Rayne sits with her head thrown back, saying nothing for so long I begin to wonder how stoned she is. I just about reach my ping point when she speaks.

“How much do you know about Viper?”

“Not much. That’s where I’m hoping you can help me.”

She rubs her left deltoid and looks out the window. I reach inside for calm. Something I’ve perfected during negotiations with some of the powerful, and sometimes evil, men who hire me. I watch Rayne carefully as she curls up on the tan leather chair that almost swallows her petite frame.

“How long have you been looking for him?” she asks.

“About six weeks.”

She massages her deltoid again.

“Why do you think he can lead you to the guy in charge?

“We don’t know for sure, but all leads point to him.” I press down on my impatience at her barrage of questions. She doesn’t know me from a stray cat. It will take time to earn her trust.

“And what will you do when you find him?”

Pulverize him. “Find his lair. Question him, of course.” I know this isn’t what she means, but she has yet to earn my trust.

“That isn’t what I meant, and you damned well know it.”

She grunts, clutches her stomach, and rocks. It takes me three long steps to reach her. Milliseconds that feel like years. I put two fingers on her carotid artery. She moans.

“What’s wrong?” I try again to take her pulse. She swats my hand away. I prevail. Her pulse races. I crouch beside her.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Besides fucking everywhere, you mean?” She rocks forward again and takes in a huge breath. “Sorry. Bad cramps in my kidneys, and my shoulder feels weird.”

“Let me have a look.” I keep the panic out of my voice. What the fuck did I miss earlier? I didn’t want to wake her, so I wasn’t as thorough as I should have been. Now, she’s skittish, and I don’t want to spook her more. I know from experience how much damage could be inflicted on a sex-trade survivor. If they survived.

Rayne throws me a look that has skepticism written all over it before doubling over again. I pick her up and ease her onto the couch. She pants, and tears well in her eyes. I reach under her shirt and gently palpate her abdomen. When I reach her right kidney, she yelps.

“How bad is the pain on—”

“A scale of one to ten. I know the drill. Nine.” She pulls her legs up to her stomach and hisses through her teeth. “Don’t worry. It will pass soon.”

I gently but firmly push on her thighs until she straightens her legs and continue my examination. One potentially cracked rib. Multiple contusions, some new, some older. Then there are the scars. The muscles of my face tighten as I struggle to keep my composure.

“We really should get you x-rayed. Any blood in your urine?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of your goddamned business,” she hisses.

I straighten and look her directly in the eyes. I sharpen the edge to my tone, pulling on my rusty medical skills. “Rayne, would you give me just one microscopic break here. I do have medical training, and it’s patently obvious you’re not well. I’m trying to help you.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles. She relaxes, slightly, but enough for me to examine her. There are no broken bones, but far too many lumps, bumps, and scars. I ease her shirt back in place and sit back with my elbow on the back of the couch. She stops panting, and much of the tightness caused by pain drains from her face.

She touches me. A jolt of electricity runs through me. She jerks back as if burned by the intensity of my rage. What kinds of bastards would do this to such a beautiful little dragon? I shake it off. The moment passes, and a dull glaze films her eyes.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better?” Her inflection rises as her eyes slide from mine. Eyes the black-flecked golden brown of macadamia nuts. I can almost see her mind whirling behind those very expressive eyes. She’s one of the most assertive women I’ve ever met, yet everything about her screams Submissive. My cock stirs as the heat of her body sends her soft scent drifting toward me. Her short black curls scream for me to grab them, wrench her head back, and make her moan.

She looks from me to the tin holding the pot and back to me. I wait a beat. She says nothing.

“If you want something from me, you’re best to just ask.” I move toward my little tin of goodies, turning my back to her, and wait. It doesn’t take long.

“I’d be a lot better if I could have some more of that.” She sounds as if she begrudges asking me. What the fuck is up with this chick? I should have known better than to trade the sanctuary of my computer lab for human interaction. But curiosity still tugs at me.

“Why did Viper beat you so badly?”

“I told you already.”

Despite the raging war my gut is having with my brain, I’ve perfected the art of seeming patient. I call on that skill and hang on desperately with this woman. Could she just answer a fucking question directly? Yet it fascinates me, watching her mind work. I haven’t been this interested in another human being since . . . I shake the thought from my head. I watch and wait. She takes another long, drawn-out toke. Eventually, she sighs.

“All right, all right. I told him I’d never kneel for him. He could cripple me first. He said, wanna bet. He beat me. He lost. End of story.”

“Except that isn’t the end of the story, is it? Why was he going to mutilate you?”

“Look, you don’t get it, do you? I belong to no-bo-dy.” She drags out each syllable.

“When did your stepfather rape you?”

“Don’t call him that. My stepfather. He lost that right. I was fourteen.”

Oh, God. I pull my heart back from reaching out. A world of hurt rested behind the hardness peeking out from her swollen lids.

I simply cannot allow myself to become emotionally involved with anyone, never mind someone with a freight car filled with baggage. How the hell could you respond to that? Compassion makes her quills come out. Matter of fact, it brings out the bitchy.

“Did he live?” I asked. Where the hell did that come from?

She stares at me for a long moment, then barks out a laugh. Grabs her side. Throws back her head and laughs again. Laughs until tears run down her face. Laughs until the pain in her side sends her into a fetal position, panting for air. I hand her a box of tissues and wait while she mops up.

“Oh my God.” She takes a few gulps of air. “Thank you for that. I’ve never heard anything so funny in my life. No, I didn’t kill the bastard, but I did threaten his weak life with a knife if he ever laid a hand, or dick, on me again. I should have killed the bastard. Then he couldn’t have sold us and . . .” She swallows and turns her head away.

“And your sister would still be okay. I get it. But she isn’t, so what are you going to do about it?”

She looks at me in what I can only call sheer amazement. “Isn’t being abused, raped, and sold to a sex slaver enough?” She puts righteous indignation behind every word. This is probably where any other rescuer would let her get away with shit.

“Yes, and now you’re not being abused or raped, nor are you a sex slave, so what are you going to do about it?”

“And what the fuck exactly do you think I can do about it?” That little body radiates fearsome malevolence. I hide a smile.

“You can help me find the man who has your sister, and we’ll go get her. Simple.”

“They’ll find us and kill us. You can’t hide from them, you know. And now that you stole me, it’s only a matter of time until Viper finds me. Viper doesn’t like to be bested.”

I try not to be smug. “Not if we find him first. I’m very good at what I do, and I’m beginning to suspect you’re hiding a few other skills. If we work together, we’ll find him in no time.” What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t do partnerships.

She chews her bottom lip. “You said I’m free to go, right? I think I’ll just go.”

“If you think that’s best.” I keep my voice neutral and head for my lab. I’ve spent long enough away from my work. She’s going to help me, or she isn’t. Either way, it’s time to get back to business.

She walks through the sliding doors. In the garden, she takes a good look around before heading to the driveway. I head to the monitors and watch her make her way toward the entrance to the property. She sets a steady pace, stopping from time to time to look behind her.

The silent alarm goes off. Someone has breached the perimeter wall. Rayne hunches over, clutching her deltoid. I have her in my arms in less than a minute.

“What’s wrong?” I take her carotid pulse. It’s racing. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“I don’t know. It started burning where they gave me the shot.”

“What shot?

“Birth control.” She moans softly and starts to rock.

The silent alarm pulses on my wrist band. The hair rises on the back of my neck. Someone tripped one of alarms set around my property. They found her.

“They’ve activated a tracking device.” I pick her up and rush toward my lab. This changes everything. Damn it. I should have thought of this. We don’t have a minute to lose.