She blinked a few times, adjusting her vision when a memory came to mind. A memory of another swimming pool. Well, more like the image of a man with a stunning smile emerging from the water.
Chris Hunter. Former Navy SEAL. And a handsome flirt.
She’d met Chris at a friend’s house back home in Alabama in June. And when he’d stood before her, dripping wet and much too close for comfort, she’d had what felt like an out-of-body experience.
He probably hadn’t noticed how off guard he’d caught her with those blue eyes of his, laced with flecks of green. But that gorgeous man had taken her breath away. She’d hid it well given they had an audience, and looking back, apparently too well. He never did look her up after they’d hung out that night, brief as it was. He couldn’t exactly make a move with her brother and friends there, but she’d hoped he would have asked A.J. for her number and called. A hot and fun weekend for whenever she was back in the country, perhaps.
Of course, she wasn’t exactly that reachable. Maybe he had called.
Her brain must have gotten scrambled by the taser because her thoughts right now weren’t about her family and how heartbroken they’d be if she were to die tonight, but rather on a man she’d met one summer night who hadn’t called her for a date.
One summer night. Wasn’t that the title of a romance novel? It sounded like the kind of books her friend Savanna always tried to get her to read, promising they would change her skeptical opinion on love.
Rory’s stomach hurt at the thought of her friend. Savanna had suffered a devastating loss when her Navy SEAL husband had been killed in action. No, her friend couldn’t handle any more grief.
I can’t die, damn it. Rory looked to the person standing over her, and she blinked just as the bastard tasered her again.
Darkness enveloped her, and when she woke up, with no idea how much time had passed, her vision was blurry.
Her body ached.
The room was cold.
She’d been hungover a few times. Blacked out once from a bit too much celebrating after a major victory. But nothing compared to waking up after electricity fried your body.
“Getting tasered was not on my to-do list tonight,” she sputtered, a lame attempt at being a smart-ass and not letting some asshole get the best of her.
Rory tried to move her hands. Her feet. But she was strapped to a chair.
The mere act of moving her eyeballs to view her surroundings hurt like hell, but her vision was beginning to clear. Concrete floors, walls, and a ceiling low enough to give the room a suffocating vibe. Great, a torture chamber.
She glimpsed her brown wig on the floor by her bare feet. Her hockey mask lay upside down next to it.
She stared in a daze at the pink color on her toenails. Pink toenails seemed glaringly out of place in a room where she was about to be tortured and killed.
A paw of a hand grabbed hold of her chin, forcing her to look up. His other hand yanked at her blonde hair, pulling the pins free to allow her locks to fall.
The sound of a round being chambered in a firearm had her eying another man to her left. On her right, a guy held a camera.
“Let her go.” A deep voice boomed from somewhere in the room. The words bounced off the walls like a dark, terrifying echo.
Her body tensed. A shudder of fear blanketed her at the sound of that deep, husky tone.
It was him, wasn’t it?
The voice belonged to the owner of the estate, Carter Dominick. Ex-spook. Former Delta guy who’d gone rogue. He was also an all-around asshole and criminal from what she’d heard.
Footsteps neared, and the men around her fell back.
Dark shoes appeared, but the dangling light hanging just in front of her obscured her view of his face.
Black dress pants encased long legs. A white dress shirt was tucked into his pants. Sleeves rolled to the elbows to expose ink she couldn’t try and analyze at the moment. And why would it matter?
“I had contemplated waiting a bit longer to grab you and see how good you really are firsthand. I got impatient, though.” He stepped closer, the light from the single bulb now behind him, revealing his face. His identity. “And it was me that brought you here.”
“What?” Had she been set up? No, her partner would never. Maybe the guy who provided the details of the location? But she’d gone through a middleman, and no one would know it was her who’d been hunting for this property since it was off-the-grid, or why she’d been seeking it. “I don’t understand.” She deepened the tone of her voice to hide any hints of her Southern accent to prevent him from discovering anything personal about her.
No names in her work. No real names ever. Not even for her partner.
She did whatever she could to protect her family from this life.
Carter brought a hand to his black beard, which was closely trimmed to his angular jaw. Late thirties. His eyes hardened from years in the service, probably long before he went astray from the CIA. His broad shoulders pinned back as he stood tall before her. “My men weren’t supposed to be so rough. I apologize.”
“Apologize?” she asked in disbelief.
“I’ve been waiting to come face-to-face with you. You’re worth a fortune, you know.” His voice was cold and deep. Commanding. “Especially to one man in particular.”
Rory froze at Carter’s statement, and a slice of panic cut through her as she kept her attention riveted to his dark eyes.
Was this it? Was this how it ended?
In a surprising move that had her swallowing hard, he came closer and knelt before her. His dark hair was a touch spiky. His skin golden from living near the beach, no doubt. When he placed a hand on her knee, she followed his touch but reined in her fear and kept her breathing slow and even.
“Why do you want me? Are you delivering me to him?” She forgot to hide her Southern accent this time. “Doesn’t seem like your style from what I’ve heard about you, but I never thought you’d get in league with a man like him, either.” She was showing some of her cards. Letting him know she knew who he worked for, but what did it matter anymore? If Carter had made the effort to lure her to his home, surely he planned to offer her to his boss, the man pulling the strings for so many.
“I highly doubt you know much about me.” His statement slid under her skin and struck her in the heart. The words imbued with sadness, but why?
She dragged her gaze back up to his dark eyes and found emptiness—loneliness in his irises. Not the eerie, lust-filled look other assholes had given her, and this wasn’t her first time being tied up, either. Although maybe it ought to be her last. Her family and friends were right. It was time to settle down.
No one back home had the slightest clue what Rory did when she was off traveling the globe. But she’d need to survive the night if she intended to heed Savanna’s advice and become a tree. Or maybe she’d said Rory needed to plant roots. They’d both been tipsy on champagne at the time, and Rory was too out of it at the moment to remember exactly.
“But no, I don’t work for that man. It was simply how I lured you here. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist that tasty morsel.” A smile on his lips faded fast. “I don’t work for anyone.”
Could she believe him? Probably not. “Why?” She kept her head high, hoping to stamp out any fear in her tone.