Hot for Hostage

by Maggie Evans

I hadn’t expected the gun approach to work this well. Maybe I’d use it more often. “And

Even if he had just terminated our fresh crime-fighting partnership

Well, my rescue plan had officially gotten out of hand.

but we don’t kink shame in this guide.

I knew I was in trouble. Because I didn’t just want my little hostage-taker to stick around until this mess with the Skulls was cleaned up. I wanted her to stay for good.

And for the record, you can lay me out on a counter and do that again whenever you want.” His smirk widened. “Be careful making promises you don’t intend to keep.” “Oh, no. I fully mean that.” I

There may come a time when you want to leave the hostage lifestyle. If that’s the case, don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not for everyone.

Or maybe it was time to bring telegrams back into fashion.

silently apologizing to my poor butt.

Today would go down in history as the day Davian Reed—infamous heir to Westport’s underground—died of blue balls.

Vince stared at the note like he couldn’t believe it was real before answering through a clenched jaw. “That girl is surprisingly duplicitous.”

“Oh my god. I almost slept with a criminal!” “Almost?” she asked sharply. “You mean you didn’t sleep with him?” “Not exactly. We got interrupted.”

“Whisked?” “Yeah, whisked. Like… Like we’re a bowl of egg whites trying to be meringue, you know?” No, apparently, I didn’t know. Sadie sighed quietly. “It’s a lovely thought, but we’re not egg whites, Dav. And we’ll never be meringue.”

“You couldn’t have mentioned the donation before I gave Davian a lecture on meringue and reverse Stockholm syndrome?” “To be fair, no one saw that lecture coming,”

Tip #29: Remember that tip about self-defense lessons? Yeah, get enrolled now, because the moment you realize you need them, it’ll be too late…

But there wasn’t time for ribbing him, even if he did have shockingly petite feet.

Being Taken Hostage (Again), Tip #30: Avoid being taken hostage yourself at all costs. (I can’t seem to master this one yet.)

“I’m making sure you’re not wired, you moron,” Zain grumbled, acting like I was the one pushing the boundaries of acceptable hostage-situation behavior.

“Hey. Buddy.” I snapped my fingers at Zain, grateful to have at least that much movement with my wrists tied. “This is getting weird. Let’s all just keep the rest of our clothes on, okay? You can play your little fetish games later⁠—”

She was staring straight at the camera and blinking like a maniac. A flurry of quick blinks. Then five slow. More quick ones. My brows pulled together in a frown. I couldn’t tell if she was having a seizure or trying to blink back tears, and I had to stop myself from asking her if she was all right.

I was done playing games with kids who didn’t even belong at the table.

The moment you pointed that gun at my chest, you became mine. That isn’t something you can just run away from.”

As long as we have his ho, he can’t touch us.” It took me a moment to realize he was referring to me, and I blinked. I’d never been called someone’s ho before. Not really a fan.

“But what if we get ambushed?” She let go of my hand to tuck a strand of pink hair behind her ear and wiggled the large cleaning tool at me for emphasis. “I can’t whack them with my broom if I don’t have a broom.” It was difficult to argue with that logic.

“I don’t think I’ll do well in jail, Dav. They use cigarettes as currency in the movies, and my school had a police officer come talk to us about how bad drugs are. He made all the fifth-graders sign little cards promising we’d never even touch them. Plus, I’ve never made a shiv before. I don’t know how. Although, I once made a spatula out of recycled⁠—”

Tip #35: There doesn’t seem to be a limit to how many times one can be taken hostage.

Oops. At least one of us hadn’t forgotten about Walter Jr.

It was a confusing time for my reputation.