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yanked her up to her feet. ‘You haven’t spent much time around people, have you?’
    She shouldn’t sass the man who held her captive , but it didn’t matter because just as he’d ignored her questions, he ignored her statement. Rushe retrieved a dark red and black flannel shirt, which he threw at her.
    ‘Put that on.’
    Her extremities were still tingling with the cramp he’d warned her of, but she managed to catch the items. ‘I...’
    ‘Take off the dress,’ he said , dropping onto the bed to unlace his boots.
    ‘What? But you... you said—‘
    ‘Take it off,’ he said, kicking his boots off.
    When he stood up he turned his back on her , and it took Flick a moment to realise that he was giving her privacy, he respected her modesty.
    Not wanting to miss the window she unzipped her dress and let it drop while stuffing her arms into the soft material of his shirt.
    It smelled clean, and masculine, something in it gave her refuge. The sleeves hung down well past her hands and the length reached her knees. Despite not wearing underwear, this garment actually gave her more cover than her own clothes had.
    At the same time she bent to pick up her dress he turned and snatched it away from her. His reason for doing so was no clearer to her when he ripped the silk, then flung it aside.
    ‘Why did you...?’
    ‘Do you want to have sex?’
    ‘No!’
    ‘Then you weren’t going to strip down willingly for me.’
    Tearing the dress as he would have to if he was going to force himself on her. ‘You want them to think... why would you want them to think that you’re a rapist?’
    ‘Street cred,’ he grumbled and whipped off his tee-shirt.
    Flick froze to the floor at the sight of his torso, his broad chest and washboard abs. In all of her experience with men she had never seen such a perfect specimen. Every sinewy inch of him was toned, his muscular stance was lean but powerful, and her temptation to touch, to see if he was real, had her transfixed.
    ‘Get on the bed.’
    ‘What?’ she asked, snapping out of her trance.
    ‘Get on the bed,’ he said , retrieving some twine from a drawer.
    ‘But, I don’t—‘
    ‘There are two other rooms like this one,’ Rushe said. ‘The other guys sleep out there. If you run you’ll meet them on your way out.’
    Grabbing her arm he began to bind her wrist. ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘If you fight against this it will cut you, and you don’t want an open wound out here. Infection’s a certainty,’ he said tying the twine. ‘Come.’
    Using the twine leash now on her wrist Rushe led her to the bed. When he leaned to the far corner Flick fell on the bed, and he tied the other end of the twine to the metal bedpost.
    ‘Why are you binding me?’
    ‘I don’t want to look for you in the woods when you do something stupid. If those guys get hold of you you’re on your own.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Don’t get any false ideas,’ he said. ‘If you become a nuisance they can have at you.’
    ‘Why did you stop them?’
    Rushe gave her a shove toward the far corner , and she scrambled out of the way when he dropped onto the bed. On his side, he turned off the lamp and kept his back to her. Briefly, he punched at the wafer thin pillow, before he folded his arms with a grunt.
    ‘Get some sleep.’
    Flick slithered down onto her side on the bed at his back. She didn’t have much space but keeping herself tucked away, she managed to prevent them from touching. Tears burned her sinus’ again.
    The more that was revealed of her saviour, the more questions she had. Her tears receded as she pondered the perplexity. He’d comforted her, then he’d bound her. He’d given her privacy, then demanded her submission. Rushe was a contradiction in so many ways.
    Flick wondered if he’d let her understand where they were, and what was happening... and what her fate might be. But he hadn’t answered questions, and she doubted that would change.
    Being bound to the metal bedpost w