I nodded as my vision came into focus. Less than fifty yards in front of me, I saw a large, white stucco villa with sweeping arches and a terra cotta colored tile roof. It had to be at least three stories with a picturesque columned front patio. I glanced over my shoulder to see the building where Ryker kept me. Like the villa, it was white stucco, but it didn’t have any windows—at least on the front of the building—and resembled a shed in comparison to the villa.
“What am I supposed to say to my dad?” I asked as Ryker pushed open an oversized, intricately carved wooden door.
“I don’t think we’ll be talking to your dad today.”
I halted, and Ryker’s body brushed against my back. Every inch of his heated body pressed into my back. I trembled. “Why not?”
His hand dropped from my neck and swept around my waist. “Your dad isn’t our main point of contact.”
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way his spicy scent wrapped around me, infiltrating my lungs, making me dizzy. “Then why are we bothering? I can’t imagine many other people have a sufficient interest in securing my release in exchange for your brother.”
“Senator Deveron,” he breathed next to my neck. “Does his name ring any bells?”
“What?” I seethed through clenched teeth. “Why would he care?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know. You’re the man with the answers.”
He whirled me around to face him, his thumb stroking the soft, still bruised skin of my throat. I swallowed hard. As usual, his touch unnerved me, and I tensed my muscles so I didn’t melt into him.
“He and his son are very interested in your safe return. In fact, their level of interest makes me question your little breakup story.”
I shrugged, feigning indifference even as my heart raced at the thought of seeing Evan’s face in a few minutes. Mixed…was the only word applicable to my jumbled emotions. Relieved he cared, angry he came to my rescue when my dad didn’t or couldn’t, and embarrassed I had sex with the man who kidnapped me. I hoped Evan didn’t know that dirty fact because I intended to take it to my grave. “Why do you care whether we broke up or not?”
A wry smile lit the sharp angles of his face. “I don’t care either way, but I need accurate information in order to fully understand the situation and react accordingly.”
I turned my head to the side, unable to look at his face for one more second. “Right, I’m just part of your job…another chess piece to move and manipulate as needed to achieve the desired outcome.”
“You’re wrong.” His fingers cradled my face, turning my chin so I had to look into his stormy gray eyes again.
“Wrong about what?” I whispered the words almost to myself.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes,” I said even as I shook my head.
“Even if I met you at a different time in a different place, I would have pulled you out of that bar and fucked you against the wall, except it wouldn’t have ended there,” he drawled.
“It wouldn’t have?” I said, mesmerized by his deep voice.
He shook his head. “I would have brought you back to my hotel and caressed every inch of your skin with my hands and my mouth until I burned you into my mind, and you had enough orgasms to last a lifetime. And then, I would have woke you up a few hours later to start all over again.”
Holy shit. My knees felt weak, and I swayed into him as my body warred with my mind to collect on his promise.
“Breathe, Hattie. Breathe,” he said.
I sucked in a deep breath. “You really want that? With me?” I whispered, the words barely audible.
He trailed a finger down my neck along my collarbone to the top of my breast. A fevered tremor tore through my body. “Of course,” he answered without hesitating.
“Then, why don’t you do it?” Even as the words tumbled from my lips, my mind pleaded with me to take them back. I couldn’t be with him again. Ever. It was sick, twisted, and depraved I had even considered it. I should slap him across the face, but I didn’t.
“I can’t. Your life is waiting for you, and when you’re safely ensconced in your bed with Evan in a week or two, you don’t need to have any more regrets weighing you down.”
“Why don’t you let me decide what regrets I’m willing to live with?” I needed to sew my mouth shut.
A devastating grin had slid across his face before he laughed. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and a faint dimple made an appearance on the right side of his face. For a split second, I forgot to be offended, but then the sensual haze cleared.
“Don’t patronize me.” Jesus, what was wrong with me? My mind and body battled over him even as he laughed at the expense of my sanity.
He disguised his mouth with a quick swipe of his hand. “I’m not. Believe me, I like your enthusiasm, but it’s better if I don’t touch you again. In a couple months, I’ll be a distant memory, and you won’t even remember the color of my eyes.”
“Maybe,” I prevaricated as I shook my head. Whether or not this was the last instant I ever touched him or saw his face, I’d never forget him. I wished it weren’t true. Trust me, the thought of five or ten years elapsing and still having wandering thoughts of Ryker—his sensual lips, his sexy grin, and the feel of his warm body pressed against mine—struck an apoplectic fear deep in my already wounded heart.
He dropped his hand from my body, I whimpered from the loss. “It’s time to do the proof of life live feed.”
“Do I have to read a script for them?”
“No. Just answer their questions. Nothing you say will change the outcome,” he said mildly. He opened the double door in front of us and held out his hand. “After you.”
Chapter Eleven
I froze mid-step as I entered the room. The only two faces I’d seen since becoming a prisoner were in the room, plus another older man, flanked by two overweight men with machine guns draped over their shoulders.
“Hattie,” Ryker said, resting the palm of his hand on my back. “You’ve met Caesar, and Javier.”
So, Javier was the man who had brought me food and escorted me to the bathroom the past week. “Not officially,” I mumbled folding my arms across my chest, glaring daggers at Caesar.
If Ryker heard me, he didn’t bother acknowledging the comment. “And this,” Ryker pointed to the man sitting behind the desk with graying hair, “is Ignacio Vargas.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when my eyes met his. His eyes were black, blank, and devoid of any emotion except maybe hate, but maybe not even that. Looking at him was like staring into the abyss. Ignacio was Ryker’s dad and the head of the Vargas Cartel. As much as I would’ve liked to ignore their connection, meeting him deprived me of the option. Ice crystals formed in my blood. This is what it’s like to look into the eyes of a killer, my mind whispered.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Ignacio said in perfect but heavily accented English. “I’m sorry we couldn’t chat earlier, but I had other business monopolizing my attention.” Standing up, he turned his attention to Ryker. “We should get started. Senator Deveron is waiting for our call.”
“We need to discuss how this is going to work,” Ryker declared.