"I'm making it clear-trying to anyway-that there's more to life than brawn," she continued. "To clarify, brains last longer and have more impact than the size of one's muscles."

Not in the world he'd been living in for so long he was hard-pressed to remember there was anything more important than physical superiority. For one, strength kept him alive.

He glared. "This isn't a discussion. It's an order. You will run every word past me before you allow it to be published. Got it?"

Her hazel eyes slid into something darker, brown maybe. "I don't got anything."

That was it. It was past time to bring her into line. Not giving a damn how she interpreted his actions, he closed in on her. She didn't back away, but he was aware of how much the effort cost her. Despite the determination she waved like a race starter's flag, she didn't know what to do with him. He'd only rarely come face to face with a woman who believed she could stand her ground around him. Later, maybe, he'd find out why Shea did.

But not today. Not now.

"Follow me." He pointed at the door to the mansion's basement.

She didn't move. "Where does it lead to?"

"You'll find out once we're there."

"The hell I will." She held up the Jeep keys. "I'm out of here."

"The gate won't open unless I trigger it."

You have that kind of control? Her expression said.

"Now."

"No, not now."

He had her. She didn't know it yet, but he'd wrapped invisible and practiced ropes around her. The next moves-there'd be a lot of them-were his to make.

Cursing, he grabbed her around her slender waist and hoisted her off her feet. When she kicked and pummeled him, he tossed her over his shoulder. Holding her in place with one hand, he keyed in the numbers to unlock the basement door. It swung open, and he stepped into darkness. She tensed even more but stopped struggling.

No doubt she wanted to take in their surroundings. Unfortunately for her, the lights were off. He'd been in here enough times that he knew where everything, including the cage, was located. Shifting his hold so she stood no chance of breaking free, he closed out the world.

"We're going down."

"Down where?"

There it was. The uncertainty he'd been waiting for. Her small, warm hands slid over his back as she tried to brace herself so she could lift her head.

"Be patient. You'll understand soon enough."

"You've kidnapped-"

"Don't use that word!"

"It's the-"

"There's a hell of a lot of difference between what's going to take place here and what Paige endured."

"Is that what this is about? You think you need to protect her from me? That's the last thing I'd-"

"I'm not interested in excuses. She's about to fall apart. It's my responsibility to make sure that doesn't happen."

Shea sucked in several deep breaths but didn't speak. Neither did she try to escape, not that she stood a chance. He understood the drive to protect traumatized women-did he ever! But until today danger had come from men without moral codes, not a member of the same sex.

It didn't matter.

Not sure how much he intended to explain to Shea, he descended the dark stairs. To her credit, she didn't struggle. Every step resonated with him, yet another few feet into the space he saw as necessary. He no longer asked himself whether it needed to be like that.

When he reached the bottom, he entered the cage at the far end of the unlit room and stood Shea on her feet. He stepped back. She remained where he'd planted her. Unlike him, she knew nothing about her shadowed surroundings. This was far from his first time in the training space.

Leaving her, he exited the small enclosure, closed the barred door behind him, and made his way to the light switch. Instead of bathing the space in illumination, he leaned against the wall. Shea Beck was a barely discernable outline, vulnerable. He'd teach her not to use the power of the written word without acknowledging the consequences if the wrong ones slipped in. Like certain names.

"What made you decide to go looking for Paige and the others?" he asked. "Of all the topics you could write about, why did you choose this one?"

"It's human interest." She sucked in a less-than-steady breath. "Everyone was hoping and praying that the missing women would show up alive and well. Plus..."

"Go on." He hated it when people danced around the outskirts of honesty. By damn he wouldn't let the journalist get away with it.

"All right." She sounded resigned. He imagined her fingering the cage's bars while fighting fear. "I-I needed assurance that they'd survive not just physically but emotionally. I had no doubt I wasn't the only one who felt the same way."

He could buy her explanation but it didn't go far enough. Curiosity made the decision as he switched on the light. She blinked repeatedly.

"What if the captives can't give you what you're after?" Her stance put him in mind of a trapped animal. The image stirred something primal in him.

He wanted her like this, his.

"What are you talking about?" She brushed her fingertips over the bars.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm getting at."

She paced. She seemed determined to memorize the parameters of her new world. Most women would either rail at him to let them out or panic. She did neither of those things. Neither did she demand an explanation. Maybe being trapped intrigued her.

"You're Paige's defender." She spoke softly. "Is that the kind of thing Mr. Aldrich pays you to do?"

They were in a large underground room with a cage that took up about half of the space. The enclosure was equipped with a single bed, toilet, and sink. Chains complete with leather cuffs had been welded to the bed's head and footboards. Everything had been designed for restraint and visual impact. Other items of control were part of the cage's so-called walls. There was almost no end to the ways someone could be forced into an existence dictated by another person's wishes and whims. By their needs if it came to that.

"I call my own shots," he said.

"But Mr. Aldrich-he designed this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No." Her voice was high and thin. "If this is part of some game..."

"It isn't."