She stepped closer, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose at the stale smell of him. Forcing a smile, she met his gaze as she rubbed her studded bra across the width of his back.
"Like that?"
His thick groan was answer enough. She snorted softly.
"I'm not convinced." She stepped back and slapped the whip against his bare butt. "Spread your legs."
He did. Quickly.
"What do you want me to do, little boy?"
He gave another thick groan. "Rub your breasts up and down my back."
She gave him another slap with the whip. "I didn't hear the magic word."
"Please."
She slapped him again. "I don't believe you meant it. And who gave you permission to look at me?"
"Pretty please," he repeated, his words a shudder of excitement as he turned his head away.
She smiled grimly and reached back, wrapping her fingers around the Taser.
"Get ready," she whispered, slipping the whip between his spread legs, caressing him even as she pressed the Taser against his back. He didn't make a sound, simply collapsed.
She caught the gun from his nerveless fingers, then stepped back so he could fall.
"Guard number one down and out," she said softly, more for Jack's benefit than Grey's.
She took one strip of leather from her waist and quickly hog-tied the guard. Then she shifted shape, and began weaving her way through the many rooms that separated her from Grey.
Well done, Grey said. But I doubt the second guard will be as dense as the first.
What can you tell me about him?
He's big. And a horse shifter.
Yum. I've never had a horse shifter before. I'm told they rather live up to a stallion's reputation.
Damn it, Eryn, enough.
His voice held that note of fury again, and she felt like laughing. If he was reacting so readily to her teasing, he did indeed care.
So, does this sudden sense of propriety mean you intend to explore our relationship further?
Not if you continue to talk about fucking other men.
I'm a mutt. Mutts have sex on the brain.
I'd rather this mutt concentrate on the business at hand—
me.
I'm here because of you. And I'll do whatever it takes to get you free. But could she have sex with another man while Grey was watching? Deep down, she knew the answer was no. Grey was the only man she wanted inside her.
What else can you tell me about the guard?
His name is Leon Harvey. He's ex-military, and hired help.
So he has no loyalty to our killer?
No. And the killer's name is Marcy Jones. Though he prefers Marshall.
So he is officially a she?
Officially, yes.
Mentally?
A male who hates his feminine side.
So does he really want acceptance? Love? Or was that just a line you were spinning to get me off the track.
No line. And don't forget babies.
She frowned. So why is he slicing these women up the way he is if he wants babies? Surely, as a male, he could find a woman to impregnate?
His male side is sterile.
So if he wants kids, he has to rely on the very part of him he hates?
Yes. And the anger he feels is taken out on women who are similar in looks.
Which also explained how he was getting into the bars. He was going there as a fertile woman, not a sterile man.
She trotted through yet another doorway and entered a long corridor. The tang of cigarette smoke began to taint the air, along with the faint stench of burnt flesh.
Silver, she thought. They'd chained Grey with silver. Which would explain why he hadn't escaped. It would also stop her from freeing him. Silver burned, and stopped, shifters of any race. She swallowed the rising sense of sick fury and asked, Your guard a smoker?
Yes.
Then I must be getting close. She hesitated, sniffing the air. The scent of man was coming from the left of the doorway ahead. The scent of desire and raw masculinity from the right. Did Ms. Marshall and Leon say anything to each other before Marshall left that would help me get close to this man?
I was out of it a lot of the time. Grey hesitated. He was going on about a special form of torture he had planned for me before he kills me, but that's really it.
I think he was planning to drag me back here, torture me, then kill me, while you watched.
He phoned you, didn't he?
Said he was you.
You weren't fooled. He sounded oddly proud.
My hormones weren't fooled. She shifted shape. I'm about to enter. Don't react.
If you look as good as I think you do, that's going to be a little hard.
Oh, I expect you're going to be more than a little hard by the time I've finished with you.
Damn it, woman, what have you got—
You'll soon find out, she cut in, then cleared her voice and added loudly, "Leon? Leon Harvey? I'm about to enter the room, and I do not wish to be shot."
The sound of a safety being clicked off was unmistakable in the sharp silence. "Do it. With your hands up."
She raised her hands and entered the room, glancing immediately to the right.
And there she saw Grey.
Beaten and bloody.
Bruised and naked.
Tied spread-eagled to the wall behind him by silver chains that had burned deep welts into his wrists and ankles.
Fury rushed through her, but she swallowed it down and carefully schooled her face to blankness. Looking to her left, she raised an eyebrow at the man holding the gun aimed at her head and said calmly, "That the man Marshall wants me to give the full treatment to?"
Chapter Seven
The big man with black hair and bay-colored skin didn't even blink. "What are you blabbering about, woman?"
"That man." She waved a raised hand toward Grey, ensuring her skirt rode up a little bit more as she did so.
Damn, that's a mighty fine thatch your flashing there, came Grey's comment. But I do wish you'd stop flashing it at all and sundry.
It's my thatch, and I'll damn well flash it where I want.
She hesitated, then said softly, God, you look like shit. To the guard, she added, "Is he the man Marshall wants treated?"
I'm far better than I look. Marcia didn't seem to want to cause me serious damage just yet. And I can see I'm going to have a lot of trouble keeping your wilder tendencies all to myself.
She hid her smile and kept her gaze on the guard. Hunger flickered in the shifter's dark eyes, but there was no other reaction. "What do you mean, treated?"
"What do you think I mean?" She allowed a saucy smile to touch her lips, and lowered her voice a notch. "There's more than one way to kill a man, you know. And some of them can be both delicious and extremely, extremely, painful."
He frowned. "I don't know anything about this."
"Then call Marshall and confirm it, because my time is expensive, and I don't think he's going to be happy if we stand here wasting it."
The big man continued to stare at her, the gun in his hand unwavering. "I think I might. I don't like the feel of this."
"Fine. Shoot me or call him. Your choice. Just do something because my arms are getting a little tired hanging here above my head." She wriggled her fingers, making the skirt rise and fall again.