Prologue Dani A Year Ago... I knew I was going to die. The only question was how long I had to live before the rebel group of terrorists who had kidnapped me would finally execute me. I was hurting so badly that I was grateful when I lost consciousness. I had no idea how long I’d been imprisoned. It seemed like years, like I’d lived in this perpetual state of pain, d eprivation, and humiliation for what seemed like forever. I’d tried to ke ep track of the days passing by, but I’d probably lost a few. How long had I been like this? A week? Two? Had I lost more days than I’d thought? Death would pretty much be a blessing. I’m not sure how much more of their torture I can take. I’m not getting out of here. The US wouldn’t bargain with terrorists, and I’m never going to es cape. Even if I had the opportunity, I don’t have the strength to get away. It’s not that I wanted to die, but there was only so much agony a person could endure before they hoped for some r eprieve, even if it meant they’d only find that relief from death. At least it was late into the night, a small portion of the twenty-four-hour day that I’d come to welcome because the terrorists were all sle eping. It was the only time I wasn’t terrified they’d decide to stroll in to torment me. I was curled into a ball in the middle of the dirt floor, trying desperately not to think about food, water, or the fact that every inch of my body felt like I’d been used as a punching bag. Reminding myself that my sacrifice had meant that some teenagers had been able to get their butts back across the border to safety was a fact I tried to hang onto with everything I had. I’d probably have to die so a bunch of kids could live. It was a decent trade-off, right? If it was one or the other—which it had been—it was better for one person to die than a bunch of kids. My issue with my reasoning was that I really didn’t want to die. The survivor in me wanted all of us to live. Unfortunately, the tiny portion that was left of my rational brain told me that wasn’t possible. I tried to take a de ep breath, but it hurt so bad to breathe. I exhaled gently, trying to convince myself that for now, I was alone and wasn’t likely to be disturbed until daylight. No sooner had I told myself I was safe for a few hours, when a big hand slapped over my mouth with absolutely no warning. I fought the adversary, determined not to go down without a fight, even though I had very little strength.
I always fought. It was just the way I was wired. The nighttime was mine, the only chance I had to think—if I could stay conscious—and it pissed me off that the few hours I had to rest were being taken away from me. I was sick of being a source of entertainment for the rebels whenever they wanted to torment me. I wished they’d just kill me and get it over with. If they did, the fighter in me would remain forever silent. “Danica. It’s Marcus Colter. I’m getting you out of here. Stay quiet.” The harsh whisper finally invaded my sluggish brain. Marcus Colter? What in the hell was he doing here? I had to wonder if I was getting delusional. Marcus was an international businessman, a custom suit-wearing billionaire. Yes, he did always seem to show up in dangerous areas of the world. But why would he be in the desolate camp where I was being held prisoner? I stopped trying to fight him, realizing that he was attempting to help me. “Marcus?” I said weakly once he’d uncovered my mouth. He didn’t speak, but he made a big slashing gesture for me to stop making any noise, and I could see it pretty plainly in my dimly lit prison. Normally, I didn’t like Marcus Colter. When we were in a civilized environment, we did nothing but antagonize each other. But right now, his voice gave me a glimmer of hope. At the moment, he was more friend than foe. Squinting into the darkness, I tried to make out the features of his face, but his form was pretty much a shadow, a man dressed entirely in black. He met no resistance as he picked me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck with whatever strength I could muster, staying as quiet as possible as he carried me past the tents and out of the place where I’d thought I was going to breathe my last breath. I buried my face in his neck, absorbing his scent like a sponge thirsts for water. He smelled like safety and freedom, and after all I’d been through at the hands of the rebels, it was an irresistible smell. It seemed like he walked for hours until we arrived at a Je ep. Marcus jumped in quickly, holding me on his lap, the vehicle sprinting into motion the moment we were settled. I couldn’t speak. Not only was the action difficult due to my dry mouth and my cracked lips, but everything that was happening seemed... surreal. Was I really being rescued or was I delirious? My brain was so muddled that I just didn’t know. Getting my freedom back wasn’t something I’d expected. I’d been resigned to the fact that I was never going to make it beyond the camp where I was being imprisoned. The only thing I knew is that I wanted this to be real. But it didn’t make sense. And why was Marcus Colter here? At one time, he’d done some private rescues of international prisoners, but his group had disbanded some time ago. My brother, Jett, had been injured in the ill-fated mission that had been the last for Marcus and the Private Rescue Organization. The only way my rescue could be happening is if he’d gotten the team back together again. I suppose it wasn’t impossible that he’d pulled a group of guys together. But my brother was definitely out of commission, and so were a few others who’d been wounded in the helicopter crash that
had ended PRO’s existence. I wanted to thank him for risking his life to save mine, but I couldn’t quite get the words out of my mouth. Maybe I’d always hated him for what he’d done to my older sister, Harper. But the incident with my sibling had occurred over a decade earlier, and I was grateful that Marcus Colter had snuck over the border and into Syria to rescue me. The mission was almost suicidal, yet he’d done it. I moaned softly from the pain as the Je ep came to an abrupt stop and Marcus shifted my body to get out of the vehicle, and then handed me over to somebody in a helicopter. I made it out. I’m going to live. The realization that I wasn’t going to die at the hands of my black- hearted tormentors was almost too much to comprehend. Tears of relief trickled down my cheeks, but my body was so weak that I couldn’t move. My mind was sluggish from d eprivation and torture, but I knew everything I needed to know: I was safe. I felt much better a few days later as I ended my call with Harper to let her know I was still alive, and that I was getting more physically stable every day. Maybe I did need to gain a few pounds, but with my love of all things junk food, I’d regain the weight I’d lost. I was well hydrated with the help of IV fluids, and my brain was finally functional again. Dropping my cell phone onto the bedside table, I mumbled to myself, “I need to get the hell out of here.” There was nothing I hated more than hospitals, and I’d already been in the large medical facility in Istanbul much longer than I could tolerate. Truth was, I wanted out of the Middle East. I wanted to be back on US soil. “Talking to yourself again?” Marcus Colter drawled as he strolled through the door of my hospital room. I wished I could deny his claim, but I’d been completely alone until he’d walked in, and it was obvious that I was done with my phone call. Honestly, I did tend to talk to myself a lot since I was usually alone. “I’m bored,” I said. It was a lame excuse, but it was partly true. I hadn’t been out of my hospital bed exc ept to use the restroom since I’d been admitted to the hospital. I wasn’t used to being idle. My job as a foreign correspondent k ept me traveling and extremely busy almost every minute of the day. I looked up at Marcus as he stopped at my bedside, noting that he looked as handsome as ever in a custom suit and tie that almost matched the gray of his eyes. “You’ll survive,” he drawled with very little sympathy. “You need to stay until your condition improves. You have to be strong enough to travel.” As usual, I wanted to slap the smug look off his face. Unfortunately, I’d seen the exact same expression too many times in the past. Everywhere I went, it seemed like Marcus was there. If a certain area of the world was a hot spot, I never had any question as to whether or not Marcus would show up. He
always did, although I had no idea why he always seemed to be in the most screwed-up places in the world. Being a journalist, I had good reason for being wherever there was trouble. But Marcus was a businessman, and he no longer did any work with PRO. So why was it that he was always in the middle of anything bad that was happening on the planet? “I’m better,” I argued. “I’m strong enough.” Marcus lifted an arrogant brow. “You wouldn’t make it past the hospital door before you collapsed,” he observed. “You’re still too weak.” I wanted to challenge him by getting up and walking out of the hospital, but I was still attached to the IV, and I already knew how much effort it took just to get up and go to the bathroom. I’d done it many times since they were pumping me full of fluids. I crossed my arms over my chest. “I want to go home, Marcus. If I have to, I’ll have one of my brothers come get me.” I knew I was acting like an ungrateful brat, but the truth was, I was feeling really edgy and anxious. Fear was getting the best of me at the moment, and I couldn’t stop the nightmares I’d been having, or the feeling that the rebels might somehow find me. He shook his head. “They wouldn’t do it. I’ve already talked to everybody in your family. Nobody is letting you out of the hospital until you’re stable. It’s a long damn trip back to the States. You need more time to get stronger.” I let out an irritated sigh because I knew he wasn’t bluffing. Marcus wasn’t the type to not back up every word he uttered. If he said he’d talked to my family, I knew it was true. Honestly, I wasn’t sure exactly how I felt about Marcus Colter now. My phone call with Harper had been intriguing. And it had let the eldest Colter brother off the hook for being an asshole to my sister, Harper. It was hard to believe it had been Blake, Marcus’s identical twin, who had sl ept with my elder sister and broken her heart over a decade ago. That had been one of the reasons why seeing Marcus unsettled me, but it wasn’t the only one. Marcus could easily be the most stubborn, cynical, irritating ass I knew, and he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I’d seen him. However, he had saved my life. Before, I’d always had a reason to dislike him over what had happened with Harper. Now, I wasn’t sure how to treat him. Yeah, he was still a jerk sometimes, but other than his overinflated male ego, I really had no reason to hate him anymore. “So when can I go?” I asked in an annoyed tone. “I’ll go stir-crazy if I stay here much longer.” “You just got hydrated. It’s going to be at least another week.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a plane ride to get back home.” Really, all I wanted was to get out of the Middle East and back to the US. I’d feel safer, but I didn’t want to tell Marcus how nervous and tense I was feeling. Technically, I was in a safe place, and I didn’t want to sound crazy or paranoid. The two of us had always had a fairly level playing field. This area was my turf, the place where I did most of my r eporting. Now, it was the setting for most of my nightmares. He dropped a large bag he’d been carrying onto the bed beside my hip. “Here’s something to combat your boredom.”
I rummaged through the sack, finding some books I’d wanted to read, a deck of cards, some of my favorite junk food, and a small chess set. “You play chess?” I asked. “Obviously I can’t play alone.” He nodded. “I do.” “How did you know that I played?” I queried. He shrugged. “Jett might have mentioned it.” I smiled. “None of my brothers can even challenge me anymore.” “I’ll win. I always do,” Marcus told me arrogantly. I eyed him carefully as I opened a bag of chips and started munching on them like I’d been d eprived. I let the salty taste flow over my taste buds, and I nearly moaned with satisfaction. He opened the small chess set and started setting up the pieces as I watched. Marcus radiated power, control, and a hefty dose of self-confidence, which was a nice way of saying he could be an arrogant prick. But that didn’t mean I could ever forget the fact that his mere presence filled the room with tension. I’d done little but trade jabs with Marcus in the past, and I wasn’t sure quite how to interact with him now that I knew he wasn’t responsible for sle eping with Harper and hurting her so badly. “Chips?” I asked, offering him the open bag. He frowned. “No, thanks. I avoid processed foods and excess salt. That stuff is bad for you.” I shrugged, pulling the chips back. I was only giving him one shot. I was greedy when it came to my snacks. “If I give up everything that isn’t good for me, life would be boring.” After being d eprived of food for so long, I planned on devouring every healthy and unhealthy bit of food I could get. “Your brother, Jett, says the same damn thing,” Marcus answered in a disgusted tone. “I guess it’s a family thing,” I joked. “I suppose.” “Do you think Harper and Blake will end up together now that the whole mess from ten years ago is finally settled?” I wanted my sister to be happy, and I was pretty sure Blake was the only man in the world who could make Harper settle down. In the decade since they’d parted, my sister had dedicated herself to her career as an architect, and I’d never seen her interested in another guy. “I have no idea,” Marcus answered as he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “I try not to get into other people’s business, especially my family when it comes to their love lives.” I shifted position, sitting up in the bed so I could study the chessboard. “She loves him,” I said confidently. “I’m not sure she ever stopped.” “I don’t think Blake did either,” Marcus admitted. I nodded. “Then I’m sure they’ll sort everything out.” “I hope so,” he said in a graveled voice. “If they don’t, he’ll be moping around like an adolescent.” Deciding that I wanted the black pieces, I spun the board around. “I don’t believe that you don’t care whether or not your twin is happy.” “I didn’t say that I didn’t care,” he reminded me. So he does care, but he tries not to get in volved? If I judged by Marcus’s attitude on the surface, I’d be tempted to believe he really didn’t give a crap about anybody but himself. But his actions told another story. He’d immediately found Blake once Harper had come to him about my kidnapping, and told his twin brother to straighten the mess out. He’d thrown the two of them together on purpose. I was sure he had.
“So you’d be happy if it happened?” I queried. He didn’t answer immediately. Marcus’s gaze was on the chessboard since he got the first move with the white pieces, a position that gave him a slight advantage. “Regardless of what you might think of me, I want my brother to be happy,” he r eplied simply. I soon found out that prying information out of Marcus was going to take more energy than I had. Unfortunately for me, the guy was an amazing chess player, and I was beyond sorry that I’d allowed him any advantage after he kicked my ass. Thankfully, he wasn’t the type to gloat too much, but it annoyed me just the same. It took almost a week to the day I entered the hospital to get back out again. I still had some healing to do, but I was relieved when Marcus’s jet finally got into the air to take us back to the US. Tate Colter, Marcus’s younger brother and the pilot of my rescue mission, had left yesterday morning, eager to get back to his wife, so I no longer had the distraction of his company. I liked Tate, and I was just as grateful to him as I was to Marcus for risking his life to save me and ke eping me company while I’d recovered. I hadn’t gotten a chance to thank the rest of the team because I’d been too sick when they’d left, but I was truly thankful to all of them. I leaned back against the leather headrest as Marcus’s large jet climbed to its cruising altitude. “Thank you for coming to get me,” I said in a breathless voice. Never once had I mentioned my experience with my kidnappers. I answered questions, but I hadn’t wanted to talk about it. I still didn’t. But I’d thanked Tate before he’d left, and I knew I owed Marcus for taking such a major risk for somebody he barely knew. “Just try to contain yourself from jumping back into another bad situation,” he answered from the seat next to me. “I get why you did it, but you had to have known that you were probably going to end up dead when you crossed the border.” We hit turbulence while the jet was climbing, and I dug my short fingernails into the leather armrest. I’d never been a nervous flier before this trip home, but I was quickly discovering that my experiences in captivity had changed me. “I didn’t really think about it before I went,” I admitted to Marcus. “My fear for the kids who had crossed over before I did made me throw caution to the wind. I wanted to get them out. I didn’t take time to weigh the consequences.” Yeah, maybe my actions had been reckless, but it had saved the teenagers. If I had a choice of watching them die or risking a diversion by crossing over myself, I would do the same thing all over again. “Think about the danger next time—before you act,” he rumbled. “You scared the hell out of your entire family. Harper was beside herself, and your brothers were ready to cross the border to find you themselves, which would have gotten them all dead.” “It’s not like I was trying to get kidnapped,” I told him indignantly. “Another few days of captivity probably would have killed you,” Marcus answered rigidly. “They were already talking about killing me,” I confessed in a nervous tone, bringing up my captors for the first time all on my own.
“You understood them?” I nodded as he turned his eyes to my face. “Yes. I speak some Arabic, but I never let on that I did. Since they weren’t getting any money, there wasn’t much reason for them to ke ep me alive. I guess I wasn’t even any fun to play with anymore. I was too broken down to put up much of a fight.” “You look better,” he said huskily, his tone slightly more gentle. “What did you do to your hair?” I ran my fingers through the short pixie cut. “Nothing. The stylist just evened out the cut, and then dyed it all back to my natural color.” Being a detail guy, Marcus had sent me every service I needed while I was in the hospital, including somebody to fix my hair and try to heal all the cracks and breaks on my skin. “You’re a redhead?” “Yes,” I admitted. “But I thought I might have a better shot at the foreign correspondent job if I went blonde. Redheads draw a lot of attention, especially in foreign countries where that hair color is hardly ever seen. I wanted to blend in instead of standing out. I didn’t really want anybody to know who I was.” Marcus seemed to be satisfied with my answer because he was silent for a few minutes. He wasn’t a guy who spoke just to hear himself talking, a trait I was currently grateful he had. Once the jet leveled off, I told Marcus, “I think I’ll try to sle ep for a while.” I was exhausted from just the mild exercise I’d had during the day. All I’d really done was get discharged from the hospital and made my way to Marcus’s jet. Still, I felt like I’d spent the entire day doing hard labor. He opened his laptop computer, and without looking at me, he answered, “Bedroom is in the back. Go sle ep as long as you want. It’s a long trip.” “Thanks.” I undid my seat belt and made my way to the back of the large aircraft. My brothers all had private planes, so it wasn’t unusual for me to see this level of comfort and convenience in a private jet. But it did feel strange to be the only other passenger in such a massive aircraft. The sle eping area had a large king-sized bed, and a bathroom attached. I popped into the restroom to change into a nightgown. Seeing my suitcase next to the bedroom door had been no surprise. Marcus obviously demanded efficiency from his staff, and he got it without question. “You done with the bathroom?” The sound of Marcus’s voice beside me in the bedroom nearly made me jump out of my own skin. Yeah, I knew he was still on board, but he’d startled me. Right now, it didn’t take much to make me jumpy. I nodded. The restroom had two entrances. One connected to the bedroom, and the other was right outside the bedroom door. A quick glance told me that the bathroom door next to the bedroom was closed, and Marcus was just politely checking to see if I was done. I tried to calm my nerves, berating myself for being so damn jittery, and then looked up at Marcus to reassure him I wasn’t a lunatic. His sharp, ever-changing eyes were so intense that they felt like they were prying open my soul.
Without looking away from me, he answered, “I wanted to freshen up.” He paused before asking, “Hey, are you okay? You’re really pale.” “I-I’m fine,” I lied easily. In truth, I wasn’t feeling well at all. My body was slowly getting stronger, but my mind wasn’t functioning as well as it used to. I obviously startled easily, and I couldn’t seem to ke ep my thoughts from returning to my time as a captive. I’m safe. I’m safe. I wondered if I k ept up the mantra for a while, if I’d start to actually believe that nobody was going to hurt me. “Bullshit,” Marcus cursed. “You look like you can barely stand up.” He moved closer, his big body crowding me against the wall like he was ready to support me if I fell. “I’m tired,” I admitted as I continued to look up at him, trying not to react when he put a hand on each side of the wall, leaving me trapped. “What else, Danica? What’s bothering you? I know that look on your face. I’ve seen it before in other rescue situations.” Marcus was my only confidant at the moment, so I either told him what was wrong, or I k ept it bottled up inside. I decided on the former. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I was so damn certain I was going to die, Marcus. Returning to this world, knowing that I’m not going to be hurt again is pretty surreal. I’m happy. I really am. But the fear won’t go away.” The words tumbled out of my mouth awkwardly. “That’s normal,” he told me. “You can’t survive an ordeal like you went through without developing a heavy dose of worry and anxiety. Do you want to talk about it?” Yes! No! Oh hell, I didn’t know what I wanted. Maybe I needed to talk, but I certainly didn’t want to, especially to Marcus. I was too used to always ke eping my guard up around him. However, he was all I had right now. “Not really,” I murmured. “It’s in the past. I just want to be myself again.” “I’m sorry we didn’t get to you sooner,” Marcus rumbled. “You were at those bastards’ mercy for too damn long.” “You saved my life,” I reminded him. “And it was a considerable risk for you and the rest of the rescue team. I’m just grateful you got there before I was dead.” Marcus lifted a hand to my face, and I automatically flinched. But he simply stroked over my bruised skin as he r eplied, “The assholes will pay for every damn time they touched you, Danica. I swear.” I shook my head. “I doubt they’ll ever be found.” “They will,” Marcus contradicted. “All of them are probably dead by now. The military was contacted the moment we moved out of the area so they could do an air strike on the compound.” He paused before asking, “They’re all dead. Does that help?” Did it help to know that my tormentors were probably no longer alive? I wasn’t certain it made a difference. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “They’re still not dead in my mind, Marcus.” His touch was tender on my damaged skin, and his scent and warmth was intoxicating. Pretending I had Marcus to protect me helped. My mind was focused on him and the way he made me feel normal again.
“You’ll stay safe, Dani. Nobody is going to hurt you again,” he said with a feral growl. Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around his neck, shivering from just the casual contact of my fingers at the nape of his neck. “Thank you,” I whispered, my gaze getting lost in his forceful gray stare. His head came down slowly, giving me plenty of time to avoid him had I chosen to do so. But I wanted Marcus to touch me. I wanted to feel alive. The embrace was gentle, a coaxing meeting of mouths, Marcus trying to cajole something out of me that he couldn’t do with words. He put his arms around me as he plundered my mouth, his hands stroking down my back and landing on my ass. The second he pulled me forward, my scantily clad body colliding with his, I lost the sense of protection, heat, and tenderness in his kiss. His bold erection pressed against my lower abdomen, and I panicked, forgetting everything exc ept my instinctive, visceral reaction. My hands went to his chest, and I started to claw to get away from him. I tore my lips from his, unable to endure the flashes of memory that tore through my head. “No. Please. Don’t.” “Dani!” Marcus said firmly, giving me a gentle shake. “What the hell happened? Open your eyes.” His commands finally sunk into my confused brain, and I opened my eyes. I hadn’t even realized that I’d closed them to try to fend off the flashbacks, a spontaneous reaction that had just made them worse. “Marcus?” His face was right there in my vision. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault. I’m going to ask you one more time... Are you okay?” Tears slid down my cheeks as I looked up at him. “No,” I answered. “I don’t think I am okay. Right now, I’m not sure I’ll ever be normal again. I feel like a prisoner in my own body. It scares me.” “I know. Things will get better. But I can’t help you if you don’t want to talk about what happened.” He hesitated, his eyes assessing my face. “You said you weren’t sexually assaulted, but I think you’re lying.” Breaking easily away from Marcus’s hold, I swiped the tears from my face. “It’s hard to talk about that period of time,” I answered truthfully. “I was degraded, beaten down until I didn’t even want to fight anymore. But I couldn’t not try to fend them off. I don’t want anybody to know everything that happened to me. I don’t want to ke ep living it over and over again.” Every emotion I had seemed to have rocketed to the surface. I continued, with my back to Marcus. “It was like a horrible nightmare that I couldn’t es cape even when I was awake. Especially while I was conscious and fairly alert. At first, it took several men to hold me down while I was raped. Eventually, they only needed a few. As I got weaker, I became easier and easier to use and torture.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Marcus answered sharply, turning me around to face him again. My own fury became unleashed. “I didn’t want to tell anyone. What difference would it make? It’s not like they’re going to be brought to justice in a court of law. My brothers would all want to kill the terrorists.”
Marcus’s expression was outrage. “Fuck that. I want to kill them just for touching you. Believe me, if they weren’t already dead, I’d do the job myself.” I wrapped my arms around my own body to comfort myself. “Can you ke ep my secrets?” I asked in a raspy voice. “There’s really no reason for anyone to know.” “You’ll need counseling, Danica,” Marcus answered hoarsely. “But yes, I can ke ep your secrets. What you tell people is completely up to you.” I sat down on the bed, my knees ready to give out from fear. I wanted to talk to somebody, but not my family. He was right. I probably would need therapy after what had happened, but I really didn’t want to share this with my family. My sense of shame and humiliation was too raw. They all thought I was crazy to be running into turmoil and war zones. I didn’t want them to know all the consequences of my job. All it would do was worry them when I eventually wanted to go back to work. Marcus took off his suit jacket and tossed it over a small dresser in the room, and then took a seat in a chair near the bed. “I’m listening, Danica. Maybe you can’t call me a friend, but I’m here to help if you need me.” He was composed, seemingly ready to hear about my experience. The pain. The terror. The revulsion and humiliation I’d experienced when I was raped and beaten so often that I wasn’t able to ke ep track of how many times it happened. And that once the rebels were finished with my body, how I’d wondered if that time would be the last. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I glanced at Marcus’s unreadable expression. Uncertain whether I could ke ep looking him in the eyes while I dumped my entire experience with the terrorists on him, I reached over and switched off the overhead light before I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Maybe I couldn’t tell Marcus every single detail of my experience as a captive, but I knew I needed to vent and let some of my anger and fear exit my body by putting it all out in the open. Satisfied that I couldn’t see much of his expression in the dim light, I started to talk... As promised, Marcus listened, occasionally letting me know that how I was feeling was perfectly natural considering what had happened. By the time the flight was over, I’d collected myself and said a brief good-bye to the man who’d been my comfort and my confidant before I joined my sister in Washington, DC. It would be a year before we met again, and he’d be responsible for stealing me away from somebody else one more time, but in very different circumstances...
Marcus The Present... “What in the fuck am I doing here?” I muttered to myself irritably as I trudged down the crappy sidewalk in one of Miami’s rougher areas. The area was dimly lit, and the caliber of the neighborhood I was walking through had gone swiftly downhill. I hadn’t been in Miami for a year or two, but it always amazed me that the affluent areas could abruptly end, and a short walk later, I’d end up in a dump. Not that I gave a damn. I’d left my car and driver several blocks back, and in a better area. My elderly driver, George, didn’t need to get his blood pressure up any higher, and I’d badly needed to clear my head with a walk before I met up with Danica. I wasn’t worried about my personal safety. I knew at least a hundred different ways to kill bad guys, and I was packing a loaded Glock under my suit jacket. If anybody wanted to screw with me, I’d make them sorry they were ever born. Hell, I’d actually welcome a decent fight right now. I was just that pissed off. Dani and I had been in the same city a time or two in Europe, but we hadn’t really seen each other. Okay, maybe I’d seen her, but she hadn’t actually seen me. I’d known she was there because I’d made it a point to watch out for her and follow her work destinations. It hadn’t really surprised me when she went back to r eporting soon after she’d physically recovered. She was still in hot spots all over the world. The only place I hadn’t seen her was the Middle East. Then, a few months ago, I’d stopped seeing her altogether, and I hadn’t been able to get much information about where she was going for her stories. Now I knew why. I’d been in Seattle a few days ago, and I’d dropped by Jett Lawson’s place to see how he was recovering. Even though it had been a couple of years since Jett had nearly gotten dead on our last PRO mission together, he still required surgeries to r epair some of his injuries. Most of the operations were cosmetic at this point, done to cover some of his scars. Unfortunately, thanks to his bitch of an ex-fiancée, some of Jett’s emotional pain wasn’t going to heal anytime soon. But his own love life and ex-future marital partner hadn’t been my buddy’s concern when I stopped by to visit. Jett’s thoughts had been diverted to his sister Danica’s new boyfriend. “Son of a bitch!” I cursed in an irritated voice as I approached the block where the bar I was seeking was located. “How in the hell did she get mixed up with a loser like Gregory Becker?” Becker was a rich bastard, but it was doubtful that much of his wealth came from his legitimate businesses. He’d been a suspect at the CIA for a long time, but as of yet, nobody could make any charges stick with solid evidence or intel. Stopping under a dim streetlamp, I pulled out the picture Jett had given me before I left Seattle, a photo that had been taken by a local newspaper in Miami. Dani had been captured in full color right next
to Becker, his arm around her waist, both of them looking pretty damn happy at a charity event the asshole had donated to a few weeks ago. There had been other photos, and other events where Dani had been by Becker’s side. When Jett had asked Dani what she was doing in Miami, and if she was really seeing Becker, she’d told her brother that they were dating and it wasn’t all that serious. Apparently, no matter what Jett had told his little sister, she’d refused to heed his warning about Becker. There probably wasn’t a single wealthy businessman who didn’t know Gregory Becker’s r eputation. Rumors were constantly flying about his in volvement in human trafficking, illegal arms dealing, and a hell of a lot of drugs. He was also supplying much of that ill-gotten money to rebel troops in Syria. That little bit of info wasn’t common knowledge. I’d learned that from some of the CIA intel. How in the hell could Dani be mixed up with somebody who supplied money to rebel groups similar to the one who had held her captive and tortured the hell out of her? Yeah, maybe Danica wasn’t immersed in the world of international business, but she had to know about Becker. If she hadn’t discovered his dirty secrets before, Jett certainly hadn’t held back on telling her all about the new guy in her life. Shit! Didn’t she trust her own damn brother? Jett’s concern for his little sister had brought me here to Miami when I had other places I should be. I k ept telling myself that I wasn’t here for me, but I knew I was bullshitting myself. For some reason, I’d never been able to forget the haunted look in Dani’s eyes after her rescue and on the way home to the States. Trying to kiss her on the jet had been an idiotic thing to do. Hell, even now, I don’t know what had possessed me to touch her. But for some reason, I hadn’t been able to stop myself. Unfortunately, I hadn’t known she’d been gang-raped over and over again. The way she had fought me, and the fact that I’d forced her into a full-blown panic, had left me feeling guilty ever since. However, the moment before it had happened, the instant she’d trusted me before things had gotten out of control—the chemistry that had flared between us had haunted my ass, too. I wasn’t going to even pretend that what I felt for Dani was brotherly, and that I was completely here for Jett. I’m here for myself, because I can’t forget her. Hell, for some reason, I hadn’t even been able to be with another woman since I’d kissed Danica. How fucked up was that? Not that I had relationships, but it would have been nice to have my healthy sex drive back again. One kiss and I’d practically been castrated. I hadn’t made an effort to fuck any woman since I’d felt the silky softness of Dani’s mouth beneath mine. The desire to get laid had been nonexistent. I was too obsessed with her. I reminded myself that I wasn’t pursuing her or any kind of relationship. I was just trying to save her ass... again. The hair stood up at the back of my neck, and it pulled my mind from my fucked-up thoughts. I shoved the picture back into my pocket and turned, already aware that I was being stalked. It was almost disappointing that my would-be robber wasn’t going to be much of a challenge.
He was all of maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, and didn’t come anywhere close to my weight or my slightly-over-six-foot height. The punk spoke in a voice that was meant to be menacing, but wasn’t. Not to me. “Give me your wallet or I’ll put this blade through your heart, mister.” Yeah, I’d been a walking target for robbery or mugging since I was strolling through a less than desirable area of Miami late at night in a custom suit. Still, this little prick was either bold or strung out on drugs if he thought I would just hand him my wallet. “Not happening,” I drawled, annoyed. “Now beat it, kid.” He raised his arm in a threatening manner, wielding the knife wildly. “You think I’m a kid? I kill people like you every day, dude,” he r eplied in a cocky tone. If I ever laughed—which I didn’t—I probably would have snickered. But I didn’t show emotion—not ever. However, the youngster in front of me was rather amusing. He reminded me of an adolescent who had watched too many bad gangster movies. I reached out, and in a split second I’d snatched his wrist, squeezing a nerve on his lower arm until he was forced to let go, and the weapon dropped onto the sidewalk with the loud clatter of steel meeting the cement. I pushed him into the cold metal of the streetlight pole, his face plastered against the post, and the Glock I’d previously k ept concealed at his temple. “That hurts,” the kid griped nervously. I leaned into his body and said close to his ear, “A bullet in your head would hurt a hell of a lot more. Go home, get off the drugs, and quit stealing from people to fund your habit.” “I live in a foster home,” he protested, his voice anxious as I pushed the barrel of the gun into his temple just a little bit harder, hoping to scare the bejesus out of him. “Then you’re damn lucky to have a roof over your head,” I growled. “Take advantage of it and quit being a little asshole. Ke ep this shit up and you’ll be dead before you’re legally able to drink.” I let go of him, but I put my foot over the knife on the ground before he could snatch it. “I said go home,” I warned in an annoyed tone. “Who the hell are you? I ain’t seen you around on the streets,” the kid asked hesitantly. “Somebody you don’t want to mess with,” I answered vaguely. The brat turned around and ran until he was out of my sight. I kicked the knife de ep into the bushes next to the sidewalk, just in case he came back for it. I wasn’t about to make it easy to find. The boy was a bully, and I hated that. I probably should have called the cops and let them take him to jail, but I had bigger things to worry about. And although it was probably wishful thinking, maybe the punk would straighten himself out someday. Problem was, he was obviously hooked on something. It wasn’t hard to read the desperation of an addict. Fucking hell! I hated seeing a guy that young screwed up on drugs. Shoving the gun back into its concealed holster, I pulled my jacket closed. I hadn’t even taken the safety off. The kid might be a juvenile delinquent, but I still wasn’t about to shoot a boy who probably
wasn’t old enough to vote. My only purpose had been to scare the shit out of him. I brushed off my suit jacket because it was one of my favorites, and then proceeded to walk to the end of the block and to my destination. When I arrived, I realized the bar was basically a dive, the neon sign in the window blinking like Christmas tree lights. “Real fucking classy,” I muttered to myself, unable to see Dani in this place. However, this was where she was meeting up with Becker. This sleazy bar was the best the jerk could do? Danica was a goddamn Lawson, a woman who had more money than she could ever spend. And this is where the two lovebirds were trysting? Jett had told me where his sister was going for the evening. I wondered if he knew that it was a haven for prostitutes and drug dealers. Probably... not. My buddy would most likely lose it if he knew his little sister was hanging out in this dive. I shook my head as I peered into the front window. If Jett had known, he’d have been here, even if he was recovering from his latest procedure. Dani’s brother would have a damn heart attack if he knew she’d even set foot into this neighborhood and this shithole of a bar. My eyes scanned the general layout of the small club from the large, very dirty window out front. I didn’t see Becker, but I did finally spot a woman alone at the bar. Her hair color gave her away, the de ep-red strands now long enough to brush her shoulders. I grimaced as I noticed the short, black, leather skirt she was wearing, and the skimpy green top that barely covered her breasts. Her black stiletto heels were secured over the lower rung of the round stool, and she was sipping slowly on some fluffy drink that was topped with whipped cream. “What in the hell are you doing, Danica? You sure as fuck don’t belong here,” I said in a raspy voice. The clothes, the location, the boyfriend... everything was wrong. The Danica I was acquainted with wanted nothing more than to chase down a story that she thought needed to be told. She wore a T-shirt and jeans because it made it easier for her to go after her story. She didn’t wear several inches of makeup like she was sporting now. She didn’t need it. She never had. Dani Lawson was drop-dead gorgeous without makeup and with hair of whatever color she wanted to tint it. Protective instincts rose up inside me, emotions I definitely didn’t want but couldn’t seem to contain. Unlike Jett, my obsession to watch over Danica was far from platonic, even though I’d never fucked her. As usual, my cock was standing at attention just from watching Dani sitting at the bar. She was my only weakness aside from my family, and I had a love/hate relationship with the youngest Lawson sibling because of it.
If I wanted to be truthful with myself—which I really didn’t—I’d had blue balls for Dani almost from the first moment I met her. Maybe that’s why we were always fighting before I’d rescued her in the Middle East. Of course, she had been under the false impression that I’d broken her older sister’s heart. Or maybe it was because I was generally an asshole, and she had no problem standing up for herself. She was the only woman who’d never had a problem getting into my face if I pissed her off, and she’d actually made fun of me on occasion. I definitely hadn’t liked that, but I did grudgingly admire her for her outspoken, smart-ass demeanor. I still remembered the stories she’d told about her captivity on our way back from Turkey to the US. That time, she’d been different from the woman I’d previously known. Her vulnerability had practically destroyed me because I knew how she’d been before being kidnapped. My fists clenched in anger as I remembered her frightened, expressive eyes, and I wasn’t sure how she’d even managed to survive the emotional and physical torture. My eyes scanned the outside area of the club just to make sure that Becker wasn’t arriving to meet Danica. Not that I really cared, but I wanted to be pr epared if I was going to meet more resistance than just Dani’s when I went to take her out of this place. I’d promised Jett that I’d get his sister away from danger, and this place reeked of evil. Dani didn’t belong here, and whatever crazy bullshit Becker was feeding her needed to be cut off now. As I st epped up to the glass door, I saw a drunken patron sidle up to the bar, using the stable surface to ke ep him upright. “Don’t touch her. Don’t you fucking touch her,” I growled as I yanked the door open. Danica’s squeal of alarm rang through the rancid air of the bar just as I st epped inside. There was a male hand on Dani’s ass that didn’t belong to me, and anybody touching her there who wasn’t me was completely unacc eptable. The trashed male was twice her size, and as his fingers curled around her wrist to try to drag her off the barstool, I lost total control of my reasoning ability. It was something that had never happened to me before, but as I st epped forward, it felt pretty damn good to plant my fist in his face and watch him hit the dirty floor with a satisfying thud.