Thieves' Honor Part 2 (#serial #suspense #erotic)

Here's Part 2. Remember, I'll give you a quiz on Saturday!

The mockery in his voice inflamed me. I grabbed a pillar and hung on. No one around us even looked twice; New Yorkers have seen it all. "You'll have to drag me out of here. And if you try, I'll scream."

"I'm sure that the police would respond with their usual promptness. Is that what you want?"

"At this point, it's your word against mine. You're the one who has me in handcuffs. I'll tell them you're trying to kidnap me!"

"Listen, Blaine. I have lots of evidence of your prowess that I am sure the police would find fascinating. Photographs. Videos. I told you, I've been studying you. Meanwhile, all I want is the chance to talk with you, in private, about a business opportunity that could be profitable to us both. To make you a proposition."

Yeah? The come-on in the subway was hardly businesslike. But I relaxed slightly.

"If you want to consult me on a professional basis, then why the cuffs?"

"Well, to be honest, I don't completely trust you." A lecherous grin lit up his rough features. "But mostly, I thought that it might turn you on."

"You know nothing about what turns me on," I told him, trying to put ice into my voice. But I remembered his touch, his words. I knew that he was right, that thieving gave me a thrill that was close to sexual.

"Let's go. I promise I won't molest you. I'll serve you a fine dinner and then we can discuss my little – project."

"Well, it seems as though I don't have much choice." I followed him up the stairs to the street.

We walked three blocks, my right hand linked by steel to his left. He stopped at a silver Mercedes sedan parked by the curb. I heard a chirp as he turned off the alarm.

He opened the back door for me, then gestured for me to be seated. Awkward in the handcuffs, I stumbled into the vehicle. He leaned in, rummaged in his pocket and held up a key.

"If I release you, do you promise not to run away?"

I sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I promise."

"Thieves' honor?"

"What the hell is that? Yes, whatever. I give you my word."

In a flash I was free. I rubbed my aching wrist. He was about to close the door, then paused as if some thought had struck him.

"Give me your panties."

"What?"

"You heard me. Off with them."

"You said you weren't going to molest me."

"Am I touching you? Don't make me angry, Blaine. Do it."

I don't know why I obeyed him, but I did. Raising my skirt as little as possible, I slipped the bikinis over my hips and down to my ankles. They were more than a bit damp. Dangling them from one finger, I held them out to him.

"Here you are, sir." My sarcasm did not seem to affect him at all. He lifted the crumpled piece of silk to his nose and inhaled deeply. Despite myself, I blushed. Then he stuffed the panties in his suit jacket pocket.

He made no further comment as he closed the car door and climbed into the driver's seat. The door locks clicked as they slid into place. Dusk was falling, and the rear windows were tinted. I could see very little of our surroundings as he turned right and headed cross-town, but soon the lights twinkling across the river told me we were on the FDR. He took the Tri-Borough Bridge, then headed north on I95. Partly from the route, partly from the plush vehicle, I figured that he was aiming for somewhere in Westchester.

My captor drove silently, intent upon the road. I took advantage of his preoccupation to observe him more closely. He was powerfully built, his shoulders seeming too broad for his moderate height. He wore his hair a bit long. A few curls actually brushed the back of his shirt collar. From the back seat, I couldn't really see his face, but his prominent nose and jutting chin gave him a hawkish profile.

Not a handsome man, but striking, I thought. He conveyed a sense of power, a self-confidence that bordered on arrogance. All at once, I wanted to hear him speak again.

Continued tomorrow!