Deacon cringed as his name, his real full name, snapped out of Lana’s mouth like a sharp round from a shotgun. She sounded absolutely livid, and he couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked with her cheeks flushed in anger. He pushed aside the inappropriate thought and focused on her blue eyes. He had no idea where to start, or how he could possibly explain himself and his actions to this woman.
So he just stood there, his mouth half open, his brain working overtime trying to find a way to make this right.
Uh-huh. Because making this right was actually a legitimate option.
Fortunately, Lana spoke again before he could say anything, though when he heard the words, he realized there was nothing fortunate about it.
“You’re a cop, right?” she said urgently.
His eyebrows shot north. A cop? She actually thought he was a cop?
“Undercover,” she went on. “You’re pretending to be in cahoots with these jerks so you can arrest them, right?”
A headache formed at his temples. Christ. The hope flashing across her face was almost painful. He dreaded having to burst that optimistic bubble.
“You’re going to get me out of here. Right?”
The pleading note to her voice did him in. He broke the eye contact, turning his head to focus on the splintered old desk beneath the window. He knew Le Clair had been trying to punish him by assigning him babysitting duty, and he felt wholly punished. Not because he’d gotten stuck with a task that most soldiers despised, since coddling targets was always a pain in the ass, but because he now had to explain to the woman he’d taken to bed that she was wrong. That he was, in fact, one of those “jerks” she spoke of with such vehemence.
“Deacon,” she begged softly.
He found the courage to look at her again. “No.”
A beat of silence. “No, what? No, you are in cahoots with them, or no, you won’t get me out?”
A pained sigh left his throat. “No to both.”
Horror flooded her eyes. “You’re not a cop?” she whispered.
He shook his head.
“You’re…you’re part of this?”
He nodded.
The horror turned to rage. Her petite body began to shake in violent shudders.
“Lana—” he started.
“Don’t you dare say my name!” she roared. “If you want to call me something, call me Miss Kelley, just like my other kidnappers.”
“Keep your voice down,” he said sharply.
“Why?” she taunted. A humorless laugh popped out of her mouth. “So the others don’t find out you had sex with your hostage? So you don’t get fired?”
That pesky spark of guilt ignited in his gut again. He forced himself to ignore it. Fine, so he’d slept with the woman he’d been assigned to tail. Nobody ever said he was an honorable man. In fact, honor played no part in his life. Had it been honorable for his father to murder his mother? Had it been honorable for his uncle to steal Deacon’s inheritance? Hell, no. His entire genetic code had dishonor programmed into it.
“So we don’t get killed,” he corrected, in harsh reply to her demand. “If Le Clair finds out about that night, he’ll either fire me or kill me, and then you’ll be all alone here. If he decides to kill you, too, I won’t be here to stop him.”
Another laugh. “You just said you’re not here to save me. How do I know you wouldn’t just let him kill me anyway, even if you were standing right beside him?”
“I promise you, I won’t let that happen.”
She went quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, disgust laced her voice. “Jeez, I actually believe you. What is wrong with me? I slept with a criminal, for God’s sake. You’re kidnapping me! Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because it’s the truth,” he said simply. “As long as I’m here, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Those big blue eyes searched his face. “You mean it.”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
“You don’t want me hurt.”
“No,” he agreed.
“Then let me go,” she pleaded. “Please, Deacon, let me go.”
“I…can’t.” Weariness spilled into his body. “I know you don’t understand any of this, but you need to cooperate with these men. You can’t antagonize them. They wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you, Lana. I promise you that.”
Her bottom lip began to tremble.
Deacon forced himself to stay still, not to eliminate the short distance between them and take her in his arms.
“How long are you going to keep me here?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Your family will be contacted soon, and I assume the exchange will happen shortly after that.”
“The exchange? You mean, extorting money from my father?” Her tone rang with bitterness.
He nodded ruefully.
“I…never took you for greedy,” she finally said, her dark blond eyelashes coated with sparkling moisture. “That night at the museum, you acted like money didn’t matter to you.”