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pummeling her brain like a punch-drunk miner. A quick, hard shake from Nick did little to help, nor did the potent curse he uttered when she lost her balance and fell against him.
    A strong arm clamped around her back, giving her the opportunity to find her footing. Unable to do anything else, she rested her aching head against his hard chest and closed her eyes. Weariness dragged at her as the shock and fear from the past few days drained away. She trembled in his embrace and hated her weakness.
    Nick Rayven had a reputation as a dangerous man to cross, but her careful inquiries had also shown him to be fair and well respected. She was betting her life on it. He was her best shot at getting out of the mess she’d found herself in. That is, if she could persuade him he needed to help her. A big if at the moment. Gathering herself, she straightened and pulled away.
    It wasn’t easy meeting his eyes. Somewhere in her mind it registered they were brown, but there was no warmth in their depths. Intense, missing nothing, his sharp regard made her squirm. When he pulled a knife from his boot, her luck might have just run out.
    She opened her mouth to scream. Nothing came out but a mewling squeak. She jerked in his hold, but he tightened his grip until her shoulder felt as if it was being crushed. Heart racing, barely able to breathe through the panic constricting her throat, she shut her eyes and waited for the end. Awareness narrowed to a pinprick concentrated on the man in front of her. He stepped closer and she was surrounded by the heat of his body, heard his inhale and felt the brush of displaced air when his arm moved. She gulped a breath, drew in the taste of her own fear.
    Time slowed and stretched each second into a lifetime. Nothing happened.
    She peeked from one eye, wondering if her cowering posture had stopped him. “What are you waiting for? Go ahead and kill me. It isn’t as if you’re the only one trying.”
    “You aren’t worth killing, little girl.” Contempt spiked his voice and she cringed. “But if that was my intent, I wouldn’t use a knife. I’d have to clean up the mess and that would just piss me off. If you want your hands free, it’s faster to cut the ties.” He shifted his grip on the knife and slashed the bindings around her wrists.
    Her numb arms flopped to her sides and she sucked in a breath. Why was she still alive? Pathetically grateful, she turned, took a wobbling step and swayed.
    “Now then. Who the hell are you?” Nick barked.
    “Tru. Tru Creighton.” Feeling began to return to her arms and razor-edged needles of agony shot from her shoulders to her fingertips, pulsing with the pounding in her head. She clenched and unclenched her fists, desperate for relief. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked rapidly to prevent them from falling.
    “Okay, Tru Creighton.” Nick enunciated her name as if he doubted she was who she claimed to be. “Why don’t you explain why you followed me and we’ll take it from there. I’m warning you, I’d better like the answers.”
    “No need to be snide. I’ll get to it.” She lifted her chin and scowled in his general direction, not quite daring to meet his eyes before looking away.
    Silence stretched between them while she stalled. Intimidated and trying not to show it, Tru rubbed her wrists. Unable to stop herself, she stole a glance at him, stunned to see something perilously close to a grin and all coherent thought fled. Gathering her scattered wits, she tried again. “I...ah...need your help,” she whispered.
    He raised an eyebrow, his expression mocking.
    Her spirits sank further. “I can pay.”
    Nick crossed his arms over his broad chest and snorted. “You don’t look like you have two credits to rub together to me.”
    Her shoulders slumped. Nothing was going the way she planned. Licking dry lips, she stared into Nick’s hard face. “Please.”
     

 
    Chapter 2
     
    Nick rubbed his jaw and considered his unwanted