Page 92 of Viper

Craig wagged a finger in front of her face. “See? You’re too damn enjoyable. If circumstances were different, I might keep you around a few days.”

Desperation beat an excited drum in her chest. She needed to stick with her plan. Stall and keep her shit together. Craig would kill her as soon as he was bored, so she needed to keep him distracted and entertained until Troy and his team could find her.

Except . . . they were miles away from shore. She had no idea how Troy would be able to track her down. She wanted to believe Phantom Ops had resources she hadn’t thought of, but a phone call from her would certainly speed up the process.

“What’d you have in mind then? Kind of hard to play Twister like this.” She jangled the handcuffs and earned another twitch of his lips.

“I was thinking something a little more exciting.” He rested his elbow on the edge of the boat and propped his head on his fist. “I’ve been wondering just how adventurous you are.”

She flashed a fake smile. “Don’t let my diving hobby fool you. I prefer my life very bland.”

He grabbed her cheek between his thumb and forefinger, pinching hard. She winced but didn’t struggle.

He pulled her face closer to his. “I call bullshit. We’re going to see just how much thrill you like.”

He let go.

Her face pulsed, her skin as hot as a sunburn. Craig shifted and dug his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a set of tiny keys and brought one to the lock encompassing her wrist. Then he froze.

“If you try even one stunt, I’ll fillet you from the face down and let you watch the sharks eat bits and pieces of you.”

His threat hit her with the force of a hurricane. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, using every cell in her body not to react. Ice wrapped around her skin and her knees trembled.

“You’ve been warned,” he said with caution, as he turned the key.

The lock snapped open. For a millisecond, she was free. Opportunity dangled before her—miles and miles of its blue temptation urging her to launch herself overboard.

Self-preservation kept her compliant.

Craig’s lips turned up at the corners. He seemed surprised. “Good girl. Very good girl. Now, stand up.”

She bit down on the edges of her tongue so she wouldn’t tell him to go fuck himself. No point in letting him get started on the carving party early.

She folded her arms around her waist and turned to face him. “I have a feeling you don’t want to play Simon says.”

His lips split into a grin. “Something similar. It’s a cross between that and truth or dare. Maybe we should call this game Craig says.”

Her senses tingled with warning. “All right. Truth,” she countered, as if he’d given her the option.

His gaze turned stormy and challenging. “Not that easy, starfish.” He licked his lips. “Craig says, take off your clothes.”

“Didn’t see that coming,” she mumbled sarcastically.

She reached for the hem of her shirt, and her gaze drifted over the rippling water. Tears stung her eyes. Resistance stiffened her muscles, but she forced herself to go through the motions.

If or when he tried to get her to perform sexual acts, she’d refuse. That would be her hill to die on. Right now, she had to use every second to stall—to keep herself alive long enough for help to find her.

She dragged the shirt over her head, wishing the wind would pick her up and carry her away.

It didn’t.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Troy jammed his foot on the gas. Adrenaline incinerated his veins. His palms were cold and clammy on the leather steering wheel. He kept his eyes on the road, but thoughts of Paige obliterated his concentration.

“Easy man,” Havoc said. “You’re going to get us pulled over.”

Ignoring his friend’s comment, he jammed his index finger toward the side of the road, pointing at the spot where they’d found Striker hours ago. “We were right here.”