Bought His Life by Aleka Nakis Tia Fanning Page A

thought she would die at the hands of some punk kid drug dealer. “Are you going to kill me?”
    “No.”

 
    Chapter Nine
     
     
     
    They turned into the parking lot of the Flaming Flamingo. Instead of parking with the other cars, Lawson proceeded down a small graveled alleyway that led to the back of the motel and an area fenced in on three sides. He maneuvered her Mustang next to a tarp-covered vehicle and turned off the ignition.
    Once he exited and slammed the door, Kimber opened her door and bolted for the parking lot, but he must have expected it, because he snagged her by the arm and dragged her to the motel’s back entrance. She thought about screaming, but who would hear over the party going on in the pool area?
    Once inside the lobby, he threaded his fingers into hers. It was odd to share such an intimate gesture with a guy that had kissed her then kidnapped her. But even odder than the handholding was the fact that after all that had happened, she still liked him. Actually, she really liked him. Lawson’s sudden caveman antics felt right.
    She really had issues, and if she made it through this alive, which she thought she would, she’d go straight to the office shrink and have her head examined. No—not the office shrink. Just a shrink.
    He led her to the doors of the small patio bar. “Smile,” he ordered, letting their joined hands rub against the gun still lodged in his waistband.
    Getting the hint, her lips curved up slightly.
    They were just about to go out when a man in a grass skirt carrying an umbrella drink came in.
    “Lawson! I thought it was you. I’m so glad you made it! And in one piece, too. Wait, are you getting a black eye?”
    Lawson laughed off the question. “Hello, Michiel. I need a room for the night. A private one. Happen to have any left?
    Michiel looked Kimber up and down and grinned broadly. “Believe it or not, I do. I know my motel doesn’t look like much, but I actually have a small honeymoon suite open.”
    “You know I’ll pay you as soon as I—”
    “Yes, yes, I know. I trust you,” Michiel replied, swatting the air with his hand. “Now let me get you that key.”
    They followed Michiel to the desk. Within moments, he handed Lawson a small punch card with the picture of a rainbow on it. “Your room number is seven. Try to stop by the bar later. The celebration will be going on all night.”
    Michiel hurried back toward the party, then turned one last time and gave a knowing wink. “Have fun.”
    “Thanks. I owe you one.”
    Once Michiel was gone, the old asshole Lawson came back. His smile turned to a frown, and he dragged her out of the lobby.
    “What are you going to do with me?” she asked as they headed to the motel room.
    He opened the door and shoved her inside.
    The room looked like an old style brothel. Deep red carpet, classical paintings on gold striped walls, purple velvet curtains and a matching bedspread on a king-sized bed, mirrored ceilings, a small Jacuzzi…
    “Drop your pants.”
    “What?” Kimber turned to see him locking the door.
    “Take your pants off. Now! Or I’ll do so for you.”
    Holy shit. “Why? You going to spank me?”
    “Yes. For your own good. You need this,” he growled. “You have no sense of self-preservation, and a sore behind may be the reminder you need to take care of yourself.”
    Seriously?
    He turned and faced her. Removing the gun from his pants, he leaned against door and stared her down, his gaze unwavering. “Kimber, you will do as I say.”
    She must have lost her mind because she found herself slowly removing her jacket instead of telling the asshole to fuck off and simply walking out the door. It was obvious that his intent wasn’t to cause harm, just to gain control.
    Kimber let the jacket drop beside her, followed by her shoulder holster. Then her hands went to the strings holding up her pants.
    She paused and looked into Lawson’s eyes. She knew she should fight him, defy him, but some depraved