Page 80 of Her Captivated Hero

“Don’t you mean your Indian Buttercup?”

She’d worn her hair down, like a silken black waterfall. He tucked back a strand behind her ear.

“You’re being too literal. I fell in love with Buttercup when I was seven years old and my aunts took me to see the movie. I fell in love with her because she was the one who waited for Westley, because she was his destiny. She was his one true love. Even then, I knew that was what I wanted. It had nothing to do with the color of her hair.”

Her lips pursed and her eyes sparkled. “But I’m thinking you might like that she and I both have long hair.”

“Careful, your genius is showing.” He gripped her long hair in his fist and slammed his mouth down on hers. This was no slow seduction, it was a storm of liquid fire, and Riya grabbed for his shoulders or she would have fallen. His lips didn’t soothe and tease, they forced hers open, demanding supplication, demanding a surrender she was only too happy to give.

The room whirled, and she felt her butt hit something hard. Riya realized she was sitting on the marble countertop, her legs splayed with Gray pressed hard against her core. He tasted different, like his kiss was flavored by a compulsion. She pushed at his chest.

“Gray,” she panted.

He pressed his lips against her temple.

“Listen to me,” she continued. “It’s going to be fine. You’re going to take down those bogeys or targets or tangos or assholes or whatever you want to call them. You’re going to take them out, and we will go home and everything will be fine.”

He lifted his head, their eyes mere inches apart.

“You believe that, don’t you?” Their breath mingled.

“Absolutely. Because I believe in you. I might not know all of your team really well, but I know you’re leading them, so you’re going to make this work. You’re going to save everybody.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked with a rakish grin.

“Yes.” She thumped her fist on his chest.

“As you wish.”

* * *

Wyatt had donegood reserving the most expensive suite in the hotel. The HVAC room that controlled all of the heating and air conditioning for the entire hotel was also located on this floor.

Gray looked at his watch, then over his shoulder at Wyatt, who was staying in the room to monitor everything. “We good to go?”

“Three, two, one. Now.” Wyatt gave Gray and Dex the go signal. The two of them left the hotel suite and turned left down the hallway that was no longer under surveillance. At the end of hallway was an innocuous door, and Dex took out his Smartphone. He flashed it in front of the key card pad for the door. It flashed red for three minutes, until it finally went green.

Dex grinned like a proud parent.

“What the fuck?” Gray stared at Dex in amazement.

“I calibrated it on the Palace Suite door lock. Once I had that dialed in, it was easy enough to tweak it.”

“Easy my ass.” Gray whispered as he opened the door. He was surrounded by bloody geniuses.

Both of them were dressed in cargo pants, black t-shirts and lightweight nylon jackets. They each carried canvass bags containing heavy weapons. Under their coats they had their Sig Sauers and knives. Their mic and receiver were the only outward indication that they might be more than they seemed, but those were fairly unobtrusive.

There had been no schematics for the interior of the HVAC room, so they were playing it by ear. As soon as they entered, Dex called out a greeting in Arabic, then again in English. They were greeted by silence. Still, they carefully swept through the room. The awards ceremony was due to start in forty-five minutes.

“Clear,” Gray said.

“My side, too,” Dex said as he met Gray in front of the cooling tower.

They both looked at their watches at the same time. “Get your ass moving,” Dex said to Gray. “I’ve got it covered in here.”

Gray did another quick sweep of the room and saw that there were emergency lights. He went over to the wall and turned off the lights so they were bathed in just the low red light.

“Good thinking,” Dex grinned.