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  Not taking her hand off mine, she said under her breath, “You’ll owe me more than that when we get downstairs.”

  My heart froze. “Why? What’s downstairs?”

  “My husband.”

  That word.

  God, that word.

  Elder...Miki...whatever his name was—I’d given him my heart in every way. If I couldn’t have him, then this woman couldn’t have her husband. “I don’t care.”

  “You’ll care when he shoots you.”

  “If he’s the man who shot the one I love, then good luck to him. I’ll haunt him for the rest of his days for killing any hope I had at happiness.”

  Her shoulders slouched as if affected by the raw pain I couldn’t hide. “I don’t understand—”

  “There’s nothing to understand.” I wished I’d gagged her. Conversation had the unnerving ability to switch enemy into common human. “I don’t want to talk anymore.” Reaching the foyer, I hissed into her ear. “Scream and I’ll hurt you a lot worse. All I want to do is leave.”

  My threat wasn’t empty—I would hurt her. How, I had no idea. But really, she could call my bluff because what leverage did I have to stop her?

  I had no guns or knives. And even if I did, I wouldn’t use them. I struggled to grip her hair, let alone draw blood. All I had were my fibs and night-crushed ballgown while adrenaline drowned my veins, making me woozy on escape and torture.

  “He was there last night, you know. Franco is his name. My husband. He said there was a fight.”

  So her husband was the henchman of the man who’d grabbed me. The man who’d stood by as I faded from consciousness in the arms of my kidnapper. Her husband had helped Elder by shooting the Chinmoku and then destroyed him by letting his accomplice drug and take me.

  My thoughts darkened, no longer regretting hurting her after all the pain I’d endured.

  My captive didn’t honour my command to stop talking, her voice gentle but cool. “Franco said Q told you who they were. He told me you were under attack, and they saved you. Why are you doing this if you know who Q is and why he took you?”

  “Stop it.” I shook her again, revelling in her small pained gasp.

  “But I need to understand. This doesn’t make sense. You should be grateful—”

  A strangled laugh fell from my lips. “Grateful? I should be grateful that they shot the man I loved and took me, despite both Elder and I begging them to listen. They had it wrong. I didn’t need saving. They were too late for that. Elder was the one who saved me months ago. He found me. Fixed me. Loved me. And then your asshole husband stood by while his friend shot him.”

  “But what about the men Franco said were holding you hostage?”

  I didn’t want to admit that Q and Franco had arrived at the perfect time. In a way, they’d saved Elder from one death only to deliver him to another. If only they hadn’t shot him, I would’ve got on my knees and thanked them a million times over for arriving and shooting the Chinmoku.

  When I didn’t reply, Suzette slouched. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Her apology threw ice water on the sizzling-flames around my heart. I didn’t know what to say.

  Her fingers squeezed mine still lodged in her hair. “Truly. I know you have no reason to believe me. But he’s never made a mistake before. To be fair...what you’re saying has never happened, so...how was he supposed to know?”

  I wanted to stay furious, but I couldn’t ignore the truth vibrating in her tone. Unlocking my fingers from around her bun, I dropped my hand. Blood rushed to my fingertips, desperate to erase the feel of holding her against her will.

  She turned to face me slowly as if I’d bound away or attack her. “I think you should talk to Tess.”

  “Tess?” I looked past her to the living room. Mirror images of double doors led to two different rooms. One side of the foyer held a library—dark and brooding with leather and parchment. The other held the welcoming embrace of a comfortable lounge. A dog’s chew toy sat on a pretty purple rug. A discarded cardigan draped over the back of the white leather couch. The smells of something sweet like muffins or cakes billowed from the distant kitchen glint.

  What is this place?

  It looked like a family lived here, not some rapist or psychopath.

  But how could that be if I’d been kidnapped and held against my will? What did Suzette mean? What had Q Mercer meant when he’d drugged me?

  That he was some sort of vigilante going around rescuing women sold into slavery? That he was someone...good?

  The front door opened, bringing a gust of chilly autumn air.

  Instantly, I grabbed my hostage again, pulling her as a shield in front of me, my arm locking over her chest. “You!” I hissed as the bulkier man of the two from the worst night of my life appeared.

  Suzette’s so-called husband.

  His gaze darted to the woman I held then locked onto me, his arm switching from frozen to whip-fast, unholstering the gun at his waist. “Let her go.” Raising the weapon, he aimed at my face. “Right fucking now.”

  I ignored the urge to duck, fighting every instinct to stay quiet, to turn mute. That handy tool wouldn’t save me here. I had a voice. I had every intention of screaming until I was listened to and released.

  Staying tucked behind Suzette, I bared my teeth. “Let me go and I’ll let her go.”

  The man inched closer, letting the front door swing closed behind him. He was handsome in a brutish French way. Dark hair and tight lips, he vibrated with loathing. “You’re not going anywhere unless you give me back my wife.”

  Suzette shrugged apologetically, shooting me a look over her shoulder. “Told you he wouldn’t be pleased.” She made no move to leave me, though. She could easily twist out of my hold and leave me wide open for target practice.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead, she reached behind her and patted my hip with her dainty hand, reassuring me even as the furious man pointed a gun in our direction.

  Sighing dramatically, she said in a French accented voice, “I’m fine, mon amour. You don’t need to worry.”

  Franco licked his lips like a carnivore. “I don’t need to worry, Suzette? She has you in a chokehold.”

  “Yes, and you snatched her from the man she loves. We’re all in the wrong.”

  Franco rolled his eyes. “How many times have we heard that story? Leave them with their masters long enough and they all fall in love with the cunts.”

  Suzette shook her head. “This one’s different.” She threw me a smile. “I believe her. Enough to listen, at least, instead of undermining her own heart. I suggest you do the same.”

  I sucked in a breath as Suzette patted my forearm wrapped around her chest. “It’s okay. Let me go. I’m on your side.”

  Trust had never come easy for me.

  Trust was something I would forever struggle to gift.

  This moment was no different.

  I didn’t drop my arm, but I did loosen it slightly. “I’ll only let you go if your husband puts his gun on the side table over there.” I arched my chin at the cute table with a porcelain bowl for keys.

  Franco snickered coldly. “While you have hands on my wife, I’m not putting my gun anywhere.”

  “Then I guess we’re at a stalemate.” The door behind him mocked me. Freedom existed just beyond it. If I could find some way to teleport and appear on the other side, all my problems would be over.

  I could run.

  Far, far away.

  I could find the ocean and swim, swim, swim toward the Phantom...wherever it may be.

  Dog claws scrabbled on tiles, followed by a bark.

  I didn’t mean to look—I should’ve kept my full attention on Franco in case he made a move, but a fat sausage-shaped bullet charged from the lounge with the half-chewed toy from the rug in its mouth, barrelling into Suzette’s legs.

  “Umph!” She stumbled back. “Darn you, Courage!”

  I switched from keeping her prisoner to helpin
g her balance.

  The crazy dog didn’t pause, galloping up the staircase, its tail wagging and round belly bouncing on every step.

  What on earth is going on here?

  Husbands and wives.

  Cardigans and pets.

  “Courage! Don’t you dare run away from me, you little brat!” A pretty Australian voice yelled, followed by running footsteps. “Why can’t you be more like your brothers and sisters?”

  Another woman appeared, slamming to a stop as she found our standoff in the foyer.

  Instantly, the love and happiness glowing on her face transformed to chilly assessment. Her eyes hardened, flitting quickly to Franco and Suzette. Instead of asking if her friend was okay or demanding the man with the gun execute me, she crossed her arms and slouched against the door frame. A viper coiled to strike but ready to sniff its prey first. “So...what’s going on?”

  Suzette shrugged. “Seems there’s been some kind of mistake.”

  Franco snarled. “This bitch won’t let her go.”

  I snapped, “I just want to leave.”

  All three conversations layered in a messy cacophony with no clear message.

  “Interesting.” The blonde woman raised an eyebrow. “Let’s focus on what Suzette just said seeing as I like her the most right now.” She smiled quickly at the maid in my hold, revealing years of history and trust and friendship far beyond anything I’d ever experienced. “You’re up. Tell me...what sort of mistake?”

  Suzette laughed, instantly at ease and comfortable enough to turn tension into mirth. “A Q mistake, of course. What else?”

  “Ah.” Blondie nodded, biting her lip to stay stern. “Can’t say he’s a saint but what’s he done this time?” Locking eyes with me, she added, “Care to tell me...whoever you are?”

  When I didn’t take the hint and give her my name, she tried a less subtle approach, her humour evaporating. “Let’s get something straight. My name is Tess, and that is my very best friend you’ve got.” She pushed off from the door frame, pointing at Franco who hadn’t lowered his gun. “And that’s her husband who is eerily similar to my husband and won’t hesitate to hurt you if you hurt her.” Padding barefoot, she came closer, circling around me and Suzette as if we were a museum exhibit.

  Her jeans fit snug, showing long legs and curvy hips. Her basic grey blouse billowed over full breasts with the hint of lacy bra underneath. She was one of those lucky women who could wear simple clothing but look effortlessly expensive.

  “We’re not in the habit of hurting our guests and in return expect the same courtesy. However, if you don’t let my friend go...we’re going to have a serious problem.”

  My heart galloped, smoking with indecisions.

  I couldn’t let Suzette go because I couldn’t be left vulnerable. I couldn’t keep up my threat to hurt her because she’d proven to be sane amongst all this crazy, and perhaps, just perhaps, this new captivity was nothing like my last.

  All I could do was remain in the current status quo and hope no one shot me. “I just want to go home.”

  I sounded pitiful.

  Heartbroken.

  Riddled with enough pain to lower Franco’s gun and send a flicker of concern over Tess’s face.

  Suzette leapt to my defence yet again. “From what I can gather, she was a slave but then it got complicated.”

  “Complicated is normally the case when dealing with slaves.” Tess pursed her lips. “You know that as well as I do, Suzette.” Clasping her hands together, Tess stared at me as if I had it all wrong. As if I didn’t know my own brain and heart. As if she pitied the screwed-up existence I’d bought as real. “Look, let’s try this again. We won’t hurt you, but seeing as this is our home, we’re not comfortable with our guests manhandling loved ones. Let Suzette go and I give you my word Franco won’t shoot and I won’t retaliate. All I ask is you come with me and talk.”

  “Go with you where?” My arm shook from tension. I didn’t want to be the villain. In fact, the longer I held the position, the more I hated it. The tricks my mother had taught me to read body language fritzed and misfired. I tried to read the situation and uncover everyone’s true agenda. But there were too many people all at once.

  Franco was the easiest to read: cold, aloof, mercenary, but undoubtedly in love with the woman I held. Intelligent and not afraid of dirty work judging by how comfortably he held the gun and the way he helped shoot the Chinmoku last night.

  Suzette: slender, shorter than me, came across sweet and courteous but a steel rod ran through her spine, hinting at a ferocious temper.

  Tess: sharp-witted, courageous, steadfast. I couldn’t get a great read on her. She looked at me with displeasure but beneath that lurked a hint of kinship as if she understood my actions more than she should.

  “Nowhere special. Just to the kitchen. We’ll have some tea or coffee...maybe a freshly baked blueberry muffin or two. We’ll keep the weapons and threats far away and just talk.” Tess pointed into the room where she’d come from, completely forgetting the dog she’d been chasing. “I think talking is rather important, don’t you?”

  “I just want to go back to Elder. If he’s even alive.”

  “Elder?”

  “The man I love.”

  “The man you think you love.” Her face fell with sympathy. “You’re not the first to try to return to her master. A few attempted when they first arrived. Depending on how long you’ve been his property, the mind distorts what’s right and wrong. What’s real.”

  I glowered, jerking Suzette closer. “Don’t belittle me and say I don’t know my own heart.”

  Tess held up her hands. “I’m not belittling you. I’m telling you what I’ve experienced. However, if you want to tell me your side of the story, then I’ll gladly listen.” Her eyes narrowed. “But first, you must let my friend go and agree not to hurt anyone.”

  I snorted at the irony. The way I was holding Suzette was nothing. I was embracing her compared to the bone-breaking pain I’d been given.

  Suzette whispered under her breath so only I could hear. “She’ll listen, you know. If it’s truly a mistake, she’ll fix it. She’s married to Q and—”

  Oh, hell no.

  Shoving Suzette away from me, I balled my hands, glaring at Tess. “You’re married to the bastard who stole me? The idiot who shot the man who rescued me? The asshole who left him to die?”

  I didn’t care I was wide open for a bullet.

  I couldn’t believe this woman. I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to judge me as if I’d given my heart to a lost cause only to give hers to a man who never listened and ripped apart lovers.

  The hypocrite!

  Tess stiffened, looking me up and down. Finally, she glanced at Franco and Suzette. “I think you guys had better go.”

  Franco never lowered his gun. “I’m not leaving you with her. If Q was here, he’d—”

  Tess spun to face him. “He’s not here, and I’m fully capable of looking after myself, Franco. Thank you for your concern but you and Suzette spend the afternoon somewhere else.”

  Dismissing them and zeroing her entire attention on me, she backed into the lounge, opening her arm for me to join her. “Come on. Let’s talk.”

  Chapter Three

  ______________________________

  Elder

  AN HOUR INTO the cruise from Southampton to Calais and my temper had burned through most of the painkillers Michaels had given me.

  The only saving grace of being enroute to France was the waking water beneath the hull. The stagnancy of the harbour had gone; my fast-paced mind happier with the quick speed and hum of engines. They pacified me enough to wince my way through a shower and dress in something that wasn’t bullet-torn or blood stained.

  It’d taken five times as long to do something so simple, but I’d obnoxiously refused help, telling Selix to piss off and somehow managing to unwrap the many bandages and hiss my way into the shower. Balancing on one leg with an elbow and shou
lder unable to function was a lot harder than I thought.

  I probably shouldn’t submerge fresh wounds and stitches and definitely shouldn’t remove slings and splints, but I had to get clean.

  Not once.

  Not twice.

  But three times.

  I had to wash away the shit I’d done wrong so I could focus with a fresh mind to bring Pim home.

  By the time I’d wrangled my way back into the brace and bandages and fought one-armed into a dark grey shirt and fumbled with the buttons, my forehead shone with agony-sweat. My elbow bellowed from contorting and being used against its will while my bones ached, deciding the effort to be human and wear clothing wasn’t enough to justify the nausea and fever decorating my skin.

  But then I had to do it all over again, hoisting on a pair of trousers to complete my wardrobe and prevent giving people an eyeful of my crotch. The bottom half gave double the trouble—pulling on linen slacks instead of my first attempted jeans after being too tight to maneuverer around my fractured ankle. I used every curse word imaginable before the zipper was up and the dreaded things secured.

  Dressed but out of breath thanks to pain, I scowled at the array of walking sticks and crutches Michaels had left by my bed. The brace boot on my ankle was as far as I was prepared to go.

  I refused to hop around like a broken rabbit.

  Instead, I chose to hobble like the ogre I’d become for letting those bastards take what was mine. For letting them hurt Pim. For letting them snatch her when everything had finally worked out.

  Selix had given me a quick rundown of what’d happened. Obviously, I was aware how idiotic I’d been not to notice how silent the Phantom was or the missing staff. But the rest, I wasn’t savvy on.

  Two deck hands had been killed when the Chinmoku first climbed on board. Their bodies were found by the emergency siren in the back of the yacht. Luckily, they’d had enough time to pull the cord and alert everyone to evacuate into the safe room.

  Everyone, including Jolfer and high-ranking crew officials, managed to get in before they’d sealed the space and settled in to wait out the Chinmoku. Unfortunately, in their rush to hide, cell phones had been left behind, but even those who had them weren’t able to warn us due to the thick armoured plating blocking mobile signals.