Read Trapped by a Dangerous Man for Free Online

wrapped around a large open space. A gigantic skylight poured bright light into the center of the house. I immediately loved the blonde wood floor and the rustic reds that threaded through the rugs in the space below. The soothing color scheme was repeated in pillows on the enormous sofa, a wraparound affair that likely cost more than my entire year’s salary.
    “Walking doesn’t hurt?” Corbin asked.
    I shook my head. “My feet feel fine.”
    “You were in much better shape than I would have guessed,” he said. “If I’d found you even ten minutes later, you might not have this happy ending.”
    I inhaled sharply and fought back an unexpected wave of emotion at the memory of my ill-fated walk. I’d probably be having nightmares for months or even years to come.
    Corbin cleared his throat. “Probably won’t have any lasting damage, but I won’t know until I take a look.”
    The stairway was unlike anything I’d seen before. It comprised four steps down, then a landing and a turn, then more steps down, then a landing, then steps the rest of the way. I glanced up at the skylight. This house was the exact opposite of my cramped, lightless rat’s nest. Actually a muddy pit would have been an improvement on my apartment, especially if it didn’t have an ant problem in the summer.
    Corbin stayed close, a steadying hand at the ready, as I descended the stairs, wobbly on my lumpily bandaged feet. “This way.” He led me to a large but warm kitchen. An assortment of first-aid supplies was spread out on the sturdy table.
    “Sit there.” Corbin indicated a wooden chair. I sat and looked around. The kitchen was every bit as nice as the rest of the house, and the stovetop, ovens (three of them, two of them stacked) and other appliances were, by my guess, top-of-the-line. Apparently crime paid, and well. For a fleeting moment, I entertained the ridiculous fantasy that maybe Corbin would trade me the house in exchange for giving him a 24-hour head start. As a bounty hunter, I wasn’t bound by the same code of ethics as a police officer, but none of the lowlifes I’d tracked down had ever made an offer that was remotely tempting.
    Corbin pulled up a chair in front of me. I had my knees clamped together, and he positioned his own knees on either side. I could feel the warmth radiating off his legs. “Raise your hands,” he ordered. When his gaze crossed mine, I was surprised to find a gentle look in those blue-green eyes. Corbin Lagos, criminal of a thousand faces?
    And heaven help me, but they were all gorgeous as sin.
    After he unknotted the bandage, he slowly and carefully unwound it.
    “What happens if you’re wrong?”
    “Wrong?” He said the word like he didn’t know what it meant.
    I gnawed on my lower lip and tasted blood; hopefully Corbin had some lip balm handy. “I mean… if I need to get to a hospital.”
    “Then I guess I’ll sharpen a knife and start cutting.”
    A strangled noise escaped my throat.
    “Don’t worry. I’d get you drunk first.” He didn’t quite sound like he was joking.
    Enough of the bandage had been removed that I was able to wiggle my fingers. Suddenly, the wrapping felt claustrophobic.
    “Stay still.” Corbin unwound the last bits and dropped the gauze on the floor. “Hm.”
    My fingers didn’t look great —they were pale and seemed strangely vulnerable, but they most certainly weren’t gangrened or anything close to it. Corbin took my left hand in his. His simple touch felt like a jolt of electricity, and I started.
    “You ok?”
    I didn’t know how to answer that. Sure, I’d heard the expression about sparks flying, but I’d never imagined it could be an actual physical event. “Felt like I got shocked.”
    His large, warm fingers pressed into my palm, straightened my fingers and carefully worked down the length of each one. “Did it happen again?”
    I shook my head, and he repeated the procedure with the other hand. His steady warmth traveled along my skin,