Page 23 of Craved

And, honestly, why wouldn’t he show up? He followed me around all night; you’d think he’d follow me here, too.

I order another club soda, then sip it as I meander through the bar, hoping he’ll sidle up beside me.

He doesn’t.

I step out onto the little patio that opens to a sitting area and koi pond.

No Maxim.

I go back inside and chat with the bartender, going so far as to ask if he noticed a guy fitting Maxim’s description in the last hour.

No luck. And now he’s more than fifteen minutes late. Either something happened or he never intended to meet me in the first place. Which means I need to figure out where he’s staying and go to him.

Or find another pathway for getting close to Killion Lambert.

I walk the perimeter of the bar one more time, and when I still don’t see him, I go into the lobby, then fidget until it’s my turn at the concierge desk. Perhaps he left a message.

But the concierge confirms what I already know. No message. Moreover, this hotel has no second bar or secret executive club room where he might be instead.

The son-of-a-bitch blew me off. Which, frankly, irritates the shit out of me.

There’s nothing I can do tonight, though. I don’t even want to try. I’m physically exhausted from the travel and emotionally exhausted from my trip down memory lane. I need sleep, and my plan is to crash now, then check in with Brax and the rest of the team the minute the sun rises over Los Angeles.

I’m still seething about Maxim’s no-show when I exit the elevator onto my floor, and despite the fact that it would probably be wise to grab my iPad from the hidden lockbox and give the research file another read, I promise myself that all I’m going to do once I get inside my room is glom a mindless movie, drink whatever wine is in the minibar, and think absolutely zero thoughts about Maxim Wilder.

I need that man out of my head.

Armed with my no-Maxim plan, I swipe my card key with a much lighter heart, then push open the door, step inside, and scream.

Chapter Twelve

Or I try to scream.

I can’t manage it with the hand over my mouth, and I can’t struggle free from the strong arms holding me from behind. I’ve had training in hand-to-hand combat, but right now, my skills are about as useless as a Nerf football.

“I probably should have killed you on the street.” His words are flat. Matter-of-fact. “I’m seriously considering remedying that right now.”

His breath is warm behind my ear, but the words are as cold as ice. I tremble in his arms, then want to kick myself for showing fear. Hell, for getting caught at all. I’m better than that. And the only excuse I have is that I let my attention slip. Part of my mind had veered away from safety and the mission and my training.

Part of my mind had gone to Maxim. The man who may kill me right now.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says. “I’d almost gotten over hating you.”

“Mmmph!” The sound erupts from me before I can help myself. He hates me? I haven’t just been captured, I’ve been catapulted down the freaking rabbit hole.

“Now that we have some privacy, we should probably have a little talk. Much more productive than me watching you wander the city.”

His lips brush the back of my ear, and his breath flutters my hair as his arm remains at my neck. “What do you think? Shall we do some catching up between old friends?”

As he speaks, his arm tightens. One quick move, and he can break my neck. He doesn’t bother to tell me. He knows that I know.

But it’s not the death grip that truly frightens me. It’s what he’s doing with his other hand. Which is exactly what I’d intended as part of my plan to entice him to add me to his team. In that scenario, though, I’d been the one with the power. Right now—as his fingers slip under my fuck-me skirt and begin slowly tracing their way up—he’s definitely claimed the upper hand.

I try to hold myself straight. To fight a traitorous, rising desire. He’s a dangerous man, I know that. But more than that, he’s dangerous to me.

This is a man who knows what turns me on. What gets me off. Who knows all the little secrets that I shared with him in our bed. Hell, most of those are secrets we learned together.

How I like it hard. Not tender or sweet. How I get off on danger. How every time we were almost caught, the sex when we got home was incredible. Sometimes, we couldn’t even wait until we got home.