She thought about her last phone conversation with Travis. He had been traveling and promised they’d have a deep conversation about taking their relationship “to the next level” as soon as he returned. Would they ever have that conversation?
As much as Maddy wanted to believe in happy endings, she was first and foremost a realist. Even if the Agency had Dr. Rufin as her abductors claimed, the CIA would never negotiate with the enemy. Maddy’s bottom line was painfully clear: No cavalry was coming to rescue her. She was on her own.
A noise outside the door caught her attention. The guard snapped his fingers and motioned for her to
stand. Maddy did so, tugging the robe down as best she could.
Two guards entered the room, followed by a fifty-something man wearing a suit and tie. That the man wore multiple gold bracelets on both wrists and had a thick ring on every finger ruined the effect of the Dolce & Gabbana suit.
It also tipped off the man’s identity. The drug lord Minh Tran supposedly wore a ring for each wife who bore him a son. The bracelets represented men he’d killed.
Over the course of her job, Maddy had done research on Minh Tran. The photographs she’d seen of him were few and not recent. The passage of time had not been kind. His face was rounder, the skin loose below his chin, but his eyes were unmistakable. Fierce and cruel.
Tran ignored her at first, listening as the guard spoke in a hushed tone. Then Tran nodded and began speaking to her in Thai.
Maddy looked around, uncertain how to respond. When no one translated, she realized it was a test to see if she understood the language. He’d probably just threatened her with something horrible to get a reaction.
She wished she could stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks, but she was too scared, too tired, too sick to muster the effort.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. And I want to go home.”
Tran barked out a command and a pretty Thai woman was escorted into the room. Maddy guessed
the woman was close to her own age, twenty-five or twenty-six.
“This is your nurse, Sunlee.” Minh Tran’s sudden switch to English surprised Maddy. “She speaks English, too. While you are here, you will do everything she instructs. My concern is with your child. Do you understand?”
The implication that Maddy was not of concern was clear. She nodded, but Tran had already turned away to speak with another of the guards. Sunlee watched Tran with reverent adoration. Did the young woman hope to become another ring on Tran’s fingers?
“Look at me, Madison.” Tran stepped closer.
Maddy met his gaze, unable to prevent herself from flinching when his eyes dropped and openly ogled her breasts before slowly raking back up.
“There are ways you can increase your value. If you please me, I can be reasonable,” Tran said.
It was all she could do not to show revulsion over his sexual invitation. Tran lifted his hand and two guards moved in to flank her. Maddy stiffened. Had Tran picked up on her disgust? Would these men subdue her while Tran abused her?
Bile rose in Maddy’s throat. She looked around frantically. If she vomited on Tran’s shoes what would he do?
“These men will take you to your new quarters,” Tran said. “We will speak again soon.”
Laredo, TX
October 5, 5:30 A.M.
Morning hard-ons were a normal part of Rocco’s life. His body’s equivalent of running a sound check.
Testing. Testing. All systems go.
He reveled in it.
And if he woke up with a willing female, so much the better. A duet was a glorious way to start the day.
But this morning’s sound check went awry, disrupting his system with a squelch of disturbing feedback. He knew immediately that his equipment worked fine; he had a hard-on for the record books. He also had a female in his bed. The same female who had dominated his dreams last night.
Gena Armstrong. Former real-life love and all-time favorite fantasy. AKA The Heartbreaker. AKA Damsel in Distress.
The problem wasn’t Gena, per se. It was her hands. She had somehow managed to loosen his jeans, shoved them down enough to allow her hot little
fingers to tunnel in. Just like she had in one of his dreams.
Right now she had a grip on his cock that was painful. Painful good. Did her subconscious remember that he liked a firm touch?
She made a soft noise in her sleep.
Testing. Testing.
Then she twitched, clutching him even tighter.
All systems go.
Holy God! He gritted his teeth, afraid to move, to breathe, for fear of shooting off. This was a mistake. Except … how to fix?
His Inner Idiot decided to do a visual check. Even bigger mistake. Gena was sleeping soundly, all snuggled up against his side, using his bare chest as a pillow. Her mouth was open and so close to his nipple he felt her warm breath.
One of her legs was lying over his. Correction: it was practically entwined around his. And her contortions had hiked up the shirt she wore, confirming that she was naked beneath. Well, actually, his hand cupping her ass had confirmed that, but hey, his hand wasn’t the problem.
Hers was.
If he were a gentleman, he’d remove her hand from his cock while simultaneously tugging her shirt down. A gentleman probably wouldn’t be wishing that her shirt would creep up farther. Or that she’d twitch again.
And then she did.
Her grip tightened, her hand tugging upward along his shaft. Oh, yes. Oh, yes.
No.
It dawned on him that the question wasn’t whether he was a gentleman, but whether he was a masochist.
It was torture lying still, not reaching to touch her in return.
His heart thudded dully in his chest, reminding him of where the real pain was. He had never gotten over Gena. Had never gotten over the way they’d broken up. Had never had a chance to speak his mind. Or apologize. Or make amends.
And her? Had she ever really cared? Did she ever dream about the good times they’d shared or had she let it go? The way he needed to let it go.
The past was ancient history. Most of it anyway. The part that had resurfaced had nearly killed Gena. Which was why they were together again. Because Rocco had sworn to keep her safe.
Period.
She wiggled just then, releasing his cock and breaking the spell. She shifted her leg higher and immediately stiffened.
Rocco knew she was awake. He debated playing possum, faking sleep to give her a chance to extricate herself. But damn if he wanted to, especially since she wasn’t scrambling away.
Instead he lay there, watching as she lifted her head to look down at their legs. When she turned to look at him, she drew a sharp breath, seeing that he was awake.
Rocco silently counted to three, ample time for her to make her move.
She didn’t. So he made his.
He lifted his hand to the back of her neck, then drew her close for a kiss. He purposely kept it soft and tentative, monitoring her response, ready to end it at the first sign of resistance.
Gena mowed him down, as if she couldn’t get close enough. Her mouth opened, welcoming and eager.
It was all Rocco needed. He lifted her onto his chest, shoving his jeans lower in the process. A lovely moan escaped as she took over the kiss, her hands on either side of his face, holding him still as she drew his tongue fully into her mouth.
His hands snaked beneath her shirt, brushing it upward along her ribs, exposing her breasts briefly before cupping them. Gena gasped with pleasure, pressing fully into his hands, encouraging his play. He caught her nipples, tugged them lightly.
She bucked, rubbing her crotch against him. He dropped his hands to her hips, encouraging her to spread her legs, wanting her to feel the extent of his arousal. Gena straddled him, scalding his flesh with hers. She rolled her hips, thrusting herself against his shaft.
He echoed the motion, his cock growing harder and longer with each stroke. Gena deepened the kiss, sucking his tongue while dragging her nipples across his chest.
Rocco knew she was as close to the edge as he. The thought of thrusting his cock up inside her and—
The phone on the nightstand rang, startling both of them with its shrill noise. Gena pulled away, shattering the spell.
“I’m … I’m sorry!” She rolled away from him and climbed out of the bed. “That’s my wake-up call.”
“Gena—”
“Please!” That she already regretted what had happened was obvious.
Rocco grabbed the receiver and slammed it back down, silencing it.
“Gena.”
“Rocco.”
They spoke in unison. He motioned for her to go first.
“I’m … embarrassed. That was … stress. It shouldn’t have happened,” she said.
A stress fuck. That took the wind out of his sails. “Well, it did happen. And we were both willing participants.”
“I wasn’t implying otherwise.” She tugged nervously at the hem of her shirt. His shirt. That she was on the verge of tears deflated his anger.
His gaze took in her bandaged wrist, reminding him that she was the injured party.
Damn it, this wasn’t about what used to be. He was supposed to protect her.
“I apologize,” he said. “You’re right. And I give you my word that it won’t happen again.”
She opened her mouth, then simply nodded. “I’m … going to take a shower.”
“Fine. I need to check for e-mail and phone messages before we leave.”
As Gena gathered clean clothes, Rocco pretended to be engrossed in firing up his laptop. When she finally disappeared into the bathroom, he was left feeling like a tyrant.
Rather than try to analyze why, Rocco got dressed and packed his bag.
While waiting for his laptop to make a secure connection, he activated his cell phone. The phone beeped, the display showing two missed calls. One from Cat, one from Dante. Both left callback numbers.
Rocco called Dante first. Both men were early risers.
“I hoped you’d call,” Dante said.
“What’s up? Are you and Max still in Tennessee?”
“We’re back in D.C.,” Dante said. “I’ve got a couple updates for you. Cat tried to reach you last night. Your nephew left the safe house. Adele thinks he went to meet his girlfriend. We’re trying to trace them by cell phones, but in the meantime Adele won’t relocate without him.”
“Damn it! I’ll kill him.” Didn’t Billy realize his antics could endanger his girlfriend as well? Rocco pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe Rocco needed to level with his sister and nephew—give them a better idea of the danger they faced. “I’ll call Adele. And when you find Billy, I want to talk to him.”
“Actually, Cat or someone else will have to work that. We’ve finally got news on Taz, but it’s not good. He tracked Erin Houston to Springfield, Massachusetts, and has taken her hostage. Taz wants her to lead him to Rufin.”
“Jesus! How is Max handling that?”
“Initially he went apeshit but he’s since been able to monitor enough of Erin’s thoughts to know she’s unharmed. Their connection keeps breaking, however, and Max suspects Taz is drugging her.”
Rocco didn’t understand how the whole head connection thing worked, but he knew he wouldn’t like it.
“If Taz wants Erin to bring him to Rufin, then they’re likely headed your way,” Rocco said.
“We’re setting up surveillance at Rufin’s old location, where Erin last worked with him.”
“Damn. I feel helpless.”
“To a degree, me too. But here’s something else you need to know. The Thai government doubled the reward on your head, which has stirred interest
with some of the international bounty hunters. We’ve got reports of one of them nosing around Sugar Springs, looking to pick up your trail. You should think seriously about getting backup.”
“I’ll look into that as soon as we hang up.”
“Then let me give you the last bit of news. From Travis. Minh Tran sent a text to your phone, acknowledging your ‘arrest.’ Said he’ll contact you with a new deadline and instructions. Travis feels certain Minh Tran had your place staked out, probably intended to follow you and grab Rufin before you left D.C.”
“I would have expected as much,” Rocco said. “Did Tran mention anything about Maddy’s fate?”
“Not directly, but Travis doesn’t think Minh Tran is stupid enough to harm Maddy right now. She’s still his only leverage, especially since the attempts on Gena have failed.”
Rocco rubbed his head. “I hope Travis is right. I’ll be in touch.”
After disconnecting, Rocco moved to the small table where his laptop sat. The news that a bounty hunter had traced him to Sugar Springs was worrisome.
He thought about his plan to cross into Mexico. It still seemed the best choice, especially since he and Gena would be using new aliases.
As Dante suggested, it was also time to get help to guard Gena. If Rocco could get her to a secure location in Mexico, he could fly back to D.C. and let himself be spotted there to lure the bounty hunters away from Texas.
Rocco reviewed his mental Rolodex and came up with a person he could trust; an old friend who used to work for INTERPOL in Monterrey, Mexico. A
friend who owed him a favor. The problem was how to get in touch with him. Rocco didn’t want to access his contact list at the office from here. Instead, he’d have Cat do it.
Gena came out of the bathroom.
“Get packed,” Rocco said. “I’d like to leave here while it’s dark.”
“Do you still plan to go to Mexico?”
“Yes. I’m also going to hire a backup security person, Gena. I may have to leave you with him long enough to double back and lay a false trail.”
“I’ll be fine on my own,” Gena began.
“No. You saw what happened to Lupe. And now there are new people joining the search. I’m afraid it’s even more dangerous than before.”
Bangkok, Thailand
October 5, 7:00 A.M.
“The woman is alive.”
Luc Skihawtra’s four-word message gave Travis Franks hope.
It had been tough to think ever since learning that his beloved Maddy was in the hands of Minh Tran. The guilt that ate at Rocco Taylor was nothing compared to what Travis felt. If Travis had been more insistent that he and Maddy go public about their relationship, she wouldn’t be in danger.