A Wicked Seduction Read Online Free PDF Page B

rights?” he demanded. The handcuffs behind him clanked together as his arms and shoulders flexed from their unnatural position. The corded muscles in his biceps bulged, drawing her gaze as they strained against the short sleeves of his knit shirt.
    Impressive muscles she’d be a fool to underestimate—no matter how much they, or the man, fascinated her.
    â€œI have to have some kind of rights,” he reiterated when she didn’t immediately answer him. “A phone call to my attorney, at the very least, to sort out this misunderstanding?”
    She shook her head, which helped to gain her bearings and remove her traitorous gaze from his physique. “You forfeited all your rights when you jumped bail. You can call your attorney, or anyone else you want, when you’re back in jail.”
    Exasperation clenched his jaw and radiated off him in waves. “I want to see that information you claim to have on me,” he said abruptly, just as she reachedfor the gear shift to put the vehicle in Drive. “Is that within my rights?”
    He sounded so indignant, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. She recognized his appeal for the stall tactic it was, but decided to grant him this one small concession which would only take a few minutes out of her time. Besides, in her experience, she’d always found that being faced with irrefutable facts had a way of making a person much more accommodating, and much less argumentative.
    And there was no refuting the incriminating evidence she had on Dean Colter.
    â€œI’d be happy to show you the information.” Smiling sweetly, she withdrew the pocket folder she’d tucked between her seat and the console, then pulled out the file nestled within containing all the pertinent reports, releases and documents she had on him.
    â€œYou could have killed me with that shotgun you were carrying, you know,” he said, his tone rough with censure.
    â€œWhat?” His abrupt change of topic threw her off-kilter, and she looked up from sorting through the papers to find his expression disapproving, and his full lips thinned into a flattened line. Then it dawned on her what he was referring to. “Oh, that wasn’t a shotgun. Not a real one, anyway.”
    He gaped at her. “You go around confronting people with a toy gun?”
    Her stomach clenched, and her hands grew cold and clammy as unexpected memories swamped her…of a pistol trembling in her hands, her franticshouts to the perp she’d cornered to drop his gun, and ultimately her inability to follow through with the threat he’d posed, to her and her partner. Then two simultaneous gunshots—one the perp’s, the other Brian’s.
    She winced at the awful recollection, which still remained so sharp and fresh in her mind—as if the life-altering incident had happened yesterday instead of two years ago. The revolver holstered at her side felt like a two-ton weight, reminding her of failures, disappointments and the heart-wrenching burden she’d have to live with forever.
    Yes, she carried a real gun with her, but she wouldn’t draw it unless she absolutely had to. Because now she knew if she drew her weapon, she’d put herself in the position of having to fire the gun. And she doubted her ability to do so, more than she feared protecting herself with less deadly forces.
    She swallowed to ease the tightness closing up her throat. “It’s a beanbag shotgun,” she replied, her voice still tight from those grim memories of the past. At his questioning stare, she explained. “It would have brought you to an immediate halt, possibly knocked you on your ass, and no doubt have given you a nasty bruise, but you would have lived.”
    â€œI’m so relieved,” he drawled sarcastically.
    She shrugged. “You’re certainly no good to me dead,” she said, adopting a flippant attitude.
    A huff of