Simon Says Die

jerked the cuffs again.
    â€œStop it before you hurt yourself.”
    â€œSo I took your car,” she spat back. “Big deal. You knew I’d return it. Why are you so angry?” She waited for him to respond, but apparently he wasn’t going to.
    He slowed for another curve then punched the gas again. Every line of his body was rigid.
    She was starting to think maybe she’d pushed him too far this time. She glanced nervously out the side window at the trees rushing past. She frowned, not recognizing the road. “Where are we going?”
    â€œShort cut.”
    â€œShort cut to where?”
    He didn’t answer. A few minutes later, he slowed the car and turned up the familiar bumpy drive that ended in front of his cabin. He braked hard, nearly running into the house.
    As Pierce got out of the car, Madison glanced at the keys dangling in the ignition and debated how far her arm could stretch. Could she slide over into the driver’s seat with the cuffs on?
    Too late, her door was flung open and Pierce leaned inside. With lightning speed he unlocked the cuffs, released her seatbelt, then—instead of helping her out of the car—he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder.
    Her breath left her with a surprised whoosh, and she bounced up and down on his shoulder. He took her inside the house, slamming the door shut behind him as he turned off the alarm. Madison’s world tilted crazily as he set her on her feet.
    She took one step back toward the door when his hand clamped around her wrist and he tugged her back.
    â€œOh no you don’t. You’re not running away this time. You’re going to stand here and listen for a change.”
    She stiffened. “I wasn’t running away. I just choose not to be here.”
    He tugged her toward the couch. He plopped down, and yanked her arm so that she fell onto his lap. She wiggled to free herself. He drew in his breath sharply and grabbed her around the waist.
    â€œBe still.”
    She froze at the pained grunt he made, immediately feeling contrite. “I hurt your ribs again. I’m sorry. Are you bleeding?” She tugged one of his buttons loose and ran her hand down inside his shirt.
    He grabbed her hand and pulled it out, holding it down to her side. “My ribs are fine. It’s another part of my anatomy that’s in pain from all your wiggling. Now be still.”
    Her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “Well, if you let me off your lap, that won’t be a problem.”
    â€œIf I let you go, do you promise not to run?”
    She glanced at the door.
    â€œThat’s what I thought.” He sighed heavily. “Why didn’t you wait for me at the police station?”
    â€œI did wait. But you took forever, and I wanted to go check out that intersection.”
    â€œI was gone for five minutes.”
    â€œYou and Casey were discussing me like I wasn’t even there. I kept trying to ask you about going out to I-95, but you wouldn’t listen.”
    â€œThe police had already checked out that intersection. There was no reason for you to go there.”
    â€œWell, you didn’t tell me that. See? You can talk to me if you try. You don’t have to ignore me after all. I do prefer a conversation instead of you ordering me around like a child.”
    â€œTrust me,” he said, grimacing and shifting beneath her. “I don’t think of you as a child.”
    The growing pressure against her bottom had her belly tightening in response. She licked her lips as her gaze dipped to his mouth.
    â€œStop it,” he said.
    She licked her lips again, and purposely shifted. “Stop what?” she asked innocently.
    He plucked her off his lap. He set her on the couch and stood. “Is everything a game to you? I’m trying to be serious here, and you’re acting like a cat in heat.”
    She gasped in outrage and jumped up. With him this close, she could only see his chest, and she had no room to back up. She climbed onto the couch and stood on the cushion facing him with her hands on her hips. She poked him in the chest, careful not to touch the side where his hurt ribs were. “You . . . are an ass.”
    He leaned forward, his eyes blazing. “You are a spoiled brat who doesn’t care who she hurts to get what she wants.”
    â€œThat’s not fair. It’s not my fault you got shot.”
    â€œI’m not talking about