Page 95 of Viper

Paige stood in her bra and panties with her arms wrapped around her waist. Thankfully, Craig hadn’t asked her to strip any more, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have something perverted in mind.

He walked in a slow circle around her, taking in every inch of her body and dragging his finger along her hip as he moved.

Revulsion warmed her esophagus. She closed her eyes, wishing a whale would capsize his boat right now. For a fleeting moment, she envisioned watching Craig sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“You fucked him, didn’t you?”

Her eyebrows pinched together in a hard scowl. “Beg your pardon?”

“That soldier—whoever the hell he is. You fucked him.”

“None of your business,” she snapped.

He slipped his fingers in the strap of her bra and snapped it against her chest. “It’s my business now.”

He dropped his hand, backed up to the bench seat, and sat. He withdrew something from his waistband, then leaned back on the cushion and crossed his ankle over his knee. He settled his hand on the smooth leather next to him. A gun sat comfortably in his other palm.

He pointed the gun at the slider. “Craig says go to the kitchen and get a paring knife.”

She hiked an eyebrow. “That’s awfully stupid.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Nice one, Paige. Just go on and tell the guy your plan.

His teeth flashed. “Oh, I’m not worried. You know what I’ll do if you try anything funny.” He jerked his head toward the door leading inside.

She compressed her lips and followed his instructions, moving to the open-concept kitchen.

His giving her any amount of freedom to move about the boat was a good thing. If she could prove she wouldn’t try to escape—yet—he might let her go to the bathroom, where she’d hopefully find her phone.

“Hurry up,” he hollered.

From where he sat, he had a clear line of vision into the kitchen. She found the knife block and pulled out the paring knife. The sharp blade whistled as she did so.

With the weapon in hand, she returned to the deck and stopped in front of him.

“Good girl.”

Ew. She was getting really sick of that phrase.

“Now cut your palm.”

Her nerves bubbled. “What?”

He leaned forward, jabbing his gun toward her. “I said cut your hand open. Are you stupid?”

She wet her lips. Carefully, she brought the tip of the blade to the center of her hand.

“Deep. Don’t chicken out or I’ll make you cut it again.”

Bastard. She held her breath and sliced the knife quickly over her palm. Searing pain followed in its wake. She gasped, and the knife clattered to the deck at her feet. She cupped her injury with her other hand. Blood dripped and oozed through her fingers.

“Let’s see,” he said.

The tops of her ears sizzled with anger. It took all her strength not to slap her blood-soaked hand across his evil face.

Forcing her fingers to open, she showed him the wound.

He nodded his approval. “You did better than I thought.”