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her. Now he just had to dig in for the duration…and hope that he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his—or her—life.
    ***
     
    “You have got to be kidding me.” Karissa glowered down at the bright yellow walkie-talkie that held down an equally innocuous-looking note: call me if you wish anything.
    Ha, as if. What she wished was to find a time machine, go back a week, and smack herself in the head for taking the path that had led her to this moment. Barring that, she’d settle for getting out of here. Somehow she didn’t think her kidnappers were going to go for that.
    She looked around the room: same four walls, same bed— really starting to hate that bed —same dresser, same nightstand with its bedside lamp that spilled light onto the tease of civility and the lie. The walkie-talkie and the note—as if she weren’t a prisoner. As if the door weren’t barred and locked. Okay. Maybe not barred, but certainly locked. Bastard.
    The walkie-talkie crackled to life. “You ready to talk?”
    Karissa hissed in a breath through her teeth. Heck no, she didn’t want to talk to that thing. She didn’t want anything to do with it. He was a vampire. A killer.
    She pointedly turned her back on the walkie-talkie, not that he’d know, but it made her feel better. Like ignoring the tingle that raced through her body at the rolling rumble of his voice made her feel better.
    What was with her? She should be scared shitless. No, she was scared shitless. She distinctly remembered being scared shitless when he’d been lying on top of her grinding his erection into her butt.
    For a second. A very brief second before her body had betrayed her, fear melting into a delicious tingle across her skin. God! What was wrong with her? Twenty-four years and never had she had any serious lust pangs. Yet one glance from this vampire and she was practically hyperventilating.
    Huh…Maybe he really did enthrall me.
    Well, she was aware now, could throw the enthrallment off as easily as she cast off clothes. She’d do her damndest to resist any further attempts too. It was only a matter of willpower, after all.
    The thing crackled again. “Fine. You can listen then. But you know…you should really cut me a break. It’s not every day I agree to having a guest.”
    Guest? She snorted. “Prisoner more like,” she muttered.
    The walkie-talkie hummed to life again. “At least cut Logan a break. He’s only trying to help.”
    Yup. Logan was helping, all right. The aiding-and-abetting kind of “helping” that the police would charge a criminal with.
    The little yellow Motorola was quiet for a while. She thought perhaps her “host” had decided to give up, but then it crackled again. “Don’t suppose you want to tell me your name.”
    Nope. She remained silent.
    “So…I guess I’ll call you Freckles.”
    Freckles? Her hand flew up to the bridge of her nose. She hated being teased about her freckles. Another point against him as far as she was concerned.
    “What were you doing on Logan’s doorstep?”
    Running—duh—from the likes of you. And didn’t that prove what an idiot she was. Trusting Logan had to be up there with all-time stupidest moves of the century. But she’d needed help, and she’d clung to her papa’s belief that Logan would help her, with a desperation born of need. Too bad Papa hadn’t known about the “friends” Logan Calhoun kept.
    “Okay. Don’t want to talk to me? Fine. Logan will be back tonight. You can tell him.”
    As if she’d talk to that traitor either. She wondered how much money he’d gotten for her. Or, he and Choppers were friends. Maybe they shared. She shuddered.
    “Just so you know, here is how things are going to work.”
    If he thought she was going to do anything but possibly tear off his balls and shove them—
    “There is only one bathroom and one bed here. And I intend to use both.”
    Sticky sour fear pooled in her mouth. Her gaze flew to the locked door. A door he could