Heart of Danger (8 page)

“You will never escape me,” he whispered before sliding his tongue over the curve of her ear. “Only in death,” he whispered and then licked her earlobe before catching it with his teeth and gently nipping it. “You are mine now.” He released her arm and sat back in his seat as if he had accomplished some victory.

“I will never be yours.” Her defiance was evident in her tone. She would never belong to him.

“How unfortunate for you,” he glared at her. “Because it will make things much more difficult for you once I get you home.” He reached his hand up and wrapped his fingers around the ponytail holder in her hair before yanking it out and sending her softened tresses onto her back. Then he slipped his fingers into her hair and yanked her head back so hard she couldn’t contain the sharp cry that escaped her lips. She didn’t want to let him know when he hurt her, or frightened her, but she had done just that. He chuckled before releasing her and settling himself in his seat again.

“When you are in my presence you will wear your hair as I want it. You will wear the clothes I want you to wear. I would like to see your legs, not the fabric of these ugly pants.”

They weren’t ugly pants. They were cargo pants made for hiking in the outback, which was why she had bought them when she and Kelly went shopping. The thought of Kelly sent sorrow cascading through her heart. She felt the tears stinging her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry, not here, not now. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of even thinking he had done this to her.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Micah put the gun straight down against the man’s crotch. “Where is she?”

The man in front of him grinned baring his gold capped tooth and several yellow stained ones in the front row. “Gone,” he chuckled.

Micah pulled the trigger and the man howled. “So you won’t be using that again,” he watched the man wither in pain. “I blew off a nut.” He didn’t care if he killed this man. This man was the enemy. “Talk or I’ll pick another spot. Like maybe your hand,” he placed the gun against the back of the man’s hand that had been bound at the wrist to the chair.

“Valdez took her an hour ago. They go to the deserted airfield” He whined.

“An hour,” Alex’s concern was evident. “We have to move.”

They couldn’t stick around for the authorities. They left the men tied up, and he left Mr. Gold Tooth just sitting there. “He wasn’t talking fast enough,” Micah mumbled as Preston stared at him in disbelief.

They all had their tactics, and usually his wasn’t as violent. But violence was not beneath him, and when it came to saving a friend he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

They got to the deserted airfield just in time to see Natalia, off in the distance, struggling with two really big men. “Hit the gas,” Jet mumbled. They were still too far away to help and that struggle was not going to last long. In fact, it was already over because one of the men had punched her so hard it looked like an immediate lights out situation. He tossed her over his shoulder and boarded the plane. The doors closed and the plane quickly started to taxi, as if they were just waiting to make a fast getaway in case the authorities showed up due to their drug running. They had probably managed some payments before boarding. That had to be the only thing that had them still on the strip instead of in the air.

Micah fired off a couple shots, but from their distance it didn’t do any good. Had they been in front of the plane, heading toward it and not behind it chasing it, maybe then they could have stopped it. He could have put a bullet through the front of the plane, something…he could have done something more. But as the small jet lifted off he, just like everybody else in their jeep, knew it was too late.

“We know who he is. We know where he’s going. We’ll get her, Micah.” Jet placed a hand on Micah’s shoulder. “We’ll get her back.”

At what cost; he wondered. What cost would she pay for their inability to stop that plane from taking off? “How soon can we get there?”

“I have to clear our entry. I know people. We’ll be able to get everything in; don’t worry.” Preston was a man with contacts in almost every country. Fortunately the people he knew were either on the legal side of the fence, or at least playing it straight for their side. They respected him; some of them owed him a debt for him saving their life. Whatever it took, whatever they had to pay out, Micah didn’t care. He would take it out of the company funds just so long as they brought Natalia home alive.

Tensions were high now and they were racing against the clock. He knew their first mission, their first priority was to rescue her and bring her home, but at the top of his list was his need to spare her any further pain than she already had experienced. Losing her friend, watching her die, because he was sure she had watched the carnage around her and he knew how close she was to Kelly; those two were probably glued to each other when all hell broke loose. That was one level of pain, being held prisoner was another. He knew the feelings that went through a person, the thoughts that ran rampant in their mind because he had been there. The difference was he was trained to survive; trained to combat whatever hell he was in and to mentally shake it off and move forward. She didn’t have that training; she didn’t have previous experience that would help prepare her mind for the battle that would come. He would not, and he meant that with everything inside of him; he would not let that bastard violate her. They had to move faster. They had to get there and get her out. Failure was not an option.

Chapter Six

“T
hat dress looks good on you.” Diego walked into the room he had her locked inside. The bars on the window were just another clue to her that he had done this before; holding a woman prisoner in his home was probably one of his favorite pastimes. He had set up a lavish bedroom, complete with canopy bed draped in soft shades of blue and pink, a love seat in the corner and the perfect vanity area, as if this suite was built for royalty. The bathroom had a walk-in shower, and the closet had no shortage of clothes. Yes, he had done this before. She wondered how many women had died in this place. How many women had he used up in that bed and then threw away? She didn’t want to be one of those women.

He had brought her straight to this room, keeping his men with guns trained on her right there to let her know who was in charge. He opened the doors to the lavish closet filled with an abundance of extravagant, and somewhat elegant, clothing. “Dinner,” he had told her, “will be served soon.” She didn’t like hearing those words. Maybe she could eat, maybe she was hungry, but dinner meant night would soon fall and when that happened she was sure he would want to fall between her legs with it.

He had picked out a long, pale yellow formal gown. The beading was hand done; she could tell that just by looking at it. The dress was probably worth thousands and it was gorgeous. Under other circumstances she may have been able to enjoy the garment, but right now she couldn’t.

“One in every size?” She really had to learn how to keep her mouth shut.

He laughed. “I keep a wide range of sizes to fit the women I know I will like. You looked to be the size of a woman who would fit that dress. Although you are a little shorter. I shall have the tailor come to fix the clothes I want you to wear.”

Great, so he was planning on keeping her around long enough to need a tailor…yeah, that was sarcasm in her heart and her mind. The dress was a little longer on her than it would have been on somebody a few inches taller, but it wasn’t so horrible that she would find it difficult to walk—why? Because he had given her a pair of five inch stiletto heels. She would gather he wanted to make sure she couldn’t run away. Run? She could barely walk in this things. Four inch was her maximum heel navigation capability and rarely did she buy the four inchers. Usually she went for the three inch because it was more comfortable and easier to navigate in.

“You should have done something more with your hair.”

“Why? It’s not like I want to be here.” If this were a date she wanted to be on then she would have taken the time to fix her hair up and put on a little makeup, but she didn’t want to be here, and she saw no need to placate the man on that level.

“Because I say so,” he took hold of her arm and manhandled her over to the vanity. He pulled out a four inch bladed knife from behind his back and slid the cool steel down her arm. “I can cut you up slowly; make you suffer for days, or I can provide you some creature comforts. The choice is yours.”

He waited for her to make a decision. She was torn because she didn’t want to die, and she definitely didn’t want to die painfully, but she didn’t want to help him have any sense of pleasure at her expense.

She picked up the sterling silver decorative inlay brush and started to brush her hair into submission. The great thing about having thick hair was that she could manage it into a very fun, flirty or sexy up-do depending on her mood. She didn’t really want any of those looks tonight, but she had to do something with her hair.

She brushed it up to the top of her head and then used the decorative bobby pins he had laying in the dresser drawer. Yes, he had done this before—a lot apparently. When she finished securing her hair she looked up at him.

“Now the makeup,” he ordered. “Not too much of it. You have beautiful skin. Just use some of this eye stuff and the lips…paint the lips red.”

She ran her fingers along the numerous color options sitting on the long end of the vanity. She had to get out of the chair to walk down toward the end of the table and find something that would look good with her skin. Clearly he liked darker women because everything really could work, but some would fit better than others. She picked a subtle shade called Soft Sable, but he wasn’t happy with that. He took it from her hand and picked up the Decadent Gold instead. “This,” he mumbled against her ear. His body pressed up against her back and she could feel his erection. Oh hell, she was in trouble now. She couldn’t remember much of what happened before goon number one knocked her out. She remembered kneeing Diego in the groin and trying to run, but the bodyguard got her. She kicked and tried to fight even with her hands tied behind her back. Then she remembered taking a fist in the face that had bruised her as well as knocked her out. She thought she heard somebody yell, “car,” but she couldn’t be sure. She had hoped, but now she wasn’t sure at all if she would be found, if she could be saved, or if she could save herself.

“Tomorrow I will ravish you,” he slid his free hand to her breast and fondled her softly—a contradiction to the man who had been so rough with her already. She had expected he would be more animal than human in this regard. “You are too tired for what I plan to do to you and I will not be denied the privilege of hearing you scream with all the things I will do,” he licked her earlobe again. The man seemed to like licking ears.

“Now finish. Dinner is waiting for us in what I am sure will be the most beautiful room you have ever eaten in.”

She applied the hint of eye shadow. She didn’t need liner because her lashes were naturally thick and dark and they made her eyes appear as if they were lined even when she didn’t use liner. She painted her lips red like he wanted. It was hideous in her opinion. She hated red lipstick on her—especially the striking reds. She looked like a clown meets high class escort. Her lips were always better when bathed in a subtle shade of some variation of soft mauve-pink or a deep burgundy red. Flaming red was not her color, but he seemed to like it because he did nothing less than rave about his choice. He wanted her to like it too. When she didn’t say anything, or give any hint of agreement, he clasped hold of her arm and jerked her toward him.

“I said it is beautiful, wouldn’t you agree;” he stated again.

“I look better with softer shades.” He could stroke his own ego. She had a brain and she wasn’t going to let him turn her into some weak mouse that only formed the opinion he wanted her to.