Enduring shoot-outs and staring at a gun aimed at my face.
Coming out on top after a round of combat.
I was no weakling, but I’d never experienced this particular flavor of horror and panic. The anger and self-recrimination too.
How could I let this happen?
How? Just what the fuck went wrong?
Is he some Houdini or freak who does magic acts?
How the hell could he slip away from me so well in the airport?
How the hell could all my practice and training and working out fail me when he grabbed me outside?
What—
I willed myself to draw in a deep breath before I’d panic any further. I had to calm down and think pragmatically, not get carried away with what-ifs and postulations about what could come next.
He got me. I recalled with hazy clarity how he’d smiled so cockily at me as he sedated me.
“Gotcha.”
I growled as quietly as I could, biting down on my gag again. The fucking nerve of that asshole.
He did have me here, and it seemed he wanted to gloat about it.
But where was here? That was a detail I needed to assess.
Horror mixed again with anger when I wondered what he planned to do with me next.
This man, too confident and sexy for his own good, was a killer. An assassin had kidnapped me, and I would do well not to forget that detail.
Emil might’ve gone through a trial of patience to grab me, resist my efforts to escape, and refrain from hurting me. But that logic was only applicable for right now.
He could kill me.
Mutilate me.
Torture me.
I strained to swallow again, but the action prompted me to cough lightly, the most that I could with the rag in my mouth.
I didn’t know how long I’d been in here. How long he’d keep me here. Where I could be next. All I could do was wait and kick myself for ever being captured.
As I willed my heart to slow, I tried to commit the room to memory. Just in case I could direct someone else here and?—
Oh, shit.
Through the haze of fear and frustration, I realized that he could be keeping me and holding me hostage until he got something in return from me. From the people I belonged to.
Oh, fucking hell.
If he contacted my department or anyone else at the agency…
Another groan was muffled from my throat, stopped by the gag.
I’ll never live this down. Never.
