by Rosanna Leo
He rested his brow against hers on the pillow. “This mate bond’s pretty deep shit.” He laughed again, more joyous than he’d ever been in his life.
And Ryland realized there was only one thing that would make him happier: to hear Lia say she felt the same way.
Lia mumbled in her sleep and rolled over onto her other side. Ryland pulled her in so he could spoon her. Even though his dick was nestled quite uncomfortably between her ass cheeks, making him harder than the icy lake in midwinter, he grinned and closed his eyes. It felt good just to hold her. Unable to resist temptation, however, he ran a hand over the smooth curve of her bottom.
He wondered if it was still pink. She’d come so hard after he’d spanked her, and her excitement had led to the most explosive orgasm of his life.
“We’ll have to do that again sometime,” he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.
The phone on his bedside table rang.
“Dammit,” he grumbled as he sat up and reached for it before the next shrill ring. He didn’t want to wake Lia. Why wouldn’t people just leave them alone?
“Yeah?” he said into the receiver.
“Ry,” replied Soren. “Marci just called me. Floro Valdez is here.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup,” Soren said quietly, a pensive tone in his voice. “And apparently, he’s not alone. He brought reinforcements. They’re at reception. I gotta go talk to him and face the music.”
Ryland looked with yearning at Lia, who was still out like a light. He had to help Soren. He couldn’t let his dipshit brother do this alone. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Lia by herself, but they still had an officer stationed outside his suite. And with Haggerty and Little out of the way, he didn’t suppose she was in any danger anymore.
He turned and spoke into the receiver. “I’ll be right there, Soren. We’ll do it together.”
With a sigh, Ryland launched himself out of bed and prepared for the meeting with an unlikely villain named Floro.
* * * *
Ryland walked into the reception area and quickly sussed out the situation. Soren was seated in one of the more private areas. Off to the side, tucked away near the bar, he was perched on one of the many leather couches. He looked mighty nervous, with his elbows on his knees, drumming his fingers together. His lips were pulled tight and he was staring at the people settled across from him on the opposite couch.
Ryland checked out his brother’s adversaries. The group consisted of two beefy men, one of whom was the brown-haired man he’d seen loitering in reception that day. So he was one of Valdez’s goons.
And seated between those goons was the smallest man Ryland had ever glimpsed. Even while seated, he appeared little enough to be a large elf. He had beady eyes that were focused on Soren with a glint of frank appraisal. He was dressed well, in a nice gray suit, and was so impeccable in appearance Ryland suspected he had people to brush the lint off the suit for him. His thinning gray hair was combed to the side in a style not seen since the 1970s. His tiny legs were crossed at the knee, and he bounced the top leg as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
So this was Floro Valdez.
The conductor opened his mouth to speak and Ryland swept into their seating area, coming to stand next to Soren. “Gentlemen,” he said in an assertive voice. “I’m Soren’s brother, Ryland, and the owner of this place. Now, if this is going to get ugly, may I suggest we take it outside?”
Valdez laughed, his voice echoing through the room in genuine amusement. “Ugly?” he repeated in a thick South American accent of some kind. “Senor, nothing I do is ugly. I live for beauty. I make all things beautiful.”
Ryland arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, isn’t that nice?” He scratched his head. “It strikes me that taking a hit out on someone is not exactly beauty material.” He sat next to Soren to emphasize his point.
“Yeah,” Soren concurred, like a three-year-old arguing his point. The twit.
Valdez seemed confused. He turned to one of his men. “Che? What is this ‘hit’?”
The man leaned over and whispered into the conductor’s ear. As Valdez listened to the man, his face puckered, as if he’d just been told he’d have to conduct Billy Ray Cyrus in an orchestral rendition of Achy Breaky Heart.
Valdez sat up straight and waved a finger at Soren. “My friend, why would you think I want to kill you? You are the best musician of this generation.”
Soren peered at him, still suspicious. “You kissed me on the cheeks after you caught me with Gina. People say you like to serve up revenge with a .38 Special.”
Once again Valdez looked confused. He shrugged. “People say many things about me, Senor Snow. I’m a conductor in a position of power. People say I married my niece. They say I have horns on my head. None of it is true. Do you believe everything people say about you?”
“But what about John Parrish and Mike Knowles?” Soren asked, referring to the other musicians he knew who’d apparently disappeared. “They slept with Gina and no one’s seen them since.”
Valdez made a face at Soren. “John is visiting family in Brighton, and Mike is on sabbatical, writing a music textbook.” He threw up his hands as if it were common knowledge. “I thought everyone knew this.”
Soren sat back against the leather couch. “Okay, but aren’t you mad I had sex with your wife? I’d be pissed.”
The conductor sniffed. “If we are being honest with each other, I can’t say I am happy you abused my trust. But I would never try to hurt you, Soren. I respect your talent too much. I am just sad you feel the need to borrow other men’s wives.”
Soren frowned, appearing duly chastised.
“Then why are you here,” Ryland couldn’t help asking, “with your entourage of muscle men? Something tells me you didn’t come for the fishing.”
Floro Valdez laughed again. “I like this brother of yours, Soren Snow. He doesn’t talk bullshit.” With a congenial smile at Ryland, the man continued. “These muscle men are my associates. One is my interpreter.” He blushed. “My English is sometimes still, how you say, rusty. The other one is my assistant. I’ve had trouble finding Soren. My assistant found him for me.” He looked pointedly at Soren. “I want you to apologize. To my face.”
Soren’s eyes widened so much his blue irises seemed to take up half the room. “That’s it? You came all this way for an apology?”
Valdez stared back at him. “I am a man of honor. I know my wife is young and beautiful, and I am proud of her.” He paused. “And I believe she loves me in her own way. Still, I know I can never satisfy her the way a young man can. I know she sometimes needs … more. You gave that to her and allowed her to feel desirable for a time.”
Ryland watched the little man, certain he was about to pull out a rifle from deep within his suit and blow the lodge to smithereens. He didn’t.
Valdez continued, his dark eyes focused on Soren. “That does not mean I will accept it again. She is still my wife. And I’d hope that you’d be willing to make amends, out of respect for the institution of marriage.”
Soren breathed in, and Ryland could tell his brother had been doing a lot of thinking. Which must have hurt. “I’ve never had much respect for marriage as a concept,” Soren admitted. “But I am sorry. I was selfish and wrong.” He looked at Ryland, and Ryland knew Soren was apologizing to him just as much as Valdez. “It won’t happen again.”
Valdez stood up, his entourage following suit. He offered a hand to Soren, who stood and shook it. “I am happy to hear it. Now, Soren, I am also here on business. I like to do business face-to-face. I’m doing a recording with the New York Philharmonic and I want you to be part. It should be interesting. A rock rendition of Beethoven’s Ninth. I have the contract with me. Are you interested?”
Soren appeared doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. With you, we will sell many copies.”
“Uh, but Gina…?”
Valdez grinned and stood. “She won’t be there. No offen
se, but I don’t want you in the same room with my wife again. If she ever happens to walk into a room where you are, you will walk out. Understood?”
“Yeah. I get you.”
“Bueno. I am going to get a coffee from that nice shop down the hall. I will wait for you there.” Valdez moved out of the seating area, flanked by his two associates. “Oh, and Soren?”
“Yes?”
“It would be nice if you told a few people I really have horns. I am a conductor and I have a reputation to maintain.” With a final smile and a bow, Floro Valdez and his pals went off in search of coffee.
Soren watched them go and then ran a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”
Ryland smirked at him. “He was a pussycat. You weren’t really afraid of him, were you, big bear man?”
“It’s not that, Ry. I know I’m stronger than him or any of his associates.” He turned a relieved look upon him. “Valdez could destroy my career, that’s all. I’ve worked hard to get to this point.”
Ryland patted him on his good shoulder. “Then don’t mess it up again, little brother. Keep it in your pants.” He smiled at Soren. “Now, if we’re done, do you mind if I get back to my mate? She was sleeping when I left, and I’ve spent the last ten minutes thinking about ways to wake her up.”
Soren grinned and nodded his head. “You gonna marry her?”
Ryland felt a swell of emotion rush up inside him, as capable of throwing him off his feet as any powerful wave. “If I can convince her to have me.”
“Bro, she’ll be lucky to have you,” Soren said. “Oh! Just see if you can wear something other than plaid when you get down on bended knee, or Lia might think you’re offering to whisk her away on a honeymoon to glamorous Juneau, Alaska!”
Ryland sighed and shook his head. Some things never changed.
Chapter 15
Lia’s eyes fluttered. She saw only darkness so she closed them again, feeling so sluggish. Barely conscious, she was alert enough to realize she was surrounded in darkness. For a second, she wondered if she’d slept right through to the next evening. The room around her was just brown obscurity. Granted, she was exhausted and her eyes probably weren’t working well yet. She closed her eyes again and drifted once more, dreaming of Ryland and his sexy smile.
Ryland.
She grinned, just thinking of him and what he’d done to her last night. She’d never gotten so wild with anyone before. Not that he’d hog-tied her or anything like that, but with a few well-placed whacks to the fanny, he’d certainly expanded her sexual repertoire. He’d been so assertive, so sexy.
And her cheeks were feeling a little lonely for his touch. She wanted him again. Her desire helped her pry her eyes open.
It was when she reached for him across the bed that Lia fully woke and realized her hands were tied together with tight rope. And she wasn’t in bed anymore.
As she got her bearings, panic began to set in. She tried to stretch but then realized her body was forced into some sort of long, closed cart. She could feel every bump that the cart traveled over. Was she outside? She was certainly being wheeled away somewhere. With a dark fabric bag over her head.
For a split second, she hoped Ryland had simply woken up feeling a little kinky again, and was indulging in some new sort of sex play with her. But as soon as the thought formed in her head, she knew it was ludicrous. The ropes hurt, seeming to get tighter with her every movement. Ryland would never hurt her like this.
Should she scream? Hell, yes.
As soon as Lia opened her mouth, a hand came down and smacked her hard over the head, silencing her. As if the person at the other end of that hand just knew what she was thinking.
“Where are you taking me?” she shouted, feeling ridiculous considering she couldn’t even see the other person.
There was no response. Just more rattling of the cart’s wheels.
Lia kicked at the cart, knowing she couldn’t break free, but also knowing she had to fight back in some way. She got in two good kicks before the hand came down and knocked her hard on the head again.
“Ow,” she moaned, feeling woozy. “This is not funny.”
She made the decision to shut her mouth and just listen for a minute, in case she could figure out where her mystery companion was wheeling her. When she heard the squawking of forest birds, Lia’s alarm grew. They were outside. Outside Ryland’s lodge, perhaps not even on his island any longer.
Ryland. His name issued in her brain like a hot brand searing her skin. Oh God, would she ever see him again?
Fighting the urge to cry, knowing it was probably best not to draw any more attention to herself, she lay quietly but continued to wriggle against her bonds. She had to see Ryland, needed to see Ryland. In the short time they’d known each other, she’d grown to love him, and she would not leave this earth without seeing his face one more time.
That was when the awful thought occurred. What if the person pushing the cart was Scott? What if he’d somehow escaped the police? What if he’d found his way back to Gemini Island and had eluded the guards at the lodge? What if he was here to make good on his promise to cut her to pieces?
As dread filled her heart, Lia choked back her hot tears, knowing that if she started weeping, she’d never stop. Tears wouldn’t help her now. If Scott was truly trying to separate her from the man she loved, she needed her energy to fight him. There was no way in hell she was going down without a fight.
And if Ryland found her afterward—no, when Ryland found her afterward—he’d know his lover had fought like a bear to get back to him.
Silently, channeling her energy in a way she never thought she’d have to, Lia called to him, and prayed. Until something heavy came down on her head, so much harder than her assailant’s hand, and knocked her out cold.
* * * *
Within seconds of Valdez leaving, Ryland’s stomach lurched in a painful way. He gripped the top of the couch on which he’d been sitting earlier. Even as he sought to identify the odd pain, it cycloned through his body again, making him want to buckle. Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, Ryland tried to figure out if he was having a heart attack or a really angry gas bubble. “Ah, shit.”
Soren’s face creased with concern. “Dude. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Ryland spat. The violent spasm assaulted him again and this time it felt as if someone were inside him, punching his way out. Almost as if someone wanted his attention in a major way.
Soren leaned over, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Bro, did you eat the tacos last night? Because I gotta say, I don’t think they’re the best thing on your menu.”
Ryland ignored him as the sharp ache caused him to catch his breath. He closed his eyes as his idiot of a brother cautioned against eating Tex-Mex at Ryland’s advanced age, and endured the stitches tearing through his gut. As he closed his eyes, he realized the pain seemed to have a voice. His bear’s voice. And it called to him with a force he’d never heard from the beast before.
Get Lia! Go to her. Now! The animal raged inside him and Ryland was struck by an image of a caged bear, shaking the bars of its prison.
That was when he realized what was happening. As he did, the agony inside him subsided. If he allowed himself to concentrate on her, he could sense her fear. Could almost smell it. He’d never felt so in tune with another person’s aura. Of course, he’d never felt mated to anyone before either.
“Lia’s in trouble,” he whispered to Soren, as he straightened his posture. “I can feel it.”
And before Soren could say another word, Ryland made a dash to his suite of rooms, his brother following. As they ran, Ryland prayed for the first time in his life. He prayed that he was somehow misguided and that they would find Lia sleeping like a baby in his bed. Safe.
Oh God, he needed her to be safe.
And yet, even as he reached the door, and saw the guard was missing, he trembled. Where was the damned guard? When he saw the door was ajar, he knew the worst ha
d happened. Even as he entered the room and raced toward the empty bed, a crazed terror filled his soul. Even as he raised his already red eyes toward his brother, Ryland knew complete despair.
Someone had taken his mate.
As he acknowledged it, another voice rang in his head. Lia’s voice. And she was crying out for him.
Ryland, find me, please.
She wasn’t dead. He just knew it. She could not be dead. His mind would not process that sort of information, refused to acknowledge it.
Knowing he didn’t have the luxury of falling to the floor and ripping out his hair with insane worry, Ryland rallied and ran an unsteady hand over his face. At that moment, a confused guard dashed into the room.
“What the…?”
“What happened?” shouted Ryland at the man. He lunged. Soren held him back, seeing he was about to tear the man’s head off.
The guard reddened. “I had to take a leak. I thought it’d be okay as long as I was just a few minutes.”
“A few minutes?” Ryland stared at the man, enraged. Knowing he shouldn’t waste precious time throttling his soon-to-be ex-employee, he rallied. He quickly alerted the rest of his security team. He then looked at a pale Soren. “If anyone hurts her, I swear I’ll rip the bastard’s arms off with my bare hands.”
“It won’t come to that,” Soren reassured him with a hand on Ryland’s shoulder. “You can sense her, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. So talk to her in your head. Tell her we’re coming. Tell her to hang on.”
As they raced out of the room, not quite knowing where they were headed yet, Ryland did just that. He told Lia he loved her and he was coming to save her.
* * * *
Lia woke up in darkness, her head pounding. As much as the pain was making her want to close her eyes again, she couldn’t. Not when she heard the strange noise.
She looked around. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was no longer in the cart, but in what looked like a cave. She was still bound at the wrists, and could hear Ryland’s voice in her ear, although he didn’t appear to be in the cave with her.