THREE
Jez
I WOULD WAIT UNTILwe got to the lobby and scream bloody murder, I decided. There was no question that I had to get away from this towering alpha who smelled like my mother’s kitchen at Christmas, whether he had a gun pointed at me or not.
I couldn’t let him get me into a car. Once I was in a car, everything would be harder.
Yes, it was late at night—but the hotel was hosting a business conference. There had to be some people still wandering around, and I didn’t think Gage would be willing to blow a hole through my ribcage in a public venue with witnesses.
The elevator doors dinged shut, closing us in. I’d chastised myself for not being afraid enough, when I’d been riding this elevator up to the penthouse with Matthew Knoxley. This time, I knew better. Yet even now, the rich, heady combination of our combined pheromones was making my head feel fuzzy and stupid.
Apparently, Gage wasn’t having the same problem. The gun never wavered against my side as he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen with his thumb a few times before lifting it to his ear.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s me. Bring the car around. I’ll be there in five, with a passenger.”
I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end as anything more than an unintelligible murmur, but Gage said, “Thanks,” and disconnected the call. The phone disappeared back into his pocket, and then his full attention was on me. With every fiber of my being, I hated the sharp-edged impulse that zinged through my hindbrain—urging me to tip my head away from those deep-set hazel eyes and bare the side of my throat to him.
My jaw clenched. Thefuckwas I going to show throat to this asshole.
As the floor numbers counted down, I silently urged the car to stop, and other people to get on. But it continued to glide smoothly downward. There was only one set of doors on the top floor, and it occurred to me that the penthouse suite might have its own dedicated elevator.
As we approached the ground floor, Gage’s brow furrowed.
“You’re thinking about making a scene in the lobby,” he said. “But unless you’ve changed your mind about taking your chances with an attempted murder charge, you should know that’s not going to go down the way you think it is.”
I kept my lips pressed tightly closed, not rising to his bait. The elevator slowed, gravity making our bodies heavier as the floor broke our slow-motion fall. I drew a deep lungful of air, ready to start screaming.Help! Kidnapping! He’s got a gun!
The doors slid open on a scene of controlled chaos, and the words died in my throat. The lobby was swarming with police and EMTs.
“Call me a kidnapper, and I’ll tell ’em what you did upstairs,” Gage said, too low to be heard by anyone else but me.
I should do it anyway. IknewI should. My gaze fell on a pair of handcuffs hanging from the closest cop’s belt. The memory of being shackled... of being manhandled by rough hands, unable to balance or catch myself when I was shoved, flooded through my brain like icy water. My breath stuck in my throat.
Gage’s grip on my upper arm steered me through the chaos, moving me effortlessly even though my legs felt like they were attached to a completely different person.
Outside, I thought—more than a little hysterically.Once we’re outside, I’ll make a run for it.
But the glass doors opened onto a sea of flashing lights. Police cars. An ambulance. Even a firetruck. The strobing red and blue hurt my eyes. Gage’s grip on me never wavered; it might as well have been shackles, because there was no way I was breaking free.
Afterimages still painted my vision as I was dragged toward a long black sedan.No, I thought again.Don’t get in his car—
I aimed a mule-kick at the alpha’s shin, hoping to turn the stiletto heels I was wearing into a weapon. The blow connected, but not as hard as I wanted—the high heel raked over his tailored trousers.
He didn’t even flinch.
Then I was sprawled in a spacious back seat, scrabbling against leather upholstery. Gage’s bulk followed, penning me in, and before I knew it, he once more had me by the upper arm, with the gun pointed at me openly now.
Confused, I looked at the front seat. It was separated from us by a glass barrier, and a driver wearing an honest-to-god chauffeur’s cap sat behind the wheel. We were in alimo, for fuck’s sake. Not a stretch limo, but definitely not a normal car.
“Help!” I shrieked, confident that the glass barrier couldn’t be completely soundproofed. “Help me! I’m being kidnapped!”
The glass rolled down, and the beta driver craned around with an expression of confusion. “What thefuck, Gage?” he asked, and my heart sank.
