Free Dark Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 6) by Marysol James Page A

stupidly grateful for one hot minute that the man had helped her, but she had to remember that the only reason she’d been injured in the first place was because she’d been escaping him . He was one of her captors, and no matter how sweet and gentle he’d shown himself capable of being when she was hurt and helpless, he was a bad guy. A criminal. A one-percenter. A killer. A violent, brutal man whose only allegiance was to his brothers, and to his club. He’d turn on her without a second of thought, and beat her near-to-death if he was told to do so, undoing all of the healing that he’d so carefully and patiently bestowed upon her.
    And speaking of the healing: he hadn’t taken care of her because he gave a good goddamn about her. No, his job was to keep her in one piece until her fate was decided. He’d seriously fucked up by letting her knock him out and run, and he’d had to get her back, had to nurse her back to health for the negotiations. She was only useful whole and alive, after all. Her bleeding out in a cave would mean that the Fallen Angels would have exactly zero leverage over her brother. None of this was personal to him , and she’d better not forget that again.
    Actually… one part of this was personal to him, she knew. If he’d let her get away, or if she’d died, then his own President would have ended him with a bullet to the head. No doubt about that, since that was how these idiots rolled. So Warren Kane was only interested in saving his own ass – and that had meant saving hers.
    She was bitterly sorry for her moment of softness now. Sorry that she knew his real name, sorry that she knew any name that he went by at all. Sorry that she’d allowed herself to see him as human, even just for a minute.
    Well. That wouldn’t be happening again.
    From Warren’s side, he reminded himself that this was Crusher Alcott’s sister – and that made her both a useful pawn and an enemy of the club. He had no idea what Ace and Kirk Jensen had planned for Shay, but he knew that they’d want her off their hands as soon as possible. Getting attached to a woman who was going to just up and disappear back to her real life one day soon made no sense whatsoever.
    Well. Getting more attached than he already was, at least.
    “So, girl,” he said, aiming for barely-civil, even though it hurt him to be cruel and dismissive to her. He’d held her slim curves to him as she'd slept, inhaled her scent of vanilla, touched her silky skin. How the fuck did it make a lick of sense to be cold and aloof now? “It’s past noon. You gonna laze around some more?”
    She did need some more sleep; of course she did. It killed her to admit this weakness to him, but she had to be smart about this. If she was going to make her next escape her last one, then she had to get her strength back. She had to rest up, eat, and take a good look around the cabin. Since the cell service out this far was non-existent, there had to be a land line in here somewhere. Probably in one of the locked rooms, down the hall near the bathroom.
    So, yeah. She needed time to get herself together, organize a second plan. Then she’d make her move, though she imagined it’d be way harder to get him down and out again. She’d have to get seriously creative about escape now. After all, she’d totally tipped her hand about not being some sniveling, passive nitwit, and she’d bet that he’d already locked up all the frying pans.
    “I need to get some more rest,” she said, reluctantly telling him the truth. “Where’s my bed?”
    His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You want to go downstairs?”
    “If that’s where my bed is, then yes.”
    That stopped him. The bed downstairs was small and uncomfortable, and the basement was freezing cold right now, since he hadn’t had time to turn the heat on yet. No goddamn way he was putting her down there, not when she was still pale and shaky. She needed warmth and comfort, a fresh bandage, some more