Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  “I’m coming, short stuff,” I mutter over and over. “Be brave, babe.”

  It sounds stupid but I feel like our connection is so strong, surely she can hear me or sense me in some way?

  With the docks up ahead, I pull over and tug out my cell from my front pocket. The number takes me straight through to the detective’s desk. I suppose I could have called 911 but I’m hoping the detective will handle this with a little more finesse than showing up, all guns blazing.

  “Detective Matthews.”

  “Detective, this is Nick Jackson. We met when you dealt with the drug find that Sienna Wright called in.”

  “Oh yeah. I remember. We’re still sending patrol cars by, you know?”

  Yeah for all the good that did. “Well, it didn’t work. She’s in trouble. This Mr. Johnson they belonged to has her and is threatening all sorts if he doesn’t get his drugs back.”

  “You know we can’t just hand them back over…” he says cautiously.

  “Yeah, I get that. But you need to understand this, Detective, Sienna is in trouble and I’m going to get her. This guy says I have to go alone and frankly I don’t want a ton of cop cars coming down and scaring him.” I sweep a hand through my hair and sigh. “But I could probably do with some backup.”

  “Nick, now don’t do anything stupid. Sit tight and wait for backup. Where are you? We’ll send some guys down and we’ll get her out of there.”

  “Listen, he’s threatening to kill her if I’m not there in,” I glance at my watch, “ten minutes. I’m not waiting around for you guys to go in and end up in a standoff. I’ve seen how these things go.”

  Detective Matthews makes a sound of frustration and mutters something under his breath about ‘damned cop shows’. “I’m coming down, okay? And I’ll bring our negotiator down. We’ll get her out of there, just tell me where you are.”

  “I’m down at the docks. But, Detective, I ain’t waiting around. My girl is in there and I’m getting her out.”

  I hang up and start the car again. I’ve done what I can. Now I’m going to pray luck is on my side. If I have to shoot every one of them to get to Sienna, I will.

  When I pull up to the gates, I wait for the security guy to come ask me what I’m doing there but he remains inside his little hut. Instead, a hulking red-haired guy—I almost grin when I recognize him as the one I scared off—approaches and motions for security to open the gate. He motions me in and I wind down the window as the gate closes behind me.

  This is it, I guess. My palms are clammy, my pulse races. I need to see Sienna and I’ll be okay. Once I know she’s alive, I can figure out my next move. I eye the guy while he approaches.

  “You got the stuff?”

  I nod and indicate with my head. “Yeah, in the trunk.”

  He comes around, opens the door and presses his large body into the passenger seat. “Drive.”

  I do as he says, my gut bunched in knots. I flex my fingers on the wheel in anticipation and also to control my urge to wrap my hands around that fat neck of his. I say Sienna’s name in my head over and over, making sure I keep my focus. Only when we’re away from the gatehouse does he draw out a pistol and motions with it to a large warehouse up ahead. The morning sun glints off the windows and blinds me slightly. Crates surround us, all different colors and I tense. I have my doubts the detective will find us in this maze. Have I just made the biggest mistake of my life?

  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  I smirk. It might be too fucking late.

  “Pull over here.” He motions with his gun. I wish he’d stop waving that damned thing around. Doesn’t he know how dangerous they are? Still I can always hope he accidentally shoots himself.

  I pull the Jeep to a stop and glance up at the large building. It’s grim and grey and far too big. I could probably knock this guy out and then try to find Sienna but I’m not sure I like my chances. I’d probably get shot before I get anywhere near her and I don’t know how many lackeys this guy has.

  The choice is made for me anyway as when I step out, I spot Sienna being dragged from the warehouse by a well-dressed man and another guy with a skinhead. That guy, I definitely want to kill for what he did to Sienna. He’s the only one holding a gun but I’m willing to bet The Suit has one concealed. Johnson doesn’t look that bad, but from the little research I did, he’s up to his elbows in shit.

  Bile rises in my throat as they draw close and the large sidekick comes to my side, pistol aimed for my torso. I lean back against the car in feigned nonchalance, mostly to hide the Beretta under my T-shirt. Thank God the idiot at my side didn’t think to search me.

  Sienna’s gaze meets mine, tear filled and clearly terrified. She looks like she wants to speak but keeps flitting her gaze to the men either side of her. Rage, scalding and suffocating, fills me when I notice the bruises flaring on her cheeks and under both eyes. I have to fight the tightness in my chest and the mist rising in front of my eyes. Anger won’t help me right now. I need to be calm and in control. I make a silent promise to myself to ensure someone pays for hurting her later.

  Her hands must be tied behind her back and as I study her, I see her feet are bare, dirty and scratched. She must have put up a fight. I can’t help feel a little proud of my girl.

  “Nick?” The Suit asks.

  “Yeah. You’re the Mr. Johnson I’ve been hearing about I guess.”

  “That would be me. You have the drugs?”

  “I do.”

  He grins slightly. “You want to get them?”

  “Give me Sienna first.”

  Johnson shakes his head with a wry laugh. “You realize I could just kill you both and take them.”

  “You could.” I glance around deliberately. “But I’m willing to bet blood and dead bodies outside your warehouse wouldn’t look too good. Especially when the cops are planning on stopping by. Plus I don’t know what deal you’ve got with the security around here, but I very much doubt everyone here is in your pocket. Gun shots would draw some attention.”

  “You were meant to come alone.”

  “I’m alone. If we get this done, we can be on our way and the cops will have nothing to find will they?”

  He shifts his hand to Sienna’s neck and gives it a little squeeze, causing her to whimper. “I don’t need a gun to kill her.”

  Jaw clamped shut, I try to convey some kind of promise to Sienna. One that says I’ll get her out of here and love her forever, but at the moment I’m still hunting for a plan. I just need her in my arms and then I’ll get her to safety. I’m not so sure if I can say the same for myself but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’s okay.

  We eye each other for a moment. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing. I’m banking on the fact this guy probably plays a legit business man and doesn’t want a mess on his doorstep. Finally, he releases Sienna and shoves her into my arms. I instantly take her into them and she emits a small sob into my neck. I kiss her face and murmur into her ear as I unbind her hands. “Get in the car ASAP. If anything happens, just drive.” Then louder, I say, “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you.”

  Johnson smirks and holds out his hand. “The drugs are in the car I take it?”

  I nod, shove Sienna behind me and make a show of fishing in my pockets for the car keys. I reach around the back of my trousers and carefully wrap my free hand around my gun. In my other, are my room keys. With a grin, I throw them at Johnson. They go wide and the larger guy jumps for them.

  As quickly as I can, I force Sienna into the car and draw out my pistol. Skinhead brings his gun up so I fire. He goes down, a bullet in his leg and his screech is pretty satisfying though I don’t have time to think about it. Sienna has already scrabbled over and is screaming at me to get in.

  I duck to clamber in and that’s when it happens. My ears are still ringing from my shot but another bang crashes through my skull. Hot, searing pain explodes through my chest. I grimly remember the feeling though weirdly I’m sure my leg
hurt more. I glance down, half expecting to see my chest torn in two. Instead there’s blood seeping across the green of my T-shirt. Sienna’s cries are fuzzy to my ears and my legs shake.

  “Go,” I manage to mumble. “Go!” I say again before collapsing back. I don’t even feel the ground strike my head.

  Soft hands scrabble at my clothes. Sienna. Why is she here? She should be safe. Wasn’t that what I was meant to do? Make her safe. She sounds like she’s crying. I try to pull open my eyes because I want to see her face but my body won’t cooperate. Darkness pulls me under and the pain is quite distant now.

  I remember why I ache now. I wish I could look at her again. If I’m going to die, she’s definitely the last thing I want to see. Her hands are gone now and coldness swallows me. Far away, Sienna screams my name.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sienna

  That moment I expected—the one you picture when you first say yes to a solider. The one you imagine when you’re dancing at your wedding. The one you see in war films. That was now. It was the one where the man in uniform knocks on your door and tells you your husband has been killed in action. Except I never expected it to happen like this. Crippling agony consumes me when Nick falls back. My knees give out and I clamber out of the car to his side. Hands flat against his chest, stickiness coats my shaking palms.

  Blood. So much blood. The sound of the shot still rings in my ears and even my own cries are muffled. Rough hands wrap around my arms and haul me away. I fight against them, my focus remaining on Nick’s motionless form. I can’t even see him breathing.

  This is that moment.

  My life has just fallen from beneath my feet.

  I need to get to him but now another set of hands is on me. I scream and fight the hold of the two men. Everything’s a whirl. The hands trying to control me, the angry shouts of Mr. Johnson, the sight of Nick.

  Dead.

  Is he dead? I scratch and struggle. A hand comes across my lips and I bite down. The metallic tang of blood invades my mouth and Al yells in surprise and releases me. Though he still holds me, it’s enough for me to tear forward and come to Nick’s side again.

  “Nick? Oh, Jesus, Nick! Wake up,” I beg. I put a hand briefly to his chest again, hoping to feel the rise and fall of his breathing but I’m hauled away again.

  I sag against the arm pining me across the waist. It’s Al—Meathead. The fight has gone from me. I’ve got nothing to battle for now. The high-pitched sound in my ears is slowly dissipating, bringing back with it the real world.

  “Fuck’s sake.” Mr. Johnson comes to stand in front of Nick and motions angrily to Mike—Skinhead—who is rolling around on the ground, hands clamped around his side. “What the fuck were you thinking? What are we going to do with him? I’m going to have the cops swarming this place soon and I’ve got a damned dead body lying around.”

  I retch at the way he refers to Nick so dismissively. I can barely hold back the bile in my throat.

  “We’ll stick him on the ship. Throw him overboard. Same as we said we’d do to her,” offers Al.

  Mr. Johnson stares at him and the nods. “Get her on board and then come back for him. And get someone to grab that idiot.” He motions to Mike. “And have someone clean up this fucking mess before the cops get here. I’m going to tell the captain to get a move on. We need to get the ship out of here.”

  Al presses his arm into my waist and I retch again as it digs into my stomach. I fight briefly to break free of his grasp but my energy has gone. Without Nick, I’m nothing. He drags me up the gangplank to the ship and the smell of grease and stale air invades my nostrils.

  Cold white walls greet us. I’m barely walking, just being dragged. I’m aware of pain in my feet but it’s not really registering. Maybe if it did, I’d try and walk properly. At the moment, all strength has been sapped from me. I think Nick took it with him.

  Is he really dead? Images of blood and his pale face swim in front of me. He can’t be. How am I meant to continue on without him? Not that it matters. I’ll be dead before long. What was it they said? They’re going to throw me overboard?

  He continues down a maze of barren corridors. Metallic sounds and the loud rumble of the ship’s engine echo around us. He shoves open a door and flings me onto a single bed. The sheets are rumpled and are tinged with the odor of sweat. Al doesn’t even bother to say anything as he slams shut the door.

  I push up to sitting and clamp my arms around myself, willing the nausea to calm. I’m going to die, all alone. Drowning in the middle of the ocean. It’s got to be the loneliest of deaths. Maybe I’ll be lucky and break my neck or something when they throw me over. Or perhaps I’ll freeze first? I’ve heard freezing can be quite peaceful once you get over the cold. But drowning… you hear these things from the guys at the morgue. Drowning is meant to be agonizing. My lungs ache thinking about the sharp stab of water invading where it shouldn’t.

  Or is that just the pain that still lingers in my chest? I’m tense, my body throbs with the need to cry but I can’t seem to. I’m numb in some ways and wrapped in this incredible blanket of despair in others. It is nothing like when Rob died. This is like an actual chunk of me has been torn away.

  I scan the grim room. The only sign of color is the blue bedding I’m on and a matching couch. It’s not a nice one. It’s hard and leathery. It probably converts into a bed. Everything else is cheap fake pine. A freestanding closet sits in one corner and even the door to what I guess is the bathroom matches. The chill that’s been invading me since I was snatched has truly taken hold and I can’t stop shaking. What a place to spend your last moments alive. This really wasn’t how it was meant to happen. I’m a nobody. Hardly any friends and no family nearby to worry about where I am at the moment. I work, sleep, eat, that’s it. There is nothing remotely interesting about my life. At least there wasn’t until Nick. When I end up missing, everyone will be baffled.

  I straighten as the door clicks open again and this time Al is carrying someone else.

  Nick.

  Well, barely carrying. Nick’s a big guy and Al might be wide but he’s clearly not strong enough to lift Nick. So he’s being dragged. He dumps him on the floor and glances at me, a sick smile on what has been an expressionless face up until now.

  “Enjoy your time together. We’ll be leaving in a while. As soon as we hit open waters, you’re going for a little swim.”

  I barely acknowledge his words. I can’t take my eyes off Nick. The door slams shut and I jump to his side and roll him over. Blood already stains the floor. Those tears that wouldn’t come hit me with full force. I sob—big ugly gagging sobs, the kind where you can barely breathe. I flatten my head against his chest. He’s still warm. God, I wish he wasn’t so stupidly heroic. I wish he’d just left me alone. Then he’d still be alive.

  I wish I’d not been so scared and treasured every moment with him.

  Through my erratic cries, the rumble of the ship increases and another noise sounds—a groan. I hold my breath for a moment and become aware of my head moving slightly. I leap back and flatten my palm against Nick’s chest.

  He’s breathing.

  “Shit!” I scrabble to tear back his ragged shirt. “Fuck.” I can’t believe I’ve been sitting here, letting him bleed to death. The shock must have knocked him out. “Nick, wake up,” I beg and grimace as I expose his bloodied shoulder.

  I see raw flesh and lots of blood. Pressing the fabric of his T-shirt down on the wound, I manage to pry him away from the floor enough to view his back. It looks like the bullet went through his back and out the front but I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. I may be a nurse but I’ve never worked the emergency department and we don’t get many gunshot wounds in the stroke center.

  He groans again and I jump to my feet. I need to stop the bleeding. Dashing over to the closet, I tear open the door but only spot an orange life vest and some overalls. I swipe along the top shelf, but it’s empty. With a cry of frustration, I stumble into
the bathroom and throw open the medicine cabinet. A few band aids, that’s it. Then I duck under the sink and toss aside the few toiletries on the shelf underneath.

  “Yes!”

  A first-aid kit. Snatching it, I hurry back to Nick’s side and drop onto my knees beside him. He’s still making incoherent noises but he’s not awake. I tear open a wipe and set to work cleaning the wound. There’s a lot of blood but I keep myself detached, pretend it’s just another patient. Nick’s expression contorts into one of pain which must be good, right? Once the wound is cleaned, I’m relieved to see it doesn’t look as bad as I thought. The blood flow has slowed and I doubt it hit an artery or I’d know about it. I peel apart a gauze pad and press it firmly to the gash before lifting his shoulder and working on the entrance wound. This is harder as I can barely lift him but I manage to pry him away from the floor enough to clean and dress it. I apply two more pads to both sides, just in case.

  Drained, I slump back and study him. His skin is ashen and he looks like he’s aged a couple of years. Whether the dark circles under his eyes are from the gunshot or worry or stress, I’m not sure, but they must match the ones I have.

  I lean forward and press my palms across his cheeks, as if trying to warm him. I don’t know why but I guess I’m hoping it will wake him. The sounds of the ship filter in again and my exhaustion disappears. Instead, anger and determination fill me. I feel all hot and tense, my breaths grow ragged.

  Nick loves me. I’m sure of it. I saw it in his eyes when he came to meet us and if those dark circles are anything to go by, he’s been missing me as much as I’ve missed him. He was willing to die for me. Just like I would for him.

  But now I need him to live and if we don’t want to die today, we have to get off the ship.

  “Nick,” I try again and this time I press a firm kiss to his lips. A grumble emanates from him and I draw back, hands still clasping his face.

  His eyelids come slowly open but his eyes are unfocused and dimmed.