Instantly tension ratcheted through them both. This was it. Make or break time. They had to get Killean to talk about Draz’s plans. They had to find out what Killean was planning in order to keep the diplomats safe this weekend.
“Be safe,” Rafe said to her softly. “Take no chances.”
“This whole setup is about taking chances.”
“I know. I meant no more than necessary. I won’t let them hurt you, but they may hurt me. You have to roll with it. I can take whatever they dish out, as long as it’s not a shot to the brain stem.”
“I can’t just let them beat on you!”
“You can and you will.”
“And if they beat on me?” she countered.
“You are infinitely more fragile than I am. I will call a halt to the whole operation if they so much as touch a hair on your head.”
“That’s ridiculous. I can take a little punishment. Believe me, I’ve dealt with a lot of abuse over the years as a cop.”
“This is different. Killean is sadistic. He will want to hurt you to get to me. But first he’ll try hurting me. He’ll get his kicks. He’ll try to assert dominance. Just roll with it.”
“I will if you will.”
He was silent for a long minute. “All right. But say the word ‘coffee’ if it gets to be too much.”
“I will.”
“Promise me you won’t let it go too far,” he demanded of her as the van pulled to a stop.
“I promise,” Renee said, her breath hot and harsh in the confines of her hood. She suddenly felt like she was desperate for a breath of fresh air. For a little bit of light.
They heard the driver get out and both were poised to act. Rafe collapsed beside her, pretending to be unconscious. She sat up on her heels, facing the van door. This was it. The driver could go along with the program or he could give them away. She strained to hear but there were no voices nearby.
Not at first.
Then suddenly there was conversation coming toward the van. A rowdy group of loud men and women.
The side door to the van slammed open.
Chapter 21
Hands were reaching for her a moment later, jerking her out of the van and jostling her roughly. She tried to hear everything, to keep herself oriented to the world around her. But she was blind and there was no telling where she would end up. She immediately found herself fearing for Rafe’s safety more than her own when, in fact, the odds were she was the one under most threat. They would use her to get to him. They were counting on his lawful behavior. Otherwise, how else did they expect to use her against him? It wasn’t as if they knew of any emotions he might have for her. She was walked some distance. She heard the people around her moving, but none of them talked except for a male who laughed uproariously when one of the people holding her tripped and fell. She felt him pick himself up, heard him growl under his breath, then felt him grab her arm painfully hard again and jerk her forward. Suddenly she was stopped and strung up tightly between two men who had brutal hold of her arms, and the hood was whipped off her head.
Renee winced at the bright light all around her, her eyes having grown accustomed to the darkness of the hood. But she blinked rapidly and adjusted to the blinding light until she was looking into the face of a stranger. He was thin and gaunt and looked unhealthy. He was sitting in a chair—more like a throne—about ten feet away from where she stood. He looked inherently bored, as if she were a waste of his time. His legs were crossed indolently and his posture in the chair matched.
“Kneel,” he commanded her.
She was shoved down to her knees. That was when she realized Rafe was a short distance behind her and to her right. Being forced to kneel turned her head enough to see him. He was kneeling as well, his hood removed, but he hung limply between those who held him, feigning unconsciousness.
“Wake him,” the sycophant commanded.
Renee watched as a sycophant, one much bigger and fuller bodied than the one giving the commands, went up to Rafe and backhanded him across the face. Rafe’s head whipped to the side and he let out a grunt of pain. He stirred and opened his eyes, no doubt to avoid another attempt at rousing him.
“Well, Rafe,” the sycophant in the chair greeted him, “it’s about time you came to visit me.”
“Killean, I would have preferred to avoid you for the rest of my days. I only wish you had felt the same.” Rafe tongued the corner of his lips where the slap had drawn blood. She noticed then that it was because the striker was wearing large rings on his hands.
“But we have so much to talk about,” Killean said, sounding amused.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“You have everything to say to me. And you will tell me all I wish to hear if you want your meal to remain safe.”
Killean stood up and walked the few short feet to Renee. He reached out and took her chin in his hand. He stroked her lips with his thumb.
“My, my she is a pretty one. I can see the appeal. She’s a bit too clean for my tastes, but we can fix that.”
He nodded to the men holding on to her and they jerked her up off her knees and over to a table. They slammed her down, the metal of the table echoing loudly in the vast room. That was when it registered on Renee that they were in a warehouse of some kind. There was no activity at present, probably because it was the weekend…or maybe because Killean wanted privacy for what he was about to do. Renee tried not to panic when they reached around and cut the ties holding her hands and pinned her arms to the table. They rolled up the sleeve to her sweater and a female sycophant came up to her. She was brunette with garishly painted red lips and heavily lined eyes. She was trying to make her thin face look normal and pretty—but she was failing at it miserably. It was a shame, Renee thought inanely, she had probably been very beautiful when she had been healthy.
But all thoughts of her potential beauty fled when she leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Renee balked and jerked her head away. The sycophant raised her head and laughed. Renee tasted lipstick where it had been smeared across her mouth. She could imagine that the transfer of the lip color made her look like a demented sort of clown now, just like the phant in front of her.
“She’s feisty,” she said on a seductive growl.
“Behave yourself, Katrine…for now. Rafe, Katrine has a present for your nibblet. Show him your gift, Katrine.”
“Be safe,” Rafe said to her softly. “Take no chances.”
“This whole setup is about taking chances.”
“I know. I meant no more than necessary. I won’t let them hurt you, but they may hurt me. You have to roll with it. I can take whatever they dish out, as long as it’s not a shot to the brain stem.”
“I can’t just let them beat on you!”
“You can and you will.”
“And if they beat on me?” she countered.
“You are infinitely more fragile than I am. I will call a halt to the whole operation if they so much as touch a hair on your head.”
“That’s ridiculous. I can take a little punishment. Believe me, I’ve dealt with a lot of abuse over the years as a cop.”
“This is different. Killean is sadistic. He will want to hurt you to get to me. But first he’ll try hurting me. He’ll get his kicks. He’ll try to assert dominance. Just roll with it.”
“I will if you will.”
He was silent for a long minute. “All right. But say the word ‘coffee’ if it gets to be too much.”
“I will.”
“Promise me you won’t let it go too far,” he demanded of her as the van pulled to a stop.
“I promise,” Renee said, her breath hot and harsh in the confines of her hood. She suddenly felt like she was desperate for a breath of fresh air. For a little bit of light.
They heard the driver get out and both were poised to act. Rafe collapsed beside her, pretending to be unconscious. She sat up on her heels, facing the van door. This was it. The driver could go along with the program or he could give them away. She strained to hear but there were no voices nearby.
Not at first.
Then suddenly there was conversation coming toward the van. A rowdy group of loud men and women.
The side door to the van slammed open.
Chapter 21
Hands were reaching for her a moment later, jerking her out of the van and jostling her roughly. She tried to hear everything, to keep herself oriented to the world around her. But she was blind and there was no telling where she would end up. She immediately found herself fearing for Rafe’s safety more than her own when, in fact, the odds were she was the one under most threat. They would use her to get to him. They were counting on his lawful behavior. Otherwise, how else did they expect to use her against him? It wasn’t as if they knew of any emotions he might have for her. She was walked some distance. She heard the people around her moving, but none of them talked except for a male who laughed uproariously when one of the people holding her tripped and fell. She felt him pick himself up, heard him growl under his breath, then felt him grab her arm painfully hard again and jerk her forward. Suddenly she was stopped and strung up tightly between two men who had brutal hold of her arms, and the hood was whipped off her head.
Renee winced at the bright light all around her, her eyes having grown accustomed to the darkness of the hood. But she blinked rapidly and adjusted to the blinding light until she was looking into the face of a stranger. He was thin and gaunt and looked unhealthy. He was sitting in a chair—more like a throne—about ten feet away from where she stood. He looked inherently bored, as if she were a waste of his time. His legs were crossed indolently and his posture in the chair matched.
“Kneel,” he commanded her.
She was shoved down to her knees. That was when she realized Rafe was a short distance behind her and to her right. Being forced to kneel turned her head enough to see him. He was kneeling as well, his hood removed, but he hung limply between those who held him, feigning unconsciousness.
“Wake him,” the sycophant commanded.
Renee watched as a sycophant, one much bigger and fuller bodied than the one giving the commands, went up to Rafe and backhanded him across the face. Rafe’s head whipped to the side and he let out a grunt of pain. He stirred and opened his eyes, no doubt to avoid another attempt at rousing him.
“Well, Rafe,” the sycophant in the chair greeted him, “it’s about time you came to visit me.”
“Killean, I would have preferred to avoid you for the rest of my days. I only wish you had felt the same.” Rafe tongued the corner of his lips where the slap had drawn blood. She noticed then that it was because the striker was wearing large rings on his hands.
“But we have so much to talk about,” Killean said, sounding amused.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“You have everything to say to me. And you will tell me all I wish to hear if you want your meal to remain safe.”
Killean stood up and walked the few short feet to Renee. He reached out and took her chin in his hand. He stroked her lips with his thumb.
“My, my she is a pretty one. I can see the appeal. She’s a bit too clean for my tastes, but we can fix that.”
He nodded to the men holding on to her and they jerked her up off her knees and over to a table. They slammed her down, the metal of the table echoing loudly in the vast room. That was when it registered on Renee that they were in a warehouse of some kind. There was no activity at present, probably because it was the weekend…or maybe because Killean wanted privacy for what he was about to do. Renee tried not to panic when they reached around and cut the ties holding her hands and pinned her arms to the table. They rolled up the sleeve to her sweater and a female sycophant came up to her. She was brunette with garishly painted red lips and heavily lined eyes. She was trying to make her thin face look normal and pretty—but she was failing at it miserably. It was a shame, Renee thought inanely, she had probably been very beautiful when she had been healthy.
But all thoughts of her potential beauty fled when she leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Renee balked and jerked her head away. The sycophant raised her head and laughed. Renee tasted lipstick where it had been smeared across her mouth. She could imagine that the transfer of the lip color made her look like a demented sort of clown now, just like the phant in front of her.
“She’s feisty,” she said on a seductive growl.
“Behave yourself, Katrine…for now. Rafe, Katrine has a present for your nibblet. Show him your gift, Katrine.”
