Are you free this afternoon? I'd like to have that chat you offered."

"Zain, please!" Ashley steps closer.

I turn my back on her.

"My afternoon is clear. What time were you thinking?"

"Is two okay with you? I have a couple of things I need to do this morning."

A hand curls around my arm, jolting my nerves to life. I don't think I'll ever get used to anyone touching me. I pull away.

"Two is perfect. Come to the front desk. I'll let them know I'm expecting you."

"Thanks." I cut the call, pocket my phone, then turn back to face Ashley. "You don't seem to be grasping the situation you're in."

I step toward her. She steps back. I arch an eyebrow.

"If you're going to try and run, make sure you're faster than I am. Because if you make me chase you, and I catch you, you're not going to like the consequences."

She continues to back away from me.

"You locked me in the room where my brother died."

"You locked me in an eight by ten cell for fourteen years. At least this room is bigger than that, and you have a separate bathroom. I didn't. I had a bed, a sink, and a toilet all in the same space. Be thankful I didn't lock the bathroom door and leave you with a bucket. Get fucking changed."

"I'm not wearing these."

"Then you'll be walking around naked."

She makes her move, and darts to the right. But I'm waiting for her to do something like that. I catch her before she makes it to the door, and have her face down on the floor with her hands pinned behind her back seconds later.

"You had to pick the hard way, didn't you? But I didn't expect anything different, so I came prepared."

Pressing my knee into the small of her back, I adjust my grip so I have both her wrists secured with one hand, then reach into my back pocket and take out a pair of handcuffs. They're snapped into place before she can free herself.

Standing, I use one foot to roll her onto her back. Her eyes spit fire at me, but she doesn't move.

"It didn't have to be this way, Ashley. You could have put the clothes on, then come downstairs and had breakfast. Do you know what happens in prison when the inmates fight the guards?"

Her lips press together.

I crouch beside her. "They end up doing what they were told to do anyway, only the guard makes sure it's more humiliating."

While I talk, I wrap my hands into the bottom of her T-shirt and give it a sharp tug. The material rips in two.

"What are you doing?" She tries to wriggle away .

I hook my fingers into the waistband of her jeans, and drag her back. "All you had to do was get changed." I pop the button.

"No!"

"This could have been avoided." I pull down the zipper.

She tries to escape again, twisting around in an attempt to evade my hands. Bracing her feet against the floor, she pushes with her legs, and slides her body over the carpet. I shake my head, grip her jeans and drag them down her legs.

"Don't touch me!" She screams, a sound cut short when I slap my hand over her mouth.

Straddling her waist, I lean over her.

"In prison, you'd be stripped completely naked, then you'd be searched for weapons." I lower my head until my face is close to hers. "Is that what you want? Do you want the full prison experience? Because we can do that. I can guarantee you won't like it." I lift my hand away. "Answer me."

"No!"

"No? No, you're not answering me, or no, you don't want the full experience?" I hike one eyebrow.

"You're hurting me. My hands …" Her voice trembles.

We're so close, that her breath brushes over my cheek with every exhale she makes. If I move half an inch closer, I can kiss her.

The thought is like a bucket of cold water.

What the fuck?

I roll off her, then reach down and haul her to her feet. The torn T-shirt slides down her arms and hangs off the handcuffs.

"Do you know what the morning routine in a maximum security prison is?" I circle around her and rip the T-shirt until it's freed from the cuffs. She flinches at the sound. I know what she's thinking, what she's expecting me to do.

But she's wrong. She has no fucking idea what I'm going to do.

"Every morning, without fail, two guards come in. You have to be off the bed, naked, with your hands behind your head. One of the guards searches the cell, the other searches you. It's called ‘cough, drop, and squat.' Sometimes, if an inmate is particularly dangerous, they do a cavity search."

I move around until I'm standing in front of her again. "That wasn't part of my plan, but I'm beginning to think I might need to watch my back with you." I grip her chin. "Open your mouth."

"No."

"Do you think I won't force you?"

Her lips are white with how hard she's pressing them together. I squeeze her jaw, smile, then pinch her nose closed.

"How long can you hold your breath? Because I have nowhere else to be for the next eight hours."

Almost two minutes pass before she gasps and opens her mouth to take a breath. I release her nose and force my fingers into her mouth, forcing her to open it wide.

"If you bite me, I'll make this ten times worse."

I probe inside, running my fingers over her teeth, and push her tongue to one side to check beneath it. Once I'm done, I release her, stoop to grab her ruined T-shirt, and use it to wipe my fingers.

"Are you going to behave, or do I need to bend you over the bed, and search everywhere else? "

"You wouldn't dare!" She's lost all color in her face.

"Try me."

When she doesn't move, I nod. Wrapping a hand around her arm, I half-lead, half-drag her to the bed. Shoving her face down, I crouch and pull the jeans over her feet. She's down to her underwear now. My eyes zero in on the small tattoo on her shoulder. It's a bird. A kingfisher in bright blues and reds, its wings outstretched.

"No! No, I'll behave. I swear I'll behave."

My attention snaps back to the woman in front of me.

"Please, Zain. Please don't do this. I'll behave."

She won't. Once she thinks she's safe, she'll push again. But for now, I've scared her.

I let her go, and she struggles to straighten, and turn.

""Move." I step to one side so she can pass me.

"I need clothes."

"You had the chance for that. You can try again tomorrow." I ignore her protests, wrap my hands around the chain linking the cuffs, and push her out of the room, along the hallway, and down the stairs.

When we're in the kitchen, I force her down onto a chair.

"You can either sit there willingly, or I'll tie you to it. You're going to watch a video, and then you can have breakfast."

I flip open the laptop, and press play on her police interview.