Chapter Seven

Liberty's Fee

Ella

"You haven't answered my question." She slid her legs from the bed, still clutching the blanket to her chest. The cover was surprisingly soft and comfy. It reminded her of one she'd bought from a high-end store in Milan, except its worn condition suggested it had been rather more loved than her purchase. Her gaze flitted to the man who owned it.

Owned.A shudder of dread passed through her as she grasped its soft fibers. He made it sound like he owned her, too. Did that mean she was just like the blanket?

"What does it matter how much he owes?" He pulled his chair across the room and sat down opposite her.

Far too close for her liking, but then she hadn't complained when he'd tried to kiss her.

Kiss? Her heart sped up. Is that what that was?

Their lips had collided, and God help her, she'd liked it. Even after everything he'd put her through, she couldn't say she didn't.

Tucker was dangerous. Her aching shoulders were a testament to that. But what perturbed her every inch as much as his proclivity for savagery was the way he could transform from the monster to the man in a matter of moments. She remembered his soft touches all too well, each brush of his fingers, and now the brush of his mouth, all branded into her memory.

Aside from the matter of escape, what played on her mind more than anything was how much more of that gentle goading she could withstand before her defenses crumbled. Whatever she'd told him, an element of his version of events had been true. She was disgusted with his behavior, yet he was right. Secretly, she had enjoyed his attention. The feel of his hands on her body had been electric. If only he'd brought her back here to the bed rather than the barn, then maybe she'd have wanted to…

No.She gulped at her resolve. No, that's not happening. I'm not giving in. I have to focus on finding a way out, not succumbing to hischicanery.

"It matters to me." She tensed as he leaned forward in his chair. "Apparently, whatever the answer is equates to my personal value to both you and my father." Her head throbbed at the demoralizing idea. How could a person have a monetary value? What did that say about either of them? "So yeah, I'd like to know."

Her tone had shifted to sarcasm. She couldn't believe he didn't understand why this was important to her. Had her father sold her out for a mere few thousand, or was there a seven or even eight-figure price tag on her head?

"Oh." His brow rose as if he was surprised at her answer, but she couldn't imagine why. "I'm not sure if the answer will please you or not."

"Probably not." There were no good answers, after all. Whatever number he parroted, she was still bound and stuck with him in the middle of nowhere. "But please just tell me, anyway."

Do I have to beg him for this as well?

Frustration swelled in her chest at her weakness, torn between her inability to see her fate coming and the utter insanity of the presumption that she should have done. How could she have seen this coming? How could anyone think their own kin would throw them under the truck like this?

"Four million." He straightened on his seat, his gaze bearing into her.

She imagined he might expect her to bolt for the door again, but the truth was far simpler. Evidently, she'd been wrong. There were good numbers, after all. One hundred and fifty million, for example. That sounded like a better normal to be worth. Or maybe a billion? But four million? That was nothing to a family like the Bennetts.

"Four million?" She buried her head in her bound hands, trying to fathom what he'd said. Alexander could have raised that paltry sum from his gambling mates. Hell, he could have crowd-funded it! Why would he have chosen this outcome and sent his daughter to stay with a brute like Tucker?

There was only one solution, as far as she could tell.

Her father didn't love her at all.

Pulling in a painful breath, the idea resonated.

He doesn't love me.

In the end, she was as pathetic as hordes of women before her—just another girl with Daddy issues.

"Yes."

Concern radiated from Tucker's voice, and as she snuck a peek at him between her fingers, she noticed how he shifted awkwardly on the chair. He looked palpably uncomfortable at her fresh display of emotion.

Strange.The thought flitted around her head. He never cared when I cried before…

"I thought it would be more." She glanced at the wall as she lowered her hands. After everything she'd been through the last day and all the years Alexander had let her down, she was surprised how much her father's rejection stung. She should have been worth more.

"I'm sorry." He looked stunned, as though he couldn't believe he was apologizing, but the glimmer of unease in his gaze reassured her that, on some level at least, he was human, and it was possible for him to care.

Perhaps he just couldn't face her unraveling in front of him. Maybe he was too hungry to deal with her meltdown. Whatever the case, he seemed keen to mollify her, and Ella realized she could use that to her advantage.

"He's an asshole." She breathed out slowly, trying to put the man who'd sired her from her head.

"Your father?"

"Yes." Tugging at the ropes at her wrists, she met his eyes.

"No arguments from me." His gaze traveled from her wrists to her face as though he'd already figured out what she was thinking.

Maybe he had?

Maybe taking people hostage was normal for Tucker, and he understood the psychology of captivity. How would she know?

"Can you cut these ropes, please?" She pushed her hands out toward him. "I've been tied a long time." By her reckoning, at least twenty-four hours. She was starting to wonder if she'd ever have the use of her four limbs again.

"You know I can't." He shrugged. "I can't trust you, little girl."

Little girl.There it was again, the odd term he'd used before. It had irritated the hell out of her in the barn, and it sounded no better in the cabin.

"Why are you calling me that?" She recoiled from him, wrestling with her competing emotions of disgust, curiosity, and fatigue.

She still couldn't accept that any of this was happening to her. She'd lived a perfectly content life before she'd woken up in the woods, but this—being there with him in a hut without running hot water—that was barely even an existence.

But it is happening.Her head ached at the obvious conclusion. It was happening, and she had to toughen up and survive before the weight of the burden pulverized her.

"Because it suits you." The bastard had the audacity to laugh. "Look at you." He gestured in her direction. "You're tiny beside me."

"Yeah." Her tone was wry. "I noticed."

"No offense was intended." He looked to be trying to suppress his amusement. "You don't like the term?"

Like it? Why would a grown woman want to be referred to as a child?

"What's to like?" She attempted to keep her voice even that time, conscious not to piss him off again. Like it or not, Ella needed him in the short term. To feed her and ultimately, free her.

"It's cute." His gaze scanned her. "Like you."

"Oh." For fuck's sake. What was she supposed to say to that?

"In fact, I think I'll use it from now on." His grin reemerged.

"What?" She wanted to scratch his self-satisfied smirk from his face. How could she ever have thought he was even vaguely attractive?

"I'll call you little girl." His gaze was knowing. "I think you'll grow to love it."

"I won't." Her gaze shifted to the window. Pale light flooded the room, although since she never wore a watch, she had no idea what time it was.

My phone used to tell me the time.

Not for the first time she missed her trusty device. It was the longest they'd ever been parted.

"Then we'll agree to disagree." He leaned back as if he had the right to summarily decide what her name was. She was Ella Bennett—simple as that. She didn't require some brute to come along and offer her a new identity. "And while we're on the subject, little girl, I propose a new name for me, as well."

"Oh?" She definitely had a few suggestions for what that could be, though he probably wouldn't approve of them. "You told me to call you Tucker."

"I don't usually go for formalities," he concurred. "But for you, I'm prepared to make an exception."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She sensed where this was going and how little she was going to enjoy it.

"It means you'll call me whatever I tell you to if you want to stay out of the barn." His lips twisted into an ugly sneer. "The ropes are still hanging in there, you know. I'll be happy to remind you how much you enjoyed them."

"You wouldn't!"

Though even as she spoke, she realized that he would. Tucker still held all the cards, and aside from the relative comfort of his bed and a few furtive details about her plight, she hadn't made any progress at all.

"‘Fraid so." He arched an eyebrow as if he was daring her to defy him.

"So?" Her heart was beating so loudly, she was surprised he couldn't hear it. "What am I supposed to call you?" Asshole? She pressed her lips into a line to prevent the smile that wanted to rise at her unspoken jibe.

"I think sir will suffice for the time being." The way he ran his tongue over his teeth suggested he thought there was something sexy about the proposal.

"What?" Anger exploded inside of her, making it impossible to think. The fact that she was tired, starving, and still bound was lost on her as adrenaline whipped through her bloodstream. Tucker was a jerk-off, and if he didn't know, she was happy to be the one to tell him. "I'm not fucking calling you sir!"

She didn't call anyone sir.

Ella didn't defer.

"You're not hungry, then?" He turned to the enormous pot hanging over the fire. "Because if you don't cooperate, then you don't eat."

"That's just cruel." Brow furrowing, she shook her head at his mean approach. "You said this didn't have to be vicious." The image of him telling her while she dangled in the ropes next door reran in her head. She hadn't been able to answer him that time. Now, finally, she had the right to reply.

"It doesn't." He leaned closer, abruptly closing the space between them. Backing against his pillow, she nearly lost her balance and tumbled to the floorboards below. "All you have to do is be compliant and do this thing for me."

This thing?His soothing tone made his outrageous request sound almost reasonable.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why should I call you that?" She couldn't even bring herself to say the word. He had to be fucking joking.

"Because while you're here, I'm your superior." His blue eyes lit up at the sick idea. "I thought we could get along without such conventions, but I guess I was wrong." His brow rose. "You don't want to cooperate. Maybe you'll do better with the reminder."

"What the fuck?" Her fight-or-flight responses were pulsing so hard, she was struggling to catch her breath. Her gaze flitted from him to the door, then to the window.

Was there any way she could get out, get past him, and get away? Of course, her wrists were still wrapped in unyielding rope, but there didn't seem to be much she could do about that for the time being. Maybe if she kept working on the ropes, she'd encourage some slack in them, or perhaps she'd find something sharp to work through the fibers. Either way, she'd have to cope with the binds until a solution presented itself.

"You already had your warning." His voice was a snarl as he reached forward and grasped her bound wrists.

She went with a yelp as he tugged her toward him, breathing hard as her nose skimmed his. "What warning?" Digging in her heels, she pushed back, balancing on the edge of the bed.

"About leaving." His gaze was unrelenting, although he allowed her to resume her place.

"I'm not leaving." Her heart was thundering in her chest. "But I don't want to call you sir."

"I know you don't, little girl, but as I've told you before, this isn't about what you want."

She clenched at the way he made that sound. His straightforward tone belittled its significance. This was happening to her, yet somehow, she had no choice in any of it. Her head wanted to burst at the injustice.

"If you want to eat, then you'll obey." His arrogant sneer was almost intolerable.

"Fine."

It wasn't fine. She swore if her hands hadn't been bound, she'd have swung for him, but she wasn't an idiot. If she was violent, then she invited ferocity from him, and that was something she wouldn't be able to stand. If Alexander had any redeeming quality, it was that he'd never raised his hand to her. True, he'd rarely been there, but she still gave him credit for that. Violence against women was, for Ella, an unforgivable sin.

Like the way he treated me last night.Her breath hitched at the recollection. He trussed me up and stripped me. He groped me and gagged me. Isn't that bad enough?

Yes. It was terrible, but it wasn't the same as being punched or slapped and kicked. Tucker was a monster, then, but he seemed to be one with a glimmer of a conscience.

There was hope in that.

"Go on, then." Releasing her ropes, he rose to his feet. "Let's hear you say it. I want to hear you call me sir."