"Fine," she said. "I'll be good."
Christopher narrowed his eyes at her. He'd heard that tone before, the kind that came out smooth and agreeable right before someone put a knife in your ribs. He wasn't buying it.
"Wait a minute." He glanced sideways. "Rebecca, tie up her wrists."
"What?" Lucy's glare could've stripped paint off a wall.
"Again?" Rebecca blinked at him, visibly confused.
"Just tie them at the front, she won't need her arms for what she's gotta do," he said, keeping his voice even and his eyes locked on Lucy like she was a grenade with a loose pin. "Or are you telling me a grown-ass woman and a marine can't squat behind a bush without full use of her hands?"
He got nothing back but a cold, flat stare that could've frozen the air between them.
Rebecca hesitated, shifting her weight. "Is that even necessary?"
Christopher let out a slow breath through his nose. The kind of sigh that carried a whole conversation in it.
"And you wonder why we treat you like a kid."
