Free Delly's Last Night (Go Get 'Em Women) by Tracy Cooper-Posey Page B

surprise and dismay that he had read her thoughts so easily.
    He pulled out a second set of cuffs and moved around the bed to where she stood at the foot of it. He reached for her right wrist, which she pulled out of the way.
    He laughed. It was low and quiet. “You really have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?” He stepped up close to her, backing her up against the bed. He wrapped his arm around her waist once more, pulling her up against him hard. This time she couldn’t prevent the gasp that escaped her. Even as she gasped, his hand slid down her wrist and the cuff was snapped over it.
    He lifted the cuff to the opposite bedpost. Delly fought him every inch of the way. It was her right arm, which hadn’t been injured, and she was strong for a woman. She fought and tried to draw her arm back to her side. He smiled and applied more pressure, until the cuff was close enough to slip around the bedpost with a soft, final ‘snick’.
    She was now effectively immobilized. She couldn’t twist her way out of the cuffs with two arms anchored to two different bedposts. He took advantage of her helplessness. He grabbed the back of the hood, ripped it from her head and stepped back to study her.
    She shook her hair out of her eyes, her heart sinking. Well, it was done now.
    He spread the jacket of his tuxedo and planted his hands on his hips. “Delly Alexander.” He didn’t seem to be surprised at all. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve changed your hair since I saw you last.”
    “That was ten years ago, Neal.”
    “And your eyes, too. You’ve done something to them. They used to be green.”
    “Yeah, they used to be,” she said softly.
    He nodded his head. It was a small, thoughtful movement. He was wearing a modern tuxedo, but the tie was hanging loose. The black hair swept back from his forehead, showing the widow’s peak. His eyes commanded attention, as always. They were silvery grey and it was hard to look away from them. The first time she had met Neal Cadogan, she had been unable to get rid of the sensation that he could see all the way through her. That he could see all her thoughts. Which meant that he understood her completely in a way that no one else could.
    Unlike hers, his eyes hadn’t changed a bit.
    It was Neal who looked away first. He went into the bathroom Delly had inspected briefly before tackling the safe. She heard cupboards opening. Then he re-emerged, carrying a pink bottle, that he swigged from a couple of times before dropping it onto the coffee table that sat between the sofa and arm chair at the other end of the long room.
    He glanced at her, his expression still thoughtful, as he slipped passed the coffee table and rummage in the drawers of the old roll top desk sitting against the wall beside the big picture window. He straightened and headed back toward the bed. He had a flick-knife in his hand. As he approached her, he hit the button and it sprang open. To Delly, the steel glinted in the subdued light in the room.
    “The way I see it,” he said, his voice still soft, still low. “Is that I’ve caught you in the middle of a criminal act, before you had a chance to actually steal anything. And now I have a choice.” He stopped in front of her. “Do I call the police, or do I let you go?” He weighed the knife in his open hand. “The fact that I know you does add an interesting spin to the question, doesn’t it?”
    She kept her mouth shut. Nothing she could say would encourage him to let her go. He was playing with her. Neal Cadogan was not the sort of man who would forgive this sort of debt.   There was a fine line between his brows that hinted at anger held back.
    Then, suddenly, the anger was right there—open, hot and raging. “Why were you knocking off my house?” he demanded, his fist around the knife. “Why?”
    “You’ve got better than five hundred grand in diamonds and currency in your safe.”
    He stepped closer. “Why me ?”
    She managed a shrug.