She tried to keep her face clear but apparently it didn’t work. Neil hadn’t scared her, or not exactly. Going out of her way to avoid him had, however, become a priority over the past few months. And yes, one of Neil’s flunkies had approached her about her reluctance to copulate with him. She’d sent the idiot running with a few choice words.

Nick’s lip curled in distaste and the muscles in his arms flexed. Whoa. It left her in no doubt as to his willingness to spill Neil’s blood. He’d do it without a second thought. Death was right there in his eyes, shockingly clear. “They had, hadn’t they? The f**kers. Still convinced you were safe there, Ros? Your little school was turning into Lord of the Flies.”

“You’ve read it?” Probably wiser not to insult him, but the words flew out of her mouth before her brain kicked in.

“Yes.” He gave her a humorless laugh. “Year ten. I have a good memory.”

“I can handle Neil. I’m not afraid of him.”

Nick’s eyes bored into her, brooking no nonsense. She got the distinct impression he could see straight through her skin. Not a comfortable feeling. Being open to him in any way was anathema. “Don’t lie to me, Ros. You can tell me it’s none of my business, but don’t lie to me.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Alright?”

“How did you know I was lying?”

The man gave her a wide, toothy grin. Her need to know usually rubbed people the wrong way. Trust him to be amused.

His two front teeth had a slight gap between them and little lines radiated out from beside his eyes. He was closer to rugged than handsome, of Irish stock, perhaps, with his ruddy skin. Far too raw for any sort of elegance, but he seemed totally at home in his own body. A body she noticed far more than she should. The man had no moral compass whatsofuckingever. Important to keep such relevant facts in mind while she discreetly ogled him. Stupid hormones.

“You shouldn’t have spied on me,” she said.

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

“Why couldn’t you just come and talk to me like a normal person? Why the grand Machiavellian scheme, huh?”

“You needed to know what those people were capable of.”

“You keep saying that. It doesn’t justify a damn thing.” She just shook her head in disbelief. “Your mind is so warped.”

He didn’t reply.

“You’re wrong.”

“He would have hurt you, Ros. And the rest would have just made excuses,” he said, his voice horribly calm. “I had to get you out of there.”

“Oh, please. Do not try to convince me this is all some altruistic crusade on your part.” Her hands curled into fists, making the bruises ache. “This, what you’re doing here, it’s all about you, Nick, and what you want. You are not my knight in shining armor. You’re not saving me from shit.”

He stared back at her in silence for a moment. “I nearly talked to you. A couple of times I almost did. But I’m not the best with words. Besides, it was better to show you. Now you’ve seen what your friends are like firsthand. Eventually, you’ll have to accept it. You can’t trust them.”

Maybe she couldn’t. But she sure as hell couldn’t trust him either. “So why me? Why didn’t you want Janie?”

He frowned then winced, lips pulled wide in pain. Tentative fingers massaged below and above his mighty wound. “Who? The little blonde?”

She nodded.

“Give me some credit. How old is she, seventeen? Eighteen?”

“About that.”

“Not interested.” He took a deep breath then clapped his hands together, startling her so bad that she jumped. “So, are you on any kind of birth control?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Are you?”

“No. And I have every sexually transmitted infection known to mankind. Things are awful messy downstairs.”

“Excellent.”

“I’m never touching you.”

The bastard smiled the sort of smile that reeked of thinking with his prick. 176: Sexual Ethics. He had none.

“Ever.”

He snapped his fingers and cocked his head. “What’s the line about protesting too much?”

She snarled. Hopefully like a lion but more likely a cranky kitten. Childish and futile, but, damn it, what was she supposed to do? Frustration had her furious. She could have thrown herself on the floor, toddler-tantrum-style, with limbs flailing at the unfairness of the world.

Nick licked his lips and looked away for a moment. The smile never faltered. Much more of this and she’d begin to think she was a constant delight. “Pick out some clothes, Roslyn. I’ll take the chain off long enough for you to get changed. Deal?”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Or I can dress you. Your choice. And you know the tie-on panties will be involved.” He stalked a couple of steps closer and loomed. “Fight me on something else, Ros. You being cold or hungry isn’t negotiable.”

“You’re such a great guy.”

His expression altered oh so subtly. She could have sworn he flinched.

“Hurry up,” he said.

With a futile huff she returned to the cupboard, grabbed the nearest pair of jeans, a T-shirt and the rest. Searched out the baggiest bloody sweater she could find. Not one of those tight pin-up–girl boob-enhancing babies. Forget it. This required layers and lots of them.