“That I don’t need or care about.”
“I wonder if Kayden would trade the necklace for you?”
“He doesn’t have it either.”
“But would he?”
I know he would, but I won’t give Neuville the power over Kayden or me that he’s looking for. “You’re all greedy bastards. And if someone hadn’t tried to take the damn thing from me, I wouldn’t have lost my memory in the first place.”
“Convenient that you remember me, but not that necklace.”
“I’ll tell you what I told your brother. Nothing about having everyone hunt me down for that necklace is convenient.”
“When you were talking with my brother, or when you were betraying me with him?”
“He said he’d kill you,” I lie. “I saved you.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed him?”
“Yes.
He stares at me, eternally it seems, as is his way. He tries to tear you down, unnerve you. He wants me to reply again because the silence rattles me, but I do not. I won’t. I stare back at him, and while I can still see how I once saw his sculpted face, gray eyes, and thick, dark hair accented with a widow’s peak as handsome, now all I see is a mask for the devil.
“Take your clothes off,” he orders.
I don’t gasp. I don’t give him a reaction. That’s what he wants, and it’s not like I didn’t know this was where I’d be headed the moment I found myself getting into that car.
But this isn’t about me. This is about saving Sara, and living to kill this man. And the bottom line here is that I’m in a plane, in the air, going who knows where, and no one can rescue me. I have to get through this flight to ensure Neuville doesn’t survive this night—if it’s even the same night. I don’t know how long I’ve been out. I don’t know how long we’ve been in the air. And if I refuse his order, he’ll enjoy making me do it. I’m not giving him that satisfaction. I take off my boots, cautious to keep the money and credit cards from his view. Those credit cards might be the only way I have to tell Kayden where I am.
Pushing to my feet, I don’t give him the satisfaction that hesitating and looking awkward would reward him with, or the reluctance it would indicate. I simply take off my clothes and I’m naked, calm, and composed on the outside in only seconds.
On the inside I’m angry, and feeling other things as well. Humiliation. Dread. Vulnerability. Fear. I hate that one the most. But training in mental fortitude saves me from their destructive influences, and I package them up into a tight mental ball and set them aside.
Neuville looks me up and down, lingering at places I know he will touch me, but that ball I set aside is not in the mix. I am my father’s daughter, a CIA agent, a survivor, and Lady Hawk—and a Lady Hawk cannot, will not, cower. I will think of my Hawk. I will remember that surviving this means he will replace every memory of this man with new ones of him. Good things that overcome the way this man rapes me with his eyes and leaves me standing under the cold air that makes my nipples too damn pointed, his eyes too damn pointed as he lusts over them, and me.
It’s at least ten minutes before he stands, placing himself almost directly in front of me, and grabs a chunk of my hair. Again, it’s no surprise, but it bites. It always bites.
“You will change your hair back to red tomorrow,” he orders. “You will be nothing you were with him.” He lets go of my hair and grabs my wrist, showing me the hawk tattoo. “Did he threaten to kill you if you didn’t get this?”
“It’s a tattoo,” I argue.
“That’s a no, and the wrong answer. I will not fuck you with this on your body. I will burn it off before this night is through, and make sure you suffer as a punishment for making me do it.”
And I will kill you before you ever get the chance, I silently vow. I just need to get to Sara. The minute I’m in the same room with her—
He backs me up and sets me down in the chair. “Hands on the armrests,” he orders, and when I do it without question, I get the reaction I want: irritation. He wants me to resist. He wants to punish me. It turns him on. And I won’t give him the triggers he seeks.
I have to remind myself of this when he reaches inside his pocket. At the sight of the rope he produces, I know my mental resistance to being tied up is something not easily fought, and it comes at me fast and fierce, and I have to deep breathe to calm myself. You don’t kill a mob boss on a plane, with his men on it, and live.
I let him tie me up.
When he tugs my head back this time and leans over me, forcing me to look at him, he all but yanks the hair from my scalp. “You are mine, and so is the necklace.” He kisses me, and it’s all I can do not to bite his damn tongue off. But he bites me instead, damn near taking a chunk of my lip, his teeth creating a sharp, intense pain that radiates into my jaw and leaves me oozing blood I cannot wipe away.