Reckless Read Online Free

identify them. He
walked her right up to a bookcase at the far end of the room and he
reached up and did something to one of its volumes.
    Suddenly the entire bookcase swung inward
like a door. She felt her eyes widen in fear. Gangsters and hit men
she could deal with. Not secret passages in creepy old houses,
though. No way. She braced her feet and resisted, but he pulled her
hard and she stumbled through into total blackness. The bookcase
door closed.
    What the hell was this? Was she in some
cobwebbed and rat-infested partition between the walls? Was he
going to entomb her here and leave her to die where no one could
hear her screams? God, this was like something Poe might have
written.
    He dropped her hands and moved away from her,
and she shot forward, simultaneously ripping the tape from her
mouth, regardless of the sting. She grabbed for his arm, and when
she touched it with her groping hand, she clung. “Don't leave me in
here. You can't—”
    She stopped when she heard a soft click and
the room was flooded with light. Releasing his arm, she looked
around. This was a compact living room. A brown small camelback
sofa and a couple of armchairs were arranged on plush carpet a
shade lighter. A giant TV was mounted to one wall. Off to her
right, there was a tiny kitchenette. To her left was an open door,
beyond which she saw a king-size bed, neatly made.
    She heard his deep sigh when he crossed to
the sofa, apparently no longer concerned about her getting away. He
sat down as if exhausted and leaned his head back. His hair was no
longer combed down gangster style. The rain, combined with
wrestling her so many times in the past hour, had it curling over
his forehead as crazily as her own. It was dark as sable and still
damp.
    She studied him, her fear nearly drowned out
by her boundless curiosity. It had always been her biggest flaw. So
her father used to tell her.
    She looked at the man again. Her kidnapper.
“What kind of a setup is this?”
    “What's your name?” he asked as if he hadn't
heard her question.
    She hugged herself as a full-body shudder
raced through her, hesitating over the question. If he knew who she
was, he'd change his mind about keeping her alive in a hurry.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to tell him her real name.
    “Antonia Veronica Rosa del Rio.” She
pronounced it with a perfect accent. As far as recognition went,
she knew there would be none. It was a far cry from her pseudonym,
Toni Rio.
    His stern expression changed. He seemed
amused. The hard lines in his face eased, and his lips curved
upward at the corners. “I guess I don't need to ask if you're
making it up.” He tipped his head back and regarded the ceiling.
“Antonia Veronica Rosa del Rio,” he mused. “What do your friends
call you?”
    “Irrelevant, since you're no friend of
mine.”
    His head came down and he fixed her to the
spot with deep brown eyes. In this light she could see the lighter
stripes surrounding his pupils. “Glad you realize it, Antonia.” He
watched her for a minute longer. “You're shivering,” he said at
length, then nodded toward the bedroom door. “Bathroom's through
there. I'd suggest a hot bath and some sleep. You can use one of my
robes for now.”
    “ ¡Que cara!”
    His brows went up. “Problemo?” he
asked.
    “I'd sooner stay wet.” She was shaking harder
now, and it wasn't entirely from the cold. He was big. Not big like
some guys were big; this guy was body builder big. When he started
talking about baths and sleeping and her wearing his robe...well,
maybe she was a little more afraid of him than she'd thought. After
all, they were alone here. They were isolated, cut off from the
world.
    He stood slowly and came closer until he
towered over her, making her feel as small as a child. Her pride
wouldn't let her back away. Her gaze stayed on the knot of his
loosened tie. Her lungs slowly filled with his scent and that of
the rain on his body.
    “Look at me, Antonia.”
    She did. She didn't like