by Elle Kennedy
She hated this. Hated feeling so out of control. Not having any power over her hormones or the thoughts that kept floating into her head.
“You lied to me the other day,” he said, pinning her down with a forceful stare. “You said you didn’t feel anything when you were on your knees in front of me.”
“I didn’t,” she whispered.
“You did,” he corrected. “And I think you feel something now.” He didn’t loosen his grip on her waist, only strengthened it, and the warmth of his hands seared through her flimsy boxer shorts. “Your skin is hot to the touch, Abby. And I can see your pulse throbbing in your throat. You’re turned on.”
“I’m… not.” The words awkwardly stumbled out of her mouth.
He took a long breath. “Control issues again.”
“I don’t have control issues.”
He lifted one hand and placed it on her chin. Tipped it up so she had no choice but to look at him. “It makes you feel powerless, doesn’t it? You want me, you can’t fight it, and it makes you crazy.”
The cotton returned to her mouth. She swallowed it down. “Maybe I just don’t treat sex as casually as you do.”
“Oh no, it’s all about control.” He dipped his head so that his breath tickled the bridge of her nose.
She didn’t know where he was going with this, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. “Kane…”
“Control can be a very good thing to have, but sometimes you need to let go. Why don’t we try to see if you can let go, Abby?”
A tremor of fear scurried through her. “I…”
“Please.” His voice became rough. “Just close your eyes and let me make you feel good. Who will it hurt?”
Me! she wanted to shout.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly. “For once in your life, lower your guard and let yourself feel something, damn it.”
Before she could register what was happening, his mouth covered hers in a kiss.
Abby’s body turned to jelly. Knees buckled. Heart pounded. Kane’s mouth was hot and firm and terrifying.
He rubbed his lips over hers, once, twice, soft little brushes that sent shock waves sizzling through her nerve endings. The heat of his lips slithered into her mouth and down her chest, warming her breasts, hardening her nipples, settling into a pool of liquid between her thighs.
He deepened the kiss and she nearly burst into flames. His tongue coaxed her lips open. She tried to clamp her lips together, restrict his access, but her mouth wasn’t responding to the furious orders of her brain. Kane’s tongue slid inside with one sensual stroke. Her heart thudded. Her mind screamed for her to pull away, but she couldn’t. She was helpless to stop this, and she felt herself drowning in his mouth, in his kiss, that greedy and wild and all-consuming kiss.
He caressed the small of her back, then moved lower to cup her bottom. His touch was electric. It burned, teased, drawing out her pleasure as his tongue explored her mouth. The attraction she felt for him transcended common sense. She felt dizzy. Powerless.
It was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her entire life.
And it scared the shit out of her.
Breathing hard, Abby wrenched her mouth away from his and stumbled backward. “Why did you do that?” she stammered.
“Because I wanted to.” He studied her face. “You liked it.”
She wanted to utter an impassioned denial but the words refused to come out.
He went on, his voice hoarse. “I could feel your heart pounding against my chest. I could feel you trembling. I could taste your need. Let me kiss you again, Abby.”
Yes.
“No,” she blurted out. No, she couldn’t let that happen again. Couldn’t lose herself in that strange rush of pleasure again.
She thought he would push the issue, force another terrifying kiss on her, but to her surprise he didn’t. He just exhaled a resigned breath, then bent down to gather up the mats before carrying them across the gym and placing them on top of the stack. Abby stared at him in bewilderment. Maybe he hadn’t liked the kiss enough for a repeat performance. The thought brought a flicker of relief and a weird jolt of irritation.
As he walked back to her, a question she hadn’t planned on asking—one she hadn’t even considered before—flew out of her mouth. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
His eyes immediately became shuttered. “Relationships don’t interest me,” he said in a light tone.
Suspicion flooded her gut. “Why not?”
“Because they don’t.” He headed for the door. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. I’m beat after that workout.”
“No way.” She marched after him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve been trying to pry into my psyche since the day we met. And I—” She took a breath. “I told you about my mother, about the day I—” She forced aside the memory. “Don’t I deserve some answers of my own?”
He didn’t respond.
“You expect me to open up to you, yet you’re not willing to return the favor.”
“So we’re back to that, exchanging favors?” Bitterness hardened his face. “What, you’ll go to bed with me if I share my deep, dark secrets?”
Abby tightened her jaw. “Forget it,” she muttered. “I don’t want to know your secrets.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yep.” She gave him a sugary smile. “And I don’t want to kiss you again either.”
Without another word, she walked out of the gym.
It was a scorching-hot morning, the humidity suspended in the air like a thick fog. Abby drank her coffee out on the terrace, warily glancing over at Luke, who was devouring the plate of bacon and eggs Lloyd had prepared for him. With Isabel and Trevor in the living room coordinating cover stories, Ethan in town picking up some documents they’d need, and Kane, D, and Morgan off doing God knows what, Abby was alone with Luke, who’d popped a pair of iPod earphones into his ears and was bobbing his head as he ate.
Why weren’t any of them sitting down to plan the extraction? She’d given Kane the entire layout of Blanco’s compound yesterday and he hadn’t done a damn thing with it. Was she the only one who actually cared about the well-being of those girls?
She looked at Luke’s dark head, moving to the beat of his music, and let out an annoyed breath. “Seriously,” she said loudly. “Don’t you have a rescue to plan?”
He pulled out his earphones and shot her a quizzical look. “Huh?”
“I said, don’t you have a rescue to plan?”
Luke grinned, his straight white teeth gleaming in the sunshine. “Izzy said you were impatient. Guess she was right.”
Izzy? He was now on nickname basis with a woman he’d met only yesterday? The thought brought a flash of envy to her belly. How did Isabel do it, charm every man she met? Abby could charm too—when she was pretending to be someone else. But as herself, she was unable to form the kind of connections Isabel did.
“We can’t do anything until Trev and Iz score an invite to the auction,” Luke added, his voice oddly gentle. “We have no idea where the girls are going to be when it all goes down. We need our eyes on the inside giving us the proper details before we figure out the best way to extract.”
His words made sense, but did nothing to alleviate her impatience.
“Don’t worry. The second we finalize anything, you’ll know,” Luke assured her.
She offered a cool look. “Good.”
Spearing some scrambled eggs onto his fork, he popped them in his mouth, chewed slowly, then said, “So, where’d you grow up?”
An alarm went off inside her. “Why do you want to know?”
He stared at her for a moment as if she’d grown horns. “Because that’s what people do, ask each other things. Where’re you from, do you like your job, what’s your family like…” He trailed off, wrinkling his forehead. “Haven’t you ever had a conversation with another person?”
Embarrassment crept through her. He was right. That was what
people did. Normal people, anyway.
“California,” she said reluctantly.
He looked pleased that she’d answered. “LA?”
“Until I was eight. Then all over the state before I was adopted. My adoptive father lived in Bakersfield.”
“Jeremy Thomas,” Luke said with a nod. “Morgan told us about him.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, but not much. Morgan said he was an ex-Ranger, made him sound like a legend or something.”
“He was good at what he did,” she admitted.
Luke hesitated for a moment. “How did he die?”
A lump of pain lodged in her throat. “Lung cancer. I always told him he needed to quit smoking, but he thought he was invincible.”
“Everyone thinks they’re invincible.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
A short silence fell, interrupted by a loud vibrating noise. Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, frowning. “Not mine.”
He leaned over to the chair next to his, which Kane had occupied before heading off with Morgan. “Shit, Kane left his phone here,” he said, reaching down and lifting a sleek Motorola flip phone from the chair. A glance at the screen deepened Luke’s frown. Slowly, he opened the phone. “Kane’s phone,” he said curtly. A pause, then his frown twisted into a grimace. “Devlin.”
Abby felt the color draining from her face. Devlin? Why the hell was Devlin calling Kane’s phone? And why didn’t Luke seem the least bit surprised?
“Kane already told you, there’s no woman here.” Luke’s voice had changed from careless and teasing to utterly frosty. “You’ve been misinformed.”
Despite the sudden trembling of her body, Abby found herself reaching out her hand. “Let me talk to him,” she said.
Luke shot her a no way look. “Stop calling us, Devlin. It’s getting fucking annoying.”
Abby raised her voice. “Let. Me. Talk to him.”
“What? No,” Luke said into the receiver. “That was just—”
She was on her feet and snatching the cell from Luke’s hand before he could blink. Pressing the phone to her ear, she squared her shoulders and said, “What do you want, Devlin?”
The delight in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew they were hiding you away, luv. Tell me, how’s my beautiful Erica doing? Or should I call you Abby?”
Shit. How had he found out her real name?
“What do you want?” she repeated.
“I just wanted to hear your lovely voice.” He paused. “And I also had a question for you.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” she said sullenly.
“Did it hurt when Leon Garcia sodomized your seven-year-old virgin ass?”
All the air swept out of her lungs in one fast rush. Horror slammed into her, a tidal wave that had her sagging against the table. As her legs shook like trees in a windstorm, she collapsed into the nearest chair. Stunned. God, how did he know about Garcia?
“You still there, luv?”
She clenched her teeth. “I’m still here.”
“Then answer the question.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Beside her, Luke’s dark eyes were swimming with concern. He tried to take the phone from her, but she swatted his hand away.
“See, I had the pleasure of paying a visit to an old friend of yours yesterday,” Devlin said cheerfully. “Dr. Silverton—does the name ring a bell?”
Abby worked hard to keep her nausea at bay. “If you hurt her, I’ll—”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he interrupted. “The doctor is safe and sound. I did, however, liberate some very interesting reading material from her office.”
Her files. Dear God, he had her files.
“Now, this is what intrigues me. I listened to the first tape last night, luv. I heard all about Garcia and how he fucked you. Lord, you remembered every last detail, didn’t you, Abby?”
Her fingers shook wildly against the phone.
“But you left out so many curious things,” he went on. “Like how it felt. Why you didn’t fight back.”
“How do you think it felt?” she spat out, the vehemence in her tone making Luke jump.
Jumping to his feet, Luke stormed off the terrace, no doubt to find the cavalry. She barely noticed his departure. She was too focused on Devlin’s merciless voice, the sheer pleasure he seemed to derive from this conversation.
“And you couldn’t fight back, could you, luv? You were an innocent little girl, and he was a big bad rapist.”
“What do you want?” she hissed out, determined not to let his words affect her. That part of her life was over. Buried. She refused to let him hurt her with the past.
“You. I want you.”
“You’ll never get me.” She got great satisfaction saying the words. “You’ll never find me.”
“Sure I will.” He suddenly sounded enraged. “And I will punish you for what you did to me.”
“How’s the eye?” she asked innocently.
“You fucking bitch.” He was breathing heavily now. “Do you truly think I’m going to let you get away with that? I’m already tracking down Morgan’s whereabouts as we speak. It’s only a matter of time before I find him.”
“Then I’ll leave,” she said, a laugh slipping out. “I’ll leave here and disappear, and you won’t find me.”
“I will find you.” His breathing steadied and when he spoke again, he sounded calm. “And until I do, I’m going to keep calling. I’m so very curious about your life, luv. Did all the foster fathers rape you the way Garcia did? Did Jeremy Thomas?”
She ignored that. “Call all you want. I won’t pick up.”
“But you will,” he corrected. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to pay another visit to Dr. Silverton. And this time I won’t break into an empty office. I’ll make sure the doctor is in.”
Bile coated her throat. “Don’t you touch her, Devlin.”
“That all depends on you. You’ll pick up the phone when I call again, won’t you, Abby?”
Gulping down a wave of sickness, she thought of Amanda Silverton’s kind gray eyes, the way she’d sat quietly and let Abby talk, without once pushing her to reveal more than she wanted. If anything happened to Dr. Silverton, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
“Yes,” she choked out. “I’ll pick up.”
“Wonderful. Let me tell you, I can’t wait to delve deeper into your past. I’m about to listen to the next session on the tape. Will it feature Garcia, or maybe Ted Hartford, the man who used to break your fingers when you refused to—”
The phone was ripped out of her hand. She blinked in surprise, shocked to see Kane looming over her, his green eyes flashing with unrestrained fury. “What the hell are you doing?”
It took her a couple of seconds to snap out of the panicked trance Devlin had sent her into. “W-what?”
“Why did you take the call?” he fumed. “William Devlin is a sick sociopath who gets off on tormenting others! How could you sit there and listen to his filth?”
She didn’t answer.
Kane softened his tone. Kneeling at her feet, he looked up to meet her eyes. “What did he say to you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “And he didn’t say anything I didn’t already know.”
“He’s after revenge,” Kane said darkly.
She stood up, her legs a tad rubbery. “Yep.”
Kane eyed her in suspicion. “Anything else?”
“No,” she lied. She headed toward the sliding door, then glanced over her shoulder. “If he calls again, let me talk to him.”
“Abby—”
“Just let me talk to him.”
“Why, for fuck’s sake?”
She let out a weary breath. “Because Devlin and I have unfinished business.”
Chapter 11
Trev
or had barely said two words to her since they’d landed at Aeropuerto Internacional El Dorado, Bogotá’s major airport. Hadn’t helped carry her bags either. Before they’d left Mexico, Morgan assured her he’d spoken with Trevor and everything was fine, that Trevor understood exactly what was required of him for this gig.
Isabel wasn’t as confident about that. She’d run into men like Trevor Callaghan before, men who’d lost everything they cared about, men who had nothing left to live for. And as much as she would’ve liked to view him as her partner in crime, she knew she was all alone in this mission. She couldn’t trust Callaghan to have her back, which meant she needed to work extra hard to stay alive.
Trevor remained quiet as they walked out of the airport terminal and into the late-afternoon sunshine. He didn’t speak as they got in line at the taxi stand, as they hopped a cab that took them to Morgan’s uptown safe house. Still didn’t utter a word even when he unlocked the door and led her into the modestly furnished living room.
Isabel gritted her teeth. Jeez. How much longer was she supposed to put up with this crap? Yesterday he’d been more obliging, actually sitting down with her so they could learn everything they needed to know about each other’s alternate personas. This morning, though, he’d turned into a mute. When Isabel had said good-bye to Abby back at Morgan’s compound, the woman had reassured her that Callaghan was a pro, but Isabel wasn’t so sure. He may have been a pro in his former life, but right now, with his disheveled hair and empty eyes, she couldn’t see how he’d ever be an asset.
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “When are you going to call Esposito?”
Trevor blinked as if emerging from some kind of hypnotic state. “What?” he said roughly.
“Esposito,” she repeated, fighting back annoyance. “We need to set up a meeting with him, which means you need to call him.”
“I have to make a few preparations first.”
That was it. Without even looking her way, he slung the black duffel he’d carried on the plane over his shoulder and strode toward the narrow hallway that probably led to the bedrooms.