He put the chair near the bureau, then strolled to the bed, had a close look at Michael—whose eyes were closed now, his jaw slacked. Leah wasn’t certain if he was faking it or if he’d passed out again. But then Adolfo grabbed the rope that bound Leah’s hands to her feet and yanked it carelessly, jerking her legs, too. “Ouch,” she snapped at him.
“Oh, I am very sorry,” he said with mock concern. But he untied her hands, then her legs. With a sigh of relief, Leah started to inch off the bed. Adolfo stopped her by grabbing her roughly by the arm and jerking her up into his chest. They stood nose-to-nose—well, forehead-to-chin, as Leah was shorter than him—and Adolfo laughed so darkly that a shiver of fear winged down Leah’s spine. “Do not think to fight me, mi amor,” he said with a cold smile, “for I have not yet decided if I will kill you, too.”
“That’s really . . . not very nice,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I am not a nice man.”
“I’m definitely starting to get that picture.”
“Be good, and maybe I won’t kill you,” he said, and with another jerk, dragged her to the wooden chair while her head whirled around words like decided and kill. But when he pushed her to sit in the chair, natural instinct kicked in, and she struggled. Adolfo instantly grabbed the gun from his belt and shoved the nozzle up hard against her cheek. “What do you want, Leah? Do you want me to kill him now? Or do you want me to kill you?”
When she didn’t answer, he pushed the gun even harder against her face. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Don’t . . . don’t, don’t. You don’t even know if the safety is on,” she said through gritted teeth, trying her damnedest not to move.
It worked. He pushed her away, checked the safety, then stuffed the gun back into his trousers. But his point was made—he wrapped a long cord of rope around her, tying it tightly behind her back. When he had bound her, he stood back and admired his handiwork. One trussed up man on the bed, one trussed up woman in a chair. “Excellent,” he said, nodding approvingly. “I think you will be good, you and him, until I return.”
“Hey, wait,” Leah cried. “How long are you going to leave us like this? Michael could be seriously hurt.”
Adolfo didn’t answer, just walked out of the bedroom. The next thing she heard was the front screen door slamming shut.
“Augh!” she screeched, and jerked her gaze to Michael, who had instantly rolled to his side to see her. “What in the hell, Raney? Who is this guy, and why did you sleep with his wife, you idiot, and now what are you going to do about us getting killed?” she shrieked in a whisper.
“All good questions,” Michael said, and rolled to his back and managed, through sheer strength alone, to sit up. But he looked a little dazed.
“God, are you going to be all right?” she asked, her anger sliding into genuine concern.
He winced, tried to smile. “I’ll be fine.” He took a deep breath and then managed to gain his feet. “What are you doing?” Leah asked frantically, and leaned back as far as her neck would crane, trying to see into the next room, which of course she could not do. “What if he comes back?”
“I am going to squat down behind you and try to loosen the knot. When you get free, untie me.”
“And then what?”
Michael shook his head as if to clear it, then took a tentative step, testing himself. “Damn . . . he clocked me good,” he said, seemingly impressed.
“Michael, what do we do when we get untied?”
“Let’s just get untied first. We’ll think of something then.”
That did not seem like the best of plans to Leah, especially for Mr. CIA. “But we might be dead by then.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, hobbling toward her. “I have been trained for situations like this.”
“You know, I don’t find that terribly comforting at the moment,” Leah shot back, as she tried to scoot the chair around to meet him. “When you told me you were CIA and pushed a lot of paper around, I had this image of you running an office somewhere, not actually taking on bad guys.”
“It wasn’t all paperwork. There was some fieldwork involved.”
“Apparently,” she said, frowning at him over her shoulder. “Fieldwork involving some guy’s wife, it would seem. Just curious here—how many other guys are there out there holding a major grudge like this one?” she asked as Michael started to slide down behind her.
“Is that what he told you?”
“Yes,” she cried, and felt the tips of his fingers on hers and turned as far as she could to look over her shoulder.
“It’s a little more involved than that,” he said. He was squatting, holding himself up with the strength of his thighs as he fumbled with the knot at her back.
“I’m serious, Michael. What else do I not know?” Leah asked. “What else is out there?”
“Leah, baby,” he said with a sigh, “Do you really think now is the time to have this conversation? I kinda need to concentrate here, and it’s not exactly easy with the knot I have on the back of my head.”
“I thought you were trained for situations like this.”
“I am.”