“No?” he challenged, staring down at her, looking every bit the renegade she’d found him to be, his eyes half-veiled, long strands of raven hair falling from the tie at his nape, framing his perfectly carved, handsome face. “Because I’m pretty sure I can find a way to be intimidating if I need to be. Maybe, considering the games you’ve been playing, you should be far more afraid than you appear to be.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Blake. And I’m not afraid of your spanking me or handcuffing me for that matter.”

“Maybe you like those things a little too much.”

“Maybe you just want me to like them.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice both a soft caress and a rasp of sandpaper, “I do.”

Kara’s nipples tightened and the air crackled with sexual tension. Was she seducing him or was he seducing her? Wait. Was she trying to seduce him? No. She wasn’t. That was dangerous, and yet somehow her eyes went to his mouth, that seductive, punishing, pleasing mouth. Dangerous didn’t seem to matter anymore. All she could think about was how much she wanted that mouth on her body, how good it would feel. How good he would feel. She was pretty sure she’d thought these things were all bad ideas a few minutes ago but she couldn’t remember why.

“There’s a whole lot more than me to fear, Kara.”

Her gaze jerked to his and reality slammed back into her. If he only knew just how true those words were, and suddenly she was angry with him for his involvement in all of this and for making her actually want to believe he could be saved. “Maybe it’s you who should be afraid of me.”

His mouth curved in a sardonic smile before he grabbed her vanity chair from beside her changing panel, and sat it and then himself, directly in front of her. “Why don’t you tell me why that would be, Kara? Enlighten me.”

Her anger deflated instantly. Oh, crap. Something in his tone had her doing a double take. Did he know the truth about her? “Because,” Kara said, driving forward with her intended point, albeit missing the bite of anger she’d been embracing previously, “I see too much. I know there’s more to you than what you’re doing for Mendez. Or maybe there was and there isn’t any longer. How else can you work for a man like Mendez? He’s selling women to the highest bidder and you’re supporting that indirectly.”

“I’m no more a part of the cartel than you are, sweetheart.”

“Wrong answer,” she bit out angrily, using his own words. “No one takes the money of these kinds of people without justifying what they’re supporting.”