Page 3 of Roped

Because I can’t see his face, not completely. My stalker wears a mask.

A black-and-white skeleton mask that covers everything on his face except his startling green eyes and that scar. And now that he’s so close, my fingers itch to lower it, yank it down so I can finally see the man who’s been watching me for months. Whose eyes and scar haunt my dreams.

To curb the urge, I poke the knife in his hard-as-steel belly. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m armed, asshole. If you play with me, I’ll fucking stab you right here.” I lean closer, adding, “And guess what, blood makes me nauseous. Which means I’ll cut you and then throw up on your bleeding body. So don’t test me, understand?”

Something flashes through his eyes, something that looks very similar to amusement. Or rather, reluctant amusement—and I tighten my grip on the knife. Probably because it makes my skin warm and my heart race, and I can’t lose focus.

“You’re kind of predictable, aren’t you,” I begin, flicking my eyes back and forth between his. “You see me with another man and you have to piss a circle around me. What is it, some chauvinistic, caveman need to mark your territory? You think I’m a toy that no one else gets to play with?” I poke the knife in his abs again. “News flash: I’m not. I’m not a toy or an object or whatever the hell you think I am. I also don’t like to be stalked. That’s what you’ve been doing all this time, haven’t you? Stalking me. Watching my every move. But guess what, Phantom, I’ve been watching you too. And your lack of manners and basic understanding of how to treat a girl actually worked out in my favor. Didn’t it? Because I got you. You’re here and you’re not leaving until you answer my questions.”

If I thought my taunts would have any effect on him, I was wrong. I don’t see a single emotion flickering in his eyes. Not amusement, not even anger. His eyes are blank, glittering in the night like sharp jewels but emotionless. I don’t let it get to me, though. Or the fact that he hasn’t spoken a single word so far.

“You know what’s happening, don’t you?” I ask, trying to keep my calm. “You know what’s happened. You know. About my best friend. You know she’s missing.”

My heart squeezes in my chest. Squeezes and twists and I almost lose my grasp on the knife. The churning in my belly, the fear I’ve been feeling for the last week, threatens to take me over. But I tamp it all down. I have to. I don’t have time to be afraid. I don’t have time to lose my focus. The most important person in my life, the one person who’s been with me for everything, has gone missing, and I need to bring her back. I need to find her. She’s depending on me.

“It can’t be a coincidence,” I say, flexing my fingers around the wooden handle. “That I have a stalker, a man who watches me from the shadows, and then my best friend goes missing. Is that why you’ve been stalking me? So you could get to her. So you could…” I swallow the bile rising up in my throat. “Whatever twisted plan you have, it stops now, do you hear me? It fucking stops now. You tell me where she is, or I swear to God you’ll regret ever laying your eyes on me.”

His eyes betray nothing. It’s like he didn’t even hear me, or if he did, not one word I said made any difference to him. And it makes me hysterical. It makes me afraid. Of his intentions. For my friend.

My heart bangs in my chest, and I’m this close to losing my grip on the knife. “Did you hear what I said? You need to tell me where my friend is. You need to tell me where she is. I need to… Fucking say something!”

At this, he leans closer and I gasp. My eyes skitter down to the knife I’m holding. I feel the pressure, his weight against the tip of the blade, and if he inches any closer, I’ll cut him. The knife will break skin and oh my God, why isn’t he afraid of that? Why isn’t he afraid of me when I’m holding the weapon?

I snap my eyes up. “What are you—”

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, only a hairbreadth away from me.

His words, low and raspy, slide down my skin and pool low in my belly. “Wh-what?”

He runs his green eyes over my face for a second before saying, “Sleep now.”

His scent makes me dizzy. “But—”

I feel a prick on the side of my neck and it feels like my heart slows down. I glance down to see a needle in his hand, the hand that almost killed Jensen. Panicked, I look up. “What did you…”

My words trail off because suddenly, everything feels heavy. My limbs feel leaden and my head sways on my neck. My eyelids flutter closed, unable to stay open, and the last thing I remember before everything goes black is my masked stalker, my Phantom, tilting his face to the side before he… smells my hair.

PART I

THE HUNT

CHAPTER ONE

Three weeks ago

HE’S WATCHING ME like he wants to eat me instead of his dinner.

Which happens to be a medium-rare steak paired with a merlot. While the dinner looks delicious enough, my focus is on that wine of his. I’m paying very careful attention to when he takes a sip, how big of a sip he’s taking, and how long before that glass is almost empty. Because the more he consumes, the faster things will move. If I’m lucky, I may be able to get out of here before we order dessert. As it is, every single minute I have to sit here and watch him watch me with that beady look in his eyes is a test of my patience.

Damn it.

I should’ve doubled his dose. I don’t know why I hesitated. My date is a big guy. His shoulders are broad and he’s at least a foot taller than me. Not to mention, Wyatt is a cowboy. And fucking cowboys are like the fucking animals they work with all day long. Thickheaded with a hard-to-crack constitution. They don’t get knocked out easily. Subtly, I lean forward in my seat and strain my ears, trying to listen for any signs that my plan might be working. If so, I should be able to hear a low rumble coming from his gut. Unfortunately, all I can hear is the tinkling of expensive cutlery, laughter, and a low buzz of music in this dimly lit, smoke-filled steak house.

Oh, and his voice, asking me, “So your father tells me you’re a freshman in college.”

Abandoning all my investigative efforts, I paste a smile on my face. “Yes. Well, I just finished my freshman year. I’ll be a sophomore come fall.”

I watch him take another sip of his wine before he smiles. “Any exciting plans for the summer?”