Chapter 3 Tied Up in Trouble

Pierce woke up to pain.

Sharp, burning pain in his side that felt like someone was twisting a hot knife between his ribs. He groaned, trying to move, and that's when he realized something was very wrong.

His hands wouldn't budge.

His eyes snapped open. He was in an unfamiliar white ceiling, with a crack running through the corner. Soft morning light coming through curtains. The smell of coffee and something floral….lavender maybe.

Where the hell was he?

He tried to sit up and felt immediate resistance. His wrists were bound behind him, secured to something solid and immovable.

What the,...

Pierce twisted to look over his shoulder, and what he saw made him freeze completely.

He was tied to a radiator, with bras.

He blinked, and stared harder. No, those were definitely bras. Three of them, purple and black sports bras, knotted together and looped through the radiator pipes, holding his wrists firmly in place.

Someone had actually tied him up with lingerie.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh good, you're awake."

The voice came from across the room. It was calm, casual, and completely unbothered.

His head snapped toward the sound.

She was sitting on the couch in a cream-colored silk nightrobe, her legs tucked under her, holding a cup of coffee like this was a perfectly normal morning. The woman from last night whose car he'd hijacked.

"What the hell is this?" Pierce demanded, pulling at the bras. They held firm. Surprisingly, annoyingly firm.

"That," she said, taking a slow sip of her coffee, "is what you get for threatening me with a gun. I'm just safeguarding my life."

She said it so matter-of-factly, like tying up armed criminals with her underwear was something she did every Tuesday.

He stared at her, and she stared back, completely calm, those grey eyes watching him with what looked like mild curiosity.

The sheer audacity.

"You tied me up," he said slowly.

"I did."

"With your bras."

"Yep. Sports bras. They're very sturdy, and good quality." She shrugged one shoulder. "Fifty bucks each, actually. You should feel honored."

"You're insane."

"Says the man who forced his way into a stranger's car with a gunshot wound."

She had a point, but he wasn't about to admit it.

Pierce pulled at the restraints again, harder this time. The fabric stretched slightly but the knots didn't give. Whoever tied these knew what they were doing. Or she'd gotten extremely lucky.

"Let me go," he said, dropping his voice into the tone he used when giving orders. The one that made his men jump to attention.

She didn't even flinch.

"Nope."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no." Another sip of coffee. "Not until I'm absolutely sure you won't kill me the second I untie you."

"I'm not going to kill you."

"Mm-hmm. That's exactly what someone planning to kill me would say."

He couldn't really argue with that logic.

Pierce took a breath, forcing himself to calm down and assess the situation. He looked around the apartment properly now. It was small but well-maintained and cean. Plants on the windowsill that actually looked healthy. Bookshelves packed with medical textbooks. Framed photos on the wall, her with another woman, both laughing.

Nice neighborhood, with a good furniture. She clearly had her life together.

And now he'd dragged her straight into his nightmare.

His eyes moved back to her. Without the panic from last night, he could actually see her clearly. She was pretty—really pretty, actually. Doll-like features, grey eyes that missed nothing, short chestnut hair with bangs that framed her face. The nightrobe was tied loosely at her waist, and he forced himself to look away.

She was also completely fearless, which was either very brave or very stupid.

"You're out of your mind," he said.

"You already said that. And you're the one who got shot and hijacked a random car, so maybe don't throw stones."

"Fair point."

She stood up then, setting her coffee down, and walked toward him. He tensed automatically, every instinct telling him to be ready, but she just knelt down beside him with a medical kit.

"I need to check your wound," she said, all business now.

"I'm fine."

"You were shot. You're the opposite of fine." She started carefully peeling back the bandage. "Hold still."

He watched her work, noting the professional way she examined the stitches, the gentle but efficient movements of her hands. Up close, he could see the faint freckles across her nose, and the exhaustion in her eyes.

"You're a doctor," he said as a statement, not a question.

She glanced up at him briefly, then back at the wound. She didn't answer.

"That's how you knew what to do. The stitches, the bandaging. You're a doctor."

Still nothing.

"Are you going to answer me, or…"

"Are you going to stop asking stupid questions?"

His jaw tightened. If his men could see him now—Pierce Diego, one of the most feared men in Chicago, tied up with sports bras and being lectured by a woman in a bathrobe.

He'd have to kill every single one of them to protect his reputation.

"This is humiliating," he muttered.

"Good." She applied fresh bandaging, her touch surprisingly gentle despite her words. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before hijacking someone's car at gunpoint."

"There won't be a next time."

"Sure there won't."

She finished with the bandage and sat back on her heels, studying him with those intelligent grey eyes. He could see her thinking, calculating, and trying to figure him out.

"So what now?" he asked. "You planning to keep me here forever?"

"Just until I figure out what to do with you."

"You could let me go."

"I could." She stood up, brushing off her knees. "But I won't. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you."

"Smart."

She smiled slightly at that. Actually smiled. "I know I am."

She walked back toward the kitchen, and he heard her moving around. The orange cat—Darrel, according to the tag on his collar, hopped off the armchair and padded over, sniffing Pierce's leg before headbutting him affectionately.

"Your cat likes me," Pierce called out.

"Darrel has terrible judgment," she called back.

Despite everything, the pain, the restraints, and the complete absurdity of this situation, he almost smiled.

She reappeared a few minutes later dressed in scrubs covered with little cartoon pills. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun. She looked professional, and put-together, like she hadn't spent the night treating gunshot wounds and tying up criminals.

"Where are you going?" he asked, though he already knew.

"Work."

"You're leaving me here? Like this?"

"Yep." She grabbed her bag, checking for her keys.

"You can't be serious. Look, you better not be planning to leave me here.”

"I'm very serious. Unlike you, I have a LEGAL job. I have patients who actually need me. I can't exactly call in sick because I have a criminal tied to my radiator."

“Untie me or else..” 

“Or else what?” She shot him glazing eyes.

“I'll make you regret doing this” she scuffed at his words. 

“Says the guy I saved from death. Humans are so ungrateful” 

“I can't believe I'm having a back and forth with a woman” He bit his inner cheeks in anger.

“I can't believe I have a criminal tire on my radiator in my very quality sports bra”

"Let me go," he said again, pulling at the bras. "I won't hurt you. I'll leave. You'll never see me again."

She walked over and crouched down so they were eye level. For a moment, he thought she might actually consider it.

Then she smiled, sweet and innocent and absolutely infuriating.

"No," she said simply.

"This is…"

"Be good while I'm gone," she interrupted, patting his shoulder like he was a misbehaving pet. "Don't break anything. Don't scare my cats. And definitely don't bleed on my carpet again. That's a pain to clean."

"You can't just leave me here!"

"Watch me."

She stood and headed for the door.

"Wait…."

"There's water on the coffee table if you get thirsty. Darrel will keep you company. Try not to die while I'm gone. That would be really inconvenient for both of us." 

"Elena…." He called out, as he saw her name tag 

The door opened.

“I dare you to leave me”

"Bye Angelo!" she called cheerfully, using the fake name he'd given her last night in a moment of delirium.

"Don't you dare…"

The door slammed shut, and the lock clicked.

Pierce stared at the closed door, breathing hard, anger and disbelief flooding through him in equal measure.

She'd actually left him, tied up with her sports bras while she went to work like everything was completely normal.

"Are you KIDDING me?!" he shouted at the door.

No answer. Just the sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway.

Pierce dropped his head back against the radiator with a groan.

This was officially the most humiliating moment of his entire life.

Darrel meowed and rubbed against his leg, purring like this was all perfectly fine.

"If I wasn't tied up, I'd have shaved your first to relieve myself of this anger”. 

The cat purrs, and ran away.