Fever by Joan Swan Read Free Book Online

broke his stride. And his body heat had ramped up again.
    Creek was still muttering as he kicked in the bathroom door. The bang made Alyssa flinch. Taz’s full-bellied laugh followed them until Creek slammed the door shut.
    Alyssa’s feet hit the cement floor so hard her teeth knocked together. Pain ricocheted through her jaw. Creek let her go with a partial shove. She stumbled backwards and hit a wall. The scent of stale urine swamped her lungs. She pressed her hands against the tile to gain her balance, and waited a beat to catch her breath. When she was steady, Alyssa used both hands to comb the hair out of her face and look around.
    The fading evening light dribbled in from a single window over the door. The chipped tile floor was stained brown around the toilet. Graffiti painted the walls.
    With his handsome face focused into a piercing glare, Creek tossed the brown bag at her. “Use the bathroom and change your clothes. And if you even think about arguing with me, think again .”
    “You leave, and I’ll change.”
    “No. You’ll change right here, right now.”
    He pulled something from the pocket of his jeans and took two giant steps toward her. Alyssa scuttled backwards until her back was pressed up against the tile again. Creek flexed and curled his fingers, then rubbed both palms down his thighs, as if preparing himself for some drastic feat. Before she could find more words, Creek grabbed the chain binding her hands, pushed back the wadded scrubs and shoved a key into the cuff lock.
    “And don’t worry,” he said without lifting his eyes from his work, “I’m not the least bit interested in looking at you, or ... anything else, either. Just take care of your business so we can get back on the road.”
    So the fleeting attraction she felt when he touched her didn’t go both ways. Even a criminal who’d been incarcerated didn’t want to look at her. She was strangely offended, which only confirmed her earlier conclusion that she was also seriously screwed up.
    When he retreated, Alyssa looked down at the one cuff still clasped around her arm, the other closed and dangling. “Can’t you take them off?”
    “No.”
    “Can’t you even give me some privacy to pee?”
    “No.”
    She jerked her scrub top over her hands and balled it up. All she wanted to do was put the flimsy fabric back on and cover herself. Instead, she not only had to change in his company, she had to pee in his company, too. After so many years in medicine, after all she’d seen and done, she shouldn’t care. But she did. And if her bladder weren’t ready to burst, she’d hold it.
    She untied her scrubs and slid them over her hips, as little as possible to get the job done. She covered her face with her hands, resting her head as much as hiding her embarrassment. Fresh red welts encircled her wrists. Allergy. Had to be.
    “Where are we going?” Her question came out muffled.
    “Don’t ask questions. Just do what I tell you.”
    When she’d finished, Alyssa pulled the clothes out of the bag—a pair of dark, low-riding, boot-cut jeans and a white spandex top with a deep, lace-trimmed vee neckline. In the very bottom of the bag, she found a pair of strappy, black, three-inch, ice pick heels.
    Nothing would fit her. The pants were too long and a size too big. The shirt’s cleavage would reach her navel and the sleeves would hang to her knees. She could fit two of her feet into one of the heels. A strange sense of wrongness edged in. For the first time she realized they’d planned to take someone. To take a woman. To keep her for some time if they’d thought to get her a change of clothes.
    Panic resurfaced. Alyssa’s gaze fastened on Creek where he paced the length of the bathroom like a caged animal. He had been serious about not wanting to look at her, because he hadn’t so much as flicked his eyes her way.
    “Look ...” She paused, trying to get her words together. “I have a brother. He’s the best criminal