“Abby,” Lloyd clarified when Kane didn’t answer. “She’s very pretty.”
Kane shifted his eyes. “Ex–Mafia thugs aren’t supposed to use words like pretty, Lloyd.”
The giant of a man gave a clumsy shrug. “Would you prefer I said smokin’ hot?”
He laughed. “Don’t let that red hair and sweet face fool you. The woman is a tiger.”
“Probably awesome in bed, though,” came Luke’s drawl.
Luke entered the kitchen wearing a pair of faded jeans and a New Orleans Saints jersey with the sleeves cut off. Bear was scampering on Luke’s heels, making a beeline for the door. The dog pressed his nose against the glass and began to whine, his gaze focused on Abby in such concentration that Kane shook his head in bewilderment. He’d never seen the mutt take such an immediate liking to a person.
Luke noticed it too, and frowned. “I think I need to teach him the word assassin,” he remarked wryly. “Though he does have impeccable taste. Don’t you, Bear?” Luke’s dark eyes twinkled with pleasure as he zeroed in on the two women. “Who do you think is hotter?”
Kane rolled his eyes. “Are you serious?”
“I say the redhead,” Luke announced as he went to the fridge to grab a beer. “Even with that black eye she’s totally hot. And, like I said, probably crazy good in the sack.”
Kane’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be vulgar.”
Luke hooted. “Oh, come on. We all know you were thinking the same thing.”
Fine, so maybe he kind of was. It bugged him, this inexplicable attraction he was feeling toward Abby Sinclair. She wasn’t even his type, damn it. Luke might be willing to screw anything in a skirt, but Kane was very specific about the women he chose to spend time with: bold, laid-back, and flirty—chicks he could have fun with, then walk away from without dealing with any clingy, please-love-me shit. Abby might be bold, in a scary, dangerous sort of way, but she sure as hell wasn’t laid-back. She was wound tighter than a drum, and he had a feeling she could kill him without blinking an eye.
Oddly, that was kind of a turn-on.
“I want to meet the rest of them,” Luke said as he twisted the cap off his beer bottle.
“The rest of who?”
“Noelle’s chameleons. Think they all look like Abby?”
Kane sighed. “You have a one-track mind, Lucas. Do you ever not think about sex?”
The other man grinned. “Nope. And I don’t just think about it—I have it too. Lots of it. Which is more than I can say for you.” Luke slanted his head. “When was the last time you got laid?”
“What can I say? I’m pickier than you are,” Kane said with a shrug. “I don’t have sex just for the sake of having sex.”
“Aw, isn’t that sweet. You like intimacy.”
Intimacy? Uh, no. The last thing he enjoyed doing was opening himself up to the women in his bed. He got off, and got out of there. Maybe he didn’t share Luke’s jubilant, anyone’ll-do mentality, but he was on Luke’s side when it came to commitment. Definitely overrated, in his opinion.
He opened his mouth, ready with a comeback, when his ass started vibrating. Reaching into his back pocket, he fished out his cell phone and glanced at the caller ID screen. Unknown number. Wrinkling his forehead, he flipped the phone open and said, “Yeah?”
A faint British accent greeted his ears. “Why, hello there, Kane. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Every muscle in his body coiled tight. “Devlin,” he said in a lethal voice.
Beside him, Luke’s grin faded, his face hardening with menace.
“How did you get this number?” Kane asked.
Devlin chuckled. “Aren’t you going to say hello to an old friend? No ‘how are you’? No ‘how’s life been treating you’?”
“We’re not friends.”
“We were once.”
Kane ignored the reminder. His fingers tightened over the phone. “What do you want, Devlin?” he demanded.
“I’d like to negotiate. You have something I want.”
Kane’s gaze drifted back to Abby. She and Noelle were still deep in conversation.
“She’s with you right now, isn’t she?” Devlin’s voice rang with delight.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The delight faded into annoyance. “Let’s not play games. Give me what I want and I’ll return the favor.”
Kane laughed harshly. “I don’t want any favors from you, Devlin. You don’t have anything I could ever want. And I’m not negotiating with you.”
“I want her.” Devlin’s tone took on a petulant note. “So make this easy for both of us, and give her to me. Don’t make me come after you, Kane.”
“Go ahead and try,” he taunted. “I’ll be waiting.”
He jammed his finger on the button to disconnect the call, but the anger streaming through his bloodstream refused to cease. He glanced over at Abby again. She looked small and delicate in that oversize T-shirt. As small and delicate as she’d looked when he’d carried her out of the prison cell, when he’d run a cold cloth along her forehead.
She’d been right. Devlin would come after her.
Fuck.
“What did he want?” Luke asked in a low voice. He set his beer bottle on the counter, all business now.
Kane jerked a thumb in Abby’s direction. “Her.”
Luke frowned. “Revenge.”
“Yep.”
“I told Morgan we should’ve killed the guy. He’s a fucking sociopath.”
“Yeah, well, hindsight.”
“Should we let Morgan know?”
“Might as well wait till he gets back. Devlin might have gotten his hands on my cell number, but it’ll take him a while to find the compound.” That was a relief at least. The paperwork on this place was buried so deep it could take Devlin weeks, months even, to track it back to Morgan, so Kane wasn’t worried about that. No, what worried him was Devlin’s interest in Abby.
“Okay, then. I’ll leave you to your babysitting duties,” Luke said, the grin returning to his face. “Ethan and I are heading into town for a night of drinking and screwing. Well, I’ll be screwing. Ethan will probably sit in the corner making googly eyes at that waitress he likes.”
“Don’t have too much fun,” Kane said dryly.
As Luke and his mutt left the kitchen, Kane noticed that the heated discussion between Abby and her boss had wound down. Noelle was now heading toward the sliding door, her beautiful face expressionless.
“Everything all right?” Kane asked when she strode through the door.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said vaguely. She glanced outside to where Abby still stood, then back at Kane. “I’ve got a plane waiting for me at the airstrip. Make sure Abby stays put until I contact you.”
He faltered. “Wait—you’re not taking her with you?”
“Not yet. I have some things to take care of, and I want her somewhere secure. Don’t let her leave, no matter what she says.”
He cursed under his breath.
“What was that?” she said sharply.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Good.” Without uttering a good-bye, Noelle strolled out of the kitchen.
When she was gone, Kane swore again, this time a stream of obscenities that had Lloyd, who was wiping down the counters, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
“I take it you’re not happy with this latest development,” Lloyd remarked.
Kane didn’t bother answering. Looked like he was going to be babysitting for a while longer. Shit. Abby Sinclair was an enigma wrapped in a fucking riddle, and he got the feeling she’d do anything in her power to protect whatever secrets she was keeping.
It should’ve pissed him off that Noelle hadn’t whisked Abby away as he’d thought she would, yet for some fucked-up reason, a burst of pleasure went off in his chest at the thought of Abby sticking around.
Pleasure, and something that totally resemble
d anticipation.
Shit.
The mattress sagged as he slipped into bed with her, sliding under the thin cotton sheet and reaching for the hem of her nightgown. Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t been asleep. No, she’d been waiting for this moment. Waiting for four nights now. Last time, he’d broken her nose.
Tonight she was ready for him.
“Don’t fight it,” he whispered in the darkness, one big hand latching onto her thigh. “Remember what happened the last time you fought?”
Oh, she remembered.
He’d hurt her so badly she hadn’t been able to walk for days.
Tonight he’d be the one hurting.
“You’re surprisingly docile,” he murmured.
He mounted her.
She waited.
He was untying the drawstring at his waist.
Move your hand under the pillow.
That’s it. Feel the knife? Good. Pull it out. Put it inside him.
“You fucking bitch!” he shrieked as the blade sliced into his fat stomach.
Hot liquid dripping onto her nightshirt. Blood.
“I’m going to kill you, you little bitch. You hear that, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
And then his fists were pounding her face.
No.
This was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to win this time.
You didn’t stick the knife in deep enough.
Pain flashed in front of her eyes. She screamed, loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. His hand clapped over her mouth, efficiently shutting her up. She flailed and writhed under his relentless fists, choking on the smell of blood in the air. His blood. Hers.
Her pulse buzzed in her ears. Walls closing in around her.
It hurt. Everything hurt—
Then it didn’t.
He was off her. Where had he gone?
She suddenly saw the shadow at the foot of the bed. The gleaming silver chain around a thick, corded neck.
“No,” she murmured, spitting blood from her mouth. “No, please…”
The shadow cast over her, bending down, reaching for her.
She slapped away the hands. “Please… don’t… no… no!” She clawed at him, spat at him, ripped that chain off his neck. She clasped the tiny medal attached to the chain, trying to jam it into the shadow’s eyes. His hands gripped her waist. He was carrying her away.
“Abby.”
“Ted, no! Please don’t—”
A sharp sting in her cheek. “For Christ’s sake, Abby, wake the fuck up.”
Her eyelids flew open, but the nightmare followed her into consciousness. A shadow over her bed. She instinctively released a right hook.
Kane easily deflected the blow.
“Don’t make me slap you again,” he said roughly.
She struggled for breath. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe, Abby.
“Kane?” she finally whispered.
“At your service.” He sank down at the edge of the bed. “That must have been some nightmare. I heard you screaming all the way from my bedroom.”
It took a few more seconds to orient herself. She was in one of the guest bedrooms in Morgan’s compound. She’d come up here after Noelle left, to lie down for a bit. She remembered Lloyd bringing her some soup, which she’d dutifully eaten since she needed to regain her strength. And then she must have passed out, seeing as how the red numerals on the bedside alarm clock told her it was past midnight.
“I…” She sucked in another lungful of oxygen. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
“I’m not the one who’s disturbed here.” He paused. “You called out the name Ted.”
“I did?” Damn it. She hadn’t said Ted’s name out loud in years.
“Was he one of your foster fathers?”
“How… how did you know that?”
“Morgan mentioned you were in foster care before you were adopted.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, desperate to bring some moisture back to her throat. God, that dream had come out of left field. She never dreamed about Ted anymore.
Not since Jeremy had killed the son of a bitch.
“Come on, let’s go downstairs and get you something to drink.” He reached for the sheet covering her body, then cursed under his breath. “Shit. You must have torn a stitch with all that flailing around.”
She glanced down and saw the dark stain on the front of her T-shirt. The coppery odor stung her nostrils, but when she took a deep breath, she noticed another scent. A masculine one. Spicy, bold, and erotic. Kane.
The heat returned to her body. Damn it. She wanted that warm flicker of desire to go away already.
Kane’s hands were suddenly on her stomach, lifting the shirt up to her breasts. She held her breath as his fingers trailed over her exposed skin. “You’re in luck. It wasn’t the stitches. One of the scabs ripped open a little. I’ll get a first-aid kit and we’ll clean it right up—” His words halted when he felt her stiffen. “For God’s sake, I’m not going to have my way with you.”
She met his gaze. “No?”
“No.” He looked ready to say something more, but then cursed again and stood up. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
She took another deep breath, this time to calm the strange rush swelling inside her. By the time he returned with a small first-aid kit in his hands, she’d managed to get her hormones under control. This time when he touched her, she remained calm.
“The doctor in Bogotá gave us some ointment for you,” Kane said gruffly, cleaning the cut on her stomach with rubbing alcohol and gauze. “It’s for the welts. He said they might get itchy once they scab over. I’ll bring you the ointment in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He finished tending to the welt in silence, dressing it with a thin piece of gauze and taping it down. Shoving the supplies back into the case, he swiftly pulled her shirt down and said, “There. All done.”
“Thanks,” she said again.
He tucked the case under his arm and drifted to the doorway. A flash of light from the hallway illuminated his face, making his features look softer, kinder. “I’m taking a shower. If you need me, I’m two doors down, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Again he opened his mouth, his green eyes glimmering with indecision. Then he shrugged and said, “Good night, Abby.”
After the door closed behind him, she sat up in bed, ignoring the sharp pain in her ribs. Goddamn it. She needed to be in Colombia. Not here, in a strange bed, with a sexy man watching over her.
Damn Noelle.
“I’ll think about it.” Those had been her parting words when she’d left Abby in Morgan’s compound to go God knows where.
What the hell was there to think about? Those girls needed to be rescued, period. They couldn’t just leave them in Blanco’s dirty clutches.
But she couldn’t do this alone. She’d had the perfect in already, at least before Morgan’s team of super-soldiers had decided to pull her out. She couldn’t infiltrate Blanco’s life again. Noelle could, though. Noelle, or Isabel, or Juliet, or any one of the women Noelle employed.
You don’t need to do it alone.
Kane’s deep, seductive voice slid into her head. She pursed her lips, wincing when the motion caused the bruise on her cheek to stretch and a jolt of pain shot through her face. No, alone wasn’t going to cut it, was it? She was covered in bruises, her chest felt ravaged, and her fractured wrist still throbbed.
Could she trust him? With Noelle reluctant to come on board, maybe Kane was a smart alternative. His team did rescues. They were trained, qualified. And Jeremy had held Morgan in such high regard. Maybe… maybe she should take Kane up on his offer.
Two doors down, he’d said. Slowly, Abby slid out from under the covers and stumbled to her feet, forcing herself not to second-guess her actions. She worked solo, always had, but circumstances had changed. She no longer had access to Blanco’s compound, was no longer positioned in a l
ocation that put her close to Lucia and the girls. If Kane could get her close again, then why the hell was she hesitating?
She stepped out into the hallway, her bare feet padding against the hardwood floor toward Kane’s bedroom. She paused in the open doorway, listening to the sound of running water. The door to the private bath was ajar and she could see steam floating out of the transparent shower stall. She crept toward the bed, where the faded jeans Kane had been wearing were tossed on the patterned bedspread. His bedroom was not what she’d expected. Masculine, yes, with the black and gray color scheme, but the antique furniture and cheerful landscapes hanging on the walls added warmth to the room.
She glanced at the bathroom door once more, her cheeks growing warm as the glass door slid open and Kane emerged from the steamy shower stall.
Naked.
She swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away from his nude, dripping-wet body. He had the kind of rock-hard physique that would make other women drool. His broad chest tapered to a trim waist, and his legs were thick and dusted with golden hair. He was lean, not bulky, with perfectly sculpted muscles that looked like they’d been carved out of marble. He was hard. Everywhere.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for you to join me in the shower,” he said in a silky voice. “Though we could still make good use of the bed.”
Her cheeks grew even hotter. Damn it. He was taunting her, and looked quite amused by it too.
She cleared her throat, deciding to ignore the teasing remark. “I’ve changed my mind. I think… I think I want your help.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. He glanced down, briefly, at the erection currently gracing his groin, then locked his gaze with hers. “Let me grab a towel.”
He returned to the bathroom and came out a moment later with a white towel wrapped around his waist. “So, you suddenly want my help. Your boss shut you down, huh?”
She bristled. “Noelle has nothing to do with this. You offered to help, I’m taking you up on it.”
“Who says the offer’s still on the table?”
Panic rocketed through her. “I’ll tell you everything, okay? I’ll answer any question you have, as long as you agree to take me back to Colombia.”