by Meghan March
His eyes go wide, and a flash of appreciation lights up Banner’s. Sensing my in, I seize it.
“I’ve done nothing but protect her. Even from myself. Let me fix this. Tell me where she is.”
Banner’s phone buzzes where it sits on the table.
“Is that her?” There’s no ignoring my demand.
Banner picks up the phone. “I have no idea who it is.”
“Check it.”
She raises both eyebrows to her hairline. “You bossing me around is going to get you nowhere.” Still, she unlocks her phone and checks the text message. She tries to keep her expression neutral, but I read more in it.
“It’s her.” My words aren’t a question.
Banner nods. “Give me one good reason why I should tell you where she is.”
I don’t hesitate. “I love her.”
She studies my face for several moments before holding out the phone. I reach for it, but she pulls it back before I can grab it. “If you fuck her over again, I will cut off your balls with a rusty knife. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
Banner drops the phone in my hand, and I read the text before forwarding both it and the number to my own phone. Then I delete both texts without the slightest hint of remorse. Banner doesn’t need to alert Greer to any of this.
I lock the phone and hand it back to her. “Thank you.”
I’m pushing open the door of the bar when I hear Banner’s screech of fury.
I’m in Logan’s truck at the four-way stop a couple hundred yards from Holly’s gran’s house.
“I wonder if he noticed I’m gone.”
“He’s a piss-poor security detail if he didn’t.” Logan’s tone takes on a judgmental note.
I look across the cab of the truck at him. “You ever been security detail?”
He shrugs. “For some people who pissed off Uncle Sam, on occasion.” He’s mentioned his military service, so his answer isn’t a surprise.
“Do you miss it?”
I ask the question to take my mind off the reentry I’m about to attempt. Nerves multiply in the pit of my stomach, and I’m doubly glad I stuck to my soda water and lime. Not only do I not need another hangover, I need to have my wits about me when I confront Troy German.
Logan rolls through the four-way stop and keeps the speed of the truck down as we approach the little house with the black SUV out front.
“I miss the brotherhood. Feeling like I was part of something bigger than myself. But sweatin’ my balls off in the desert and eatin’ sand? No. Don’t miss that.”
As we slow in front of the house, I ask, “How are we going to do this?”
“Not much you can do but tell him the truth.”
A grumble rises up from my throat. “Awesome. Great plan.”
Gravel crunches beneath the tires as Logan pulls the truck into the yard next to the SUV. Troy throws his door open before we even come to a complete stop. Logan’s windows are tinted, and with the help of the dark night, I hope I’m not visible yet.
Troy rounds the hood to knock on the driver’s side window, and Logan rolls it down. “You need to—”
Whatever he’s about to say dies when Logan turns on the interior lights and Troy sees me sitting in the passenger seat.
“Fuck.”
“She got bored. No one’s going to tell the boss unless you do, so you might as well let me walk the lady up to the front door and let her get some rest,” Logan drawls.
I, for one, think that sounds like an excellent idea, but who knows if straitlaced Troy is going to go for it. I hold my breath as I wait for his response.
“I’ve got relief coming in twenty minutes. She better get inside. I’ll tell him I just checked on her, so he won’t need to disturb her.”
My annoyance at being talked about like I’m not present is slightly mollified because he could be reaming me out, or worse—calling Creighton or Cannon, and then they’d ream me out. Somehow, in all of this, the men in my life have forgotten that I’m an adult, and I think tomorrow is the perfect time to remind them. I’m not spending another day cooped up in that house with no access to the outside world. I don’t care what Creighton or Cannon say, I’m done with this nonsense. I’m ready to go back to New York and piece my life back together.
“Sounds like a plan, man,” Logan says, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll walk her up to the house, and no one will be the wiser.”
“Who the hell are you anyway?” Suspicion enters Troy’s tone.
“Friend of the family. Mrs. Karas told me to keep an eye on her.”
Troy studies him closely as though he’s a human lie detector. Finally appeased, he steps back so Logan can open the door. Logan comes around to the passenger side and opens mine as well.
He holds up a set of keys as we make our way up the front walk. “I’m assuming you didn’t bring any with you.”
My gaze darts to the front door, and I realize just how poorly I planned this little outing. “Um. Yeah, nope. Thank you.”
Logan nods, explaining, “Holly has me come check on the place at least once a week.”
“You’re a nice guy, Logan Brantley.” I stop on the purple front porch and turn to face him. “Thank you for everything.”
His grin is quick and easy. “I ain’t that nice. Take care of yourself, Greer. Holler if you need anything. My number is on the pad by the phone inside.” After he unlocks the door, he gives me a quick hug and pushes me inside.
I’m alone with my thoughts as I get ready for bed. I won’t admit that I’m missing Cav something fierce tonight.
He lied to me.
Attempting to harden my heart while it’s cracked into pieces is a lot like trying to wash a broken window. Pointless. There’s not a damn thing I can do about it now, though. My time is better spent wondering why the hell Banner didn’t answer my text. I really hope it’s not another carny . . .
I tidy up my little room, packing most of my stuff. Regardless of the law Creighton laid down, I’m done being stashed away like I’m an embarrassment. I’m going home tomorrow, come hell or high water.
When I slip into bed, I miss the heat of Cav’s body beside me. Stupid heart. Stupid body. Ugh. Stupid girl.
I fall asleep telling myself I’m going to get over him tomorrow.
Six hours after I leave Banner at the bar, I’m standing in the shadows of a small white farmhouse in Bumfuck, Kentucky, with a duffel bag over my shoulder and my rental SUV idling quietly on the dirt road behind the property.
I’ve been watching the place for over an hour, and this security guy deserves to be fired. He never varies his routine at all. As soon as he’s back in the sedan, I start my mental timer.
I pull the lock-pick set from my back pocket and dredge up my old skills as I climb the steps to the back door. A few manipulations of the lock, and the handle turns freely.
Silence greets me as I step inside the house. I pause in the dark kitchen to listen but hear nothing. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I move from room to room on the main floor. Empty.
Adjusting the bag on my shoulder, I find the back stairs that lead to the second floor and take them two at a time, hoping to miss old and creaky steps. I’m mostly successful. I pause again at the top of the stairs, but still hear nothing. There are only two doors in the short hallway and I choose the one to my right, pushing it open soundlessly.
The shape in the bed tells me everything I need to know. Greer sleeps curled up like that when she doesn’t have me wrapped around her.
Still silent, I move to the side of the bed and lay out the contents of the bag on the floor—everything I need to keep her quiet and get her out of the house undetected.
She’ll forgive me. Eventually.
I buckle restraints around her ankles and wrists before Greer comes fully awake. She doesn’t have a chance to scream before I push the gag into her mouth and secure it.
This isn’t your normal breaking and entering. No, this is a kidnapping.
I wake to the feel of something being shoved in my mouth and latched around the back of my head. I reach for my face, but my hands are bound. My ankles too.
What the fuck?
Alarm bells are clanging in my head when my eyes blink open in time to see a masked man, all in black, just before he ties a blindfold around my eyes. He knots the silky fabric tight behind my head and I scream, but the rubber ball in my mouth stifles the sound.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
I struggle, kicking out with my bound feet. Useless.
My muffled screams come in earnest when I’m lifted off the bed and lowered onto some sort of cushion, my arms and legs folded into place. Canvas fabric surrounds me as the sound of a zipper penetrates the ringing in my brain.
Oh my God, I’m being zipped into a bag.
My entire body is jostled when the bag rises from the floor. A low grunt is the only noise in the room as the man starts from the room.
That’s when the reality of the situation hits me. Holy. Fuck. I’m being kidnapped.
Having a billionaire for a brother and more money than most people could imagine in my own right, I know I’m a target for kidnapping. My best defense against this, in my opinion, has always been the anonymity presented by living in the city. I can go mostly anywhere and not be recognized.
But here in Gold Haven, I don’t have that luxury.
My mind spins in a hundred different directions. Is it some redneck from the bar? A few of them looked like they wanted to make me their backwoods bride. Someone who wants a ransom? An enemy of Creighton’s? Who?
And where the hell is my security?
I bounce against the hard body of the man as we make our way down what I assume has to be the stairs.
Shit, if he gets me out that door, I’m screwed.
All the horrific possibilities rip through my brain. White slavery. Rape. Torture. Ransom.
The back door creaks open, and I kick my bound legs against the canvas fabric, wriggling for everything I’m worth. A heavy smack lands on the outside of the bag in the vicinity of my hip.
The asshole just hit me. He’s going to die.
Between the temperature change and the squeaking hinges, I know I’m outside. My chances of getting out of this unscathed are dropping with every fraction of a second.
The acrid scent of exhaust hits my nostrils moments later as I hear an idling engine and the sound of a door opening. I’m lifted higher before the bag is lowered onto another padded surface. I struggle, but can’t find anything to grab with my bound hands.
The doors slam shut, and I know I’m fucked.
My name is Greer Karas, and I’ve just been kidnapped.
The drive is short, but the panic building in every cell of my body multiplies exponentially with each mile. Taking deep breaths, I try to push down the hysteria that’s bubbling up. I need to find my cool, capable self, because I know fear isn’t going to help.
But fuck that rational stuff—I’m in some kind of bag in the back of a van or an SUV. I run my hands along the inside of the zipper, my nails picking at the teeth, trying to tear it open. No luck. The car slows and speeds up. Turns left and right. I’m completely lost.
Shit. Even if I can get out of this bag and kick out the taillights like that Dateline episode suggested, how am I going to ever find my way back?
Repositioning my body, I use my feet to push at the zipper, hoping to rip it open. I have to get out. Nothing budges. My scream of frustration is muted almost to nothing by the gag. No sound comes from the driver of the vehicle.
Or maybe he’s the passenger? Whoever he is, he’s going to die a slow and painful death when my brother gets his hands on him.
The vehicle finally slows to a halt. Other noises come from outside, and I hope like hell it’s people who can help me. I’m in Gold Haven, Kentucky, for God’s sake, not Rio or Tijuana. This can’t happen here!
Fear grips my muscles with paralyzing claws as the rear door opens and a whoosh of colder air fills the back of the vehicle. No words are spoken when my bag is tugged closer to the door and hefted once again.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I scream against my gag, clawing and kicking at the inside of the bag. The sound of airplanes sends bolts of terror spiraling through me.
Holy. Fuck.
No one is ever going to see or hear from me again. I’m going to be sold to some fat sheik like in the movie Taken. My brother is amazing, but he’s no Liam Neeson. Maybe he knows Liam? Hysteria is jumbling my thoughts, and my fear edges into full-on breakdown territory.
I’m going to die. I’m never going to see my family again. I’m never going to see Banner. I’m never going to know my baby niece. I’m never going to see Cav again and demand an explanation.
And that’s when I hear the voice. His voice. I freeze.
“We ready for takeoff?”
“In just a few minutes. You need help with the bag, Mr. Westman?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Cav.
Relief sweeps through me, followed immediately by rage.
I’m going to kill him.
Kill. Him. Dead.
All the adrenaline that’s been tearing through my veins over the last who-knows-how-many minutes morphs into the most vicious anger I’ve ever felt.
I’m. Going. To. Kill. Him.
With my bare hands.
My tirade is muted by the gag, but my struggles become violent.
He lands a slap on the bottom of the bag, this time on my ass. “Stop.”
I still, but only because I’m saving my energy to go nuclear on him as soon as he unzips this thing.
How could he do this? I’ve never felt such gut-wrenching fear. Why is it that every encounter with Cav Westman, or Casso, or whoever the hell he is, drags more emotion out of me than any other encounter over the course of my life? It’s insane.
He’s insane.
And I’m insane for falling for him so blindly.
The word falling grabs me by the throat. I’m not falling. I’m getting over him.
Or I’m going to just kill him.
I lower the duffel bag to the plane’s carpeted floor and reach for the zipper. This is a little like taking the lid off a snake charmer basket.
Greer is going to come out looking for blood. It’s the Karas in her. And I can’t say I’m not looking forward to the battle that’s about to come.
She doesn’t fear me. She’s strong and beautiful and as frustrating as hell, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about her. But that doesn’t mean I won’t use any means at my disposal to win back her trust. And I’m not letting her go until I have it.
It may seem counterintuitive to kidnap someone to get them to trust you again, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And when it comes to Greer, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. She’s the ultimate prize, and I’m not above fighting dirty to get what I want.
I kneel and reach for the zipper. Who am I kidding? I’m already fighting dirtier than my girl has ever seen. For a moment, the only sound in the cabin of the jet is the hiss of the zipper. I peel open the sides of the bag and the first thing I see is Greer’s big, dark eyes blinking against the sudden brightness. Apparently my blindfold-tying skills need some work.
Once she stops blinking, her face screws into a determined expression as I lean down.
Wrong move. She jerks forward, attempting to head butt me. I dodge her move and wrap my palm around the back of her head, gripping her long dark hair in my fist.
“Whoa, baby girl. You’ve got some serious anger issues that we need to work out.”
We’ve all heard the saying if looks could kill . . . I’m sure of one thing where Greer is concerned—she wants to do me some kind of bodily harm right now. A flash of guilt stabs into me for scaring her so badly, but I push it away. If she hadn’t walked out of the house in Belize with her brother, none of this would be necessary.
I reach for the buckle on the gag. “Are you go
ing to be a good girl so I can take this off?”
Her body relaxes several degrees, and her gaze loses its murderous intent.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” After I unbuckle the gag, I pull it away from her mouth. The murderous glare is back.
“You motherfuck—”
I shut her up the best way I know how. After the gag, that is.
Crushing my lips to Greer’s, I take what I want from her. It feels like coming home. Fuck, I’ve missed this. Missed her. So goddamned much. The tension that’s been dogging me loosens now that I’m tasting her again.
Her sharp teeth nip my lip, hard, and I draw back.
“You kidnapped me! You’re insane.”
“Only because your brother keeps security on you, and I had to get you out undetected. I wasn’t trying to scare the hell out of you. What else was I supposed to do? Ask your brother’s permission? That’s not how I work.”
I lift her from her seated position, arms and legs still bound, and carry her to the bench seat on the left side of the cabin. Settling into the plush leather, I turn her sideways on my lap. We have a few minutes before takeoff, and I’ll need to strap her into her seat without the captain noticing the restraints. Then again, he’s paid well not to ask questions.
Squeezing tighter, I pull her into my body, crushing her against me. “Goddammit, I missed you, baby girl. How the hell could I fix this if I couldn’t even get to you? You walked out, and I had no other option.”
The last thing I expect to see is tears in her eyes, but they appear, turning her dark gaze glassy.
“But you did scare the hell out of me! I thought I was being stolen and sold to some fat sheik.”
I smooth her wild hair out of her face. “Fuck, baby. I’m so goddamn sorry. I’d take that back if I could. If anyone ever tried to take you from me, I’d lie, cheat, and kill to get you back.”
Greer buries her face in my neck, and I expect an emotional scene. Instead, I feel teeth against my shoulder just before she bites down.
Wrapping my fist around her hair once again, I tug her head back.