I wake up from what's probably the best sleep I've had in a long time, and yet, something's off.

I glance over at the digital clock on the right and notice its almost noon. I stare up at the ceiling for a moment as I wait for the blissful cloud of sleep to clear from my head and I tense up immediately.

The clock was on my left when I went to bed.

I jerk up quickly and let out a gasp of surprise when I realize my right wrist has been handcuffed to the side of the bed. I struggle to pull myself into the seated position, yanking at the cuffs on my wrist as if it'll somehow loosen them.

I look frantically around the room but can't make out much detail since I don't have my glasses on. The only thing I am able to say for certain is that this is not the room I fell asleep in.

It's bigger, it's brighter and the walls are an entirely different color.

I move so I'm seated on the edge of the bed, and notice my glasses sitting next to the digital clock. Really the only thing I can see somewhat clearly, other than the handcuffs on my wrist is the digital clock.

I slide my glasses onto my face and take a better look around the room.

There's a desk on the far side, a dresser across from the bed I'm which is in the middle of the room, a very colorful rug on the floor, a closet, and another door that probably leads out. There's a large window on one side of the room, which sheer curtains pulled across it, and the walls are a horribly cheery yellow color.

And my backpack is nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, there's the sound of a key being inserted into a lock and the door to the room starts to open. I feel fear start to crawl its way through me, not knowing who's on the other side of the door.

It swings open all the way I find myself letting out a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding as a searing hot anger replaces the fear that was there not long ago.

He stands comfortably in the doorway, his shoulder against it. He's barefoot, a pair of what look to be swimming trunks rest lowly on his hips, an absolutely ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, completely unbuttoned down the front is thrown across his shoulders, showing off his toned and muscled chest, those stupid sunglasses hide his eyes, but there's a rather amused smile splayed across his lips, his hair is tousled in a carefree way, and he's holding half a donut in his hands.

I feel like strangling him.

He just stands there, eating his donut, completely relaxed in the doorway, looking sexy as hell and I want to strangle him even more for it.

It shouldn't be legal for someone to look as good as he does, and I hate him for it. Especially since he knows it too.

I glare at him while he continues to eat his donut.

"Nice hair," He finally says, that stupid smile staying in place.

I feel my face begin to turn red. I don't need a mirror to know my hair looks like a rat's nest. That's how it always looks every time I wake up. And it's totally not fair he looks like he walked out of some modeling catalog while I look some homeless girl picked up off the streets.

I continue to glare at him. "How did you find me?" I ask him, ignoring his previous statement.

He shrugs lazily, finishing off his donut. "I'm just lucky."

"There's no possible way you could have gotten to me that quickly," I tell him.

He shrugs again. "I actually just got here this morning after my flight came in," He says. "I sent my partner to go pick you up the other night before you could try and sneak away again."

"Partner?"

"Special Agent North. You might meet him sometime if I need him to pick you up again."

"How did he get me here?"

"With a car and then some . . . and maybe a sedative or two."

I narrow my eyes at him further and feel my anger flare up even more. I go to try and cross my arms, but the cuff on my wrist stops me. His smile widens.

"Take this off," I order him.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

"Take it off."

"Later. Right now, I'd like some peace and quiet to myself, and if I let you loose the first thing you'll do is try to escape. So, you can hang out here and I'll go finish my donuts. Oh, and I had Agent North relieve you of all your lockpicking stuff, bobby pins included. So, if you do manage to get out of those, color me impressed." He gives me a little wave as he walks from the room. He leaves the door open this time though.

I yell out after him but he completely ignores me. I don't know how long I'm stuck sitting on the bed waiting for him to come back.

Long enough to go through every possible way to kill him and make it look like an accident.

When he finally decides to come back, he's still wearing those stupid shades, and this time he's holding a mug of coffee.

"You know," He starts thoughtfully. "I thought if I walked off and gave you your space for a little bit, you'd have calmed down some." He pauses as he looks me over. "Now I'm thinking the only thing that's going to stop you from going at me is if I shoot you."

He's probably right.

I glare at him and he takes a sip of his coffee. He says nothing else.

"Well?" I question, pointing down at the cuff.

"I'm thinking."

"About what? You said you'd take it off."

"I'm thinking about how much trouble I'd get in when I shoot you."

"Don't you mean if?"

"No. I'm stuck with you for the unforeseeable future, and there's no way I'll be able to go without shooting you. You're a nightmare, and I don't just mean visibly."

If looks could kill. He'd have died before that sentence left his mouth.

He sets his coffee mug on the dresser and walks over to me, handcuff key in hand. He stops before he reaches me.

"If I take this off-"

"When," I correct him but he ignores me and continues talking.

"-you are not allowed to leave the premises. You are not allowed to assault me. You are to check in with me every hour, and you are to actually talk to me about what hell your problem is. Other than the obvious of course."

"I am not going-"

"Then we're done here and the cuff stays on. I'll be back in a half hour to bring you food." He turns and starts to leave.

"Wait," I call out. "I'll . . ." I mumble the rest.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I didn't hear what you said. Could you repeat it?"

I glare at him and his smug smile only gets bigger. "Asshole," I mutter.

"Yeah yeah yeah." He waves me off. "Move on. What was it you were saying?"

"I said I'll cooperate," I growl out.

He walks back over to me and unlocks the cuff. "Now was that so hard?"

I debate how much I desire my freedom because right now I'm seriously considering the consequences of throwing my fist in his face.

I finally decide I value my freedom more than the satisfaction of the bashing his face in . . . for the moment at least.

"Where's my backpack?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Don't know." I narrow my eyes at him. "I had Agent North hide it from you, and I have yet to question where he hid it."

"Well ask him."

"He's on a flight right now."

"So?"

"I'll call him when he lands."

I glare at him and he shrugs nonchalantly. "Where are we?"

"I'm surprised that wasn't your first question." I give him a deadpan look. "We're at an FBI safe house."

"Where?"

"Hawaii."

I pause as I look at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. My dad suggested it since he thought you needed to relax."

I chuck a pillow at him. He dodges it effortlessly.

"How did we get here?"

"Agent North sedated you and then had to get the FBI to schedule a private flight. And then he kept you sedated for the flight. You're easier to deal with when you're out cold. Anyway, it took the better part of a day to get you here."

"This is kidnapping."

"Call the police."

"I don't have a phone."

"Shame." He shrugs. "Also, the doors, windows, and pretty much any other thing you can use to exit this house are wired with alarms and motion sensors. So the minute you try to leave I'll know and I'll drag you back in here and handcuff you to the bed again. Got it?"

I glare at him again and he turns and walks away. "I'll take that as a yes," He calls over his shoulder. "And by the way, there's only one bathroom here, and I have a key to the door. So, if you take too long in a shower or I feel you're trying to escape, I will barge right in with absolutely no regrets."

"You're vile."

He turns to look at me and looks thoughtful for a moment. "That's a new one. No one's ever called me that before." He waves dismissively at me as he walks off down the hall.

"What am I supposed to wear?!" I shout out to him.

"There are clothes in the closet!" He shouts back.

Sure enough, when I make my way to the closet, it's filled with clothes and so is the dresser. Of course, this has to part of a practical joke, because all the clothes are khaki shorts and awful Hawaiian shirts.

"What is this?!" I shout and I hear Ryder laugh from afar.

I study the clothing choices and notice there are also several bikinis, but since I'm not allowed to leave the house, I don't see when I'll need to wear them. They're probably only there for Ryder's amusement anyway.

I grumble a string of curses under my breath and grab a pair of shorts, the least offending Hawaiian shirt, and underwear. I change quickly, not wanting to even know how Ryder knows my clothing sizes, bra included, and grimace at myself in the mirror.

I find a bag of toiletries in the dresser and move to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and run a brush through my hair. I check myself out in the mirror once more before rifling through the bag further. The basic necessities, and no bobby pins.

I curse Ryder out.

I open the door to the bathroom and let out another string of curses, putting my hand over my chest in surprise as Ryder stands there, leaning against the door frame.

"I was debating whether or not I should barge in, just in case you were trying to escape, but then I thought, if you were naked, why would I want to forever scar my eyes like that?"

"Go to hell."

"Only if you come with me carrot top."

And that's when his second condition for letting me out of the handcuffs flew out the window.