She kept his gaze. “I wouldn’t.”
“Why not?” he whispered. “You love a good bite.”
“That’s a staple,” she said, her voice clipped. “It would leave a mark, and you like me unmarked.”
Then he lifted her hand and kissed her unblemished skin “You’re perfect, and you know it.” He grabbed her waist and lifted her onto the desk, shoving her onto her back. Tugging up her skirt, he dropped, his face right between her legs, beginning to use his mouth against her clit.
As her thighs began to tremble and pleasure filled her, she recalculated her plans. Sheriff Cobb was still useful, and the wild part of him, the side she couldn’t quite control, intrigued her enough to make her want to keep him. For a while, anyway.
*
Zara slowly came to, noticing her head ached and her butt was cold. She gasped and opened her eyelids, her body flashing awake.
“You’re all right,” Greg said, sitting about three yards away across a cold room. “Maybe a concussion.”
Nausea ballooned in her belly, and she took several deep breaths, looking around. Grungy white cinder blocks made up the walls except where there was a steel door, dirt covered the floor, and one lone light bulb swung from a frayed wire dangling from the ceiling. Both she and Greg sat on dirt, and her housecoat was gone, leaving her in her burgundy nightgown. Although it was formfitting, at least it was long. “Where are we?”
“Dunno.” He rubbed his face. “Whatever they gave me knocked me out until just a few minutes ago.”
“Have you tried the door?” She pushed to her feet, and her legs wobbled. Slowly, she breathed out. Okay. She shifted her weight. Man, the phone was pressed under her right breast before the gown tightened at the waist. Apparently they hadn’t searched her that closely.
“Yep. Locked.” Greg eyed her. “Probably well guarded by guys with guns. Maybe sit back down? You look like—”
Dizziness assailed her, and she dropped.
Greg lunged and slid between her head and the wall. Her temple glanced off his chest, and she kept sliding down. He grabbed her by the armpits and settled her gently, pressing her back against the bricks. “Sit for a few minutes,” he murmured, crouching next to her. “We really can’t do anything at the moment.”
Zara looked around the dismal room and repeated, “Where are we?”
Greg shook his head. “I have no idea.” His brown eyes sobered. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”
She forced a grin and gave up when the bruised tissue in her face protested. “I jumped into the helicopter on my own.” Thank God they hadn’t just shoved her right back out.
Greg patted her arm. “That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. Why in the world would you jump?”
She blinked. “I couldn’t let them take you.”
He leaned back, his face losing expression. “You jumped just to save me? I mean, me?” His voice cracked at the end.
She reached out to touch his arm. “Of course. I’d do anything to protect you, sweetie.”
His eyes filled. “Okay. Um. All right.”
Her heart broke in two, right then and there. “We’ll be okay.” She leaned over to whisper, just in case. “I have my phone.”
He shook his head. “Where?”
“Solar plexus region.” In fact, the plastic was rubbing against her skin. “Ryker will be able to track us.”
For the first time since she’d awakened, hope filled Greg’s eyes. “You’re brilliant.”
She coughed out a laugh.
A scrape sounded, and the door shoved inward. A man in green camo gestured her out with a long black gun. Tall and broad, he was bald with deep blue eyes—maybe around fifty years old.
She stood in her bare feet and kept Greg behind her. “Who are you?”
“Shut up and move.” He gestured with the gun. “I have no problem shooting either one of you.”
Fear coated her throat. She swallowed and walked outside. They had been in an outbuilding. Icy trees surrounded them, and snow covered the ground. The wind chilled her right through, and she rubbed her arms. Snow covered her feet and she shivered. Another soldier, the one who’d hit her in the face in the apartment, stood nearby. “Move it,” he said.
She glanced down at a boot-stomped trail and headed toward the soldier. “Where are we?” she asked over her shoulder to the bald guy.
“Doesn’t matter.” He prodded Greg in the back with the gun.
Greg moved silently, keeping close to her. “Just go, Zara. It’s too cold out here to make a move.”
She slipped in the snow but kept on moving, trying to keep her feet from freezing off. As she rounded a bend, she paused at seeing a sprawling western-style log lodge against the mountains. The word PROTECT was burned into the wood above a door in an intricate and bold pattern.