PS02 - Without Regret (7 page)

This wasn’t the first time they’d gotten her into trouble. Now as she tried to squirm her way to freedom they wouldn’t squeeze

together.

Actually, it was a bit embarrassing to have her escape attempt foiled because her breasts couldn’t squeeze through the

narrowed space that her shoulders made it through easily.

Isabella squirmed harder, twisted, and turned, determined to make a break for it. She ignored Eric’s bored sigh from

somewhere to her right as she struggled to get loose. All she needed was to get loose and then she’d run for the door and make

it to the road and flag someone down. She could do it, she couldA panicked squeak escaped her as she suddenly found herself

free of her leg prison. The sudden unexpected movement caused her to land on her bag with an, “oomph.” Just as her mind was

registering freedom she found herself suddenly off the floor and tossed over a hard bare shoulder and her bag ripped from her

hands.

What the heck?

“This is so good.”

Isabella pushed her hair back in time to see Madison, who was now happily sitting on the sink counter, finishing the last bite of

her chocolate just as a strong arm clamped down across her lower back, holding her prisoner.

“Put me down!” she demanded and just to make sure he knew that she meant business she added, “Now!” When he didn’t

immediately comply she did what she was hoping not to have to do, she started to kick his ass.

It was too bad he didn’t seem to realize that he was under attack. He simply shifted her weight over his shoulder, clamped a

hand over her legs, and walked her out of the bathroom. She stopped slapping his rather firm butt since it wasn’t working and

decided to take an approach she hadn’t used since she was six years old and Tyler Thompson tried to lock her in the classroom

closet with the class tarantula.

She bit him.

Hard.

“Ow!” Unfortunately he wasn’t the one to yelp out in pain. The ogre beneath her simply grunted at her assault before he swatted

her hard on the butt. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from groaning from the unexpected pleasure. What in the heck was

wrong with her?

“Be nice,” his deep voice warned softly as he gently rubbed the spot he’d just assaulted.

She opened her mouth to remind him that she would be nice if they simply released her when she felt him squeeze her butt.

“Hey!” She swatted his butt. “Stop doing that!”

“I’m just making sure there’s no permanent damage,”

he explained, sounding amused as he rubbed and squeezed her butt again. Somewhere ahead of them in the hall Eric chuckled.

Frustration welled up in her as heat scorched her cheeks. She hated herself at the moment for reacting so strongly to his touch.

It was the drugs they somehow laced her food with. It was the only reason to explain the little moan she had to bite back as he

continued to rub her bottom and she hated him for it.

She hated being taken against her will, hated being flown across state lines, hated being treated like a prisoner and most of all

she hated the way her body was reacting to this jerk beneath her. Then and there she promised herself that they weren’t getting

anything from her and the moment she got her hands back on a computer she was going to make their lives a living hell.

Chapter 5

Seattle, Washington

“Master?”

Logan didn’t bother to look up from the large pile of computer equipment that had been set in front of him ten minutes earlier.

He was still trying to figure out exactly where he went wrong.

The plan had been simple or at least he thought it had.

The only thing he asked of his men was to pick up one small woman at a deserted park in the middle of the night. It was very

simple.

So, then why was he looking at a pile of computer equipment instead of the woman?

“Where is Isabella McGuire?” he asked quietly. He didn’t have to look up to know his men had taken a nervous step back.

He looked up and met the stares of the three men standing in front of him. “Do not make me ask again,”

he said softly. He never yelled at his men. He never had to. They either did what he told them to do or he killed them.

It was a very simple concept.

One he strictly abided by.

Thomas shifted nervously. “Adam tried to change her,”

the man blurted out.

Logan leaned back in his chair. “I see,” he murmured as his eyes once again shot to the large pile of expensive equipment

covering his desk. “He did this knowing I wanted to change the woman myself?”

“Yes, Master,” John replied anxiously, probably hoping he’d shift all his anger towards the man he already planned on killing

for failing to get the woman.

“And where is Adam?” he asked, drumming his fingers along the edge of his mahogany desk.

“Dead,” Brad, a vampire he’d mistakenly turned a few weeks ago announced. As a human he’d been a damn good cop, as a

vampire….well, Logan was already planning on rectifying his mistake.

“How?”

The men shared nervous glances. “You know how I feel about being made to wait,” he reminded them.

“The woman,” John finally answered.

His fingers stilled. Isabella McGuire killed one of his strongest vampires? Based on the pictures he’d seen of her and

information a few of his minions were able to get on her, he knew there was no way in hell she could have taken on Adam.

“She’s a Sentinel,” Brad blurted out.

Everything stilled in him with that one word.

Sentinel.

“We don’t think she knows what she is,” John added.

“She didn’t fight back when they grabbed her and she looked genuinely surprised by the whole thing.”

“Adam burst into flames a minute or so after he bit her,” Brad said in a rush.

“Didn’t you realize something was off about her scent?”

he asked through clenched teeth. Of all his men, Adam should have known when he was dealing with a Sentinel. Sentinel blood

was sweet and too damn inviting. It was a natural trap that most vampires younger than four centuries fell for and it was a scent

he damn well made sure all of his men were trained to detect.

“We didn’t get close enough to scent it on her,” John mumbled.

“Why not?” he demanded, trying to think of a way to rectify this situation. His men had fucked up and now Isabella McGuire

was fair game for the other Masters.

He’d be damned if they got their hands on her before he did. Now that his men had screwed up they probably sent her running

out of his territory.

They had to get her and soon before she found out what she was and most importantly, before her mate found her. She might not

be trained, but that didn’t mean her mate wouldn’t be. All he needed now was some fucking Sentinel screwing up his plans.

“Where is she?” he bit out, not bothering to send his fangs back when they shot out.

“They have her,” Brad mumbled pathetically.

“Who?” he snapped.

“A group of Sentinels on patrol found them. They killed the men with Adam and took her,” John explained quickly.

“I see,” Logan sighed as he got up and slowly walked around his desk. “The Sentinels have my property,” he said in

deceptively calm voice. His men noticeably relaxed. It was insulting really.

“Yes, Master. There was nothing we could do,” Brad said, fidgeting as Logan came to a stop in front of him.

“Nothing?” he asked, looking into the weaker man’s eyes.

“No, Master,” Brad answered with a shake of his head.

Logan continued to watch the man as he addressed the rest of them. “Is this true? There was nothing you could do?”

“Yes, Master,” they murmured their agreement.

“Of course. I understand. A group of Sentinels came and there was nothing you could do to get my property,”

he said in sympathetic tone.

“I’m sorry, Ma-” Brad began to say before a surprised gasp left his mouth. He stared in horror at Logan before he slowly

looked down to find a large gaping hole in his chest.

Logan tossed the blood soaked heart in his hand, ignoring the man as he fell to the ground. “Tell me again why the three of you

ran from Sentinels and allowed them to take my prize?” he asked, still tossing the heart in the air and catching it.

“We’re sorry, Master,” John said, trying not to look at the now smoldering body.

He caught the heart and gestured with it towards the large pile of computer equipment. “And all this?”

Thomas licked his lips nervously. “We went to her apartment and grabbed all her computer equipment and discs before the

Sentinels could get them.”

That actually pleased him so he decided to let them live. For now. “Take all of this,” he said, gesturing with the heart again, “to

be looked at. I want to know the very second you find the Tattletale program.”

He tossed the heart onto the smoldering body. “But just in case, find Isabella McGuire.”

“And if she’s found her mate?” Thomas asked as he tried not to glance at the now smoking body.

Logan thought it over for a minute. Killing her mate would be the smart thing to do, but he couldn’t ignore all the possibilities

that went along with having his prize’s mate.

“Grab him,” he decided, only to frown when he looked over at the two men who had already failed him. He had too much

riding on this to take any more chances.

There was only one way he could guarantee that he was the one to find her, unfortunately it was also the one thing he promised

himself he would never do, but it didn’t look like he had much of a choice at the moment.

“Get me Kale Quinn.”

**************

his way.

“No,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her right hand and narrowing her eyes accusingly on his jaw. No doubt she blamed his

jaw for hurting her hand. It wasn’t as though he knew she was going to deck him as soon as he set her down in the living room.

Granted, he should have, but he’d been rather distracted. He certainly hadn’t known his little mate didn’t know how to throw a

proper punch.

They’d have to work on that.

He leaned forward from his perched position on the overstuffed chair and reached out to take her hand in his. She immediately

jerked back, cradling the hand against her chest.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, reaching out again only to have her plaster herself against the back of the couch and as far

away from him as she could get.

With a resigned sigh he sat back in his chair. “Next time don’t tuck your thumb in your fist.”

She mumbled something about taking kickboxing lessons, but he wasn’t really paying attention. His jaw clenched almost

painfully as he ran his eyes over the already bruised and swollen fingers she was cradling.

There was no doubt in his mind that she’d broken them.

He’d had enough broken bones in his lifetime to know how to spot one. Thankfully broken fingers usually healed within a few

hours thanks to Sentinel blood.

Not that she knew that little tidbit of information, but she had to wonder why she healed faster than everyone else and never got

sick. When he was a kid, long before he found out what and who he was, he just thought he was a lucky bastard. While most

people took months for a broken bone to heal it took him a few hours for a small bone and maybe a week for a larger bone.

He wasn’t exactly sure about the scientific reasoning behind their healing abilities, but he knew it had something to do with half

his soul belonging to an angel. No doubt it did something to his human body.

Many Sentinels believed that when the half souls combined it triggered something in their DNA, giving them protection,

sweetening their blood, and prolonging their lives. Whatever it was it had come in handy a time or two in his life. It also

connected him to the woman who held the other halves of his souls, this woman, making her his mate.

When his eyes began to trail down her body he had to force himself not to groan. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he

discretely grabbed a floral throw pillow and placed it over his lap. How in the hell did human males live like this? he

wondered, shifting again as his erection threatened to tear through his pants. It was damn distracting and something he was

clearly going to have to learn to ignore.

It’s not like sex was a top priority in his life or even interested him. Even as a teenager he couldn’t force himself to be into it.

Sure he’d made out with his fair share of girls in high school, but that had been more to save face than anything.

His situation had already been fucked up enough without letting everyone think he didn’t like girls.

Having a hooker for a mother hadn’t exactly been easy, but he’d managed. As long as he didn’t have to deal with foster homes

he’d been happy. It hadn’t mattered that sometimes he had to sleep under the trailer because her “dates” hadn’t felt comfortable

fucking her with only an old sheet used as a door separating them, or that most of his food came from charity, school lunches,

and five finger discount.

Okay, so happy might not be the way he described his childhood, but it had been manageable as long he’d stayed out of foster

homes and didn’t let everyone know how truly fucked up his life really was. As long as everyone thought he was untouchable

and that nothing could hurt him he’d been fine. Just fucking peachy.