Captured in Croatia
Author: Christine Edwards; Professor Of Industrial Relations; Personnel Management The Business School Christine Edwards
Date: 2014-05-15 17:35:41+00:00
Description: Corporate spy Carew Sloan is sent to Zagreb, Croatia, to retrieve information for a private intelligence agency. Carew's beauty and talent for computer decryption make her the natural choice for this sensitive mission. After charming her mark, Vasilije Juric, in one of Zagreb's swanky dance clubs, Carew finds herself in Juric's bedroom. It will take only a moment to gather the information she was sent for and make her escape. Or so she thinks. Unfortunately for Carew, Juric has a keen-eyed bodyguard, Zoran, who pegged her instantly as trouble. After a high speed chase, he retrieves Carew from
Publisher: Epicenter Press, Incorporated

Captured in

Croatia

Christine Edwards

Fanny Press

PO Box 70515

Seattle, WA 98127

For more information go to: www.fannypress.com
edwards.fannypress.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover design by Sabrina Sun

Captured in Croatia

Copyright © 2014 by Christine Edwards

ISBN: 978-1-60381-550-5 (Trade Paper)

ISBN: 978-1-60381-551-2 (eBook)

Produced in the United States of America

Dedicated wholeheartedly to my grandfather, the late Ronald H. Ferrell.

A proud man from West Virginia who survived the Great Depression and because of it never missed a day of work in his entire life. I can never thank you enough for raising me.

This one’s for you, Papa.

Special Thanks

I’d like to especially thank Emily H. of Fanny Press for your divine editing precision. It’s such a pleasure working with you!

Thank you to Jennifer M. and Catherine T. for assisting me in bringing this book as well as several others to life. It’s such a wonderful honor to work with you ladies.

Special thanks to my dear friend Gordana Gehlhausen. I appreciate your time with all the Croatian translations. Keep up the beautiful clothing designs, darling!

To Sia for her inspirational song “Soon we’ll be found.”

To Icona Pop for their fun and funky song, “I love it.” Always a must for ladies night!

To Florence and the Machine for their powerful song “Cosmic Love.” With each and every listen, I envision the passionate love between Zoran and Carew.

* * *

Also By Christine Edwards

Claimed in Canada

Naughty in Norway

Nabbed in New Zealand

Coming Soon

Nordic Lessons

* * *

Prologue

4:00 AM

Zagreb, Croatia

It will take a miracle of driving ingenuity to outrun his Maserati, but I’m simply out of options. I suck in a deep breath and repeat my relentless visual circuit: odometer, rearview mirror, road. He’s been on me for the past ten minutes now, ever since I hit the two-lane highway outside his boss’ mansion. Like a tenacious shark out for blood, he’s become increasingly more aggressive. More than once he’s been brazen enough to forcefully collide with the back bumper of my compact Nissan, probably hoping to send me into a tail spin off the dark road.

I can’t let him catch me, not after I’ve obtained the crucial information I was sent halfway across the world to acquire. I need to get the hell out of here and become lost in the capital, where I can appear as just another innocuous traveler.

I see the exit closing in fast. At the last possible second, I punch the clutch, shove the gear shift into fifth, and jerk the steering wheel hard to the right. The tires screech as I head up the curved, shadowed incline directly onto the A-1 South. My odometer reads 110 mph, nearly the maximum my little compact can go.

I glance back, then smack my palm down in frustration against the steering wheel. Damn! What I wouldn’t give to have my vintage Carrera Turbo right now instead of this piece of junk rental!

He anticipated my latest maneuver and has stayed on me like a magnet, mirroring my every move. All right, you big bastard, let’s see what you do with this …. I swiftly weave across three lanes while dropping down to second gear and easing on my brake. Yes, it worked! His Italian stunner’s engine is far too powerful, and he overshoots my position, which buys me mere seconds to execute my favorite move. It’s one I’ve practiced countless times back on the track in Atlanta. At thirty mph, I whip the Nissan completely around to the left. The scent of burning rubber wafts up from my overly stressed tires. The force of the spin makes me lean hard into my seatbelt, but at least I’m putting more distance between us.

Now that I’m heading in the opposite direction, it’s just a matter of time before I lose him completely. I need to be smart about it, though, because if he catches up with me on this straightaway, my rental won’t stand a chance against his sleek Italian ride. Not to mention that he’s already proven his ability to drive like a total demon. Shuddering, I try not to think of what would happen if he caught me.

I cautiously scan the overpass and the oncoming ramp for any sign of his distinct ride. There’s very little traffic this time of night and I seem to have lost him. His car isn’t visible in my rearview mirror, but I need to quickly locate the next exit and hide out until the threat has passed.

A split second. That’s all it takes for the Maserati to gain on me. I recognize his slanted headlights immediately as his low-slung ride emerges from behind a big cargo truck exiting the freeway. He wastes no time and races right up to my rear once again, an arm extended out the driver’s window. I take in one gulping breath before my right rear tire explodes, courtesy of his direct shot. He’s that accurate.

There’s nothing I can do except try to control my speeding car, which starts to careen wildly in spinning chaos. The right side of my compact slams with explosive force against a steel outer guardrail. I hear the sickening crunch of metal as it strains and then rips open from the weight and momentum of my vehicle.

Oh God!

I scream out in total terror. It’s dark and I don’t have a good read on how far up we are. My wild eyes strain to focus as I try to peer below. The murky drop could be twenty feet or two hundred. I reach for the door handle, thinking that it’s better to face him than to fall to a certain death. Without warning, the decision is made for me.

My relentless screams echo within the car’s cramped interior. I’m falling fast, and the weightless free-fall feels surreal. The car flips over its front end as I try desperately to shield my head and neck from imploding glass and metal. I’m petrified that I’ll be blinded. The windows are fractured in patterns of delicate crystal.

During the second jarring roll, my left wrist is shoved viciously against the hard plastic dashboard. Pain explodes across my hand and lower arm. Somewhere within the enclosure, I’m aware of my own rasping cry of pain.

When what’s left of my car finally comes to a rocking, overturned halt, I give a loud moan, fully aware of the gravity of my situation. My heart is racing so hard it feels as if it’s tunneling out of my throat.

Please, please let him have taken off! Let him think I’m dead!

Slowly, rational thought returns. I had to ditch my GPS earpiece while leaving the club earlier tonight for fear of being outted. My extraction team should be here soon to assist me. They had to flee separately from Juric’s thugs once we were spotted hauling ass away from his mansion twenty minutes ago. My car has a signal tracker attached to it, and assuming they’ve lost their tail by now, they should be making a beeline for me at this very moment.

If they’re still being tailed then my only hope is that a concerned passerby might have already phoned the police after seeing the bizarre accident. But there were no other cars on the highway aside from the semi truck that exited earlier. Not a good sign, Carew.

I blink my eyes and look around. Still buckled into the seat, my body hangs suspended and my arms dangle below me. Everything hurts. Before I’m able to assess how bad my condition really is, I hear the loud crunching of steady footfalls growing closer with each beat of my heart. They’re making their way straight toward my overturned car.

I suck in a frightened breath and try to reach down for my seat buckle, but I can only manage a weak groan with the slight, torturous movement. My body aches all over, and I must have a concussion, because my stomach is roiling and everything is spinning, as if it’s the morning after I gulped down an entire bottle of Perrier Jouet Fleur.

I’m out of my mind with terror because this scenario is a nightmare’s nightmare. It’s him. I know it. Soon the black muzzle of his gun will be the last thing I see on this green earth ….

Try harder!

I fumble awkwardly, feeling around for the seatbelt latch at my hip. My fingers are trembling badly and the pain from being battered back and forth is mind-boggling. No matter, I have to try at least to get away from him. It’s futile, I know, but I can’t throw in the towel, not just yet. I keep pressing down on the button but nothing happens. Maybe it’s jammed? Damn, damn!

Closer … and then the noise abruptly stops. My long pale hair hangs all around my face and it’s difficult to see through the mass, but I make out a pair of large, polished black leather dress shoes through my shattered window. I bite down hard against my bottom lip in an attempt to quell the fresh wave of raw panic and pain overrunning my exhausted body.

Play dead!

I try to still my body, but I can sense how erratic my breathing sounds. Knowing he won’t be able to miss that I’m still alive, I tremble softly with the fear. It’s hopeless. He’s going to kill me, and in this position I’m completely defenseless. All my training is for naught. Shit! How did it come to this?

I can’t help it. I have to watch because I would rather know what’s coming than go out like a complete coward. My brave father stared death straight in the face and flipped it off when it came for him, and so will I.

Through the veil of hair I make out that he’s lowered himself into a crouch beside me. He’s mere inches away.

I watch him warily as he tilts his handsome face to the side. He looks like a dark angel of death prepared to claim a victim.

He bashes in what’s left of the window and pulls away the shattered glass so that there is only air between us. In a calm voice that sounds like silk falling through a black tunnel, he says, “Vi ste moja sadasnja, princeza.” You’re mine now, princess.

Chapter One

Four Hours Earlier

Enigma

Our intel team has tapped into our target’s cellphone to find out where he’s headed for the evening. Our mark has good taste. Standing alone at the end of the blue glass bar of the über-chic Wet Works Club, I sip on a Grey Goose Vodka martini. Icona Pop’s hit song “I Love It” blares in the background and I can’t help but sway my hips to the techno beat.

Upon entering Zagreb’s most exclusive dance club, I was momentarily stunned to see the hot Swedish duo actually performing live in the DJ booth. The club owners must have paid a fortune to get them here from Sweden. The two sexy songstresses are busy mixing their funky house music for the fortunate upper class to party to all night long.

The vast warehouse space is low-lit with a myriad of shadowed alcoves and corners that would be the perfect spot for dark deeds. The central focus of the building is the huge dance floor, which is already heaving with beautifully dressed, glistening bodies. The chic lighting is constructed to give the effect of thousands of cut cubes of ice stacked into massive, hanging rectangles. All the seating, including the row of barstools lining the blue glass bar, is all white leather. The overall effect screams ‘haute sexiness.’

As I wait, delicately perched on Christian Louboutin stilettos, I sweep my fingers slowly, sensually, through my waist-length, corn silk blonde hair. My goal is to attract Juric, to let him think that he’s luring me to him, when in fact the exact opposite will be true.

When I entered the packed hotspot five minutes ago, I immediately spotted Juric sitting in one of the three roped-off, white-leather-backed VIP alcoves. An intimidating, huge security guard stands close by and two additional brawny men flank either side of his pristine, private sofa.

Now, standing only twenty feet away from him, I’m impossible to miss. But to play coy, I allow my green eyes to float anywhere but toward him. Billionaire businessmen only obtain his impressive level of success by lusting after challenges, and tonight I’m poised as the ultimate one. Knowing my mark’s tastes, I’ve gone all out this evening.

I’m draped in a stunning Roberto Cavalli black halter dress that is free of any adornment aside from a large, pleated, oval cut-out segment on the right side that starts at my ribs, just at the base of my breasts, and runs down to my hip. It’s unbelievably provocative, and I smile inwardly at the perks of my job. When this is over, they’ll let me keep the dress.

For the past eight years I’ve studied cryptography at MIT. After earning my graduate degree in the complex but fascinating subject of coding and electronic security, I was fortunate enough to acquire an in-house position with the elite private intelligence agency, Wade Garnett, Inc.

On occasion we contract out our skills to covert areas of the United States military, but the majority of our clients are civilians. The central focus of my job is to acquire classified data at the request of my employer, although this is not the only service our company provides for clients. The majority of our contracts focus on electronic security and encryption coding. With the hefty monetary backing from our prestigious clients, the possibilities of my job are nearly limitless.

I haven’t always been a field agent. Two years ago, while riding close in a wired vehicle shadowing one of our top spies, I was forced to step in when his cover was about to be blown. Our guy was inside the home of a wealthy widow whose deceased husband had stored information that our client wanted. She was catching on to the fact that he had never met her husband, despite his claiming to be a past business contact, so I was forced to intervene by knocking on the front door just as the woman was about to call the police. Inventing a quick, off-the-cuff story about a missing dog I could swear I’d seen in her yard, I occupied the woman long enough for our agent to access her computer and got us both out by the skin of our teeth. After that event I pleaded with my boss to place me out in the field as an agent, because the thrill of each unique mission was exhilarating. He was hesitant at first, but I sold him on my decoding skills and the fact that young female spies are rare and therefore more effective. Once he found out that I’d studied Aikido since childhood, he felt less concerned about my ability to handle myself should a precarious situation arise. Eventually he came around, insisting that I train extensively for eight months before I could become active in the field. I was glad he changed his mind because I can be quite stubborn. I wasn’t about to give up without a fight.

This is the fourth time I’ve been sent out on my own. Well, technically I’m not alone. Alan and Breck are in a van parked close by, hidden in a narrow side alley. They’re my eyes and ears as well as my extraction team should something go wrong. Agents are always supported by a well trained and highly specialized team. Breck and Alan are both former Navy Seals. They’re hardcore and don’t fuck around. If need be, they get physical first and ask questions later. Things tend to stay on track that way. Preparation is the key to a successful outcome, and we didn’t become the very best in our business because we leave things to chance.

I hear Breck cut in, speaking though the teeny earpiece nestled inside my right ear canal. “Do you have a lock on him, Carew?”

I pick up my martini glass, turn away from my mark, and just before the rim of the glass touches my lips, I softly murmur, “Affirmative.” Lowering my drink, I purposefully relax my features, glance over at Vasilije Juric, and bat my eyes like a shy doe.

Juric is quite possibly the most influential businessman in Croatia. He owns several factories throughout the country and most of them specialize in manufacturing computer components. He never fails to land a spot on the Forbes 500 list.

Five months ago my company was sought out by a prominent California electronics designer who was given insider information. The designer became convinced that Juric had somehow hacked his system and stolen one of his latest designs. The design is a highly complex PC security system that makes any system virtually hack-proof. Compared to others currently on the market, this one is revolutionary. Its estimated worth is over one hundred million dollars. My job is to hack Juric’s PC to see if the latest masterpiece he’s about to roll out is indeed his own creation or our client’s unique design. The irony of hacking into a computer to steal a hack-proof system isn’t lost on me, but luckily for us we have his password. If it’s the latter, then my client is headed straight into a massive lawsuit. Textbook espionage, really. That is, so long as we don’t get caught.

I let my body respond to the fabulous music and throw out a breezy smile each time the smoldering bartender passes by to check on my drink. A handsome guy in his mid-twenties leans in close and purrs in sexy, accented English, “Are you American?”

He must have heard me talking to the bartender. I flick my eyes to his chocolate ones and respond, “I am.”

“Damn, you’re gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink.”

I coo sweetly, “Oh, that’s too kind, but I’m about to meet my date. Maybe some other time.”

He recovers quickly and grumbles something unintelligible before moving on. Good, that was perfect. I want to play this right and lure in Vasilije Juric by letting him know that I’m looking for someone exceptional. I’m hoping that he’ll make his move soon so I don’t have to deflect advances all night. Eastern European men are by no means shy, I’ve come to find out.

Just as I complete that thought, I feel heat radiating close against my back. Someone is standing directly behind me. As I turn around slowly, the first thing I see is a wall of muscle dressed in a suit. His chest is that expansive. The suit is a fine weave, tailored and black. Hugo Boss, maybe? A crisp, white dress shirt lies perfectly beneath a dark, platinum-colored tie that has miniscule black squares set within a grid-like pattern.

I tilt my chin up higher and come face to face with my darkest fantasy framed within a stunning visage. It’s Juric’s main bodyguard. I couldn’t make out his features before. The distance and darkness made it difficult, and I was focused purely on my mark.

A full force body rush washes over me. I have never seen a man like him before. If I were forced to describe him in one word, I’d choose “imposing” or maybe “dominant.” Those are the only terms that would do him justice.

Close cropped coal black hair frames a broad, masculine forehead. Slowly roaming his face, I quickly become lost in gunmetal gray eyes set beneath perfectly arched dark brows. His eyes are hypnotic and pale enough to seem out of place in contrast with his clean-shaven, olive-hued complexion. Any model on the planet would commit serious crimes in exchange for his chiseled bone structure and perfectly straight nose; yet his mouth is set in a taut, grim line. It’s so firmly closed, in fact, that I can’t make out the natural shape of his lips.

There’s a cruel beauty about this powerful man, the likes of which I’ve never encountered before. His eyes are flinty, tight, and watchful as I drink him in. I would peg him to be in his mid-thirties, because he appears both hardened and worldly, like a soldier who has seen too many gruesome deaths firsthand.

Breathe in, Carew. Calm, nice and easy. A well-guarded part of me has privately yearned for an alpha male strong enough to take charge. Why in the hell did he have to land in my vicinity in the middle of a job? And in Croatia, of all the places on earth!

Recovering quickly from his jarring, magnetic appeal, I hold his frosty stare and wait.

Nothing.

I decide to address him in English. “Was there something you needed?”

Against my will, I feel my heart begin to thunder away in my chest as those impenetrable eyes lock onto my lips. Thick seconds pass and my heart flutters like a hummingbird.

Oh God, this man is sex in a suit.

His expression is more animal than human. Wild and fearsome. The scientific portion of my brain is holding everything tightly in check, but my body is reacting according to its own agenda: nipples hardening, Tanga panties dampening. I can’t hide the fact that I want him intensely, more so than any other man I’ve ever encountered before.

Keep it together, Carew ….

Stern, smoky eyes lock onto mine with penetrating intensity, as if daring me to look away.

A low, rich rumble cuts straight through the thumping beats of the music as he finally addresses me. “Mr. Juric would like you to join him.”

That voice … so fluid and strong.

His accent is very thick and all of his R’s flow like a river. However, his English is well-spoken and articulate.

I clear my throat and try to act casual while feeling anything but. The smooth glass of the bar presses against my back, and he’s so close that he nearly brushes up against me. Is that amazing, masculine scent coming from him? He smells like amber, warm spice, and perhaps a little vanilla. It’s not a cologne I know. I would remember.

I suddenly feel out of sorts but manage to reply, “Oh, well, tell him thank you. However, I’m just lovely right here.”

Alert eyes watch me carefully as he states, “You need to rethink your answer.”

The nerve! I’m going to play supremely hard to get now. My goal is to be invited back to his boss’ mansion so I can get my hot little fingers on his computer, which we know he keeps in the study just off his master bedroom. Juric is going to have to beg before he has my company tonight. If I make it too easy, chances are he won’t try to get me back to his place. Our intel tells us that Juric likes a challenge in everything he does, and I’m more than capable of giving him one.

I tilt my head to the side and give Mr. Imposing a smile that intentionally doesn’t make it to my eyes. “I’ve thought about it, and I believe that I told you that I’m just fine right here.”

I flinch inwardly as his wide shoulders lock in place and those already stormy eyes turn severe. He pins me with a dangerous scowl before turning away to stalk back toward Juric. The people in his path wisely choose self-preservation and get the hell out of his way, lest he run them the fuck over.

He bends down to tell Juric the blow-off news. Just as Juric leans to look around Mr. Imposing, I casually redirect my attention toward the action-packed dance floor.

Come on, Juric, like a tiger to a juicy steak, let’s see what you throw out for me next ….

Just as I take the final sip of my martini, a sexy voice behind me asks in Croatian, “Hocete plesati?” Want to dance?

Turning around, I take in the handsome Croatian boy. He’s maybe twenty or twenty-one, who knows, but he’s built like a soccer player. He is smartly dressed in a fitted, dark blue Lacoste polo and sleek, charcoal-colored dress pants. Perfect.

I’ve studied my Rosetta Stone Croatian language discs relentlessly since we started putting this job together three months ago, but my comprehension of the Croatian language is basic at best. As long as it’s spoken in direct sentences, I can pick out several words and conclude what they mean to say from that. However, speaking it myself is a different matter. The language feels clumsy on my tongue.

Grinning at him, I respond politely in English, “I’d love to dance with you. Lead the way.”

Nothing like a little competition to spur you on, Juric ….

Thankfully, he doesn’t speak as we make our way out to the quaking dance floor. His smooth hands wrap around my waist, his warm thumb brushing against the exposed skin at my side, and we begin to sway together amid the sea of partiers. His pretty, dark eyes gleam down at me, full of hope that he’s about to get lucky.

You’re hot, but not tonight, my friend.

We continue our smooth rhythm and begin to dance even more provocatively, hips grinding and warm palms seeking out bare skin, as we dance beneath the vivid, pulsing lights. I’m really getting paid for this?

My other three jobs in the field were less involved than this one. Two were in-and-outs that took place in posh European hotels where I never even had contact with my marks. The last one was three months ago in Paris. Our American client was convinced that his nefarious ex-wife was secretly selling off his French-based assets, including a multi-million dollar jewelry and art collection. He needed us to get into her personal records to prove this was indeed the case. I pretended to be an American investor who didn’t mind shady deals. With our client’s money, I even bought an heirloom piece of his mother’s jewelry that he was distraught to lose. She was guilty. One night I snuck into her apartment in the Marais and retrieved all the information we needed. He was able to find the peace of mind he was seeking, knowing she was guilty, and take proper legal action.

I’m startled when a large hand bands around my bare upper arm in an unapologetically painful grip. My first instinct is to deflect it, grasp hard with both hands and pull the person off balance to the ground, but I hold fast out of curiosity. The last thing I want to do is draw unwanted attention to myself, especially in public. In the same instant I see the anger and irritation begin to rise up on my dance partner’s handsome face.

This is not going to be pretty.

The powerful bodyguard speaks directly against my ear. “Turn to him and say goodbye. You are coming with me to have a drink with my employer. Now.”

A shiver runs from my neck to my toes at his warm breath and the unwavering intent flowing through his deep, rich voice. This is my in. I turn to tell the young guy goodnight, but he’s already arguing in Croatian with Mr. Imposing.

Oh no, this is so not good!

The valiant kid may be tall, perhaps six-foot-two, but this bodyguard is absolutely tremendous in size. I’m five-foot-eight and at least six-foot tall in my fancy high heels, but he completely towers over me.

There is absolutely no way this kid would last a single round in a fight with him. Actually, there would be no fight, just a brutal knockout, if the size of his huge paws are any indication of what can be done with them. Also, based on his rigid demeanor, I get the feeling he’s ex-military or at least highly trained in some form of hand-to-hand combat.

Mr. Imposing keeps his hand locked around my arm as he leans forward, way invading the kid’s personal space, and growls at him in Croatian, “Odjebi natrag.” Step the fuck back.

Assuming my translation is accurate, it’s correct or very close to something along those threatening lines.

Direct, of course. Something must have clicked because the kid throws me a look of utter disbelief that says, ‘I feel sorry for you.’ He turns on his heel in disgust and disappears into the packed crowd. Juric must have strong connections with the club’s owner. There are cameras everywhere and the watchful bouncers would definitely not tolerate a female being manhandled on their premises. Unless, of course, you are a powerful, influential man like Vasilije Juric. I bet computer chip manufacturing is not the only pie he has his fingers in. He must be politically connected, as well. In smaller European countries, money and politics are cozy bedfellows.

Before I know it, I’m swiftly led away from the dance floor by a hot, callused hand still latched possessively onto my arm.

The bodyguard releases his hold after we are isolated behind the black silky rope separating the alcove from the rest of the club. I should be nervous, yet heady anticipation courses through my veins.

“Please sit, my lovely, and tell me your name.” Vasilije Juric delicately pats the snow white sofa seat beside him.

He is calm, almost regal, and speaks elegant English. Perfectly cut, medium brown hair frames a serious face with almond-shaped, cinnamon-brown eyes. He’s quite refined and looks handsome in a beautifully tailored, dark gray designer suit.

From the dossier our intel group compiled, I know that he is forty-seven years old and divides his time between a luxury home in Zagreb and his seaside mansion in Dubrovnik. He studied at Cambridge and it shows in his confident but careful speech and controlled image. Based on his business prowess, he is undoubtedly wicked intelligent.

He takes my fingers gently within his cool hand as I sit down beside him and cross my legs in a smooth, lady-like manner. He’s watching every move I make very closely.

“Good evening. My name is Sonia Reese.”

I’m used to the fake names by now. Often I enjoy pretending to be someone else. If all goes according to plan, he’ll never have an inkling as to who I really am.

His silky, full lips lower slowly to skim across the back of my fingers in a chivalrous kiss. Old school. Very nice.

“Sonia, it is a pleasure to meet you, my lovely. My name is Vasilije Juric. Thank you for joining me this evening. Tell me, may I offer you Champagne?”

His hand sweeps out toward a silver ice bucket placed in the middle of a circular, chrome and glass table. Rivulets of condensation trail down the sides of the shiny bucket, and a bottle of Krug Clos d’Ambonnay chills in the ice. I adore Champagne and the latest issue of Food & Wine magazine I flipped though in the Atlanta airport on the way here pegged this coveted prize at $3,500 a bottle. He doesn’t mess around.

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” I reply breezily.

Stay calm, Carew. Keep everything in check. It’s game time.

Juric smiles and flashes a perfect set of gleaming teeth. He leans forward and pours me a slim crystal flute full of the bubbling beauty. As he does this, I chance a brief glance up at the bodyguard, who stands directly beside Juric’s shoulder. The guard stares straight out, dutifully scanning the crowd with a look of suspicion plastered on his stunning face. As if anyone would dare approach Juric with his three fearsome attack guards at hand. Not likely in the least.

He seems to sense my eyes on him and turns his face from the crowd toward mine. His tumultuous gaze is mesmerizing … and impossible to read. Our quick exchange is broken as Juric sits back and hands me the fizzing flute. A folded linen square rests beneath my glass. His manners are impeccable.

“Now tell me, Sonia, I’m curious. What are you doing here in Zagreb?”

I level him with a smile and lean in seductively. “I’m here on a modeling assignment for Bulgari. A jewelry show, actually.”

He places a hand on my knee and smoothly strokes my skin. It’s not unpleasant in the least, just different. His moves are so confident. I study his face and muse that he must have been stunning in his twenties. He’s still good-looking, although almost too refined and pretty for my taste. I naturally lean toward men with a hard edge to them. The uncommon. But I have to admit, his genuine charm puts me at ease.

When he lifts his flute in a toast, I raise mine as well. With a flirtatious glint in his eyes, he says, “A toast to newfound friends and adventures. Zivjeli, Sonia.”

“Zivjeli? ‘Cheers,’ I presume?” I ask in a sensual voice.

“Yes, my lovely. Zivjeli. Cheers.”

“Zivjeli.” I say sweetly as I lift the flute to my lips. The flavor of the French wonder is a vibrant symphony in my mouth. It has a creamy, delicate texture combined with a blend of fresh fruit, the dominant one being raspberries. In a word: divine.

“Why, Mr. Juric, you certainly have excellent taste in champagne.”

He grins wolfishly, obviously pleased with the praise, and leans in closer. When he’s inches away, I begin to detect a crisp cologne. It’s fresh and subtle and reminds me of mountain air. I’m certain that it’s also rare and costly. This man would settle for nothing less.

He says in a quiet murmur, “I could tell from across the room that you are a model. I’m very attracted to your timeless beauty, Sonia. Let’s cut to the chase, my sweet, because as you will soon learn, I am a direct man. What will it take to get you to accompany me back to my villa this evening?”

His hand sweeps out before us and he continues on before I have a chance to reply. “While this is a pleasant distraction, it’s merely a gathering of children. I have, how should I say, far more distinct and private adventures in mind for us.”

My brain blips into freeze mode for a second before I quickly recover. I’ve never been propositioned for sex so directly. I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Man, he’s smooth. I bet he’s done this countless times … with countless models. His accent is so sexy that it lulls you into compliance. All right, Juric. Let’s play.

I look innocently into his warm eyes. “I’m not a call girl, Mr. Juric. I’m in town for work and received an exclusive invitation from Bulgari to come here tonight.” I pause and sigh. “I would also enjoy getting to know you better, but going to your home, well, I simply don’t know you. You could very well be dangerous.”

His manicured hand weaves its way beneath my hair, coming to rest in a possessive hold on the back of my bare neck.

His low voice purrs close to my cheek. “Oh yes, Sonia, you are right. I could be dangerous. But, I assure you, the only danger you are likely to encounter is exhaustion, after I make you come over and over. You will be too satiated to move, my beauty.”

My lips fight a twitch of amusement at his direct approach. This man must have the libido of a stallion, or at least he’s convinced that he does.

I lightly touch his thigh while responding in a coy voice, “Your offer is intriguing. However, I need to freshen up. Let me have a bit of time to think it over, if that’s all right with you, Mr. Juric?”

“Please, Vasilije, I insist. And yes, my lovely, take your time. But know that when I want something, I will stop at nothing to obtain it.” His eyes blaze with serious intent.

Hmm, would you even steal to get what you want?

As I stand and reach for my clutch on the low table, he calls out a command in Croatian to his lead guard. “Zoran, idi s njom.” Zoran, go with her.

Zoran? Now that’s just sexy.

As I step down from our platform, I sashay in an exaggerated way for Juric’s benefit. I cross the two steps toward the hanging rope and wait. Zoran leans in close and extends his long arm around me to unhook the clasp. A shiver runs through me from his heat and closeness.

I begin to step forward, but Zoran reaches down to clasp my hand in his. I nearly jerk back in surprise at the electric connection as his huge, rough hand presses hotly against mine. I look up and see the look in his eyes. The attraction and hunger is there as plain as day, if only for a split second.

In the next instant he breaks contact, re-latches the cord, and clears his features of any emotion. Gruffly, he commands, “Come.” He’s all business once again as he begins to move us through the crowd. As we wind our way to the restrooms, he’s in the lead with my hand still clasped possessively in his. If I was on my own it would have taken me twice as long to get there. People just move away from him, as if sensing from a distance his predatory nature. It’s clear that humanity simply fears him.

Who is this man?

When we arrive at the long, dimly lit hallway, there are only a few people milling about. Most of them are hanging out on their mobiles, either texting or chatting away. One couple at the far corner are all over each other, making out in the shadows as if no one were watching. Good for them.

I’m about to take the last few steps into the ladies room when he takes hold of my bare shoulders and pushes me right up against the modern, sleek bamboo wall. I gasp as his impressive, hard body presses full-on against mine. His palms feel like warm weights against my cool skin as he pins me like a Monarch butterfly trapped on a piece of felt.

“Wha-what are you doing?” I stammer, genuine concern threading through my voice as I crane my neck up to speak to him. What is his angle?

He takes his time scanning my face and then those tempestuous eyes wander lower, to my heaving breasts.

When his liquid-gray eyes meet mine after what seems like forever, he finally says in his low, rich voice, “I know that you’re up to something. This is your only chance to walk away and I suggest you take it, woman.”

My body betrays me as I begin to tremble beneath his unyielding hold. His intensity is nearly overwhelming.

Wait, there is no way that I’m about to let my nerves and attraction to this total stranger interfere with my mission.

“Listen, Zoran.” His eyes flare as I say his name. “Whatever your issue is with me, or even Americans in general, you need to drop it. I’m having a nice evening and I have done nothing to deserve your suspicion. It’s not my fault that your boss is hot for me. It’s so not my problem if you happen to be jealous. You need to back off, got it?”

He’s stone still.

I have never seen a human being that motionless. Damn, damn! I’ve just thoroughly pissed him off!. His features give nothing away. He’s on total lockdown, but the energy rolling off him is fearsome.

Fascinated, I watch his face come down ever so slowly toward mine and just when I think that he’s about to kiss me, he tilts his head at the last possible second before our lips meet. He speaks quietly against my ear, so close that those sensual, full lips touch my sensitive skin, causing it to warm. His hot breath mimics a heated caress. My eyes flutter closed at the intensity of it.

He whispers to me low and slow, like a lover, “You need to be taught manners, princeza.”

I gasp softly and stare up at him, surprised by his perplexing choice of words. He watches me with certainty, as if he knows all my darkest secrets. I tremble against him, unable to control the potent, raw electricity running between us.

Without warning, he takes a wide step back, releasing me completely. He lifts his chin and says brusquely, “Go in.”

Sucking in a breath, I do just that, barely able to coordinate my shaky steps into the ladies’ room. I’m unnerved by the little thrill I felt when he called me ‘princess’ in his sensual language.

Chapter Two

Nerves of Steel

Once I’m locked within the farthest stall, I whisper, “Alan, Breck, am I coming through clearly?”

Breck immediately replies. “Copy, Carew, go ahead.”

“I haven’t much time. I’ll be on my way to Juric’s home shortly. Go ahead and make your way over there and I’ll exit as planned off the balcony of his master bedroom. Make sure you take out that security camera and interrupt the alarm when you see my signal that I’m ready. I’m ditching the earpiece now. His guard is smarter than most and I can’t risk being caught. These men will play dirty if they catch me in the act. I’ll insist on driving my rental so you’ll have a trace on me en route.”

“Copy that, Carew. Proceed with caution.”

“Always. Over.”

I pull the teeny ear bud from my right ear and flush it down the toilet. I wouldn’t put it past Zoran and his annoyingly suspicious personality to check my entire body for wires or devices before allowing me to be alone with his boss. As much of a pain in the ass as he is, I have to admit that he’s right. He should be cautious. I’m about to harm Vasilije Juric, in one way or another. And he won’t be able to stop me ….

My director is well aware of Juric’s affinity for beautiful, challenging women. Being a single, virile businessman, Vasilije Juric excels at the sport of running through them like hurdles at a track meet. Our director decided that, considering our target’s multiple bodyguards, only a female operative would be able to gain access to his bedroom without using violent measures.

We’re not in the business of killing unless it’s in self-defense. Hardcore mercenaries can have those bloody jobs. Our firm specializes in the acquisition of highly guarded data. We only grant meetings to individuals who have been referred to us directly by past clients. Even then we turn down over fifty percent of those requests. To say that my firm is discriminating would be the understatement of the millennium. We charge a premium and dissect each and every job in the conceptual phase, thus all but eliminating the possibility of error. But there’s always a chance something could go wrong, and I’ve heard my fair share of horror stories where it came down to kill or be killed. Luckily, I’ve been trained for those circumstances. With my skill at martial arts, I qualify as a lethal weapon.

I have studied the specialized martial art of Aikido since I was a young child, due in part to the stalwartness of my Marine father. I still find it a fascinating art form. With Aikido, you are not the aggressor; you use the momentum of your attacker and reroute that energy to deflect any harm from your body. It truly is ‘the way of harmonious spirit.’ On the rare occasion that I’ve had to use my skills to keep me from harm, it has worked brilliantly.

As I check my reflection in the mirror and wash my hands, my mind flits back to an old, painful memory. Early one evening, when I was only three years old, my father arrived home from work. My mother realized that she was nearly out of coffee and was going to pop over to the market to pick some up. She walked out the door and was never seen again.

My father was frantic, assisting the police for months and months during their extensive investigation. Things like this simply did not happen in our tiny Georgia town of fewer than fifteen thousand. Her station wagon was found behind a dairy two miles from her destination. There were traces of her blood smeared on the driver’s seat, but unfortunately nothing in the way of fingerprints that might lead to a suspect.

My father was nearly destroyed. She was his world. The structure the military had given him and the knowledge that he had a duty to raise his only child kept him level-headed and strong. The day after my fourth birthday, he took me to the top martial arts school in our area. He wanted me to be prepared for any threat. And I am.

After applying a final sweep of Sephora baby doll pink gloss, I pull in a calming breath and head toward the door. Here we go … show time.

As I step out of the safety of the restroom, I notice that Zoran is lightly touching his earpiece and speaking in Croatian. His words are low and quick, too fast for me to catch. His eyes sweep over me in a full body scan that makes my arm hairs stand on end right before he clasps my hand and rumbles, “Mr. Juric is waiting. Let’s go.”

The music is thumping hard with a fabulous techno beat. Gorgeous bodies grind against one another on the heaving dance floor. A few sexy, latex-clad dancers hang from suspended cages. Wicked cool. Now this is the way a club should be set up.

We make our way back to the VIP area and once Zoran steps aside, slowly releasing my hand in the process, I see that Juric is standing, obviously ready to depart.

He addresses me confidently. “I trust that you have made your decision, Sonia?”

I close the distance between us, clasp my fingers together, and say sweetly, “I would love to be your companion for the night, Vasilije, but on one condition.”

A dark brow arches in question. “And that would be?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing, but I would feel more comfortable following you home in my rental car. I’d like to know that I can leave whenever I choose. Call it being vigilant, I suppose.” I look down shyly at my heels.

He gives a short, amused laugh. “You are a delightful little minx, aren’t you? Yes, of course. My car will lead and my additional men will follow you, to make certain that you do not get lost. Sound fine, darling?”

“Oh yes, that works for me.” I give him a serene smile and hope that he gives up the weird romantic banter soon. It’s just creepy.

I purposefully keep my eyes averted from the lone person who seems intent on gaining access to my secrets … Zoran. I bet that man is a stellar poker player. Too bad I won’t be around long enough to find out. After this evening I’ll simply disappear, never to be seen again by either of them.

Juric’s hand reaches around my waist and lands softly on my lower back. “Shall we, then?”

I flutter my lashes and allow him to lead me past the two hulking men guarding the back door. The cool evening air sweeps across my bare arms and legs. I can’t help but long for the black cashmere wrap that I left back in my hotel room. There is a chill in the early April air. No matter, I’ll crank the heat once we’re en route.

I know that his sprawling estate lies just on the fringes of Zagreb, perhaps five to seven miles from this bustling area of town. I don’t want him to pick up on the fact that I know where he lives, so I remain quiet on the brief walk over to my car. Zoran is a few steps behind us and I dutifully ignore him. Juric rubs my back in slow, small circles as we walk.

Once we reach my silver compact, he lifts the keys from my hands and takes charge, opening the door and holding my hand with care as he helps me into my ride.

“Please wear your seatbelt, my darling. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Of course.” I give him my best ‘I can’t wait to get in your pants’ smile.

Headlights illuminate us from behind.

He lifts his head to peer behind my car. “Ah, here are my men now. We will lead the way, with Zoran driving. He’ll be certain not to lose you. Isn’t that right, Zoran?”

The huge Croatian scans the dark street as he responds to Juric. “Da.” Yes.

Juric closes my door and I watch them walk to his stunning, black Bugatti Veyron. It’s one of the fastest street legal cars on the planet and it screams sex. Zoran gets in to drive, and Juric lowers his body down into the passenger seat. His two additional guards are ready to go behind me in a sweet black Maserati. Inside of a minute our mini convoy takes off into the black night.

I have my plan locked down in my mind as the miles swiftly pass. I’m confident that the job will go off without a hitch. We’re set for a six a.m. flight out of the capital on a private jet, heading straight to Paris with a brief layover before we transfer to a commercial flight. After that we fly direct to the Atlanta International Airport. We’ve never missed a flight yet.

The lights of the city have given way to tall, elegant, gas-powered street lamps that illuminate the sprawling gates of stunning mansions. The people who live here are extraordinarily wealthy. As we drive, we wind higher up to the top of a steep hill and the pretty lights of the city twinkle below. So, he likes to gaze out over his realm? How arrogant of you, Juric. We’ll soon see what business secrets you’re hiding ….

We stop momentarily and Zoran punches in the six digit code at the security gate. We acquired the code last evening after a stake-out several hundred yards away. Breck and Alan hid in the heavy trees that surround his property. It’s amazing what a set of high-powered night vision goggles will allow you to see. I’ll need that code to escape when we have what we’ve come for.

I’ve seen his mansion online via satellite but I’m still amazed by the architectural beauty of it. The structure is both Italianate and historic. From what I see illuminated by the myriad of spotlights on the façade, the villa is composed entirely of pale gray white marble. It is two stories high, with a grand portico made up of sweeping marble arches that run the impressive length of the home. Each of the Corinthian columns stands proud, providing just the right touch of grandeur.

We pull to a rolling stop beside a stone fountain that ten men could bathe in comfortably. I smooth my dress and step out of the safety of my car. I’m feeling equal parts determined and nervous but I’m eager to proceed and mark this off my list. Another successful job for yet another satisfied customer.

Juric strides toward me with a wolfish smile on his refined face. “Ah, Sonia, come. Let me show you my home.”

I purposefully act a little shy, wanting him to think that I’m unaccustomed to seeing such an impressive home, to reassure him that I’m anything but a threat to him. Little does he know I could be more tenacious than a PC cyber virus.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Zoran watching us carefully. Ugh, I hope he doesn’t follow us into the bedroom! Does he ever turn his intensity down a notch?

“I hope you don’t mind, Sonia, but my lead guard, Zoran, is such a stickler for my safety. With your permission, of course, I would ask that he perform a quick search of your person. Would this be all right, my lovely?”

I was certain that this was coming. I have nothing to hide. Not exactly ….

“Oh my. Well, I suppose that would be all right. I’ve never been searched before, Vasilije.” I clutch my purse as if I’m uncomfortable and a little frightened.

Juric says something to Zoran that causes the bodyguard to step in close to me. I try to keep my breathing even but it’s increasingly difficult to do so around him.

“Hold your arms out, please,” he says in a methodical, nearly clinical tone. Nothing like the heated, tension-filled exchange we had in the shadowy club hallway. Juric is occupied scanning emails on his black iPhone a few feet away.

I can’t stifle a full body shiver as Zoran lowers down into a crouch and spans my right ankle with both his giant hands. They sweep straight up my leg to the top of my thigh. His touch makes me feel lightheaded. I try to think of something else, anything to distract me from his electrifying touch.

What is he searching for? A knife or a miniature gun? This dress allows for no secrets and he must know that. After he runs his hands up my other leg he stands, towering over me, and reaches out to place his hands on my shoulders. I flinch and he notices. His brows draw together and he frowns as he slows his movements. Is he trying not to frighten me? Why should he care?

I suck in a breath as his hot, rough hands move from my shoulders down my bare arms to encircle my slim wrists. He pulls them outward with surprising gentleness.

Holding my eyes with his cool, calculating gaze, he says, “Leave them there.”

With arms held away from my sides, I wait for the examination to continue. He spreads his hands and encircles my waist as a simultaneous flash of need erupts deep within me. If he doesn’t stop soon he’ll certainly know how his touch is affecting me ….

“Please,” I whisper quietly as his hands slowly sweep up to the base of my peaked breasts. The material of my dress is a thin silk blend. Everything, including my aroused nipples, is on display through the flimsy material. Ignoring my plea, he stares at them for a moment longer than is acceptable before turning away to tell Juric in Croatian, “She’s good.”

I drop my arms back down and mentally berate myself for nearly salivating over this inscrutable man. I straighten my shoulders and ask Juric, “Are we finished with the formalities, then?”

He doesn’t seem apologetic in the least for allowing me to be frisked. It’s a simple precaution in order for a stranger to be welcomed into his inner sanctum, a necessary means of survival for him. How daunting to have to go through that on a daily basis, to never be sure who you can trust.

Juric leads the way as we enter a foyer the size of an art gallery. Three stories soar upward to a stunning dome that, at this distance, appears to be inlaid with silver. But what’s hanging suspended from the curved ceiling makes me gasp in sheer delight.

“Oh my, Vasilije, is that a Florian Cassel chandelier?” I can’t hide the genuine thrill in my voice.

Standing motionless in the foyer, he grins down at me like a proud peacock.

“Why yes, my beauty. I commissioned him to create the piece especially for this space. Are you familiar with his work?”

Florian Cassel, one of the most celebrated modern Parisian glass blowers. His work is beyond extraordinary. I’ve always been fascinated with glass art and in my humble opinion, Florian’s work is hands down the finest in the world. I regularly swoon over his creations in art review magazines, and this man actually possesses one of his pieces. Unbelievable! This shocking piece of art must cost upwards of half a million dollars. For a chandelier.

I stare in wonder at the twisting swirls of colored glass that flow downward into a twelve-foot-long pyramid. Turquoise, white, gold, and pewter colors create a kaleidoscopic riot of perfection.

Still gazing upwards, I say softly, “Yes, he had an exhibit at a botanical garden back in the states that I attended while in college. It was one of the most beautiful collections of art that I have ever seen. You’re very fortunate to have one of his pieces.”

He seems serious as he says, “I work hard and make certain to acquire everything that I want. I admire a woman who has passion for life, for art. Come, my beauty.”

His arm closes around my waist and he ushers me through the room beside him. We head up the wide, curved set of white Bianchi marble steps that lead to the second story of the mansion. No messing around with a tour this evening. He must be ready to get busy. Bring your best, bad boy ….

Halfway up the elegant staircase, I stop to stare in awe. The Cassel wonder is now nearly at eye level. Ribbons of striated color flow through each mesmerizing twist. I could stand here all night and never get enough. Mesmerized, I nearly reach out for the railing so I can bend forward for a closer look. But then I remember my training and compose myself. I must not leave fingerprints if I can help it, especially on an object that no one else will have touched.

I sense that I’m being watched from below and dip my chin to lock eyes with Zoran. His hands are crossed at his wrists and rest just below his belt line. He stares at me with a narrowed scowl that is completely terrifying. It’s as if he’s furious that I’m here at all. How could he sense anything wrong? There’s no way that I’m not the first woman to visit his boss’ house.

Perhaps he’s just jealous, thinking that Juric is about to get lucky rather than him. Who cares? I have a job to complete and I can’t afford to let this gorgeous man distract me.

With a dismissive toss of my hair, I arch a brow at him and turn to face Juric before continuing up the staircase. Nothing you can do to stop me now, Zoran. The train has left the station. I’m about to hack your boss’ PC, big guy.

We make our way in silence down a large hallway inlaid with mosaic tile. The floor is so intricate. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. A geometric vision of black and white with shades of amber, each perfectly placed to form an ingenious pattern that runs the length of the hall. I nearly feel guilty walking across it. I’m half-tempted to take off my spiked high heels.

The hallway must be seventy feet long, and masterpieces abound. An LED spotlight illuminates one stunning work of original art after another: Miro, Kandinsky, Turner. On and on. This mansion would be a cat burglar’s wet dream. No wonder the gates are so solid and the guards out in full force. The value of his art collection far outweighs that of his glorious mansion.

A double set of carved French oak doors await us. They look both medieval and romantic at the same time. He pushes down on one of the metal handles and steps back, gesturing with with his manicured hand. “After you, my dear.”

Ah, Vasilije, always the elegant gentleman. I almost feel guilty about what is about to happen to you … almost.

I step into a candlelit erotic fantasy. The first word that comes to mind is masculine … very masculine. The walls are a dark charcoal gray and the ceiling looks like hardwood, probably from an endangered tropical rainforest. The entire vibe is far more intimate and primal compared to the controlled grace of the rest of his opulent home.

At the center of the room is a massive black bed. The quilted leather headboard and footboard are oversized and appear so sumptuous that I can just imagine myself being thrust up against one while being fucked ruthlessly from behind. Even his duvet and sheets are a sleek midnight black, undoubtedly the highest thread count that money can buy. This wicked bedroom is made for down and dirty sex. Period.

The door clicks closed behind me. I turn with a “come hither” smile and await his move. He steps forward with smooth grace and strokes my hair while whispering, “I took one look at you tonight in that seductive dress of yours and I knew that I absolutely had to have you beneath me in my bed tonight. Nobody else would do.”

He leans in closer and touches my lips in a heated kiss as his hands reach to release the bow tie at the back of my neck. I moan softly as his smooth, experienced lips take their time exploring my mouth. He’s a skilled, passionate kisser. I can easily understand why women are drawn to him.

As the top part of my dress falls and bares my chest, I shimmy it down the rest of the way to pool on the floor. He breaks the kiss for a moment to pull back and stare at my pink-tipped breasts. He makes a rough sound of male approval as he grabs my ass from behind and pulls me forcefully up against his hard torso. I can feel his thick erection pulsing in need against his expensive wool slacks.

Timing, Carew … time it perfectly so he doesn’t call out.

I allow him to deepen the kiss and fondle my breasts before I pull back lightly in his embrace. “I want you so much, Vasilije. Please, allow me to undress you.”

I reach up to seductively undo his midnight blue silk tie. Once it’s unknotted, I start on the buttons of his perfectly pressed white dress shirt. I marvel at his tanned, muscled torso. He’s incredibly fit and must work out on a daily basis. Not bad at all for a guy in his late forties. If it weren’t for my assignment, I may have been taken with him regardless.

“Oh, you’re so gorgeous,” I coo up at him.

He groans in both need and approval.

Here we go ….

I run my hands lightly back and forth against his hot torso, allowing my ballerina pink nails to skim across his nipples. Lull him ….

With my right arm extended up toward his neck, I take an incredibly quick step to my left and pivot around him. In the split second it takes my feet to lock into place, I clamp my arm like an immobile vice around his neck. Self-preservation kicks in as he immediately fights for air by clawing at my arm, trying to wrench free.

My left arm is banded across his mouth, preventing him from calling out. His struggle becomes furious. I loop my right leg around his ankle, sweeping his legs out from under him and bringing him down to the floor, where the frantic scramble for freedom resumes. He’s desperate to get loose, but I’ve got him pinned and he’s running out of oxygen.

It should take about forty-five seconds for him to pass out in this sleeper hold. He’s very strong and I need every ounce of strength to keep both arms latched tightly together. As his motions begin to slow I feel a tinge of remorse. He seems like a nice man.

“Shhh. You’ll be fine,” I whisper softly to him.

It’s doubtful he can comprehend what I’m saying. He’s about to black out from lack of oxygen. Once he’s completely still I count to five before releasing him.

Fast and furious, Carew!

I whip the tie from his neck and secure it around his head and mouth, forming a quick, impromptu gag. Next I race into his closet and grab two more of his neckties. I make quick work of both his hands and feet. Even when he wakes, he’s not going anywhere. At least not until I’m long gone.

I slip my dress back on and slide out of my heels. I can’t escape with them anyhow, they’ll only slow me down. I reach under the inserts of my shoes for the hidden set of thin, latex gloves. I was careful not to touch anything in the house on the way in. Well, with the exception of my mark.

Our surveillance team learned from the wiretaps on his mobile that he works from home on the weekends. His office is located just off this bedroom. I race to the interior door in the far corner of the room, close to the balcony. As I enter I see a sleek mahogany desk sitting before a curved wall of glass windows. An oversized Mac and keyboard are the only things on top of it.

I turn on the screen and immediately type in his lengthy password. My director was able to obtain it within the past twelve hours. He probably had to pay off someone in Juric’s network. Last I heard, the surveillance team was having a hard time cracking his encryption coding. This was part of the reason I had to be sent in. Direct access to his computer makes my job so much easier, especially now that I have the password.

Luckily, the password is correct and I quickly scan through his files. Soon I locate the design I’m looking for.

I print out the four crucial pages, and while they are coming out of his printer, I note that this design is very different from the edited specs our client showed us. Juric must have come up with his own programming design, one that’s completely unique but performs the same function. I’m not an engineer but I have a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t steal anything. I’m incensed that our client sent us out on a bad lead. These missions aren’t easy to put together, and now it seems it was all a waste of time. But there’s nothing I can do about it now. Once I have the four pages tucked away within my clutch, I clear the screen, turn the monitor off, and race back to the bedroom.

Juric is just beginning to stir. I need to get the hell out of here. I flick on a chrome lamp that rests by the bed—one time on and then off. This is my signal to the crew staked out just outside the property line to briefly interrupt the feed to the security camera covering the balcony as well as the alarm system. Barefoot, I creep out into the chilly night, quietly closing the glass door behind me. I have to be quick, knowing that they are only giving me a two minute window with the cameras and alarm. If the guards sense the disruption is anything more than a glitch in the electricity, they will lock down everything and I’ll be trapped on the property.

I’m silent as I cross over the smooth stone of the balcony to the carved balustrade. The garden below is large and well maintained. I just need to get down and around the corner of the mansion to my vehicle. Swinging first one then the other leg over the ledge, I hold tightly to the thick, smooth columns as I lower down into a crouch. Once I’m dangling from the base, I peer down and see that the pruned bushes are directly below me. Perfect.

My feet are almost touching the cool leaves as I let go and do my best to control the fall. As I land, mostly in the bush, fresh scrapes open up from the force of hitting the branches. No matter, I’ve had worse. Within seconds I’m up and jogging swiftly to the edge of the building. I peek around the corner and see one of the guards on the far side of the fountain. He’s smoking a cigarette with his back to me. Excellent.

I reach down into my halter and unzip my clutch to reach for my keys. Once they are tightly in hand, I suck in a breath for courage and sprint toward my Nissan. I’m ten feet from my goal when everything explodes into mindless chaos.

A horrific growl comes from deep within the shadows. I’ve no time to look as I hit the unlock button on the fob and jump into the car. Before I can close the door, a humongous black Rottweiler leaps at the car with such force that my door is slammed violently shut. The dog barks and snarls furiously at me through the window. A thick spray of saliva coats the glass as its nails rake furiously against the car. Thank heaven I didn’t arrive two seconds later ….

I start the car in a fevered rush and I’m just about to tear out of there when I hear a terrifying shout through the window.

“Stani!” Stop.

I really don’t think so!

I glance in the rearview mirror just as Zoran swiftly rounds the back of the car and pounds once on my side window with such force that I believe he’ll surely shatter the thing. There is a gun in his other hand. My eyes widen in panic and I throw the car into gear.

He yells in an even louder, angry snarl, “Stani!”

I’m petrified and can’t look at him as he yanks on the locked doors. I’m thankful that he’s not shooting at me through the glass but I’m too scared to take the time to analyze why not.

I stomp on the gas and rip out of the circular drive. I have no idea if I ran over his foot or even if I’m dragging him along. The only thought banging about in my brain is: Damn, they’re going to be on me within moments! Drive, girl, drive!

Two shots ring out from behind me, miraculously missing the back window and tires. I’m thankful this is a moonless night. As I speed down the shadowed, cobblestone drive to the gate, I’m so eager to get the hell away that I’m half-tempted to bust through it but instead slow down and enter the code …. Come on!

It opens and I squeeze through when it’s just wide enough for my little compact to fit. With a fearful glance back, I see two sets of headlights coming after me, ripping their way down the drive at breakneck speed.

Oh God! Time to put all those driving lessons to good use.

The gate is already closing behind me, which fortunately will buy me a little time to get a head start away from this mess.

A chill slithers up my spine. I have a horrible feeling that this won’t be the last I see of the sexy, enigmatic Zoran.

Chapter Three

The Tiger

The girl has proven herself to be very difficult to control. I warned her. Twice. This never happens. I am accustomed to instant compliance. Period. Yet after I gave her the out in the hallway of the club, she still chose to continue in her pursuit of whatever she was after from Juric. I never doubted that her pretty little model act was nothing but a means to an end, but I had no way of telling my employer that. He has a weakness for gorgeous women and thinks they are harmless creatures incapable of deception. Had I tried to stop her, Juric would have only wanted her more. That’s just his nature, I’ve come to learn. Maybe now he’s learned his lesson. But she’s nothing I can’t handle.

As I stand outside of her smoking, demolished vehicle, I know that I should finish this. I should put a bullet in her head and put this disaster of a night behind me. But I can’t. There is something irresistible about this puzzling girl, and I can’t help but be intrigued.

She’s wild and untamed. So much so that I surprise myself by choosing not to walk away from the car. It would be far easier for me to just take her out. But no. I want her to explain in detail who she is and what the fuck she was after from my employer. She doesn’t know it but she’s about to be mine in every way possible.

She’s trying not to moan but even now I can hear her soft sounds of distress. I couldn’t risk losing her during the pursuit, so I took out her rear tire with my Sig Sauer. She should’ve listened to me when I told her to ‘stop’ earlier. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with this fucked up mess.

The fact that she broke through the guard rail was unexpected, but at least she seems to have made it through the crash. She’d better not have any serious injuries because a hospital is the last fucking place she’s headed.

I crouch beside her window. “Vi ste moja sadasnja, princeza.” You’re mine now, princess.

I feel it’s only fair to inform her of her fate. I decide to switch to English, wanting to be certain that she understands me clearly so she doesn’t fight back while I retrieve her from the wreckage.

“Hold still now.”

From what I can see of her face through her silky blonde hair, she seems to be teetering on the edge of blacking out; her grass-green eyes are unfocused, her breathing shallow. Her fresh-faced, golden glow has faded into a pale shadow of her earlier radiance, probably because of the blood loss. She seems to have a deep gash on her arm, and I can see that she is bruised and battered. Her small, feminine mouth opens as if she is going to protest, but she shuts it rather than question me. My eyes linger on her lips, which are plump and rosy.

She understood me, though. I can tell by the way her trembling increased after I spoke to her. I’m aware of how thick my accent is when I speak in English, so it’s good that she’s paying attention.

Before I retrieve her from the car, I remain crouched to assess the damage before taking any action. I always think my plans through before acting on them. That is simply my way.

Realizing that I will have to lie flat on my stomach amid the crushed safety glass in order to get her out, I maneuver my large frame down with caution and work my upper body inside the car. I can feel cuts on my hands from the debris. They barely register to me. I’ve crawled across worse. Far worse.

The girl is completely terrified. I watch her tremble, and her fear is so intense that I can nearly smell it on her. Even in this state, she is so gorgeous. Fighting back the torrent of lust that’s flowing hotly through my body, from her delicate floral scent to that silky blonde hair, I push hard against the seat belt latch at her hip. Nothing. Thinking that it’s jammed, I reach into my interior suit pocket and pull out a black Gerber tactical folding knife.

The weapon opens with a smooth snick as it locks into place, and a small gasp comes from my pretty prey. The blade glints perilously close to her porcelain face. If I had a sense of humor, I might smile right about now. She’s so frightened of me, as well she should be. I’m a stone cold killer. I have been ever since I was sixteen years old.

Whether she likes it or not, my beautiful little captive is going to learn a tough lesson in obedience. I’ve always been aroused by a challenge. I’ve always taken the hard road and over time I’ve even learned to yearn for it.

***

“You’re mine now, princess. Hold still now.” His deep, bass voice is hard to understand, but I catch the meaning. Please, please make it quick! That’s all I can hope for as he slowly works his head and those impossibly wide shoulders inside the car.

The deadly knife comes forward out of his breast pocket. He opens it with a practiced motion and my shaking increases tenfold. Where is he going to stick me with the awful serrated instrument? The throat? My chest? I try my best to hold still, not knowing what else to do. I’m sure as hell not about to beg him to spare me. I’m far too proud for that.

I feel a strong tug and then a back and forth motion against my hip. He’s cutting me out of the jammed seatbelt, not stabbing me to death with his gruesome weapon. I nearly sob out loud in gratitude. As the belt gives way there is nowhere to go but down, and I fall directly onto him in the dark confines of the wrecked space.

“Ugh, oh!” I can’t help but cry out pitifully as the cuts along my arms and my wrist explodes in agony. I definitely must have sprained it during the crash.

I moan pathetically, the pain all-consuming, yet he says nothing to me as I try in vain to shift my weight off his imposing frame. Before I know it, his arms are around me and he’s swiftly working us through the small space to the outside of the car.

It’s too dark to see but I know that I’m bleeding significantly. I can smell the metallic scent of my blood and feel the wet stickiness on me. I’m lightheaded but I’m uncertain whether it’s from being banged about during the crash or the blood loss.

A primal part of my brain tells me to use the last reserves of my adrenaline and try to run, to hide somewhere within the darkness. I push up slowly with my good hand and do my best to scramble back away from him, but I’m as weak as a kitten and mindful of my injuries. He has me in the steel trap of his arms. To my dismay, I get nowhere.

I shudder inwardly, thinking that even on my best day, and with two functioning hands, it would be a challenge to break away. This guy’s a fighter. That’s crystal clear.

Fading fast, I waver on the precipice of unconsciousness. I breathe in the cold air while fighting to stay lucid.

Damn, I bet he’s going to take me straight back to Juric, and they’re going to torture the hell out of me until they get the truth. Either that, or give him the sick satisfaction of watching me die a slow death. That’s what’s done to spies who are unlucky enough to get caught with their mitts in the cookie jar, right? I was fully aware of worst case scenario when I agreed to this assignment. And man, this is it, without a doubt.

Before I can blink, he’s standing upright and has pulled me along with him. In seconds I’m pressed firmly against his torso, like a floppy rag doll. My world tilts sideways as he lifts me up into his strong arms. With no words exchanged between us, he swiftly eats up the distance between us and his car.

“N-no,” I manage to sputter as I try to shift out of his grasp.

A tighter hold is all he offers. I’m an optimist by nature but I’m not dense. This is bad. I’m doomed. I can’t hold on much longer, and soon I pass out.

***

It’s a damned good thing that I live for order and duty because if there was ever a temptation to relinquish my tight control, this stunningly beautiful creature would certainly be it. Pushing the heady thought aside, I jog with her held tightly in my arms back up the incline to the Maserati. Cops or curious civilians will soon notice the broken guardrail, and I don’t need any additional fucking complications tonight.

I grabbed her small black purse, fairly sure that this was all she had with her. If not, everything else is staying inside the crushed car. She has all that she fled the mansion with tonight and that’s all that matters to me.

There is no way that she could have made it more than a foot or two on her own. She’s clearly disoriented from the crash and the blood loss is only adding to her weakened state. I feel how cold she is and bring her in closer to my body as I round the shredded guardrail.

She’s compliant for the moment, which is a relief. After her one small objection she realized there was no escape. Her left wrist is sprained badly. She cried out in pain when I dislodged her and it’s clear that she favors the swollen wrist. The deep cut on her arm needs tending to. She’ll have to wait until I have time to tend to both, which will unfortunately be over an hour from now. I’m not worried. She’ll make it.

At this point I’m uncertain of the extent of her training. I’ll get that out of her soon enough. She’s confident to the point of arrogance, but that’s innate, not taught. She must have some sort of martial arts background. One of my guards phoned my mobile while I was in pursuit to inform me that she had used a sleeper hold to choke Juric out and that the boss was pissed as fuck that she’d tricked him.

He wants her dead, or at the very least returned to him immediately so he can handle her himself. Neither will be happening. Not tonight. Not on my watch.

As I place her in the passenger seat of the car, I realize that I’ll need to come up with a cover story to explain why she was inside of it. The blood attests to the fact she was in my possession.

She fades in and out as I lean across her slim frame to buckle her in. She’s not tense with fear anymore. She’s too out of it to register that emotion.

Before rounding the car, I turn to hit the camera icon on my iPhone. After taking several images of both the demolished rail and car resting below, I feel confident that Juric is going to believe my story.

After sliding into the driver’s seat, I rip out onto the highway and speed across the city toward a nearby abandoned lot. There I can stem the bleeding on her arm. That’s all that can be done until I get her back to my home, which lies near the Bosnia and Herzegovina border.

My ancestral home is deep within a forest on the outskirts of the Plitvice Lakes National Park. Plitvice is famous throughout Europe for its multitude of waterfalls and clear lakes. In my opinion, it’s the most unique and beautiful place on the planet. It is also exceedingly isolated.

There she will be secure. Even Juric has no concept of where I live. I’m just as cautious, if not more so, with my own personal security. My brother and I wouldn’t still be alive if I wasn’t.

***

A warm, weighted touch on my bare shoulder brings me around. My eyes open and I see that we are in the parking lot of a dilapidated warehouse. Two starving stray dogs amble past the misty beams of the headlights.

As I lift my eyes to connect with his, I’m sternly told, “Don’t make a sound.”

I nod once, too weak and frightened to do anything else. I watch as he hits a button on his mobile. Someone speaks first but it’s too faint for me to hear. Zoran listens and then replies, his voice firm with terse confidence. “Da, mrtva je.” Yes, she’s dead.

Fighting tears, I begin to tremble at his horrific statement. Realizing from my reaction that I understood him, Zoran immediately clamps a firm hand across my mouth. I wouldn’t have made a sound, but he really must not want the person on the phone to hear me. Is it Juric?

My eyes flare open in panic and try to meet his, but he’s staring straight ahead, obviously very focused. I listen as he finishes a conversation that my brain is too freaked out to properly translate. Zoran’s face is mostly in shadows, making him appear even more ominous, if that’s possible. He hits the disconnect button on the touch screen and slowly removes his hand from my lips. I slink back against the door, thinking that he’s about to make good on his statement.

“Don’t move.”

He has his hand on his door handle and is outside of the car before I can manage a reply.

Shit, shit! So not good, Carew. Think!

My options are few, and my hope for escape is next to none at this point.

There has to be a solution. Every problem has one, right? Calm down and think ….

What he does next makes me question his sanity. I peek nervously out of the driver’s side window as he quickly and efficiently strips off his suit jacket, followed by his tie and dress shirt. He lays them out on the roof of the Maserati and proceeds to whip his short-sleeved, white cotton t-shirt over his head.

The vision before me threatens to overload my brain. His chest is deeply tanned. A sensual trail of dark hair leads down his heavily muscled six-pack, disappearing below his beltline. From this angle I can’t see him from the neck up, but his chest and stomach are stunning. His thickly defined muscles flex and ripple in response to his controlled actions. He looks as if he spends all his free time doing full body pull-ups. With one arm. For fun.

Wait … are those gunshot wounds? Oh hell! Now that I comprehend what they are, I count three of them. And those nasty scars are only the ones I can see in this dim light.

Just when I begin to panic, wondering why he is undressing, he begins to put his dress shirt back on and buttons it up. Is he going to strangle me with the t-shirt? My brows draw together. I really don’t want to die, and I really don’t want to go out like this, cut up and murdered in a lonely parking lot on the fringes of Zagreb. My pride goes out the window and I’m fully prepared to plead with him. Few of my Aikido defenses are possible with an incapacitated wrist and a body weakened from blood loss.

He lowers his frame back inside of the low-slung car. I cast my eyes down, not wanting to agitate him further. I’m seeping blood all over the cream-colored leather but there’s nothing I can do about it. My dress is already pretty much soaked with the stuff and I’m grateful that it’s black. I might be ill if I saw so much of my own blood smeared on me.

Quietly he says, “Hold your arm out to me.”

I comply immediately. It is shaking badly as he turns on the overhead light to inspect it. A huffed grunting sound emerges from his throat. I lean back a few inches in fear of the sound and my back presses against the door. I’m trapped in a car with a monster. Just lovely. What a way for a girl to spend a Saturday night!

I gasp as he leans away from me and rips the cotton t-shirt clean apart with one sure pull.

I start to retract my arm in self-preservation, when he says in an annoyed voice, “Stay still. You should have stopped earlier when I told you to do so. You are going to learn to listen to me.”

What in the world?

Moody gray eyes bore into mine. My lips part and I suck in a breath. Not knowing what to say, I remain silent. I certainly don’t want to make this killer angry. He drops the two jagged pieces of cloth on to the center console and takes hold of my arm on the soft underside, just above my elbow.

He leans down close to inspect the cuts on my left arm. My instinct is to pull away because he is huge and terror personified, but he has done nothing to harm me since he retrieved me from my car. Breathing hard, I remain as still as possible in this awkward scenario and hope for either release or at the very least a quick, painless death.

“Oh!” I can’t suppress the strained cry as he tends to the deepest cut. It stings like a beast. He ignores my protests. After a close inspection, he begins to tightly wrap up my damaged arm with perplexing gentleness.

When he’s satisfied he lays my arm back in my lap and says, “Keep it there.”

Am I really in a position to protest?

My injured wrist is badly swollen. It’s a heady pain only overshadowed by the deep, throbbing cut in my arm.

Why would he kill me after bandaging my arm? He could have done that back at the accident site. This makes zero sense. I want to ask more than anything, but who knows what it takes to set off a guy like this? I remain silent.

He pulls out a silver thermos from the burl wood, center cup holder, opens it, and holds it out to me. “Drink this.”

I hesitate for a moment, more stunned than anything else. Like a shot, his hand reaches out and pulls down on the back of my hair, essentially tilting my head back for him. It doesn’t hurt, it’s mostly just an acute pressure, but the overtly dominant gesture surprises me. He slowly pours the cold liquid into my mouth and I struggle to swallow.

Ice water? Hydration? Bandages? This is ludicrous!

What, does he want me to be in top form to make the interrogation process more of a participant sport? How cruel. I can see that with him. All his hardness and multi-layered stoicism.

I’ve heard that these Eastern European men can be wicked mean. It’s no shocker. Twenty years ago, bloody warfare ripped their country, formerly Yugoslavia, apart. Pain like that can linger, filtering through generations. Passed down from angry fathers and traumatized mothers. Not to mention the seasoned soldiers that are still active, protecting their country from possible attack from disgruntled enemies.

Could Zoran be one of those damaged soldiers? Heaven help me if he is. He would have been young during the war.

This is my up close and personal view of just how dangerous the spy game can truly be.

Checkmate for now, Zoran, but be warned that I’m prepping for our second psychological chess match. You just wait, big guy.

Chapter Four

Insolence

She’s a total mess. Bloody, dirty, and her hair is streaked with both. Yet she’s still unbelievably gorgeous. If she wasn’t so beautiful and arrogant I never would have bothered with her.

The reasons do not matter. What does matter is that she is going to learn a new set of rules—mine. She will curb that insolence of hers and will behave properly for me. Even though she doesn’t know it yet or isn’t likely to admit it anytime soon, she will love every fucking minute of it. And dominating her will bring me exquisite pleasure as well. Besides, it would be a damn shame to kill such a beautiful, willful woman when I know she can be tamed.

I hope by now she understands that I’m not going to murder her. If she’s as smart as I believe her to be then she should’ve figured this out back in the parking lot when I bandaged her cuts. We’ve already driven forty-five miles with heavy silence hanging between us and have nearly reached my home.

A typical American would hit me with a barrage of questions and demands, but she is an enigma and surprises me by remaining silent. However, I can see that she’s wary and as alert as circumstances have allowed her to be. After I stemmed the bleeding from her arm and forced water down her throat, she seemed to come back around.

It’s early dawn and she stares nervously out the window at the vast forest that surrounds my home. I’ve visited Germany’s Black Forest, and it’s similar to the lush, dense trees surrounding my ancestral land. The twelve acres have been in my family for eight generations, and that’s only what’s recorded on paper. Most likely it goes back much further than that.

Now my younger brother, Balthazar, and myself are the only ones left. We are the last of the Vranic legacy. Everyone else was slaughtered twenty years ago, shedding their blood in defense of this land. They died for our independence as well as the freedom of our family. That dark memory weighs on me whenever I return to my property. So much was sacrificed for this piece of heaven, for the lives of both my brother and myself.

I wish it had been me instead of them. I would step into any one of their places in a heartbeat if it could just bring one of my beloved relatives back.

I push the ever-present thought aside and focus on the matter at hand. My captive. I don’t know her real name. But I will. She will tell me everything soon enough.

If she doesn’t, I will be left with no choice but to play rough.

***

I know that we’ve traveled South. I hope that he isn’t taking me across a border into another country. I really don’t want to be caught in war-torn Bosnia or Herzegovina. That would further complicate an already dire situation.

I try to distract myself and take note of the forest we are traveling through. It is, in a word, breathtaking. The dawn light filters down through magnificent trees that are so tall, they seem to tickle the clouds. The Maserati will definitely need a strut adjustment after traveling on this uneven, dirt-packed forest road.

We’ve gone several miles into the dense labyrinth and I’ve yet to see another home or any sign of a town. This really would be the ideal place to dump a body … damn!

My adrenaline spikes yet again and I shift around nervously in the plush seat. For the first time in our hour-long journey together, I sense him looking at me. I’m desperate to know where this is leading but stay silent as I inspect my throbbing wrist for the twentieth time.

The pain is a constant, gnawing ache. What I wouldn’t give for Tylenol-Codeine right now! I breathe deeply and try to keep it together, to focus. I need to be on point in the unlikely event that he should slip up and make a mistake.

Though the windows are closed, I can still hear the gurgling, rushing sounds of water. A lot of it. The noise steadily grows louder. There must be a waterfall close by. In a forest like this? How unusual.

I finally look at Zoran. Without taking his eyes from the road, he announces, “We’re here.”

We make our way slowly down a long, unpaved tree-lined drive. Three oversized, ominous-looking black and tan Doberman Pinchers bound toward us from the side of a beautiful manor house. Their growls are so frightening that I bet they hunt down rodents for breakfast and maybe the occasional child. I plaster my back against the seat as their barks and snarls rise in a horrific cacophony.

Zoran lowers the driver’s window and sternly shouts out, “Dole!” Down.

I flinch at his command.

Seeing that it’s their master, the intimidating dogs immediately comply without hesitation. They lower into a crouch and disappear from my view. There is no way I’m getting out of this car! The Cujo trio will certainly see me as a Scooby Snack … no way in hell!

He gets out of the car and walks around to my side. I stare at him through the glass a second before he opens my door. I shudder and hesitate, clutching my arms against myself. Being inside of a bloody automobile feels almost safe compared to the uncertainty of an unfamiliar house. His house. The gruesome possibilities of what he could do to me inside are limitless.

“No, please,” I whisper, fear lacing my voice.

Without a word he bends and scoops me up into his arms, clearly in a rush. He cuts across the green lawn of the sprawling, rustic country house. The sound of water drums in my ears, so close that I think the house must be built nearly on top of it. It’s looks very old.

I crane my neck to make sense of the imposing two-story structure. It is constructed mostly of smooth, grayish-white, oblong stones, interspersed with a cream-colored mortar. There are several small A-framed dormer windows on the roof that are topped with rounded, deep red terracotta tiles. It is charming, in a romantic country-chic sort of way. Is this Zoran’s home? I wouldn’t have pegged him as its owner. It’s far too lovely.

The wide, heavy front door has to be at least nine feet high. Obviously custom–made, long ago.

Do other people live here?

If they do, maybe I could convince them to help me escape. Although I can’t imagine anyone defying Zoran.

I want to fight him. I don’t want to be taken inside, but I know if I run, those crazy ass dogs would be on me in a heartbeat. My team will be scouring Zagreb for me, following every scrap of a lead until I turn up. There is absolutely no way they would find me here. Not in a million years. Not without the GPS they installed in my car.

Unlocking the front door, he carries me into an airy foyer. The silence within hangs thick in the air. There is little in the way of décor, with the exception of a beautiful, oversized, carved cherry bench. Overstuffed deep red and black patterned pillows are nestled in each of its corners. A wide, antique silver mirror hangs above it. Once I’m set on my feet, he turns to disarm the shrill, beeping alarm system.

I can’t help but take two steps away from him. In the daylight he is a giant of a man. His tailored suit is merely a polite disguise to help him blend into society. He’s clearly living in the wrong time period, I think, because anyone can see that he is a fierce warrior sprung to life in the twenty-first century.

His chiseled jaw lifts ever so slightly. “Up the stairs.”

Will I ever grow accustomed to his husky, growling voice? In a daze, I turn and climb the wide flight of stairs. My small feet pad silently as I make my ascent to God-knows-where. The wood on the floors is ancient and weathered but immaculately clean and quite pretty. How old is this place?

I come to a dead stop at the top of the staircase and stare in awe. Unless it was built with this sprawling, open design in mind, it seems as if all the interior walls on the second floor were demolished to create one vast space. It’s the size of at least four large bedrooms rolled into one. Two sets of enormous windows allow for sunlight to spill in, blanketing the distressed wood floors. There’s a large boxy structure built in the center of the space. Through the glass, I can see that it’s a freestanding, oversized shower; the frosted glass wall behind it must hide the rest of the bathroom.

In the right corner of the room rests a massive king-sized bed set in a beautifully carved, dark walnut four-post frame. Stark white sheets and a matching comforter neatly cover the high mattress. Behind the bed, the interior stone wall is at least fifteen feet in height. Stunning. Wood rafters painted a light gray crisscross the ceiling. They give the room a clean, loft-like feel.

This space must be close to fifteen-hundred square feet. As I look around, I note that aside from the bed and the wood floor, just about everything is either white, gray, or glass. Even the wide fireplace mantle is a pale hue, maybe a birch or pine. Cut logs rest neatly in a brown leather sling on the striated marble hearth.

“Follow me.”

He steps around me and strides toward the far side of the vast room. We round the corner to the modern shower that features a foot-wide rainforest showerhead and two limestone benches. Smooth pebbles in shades of soft cream and tan make up the floor of the cavernous space. There is no door, just a six inch tiled step.

As I’m taking everything in, he addresses me in his commanding voice. “Take everything off and shower. You need to clean those cuts. You have exactly five minutes.”

With that curt command he turns and disappears around the corner. I’m relieved to hear his heavy footfalls move back across the room, soon becoming imperceptible.

I’m hesitant to get naked, but he’s right. Who knows what type of infection could be setting in? I gently unravel the stained remnants of his t-shirt and place them in the small steel wastebasket that rests between two square, white sinks suspended by mahogany bases. According to Mr. Bossy, I only have five minutes, so I purposefully avert my eyes from the gore until I’m inside the shower. There I can assess and tend to my wounds.

It takes me a minute to undo the tie on my dress with only one hand but I manage. It pools at my feet. Next I shimmy out of my lace Tanga panties and drape them across one of the sinks.

It takes a second to figure out the foreign dials and levers, but soon a steaming cascade of water pours down from the fabulous showerhead. I cringe as the water hits my scrapes and bruises and I watch, detached, as swirls of blood disappear into the steel grate. As I inspect everything, I see that there is really only one cut that could use stitches, but my wrist is my biggest concern. It is quite swollen and feels very warm as I gingerly touch the joint. The sprain most likely needs to be tended to by a physician, but I can’t imagine that Mr. Cordial will be taking me to an ER anytime soon.

I reach for a bar of white soap that smells like ocean air. It’s a daunting task to lather but I manage and gently clean the myriad of cuts to the best of my ability. Next I tip a bottle of what I believe is shampoo onto my damp hair and go to town, doing my best to remove the dirt and matted blood.

Several times I catch myself swaying like a drunken freshman, clearly exhausted and low on fluids. Bracing a hand against the glass, I try to steady myself because I need to be quick. I really don’t want to give him any incentive to seeing me stark naked, so fainting isn’t an option.

Turning off the water, I peek out and spy a carved wooden ledge embedded in the stone wall nearby. Helping myself to the stack of fluffy white towels, I do my best to wrap up my torso. I hear movement in the room through the constant sound of rushing water, which must be coming from a river or waterfall. I go motionless as he rounds the corner and stares at me.

I watch him warily, fighting the urge to slink away. I’m in no position to throw sass or even to flee … just yet. So I wait as his scorching gaze rakes over me, traveling down to my bare feet and back up. The towel provides little protection, but I clutch it as if it’s my last lifeline.

His gravelly voice cuts through the air. “Come to the bed.”

Noooooo!

I refuse to see where this might be leading. Is this why he wanted me to shower? To be clean for him? Could he be so ruthless as to have his way with me hours after a car crash? What a sick bastard!

When I remain still, clearly defying him, he takes one large step into my personal space. With a firm downward tug, he rips the towel clean off me. I gasp and grab for it, but he’s faster and flings it behind him. I let out a single, shocked cry as his thick fingers harshly pinch my left nipple.

The pain is so searing and unexpected that it causes me to immediately yell, “Oh, okaaaay!”

I step forward quickly, right into him, trying to show that I’ll listen. He’s watching me with a displeased frown on his painfully handsome face, yet he says not a word. Only when I fully comply, blinking rapidly to fight the tears, does he release my throbbing little bud.

Nearly racing the fifteen feet to his bed, I turn to face him. Once I reach the end of the huge frame, I’m not sure if he wants me to climb up onto the mattress or not. The fact that I’m totally nude does not escape his attention. His eyes are latched onto my breasts. I ever so slightly shift my shoulders back and forth, which allows long wet strands of air to fall forward and brush against my stomach. Some kind of shield is better than nothing.

As he closes in on me, he seems to be wrestling hard for internal control. His broad shoulders are tight, and his steps are slow and measured. He locks eyes with me. The light streaming in through the windows illuminates his vivid, clear gray eyes, teeming with heady lust. I shiver in both trepidation and unchecked arousal. There’s something about him, something so luring and potent that causes every cell in my body to cry out for his touch.

“Sit on the bed and hold your arms out to me,” he says in a rough whisper.

I hop up on the high bed and raise both my arms, uncertain where this is going. My eyes silently plead for mercy. He has a black Tiger Paw—a martial arts wristguard—clasped in one of his big hands.

He gently slips it around my injured wrist and straps the Velcro band around twice, securing it firmly in place. It’s not a proper brace or Ace bandage by any means, but it will do. Next he reaches into the pocket of his slacks, revealing a large white sterile gauze pad and a roll of surgical tape. He places the dressing over the one deep cut that is still bleeding and uses the tape to fasten it around my arm.

“The others will heal with air.” He inclines his head slightly back toward the shower area and adds, “There’s pain medicine in the cabinet.”

I remain silent, not wanting to provoke him as he steps away from me. He purposefully keeps his eyes on my face, avoiding my nude body. Curious. I want to race over to the discarded towel to shield myself from this moody stranger, but I hold stock-still. My knees, which are firmly pressed together, begin to quiver from nerves.

Without a word, he turns and crosses the extensive room. I exhale a sigh of relief that he’s not going to molest me. Yet. He stops at the top of the steps, with his back to me.

His low voice shoots through the room like an arrow whizzing through a forest.

“I’m heading back to Zagreb to return the boss’ car. I will return later today. Should you try to run, the dogs will rip you to pieces. But if you were to somehow get past them, the closest building you would find is a military outpost three miles up the road. I dare you to walk into that place, wearing that provocative dress, without a male escort. You would be raped until your body was no longer warm.”

I bite down hard on my bottom lip at his morbid words. Maybe he’s bluffing? Regardless, his graphic warning is convincing. Without waiting for a response, he disappears down the steps.

I nearly collapse on the spot from the tension of the situation. Thoughts of fleeing flood my head as I race for the discarded white towel. I’ve got to find a way to turn the tables on him.

What does he want with me?

After wrapping the soft towel around my body, I turn to stare out the wide window at the misting waterfall below. For a long time I fight back the tears that threaten to spill over.

Chapter Five

Bluffing

“You took care of the bitch?”

I take a deep breath, not liking how this is starting off. “Yeah, she was half dead anyway after I shot out her tire. You saw the photos of the wreck.”

Juric uncrosses his legs and leans forward. He takes a small sip of his espresso before reviewing the images of the accident for the third time.

“I would like details, please.”

Sick fucker. Good thing I’m prepared to give them to him.

In an almost bored tone I say, “She was dragged over to the Maserati, thrown in—hence the mess—and driven out of town to a remote part of the Sava River. Couldn’t chance that someone would find her body in the car.”

He watches me with deadly interest.

I continue on, “She was coming around in the car, so I reached over and snapped her neck. It was quick. I kept her purse and threw her body into the water. The current was swift last night. By the time someone finds her, she will be unrecognizable. There will be no link. One call to Goran at the Wet Works Club and the security tape of her talking with us last night will be erased. I’ll make certain of it.”

Juric purses his lips in thought and finally nods. “Okay, Zoran, very well then. Be certain to pay off Goran for the favor. Excellent work. I’m sure you realize that the rest of your men lost her team in their pursuit last night?”

“Yes. I am aware of this.”

“I want her belongings.”

I hand over the black leather clutch purse, knowing exactly what is left in it. More importantly, what has been removed. Juric would lose his fucking mind if he knew what she accessed on his computer. Seeing as nothing was done with it and the design is safe in my competent hands, there is nothing further to discuss. I stand to leave.

Juric begins to speak, obviously not finished with me. “Sonia Reese, 512 Oak Street, Chicago, Illinois. This is undoubtedly a fake identification card, Zoran. She thought she could mess with a bull and look what it got her. Stupid, beautiful girl. What a waste. She would have been a fantastic fuck, too, with that tight body of hers.”

I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, tasting blood, and struggle to reveal nothing. It’s not a difficult task. I’m more accustomed to masking emotion than showing it.

“I’m taking two weeks off, effective now.” My look dares my pompous employer to challenge me.

Lowering his pansy-ass espresso cup, he asks in an annoyingly refined tone that’s all business, “Do you think that is wise? After what just occurred with the American? What, did the death of the pretty girl affect you?”

Is he dense enough to try and antagonize me? Fuck him. He may sign my hefty paychecks because he can’t defend himself but that doesn’t give him the right to start up with the insinuations. I’m shutting this shit down. Now.

In a tight voice, I reiterate my earlier statement, “I told you what I’m doing. I won’t say it again. I took out a woman for you last night and now I’m taking a long overdue break.”

I turn to make my way off the sunlit, stone veranda without so much as a goodbye.

Juric knows not to fuck with me. He could hire more expensive security, but he certainly couldn’t find more experienced and ruthless guards. My four men will keep things secure while I’m away. They’ve been well trained to act in my absence, but I plan to contact them later today and give them explicit instructions on how to keep on top of everything while I’m away.

For now my top priority is to get back to Villa Vranic, right after a few necessary stops in town. The V-8 engine of my matte black H1 Hummer roars to life and I waste no time ripping out of the ridiculously detailed circular driveway.

As soon as I get home, a shower and a hot meal are at the top of my list. And afterwards, a long overdue chat with my princeza ….

***

“Fire now, Carew!”

My father, in his starched, tan military uniform, stands behind me, instructing me on how to best hit the moving target. I take the shot … and miss. Again.

“Focus! You’re distracted. In combat, a distraction will get you the top prize, my girl: death. Now go again. You’ll stay here until you land ten in a row.”

I redouble my efforts, wanting to succeed, wanting so desperately to please him ….

Through a fog, a loud crunching sound registers in my sleepy brain, jerking me fully awake and banishing the old memory. My eyes fly open. I lift my head from the down pillow and blink twice. Leaning casually on one hip against the rail at the top of the steps is a man. A supremely hot man, who looks a hell of a lot like Zoran.

While munching on a vivid, red apple, he watches me clutch the white duvet in open amusement. He’s wearing a fitted gray t-shirt and dark green cargo pants that have a multitude of pockets. His feet are bare and his black hair is cut precisely with a little bit of wave that pushes it back off his flawless face.

Zoran’s brother. It must be. Only their eyes are different. This guy’s are a soft hazel color. Not nearly as severe or as beautiful as his frightening brother’s. He’s younger for sure. It’s hard to tell but he might be thirty-two or thirty-three. Same imposing height but a leaner build, like a surfer or a soccer player. Zoran looks like a daunting cage fighter, or to be even more accurate, a gladiator.

He speaks to me first in Croatian. “Jeste li Hrvatica?” Are you Croatian?

“N-no.” I push up from the soft mattress with my good arm. Clearing my throat, I answer in English, “I’m American.”

He watches me for a long moment and thankfully switches to English. “American, huh? I’m Balthazar, but you can call me ‘B.’ Everyone does. I see that Tigar got you. What’s your name?”

I shake my head, not understanding his statement. A tiger got me? Does he think that’s what happened to my cut-up arms? I’m still trying to wake up from my deep sleep.

“I’m s-sorry?” I stammer.

He still looks amused, and he chuckles as he says, “My brother. His given name is Zoran but anyone close to him calls him Tigar. That’s why you’re here, right? Tigar brought you? Because nobody in their right mind would ever attempt to break into this house. I asked your name. You have one, right?”

Tigar? Perplexing. Pronounced with a rolled ‘R,’ it is even sexier than the English version of the word.

“It’s Carew. Do you live here?” I ask curiously, right before I question myself for offering up my real name to this stranger!

“No. I just got off work and swung by to hit the basement gym for a workout. Carew? Never heard that name before. It’s different. You’re a long way from home, blondie.”

I sit up and the soft blanket moves down a bit. His eyes sweep over the bandage on my arm and the guard on my left wrist. He tenses visibly, and his aspect becomes more menacing. He pushes off the doorframe and straightens as he asks, “Somebody hurt you?” His voice sounds tight.

“Not exactly. I was, ah, in a car accident last night. Listen, could you give me a ride to the nearest town? I need to get back to Zagreb International Airport.” Like yesterday. “I already missed my flight. I’m really late, actually.”

Act calm ….

Intelligent eyes assess me for a moment. Without answering, he pulls out his mobile. My hope is unraveling like a ball of yarn, and B is the cat. I listen to his rapid conversation in his native tongue, only catching, “She’s here,” along with, “Yeah, all right.”

I stare at the ceiling and puff out an annoyed breath. Shit, back to square one! I should have known they would be on the same page.

“Come on, blondie. I’ve been instructed to get you something to eat. Follow me to the kitchen. Tigar will be home in a few hours. He had some errands to run in downtown Zagreb.”

I pull the puffy comforter farther up, hesitant to step out. My towel is on a chair nearby. “I only have a towel.”

“No problem.”

He strides over to a large, beautifully detailed armoire and opens it up. From what I can see there is a lot of black … and camo. Ugh! This Zoran guy is ex-military for sure. This day just keeps getting better.

“Here. This will have to do.”

Without coming close to me, he tosses a neatly folded white bundle my way. I watch it sail through the air and land on the foot of the bed with a flop.

“See you downstairs. Chop-chop, blondie, because I need to do my workout and I still have to make something for you to eat.”

Bizarre. At least he seems normal and not threatening in the least. How in the world can one brother be so lighthearted and the other such a force of nature?

I cautiously reach for the t-shirt as he disappears down the staircase.

Flipping back the comforter, I rise slowly to my feet and unfold the shirt. As I slide the soft cotton over my head, I immediately pick up that intoxicating vanilla and spice scent that is so distinctly Zoran. I shiver as it affects me in an almost primal way.

The XL white shirt hits just above my knees. Thankfully the four Advil I took earlier are still coursing through my system. The pain is bearable now and I’m grateful, because it really sucked in a bad way.

Before I passed out, I had the forethought to rinse out my dress and black undies in the sink. I nearly fainted when I saw the quantities of blood that came out of my dress. The panties are dry now and I slide them on, tugging on the hem of the t-shirt to pull it down as far as it will go.

Earlier, just after Zoran left, I briefly snuck downstairs and peeked out the front window. The ‘beast patrol’ was in full prowl mode. He was right; they wouldn’t think twice about snacking on me.

I was too weak to explore the rest of the house at that point, so I crept back up and downed the Advil with a handful of water from the sink. Then I rummaged about for a weapon. I found a pair of sharp scissors in a drawer in the armoire and tucked them beneath the pillow before collapsing in much-needed sleep. Thank God Balthazar didn’t come in while I was searching through his brother’s house.

Looking in the suspended oval mirror of the bathroom area, I study my reflection. I look nearly normal after the long rest. Well, with the exception of the apprehensive look in my eyes and the gash on my arm. Both are definitely not things I’m used to seeing. A wooden-handled bristle brush rests on a shelf near where I found the towels, and I go to work on my hair. Thankfully my hair is straight and has dried without matting up.

Why the hell should I even care? For one reason alone. I’m unbelievably attracted to Zoran and on some level I know that he saved my life. He could have killed me. Probably should have, since it was within the parameters of his job. But he didn’t.

I will never let him know this, of course, but still …. I’m fully aware of the facts. His dominant nipple tweak was unbearably hot, and even if I hadn’t been sure before, there was no mistaking my attraction after that. But what the hell was that? Am I into kink? Probably just a fluke reaction to this jacked up situation. Let’s hope so ….

I descend the stairs and wait a moment in the stillness of the foyer, unsure where the kitchen is located.

“Hey, back here,” a deep voice calls out from my right.

I walk into a large, spartan but comfortable living room, complete with a high ivory ceiling that has track lighting running across it. A giant, cognac-colored leather sofa rests against one wall. Cool brass rivets swirl up the seams of the arms. A matching quilted-leather ottoman rests in front of it with a neat display of gun and ammo magazines fanned out. Wonderful.

On the opposite wall, I see a low wooden cabinet with the largest flat screen television I have ever seen in my life, outside of a sports bar. Something that smells unbelievably delicious is wafting my way from the kitchen. I follow the scent.

“Okay, blondie, here’s a late lunch for you. This was the best I could do. He may be a difficult guy, but Tigar can cook. I just heated this up; hope it works for you.”

B smiles at me as he sets a tall glass of ice water beside a steaming bowl of soup and a small plate of sliced fruit and cheese. He has a charming, boyish gap between his two front teeth. I remain still and take in the unique kitchen. The floors are the same wide planked wood that runs throughout the rest of the home, obviously original to the construction. But this awesome kitchen is the epitome of modern chic.

A selection of stainless and Calphalon pots and pans hang from the ceiling from an oval-shaped, suspended steel brace. A Viking gas range is embedded in the center of a black and gold-flecked granite island. Every appliance is a matte stainless steel, and the cabinets are a rich, glossy cherry wood. Masculine and beautiful all rolled into one.

“Sorry I don’t have time to give you the full tour of the place, but you are free to look around. Just don’t go outside. I only have an hour to work out before I have to pick up my girlfriend. She really enjoys live music and there’s an outdoor concert tonight in the next town. I’m headed downstairs to the gym. You okay up here?”

My eyes implore him to help me as I say, “Please, please take me to the airport. I don’t belong here.”

He looks sincere as he replies in his exotic accent, “Yeah, I can see that. I wish I could. But my brother told me what’s happening and you aren’t going anywhere. You’re his and he’s serious about that. You should eat. He told me to make sure you do. It will get your mind off things, all right?”

My shoulders sag as I sit down on the low, glossy wood bench. I turn and watch him leave the room. A moment later I hear an interior door close within the house.

The long rectangular table in the airy kitchen is ancient and gorgeous with all its blemishes and imperfections striated into the weathered wood. When he remodeled he must have kept the things he was attached to, I think to myself.

A lemon and tarragon scented steam rises from the orzo soup, and spinach and chunks of chicken swirl around in it. My stomach growls as I stir the soup. Still in something of a daze, I realize that I haven’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. I manage several spoonfuls of the delicious soup and a few bites of the fresh apple slices and raspberries. My apprehension, coupled with the gravity of this depraved situation, has left me less interested in the meal than I would be otherwise. I stand to take the bowl and plate to the sink.

As I rinse everything out, the constant roar of water causes me to move to the closest window, place my palms flat against the cool glass, and peer out. It’s already late afternoon.

The home is built right up against a waterfall that flows down in a fluid rush of white, bubbling water. It’s hard to tell how far it descends. From this vantage point, the depth of the fall seems to be about twenty feet. Not massive but certainly notable. I would calculate the width between the two banks to be right at forty feet across.

Did he inherit this place? It’s beautifully mysterious and I’m inexplicably drawn to it, just like its dark owner.

Chapter Six

The Name Game

My Hummer crawls up the long driveway. It’s nearly dusk and I’m relieved to finally return home. The dogs watch my truck approach with eager anticipation. They pace back and forth, no doubt wanting both attention and dinner.

I slide out of my vehicle, grab the two bags out of the back, and round the side of the house to their oversized kennel. They rub fervently against my legs as I put down fresh food and replenish their water from the wooden shed. Unfortunately, their customary game of ball will have to wait until tomorrow. Having now gone over thirty-four hours without sleep, I am in a particularly black mood.

I’ll need to relax a bit before speaking to the girl. Right now, with my patience spread so thin, she could easily set me off. A shower should calm me down.

B told me during our brief chat that he was surprised by my recent acquisition. The blonde American is definitely an exotic and out-of-place addition in my orderly life. I did not bother to explain myself; it can wait. I’ve never brought a woman to my home before today and my brother knows this. It’s inevitable that B would be curious.

Whenever I need down and dirty sex, which is on a regular basis, I simply pay for it discreetly in the city. Random women consistently offer themselves up for my use, so I know all too well that I don’t have to pay for a fuck, but I’m more comfortable with a cash transaction. This keeps any emotion out of the fucking equation. Business is business. Period.

Because I work so hard, I always purchase the finest that money can buy. Always the highest grade pussy, and more importantly, a different girl each and every time. That way no one gets to know me, and no one gets attached. It’s been this way for the past ten years.

Sex is like a fine steak, both a luxury and a complete necessity. But I’ve started to become less and less satisfied with anonymous sex. Almost bored at times. It irritates me that I don’t understand why. With the last two women, I didn’t even care if I finished, but each girl always leaves satisfied. Always. I make sure of it.

More than once, with the tell-tale flush of orgasm still glowing on their pretty cheeks, I’ve been offered a free session on the side. Sex is something I excel at, like sharpshooting. They wouldn’t dare fake that shit with me. I would know anyhow. My intuition and ability to read people’s bullshit is keen. More than once those instincts alone have kept me alive.

I cross back over the lawn to the front of my home. She’s inside. The possibilities are endless. I have a plan this evening for my cunning siren, and it’s going to start with getting the facts. I want them tonight and she had best be prepared to come clean.

The house is quiet, as usual. I close the heavy door behind me and head up the stairs toward the shower, stripping out of my jacket and shirt as I go. I sense that she’s not up here as I hit the top step. She can try to hide out somewhere within the house, but it’s not going to get her out of anything.

I’m bone-tired as I throw my clothes into the linen and steel hamper, and the sound of the buttons on my pants hitting the edge twangs through the room. Sound travels easily through this house. She’s well aware that I’m home. At the thought of her, waiting here for me, I begin to grow hard.

I nearly groan as the hot water pours down over my body. With the soap running down my chest, I pause to inspect the three circular scars on my torso. Those scars, along with the knife wounds marring my forearms and the top of my right shoulder, are not exactly something I’m comfortable showing off.

What will she think of these imperfections? Probably that I’m a dangerous thug. That’s all right; she would be on right track with that. Some people were just born on the wrong latitude and longitude. You can’t choose your nationality, can you? I wouldn’t change a single aspect of my life. Regrets are for the weak and weakness leads to death. I should know.

I take my time toweling off. As I cross over to the wardrobe, I glance at the oversized bed. Soon she will be in it.

My body tenses up with the thought of her sleek ballet dancer’s body splayed out for my rough use. My cock starts to throb harder in greedy anticipation as I pull on a fitted, solid black t-shirt, midnight blue boxer briefs, and a well-worn pair of army green and black camo pants.

It annoys the hell out of me that I had to follow such formal social guidelines when we met at the club last night in Zagreb, knowing that I couldn’t stop her from coming on to Juric. I saw the look in his eyes the moment he spotted her. He had to have her, that was a certainty. I’d had her in my sights for several minutes before he did. I recall the jolt that shot through me when I observed her from across the club. She’s remarkable, but even so she’s going to comply with my demands. She isn’t going anywhere unless I permit it.

Juric’s a smart businessman, I’ll give him that, but the man is a complete fucking douche when it comes to women. He’s like an insatiable crackhead, running through them night after night. All the money and flashy cars are not enough for him.

I stack five logs atop each other in a pyramid shape before adding a bit of dry kindling and hold my lighter to it. The fire crackles and sputters to life. Of the three fireplaces in the house, I am most attached to this one. The light oak mantle was carved by my great-great uncle, who was well known in the region for his supreme woodcarving skills.

I place my steel zippo on the curved mantle, thinking that the warmth will be a bonus when I bring her up here later tonight. I normally keep the bedroom chilly, preferring it that way, but I want her to be comfortable. That is, if and when she decides to behave for me.

My lips turn up at the corners as I pad barefoot downstairs. Damn, I would’ve given my Hummer to have seen my little princeza choke out that sissy bitch. Good for her.

There’s no way she could get anything like that past me. Not even without the sprained wrist she’s sporting. I hope that it heals properly, though. The air cast that I brought back from the medical supply store in Zagreb should help.

After picking up the two packages I left on the bench downstairs, I round the corner from the foyer to find her sitting tensely on the edge of the sofa. Her delicate hands are clutched together, shaking in her lap, and upon seeing me motionless and watchful in the doorway, she breathes harder. She’s clearly scared and is trying to hide it from me.

Light and heat come from the far corner of the room. B must have made a fire for her before he took off.

I watch her carefully for a moment, never once breaking eye contact, before giving her the first of many instructions to come. “Stand and remove my shirt from your body.”

***

A dark savage … that’s exactly what he looks like in his rugged, masculine clothing, bare-foot and staring hard. The hedonistic part of my brain ignites as I see him in all his glory. His shoulders are massive and must be well over two feet across. Long, toned arms hang at his sides. Too still. The suit was definitely a polite cover. This man, as he’s revealed to me now, is danger to the Nth degree. Seriously.

I’m cautiously alert as I assess him. I’ve been sitting in this spot for nearly two hours now, waiting to speak with my baffling captor. Desperate to know when, if ever, he plans to release me. There is absolutely no way in hell I’m slipping out of the safety of this shirt, regardless of what he’s just told me in that hot accent of his.

I’ve stashed another weapon, a steak knife hidden deep in the sofa cushion behind me. If he wants to get rough, I’ll do my best to match him. He waits, watching me with silvery, narrowed eyes. He can stand in that doorway all damn night for all I care. I won’t even dignify him with an answer. I simply lift my chin up a fraction of an inch.

And then he moves.

As if released by a catapult, he drops the bags he was holding and bolts toward me. My training kicks in and I instantly reach down into the cushion for the sharp knife. He’s on me just as I bring it front and center.

“Ah, princeza, I see you want to get right into the foreplay. I like to play dirty as well, baby.”

With a simple twist of my wrist, he removes the knife from my outstretched hand. It skitters across the wood floor, coming to rest after several twirls. At least he had the decency not to snap my good wrist! Before I can blink, he throws me over his solid shoulder.

The move is so fast and jarring that I struggle to catch my breath. He carries me quickly through the kitchen and I begin to struggle, throwing my weight to and fro in a desperate attempt to get him off balance. I know that my one good arm will do nothing to a man of his size. Smacking against his back would be both asinine and futile.

He seems totally unfazed, as if he’s casually carrying a bag of groceries. He walks with sure strides down an interior hallway where he stops at a closed door.

With renewed effort, I sway harder, kicking my legs full force, trying to connect as I scream at him, “Let me go!”

My pleas are ignored as he opens the door, flips a light, and descends a narrow set of oak stairs. No, no! Holy hell. The last place on earth you want to be taken by an interrogator is a basement. No, this is righteously awful.

Monumentally bad things happen in basements. His is a gym, which means heavy equipment. Fuck! I won’t be able to physically best him. No way. I’ll have to outthink him. Perhaps strike a bargain. I can only imagine what he could come up with as a ‘fair deal.’

He hits the bottom step and five strides later I’m dumped unceremoniously onto a black padded table. With my good hand, I shove my hair back from my face to assess the situation. As I stare up from my prone position, it becomes instantly clear that I’m in a cavernous workout room and he’s placed me on a wide leather massage table. I fight to scramble back, not liking where this is going in the least.

Like a cobra striking, his hand lashes out to clasp my ankle. He drags me down toward him. My shirt sticks against the leather as I slide against the table. It comes to rest just across my breasts, leaving the rest of me bare to him. Thank God for my skimpy black panties.

“Get away from me, you monster!” I scream up at him.

He smiles a cold smile, but zero emotion reaches his beautiful, deadly eyes. With the fleetness of an athlete, he hops up on the table and descends on me. His chest pins me flat against the leather as his callused palms rest against my temples, thick fingers threading through my hair.

I’m immediately reminded of the scenario in the club’s shadowed hallway. Now the stakes are much higher. The tension is volcanic. I could control my reactions last night with cool grace. Now, trapped beneath him in his native environment and feeling his hard body against mine, I’m nearly coming apart inside. And he knows it.

He cocks his head and asks, “Princeza, you’re making it hard on yourself. Why?”

How can he be so very cool and collected? I look away, off to the right wall that’s covered with mirrors for training. I hate with a passion that a frightened girl stares back at me. Trapped. Forced to see him, to see us, like this, nearly intimate. My humiliation is colossal.

“Get off me!” I hiss at him, eyes still averted.

He whispers, “Disrespect will only get you punishment from me. Soon that fact will click for you.”

His right hand filters through my hair and moves lower, down and across my breasts, until it covers my lace-clad pussy. I let out a frustrated groan as his hot palm covers my sex. My excitement swiftly changes to panic as he grabs the front of my panties and tears them off me.

I feel the blush explode across my face and neck as I writhe hard without gaining an inch. The air in my lungs departs in a heated blast. Before I can sputter out an objection, he slowly licks the pad of his index finger and lowers it between us to press firmly against my clit. To my complete horror, a gush of wetness floods my sex. Regardless of what rational messages my brain is sending, the primal responses are needy and desperate. As if I’ve always craved his touch.

I cry out wildly, while meeting his cold eyes. In desperation, I call out, “Ssstttop! Please! Dear God, please!”

He watches me with icy calculation but does not relent. “What were you doing in Zagreb?”

Oh, shit no. Here we go ….

Gulping in air, I struggle to keep it together. I can’t tell him anything about my mission, regardless of what he does to me. Tears begin to run down my cheeks as he begins to rub that skilled finger in slow, tight circles, causing me to gasp at the pressure and heat building like wildfire between my legs. His touch feels so fine that it’s making me dizzy. Damn him!

His other hand snakes beneath the raised t-shirt and slowly massages my breasts, adding to the delicious torment.

I shriek, “Zoran! Please stop! God, you … you, ugh!” I buck hard, trying to thwart him, and get nowhere.

He’s only a breath away from my parted lips as he murmurs to me like a sexy lover, “Tell me what I want to know and I will, princeza. I’ll make the need stop and I’ll replace it with your most intense fantasy. Isn’t that what you want most, baby?”

I nearly wail from the thought of giving in as I thrash harder beneath him, frantic to ease the torrent of need. I get nowhere. God, what does he weigh, two-fifty?

“I … I can’t tell you! Please, please, I’m begging you! Stop!”

“You can tell me, princeza. I’ll keep your secret. You don’t want me to play rough. I don’t think you would last long, sweetheart.”

I freeze at his brutal words, going still beneath him. I remain as silent as possible due to the intense throbbing that courses hotly through my breasts and pussy. I sob and shudder but say nothing. Who knew the sensitivity of those nerves? If he doesn’t stop soon, it will take a miracle not to pull him down and make him finish what he’s started.

I do my best to calm my voice. “No.”

With a frustrated grunt, he releases me in both places. I gasp in relief and watch as he pushes up on both of his tremendous arms. He moves into a kneeling position at the edge of the table and grabs the hem of my safety blanket of a shirt. After pulling it over my head, he flings it carelessly to the floor. I struggle to cover my exposed breasts. Again he descends on me in a smooth, swooping dip.

Nuzzling against my left ear he rumbles, “Come on, princeza. Tell me what I need to know. I don’t want to have to hurt you. You’re far too delicate for that, baby.”

The combination of his words and voice hypnotize me. The reactions he brings out of me makes time stand still. His full, pink lips come into view as he shifts his head. They press against mine and flood my brain with pleasure. The kiss he bestows on me is both passionate and romantic. His mouth is hot perfection as it moves against mine with practiced ease. He’s controlling the kiss. Controlling me. He’s masterful by nature, and I can’t resist him, if only in this moment.

He’s hungry for me as his tongue probes then presses in. I brush both arms up against his wide back, affected in spite of myself by the feel of his powerful torso resting beneath his dark cotton t-shirt.

A deep groan rumbles in his throat. He’s coming undone. It is becoming obvious that his attraction to me is at least as powerful as mine is to him, if not more so.

Could I use this to my advantage?

The fleeting thought vanishes as his hips grind slowly against my bare mound. It feels as if a wide steel bar is pressing against my upper thigh. He’s huge. A new gush of wetness floods my sex as I moan softly into his mouth. What’s happening to cause me to fall so hard for his touch?

A primal part of my brain begins to wonder if he will force me to have sex with him right here on this table in his workout room. Would I even care at this point? He’s in my bloodstream.

This is dangerous, Carew. This sort of sexual interrogation is far worse than any pain he could inflict on me tonight.

Reluctantly I tear my mouth from his and stare up into his sultry eyes. I whisper, “Don’t do this to me.”

He hesitates for a moment and then shifts, pushing silently off the table. I snap my legs together, ashamed that he has seen how much he affects me. Hell, at this point he can most likely scent it on me like an animal in heat.

I sit up and think about jumping off the table to make a run for the stairs, but the thought of possible consequences holds me frozen in place. I remain watchful, wary of his next move.

He moves toward a weight bench and pauses, whipping off his black t-shirt in a lightning fast motion. My mouth falls open. Tattooed on his back is a tiger. A magnificent tiger. A giant Bengal tiger with wicked black, orange-gold, and white stripes. Both its claws and fangs are bared. The head is turned in a full profile view at his right shoulder and his tail skirts around to the left of his torso, just above his hip. He is raw power, personified.

It is nearly as gorgeous as the lush jungle backdrop displayed on his skin. It’s both dense and botanical in nature. Vivid green leaves and white lotus flowers. His entire back is covered, all the way down to the base of his spine, ending just above his low-slung beltline.

I know zip about tattoos, but as an avid art lover, I recognize quality when I see it. It must have taken hundreds of hours to create this tattoo. Not to mention the depth of pain its creation must have inflicted on Zoran.

It becomes brilliantly clear to me that there is nothing this man doesn’t already know about pain. I bet that he’s seen several lifetimes of it, judging from his hardened expression and the scars on his chest.

When he stalks back toward me, I decide to simply go for it.

“Your tattoo is stunning,” I whisper as he moves closer, doing my best to cover my shaking frame with my arms and long hair.

“It pleases me that you like it, princeza.”

Talk to him. Stall him. Make him like you so he won’t hurt you down in this lonely basement ….

“How long have you had it?”

As he stands before me, I can clearly make out the three grisly gunshot wounds. One skirts his right ribcage and two hit him in the shoulder above the heart. This man should be dead.

“A while.”

He leans into the table and wraps his palms around my upper thighs. I gasp as I’m lifted up against him, my exposed bare mound pressed directly against his muscled stomach. I’m forced to throw my arms around his neck to keep from falling back.

His hands slide under my ass as he lifts me from the table and walks to the opposite side of the room.

I’m going to have to make a move soon. If I can just land something, a kick perhaps, then I can go for his keys. Surely I can make it to the vehicle before those dogs come after me, right? What other choice do I have?

My back bumps up against a suspended boxing bag. I bet the thing sways at an angle when he goes hard at the heavy device. Hot lips begin to trail down and across my neck as his right hand sweeps up from my thigh, across my stomach and lands against my breast.

He firmly palms the underside as he moans, “Tako lijepa.” So pretty.

I’m on my last reserves of control. His touch is mind-bending. This has to be stopped before things go any further. He continues with the barrage of sensual kisses, covering my neck. I’m so ramped up that my core is drenching his ripped stomach. He must know. How completely embarrassing!

He leans back, eyes glazed with lust, to demand, “Tell me what I want to know. Before things get ugly. You don’t want that, princeza.”

My answer is physical rather than verbal. I rear back as far as the red leather bag behind me will allow, and with all my force tightly consolidated, I slam my forehead into his face.

“U picku materinu!” Son of a bitch! He bellows with rage at the unexpected strike. Instantly I’m dropped down to the padded mats.

It must have been a good knock to the face because I’m seeing stars once I hit the ground. I catch a flash of him slightly bent and clutching at his nose right before I scramble for the stairs.

Fast! Move, move! Adrenaline explodes in my brain as I fly up the steps. There are only a couple left above me. If I can just get to that door, I can try and lock him down here!

A bone-chilling roar fills the air. Suddenly, the stairs fall out from beneath me. My hair is grabbed and I’m flying backwards.

Smack!

“Agh!”

I fall incredibly hard against the black sparring mats that cover the entire room. I struggle desperately to suck in air as I twist to scramble back up to my knees. He wastes zero time. He’s behind me, dragging me by the armpits toward the punching bag.

If I can just get to my feet, I might have a chance against this animal. My skills are solid and hopefully his nose is more injured than my wrist. I struggle hard against his hold, wrenching my shoulders back and forth as he once again hauls me up against the bag. I can’t bear to look in his face but I can feel his breath, which is ragged and irregular. He is snorting like a bull.

“Look at me!” The power behind his voice is so strong I can feel it vibrate through me.

Surreal. I’ve never heard him raise his voice until now. His need to control is chilling.

I turn away in defiance, and he grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to face him.

“You want to fight, princeza?” His voice is low, angry and guttural, nearly unrecognizable.

“Fuck you, you sick savage!” I lash out in a venomous hiss. I spit at him, and the wad lands on his right cheek. Good, my aim was true!

He growls, “Na oganj ulja ne ljevaj.” You shouldn’t add oil to the fire.

I gasp as he spins me around so fast that my bad arm flies outward and wraps quickly around the wide bag in order to keep me from falling over sideways. Like an iron shackle, his hand encircles my good wrist and hauls it up to the chain holding the bag suspended from the wooden ceiling rafter. My chest presses tight against the bag.

“Grab it.”

My entire head vibrates from the strength of his angry voice. I’m on tiptoes, but I grasp the cold chain that leads up to the mount on the ceiling. The heavy bag sways slightly with the trembling that’s coming from my body.

He steps away. What is he up to? I turn back to look over my shoulder. He’s coming at me with a black length of boxing hand-wraps. He’s planning on tying me to this bag? Oh shit! I start to let go.

“No!”

He’s fast, and I shudder as his hand squeezes hard against mine. The smooth, thick links are certainly imprinted in my right palm. Before I can fight, he begins wrapping the black cotton around my clenched hand and the chain over and over again, essentially tethering me to the weighty bag.

I’m terrified.

“Please, I’m sorry, Zoran. Please!”

His huge body presses up against mine, sandwiching me between himself and the bag. I close my eyes and try to breathe in through my nose. I must calm down and think clearly ….

Oh my God, his cock is still rock hard!

It presses against my back. It’s so huge that it feels like a weapon in itself.

He’s struggling for control as he says, “You’re not fucking sorry. Don’t you ever lie to me. But I promise you, princeza, you soon will be.”

I hate that he has control simply because I’m injured. I’m pissed and scared. I hate both feelings with a passion. Is he going to rape me, tethered here to this instrument of aggression? Self-preservation takes over. I lift my knee and kick back high, swift and hard, doing my very best to hit him in the groin. He’s too tall, and I connect with what I think is the top of his knee. It must have hurt, because he grunts low and my heel burns with the pain of contact.

He snarls, “You’re a fucking wildcat, woman! Okay, let’s play, baby.”

I shake my hair away from my face and crane my neck to watch him. I’m breathing hard as he undoes the buckle on his wide, black leather belt. Not good. So not good, Carew! He whips it off his waist in a sure tug.

My mouth opens and I begin to pant.

He wraps the belt once around his powerful fist before saying in a cold, flat voice, “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll stop.”

Time suspends in a long moment of horror. The belt flies back over his shoulder before it slices through the air with a clear whoosh. It lands impossibly hard on my exposed backside.

“Aaigeeee!” I scream. The pain is beyond comprehension. It’s vicious and all-consuming, instantly submerging me in its raw depths.

The belt lands again.

And again.

On and on, the blows rain down and my sweating chest pushes against the weighted bag. I’m hoping, praying, that I can somehow move away from his brutal strikes. Begging will get me nowhere. I know this like I know the name of the hospital where I was born.

He wants details and unfortunately for me, I can’t give them up. I’ve been trained. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that as soon as he has what he needs from me I’m as good as dead. I must endure.

Around blow twelve, he shouts through my panicked sobs, “Talk to me. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll end the pain. Just give up, stop trying to be tough.” There is an edge of desperation in his voice that is perplexing, considering the punishment he is meting out on my burning ass.

Dancing on my toes, I grip the chain tighter and swallow a whimper. “Go to hell!”

Tough? I’ll show him the meaning!

There is no reply, with the exception of a bombardment of more hard strikes. My ass and upper thighs are in a torrent of fiery pain that I could never comprehended to be possible before this moment. I wouldn’t be surprised if I already have welts. I struggle for inner strength.

Screw him. I’m not begging this monster for anything!

Just as I’m finding it difficult to breathe through my choking sobs, it all stops. The belt hits the padded floor with a thwack. Then he’s gone, moving rapidly up the stairs to the door. His footfalls are heavy, and as soon as he’s gone, I cry out in relief and would have crumpled to the floor if I wasn’t chained upright. I’m shaking and wet with a mixture of both tears and sweat from my face down to my stomach. My ass must be in awful shape because it’s pulsing wildly in pain.

I hear movement upstairs.

The door at the top of the steps re-opens and I hear him coming back down.

No! Already? I’m not certain how much more I can take. I hope he wasn’t just warming up!

I slowly lift my forehead off the bag in sweaty exhaustion. He stands on the other side, facing me with only the leather cylinder between us. His face is blank, cold.

“Talk to me. Tell me who you are and I’ll let you down. I don’t like harming you.”

He’s holding a white bag. Additional instruments to make me open up and talk? I’m doomed.

Meeting his eyes, I try to speak clearly, honestly. “I can’t.” It comes out as a soft, odd croak.

His gray eyes narrow before he responds, “Okay, princeza. I’m going to leave you to think on it.”

He places the bag on the floor and pulls out a proper air cast, of all things. My eyes fill with tears of relief. He’s not going to harm me any more … for now. As he touches my injured wrist, I jerk back slightly. I can’t help it.

“Calm yourself.”

“Easy for you to say.” I pin him with a wary stare.

He shakes his head in disbelief as he gently unwraps the Tiger Paw brace, leaving my other arm tied to the chain. My exposed wrist is throbbing, the Advil has long since worn off, and I would give my last dime for an entire bottle right now. Not only for my wrist, but also for my throbbing ass.

He slips on the air cast and secures it before he gently releases my arms.

“Look at me, princeza.”

I shoot him an enraged look before huffing out, “Stop calling me that. It’s not my name and I hardly think that terms of endearment are appropriate in this wacked out scenario.”

He surprises me by barking out a short laugh. “I like you, princeza. You’ve got heart. Tell me your name, then, if you want it used. Your real one, not the one you gave Juric.”

How about I give you my favorite phrase instead, big man? Hmm … let’s see. “Screw you!” I scream in his face, exhausting my last ounce of energy. He stays calm but he has a tell: his neck muscles and wide shoulders visibly tense up.

Oh God, is that a knife wound slashing across the top of his shoulder?

Taking a wide step back, he says in a low, angry voice, “You take your time and think on it. We’ll keep this game up until you’re ready to talk. I’m a man of infinite patience, as you will soon learn.”

I turn away in disgust, nuzzling a flaming, wet cheek against the side of the leather, away from his prying stare. Without another word, he disappears up the stairs and closes the door quietly behind him.

I cry out in open relief that he’s decided to leave me alone. I’ve heard plenty of stories about interrogations that could easily double as urban legends. He could have been far harsher with me. He drew no blood, left no permanent damage. Would he really kill me if I told him the truth? Now I’m no longer so sure.

Pins and needles. First in my fingers and then lower, down through my stretched right arm. Being suspended like this is agony. Every time I try to push up higher on my toes to take the tension off my arm, my toes start to cramp up.

How much of this does he think I can take? At this point I’d be willing to tell him my name. The sacrifice would be worth it, if only for a little relief. I wish I would pass out, anything to stop this horrid, gnawing pain.

At least he left the light on ….

Chapter Seven

The Tie That Binds

I press my sweaty back up against the basement door. Stupid, headstrong girl! Why won’t she just tell me what I need to know? I stopped when she’d had enough. I didn’t like whipping her but it was a necessary evil. She was unwise enough to fuck with my employer, and I need to know why. If she wasn’t so arrogant and stubborn, this would be much easier for her.

Does she think I’ll take her out once she gives up the information? Most likely. That must be the reason that she’s on lockdown. Regardless, she’s going to talk to me tonight.

Fuck! I nearly came in my cargos when I first touched that silky pussy of hers. She is perfection personified. While I had her beneath me on the massage table, it took every ounce of my control not to wrench open my fly and shove my cock into her like an animal.

I’ll have her. It’s just a matter of time. I want her willing and eager, though. The thought of raping a woman leaves an awful taste in my mouth. I’ve seen groups of soldiers on both sides of the war do that, albeit from a distance and through a rifle scope. No, I wouldn’t put a female through that humiliation. Either I’ll have her willingly or not at all.

And she was drenched with need for me tonight.

So fucking sweet ….

I look down at my bare stomach cast in shadows in the hallway. Unable to resist, I swipe my index finger across the area where her spread pussy rested not long ago. Placing the finger between my lips, I suck and swirl my tongue against the moisture. My eyes close and a groan escapes me as her taste washes through me like the rush of a potent drug. Like peaches, so delicate and laced with honey. I must have her … soon.

I’ll go out of my skull if I don’t.

With a sigh, I push away from the door and head into the dining room. Black and white framed photographs of my relatives hang on the four walls, dating back as far as the dawn of photography. They are all there. This is the one room in my home that has remained unaltered. The one with the strongest memories.

Laughter around the twelve-foot-long walnut dining table. Playing hide and seek with my brother underneath. Our mother’s mouthwatering meals. God, what I wouldn’t give for just one more of her Purgerica turkeys that she labored over lovingly each and every Christmas. Fuck, I can still remember that last Christmas here, when we were so happy. That was two months before they were all slaughtered.

This room is full of emotional memories. I hate the sorrow but crave it all the same. It’s all I have left of them.

Turning to leave, I rest my eyes on the one photo that tears into my soul. My mother and father. It’s a candid shot taken at their wedding reception. Her youthful face glows with happiness, her hair upswept with a trailing veil of fine lace. She’s dancing with my father, who looks tall and handsome in his black suit. Why did that evil have to happen to them? Fucking senseless.

I wince, thinking of the pain the girl must be feeling downstairs, and hope she gives up soon. Once I have what I need to know, I’ll let her down. Better me than Juric. Juric would have simply raped and killed her. I can’t stand the thought of that.

I go to the long sofa and spread out as my mind flits back to images of my family. Will the pain ever go away? It’s been twenty years, so perhaps not.

After slipping my mobile from one of the pockets near my knee, I see a missed text from B: “’Fess up, bastard. Where did you find the hot American? She obviously finds you repulsive, dude, (joking) so what’s going on? —B”

I shake my head at my brother’s light-hearted taunts. You can’t help but love the guy. Everyone does. Why can’t I just let shit roll off me like B does? We rarely speak to each other about what happened that night. What good would it do?

What I wouldn’t give to not have this black cloud constantly hovering over me. Or a rewind button. That, or ten more years of experience behind me. Yeah, I could’ve stopped them then. Could have done something more than hide ….

Shaking it off, I head back downstairs. I glance down at my watch, a black Luminox that was a gift from B a few years back. It’s been twenty minutes. Time to see if my sweet princeza has something to tell me.

As I walk downstairs, I half expect to hear the sound of tears or curses, but neither one greets me. She hangs quietly from my boxing bag, exactly where I left her. The pain must be explosive by now, but nothing that won’t go away after I release her. Slowly, I round the bag and rest my forehead against the cool leather, just a few inches away from hers.

“Give me something, princeza.” My voice bounces off the mirrors in a soft hush.

At first, I think I must be hearing things, her words are so faint. Then she repeats them.

“Carew. M-my name is Carew,” she whispers softly, as if confessing a secret.

It must be hard for her to give up even that small amount of information. It means she realizes she isn’t in control here. She isn’t lying. When she whispered the word I felt a shiver through my body. That is definitely her name. Unique and delicate, like her. I wonder for a moment what ‘Carew’ means.

I stand up straight and walk behind her. She’s completely depleted, can’t even lift her head.

As I reach up to undo the black cotton that holds her fast, I whisper to her, “Okay, Carew. You’re all right. Let me get you down now.”

My right arm binds firmly around her midsection as I unravel the last few segments of cloth. If I don’t support her, the moment she is free she’ll hit the floor like a lead weight. The sweaty cotton falls to the floor as I swing her up into my arms.

She leans into me, half asleep. She’s chilled. I really should put her into a hot shower but decide instead to put her to bed. My bed, the only one in the house. She’s obviously exhausted and I’m completely wiped out as well.

Her bare skin is so smooth and soft against mine that I have to fight internally to not crush her against me. I’ve been hard ever since I walked into the house this evening.

Fuck. It’s going to be a long night.

We reach the top step to the bedroom, and it hits me that no woman has ever been up here before today. I’ve never fucked in this bed. Always in hotels back in Zagreb.

As I lower her down carefully onto the moonlight-streaked mattress, I can tell that she’s about to pass out. I glance at the fire and see that it’s burning steadily. Good, I’ll add a few more logs to keep it toasty up here. I walk over and tend to the fire, stoking it with the poker before tossing two big logs on the glowing heap.

I cross back to the bed and sit down next to her bare, lithe body. As I reach for the comforter, intending to cover her with it, my arm brushes against hers. What she does next surprises the shit out of me. With a small whimper, she pulls my arm close to her chest.

I move her over very slowly and lay down beside her, allowing the warmth from my bare chest to radiate into her skin. She nestles in closer. She must be asleep because there is no fucking way she would have done any of this if she was lucid. She’s far too proud.

I’m completely drained and hope that I can make some sort of progress with her tomorrow. On that final thought I allow my eyes to slide shut.

***

“Get into the basement.”

“Papa, no. We can help. We’re both good marksmen.”

Never in my sixteen years on earth has the word ‘no’ crossed my lips. Not while speaking to my father, at least.

“Zoran, there’s no time. Go to the hiding place downstairs and guard your brother with your life. We love you both, now go.”

That is the exact moment I know they will die. There is only room in the niche for two of us. My father has never once told us he loved us—not in so many words. This is his goodbye and I know it.

Time to be a man. I reach down and pry my clinging thirteen-year-old brother away from our sobbing mother.

“Be strong,” I say to him, although the words are more for myself than for him.

Big, beaming lights begin to filter into our house through the darkness. Rifle butts pound against the front door with brutal force, demanding acknowledgment. The dogs—thank fucking God for our dogs—scented them coming and went wild. A loud sputtering of shots ring out in succession, followed by silence and then shouting. They got them. The dogs were shot for trying to defend their family. The civil war is ripping our beautiful country into so many pieces that soon there will be nothing left but blood and scorched earth.

Once I have an arm secured around my brother’s shoulder, our mother tilts up her tear-streaked face and touches my cheek.

The look in her eyes is one of abject, gut-wrenching sorrow. “Zoran, you’re the man now. Guard Balthazar with your life, son.”

I can only nod once. A choked sob wells up in my throat. Our father rushes us to the basement door. As we head down he remains on the top step. I turn to meet his serious gaze just before the door shuts tightly.

Beneath the padded workout mats covering the floor lies a small metal ring. When lifted up, it reveals a room that used to be a small root cellar barely big enough for two people.

“Save them!” My mother had begged my father only minutes before.

I shake with the need to go above and help them, but I made a promise to protect B. As we lower ourselves down into the cramped space, I check my holster for the Sig Sauer pistol that my father gave me on my previous birthday.

It takes me a minute to maneuver the mat above the trap door. It needs to lie perfectly flat or we will be found.

In the blackness my brother sobs, heartbroken.

He’s got to stop crying.

I take a deep breath and reluctantly clamp my hand across Balthazar’s mouth. He can’t see me, but he turns and buries his face in my t-shirt. It is soon saturated with his tears.

We hear loud banging and the unmistakable sputtering of a machine gun. And then the endless scream that is permanently tattooed onto my soul. Our mother’s gut-wrenching shriek. They’ve killed our father. That is the only reason she would howl in such extreme, animalistic agony. I lower my head in shame as her screaming abruptly stops.

I can’t breathe ….

***

A quick, barking shout like that of a wounded animal caught in a snare makes me spring upright in an instant. The only light in the room is the soft glow from the embers in the fireplace and a few streaks of moonlight. I feel him beside me on my left; his heat radiates against my body. My eyes adjust quickly. He’s pushed upright on his toned arms and he’s struggling to take in air.

“Are you … I mean, is everything all right?” I struggle to shake off the deep sleep, wondering if he has post-traumatic stress. Then I realize where I am, that we are lying in bed together, and try to contain my disbelief. I’m torn between compassion and fear.

He turns completely away from me, as if ashamed. Finally he answers in a rumbling tone, “Yeah, nightmare.”

Oh, shit. I can’t simply ignore that. I know how vivid they can be. An idea begins to form in my mind, that I can turn this to my advantage. Perhaps I should try harder to be pleasant to him? Maybe at some point he will even let his guard down.

“They’re the worst, right? I mean, you can’t prep for them or anything.”

My voice trails off at the end. This is quickly becoming uncomfortable. I mean, who chats about bad dreams with their abductor, right? That’s just … wrong on so many levels, and I’m not manipulative enough to take advantage of his vulnerability. Not when I know how vivid nightmares can be. I’ll have to find another way.

He swings his legs over the side of the high bed, props his elbows on his thighs, and lowers his head into his hands. He scrubs his palms back and forth across his short hair.

Rather than press him, I take my glass from earlier over to the basin sink. I fill it and down the cold water before refilling it and walking back to the bed.

He’s still leaning forward, so I gently but hesitantly touch his hot back. “Here. Drink this. Always makes me feel better.”

Zoran reaches out for the glass and drinks deeply before placing it on the low table next to the bed. I take a step back, now fully awake after this perplexing encounter. I’m alert and once again wary of him.

His callused hand reaches out and snags me around my left hip, pulling me close, inside of his spread legs. At this point I’m overtly aware of my stark nakedness. I want nothing more than to scramble back under the covers and shield my body, but he holds me fast.

“Zoran, please. You need to tell me what I’m doing here. Why haven’t you killed me yet?” The last part comes out slow, hesitant.

“Princeza, if you’re not about to tell me what I want to know from you, then hush. The time for talking is over now.”

Oh. My. God.

Arms as thick as jungle pythons grasp my waist and pull me closer to his hard body. He wastes zero time before he takes me with his lips. Needy, so needy and passionate. Unlike any other kiss I’ve had before. No, those kisses that came before his could not even jokingly be called practice. His mouth is rapturous, moving so hot against my lips. It’s as if he’s determined to replace the images from his nightmare with a more sensual, pleasing reality.

That wicked tongue probes and plunders until I’m nearly mindless. All of the blood is tunneling in one direction, straight to my throbbing core. How can one man be this good? Undoubtedly it’s due to a heaping dose of chemistry flowing between us, coupled with the fact that I’m warming to him, especially after seeing him vulnerable, even if for a brief time.

His hands glide lower to kneed and squeeze my tender ass cheeks. A deep growl erupts into my mouth. His imposing shaft is so hard against my stomach that it threatens to force its way out of his boxer briefs.

I gasp as a firm smack lands with deadly accuracy in the middle of my still throbbing left butt cheek. A second later I’m lifted high up against him.

He’s already moving us across the shadowed bedroom by the time I manage to sputter, “W-what are you doing?”

No reply.

Before long we’re inside the glass shower and the lever is shoved to ‘on,’ allowing a cascade of warm water to pour over us. He traps me between his body and the slick glass wall. With my legs hooked around his waist, I feel helpless, a slave to his dominating power. A thrill shoots through me at the dark, exotic thought.

Once again his mouth comes down on mine with a feverish passion. I should deny him but it’s just so surreal. I have to have more, just a little bit. I know that this is like playing with a wild animal. He is feral and absolutely unpredictable.

He pulls back just enough to slide his warm hand between us. I’m not concerned in the least about him dropping me. He could hold me up against him with just one arm.

Two fingers stroke with firm intensity against my eager clit, then back farther, sliding deeper against my pussy. Yes. One thick finger slips inside and begins to pump in and out of my dewy channel.

“Mmm … oh!” My needy cry cuts through the steam.

The most erotic voice imaginable rumbles directly against my lips, “That’s right, Carew, relax for me. I know exactly what you need, princeza.”

That accent, nearly guttural in its intensity, unnerves me. But I have to ask, “Do I have a choice?”

He says huskily, “I think your body has made the choice for you,” and continues with the steamy assault of kisses and finger play. His thick fingers pump relentlessly in and out of my drenched pussy.

My breath hitches. “Stop.”

He removes his fingers and pulls his head back just far enough to make eye contact. His eyes show amusement. “Is that what you really want? You say one thing, but your body begs to be taken.”

My eyes flare with outrage.

“Put me down,” I protest weakly, desperation threading my voice, although inside I’m coming apart.

“No.”

His sexy-as-sin kisses start up once again. His brawny size adds to my feelings of helplessness as I’m held, suspended, against the slick wall. His impossibly smooth lips meander down my throat, moving lazily across my shoulder toward my eager nipples. I gasp as his scorching tongue swipes over one of my tight, pink buds. It’s heaven.

“Please, please stop!” The whimper does not sound convincing. That’s it, my last ditch verbal effort to thwart him. I’m losing this battle fast. My back arches, betraying my need.

He continues to suck greedily as his huge hands kneed and explore my ass. Oh, hell! Is that me moaning like a sexed-up courtesan? I’m barely aware of his right hand sliding down the warm wetness between our stomachs. He tugs his black boxer briefs down his legs and kicks them impatiently into the far corner of the shower.

This really shouldn’t be happening, yet I’m so amped up that I want to melt into this man.

“Oh, oh my!” I call out in a breathy voice.

Both hands wrap around the base of my ass and raise me up. I look down through the shadows and steam to see that I’m spread wide and perched atop the huge, wet crown of his daunting cock. Sinful.

His lush gray eyes bore into mine as he whispers, “Agree that this is what you want from me. There’s no need to feel shame.”

I shove all formalities and hesitations swiftly aside and nod once, knowing full well what I’m agreeing to. Our desire is mutual and he knows it.

With a rich growl, he slowly lowers me down onto his hot thickness.

“Ohh, ah!” My cry echoes in the enclosure.

Pleasure and pain mix in a sublime, throbbing ache. My earlier thoughts were spot on because everything about Zoran is larger than life. I try to relax and breathe deeply, hoping that he will fit.

He has me plastered up against the glass with his knees slightly bent, controlling his entry. I’m drenched for him, but it will still take some maneuvering to accommodate his girth.

A low, animalistic sound erupts from him as the head of his cock manages to breach me. I moan out in mindless pleasure. This is it. I couldn’t back out now, even if I wanted to. I don’t.

I will never have better, I know it. It’s wrong, but I have to experience this. Experience him.

As he thrusts into my gripping channel, I feel the first flutters of an unstoppable orgasm bearing down on me. His chest heaves as he slowly enters me, clearly struggling not to drill into me with everything he has.

“Agh, Zoran!” I cry out as he shoves the rest of the way into me. His cock feels unbelievably massive and intense.

That talented hand snakes around once again to rub my needy clit. It feels so fabulous that I’m having trouble focusing.

His stormy eyes hold mine captive. He speaks to me in a throaty rasp, his exotic accent thicker than I’ve ever heard it. “Tigar. Call me Tigar.”

With my forearms twined around his corded neck, I lean in closer, staring deeply into his eyes, and whisper seductively, “Give it to me, Tigar.”

His mysterious eyes burn into mine a second before he begins to really move. The sensation is euphoric. His thrusts are delicious as they drive into me. He is every woman’s dark fantasy come to life. His hip movements are so skillful that they surpass anything I’ve experienced or even envisioned. He’s not just good, he’s intoxicatingly incomparable.

His voice is tense as he asks, “This is exactly what you need, isn’t it, princeza? To be fucked hard by a man like me, who knows how to control your wildness, to dominate you. To force you to yield. Isn’t that right? Tell me, Carew.” The intensity in his gravelly, foreign voice is so very thick.

His dark, precise words, combined with the relentless pleasure he’s bestowing on my clit, instantly make me come undone. I spasm hard around his length, crying out with the pent-up passion I’ve been wrestling with. I struggle for air as the contractions climb higher within me, cresting in a fever pitch of unbelievable, dreamlike pleasure.

His pounding thrusts turn savage as he holds me suspended in his powerful arms. His mouth covers mine in a claiming kiss that leaves me lost for him. I cling to him, feeling completely vulnerable as he guides my body, working me up and down his glorious cock. I’ve always known that I wanted, needed a strong man. He exceeds all these fantasies by being the most masculine person I’ve ever encountered. At this beautiful moment, nothing on earth could separate us. The explosive energy we share is hotter than the surface of the sun.

Finally able to form coherent thoughts, I wail helplessly, “Yes, yes, I need you exactly like this, Tigar!” I’ve never wanted anyone more.

He surprises me by tweaking my right nipple hard and growling out, “Again. Come again for me, princeza.” He’s moving so fast and forceful, in and out, pummeling my saturated pussy. His command sends me headlong over the cliff as my body explodes in another wave of ecstasy.

“Tigar!” I scream out, so loudly that it reverberates through the enclosure. I’m barely coherent, heedless of any words or actions.

He’s on a mission now, fucking me so hard for his fervent pleasure. It’s as if he wants to brand me as his. My back is heaved up higher against the slick glass with each measured swing of his sculpted hips.

Suddenly, his coordination breaks and the thrusts become choppier, more sporadic, just before he cries out, “Ugh, ugh, Carew!”

His essence pours into me, so scalding that I feel as if I’m burning up. An untapped wildness within me actually welcomes it. He’s far surpassed what I ever imagined a lover could be.

We both gasp for breath. His wet head hangs forward against my left shoulder. The closeness is bliss. Thick moments pass with only the sound of water from the shower hitting the stone floor as he holds me tightly against his heated torso.

His head lifts and the look on his face is dead serious. “I knew that you would be this irresistible, princeza, but just so you know, I’m keeping you here until I find out exactly what you were up to in Zagreb. You’re all mine.”

Still dazed from the outstanding orgasm I blink twice and try to read his expression. It’s stern, mystifying. He’s not kidding. The tides have turned and I know that I am bound to him by some unfathomable tie.

Chapter Eight

Hurt Me Good

After slowly lowering me down, he leaves me alone in the shower. I know that we both wanted it desperately, even if I’m too stubborn to admit it aloud. It’s the stark truth. Our sexual encounter was beyond comparison, leaving me shaken. We are two polar opposites that attract each other at every turn. I try to compose myself as the water pours over my body, but it is not easy. I have to steady myself against the glass. I’m still dazed from the unforgettable sex.

My thoughts turn to his last comment. Maybe he found what I took from Juric’s computer, and in the wrong hands—namely his—it would be prime blackmail material. Only a professional would understand those diagrams, but he’s smart enough to know that it’s stolen material.

What if he’s already called his boss? What if he just wanted a piece of ass before he hands me over? Fear begins to roll through me like a tornado.

A bold voice from the opposite side of the steamed glass cuts into my thoughts. “Turn the water off and come out now. You’ve been in there for thirty minutes.”

I reach for the silver handle, but I’m reluctant to turn it off. Having to face him is not high on my list of priorities.

“A towel, please.” I hold my hand out, waiting expectantly. Nothing.

“Fine!” I snap and step out to see him holding one open for me as his scorching eyes drink in my nudity.

They take their time traveling over my body, as if he’s savoring a rare cognac. Let him look his fill, I’m still not fessing up to anything. I wish I could cross my arms in defiance but I don’t want to bump my tender wrist. I stand two feet away from him, dripping all over the wood floor. The room is toasty. He seems to keep a constant fire going up here and I have to admit his home is quite pleasant.

I reach out to grab the towel, but he takes a quick step back, shaking his head in open disapproval.

“No, princeza. Come to me and you may have it.”

What? He can’t speak to me like that! And why does he have to look so unbelievably gorgeous this morning? The dawn light is beginning to filter in, highlighting his unique looks. A white, fitted polo shirt stretches across his upper body, showing off his biceps. Sexy, dark washed jeans sit perfectly on his hips. My eyes travel down to his bare feet and up to meet his serious eyes.

“I’m not yours to train, big guy. Do what you want but I won’t ever submit to you!” I yell the last part and lean in, trying hard to convey whatever shred of power I have left.

One side of his mouth quirks up, as if he’s stifling a laugh. “If you willingly come to me, I will give you clothes.”

I narrow my eyes and weigh my choices. Stand here naked and drip for however long, or take the two steps toward him. I remain motionless for a minute before reluctantly taking the few steps into his arms and the soft, waiting towel.

His finger lifts my chin. “See, was that so hard? You give me what I want and you will receive the same. Fair enough, right?”

I huff. I loathe being this helpless, feeling vulnerable around him. He takes his time gently toweling off my body, stopping to lift my left arm, the one with the gash.

He removes the wet bandage and says softly, “It is healing nicely.”

I pull away, my irritability at a boiling point. “And why should you give a fuck? You’re the one that caused my accident.”

Cool eyes narrow in keen observation. “That is not an acceptable response, princeza.” He points a sure, steady finger at the bed. “Now lean across the mattress. You’re going to be punished for that naughty mouth of yours, woman.”

I scoff and rake my gaze over him in arrogance. “I sure as hell don’t think so!”

Damn, how can he be so calm when my blood is racing like a fighter jet?

“It seems we are deadlocked, Carew. I really don’t like repeating myself.”

His accent is so sexy and rumbly that it unnerves me. I hit him with my very best ‘die now’ stare.

Viper quick, he strikes, his strong hand reaching out for my wrist. Before I know it, I’m dragged across the space toward the bed, writhing and yelling, “Let me go!”

Unfortunately for me, he doesn’t give a flip what I think. He shoves me down onto the plush mattress, my feet still planted on the floor. A large foot works its way between mine and wedges my bare legs open to their maximum width. The humiliation of being spread out like this is nearly overwhelming.

“I hate you! Get the fuck off of me!”

He takes his time leaning into me, my back to his front. Once his heat is soaking into me, subduing me, he whispers all too calmly, “You don’t hate me, princeza. You hate giving up your beloved control. The only person you have to admit this to is yourself, sweetheart. Now take your punishment for your disrespect.”

“Go to hell, you jerk.” The last word catches in my throat as he withdraws his warmth. A hard swat lands forcefully on my tender behind. A huge hand between my small shoulder blades pins me down against the white duvet. I struggle wildly, legs kicking out in a futile attempt to get away from his relentless spanking. The blows are methodical and cover every inch of my rear and sensitive thighs.

“Stop! Please, oh God, stop!”

“Not until you apologize for being rude.”

He keeps up the punishment as I try hard not to show how he is affecting me. Just his hands on me, even in this odd manner, have my pussy pulsing and longing for that perfect cock of his.

Oh no. Please, please don’t let him feel between my legs.

I was hoping he might be tired, but no such luck. In actuality he seems to be just getting warmed up.

Reluctantly, I plead, “I-I’m sorry. Stop now.”

My cry was faint, but I know that he heard me because the spanking ceases and only our closely mingled, raspy breathing remains.

I squeeze my eyes shut as my earlier fear becomes reality. A lone finger slowly reaches down between my parted legs. A feather-light touch swipes the center of my dewy lips.

I suck in a strangled breath and hear him whisper, “So wet, princeza. Mmm ….”

There is nothing I can do, save bury my face in the soft bedding and groan in shame. I can feel my face heat up from the appalling truth.

Thankfully he inflicts only the one knowing touch before his hands and body are gone.

“Stand up.”

I wish he would just leave! I can hardly bear to face him after I was so turned on by his spanking. Reluctantly I push up onto my good hand and stand, brushing my pale, damp locks away from my eyes. He crosses the room and crouches down in front of the large, open wardrobe.

He reaches in and pulls out a pink and black bag. When he stands, I take two shaky steps backward because his shaft is so huge and erect that the straining outline is visible though his jeans.

Ignoring my look of trepidation he says, “These are for you. You will wear these and nothing else while you are here, Carew. Do not argue. You must know by now how strict I am. When you are dressed, come downstairs to me.”

He sets the elegant, pale-pink bag on the center of the high bed. Across the side, in beautiful black script, it reads, “Agent Provocateur.” Seriously? He’s joking, right? He must be. Does he really think that I will allow him to dress me up like some kinky sex fantasy for his pleasure? He must be off the rails crazy!

He heads out of the room before I have a chance to toss out a sassy retort. I put my good hand on my hip and huff, eyes never leaving the mysterious bag. What is in there? Curiosity eventually gets the best of me and I drag over the oversized parcel. Searching through the thick fluff of black tissue paper, I find four identical boxes, each one secured with a silky black ribbon tied off into a perfect bow.

I feel a little thrill, as if I’m about to unwrap a Christmas gift. I carefully pull the boxes out, discard the bag, and make quick work of the ribbon on the top box. Lifting the cover, I push the delicate, jet-black tissue aside and stare down at glistening white silk.

The folded garment looks sumptuous, so much so that I’m reluctant to touch it. I reach gingerly into the box and pull it out by the thin spaghetti straps. It’s a floor-length nightgown with an indecently high lace slit from ankle to upper thigh. The bodice is adorned with an X of matching lace; small pieces of the silk are strategically situated to cover one’s nipples.

It is both undeniably beautiful and supremely sensual. I can’t resist slipping it over my head. As the gown floats to my ankles, I marvel at the quality of the material. I have never worn anything so soft, feminine, and lovely. Peeking down into the box, I spy a matching white silk thong. The material is flutter-light. I step into it and slowly pull it up beneath the gown. I’m perplexed. Why is he doing this?

I cross to the wardrobe, remembering that there is a mirror mounted on one of the tall doors. Swinging it open, I’m stunned by the vision before me. The gown is so gorgeous and the fit so perfect that it seems to have been tailor-made for me. I can’t resist a little twirl. What girl doesn’t adore beautiful silk lingerie?

Hmmm, what else did he pick up on his little shopping trip?

Inside the second box is an identical gown, except this one is raven black. Matching panties as well. Ravishing. In the third is a supremely short nightie in cherry-red silk. It screams sex and devilish deeds. The thong is red and gossamer sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. His taste is impeccable.

The final box holds a jaw-dropping, short kimono robe made entirely from white Spanish lace, so fine that I am reluctant to touch it. Why would he spend the equivalent of several thousand dollars on lingerie for me? I can’t figure out his reasoning, but I hope this is a clear sign he isn’t going to toss me to Juric or leave me in a shallow grave anytime soon.

I place each item back in its box, excepting the white gown and new thong I’m wearing. I know him well enough at this point to understand that if I’m not downstairs soon he will come looking for me, and I seriously don’t want that.

I make use of his brush and do my best to put my hair in order before descending the steps. As I reach the bottom step, my senses revel in the delicious scent wafting through the lower level of his charming home. My mouth begins to water as I wander toward the kitchen, suddenly shy about showing off my new gown.

A fire blazes in the empty living room and low, calming music is playing in another. I stop at the threshold of the kitchen. He’s chopping vegetables on a large wooden cutting board and slowly lays the knife down as his glittering gray eyes meet mine. He is still. Too still. Does he like what he sees?

A deep rumble cuts through the air. “Turn around.”

Commands … again! Annoyed, I do as he asks and turn around in a slow circle.

“You look amazing, princeza.” Warmth flows through his voice.

I’m still angry about being held against my will and don’t want to miss an opportunity to let him know this. “Yeah, I suppose so, because apparently your boss isn’t the only one with expensive taste.”

Oh no! His features turn to granite and his teeth grind together. He is clearly furious, if the flint-like set of his jaw is any indicator.

A low, stern warning erupts: “Watch your mouth, Carew.”

Without skipping a beat, I plant a hand sassily on my silk-clad hip and and say, “Apparently you’re watching it enough for the both of us!”

I back up, fast, and nearly trip over the long silk of my beautiful new gown as he stalks straight toward me, furious intent burning in his eyes. Apparently, I just pushed his boundaries to their outer limits.

Mental note: he’s named ‘Tigar’ for a reason, and unfortunately for me, I’m about to find out why.

Chapter Nine

Arrogant Angel

Comparing me to that dickhead, Juric? Fuck no. I can’t believe that came out of her mouth! Western woman never seem to be able to curb their tongues. She’s in for it now, regardless of how angelic and fuckable she looks in the exquisite gown I bought for her. You would think that she would be grateful, but no, not my headstrong princeza. She’ll learn.

She’s backing away from me, as well she should, but she can’t escape. I step close and look down at her. She looks so delicate with her back pressed up against the stone wall beside the fireplace. She’s trying to hide her fear, but her shallow breathing is coming out in little fluttering pants.

“Apologize.”

She looks away, clearly uncomfortable but trying to save face, to maintain her bravado. “No, I won’t.”

I should be used to her cocky behavior by now. At every turn she has a way of pushing my launch button, sending me into fully pissed off mode, making me want to slam my head against the door of my fucking Hummer … repeatedly.

Bending low, I sling her up over my shoulder. Here we go again, baby.

“Oomph! What? Let me go! Put me down, you crazy man!”

My hand secures her ass to my shoulder as I move back through the kitchen. She is so light that her weight barely registers. The silk gown she’s wearing matches her skin in its smooth perfection.

I was erect the moment I saw her. Fuck, I was hard buying the damn lingerie for her back in Zagreb! Whatever it is about this woman that is driving me wild remains a mystery, and I’m not big on those.

“No! I don’t want to go back there! Put me down right now!”

Flipping the light switch up against my free shoulder, I carry her down the steps into my gym. I ignore the smacks landing repeatedly across my back. She struggles wildly, but in vain, as I stoop to deposit her once again on the leather massage table.

Before she can right herself, I shove the silk of her fine gown up to her curved waist and pull the white thong off her legs. She doesn’t have a chance to protest as I drop swiftly to my knees and get busy. Both of my wide, scarred hands hold fast and tight to her creamy, unblemished upper thighs. Good, she’s pinned down.

I’m on her sweet little pussy inside of a few seconds, lapping with slow, sensual intent. She wants to mess with me? I’ll play right back, making her desperate for the pleasure that I can offer her.

“Aagh! Ooh, oh! P-please! Zoran!”

She’s moaning and calling out in desperate, needy cries of lust as I slip my tongue deeper into her tight little sheath. I nearly cease the tongue fucking because the need to collect myself is close to unbearable thanks to her sweet scent and slick, honey-laced pussy.

I’ve never encountered such perfection. I would have clearly remembered and would never have let that shit go.

I pull back for a second to draw in a calming breath while gently swirling her bright pink clit with the pad of my index finger, applying just enough pressure to set her off. Her hips buck up from the leather as I descend onto her once again with my mouth. I’m hungry, so starved for her. She looks like a gorgeous sacrifice, light against dark, laid out only for my pleasure.

Just when all her muscles go taut like a violin string—a telling sign that she is about to come for me—I stop abruptly and release my hold on her.

Lusty green eyes lock onto mine. I see the confusion there.

“Please,” she whimpers to me while brushing a few golden strands of hair from her flushed face.

I don’t like doing this, but she needs to learn to respect me.

I arch a brow. “Please what?”

She holds my eyes and nearly begs, “Please, Tigar, finish this. Make me come.”

Goddamn. She is almost impossible to refuse. Almost.

I’m stern, unyielding, as I tell her, “No. You’ll stay down here until I finish preparing our meal, and at that point, if you are willing to apologize for your blatant disrespect, you may join me upstairs.”

“But ….”

She begins to protest. Unbelievable! My eyes narrow and she stops mid-statement.

I wipe her wet juices from my mouth with the back of my hand and point a sure finger at her. “Watch yourself, princeza.”

She closes her mouth and snaps her knees shut at the same time. She remains silent as I turn to leave.

On the top step, I reach out for the handle, my back still turned away from her. “Don’t think of coming. It’s never allowed unless I give it to you.”

My lips twitch into a grin as I step into the hallway. Her exasperated huff, audible all the way up the flight of stairs, tells me that I’m right on track. It looks like I just found the perfect way to punish my naughty Carew without harming her.

Such a sweet pussy …. I am nearly mindless with the need to strip the gown completely off so I can fuck her ruthlessly on the table. I was barely able to hang on. She has to be taught that disrespecting a man like me can only lead to frustration.

After washing my hands in the large sink, I move over to the cutting board and resume chopping the vegetables. We Croatians make a big deal out of our midday meals, keeping breakfasts to a minimum, usually a nice roll accompanied by strong coffee. Today I’m making janjetina for lunch (roasted lamb rubbed with Mediterranean herbs). I’ll also serve mlinci, (flatbread) and baked vegetables.

Being a big guy I tend to eat a lot. In Zagreb, finding a spot where I can eat quickly while on the job is a necessity, but when I’m home I enjoy the creativity of cooking. It is an interesting stress reliever. B is always digging around for leftovers when he swings by for his daily workout. He should be here in a few hours, actually.

I pause mid-chop and wonder if she’s chilly down there. No, she’s fine. It wasn’t too cool. Women seem to get colder more easily than men. I’m keeping that in mind because the evenings here drop to around 4.4 Celsius, or around 40 Fahrenheit, with winter still making its presence known in the early spring air.

I make a mental note to keep all the fireplaces going. She doesn’t have much in the way of clothing and seeing as it’s my house and I’m in charge, it’s staying that way. Today is the day she’ll start talking—over a nice long lunch. Either that, or she’ll face consequences I doubt she’ll enjoy.

Chapter Ten

Croatian Lessons

Infuriating man! How in the hell could I have begged him for release? What is wrong with me? Ugh, pathetic!

After straightening my gown, I collect myself and hop off the high table. Picking up my discarded underwear, I slip them back into place. Could there be anything in this room I could use to my advantage? After an extensive search of the large cellar, I only come across a myriad of boxing and martial arts sparring equipment. In effect, nothing that could do damage.

There is a massive steel bank safe in the shadowy, far corner that most likely contains a gun and/or a martial arts weapon collection. Damn, I wish I had the combination to that baby! I’m handy with both, and although I adore animals, I wouldn’t hesitate to take down those guard dogs if they stood between me and freedom.

The gym is well equipped with the best weights and mats available. I have seen many of the same items in my martial arts school back in Atlanta. No wonder he has such a heavenly body.

Don’t go there again, Carew!

I’m still unnerved by our recent passionate encounter, and the sex last night was as close to perfection as it gets. I was unaware of how alive, how on fire I could feel during sex. My attraction to him is clouding my judgment. Part of me yearns for his company, wanting to learn more about him. I’ve never known a man like him, so strong and virile. So certain of his beliefs. I’m truly intrigued … but always wary.

At that thought, the cellar door opens. I turn, the silk swishing at my legs, and wait, not wanting to make him angry again; I really don’t want to spend the entire day down here.

“Well?” he says in a smooth, calm voice.

Breathing in through my nose I begin, “I apologize, Zoran. It was rude to compare you to Juric. I adore the gown. It’s beautiful, actually. Thank you. I’m just frustrated at being trapped here.”

I hold my breath and wait. He seems to be taking in what I said, and after a few seconds he calls out, “All right then, Carew. Come to me.”

He still sounds annoyed. Will I ever grow accustomed to his agro attitude? I mean, come on! A sassy reply is on the tip of my tongue when I am overcome by the heavenly blend of scents wafting down the steps to tempt me. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.

I silently climb the steep stairs, careful not to look up at him lest I lose my nerve. When I reach the top, he moves back, allowing me to walk ahead of him down the hallway into a room I’ve never been in. The long table is set with silver utensils and white linen napkins. Does he eat like this when he’s alone? I can’t help but wonder.

He steps around me and pulls out a formal, padded dining chair. “Please sit.”

A caring kidnapper? Could this get any weirder? The thought flees as the overflowing plates demand my attention. A white and blue-patterned platter full of succulent sliced lamb rests in the center of the table. There is also a basket of soft-looking bread and a plate of colorful cooked vegetables. It all looks amazing.

Don’t go there, girl. He wants you compliant for him and Stockholm syndrome is so not your friend!

Zoran lowers his large frame into a chair at the head of the table, directly to my left. He places his napkin across his lap with graceful ease before reaching for an unusual, disk-shaped bottle that holds a lemon-yellow liquor. The label reads ‘Sljivovica.’ He fills the bottom quarter of my wide-bodied glass snifter and then pours at least twice that much into his.

“Have you tried this before?”

I shake my head no.

“It’s what you would call plum brandy or schnapps. Very well known throughout my country.”

“Is it common to drink alcohol at noon?”

He gives me a truly perplexed look. “In America you do not?”

“It’s not common, no.”

“How strange.”

I gesture back and forth between us. “As if this isn’t?”

He sets the heavy bottle of brandy down with a hard thunk. “Are you angling for a challenge that we both know you can’t win, princeza?”

I look away in annoyance and notice all the mostly black and white photographs neatly displayed along the walls. “Are these all your relatives, Zoran?”

“Yes.” He places a portion of everything on my plate before serving himself.

“Do any of them live around here?”

His hands freeze mid-air. I watch his knuckles go white with tension. His fingers grip the silver serving utensils as if he wants to strangle them.

Uh oh, really bad topic ….

He manages to push the words out. “Everyone is dead.”

“Oh my. I-I’m so sorry.”

This has gone from awkward to supremely uncomfortable in a flash. I smooth my napkin for the seventh time and stare at the yellow liquor in embarrassment.

When he speaks again he seems to have calmed a bit. “Please eat, before everything gets cold.”

I begin to cut the lamb with a knife but there really is no need. It’s so tender that I could just use my fork. I take the first small bite and close my eyes, groaning with appreciation.

“Mmm. This is really delicious.”

He’s watching me closely. “I’m glad you like it. Try the Sljivovica.”

I reach for the elegant, weighted glass, pause for a second, and decide that toasting with a kidnapper is just wrong. I’m not going there. I take a small sip of the thick liquid. Fruity and potent, but quite tasty nonetheless.

“It’s very good.”

“Da.” Yes.

He begins to eat, but only after making certain that I am enjoying my meal. He is so frustrating and complex. I’m drawn to him but know that this whole situation is not right.

He cuts into my thoughts with a question. “What does your name mean?”

I’m taken aback for a second but answer, “Carew is an old Welsh name from my father’s side. I believe that I had a great-great-great aunt who lived in the early nineteenth century named Carew. My mother and father took a shine to the name when they saw it on our family tree. I absolutely hated it as a child. I was mercilessly teased on the playground. You know, the usual ‘Hey cashew, are you related to Mr. Peanut?’ That sort of thing, all day long. Now I’ve grown to like it, I guess.”

He listens intently as I speak. I take another sip of the strong plum brandy and ask him, “How about you? When and how did you pick up the nickname ‘Tigar’?”

His full lips turn up, as if he is recalling a fond memory. “My father enjoyed the sport of boxing. I would watch him train for hours and begged incessantly for him to teach me. When I was eight, he began to take me seriously and put me on a routine alongside him. When I was ten, he let me help him design the downstairs training room. That damn bag must have knocked me on my ass thousands of times, but I never once cried or quit. I trained hard.

“At twelve years of age I had my first match at a regional boxing gym. My opponent was skilled but I laid into him fiercely. I knocked him out in the second round. As I stepped between the ropes, sweaty as hell and relieved not to have humiliated myself or my father, he said to me ‘Way to go, my Tigar.’ He and everyone else began calling me ‘Tigar’ ever since that day.”

I’m curious and want to ask what happened to everyone but hold back, instead saying quietly, “It suits you.”

He dips his head, making a low sound in the back of his throat that I take as agreement.

“So, Carew. How is it that you are skilled in martial arts?”

“And just how do you know I am?”

After taking a long drink of his brandy, he tilts the glass to me. “One of my guards told me that you put Juric into a sleeper hold and choked him out. Also, downstairs last night, I recognized the precision in your kicks. That does not happen randomly. So, are you going to be polite and answer me, princeza?”

I really don’t want to get into it with him right now, especially since I seem to come up against a wall at every turn. “Fine. I’ve studied Aikido for most of my life. Satisfied?”

He gives a short laugh. “You are a lively one, aren’t you?”

“Whatever. When are you going to let me go? It’s either that or wack me off, right? So tell me either way.”

“Demands?”

I take one more sip of the liquor, enjoying the taste along with the confidence that it’s giving me. I place the glass lightly down onto the table. “You don’t get it, do you? You think that I fucked with your job, but you supremely fucked with mine, big guy.”

His arms grow tense and I trudge forward, matching his glacial stare. “That’s right, get mad, because I’m pissed! I have a career that is important to me. Not for the money, but because I basically toiled in the salt mines to obtain my present position. And now, here I sit in some fantasy-fucking-reality with you, all because I have a jacked up wrist! I’ll let you in on a secret, Zoran. If I was one hundred percent, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me,Tigar!” I purposefully sneer the nickname at him.

I watch as he places his fork and knife down slowly, with measured control. But he stands abruptly, the force of his upward momentum knocking his elegant chair backward to clatter on the floor. His imposing height is astonishing.

Damn, damn! What have I done?

“Upstairs.” It comes out as a low growl. Impossible to misinterpret.

“Make me!” I lean forward and spit the words at him.

I quickly slip out from the side of my chair as he lunges for me, missing me by inches. I take off, running blindly. Shit, shit! I can’t go outside. Where, where? I’m in the foyer in seconds.

Whipping my head around, I see that he’s not behind me, which means he is coming around through the living room. Damn! I rush up the flight of stairs, nearly tripping twice on my floor length gown. Once I’m at the top I realize that this was a bad choice because within the vast space there is really only one place to hide: under the high bed. I wiggle under it, the silk of my gown allowing for a smooth glide on my tummy. I lie still and pant like a scared rabbit. Waiting ….

Too soon. In seconds I hear the inevitable footfalls of my captor. They are heavy and steady as he makes his way to me. Why did I even bother to hide? That was just an asinine move, Carew!

His steps become louder. I see his bare feet and jean-clad legs crossing to me. He stops just beside the bed, yet remains eerily silent. I was half-expecting him to command me to come out. Suddenly, in a quick move, he leans down and snatches my right ankle. A scream lodges in my throat as I’m yanked out and flipped over to face him once again. There really is no escape ….

***

“Now is that any way to behave, princeza?”

Before the girl can answer, I scoop her up from the floor and toss her roughly onto my bed. She scrambles back away from me while I reach behind my neck to pull off my polo shirt, followed by my belt, jeans, and boxer briefs.

She can’t hide anything from me. Her fear quickly morphs into longing as her eyes to trail over my nude body. She remains silent as I climb onto the bed, moving toward her. The need to be inside her, pumping deep into her tight pussy, is a craving that I can’t resist any longer. Her arrogant behavior and the fact that she is so brave sends my primal need for her into overdrive.

As I grab her right calf, she gasps in anticipation. She craves the chase just as much as I do. I lean in to nuzzle her pale skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses up her unbelievably smooth legs. Fuck—she makes me as horny as a teenager. I can think of only one thing—to impale her sweet body on my throbbing dick and ride her until she can’t even think of misbehaving.

I move my eager mouth from one wide-spread thigh to the other. Only a hint of white lace and satin covers the golden curls between her legs. She lets out a light whimper as I slowly draw the scrap of underwear off her hips and down her silky legs.

I lower my weight once more. I drag my tongue across her inner thigh, an inch away from her shiny folds. She arches up, silently begging me for it. I hear her labored breathing as she’s struggles hard not to moan, my sexy little Carew.

Taking my time, drawing it out, I suck and run my tongue along her legs before moving up to her pretty, flat stomach. I make her wet pussy wait, expecting her to be on fire before I go anywhere near that gorgeous cunt of hers. My eyes flick up and her head is craning back, hair tossing back and forth. Excellent.

I draw down the straps of her dress before massaging her pert tits. I’m annoyed by the roughess of my fingertips. I have the callused hands of a fighter, and she deserves better.

“Ungh, yes!” she cries out as she arches her back, eager for more.

Rolling and tweaking her pink nipples until they are at full attention for me, I suckle first one and then the other tight, pink tip. I continue the assault until she begins thrashing about beneath me, so fucking needy, my hot princeza. That’s what I love most about her, that beautiful, unchecked wildness.

I work my way up higher. Well-placed licks and nips on her silky neck are her undoing, and she grinds against my shaft. Her mindless cries tell me she is desperate for release. My mouth hovers an inch above hers as I wait to see what she will do.

Gorgeous, glazed eyes open to meet mine as her small hands reach up to thread through my hair and pull my mouth down onto hers. A soft, husky groan escapes her lips.

Well, fuck me. If this shit isn’t a vision from a wet dream, I don’t know what is.

I force her knees wider apart with my legs, preparing to enter her. I’m having a hard time holding back; her mindless hip-grinding is the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I want to make it good for her. I need her to shatter for me as surely as I need to breathe.

“Please, please Zoran!” Her strained cry is urgent.

My voice is harsh as I stare down at her and say, “All right, baby, here we go.”

I swing my hips back to allow my heavy shaft to come forward, nudging against her slick entrance.

She bucks twice beneath me. “Please, I-I really need you inside me!”

“Mmm, fuck me, princeza. I knew you would be like this, so damn wild for me. Spread wider for me, baby.” Immediately she does as she’s told. “Good girl.”

With a mind of its own, my cock bumps forcefully against her wet, pink pussy. I glance down at and am stunned by how erotic the image is. My veined, straining shaft is about to impale her tiny, delicate slit. Fuck me, the image is so powerful, it will be forever burned into my brain.

Please last … make it good for her, so fucking fantastic that she will forget any other lovers that came before me.

I gradually pump my way into her. It takes four steady pushes into her tight sheath but finally I’m buried to the hilt. I clench my teeth, determined not to come too quickly. Her snug perfection makes me nearly insane with lust.

I stare down into her sparkling eyes and groan, unable to form the words in English. “Kao svila si oko mog kurca.” I want her to know how silky she feels around my cock.

Uncertain if she understood me, I lean in close and run my tongue slowly along her lush bottom lip.

Her melodic voice cuts through our labored breathing. “Tigar, I ache for you! I-I can’t wait. Give it to me hard, please. Now!”

Unable to hold back one second longer, I push up on my forearms and start to move in a steady, punishing rhythm. A low moan escapes me as her pussy seems to suck my rigid cock back inside her each time I thrust. She is hanging onto my neck as if it were a lifeline, as if we were the only two people left on the planet.

I need to get her there, and fast, because this feeling is ecstasy on steroids and I’m right on the knife’s edge of losing it. I ramp up my pounding thrusts, marveling at her hunger for me. Fuck, she needs it this way.

I watch her beautiful face, lips parted, gorgeous green eyes slightly out of focus. Unreal. Reaching between us, I use my finger to work her clit. She is moving around so much and is so wet that I only need to hold it against her … right there ….

Five seconds later a primal cry sets my neck hairs on end. “Aghhhh! Tigar! Oh, oh God! Don’t stop!”

Her climax is so intense that I struggle to keep up my pace, to drive her harder for both our pleasure. Her perfect little cunt clenches and pulses around me. I increase my speed, vaguely aware of the rough, animalistic growls starting to emerge from my throat. I am blindsided by the power of my orgasm.

“Ugh, fuck, oh fuck, Carew! Oh shit!”

My brain detonates in ecstasy so great that I can’t conceive of how I ever lived without it. She is flawless and everything I’ve ever sought out in a mate.

I suck in large gulps of air, trying to wrap my head around what just happened, struggling to come back to earth after such a beautiful high.

“Oh my God, I never knew it could be like that.” She’s breathless and panting hard, arms still clutching my sweaty, pulsing neck.

I wonder if she even knows that she said the words out loud.

I heave my body off her as gently as possible. I want her to remain close. I flop onto my back amid the pillows, my hand still resting on her tresses. I enjoy sifting through her golden hair. It’s soothing.

“Princeza.”

She turns to look up at me, her jade eyes sparkling from the orgasm.

“Yes?” It comes out in a soft voice.

“Please tell me what you’re doing in my country,” I whisper so as not to frighten her.

Without missing a beat she replies quietly, “I can’t. You’ll hurt me.”

“You really believe that? Even now, as we lie here together?”

“Zoran, I’ve been trained to believe that.”

“Trained? You’re a spy?”

She averts her eyes, ashamed.

“Look at me.” I try to keep my voice level, not wanting her to shut down.

Thankfully she meets my eyes once again. “It’s complicated, not what you think. I can’t talk about it.”

I sigh, more disappointed than frustrated. “Carew, I have the design you stole that night. It was in your purse when I pulled you out of the wreck. I know what you were after. What you were stealing from my boss. The time for playing games is over, baby.”

Her cheeks blaze in anger as she sits up and straightens her gown to cover herself. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! It’s far more complicated than you think, Zoran.”

“Then tell me, why go through of the trouble of breaking in? I want to understand.”

“Why? So you can let your boss and the other guards loose on me? I don’t think so. I’ve told you enough already, Zoran. Now drop this. Please!” There is genuine fear in her voice.

Standing, I move off the bed and head for the shower.

With a long sigh, I stop before stepping in. “All right, my princeza, enough for now. A few guys are coming over for our monthly poker game later. Considering what’s going on, I wanted to cancel it, but can’t. I’m don’t want to draw any unwanted attention by changing plans at the last minute. It starts in just over an hour. I ask that you stay up here. I do not want any of their eyes on you, especially in the limited clothing that you have. Understood?”

Silence. Then she sighs heavily and asks, “What choice do I have?”

“You’re wrong there. Everything in life is a choice.” The horrific events of my past have taught me that lesson all too well. I chose not to defend my parents and as a result, I still have my brother and my own life. But my parents had to suffer. Fucking choices!

She’s agitated as she rises to her knees, clutching a pillow against her breasts. “Don’t think for one second that this is some form of relationship, because we both know it most certainly is not.” She gestures between us. “All of this? Nothing more than a twisted, one-sided mess!”

I shake my head in exasperation and step into the shower. After shoving the handle on, I allow the circular rainforest showerhead to pour down over me.

I wonder if she could ever understand that I never give my affection this freely. I have let her into my world, given her more than any woman before her. I scrub my wet palms over my face, thinking things over. I’m beginning to seriously consider just letting her go.

Holding onto her is like trying to contain a rainbow. Impossible.

Chapter Eleven

A Steady Hand

The afternoon light is beginning to wane. My hunger has been steadily increasing and I wish that I had finished the amazing meal from earlier today. Out of curiosity, I try the latch on one of the windows. To my surprise, it swings right open. Cool air wafts in as I stick my head out to have a look around. The house sits up high on a grass and rock precipice before a gushing waterfall.

What would happen if I jumped into the pool below? It’s not making it into the water that concerns me. The house sits close enough to it that the leap would most likely be a success. It’s what lies beneath the water that scares me. There could be craggy rocks close to the surface that would cut me open or worse, knock me unconscious. Nope, sorry. Not today, death. At that thought, I close the window and puff out a long sigh.

Loud male voices and boisterous laughter float up from downstairs. I just knew that guy played poker! I bet nobody gets the drop on him. His tells would certainly be undetectable.

My body tingles, recalling how he made me so mindless, so sexed-up for him earlier. Hell, I would have let him do just about anything to me during that sensual encounter, my desire for him is so off the charts overpowering.

Zoran … who are you and what have you done with my self-control?

***

I’ve resolved to stay busy, running through some kata movements and a few sets of sit-ups. I need to be on my A-game now more than ever. I strain with effort to complete what should be a routine set of exercises. My body is still weak from the crash and my behind is incredibly tender.

It’s a struggle, but I make it through the last sit-up and haul my body up from the towel and head for the shower. It’s completely dark outside now and their game has been going on for three hours. They are listening to music so loud that there’s no way they will hear the water over it.

I’ve kept adding wood to the fire. The light it throws off combined with the generous track lighting gives the vast room the feeling of a supremely elegant prison. When is he going to come up here? I berate myself for yearning for his company, his strong hands. Oh God, yes, that wicked tongue of his ….

I turn the shower handle and waste no time, allowing my wet fingers to absently glide across my tight nipples, rubbing gently, thinking of the pleasure he elicits from me. My index finger slips between my saturated lips and rubs hard against my clit as I widen my stance.

The hot water is raining down over my body and I recall the raw, animalistic sex from this afternoon. My mind conjures up that sexy tattoo of the tiger, the perfect symbol of his power. How his strong back heaves and flexes as he powers into me. Oh yeah … so fucking close. I rub harder, imagining his sexy, labored breathing against my neck. Almost there ….

I’m just about to fall over the edge when I hear heavy footfalls in the room. Reluctantly, I pull my hand away and reach for the handle, intending to step out and see what he wants. With my arm still extended, I come to a dead stop and let out a scream of absolute terror.

Staring at me, with only a quarter inch of glass separating us, is a giant of a man who looks like a cross between a pitbull and a demon. Not knowing what else to do, I fly back to huddle in the steamy corner, wishing I could just curl up into a ball and disappear.

My wide eyes take in the sight of the terrifying man. The most chilling aspect of him are his nearly black eyes, which are roaming over me like a starved bear that has just woken up from a four month slumber. His face is pitted and wide, his flat features twisted into a sneer.

Holy fuck, Carew, think!

My best bet is to scream for Zoran because there is no way in hell I can take on this giant with my injured wrist. Sizing him up quickly, I note that he has to be nearly as tall as Zoran. Shit!

Sucking in a deep breath, I lift my face and scream for all I’m worth, all the while thinking, Please, please dear God, let him hear me!

I watch those black eyes narrow in anger and I jerk back. Who knew this guy would get even scarier? Before I can scream again, he is inside the shower and on top of me, pinning me against the wall as he begins his assault—groping my breasts, nauseating me with his alcohol-laden, disgusting breath.

It’s beyond revolting! I struggle to twist my head away and let out another scream. I’m cut off by a vicious backhand that leaves my cheek on fire with pain.

“No!” I cry out as loudly as I’m able.

A rough grunt and a few slurred, undeciperable words are his only reply. I writhe in horror as this monster begins to undo his belt and dark pants while holding me by the neck. I struggle to breathe.

Suddenly, so quick that I have trouble tracking the movement, another body is inside of the enclosure. My eyes widen as a massive hand slides quickly between us, clamping down with deadly accuracy on the face of Mr. Gruesome. At the same time, I see a quick forward flash of legs as he’s pulled backwards and off balance.

Zoran ….

They both crash to the pebbled floor with a loud thud and he’s on the guy in a second, pounding savagely into his face. It’s so brutal in its intensity, his blows so dead on and steady that I can only stare in stunned horror. It’s like watching a UFC fight from the center of the cage.

The guy is strong and nearly shoves Zoran off twice, but Zoran’s straddling him and has the dominant position. There is little that the man can do other than lie there and take the beating. He holds up his forearms in a vain attempt to ward off the violent blows.

Zoran stops when the guy stops fighting and simply lies there, moaning, under the spray from the shower that is drenching them both. Vivid red blood drips off Zoran’s hands, swirling around on the light, tiled floor before disappearing down the drain.

Without looking at me Zoran shouts, “Go cover yourself!”

I blink twice before my brain sends the message to move. Then I stagger around the two prone bodies to grab for a towel and wrap it around my trembling body. I want to lock myself away from all this brutality, all this terror. There is nowhere to go. B bounds into the room as I race toward the far side of the bed.

He immediately casts his eyes down. Genuine concern is in his deep voice as he asks, “You all right?”

I reach down to secure my towel and open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. I nod once, shock setting in.

“My brother in there?” He heads toward the bathroom.

I manage a strained, “Yes,” before I climb up and huddle against the headboard, grabbing as many pillows I can get my hands on, as if they can somehow protect me. My lace robe is spread out along the end of the bed. I tentatively reach for it but freeze as Zoran steps out of the enclosure. He’s drenched and a murderous look is etched across his chiseled face. Blood streaks his hands and thick arms, all the way up to his elbows. I watch in horror as he clenches and unclenches his fists.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here! Rewind, rewind!

He makes his way over to the sink as B drags the angry, cursing man through the room. By now the rest of the poker party, five guys total, have come running up the steps to see what all the commotion is about. Eyes track back and forth between me and the battered man.

B starts to haul the injured giant across the bedroom and calls out, “Pomoci mi.” Help me out.

Just as two of the guys step forward to assist him in tossing the guy out, he pulls forward, shrugging out of B’s and another man’s hold and turns around to sneer at me.

I suck in a breath and strangle the pillow against my chest as he continues to glower at me. His voice rough and guttural, he says in English, “Stupid bitch. You will pay.”

Zoran rounds the corner of the shower as the last word leaves his mouth. He reaches Mr. Gruesome in three long strides. A vicious right hook aimed at the Croatian’s mouth has him spraying at least two teeth and a gush of blood across the room. He falls to the floor in an echoing thud.

The quaking shudders start up tenfold, and despite my best efforts I can’t get a grip. If he can do that to a three-hundred-pound abomination, what could he do to me?

Oh God, I have to get the hell out of here. What if he plans to never let me go?

All these conflicting thoughts fly around in my head as I fold my arms across my eyes to block out any additional graphic images in their nightmarish play-by-play.

Their loud voices and heavy footsteps become faint as the room empties out. I crawl under the warm duvet, thankful to be left alone, especially by Zoran. He must know that he scared me out of my mind tonight.

Chapter Twelve

Drowning in Dreams

“That’s right, Carew, try again.”

My finger caresses the trigger while my eye is latched against the rifle’s scope. My target passes before my lens, and I line up the sights …. Yes! Another spot-on hit! It has taken many months of constant practice but I am up to ten shots without one single miss. I hope that my father will notice and be proud. Today my goal is fifteen. It’s invigorating.

A loud, barking voice that I can hear through my earplugs pulls my concentration away.

“Major General Sloan, a word sir?”

There is something off about the voice. It’s overtly arrogant. I lower my rifle and push up from my prone position on my stomach to stand. My father is only seven feet away, his broad back facing me.

“Yes, what is it, soldier?”

I watch the soldier remove his hat. An odd gesture. We are at a civilian firing range and he’s dressed in full camo gear, as if he’s ready for war. He’s young, maybe only twenty-three, with skull-trimmed blond hair and a fresh face. But his onyx eyes are so flat, so dead. A cold chill runs up my spine.

“Dad?” I call to him in a wary voice.

At the same time, the soldier pulls his pistol from his hip and points it right at my father’s chest.

“This should get me some recognition from the fucking military!”

My father makes a quick, valiant attempt to go for the gun but the shot has been fired, nailing him directly in the chest. I struggle to catch him in his backward fall.

I gasp as another single shot rings out and armed people race to our aid. The man unloaded on the side of his own head.

As my father lies sprawled across my lap, blood spewing from the wound in his chest. I scream frantically, “Daddy, nooo! Someone, anyone help us!”

The words are still on my lips as a hand passes over my forehead. My arms fly up to push it away, convinced that it is a threat. My eyes spring open to see Zoran staring at me, a look of shock on his face.

I gasp and try to lurch backward out of his arms but he holds fast, speaking to me in a soothing voice. “Shhh, princeza, it’s okay, nobody will hurt you. Did you dream about what happened tonight?”

Still trying to shake the tragic memory, I say, “No, it wasn’t about that guy. The stress may have triggered it, though; it usually does. I’ve had that dream hundreds of times before. It’s about my father.” I try to calm my breathing and continue. “He was shot by a disgruntled ex-Marine. It happened right in front of me. I should have done something to stop it. I mean, I had a rifle right in front of me!”

Tears spill down my cheeks. He looks concerned but continues to hold me as he lightly stroking my hair.

“You’re all right now. Don’t worry.”

Thankfully he avoids any additional questions and we sit propped against the soft pillows. The fire casts low light across the darkened space.

After several minutes he surprises me by whispering, “Both my parents and my immediate family were murdered by soldiers as well. It happened during the Croatian War of Independence. The Kosovo Liberation Army, they were called. They wanted our home and property. I wish I could go back to that day with the knowledge that I have now. Things would be very different.”

I take in his confession and finally reply, “I’m very sorry. That’s horrific.”

His arms tighten around me from behind. I watch him stare across the room at the dancing flames for a long moment before he continues in a pained voice,“B and I escaped and eventually joined the Croatian military to get our land back. Took us four years but it eventually happened. Had it not, we would have died trying.”

“So you were both soldiers?”

“Yes. First it was just me because B was too young. He stayed with a distant relative until he turned sixteen and then joined the fight. I stayed in and B got out two years after we reclaimed our home. He went on to college and teaches English at a nearby school. That’s where he met his girlfriend, Georgina. You’ll meet her tomorrow.”

“Are you planning on releasing me tomorrow?”

“That’s not what I said.”

I look away from him, out the window at the white half-moon. “Will you ever?”

With both arms around me, he turns me gently in his arms and pulls me beneath his hot body. I should fight him but my need betrays me as desire washes over me. His full lips meld against mine, erasing all but pleasurable thoughts.

He is like a beautiful force that I am helpless to deny. I feel a hand at my stomach as he unfastens the delicate bow of my lace robe, spreading the fabric apart before he draws it off, pulling it out gently from beneath me to toss it at the bottom of the bed. Without the barrier, I feel his smooth nakedness and moan as he begins to grind his hips between my legs. I spread them far apart, aching from deep within my core. I want this … him. I need him to fuck me, brand me as his.

I pull my mouth away and plead, “Tigar.”

“Shhh, just feel me on you.”

I smooth my hands across his wide shoulders and down his back. A rough sound of male approval escapes before he slowly lowers his head between my spread legs. I throw my head back at the first swipe of that skillful tongue, so wet and forceful. I won’t last long.

He laps hungrily at my core, through my slick pussy lips, and over my sensitive clit. Over and over until I writhe beneath him in mindless pleasure.

“Yes, oh yes! Please, please don’t stop!”

Two thick fingers fill me as he begins a relentless, pumping motion. That wicked tongue stays on my clit, licking in a frenzy. I spread wider, wanting, needing everything that he offers. I feel my channel tighten around his fingers just before everything shatters apart into a prism of vibrant colors and warm heat so intense it rips a scream from my throat.

“Tigar! Oh, my God! Ahh!”

I writhe as the orgasm flutters continuously, spurred on by his hungry determination, so fierce that I’m left breathless.

I pant, blissed out beyond measure. “Thank you.”

He climbs back up to hover over me and whispers in a silky voice, “My pleasure. Now, no more bad dreams tonight, princeza, okay?”

“Yes, okay, Tigar.”

His liquid clear eyes light up as he places a soft kiss on my lips before he twists to fall onto the mattress beside me.

Without overthinking it, I sit up, pull the white cover away, and kneel between his thick legs.

He knows what I’m up to because a low male purr cuts through the air. I grin and let my hair fall across his ripped stomach as I open wide to take him between my parted lips. Hot, silky flesh welcomes me. I take his shaft in slow pulses at first, letting my mouth stretch to accommodate his girth. He tastes so perfect and clean—a bit like fresh pine blended with mint. I encircle the base of his shaft with my right hand and hold fast as I begin to suck his cock with all the fervor and passion he has just given to me.

He must like what I’m doing because his huge hands thread through my hair and are trembling lightly. Desperate moans escape him. I amp up the rhythm, intent on driving him wild.

Balancing on my knees, I reach my left hand under to lightly stroke his sack with the soft tips of my fingers. With my cast, that is the best I can manage, but I feel him jerk as his balls tighten up. He’s close … his body is as taut as an iron bar. I remove my left hand and take him deep, touching the back of my throat with the head until my eyes water. I want this to be so very good for him.

On my third deep stroke down onto his straining cock, his hands grip my head and he arches up into me.

“Ungh!” His guttural moan bounces off the walls. “Carew!” I feel his hot cum flood my mouth as I try my best to swallow all that he offers.

His hold loosens and he brushes my left cheek with the back of his fingers. I sit up, suddenly feeling shy.

Before I can move away, he pulls me forward with a light tug on a length my hair. I fall onto his bare chest and feel the thundering of his strong heart beneath me.

“Thank you, princeza. That was a first for me.”

My eyes widen and I look at him in disbelief. “You’re messing with me, right?”

Please let it be true.

Dark brows draw together. “Why would I mess with you? That was a first. No woman has ever given me oral sex before. What you did was amazing.”

He’s completely serious. “I don’t understand. How old are you?”

“Thirty-seven. And it was my choice.” He begins a halting explanation, as if embarrassed, “I’ve always paid whores for sex. I used condoms. I never wanted their well-used mouths on me.”

“Oh. Oh my, well, that’s interesting.” I’m at a loss.

“Enough talk.” He slides me to the side and spoons against my bare back. “Rest up. Tomorrow we’re off on an adventure.”

An adventure? As if I’m not already on the ultimate one?

I close my eyes and do my best to relax in the safety of his warm arms.

Chapter Thirteen

Hunted

I’m rinsing my hair in the shower when he opens the glass door.

“Georgina brought over a set of proper clothes for you to wear. I placed them on the bed. We are heading out in half an hour. Can you be ready?”

“Sure. Where are we going?”

He grins mischievously and says, “You’ll see.” And then he’s gone.

I towel off and make my way to the neat stack of clothing placed on the now made bed. A black mug of steaming tea rests on the bedside table. What is he up to?

I slip on the slinky, black silk panties that go with my new gown and the pale gray socks resting on the top of the neat stack. Next is a pair of dark blue, snug skinny jeans. They are a few inches too short, hitting me above my ankles, but they work. A soft black sweater is at the bottom of the stack. It is fitted and has a ‘v’ neckline. I slide it on and work the length of my hair out of the neckline.

Beside the bed, I see a pair of knee-high black leather boots. They are flat with the exception of a light tread on the underside. I pull them on and I’m pleased to see that they’re only half a size too big and quite supple and comfortable. It’s a relief to be wearing practical clothing, even if it belongs to somebody else. I’ll have to thank this Georgina.

It has been days since I have worn anything but couture lingerie, which really isn’t a bad thing, but still ….

Standing in front of the sink, I run the towel over my hair once again, hoping to get it fairly dry before I work on the length with his brush. I watch myself in the mirror. My eyes are bright, the fatigue and stress long gone. I stare curiously at my reflection. I look happy, sated, cheeks tinged with a natural pink color. Is this from all the electrifying sex? Must be. Whatever it is, I can’t recall the last time I looked so alive. I shake my head and cross the room to retrieve the tea. Taking a long sip, I enjoy the bergamot flavor swirling within the smooth, black liquid.

I carry the mug with me while making my way downstairs to the kitchen. Stepping into the foyer, I hear a distinctly feminine voice chatting away. I slow my steps into the living room before hitting the kitchen. It’s feels strange to meet a woman whose clothes I’m wearing. Here it goes.

She’s beautiful. Straight, dark chestnut-brown hair hangs halfway down her back. Her frame is very petite, and she’s certainly no taller than five-foot-five. Emerald-green eyes meet mine and full pink lips curl into a smile. She says in a fluid accent, “This must be Carew. Hi there, I’m Georgina.”

She steps forward to give me a light, friendly hug. Her hair smells like a field of peony flowers.

“Hello, nice to meet you, Georgina. Thank you for the clothes. I, ah, appreciate it greatly.”

Her laughter rings throughout the house. “I bet. I hear Tigar is hosting you here in his house for a while then?”

I flit my gaze to Zoran as he rakes his eyes up and down my body in undisguised male approval. I tighten my lips and manage to grind out, “I suppose you could put it that way.”

B struggles not to choke on his tea, a strangled laugh erupting.

So nice to know they find my captivity humorous!

“Let’s get going,” Zoran says before he takes a final swig of his tea and rinses out the mug in his steel sink. He catches my hand in mid-stride and I walk with him to the front door.

B asks, “We riding together?”

“Yep. Carew’s up front with me.”

After he disarms the alarm, we step out into the spring sunshine. It has to be in the mid-sixties, I think. The weather is gorgeous. I breathe in the clean, fresh air. A flash of movement has me clinging to Zoran. The dogs.

He laughs as all three bound up to him. They jump about between B and him, hoping one of them will play with them. They are a lot less intimidating when they are not snarling. Wanting my limbs intact, I keep my hands to myself and match Zoran’s stride to the military grade, gigantic black Hummer.

He opens the door for me and I reach in with my good hand to grab hold of the leather handle that runs parallel across the metal glove box. He circles my waist with his hands and lifts me up into the vehicle. Once seated, I look around. He certainly has tricked out this truck! Immaculate black leather is everywhere and all the gauges are surrounded with carbon fiber detailing.

B helps Georgina into the back, and as I belt up, the massive engine of the cool truck roars to life.

I look over at him. “What year is this?

He watches the rearview mirror as we reverse. “Two thousand four. The final year that they were made for civilian use. I was way into the military ones that I used to drive, liked all the space. I picked this one up as soon as it came on the market. You like it?”

“Yes, it’s really cool. I never would have guessed that it is ten years old.”

“I had the interior re-done recently.”

B snickers. “Yeah, Tigar has always been a pain in the ass about what he likes. Always has to have it on site, no questions asked.”

Georgina giggles and Zoran pins him with a look in the mirror as he switches into drive and we crawl forward down the dirt road.

Georgina leans forward. “Since you’re the only one in the car who hasn’t been to our destination today, we are keeping it a secret until we get there. But don’t worry, we are only about fifteen minutes away. B told me you were recently in a car accident. Is your wrist all right?”

“I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask the big guy that question.” He ignores my pointed look. “So … Zoran mentioned that you both teach?”

B laughs. “Yeah, I saw her playing kickball on the playground amid a sea of seven-year-olds and thought, ‘Now that is the woman for me!’”

I turn and watch Georgina laugh and kiss his cheek. “Yes, we both enjoy teaching.”

“What is your subject, Georgina?”

“I teach Priroda i Drustvo, which means Nature and Society. It is wonderful. You should see their little faces light up when we go out on hikes and collect things. They’re interested in anything and everything at this young age.”

I laugh, but then she asks, “And what about you, Carew? What do you do back in America?”

I bite my lower lip and glance at Zoran. His eyes are on the road ahead but his grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“I’m a cryptographer.”

There’s silence for a second and she asks B in her native tongue, “What’s that?”

He answers her in English, “Not sure. Carew?”

I suck in a breath. “It’s coding. Computers mostly.” Best to keep it short.

Zoran looks at me, his expression unreadable. I glance away.

“Where did you study?” Georgina asks with genuine interest.

“I received my undergraduate degree from MIT.”

She nods. “I haven’t heard of it. So you are intrigued by numbers and computers then?”

“You can say that, yes.”

I wish we could talk about anything other than this …. Arctic climate change and the polar bear crisis anyone?

I try to change the subject. “So how long have you two been an adorable item?”

I watch as B throws a long arm around Georgina’s delicate shoulders, pulling her into a hug.

She smiles and answers, “Three years now. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. Carew, as you’ll soon come to see, these Vranic men can be very … how do you say? Persuasive, yes, that’s it. I miss speaking English, Balthazar; it’s such a fun language! It reminds me of being at the movies!”

He says something to her in Croatian that I don’t catch and kisses her lips. I avert my eyes to give them privacy. After fiddling with the cuff on my sweater, making sure it is off my cast, I sneak a look at Zoran. His is so completely stunning in the daylight.

Light filters down through the majestic trees, entering the wide windshield. Those eyes, so watchful and beautiful …. This man misses nothing. As I drink him in, admiring the way his charcoal gray sweater clings to his magnificent body, he turns to me. What I see in his eyes unnerves me. It’s a look that, if I’m not mistaken, expresses sincere adoration.

My lips part and we drink each other in before he focuses once again on the road. When I get out of here, I hope my memories of him will be vivid.

Whoa, where in the hell did that come from?

“We’re nearly there, Carew!” Georgina calls out from the back. “It’s still early in the year so hopefully it will be relatively quiet.”

I ponder where we could be headed as Zoran rolls the truck to a stop at a small A-frame guard house. The two armed guards are clearly more interested in Zoran’s wicked black Hummer than what we are doing here. After letting them look their fill, Zoran clears his throat and speaks in his native tongue, asking for four entrance passes.

The shorter of the two guards gives him some kind of total and he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a slim, black leather wallet. After paying in cash, he is handed the tickets along with a brochure or map of some sort. Everything is quickly passed over to me. The glossy brochure has the image of a massive waterfall on the front. It reads “Plitvice National Lakes Park.”

“Are you excited, Carew? This park is so beautiful! There are many, many waterfalls here. I adore hiking this area with B. It’s so romantic.”

Thankfully Zoran pulls into a spot before I have to answer that one. We all hop out. Zoran comes around to my side to help me down, clearly taking care to watch out for my arm.

“Are we hiking together, Tigar, or do you want some more alone time with Carew?” The jesting tone in B’s voice is unmistakable.

Zoran replies in a flat, dismissive voice, Refusing to take the bait, “We’ll meet you back here at two o’clock. We can grab a late lunch at the pub in town.”

“Whatever you say, big brother. Georgina and I are headed up the northern trail. Your loss!”

Zoran shakes his head as B tosses tiny Georgina over his shoulder and races off. She is laughing, her glossy long hair streaming down against the legs of his jeans. I watch them disappear up a narrow path. They are clearly in love. It’s so sweet. I wish we were sticking together on this little nature hike of ours.

“Come, Carew.” The heat in his voice makes my nipples tighten beneath the softness of the fitted sweater.

He reachs out to me, and I slip my hand into his rough, callused palm. Lately I have found myself longing for his closeness. Not just the explosive pleasure we experience together, but him. What is happening to me? From our first encounter he has done more to stir the fires within me than I ever dreamed possible.

As we enter a wooded trail he looks down at me. “There is something I want to show you. Are you up for a morning hike?”

I lift an eyebrow. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

He smiles and holds my hand in his warmth. “Come on.”

It’s one thing to drive through this vast forest; however, walking through this paradise is even more awe-inspiring. The intense shades of green along with the diffused sunlight falling onto the small dirt path before us transports me to a very happy place. The rush of water is all around, so omnipresent that it is impossible to pin down any one source. Now this is a perfect day for a hike ….

“You know, princeza, Kreshmir was never like that … before,” he says in a serious, sad voice.

“Who?”

“The man who attacked you. His name is Kreshmir. We have known each other since we were small boys. He was a happy kid, always laughing, joking. You know the sort. Anyhow, his family was also wiped out by the invading army. We entered the military about the same time.

“I don’t know how much you know about war, Carew, but the violence changes men. It did this to Kreshmir. He seeks it out like a drug, needs it to survive, I suppose. He really should never touch alcohol. I believe it makes it worse for him. He’s going to be hurting badly this morning.”

“Yeah, well, he sort of deserved it. I mean, the guy was well on his way to raping me!”

He stops us and holds me by the arms as he stares down into my eyes. “That never would have happened, Carew. I would never let that happen to you. I went out to feed the dogs when he snuck upstairs. I’m sorry that you were frightened, but I’ll always protect you. You know that, right?”

I sigh. “Zoran, I might actually be able to believe what you’re saying if you weren’t holding me against my will. You need to set me free.” I break his gaze and stare up at the canopy of leaves shielding us from the sky.

“Okay, princeza, I can’t fight you forever. You want your freedom? Then you’ll have to earn it.”

“Earn it?” I whisper, pushing the words out past my lips.

“Up for a challenge?”

I straighten and step back from his hold. “What are you offering?”

“Your total freedom. That is, if you’re fast enough.”

“Details, please.”

“I’m a sporting guy and I’m willing to give you a full five minute head start anywhere into the forest. If I’m unable to locate you within thirty minutes from the time I come after you, then you are free.”

My freedom? Unreal!

“And if you manage to catch me?”

A dark, feral smile passes over his perfect lips. “Well, let’s just say that I have something quite specific in mind as my reward, princeza.”

My libido seriously hopes that it involves animalistic sex deep in the woods.

With effort, I shove the spine-tingling thought aside and purr confidently up to him, “Keep dreaming and take a good look, Tigar, because this is the last time you will ever see my face.”

With a smug look, he crosses his arms and looks down to check his watch before saying, “We’ll see about that. Ready?”

“Hell yes.”

I take one last look at him. Damn, he’s so beautiful ….

“Go!”

I take off like a shot in the dark, my arms pumping furiously. I run headlong up the trail as if my life depended on it.

In every way, it does.

***

I watch her silky hair fly out behind her as she sprints away from me and up the narrow trail. A rare, full smile forms on my lips as I plant my feet and wait. I saw the excitement in her eyes and noticed how her breathing changed—becoming rapid and shallow—when I suggested the challenge. She wants me to hunt her down more than she wants her freedom. As much as she denies her needs, I’m beginning to understand how her mind works.

I stand, quiet and still, on the forest floor, planning my strategy. She has three more minutes and then she will be caught. And when she is …. My already hard cock strains against my jeans to the point where I have to reach a hand in and readjust it up against the waistband of my boxer briefs.

Oh, yeah, I’m going to have fun with my beautiful princeza this morning.

She’ll enjoy what I’m going to do to her, because she craves the chase just as much as I do. I look around, taking in the beauty of the lush forest. Time check. Ten more seconds ….

I call out into the forest, even knowing that she can’t hear me, “Time’s up, baby.”

Taking off into a fast jog, I follow her path. If I timed it right, then I know where I’ll catch up with her. She’s exactly where I want her, in an area that’s secluded and scenic—perfect for taking her down and showing her who’s really in charge. My pace quickens at the thought.

Crossing over the long, narrow bridge that spans one of the azure-colored lakes, I wonder what’s going on in her mind. I’m confident that I’ll find her in time. I’m not ready to let her go, but I would reluctantly keep my word if she wins our wager.

Once I’m on the other side, I come to a halt and listen intently. I wouldn’t put it past her to hide in order to avoid capture. Cocking my head, I remain quiet. I hear nothing but falling water and singing birds so I continue onward, climbing the steep incline that lies ahead.

Anticipation gives me a surge of adrenaline as I make my way higher at a quick, efficient pace. She’s like a fucking dream … so damn sweet. I wish I could keep her forever. She’s the one, I know it. Fuck, I’ve never felt anything like this before, never let anyone get this close. The thought of letting her go anytime soon sends a shot of pain through my chest.

I pick up my pace. Even though the air is cool, a sheen of sweat breaks out across my brow. Nearly to the top …. The rush of water echoes from the highest waterfall in Plitvice. She’s up there. Trapped. The only way out is directly in my path. I want her and I play to win.

I slow my stride as I crest the top of the tall, tree-covered hill. My eyes narrow when I don’t see her immediately. Where are you, Carew? She’s either hiding or she decided to jump. I know that she doesn’t have a death wish. No, she loves life far too much.

I call out loudly, “All right, princeza, you wanna play? Cat and mouse it is then, but be warned, you’re about to be devoured.”

I stalk straight toward a dense grove of large trees. Some are wide enough for a body to hide behind, especially a lithe, sexy little body like hers. Oh yeah ….

A gust of wind sweeps across the top of the hill. Right there. A few locks of her long, pale hair are blowing outward from her hiding spot. Gotcha, baby.

I approach the tree as stealthily as possible, fully aware that she has no idea her hair is giving her away. Nearly there ….

Leaves crunch under my leather boots and at the same moment I hear her cry out, knowing that she’s been spotted. Immediately she takes off, running hell-bent into the forest. A growl emerges from my throat as I sprint hard after her. I get close and reach out for her shoulder, trying to get her to slow for me, taking care not to hurt her. She surprises me by ducking to her left in an abrupt change of direction.

I sprint harder, circle wide to her left and leap across a felled tree, landing right in her path. She’s running so frantically that she’s unable to stop. She runs smack into my chest but still doesn’t give up. She turns to flee, but this time she’s off balance and falls back onto her ass. Perfect.

“I do like catching you, Carew. Are you ready for my reward, baby?”

A small cry of feminine alarm erupts from her plump lips. She struggles to get away from me but her injured wrist makes it impossible for her to retreat on all fours.

“Get onto your knees, ass in the air, and put your forearms out above your head.”

She stares up at me in disbelief. “But … but … you tricked me!”

I arch a brow. “How so?”

“You know this place. You must have known that you were sending me directly into a trap!”

“You chose which direction to run, baby, now pay up. On. Your. Knees.”

Her eyes sparkle with lust and her lips part at my command. With a huff of protest, she turns over, lifts up her perfect, jean-clad ass for me, and stretches out, resting on her forearms in the tall green grass.

Gazing down at her, I realize I have just won the fucking lottery. She is a dream-creature. I can’t wait to fuck her senseless.

Kneeling down behind her, I lift her black sweater just high enough that her creamy tits dangle down for my wicked use. Fondling them simultaneously, I knead the twin weights thoroughly until she arches back toward me, a small, feminine moan escaping her lips.

“Relax, baby, I’ll give you just what you need.”

She whimpers once as I reach under her to unfasten the button on those sinfully tight jeans. Fuck me! And here I thought she looked hot in lingerie …. This woman looks stunning in anything.

Straining for patience, I draw the skintight jeans and panties over her smooth ass and down to her knees. She begins to shift impatiently.

“No. Stay put.” I purposefully add an edge to my voice. She stills immediately.

With the jeans trapping her knees, I use the outside of my legs to spread her wider, positioning her just so. I lean back onto my knees, palms spread out on the top of my thighs and inspect my prize. So fucking hot.

I watch her closely as I take off my belt and unbutton my jeans. I reach in and wrap my palm around my broad cock, drawing it out of my black underwear.

She flips her hair away and turns to watch me with those lusty green eyes. So beautiful. She’s more dazzling than sunshine and I can’t wait to be buried so deep within her that she won’t know where she ends and I begin.

Reaching down, I slowly swipe one finger across her creaming slit. Perfectly drenched. I smile as she pushes her ass up a fraction. So ready for more. I’ll give her everything.

I keep up the back and forth glide with my finger, knowing full well how it drives her wild, before bringing it up to my lips for a taste. I suck on my finger, saturating it before I bring it back between her legs to concentrate on that pretty little clit of hers. After I have circled it several times, she begins to cry out and rake her hands through the grass.

“Stop toying with me, Zoran!” she cries, her voice straining with need.

With a smile, I ask, “Who?”

“Tigar! Fuck me hard, Tigar! Is that what you want? I’ll scream out your name, just make me come! This is just cruel. You’re driving my insane!”

I can’t help but chuckle as I put my finger back in my mouth to get it nice and wet. Holding one hand steady on her left hip, I work my way into her sweet ass with my slicked up index finger. Fuck, my cock is straining so hard, aching to grind into her sweet body.

“Ungh, oh, oh!”

Once I have my finger inside her fist-tight back channel, I release her hip and allow her to rock back and forth, fucking her ass with my finger at her own pace. She moans wildly as my thick finger pumps in and out of her little backside. God! It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. I have to take her now. I’ll come all over her back if I wait any longer.

I remove my digit and she protests with a frustrated whine.

Grasping the thick base of my rigid cock, I glance down at the pearls of pre-cum. I am more than ready for her.

“Brace for it, princeza.”

Without another word, I feed my thick cock into her soaked pussy. I work her hard, pushing eagerly, knowing that she can stretch to take all of me. I begin to thrust, setting a pounding rhythm that is in sync with my galloping heartbeat. I slap her rounded ass twice as she continues to cry out in mindless pleasure.

Time to ignite you, baby.

Reaching between her spread legs, I swipe hard against her engorged clit. On the second pass she screams out in a primal cry, sucking in little gasps of air as her slick sex milks me for everything I have. Too perfect, unreal!

Gripping both her hips, I begin to hammer into her. My hips slap loudly against her exposed ass. On the fourth stroke, I ram myself full length into her drenched slit and pour my orgasm into her. My roar of pleasure rings triumphantly through the trees.

***

My IQ has taken a nosedive. I can only lie here with my cheek pressed against the soft grass and feel. He’s still buried deep within me and I can hear him breathing like a racehorse after a hard sprint. In a word, amazing.

When I’m able to think clearly again, I push up on my good arm and look back at him. “Zoran.”

He smiles a lazy, contented smile. “Carew.”

Just then something significant passes between us. I blink and look away into the trees. He gently pulls out of me and assists me in standing up before pulling down my sweater and helping me with my jeans. I am still too unsteady to dress myself.

I look down at his impressive shaft, still slick with our fluid and mostly hard. I can’t believe that he fits inside me, but he is so fine that I want him again instantly. He tucks himself back into his black boxer briefs and jeans before taking my hand and pulling me into his strong embrace.

His chin dips low to rest on top of my head and he speaks, his deeply accented voice floating down to me. “I’m on a two-week vacation from work, Carew. In ten days, when it is over, I will drive you to the airport in Zagreb and send you home. It is the least I can do after what you have endured, but I wanted these days with you. Understood?”

I remain quiet for a minute, absorbing his surprising offer.

I say quietly, “Zoran, I’m beginning to have feelings for you. I think that you should release me now. It will be much harder if we wait. Please.”

He steps back and levels me with those magnetic eyes before dipping low to gently kiss my lips. Right against my mouth, he says, “No. This is not negotiable, princeza. Come now.”

I sigh heavily as my mind whirls at the thought of my upcoming freedom. Relief washes over me, knowing that he is letting me go back to my life, that he is releasing me. We walk back to the clearing at the top of the hill. Crossing over to the edge, we both lean over to take in the sight of the magnificent waterfall. When he was after me I only saw it as a barrier, a trap. Now I watch the swirls of white spray and mist with tranquil ease.

“There are many waterfalls here. Over twenty, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It’s breathtaking. How large is the park?”

“Over two hundred and fifty thousand acres.”

“That is so impressive. I could spend all day in this very spot. It’s so peaceful.”

“Yes. Come, there is plenty more to see before we meet B and Georgina back at the truck. We’ll be more than ready to eat a late lunch after that vigorous workout, eh?”

“Right,” I say, suppressing a laugh. We take our time meandering through the lush park.

We are making our way back to the bridge when he asks, “What is your last name?”

“Sloan, and yours is Vranic?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

I mull the pretty name over in my mind and say it again. “Vranic. That’s lovely.”

His hand runs across my back. “Thank you. Where do you live in America?”

“Atlanta, in the South.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of it. Atlanta Braves baseball?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, spot on. But how would you know about baseball?”

“Did you have a look at the size of my TV, woman?”

“I did, and?”

“And, I have just about every sports channel offered on the planet.”

I shake my head in amusement.

Stopping midway across the scenic, narrow bridge, I pull him close, wrapping my arms around his waist and ask, “Why didn’t you kill me after the crash?”

Staring out at the clear azure water, he is silent for a long while before confessing, “I’ve never killed someone who didn’t deserve it, Carew. And I’ve certainly never killed a woman or a child.”

“But I took proprietary information from your boss. And I fled from you after you warned me, repeatedly.”

“I’m fully aware of what you did. What I still don’t know is why.” He turns me in his arms to confront me. “Tell me why you took what you did from Juric.”

I sigh and look away. “I suppose it’s time. I’m employed by an American company that specializes in acquiring cyber intel. I won’t tell you the name of the company or our client, so please don’t ask. There is a prominent electronics designer who was convinced that Juric had stolen his design for a specialized engineering program. He paid us a boatload of money to see if it was true. From what I saw that night, Juric’s design is a standalone. Our client was mistaken. Wherever he got the tip … well, let’s say it cost him. On the bright side, his design is safe and so is Juric’s.”

He pulls me against his chest, so warm and comforting. His scent works like an aphrodisiac as I breathe deeply, no longer afraid.

“Thank you. Thank you for finally telling me the truth, princeza.”

He kisses the top of my hair and whispers, “Obozavam te.”

I lean back and look into his face. I ask, “What does that mean?”

He trails a lone finger down and across my left cheek before answering, “It means I adore you.”

I wrap my arms around his wide torso and snuggle into the softness of his sweater. In a barely audible whisper, I say, “Likewise, Tigar, and thank you for not killing me that night.”

“Da, princeza.”

Chapter Fourteen

Freefall

The nearby town of Slunj is set directly on the edge of one of the rushing waterfalls. When we first drove in thirty minutes ago I felt like we had been transported into a romantic, medieval world. All the structures in the small village are made of white stones with red, sloped terracotta rooftops. We passed by a stunning water wheel that must have been close to forty feet in height. The proud structure has no doubt withstood countless centuries of rotation.

We’ve just ordered lunch. Well, my order was placed for me because I had little idea what I was reading on the menu. Zoran and Georgina told me that they would ‘surprise me.’ If the late lunch proves to be half as fresh and tasty as the tall pints of draft beer sitting on our table, then I’m so loving life.

Georgina cocks her head and asks across the wooden plank table, “So, Carew, how long will you be staying in Croatia?”

“At least another week, I believe.”

Zoran’s warm, weighty palm lands on my hip, pulling me closer to his side.

“Well then, B and I will have to have you over to our apartment for dinner. Zoran, you let us know what night works best.”

He takes a healthy swig from his pint glass and sets it down. “Yeah, okay, Georgina. That sounds good.”

“Thank you, I’d like that as well. I’ll make an American dessert to bring along. You’ll take me to a grocery store, right, Zoran?”

“Yes, of course.”

Georgina claps her hands in glee. “Yum! An American style dessert, excellent!”

B chimes in, “Yeah, you better make double, blondie, because my brother can really pack it away. He is a total pig!”

We all laugh and order our third round of beers just as the succulent food is brought out of the local pub’s tiny kitchen and laid out, family style, on the plank table.

Zoran lifts my plate and begins serving me first, explaining as he goes. “Okay, Carew, this is Pasticada, very delicious. It’s a stewed beef that is marinated with lemon, rosemary, and carrots. Next up is the parmesan gnocchi, which we traditionally serve with Pasticada.”

The aromatic plate is set before me as my stomach rumbles in anticipation. He reaches for my colorful painted bowl and fills it with a red soup that smells of paprika and is swimming with veggies.

“You’ve most likely heard of goulash, right?”

“Yes, but I’ve never tried it.”

B says, “The goulash here is amazing!” He serves Georgina, and I watch both men, thinking how much they favor each other in both looks and demeanor.

B raises his full glass to give the third toast of the afternoon. “To love and family, zivjeli!”

We tip our glasses and begin to savor the hearty meal.

“Are you enjoying everything?” The deep voice rumbling close to my ear has me flashing back to our steamy afternoon encounter.

I flush and pat my lips with the napkin. “Yes, it’s superb. Thank you. And you?” I take note of the empty plate—his second helping.

“Very good, yes.”

He reaches beneath the table to gently squeeze my hand. A sweetly romantic gesture.

“What was that funny movie that you wanted to download tonight, Georgina?”

Before she can respond to B’s question, a mobile goes off. Zoran frowns as he slips his ringing phone from his front jeans pocket.

He looks at the screen and takes the call. “Da?” Yes?

He is silent for a moment as he grips the phone tighter. “Salite.” You’re kidding.

He tells the person on the other end that he will be there in two hours.

As he hangs up his mood has changed. He’s cold as ice, nearly arctic.

He addresses his brother but thankfully speaks in English. “Juric phoned. Two of my guards failed to show up for their afternoon shift that began over an hour ago. Nobody can reach them. I must go to Zagreb and investigate. Let’s settle up here.”

B lifts his hand for the waitress to bring the tab as Zoran reaches into his wallet for cash. We are in the truck and moving in under three minutes.

Georgina tries to defuse the tension. “Hey Carew, you can come stay with us. How does that sound?”

Zoran cuts in, “I would prefer if B were to keep an eye on the house until I arrive back, hopefully late tonight. Carew will stay there.”

B’s normally jovial, relaxed demeanor is suddenly tight and serious as he responds swiftly, “Yeah, no worries, bro.”

***

Our drive back takes half the time. Obviously the lazy scenic tour is over. The silence inside the vehicle is deafening. The tension rolling off Zoran is so thick it’s nearly suffocating.

As we pull into the long drive B talks softly in English to Georgina, “Come inside, baby, we’ll see if we can find that movie. He has every satellite channel imaginable.”

“Not tonight, my love. I promised my grandfather I’d drop by to have tea late this afternoon, and I have to finish preparing for school tomorrow. I will see you later this evening or in the morning, all right?”

I try not to look as he helps her down from the truck and pulls her into a passionate embrace, dipping low to kiss her delicate lips. Zoran is already out of the truck, making a beeline to the front door, and calling out to the dogs along the way. “Dole!” Down.

It’s obvious that he takes his business very seriously, but something feels off. Why would two of his lead guards simply not show? I wonder if there is something he’s failed to tell me.

I wave goodbye to Georgina as she makes her way down the drive in her dark blue Jeep. She throws a hand out the open window and disappears into the trees at the end of the road.

“C’mon, blondie, don’t want to waste a good sofa. Let’s chill out and watch bad horror films together, cool? I hope that big bastard still has beer left over from the poker game. Man, the guys still talk about that fight. You must be missing brain cells or have a death wish to fuck with Tigar. You know he was a top heavyweight boxer, right?”

“I knew he boxed but I wasn’t aware of the details.”

We step into the warmth of the foyer. Zoran is nowhere to be seen. I follow B into the living room as he kicks off his black and turquoise Adidas Samoas.

“Yeah, he was on his way to turn pro, trained all through the military, boxed when he got out. He gave it up to focus on his security business. He couldn’t give his undivided attention to both so he had to choose. Works too damn much, if you ask me. The crime in Zagreb is climbing so he’s in demand, but only the ones willing to pay the most get his services. He’s been with this jackass businessman Juric for over a year now. Man, the things I hear from Tigar about that guy and his pussy—oops, I mean ladies. Wild shit.”

He shakes his head and flops down on the couch, leaving a large space at the end. “Here, have a seat. I’ll even be a gentleman and let you pick the film.”

“Fair enough.” I slide off Georgina’s boots and take the remote from him as Zoran enters the room. He’s dressed in a black suit and a white shirt, looking much like the night I met him, except today his tie is scarlet red.

Focusing intently on his brother, he speaks quickly and curtly in Croatian. I understand that he is telling him he’s not sure how long he will be gone and that he’ll call his mobile. The rest I can’t make out because he’s speaking low and quickly. My shoulders tense as he opens his suit jacket, pulls out a Sig Sauer P226 pistol, and hands it over to B, handle first.

B takes it, double-checks the safety, and shoves it into the back of his waistband, telling Zoran in English, “We’ll be fine.”

Zoran turns to leave but stops to swivel his head, looking right at me. A torrent of emotion passes between us in the span of several seconds. I’m about to tell him to be careful but he strides out of the room before the words can leave my lips.

I think hard, trying to connect the dots because something is gnawing at my gut. I feel helpless because for the life of me I can’t place it. I do know this: what’s coming isn’t good.

***

We’ve made it halfway through the horror film, The Descent, when I decide to head upstairs to get some rest. It’s only seven forty-five, but it’s already dark outside. I’m worried for Zoran and hope that a shower will relieve some tension.

“B, if you get too scared just shout up to me, ’kay?”

He puffs out an exasperated breath and takes a swig from his Croatian bottled beer. “You forget that I’m the one with the loaded Sig, blondie. I protect you from the boogeyman, not the other way around. Go on up and relax. Today was quite an adventure.”

“Yes, I really loved seeing Plitvice and meeting Georgina. She is an amazing lady.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

“All right, B, ’night.”

“ ’Night, blondie. And don’t worry about anything. Tigar can handle himself.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

I walk slowly up the stairs to find that a warm fire is in full force. He must have started it before he left. The house feels strangely empty without him here. I’m tired and decide to skip the shower, instead opting to slip into the red silk short slip. It is unbelievably sexy and I smile at the thought of him slipping in bed later tonight to find this little kinky surprise. The eight-inch slit in the side of the slip ends just an inch below my red silk-clad sex. Talk about full access. He is going to love this one.

I snuggle up in the sumptuous white sheets and fall asleep while thinking of our earlier tryst in the forest.

I jerk awake to shouting. Sitting up, I struggle to make out the words. It’s B. He’s coming up the stairs and yelling to me.

“Carew! Wake the fuck up! Someone’s here. You need to hide, like fucking now! I’m thinking maybe it’s Kreshmir, back for round two or some fucking bullshit!”

I scramble out of bed, my head swirling with his words and the wild barking coming from the dogs outside.

His gun is drawn, pointed straight down to the floor, clutched in both hands between his spread legs. He’s on the top step with his eyes fixed on the door. He glances back at me.

“Fucking hide, Carew!”

I know from before that in this open area there is only one place big enough to fit a body besides in the wardrobe, which is full of hanging clothes. I drop to my stomach, mindful of my wrist, and wiggle underneath the high bed. Just as I turn to look at his legs, the unmistakable sound of machine gun fire erupts outside. And then the dogs are silent.

From under the darkness of the bed, I call to him, “B?”

He stands blocking the steps and says in a strained voice, “Fuck, oh fuck! No way Kreshmir would do that. Who the fuck is breaking in?”

I scramble out and run over to him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him to face me. “B, I can shoot! Where are the other guns? Tell me!”

His eyes are hard and wild as he answers, “He has them locked in the basement safe.”

“Give me the combination.”

“There’s no time.”

Before he finishes the sentence, the front door splinters apart from three explosive blasts. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that there are several men on the other side of the destroyed door.

“He can’t lose us both, Carew. Fucking get way back!”

Without a weapon there is little I can do but offer encouragement. I back away until my ass hits the cold glass of the windows. I hear them. They are inside and shouting loudly. B’s frame locks into place as he begins to unload his gun in the direction of the foyer. He gets off several shots before one slug lands in his lower leg, taking him down to a knee. He turns to me, the firelight projecting the wild panic in his hazel eyes.

He screams one word that chills my blood cold, “Jump!”

I race to his side to help him up onto his good leg. “Not without you!”

We dash to the windows. I throw them open and help him up on the sill. “Push far out,” I say in a trembling voice.

“Follow right behind me, Carew,” he yells before leaping out toward the dark water. I hear a loud splash below but he is nowhere in sight.

Fight or flight kicks in and without coherent thought I step up and perch myself on the ledge. It’s dark. Really dark. I can just make out the water below. I hear angry shouting behind me and the pounding of boots on the stairs.

If I don’t do this, if I don’t jump now, they will shoot me, or rape me, or most likely both. With those horrifying prospects as motivation, I push back hard with my arms braced against the windows and take off, trying to land far out, in the deepest part of the water.

For four full seconds I’m flying. It would be amazing if I wasn’t terrified. I land hard, mostly on my right side. It feels as if I’ve been tossed out of a plane onto a tarmac, and I struggle to right myself in the freezing water. It’s disorienting in the dark, and the rush of water twists me all around. My lungs are burning as I finally surface, gasping for breath.

The fight has just begun because the swift current is pulling me along. I have to get out, now! There could be another waterfall or rock cropping nearby. I swim frantically for the closest shore, my strained wrist exploding from the pressure of each stroke. Come on, girl ….

I grab for a leafy branch that is barely illuminated by the shadowed moonlight. Ever so slowly, I haul my body against the pull of the cold water onto the grassy bank. Forehead pressed to the ground, I struggle to recover from the harrowing encounter. I have to get it together and find B. He’s shot and needs help. Oh God, I hope he didn’t drown!

To my horror, a spotlight illuminates me and loud shouting breaks out. Terrifying, angry male voices rush toward me from across the lawn. I shuffle backward into the cold water. I’ll take my chances rather than face these monsters! Before I can make it all the way back in, one reaches out and grabs my wet hair, hauling me roughly to a standing position before him. After looking his fill, dark eyes raking over me like I’m a cut of meat hanging in a butcher’s window, he says in Croatian, “I can see why Juric wanted her alive.”

I freeze at the caustic statement. Now I’m really going to have to pay up. My stomach clenches hard at the nauseating thought. I begin to tremble as angry words spew from their mouths while all three men use their Mag lights to search the dark water for B. I hope he made it downstream.

They drag me, shivering, to the car and shove me in the back.

This is a monumental disaster. Oh shit, Carew, what will you do now?

***

We’ve driven for nearly an hour, and thankfully they’ve ignored me. I can’t stop thinking about B. I hope he was able to escape and get help. Maybe the shot was a through and through? I hope to God Zoran is all right. He is going to go insane when he finds out that his brother has been shot.

By the time we reach Juric’s mansion, I’m mostly dry but chilled to the bone. The clock reads five a.m. As soon as the car rolls to a stop, guards waiting for us outside pull me roughly out of the car.

I shudder in the cold air, my bare feet taking me up his stone steps to meet my fate. I almost wish that I bit it in the waterfall, because for Juric to go to this much trouble to get me here alive, he must want to hurt me. Badly.

I’m led by the upper arm into an opulent parlor decorated in gold and dove gray-blue. It is so glitzy in its Art Deco design that I feel visually assaulted. At that moment, I see Zoran and cry out in despair.

“No, no! Oh God! What have you done to him?” The words spill from my lips as my brain tries to make sense of what I’m seeing.

I’m crazed as I lurch for Juric, who steps away from my attack and lets out a cruel laugh. The big guard shoves me down into a Louis XIV-style chair right before tethering me to the ornate gold arms. He’s rough, tying my injured wrist down with unnecessary tightness. My eyes never leave Zoran.

He has been beaten so badly that if it wasn’t for the rise and fall of his chest, I would think he was dead. Fresh blood covers his face and his once white shirt now matches his scarlet tie. Both of his eyes are swollen to slits and his lips have two bad splits in them. His arms are tied behind his back and his legs are bound to the posts of his chair. At his feet is a spray of blood, shockingly pronounced against the cream and gray Aubusson rug.

I look to Juric, my eyes narrowed into an accusatory stare.

My words drip venom as I seethe, “You fucking coward. You beat him while he was tied down to a chair? You are nothing but a two bit loser, Juric!”

“Ah, Zoran, I see what attracts you to her. She is quite brazen to be saying such things to a man in my position, but Zoran knows how spirited I like my women. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to save you, darling. You see, Carew, I was fortunate enough to receive a call from a man named Kreshmir. I nearly didn’t take it; however, after he mentioned he was an acquaintance of Zoran’s and that a blonde American was staying with him, well, let’s just say that I was most intrigued. As I see it, he knew that our Zoran here worked for me and he saw a way to get back at him and make a bit of cash at the same time. Now, Carew, I want to know how you got into my computer and what you took. You have five seconds to talk before I begin shooting.”

I gasp as he pulls out a pistol and points it at Zoran’s left leg. Zoran barely manages to lift his head and look at me with one eye slightly open. He shakes his head back and forth.

“Wait, I’ll tell you, just don’t hurt him anymore, all right?” My voice is high and reedy with desperation.

“Ah, I see that you two sad excuses for human beings have fallen for each other. Well, if this isn’t my lucky day?”

I cast about, noting the three armed guards. My heart sinks. It will take a miracle to get us out of here alive.

“I was hired by a designer to see if you stole his concept. It’s obvious that you didn’t. There you have it.”

His eyes narrow in fury. “Where is the design?”

I lean forward and seethe, “How the hell should I know? I was in a crash, remember? It was lost in the wreckage. I had it on my person and after the crash it wasn’t there.”

“No matter. It has already been patented. Now, on to the business at hand—how to handle traitors. You see, I knew when Zoran and I had a chat about you the day after the crash that he was hiding something, but then again, with Zoran, there is always a mystery. But he is the best, or should I say, was the best in his business. Now, just to show him how I operate, I believe that I will kill the one thing on the planet that he loves. Actually, let me correct myself, I already had his brother shot. I heard that he drowned trying to save you. Did you see it happen, Carew? I hope that it was a slow and painful death.”

A tortured growl floods the room. Oh God! He didn’t know! There is little he can do but sit tethered to the chair as the pain of knowing that his brother was shot and perhaps drowned engulfs him.

“Zoran, look at me.” His tortured, swollen eyes find mine. “Whatever happens, it’s okay. I love you. Just hold on. Don’t you believe a word he says. He’s a fraud, a coward, and a liar!”

Juric breaks out into a mean laugh as he looks at Zoran. “Perfect. With that so elegantly said, I’m going to put a bullet into your mouthy bitch first, just to rub salt in the wound.”

Juric stalks over to me, his pistol leveled at my forehead as Zoran shouts out in a strangled voice, “No! No! Not her! Do me!”

With the pistol still an inch from my face, my heart thundering in my ears, he turns to tell Zoran, “I don’t think—”

Before he can get the last word out, the arched windows behind Juric explode from deafening gunfire. I watch in horror as Juric jerks spastically several times before falling heavily, his blood spraying me as his weapon clatters to the floor.

I scream loudly as a tactical recovery team led by Breck, clad in full fatigues, rushes in, shooting anyone that is armed.

I nod my head frantically to Zoran. ‘Not him! Not him!”

Breck reaches me in a heartbeat, pulling a very dead Juric off my lap by his starched collar before dropping him face first onto the floor. He quickly goes to work on the ropes with his black Sog Seal team knife.

“C’mon, Carew, we need to get the fuck out of here! We’ve been monitoring this place since you disappeared. Got a chopper on the back lawn. Gotta motor like fucking yesterday, doll.”

I’m desperate. “Wait! He’s coming with us!”

“Negative, you’re our only authorized recovery. Chopper’s full anyhow. House rules. You know the drill.”

“I’ll take the heat for it, Breck, please. We have to at least get him to a hospital. He could die!”

“Negative, we are in boiling water as it is. This place will be crawling with police soon.”

He starts to pick me up in a fireman’s carry. “Wait! For God’s sake, Breck, at least cut him loose!”

“Get out to the chopper. I’ll free him up.”

I hesitate, making certain that he keeps his word.

He crosses to Zoran, his imposing knife in hand. “Fuck me, buddy, did these assholes do this to you?”

He cuts him free of the bindings as Zoran grunts out his answer.

Breck glares at me over his shoulder. “Damn it, Carew, get on the fucking chopper now!”

I call out to Zoran, “Timberline street! 503 Timberline street!” I know he’ll find me once he gets out of this mess and searches for his brother.

I take one last look at Zoran. He’s craning his neck to peer around Breck’s large frame. Our eyes lock for a second before my feet become unglued and I turn to race across the back lawn out to the chopper.

Breck is right behind me, along with the four other armed mercenaries Wade Garnett must have hired to retrieve me. Inside of ninety seconds, the black chopper lifts off the ground. I want to wave goodbye, but he’s still inside, no doubt trying to shake off his injuries. My heart breaks. I wipe the streaming tears off my cheeks and try my best not to feel. It’s the only way I can get out of this with my sanity.

***

After touching down at an airport in Turkey, I am given a hot drink along with a change of clothing.

While waiting for our private jet to arrive from London, we catch the news of Juric’s “assassination.” An older man sitting nearby translates for us that the police investigation is ongoing but it’s suspected that the bloody hit was carried out by one of the leading Croatian Mafia families. We show nothing but casual interest, but it’s clear that the diversion of blame bodes well for us. My company made a nearly fatal mistake with this one, the most colossal one that I know of, in fact. When I get our senior director on the line my first question will be to ask how they could have suspected Juric. Someone’s going to pay for the shitty intel that led to this disaster.

I excuse myself to get up, needing to go to the ladies room to collect myself. Thankfully there is nobody inside. I splash fresh water on my face.

Staring into the mirror, I pray, Please, please let Zoran survive his injuries!

Chapter Fifteen

Four Weeks Later

It’s a sunny Saturday morning and I’m singing Sia’s sweet song, “Soon, we’ll be found,” while making yummy maple pecan pancakes. Upon my return, I was given two choices: either take a desk job or receive a severance from the company. I took the severance and made the decision to take some time off from work to sort through everything that happened. I’ll never give up cryptography, but it’s time for a change of pace. My director refused to apologize for the mistake, stating almost arrogantly that they pay through the nose for their intel and it’s always sound. Bullshit. You can’t be so cavalier when people’s lives are at stake. He might think of our team as disposable but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Operatives like me don’t come along everyday. However, I’m happy to have gotten out, knowing that I’ll find something better soon enough.

Movement through the front sitting room window of my small, craftsman-style home catches my eye. A red and yellow uniformed man is jogging across my lawn, headed to the front door. I check the little glass security window and see the he is a DHL driver with an envelope in hand.

As I open the door he begins in a rush, “Lady, I’m really sorry, this was priority, was supposed to be delivered yesterday but my brother got hit last night in a baseball game ….”

Smiling, I hold up a polite hand to stop him. “No worries, it’s all right. I’m sure that whatever it is could wait until this morning, anyhow. Where do I sign?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “You mean you’re not gonna call my boss or anything?”

“No, why should I? My envelope has been delivered. Thanks.”

“Okay, cool. Have a great day!”

He jogs away and I shut and lock the door before flipping over the large envelope. My heart stalls. In the return address box I see the name Zoran Vranic. I nearly faint.

I have not heard from him since returning to the states. With his security background and the address I shouted to him, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could contact me if he wanted to. I thought about trying to reach out to him, but each time I hesitated. What we went through together was so intense that I decided to wait, give things additional time.

I rip open the envelope and find a plane ticket, a piece of paper, and a key. As I open the white sheet of paper with trembling hands, I read, “Care to go for a swim with me in the Dalmatian Islands, princeza? I’ll be waiting for you in the water.” Below it is a foreign address. I cling to the simple silver key and read the ticket.

Oh no! It was supposed to be delivered yesterday because the first class flight that I’m booked on out of ATL leaves in just three hours!

I race for the bedroom and stuff everything that I’ll need into a simple carry-on.

I can’t stop smiling. I can’t believe that we will see each other again. Now I have the opportunity to sort everything out with Zoran.

***

The multiple flights seemed to take forever. I have mulled over what I would say to him endlessly. Now, vibrating with adrenaline, I make my way down the long flight of stairs from the white-washed cliffside rental house. He is in the turquoise sea, arms splayed wide. He looks so fine—larger and darker than I recall.

I quickly step out of my long white maxi-dress and race for him, clad only in a white string bikini. The warm, powdery sand caresses my feet. He makes his way to me as I enter the warm water, running headlong for him. Lifting me up in his arms, he smiles and kisses my face all over. His injuries are healing nicely but they are still apparent, a visible reminder of how close we both came to perishing that night.

“You came. Carew, I can’t believe you came. This is a dream.”

“Your brother, did he make it?” I whisper the question that has been running through my mind for several weeks now.

“Da, princeza, he swam to the opposite bank and hid. After they left with you he got to his truck and was able to call for help. He’s on crutches for another month but is already back to work at the school. My two guards were also found alive, though badly beaten.”

I lower my head to his shoulder and begin to cry in open relief. A gentle finger placed under my chin tilts my face up to meet his.

I can’t hold back. I stand on tiptoes and press my lips to his full, lowered mouth as I let all my feelings for him come to the surface. The kiss quickly turns sensual, needy, as our tongues plunge and explore each other, as if for the first time.

He groans before pulling slightly back to devour me with his eyes. Those steely eyes are so mesmerizing in their beauty.

“You’re far more beautiful than I remember, princeza. Jesus, baby, you’re glowing.”

I twine my arms around his neck and gaze deeply into his gray eyes. “That’s because we both love you so very much.”

I wait. His first look is one of confusion, as if he misunderstood me, swiftly followed by hope.

“Carew ….”

“Yes?”

“Are you telling me that you’re carrying our child?” He is so awestruck that he can barely get the words out.

I smile brightly. “Yes, my Tigar, I am.”

His smile is blinding in its radiance as he twirls me around in the crystalline water.

“Oh God, Carew. Volim te, I love you so much, baby. I wanted to tell you before I left the house that night. I never thought I could love someone the way I love you. Thank you, princeza, for saving me.”

I touch his warm cheek softly and say, “I love you, my Tigar, and we saved each other, remember?”

Epilogue

Two Years Later

I’m so excited that I’m nearly bouncing in the driver’s seat of the giant Hummer when I see them. Zoran is standing behind my little love, who is trying hard to kick a soccer ball across the wide, green lawn of Villa Vranic, but he keeps tripping over it on his chubby little toddler legs. Zoran is ever so patient, bending low over and over again to stand him up, hoping that he will eventually get it.

Georgina and B will be over for dinner soon, and the surprise that I have with me should keep all of us quite entertained this summer evening.

For the past eight months I’ve taught Aikido at a nearby martial arts dojo. It’s a nice balance with my full-time job of taking care of our darling baby Balthazar. We couldn’t resist naming him after his one of a kind uncle.

I occasionally make use of my cryptography skills and assist Zoran with his thriving security business. In time I plan to make it a more permanent position, but right now my schedule is full. Luckily, the night everything went down, he found out that his two missing men were tied up in Juric’s mansion, most likely awaiting interrogation and additional torture at the hands of the brutal mercenaries Juric hired once he found out I was alive. Zoran cut them free and they got him to a hospital, where it was discovered he’d sustained multiple lacerations and three fractured ribs.

Zoran threatened Kreshmir within an inch of his life for turning us in. It’s safe to say we won’t be seeing him anytime soon. The last we heard, he was starting a business in Macedonia.

Croatia, as I’ve come to learn, is a beautiful country full of beautiful people. I’ve embraced the culture and couldn’t imagine calling any other place on the planet ‘home.’ We discussed making our permanent residence in Atlanta, but in the end decided that Croatia is the best choice for us.

B and Georgina have been fabulous in assisting with baby Balthazar. We wouldn’t ask for a more loving, supportive family. Zoran has three days off from his security business and we are all looking forward to spending time together during this long weekend.

I pull the vehicle closer and Balthazar sees me, pointing and shouting out, “Mama, mama!”

The windows are down and I hear Tigar reply, “Da, tu je Mama.” Yes, there is Mama.

I put the truck into park and peek over into the crate placed securely beside me. Two fat, wiggly Doberman puppies are rolling around in a playful manner on a soft blue blanket. I whisper, “I have some very special people to introduce you to, puppies.”

I open my driver side door and call out, “Balthazar, Mama has a surprise for you and Papa!”

They both smile and rush toward me with curious looks on their faces. My heart fills with so much love that I wonder how one human being could possibly be so lucky in life.

* * *

Erotic Romance Author Christine Edwards grew up in the Deep South on Hilton Head Island, SC. At an early age she developed a passion for the arts that led her to earn a bachelor’s degree in Art History from the College of Charleston in South Carolina. Christine has a special place in her heart for reading and writing erotic tales. She continues to publish stories that immerse readers in exotic and realistic geographic settings amid interesting subcultures of adult life.

Within the vein of BDSM romance, her main focus is on loving, multi-faceted relationships involving intense alpha males and feisty heroines. She adores snow skiing, traveling the world, and spending time with her amazing family. Christine currently resides in the sleepy coastal town of Beaufort, SC.

Please visit Christine Online: www.christineedwardsauthor.com

Facebook: Christine Edwards Author

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Table of Contents

- Special Thanks
- Also By Christine Edwards
- Prologue 4: 00 AM Zagreb, Croatia
- Chapter One Four Hours Earlier Enigma
- Chapter Two Nerves of Steel
- Chapter Three The Tiger
- Chapter Four Insolence
- Chapter Five Bluffing
- Chapter Six The Name Game
- Chapter Seven The Tie That Binds
- Chapter Eight Hurt Me Good
- Chapter Nine Arrogant Angel
- Chapter Ten Croatian Lessons
- Chapter Eleven A Steady Hand
- Chapter Twelve Drowning in Dreams
- Chapter Thirteen Hunted
- Chapter Fourteen Freefall
- Chapter Fifteen Four Weeks Later
- Epilogue Two Years Later