Free Hard Way by Katie Porter Page A

it.
    The engine started up in a purring roar that shook down her side and up to her sensitive breasts. What had Dash been doing? Cleaning up the mess she’d dropped? Hiding evidence? Maybe he was sitting in the driver’s seat, wondering how fast she’d phone the cops as soon as she got the chance.
    Except she didn’t really want to get him in trouble. Did she?
    Her brain was a gibbering mess. She’d dropped it in the parking lot along with her groceries.
    She couldn’t follow the twists and turns of the car. Stops and starts sent her swaying. She couldn’t even keep track of how long they’d been driving. Her fingertips were tingly but hadn’t gone to sleep. Because one long, smooth acceleration lasted awhile, she thought they might have hit the freeway.
    Where the hell was he taking her?
    A slowing curve hinted at leaving the expressway. A few more minutes later, the Evo jumped and stuttered over bad road before coming to a stop.
    She coiled. No other word for it. She was not going down easily. With her knees drawn close, she pulled upright as much as she could to prop on one elbow.
    He’d put her hands out of commission, but he’d made one technical error. Her feet were free.
    She felt as much as heard the driver’s side door open, followed by the resonant thud when he shut it. Letting her imagination roam, she could practically count his steps.
    The trunk popped open.
    He loomed over her. The round moon glowed over his shoulder, throwing his features into darkness. With only that brief impression of shadow, she kicked out with both feet and caught him in the stomach.
    He fell back a step with a guttural, “ Ooph .”
    Digging her elbow into the floor of the trunk, she used her core muscles to flip up and out. She crouched in the small space between Liam and the car’s bumper.
    She’d expected him to grab her. Fight her. Throw her around or back into the trunk.
    Instead, he stepped back. “Run. If you want. If you feel like hanging out with coyotes.”
    Sunny tried to keep one eye on him while she glanced around, like a rabbit watching a fox and scanning for extra danger at the same time. An impossible task. To assess the landscape, she had to look away from his magnetic gaze.
    She found…nothing. The land had been cleared at one point, with roads run through. They stood in a half-paved cul-de-sac, where the desert stretched out to reclaim lost land. There were sidewalks and concrete posts for mailboxes—a neighborhood that had never been built.
    What a depressing sight.
    “Good God,” she muttered, but the words were wet and obscured against the gag. She pushed at it with her tongue. So slick and tight, it didn’t budge.
    “Like I said. No one around. We’re a good five miles from the nearest house. This was supposed to be a fully self-supporting community before the economy tanked.” Dash stood there with his arms crossed over his lean chest. He lowered his chin and looked at her with a wicked expression. “Run. I dare you.”
    She eyed him. Wary wasn’t the word for it. Behind her back, her palms were sticky with sweat. She ground her teeth into the resistance of the gag. Her stomach flipped over and over.
    “You’re not going to run?” He reached for her and traced a single fingertip across her forehead. A sweaty lock of hair caught on his touch. He smoothed it back into her braids. “I’m almost disappointed. I like it when you fight me, Sunny.” His smile was all teeth.
    She glared at him.
    “You don’t like the gag, do you? I find I don’t either.” His long, elegant fingers delved behind her head and slipped the clasp free.
    Sunny spat out the taste of latex. “Fuck off, you cunt.”
    “There’s my fighter.”
    After crouching again, she slammed her shoulder into Dash’s stomach, then hooked her ankle behind his knee and jerked. He was so damn fast. His arms flipped her, spun her, wrapped around her. The sharp edge of the trunk dug into her hips.
    “Get off me, you pervert,”