CHAPTER THREE
As the truck lurched from the curb, Austin reveled in the growl of the engine and the pull of their departure. Zander hit the gas and, though her muscles protested, she gripped the leather armrest to keep from pitching sideways into his lap. They might be handcuffed together, but at least they were away from that horrible place.
To trust him was a gamble. Given the choice between him and those men with evil voices, she’d take the escape and hope she lived long enough to leave it all behind her. She let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes. The leather interior held the same musky cologne that lingered on his vest. She flexed her hands to lessen the tingle under her skin. “What day is it?”
“It’s almost five a.m., Saturday morning.”
Saturday. She’d been grabbed and held for over thirty hours. She dug her fingernails into her palms and steeled herself. She’d suffered trauma before. She had the coping strategies. Knew each stage of recovery. Nothing had been done that wouldn’t heal in a few days. She hadn’t been raped or killed. She’d been roughed up some, frightened and drugged but could get beyond that.
Unwelcome, images of monsters filled her head. Bile rose fast in her throat and she swallowed against the bitter burn. She fumbled with the buttons on the armrest but got nowhere . . . until the glass hummed descent on its own.
She let the warm, misty rain spritz her face and focused on Freddie Mercury singing Don’t Stop Me Now. “Thank you.”
The truck swung around the corner and she sensed the world outside: the tires hissed on wet pavement, humidity hung thick on the stale, damp breeze, the hum of the air changed as they passed more and more buildings.
Civilization.
She blinked back the sting of tears, her emotions a whirl of contradictions. The streets were quiet. Peaceful. She wanted to scream. How dare the city drone on, oblivious to what happened?
“You all right?” Zander asked.
Despite the air of menace he exuded, his question seemed genuine. Did it matter? He’d gotten them away from the warehouse and back to his vehicle. Now she needed to get away from him. “Are we headed to the police station?”
He shifted beside her and the ringing of a phone replaced Bahamian Rhapsody coming through the speakers. On the fifth ring, a muffled curse came over the line. “Zander, you better be fucking dying to call me while—”
“Colt, hold that thought. I’m hands-free in my truck with a woman who doesn’t need to be exposed to the intimacies of your lifestyle. We clear?”
Austin watched as Zander’s aura outlined strong, chiseled features. His voice resonated in the most mesmerizing way. Her heart rate slowed and a balmy rush bloomed through her insides. The musical cadence of his words soothed her, strengthened her somehow.
On the other end of the line, a lighter flared and then the speaker exhaled. “Yeah, crystal. What can I do for you?”
“We need to report two kidnappings.” He turned to her. “This is Detective Colt Creed out of the 51st Division. He’s a friend. Will you at least tell him your real name?”
The wipers whispered a slow sweep across the windshield.
Ha, he didn’t trust her either. “Austin is my name. Austin Navarro.”
“Colt, I’m taking Miss Navarro home. Can you meet us at her place to take our statements?”
Austin’s heart leaped. She’d been taken from the front breezeway of her apartment building. Those monsters knew where she lived and when they found her gone from the warehouse, they might come back. “How about we meet at the station.”
Zander hissed. “And traipse you through a precinct full of criminals and perverts wearing only my vest and these handcuffs? Unacceptable.”
She flattened the leather against her thighs.
After a long pause, Zander hit his indicator and they turned the corner. “Colt, meet us at the club. I’ll be there in two.”
“On my way.”
The call cut out before Austin could question the decision. The club? The fact that she had no say in the matter ticked her off. She wanted her life back. Her control. Her dog. She rubbed the ache in her chest. The first step to shaking off this whole nightmare was to find Stetson, healthy and well. It wasn’t to go to a club with a bad-boy white knight.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m something you stepped in and you’re trying to figure out how to scuff me off the bottom of your shoe.”
The brilliant blue of his silhouette dimmed as he fell quiet. Who was this guy? Not a civilian or a cop. Criminal? Drug dealer? Mercenary? Mafia maybe? As they’d skulked through the night, she’d felt the tension ease in his muscles. He moved with smooth, sure strides. Unafraid. His confidence helped to dissolve her fears, but why wasn’t he afraid? Any normal man would have been shaken.
Zander—the massive mysterious unknown in her already complicated life.
The engine’s hum slowed, and her heart tripped into a full gallop as they arrived.
Sweet Texas, what could she do now?
Zander pulled into his parking spot outside the club. When the engine silenced, he turned and met Austin’s glare. Blind or not, she could peg him with a look. He’d seen that same look outside the warehouse, a flash of fire, a promise she would lay him out regardless of his size, strength, or the fact that she’d probably never made a fist in her life.
“Where are we? What club did you bring us to?”
The disorientation in her voice made his blood boil. She hated being at a stranger’s mercy. He didn’t blame her but didn’t appreciate the hostility aimed at him either. “I own a nightclub, O-Zone.”
Her expression hardened. “After bein’ tortured and humiliated you thought you’d bring me to a swinger’s club?” Her southern accent thickened as her temper flared. “I’m not some depraved, sex-craved—”
“Careful, cowgirl,” he said, breathing in her smoldering hostility and making a mental note to keep her pissed at him. “We’re here to meet my cop friend, not for me to throw you over the hood of my truck and get inside you.”
Damn. The moment the words left his lips the image of her breathless beneath him seared into his mind. What an image. He sprung the keys free and shifted in his seat. “Think what you like about me, but we’re faced with bigger issues than whether or not my nightclub is clothing optional.”
Her jaw dropped as a glimmer flashed in her eyes. “Is it?”
He groaned. Man, so not the time. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Not bloody likely.”
His interest peaked. The scents of fear, exhaustion and the feminine essence of her skin mixed. The olfactory triple-threat set off his dominant warrior. “Tell me, Miss Navarro, does everything with you have to be an argument?”
Flat-out pissed with an emotional fall-apart just around the corner, the woman needed to get inside before they created a scene. She thrust her jaw. “Tell me, Mr. Ambrose, what is the protocol when the man who escorts you from hell takes you to his sex club? Should I be grateful?”
Well, shit. The more she met him head on, the more he liked her. The fact that she was not on board with getting skin-to-skin with him just proved her intelligence. He needed air. He cranked his door open, swung his legs out, and let his cuffed arm stretch behind him. After he sucked back a lungful of nature’s stale and unrefreshing, he swiveled back into his seat.
“Let’s try this again. Miss Navarro, I’m going inside to speak with Detective Creed. Would you care to join me?”
“Go to hell.”
He bound his temper. Did she think she could refuse him? His inner beast rose, his dark side enjoying this game of cat and mouse. He didn’t have time for it. “Excuse me?”
“Go. To. Hell.”
At the crack of resin, he glanced down. He’d clenched his key-fob into dust. “Been there more than once—gotta say, I’m not a fan. Now, stop stalling and get out of the fucking truck.”
“We can wait here until your officer friend arrives. I mean to feel his badge and call it in for verification before I go anywhere. I want—”
“You’ll want to do what you’re told. I’m not the only one being brusque and rude tonight, cowgirl. Careful it doesn’t get you into trouble.”
He breathed deep and cursed. Courtesy of this song and dance, she now teetered on the precipice of losing it—and not in the good way. He needed to move this along.
“Look, Austin, I’ve had a miserable night and it’s about to get worse. A female was taken from my club. I have to help her, and we’re bound together. Get over your modesty or prudish ideals or whatever this is, because we are going inside. I have shit to tend to.”
“Are you threatenin’ me?” She crossed her arms over her ample chest and the restraints pulled his hand into a position of getting him slapped. Why couldn’t she obey him and shimmy across the seat?
With a curse, Zander leaned in until his forehead almost touched hers. “I’ve got a solid buck-twenty-five on you in the weight department and we’re attached to one another. You are going—whether you like it or not.”
An all-powerful urge to drag her into his lap lit him up. Disobedience was a punishable offense in his world. Zander stared at her bare thighs, pale against the black upholstery. She scissored them tighter and tugged the edge of his vest to cover the highlights. Her embarrassment didn’t mean as much as finding that missing female.
Right. Without another word, he scooped under her legs and dragged her over the console and across the seat. “Put. Me. Down,” she squawked, writhing. “Help! Help me, someone!”
“I’m not kidnapping you,” Zander said, hoping no early morning workers witnessed the display. They passed the few cars left in the staff lot, rounded the dumpster and climbed the three metal steps to the side door. The instant he set her on her feet, she struck. He fended off her blows with one hand, punched the security code in the keypad, and forced her inside the steel door.
Once it clanged shut behind them, he grabbed her shoulders and gave a solid shake. “Calm the fuck down.”
Her knee connected with his inner thigh and he grunted. Thankful his reflexes were sharp, he gave up on reason and thrust his thigh between her legs. Clasping both her wrists he pressed her against the wall and spoke against her ear. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have. You’re safe. The club is closed. The staff knows what it’s like when life kicks you in the balls. We’ll go in and get you covered up. We’ll talk to the cop and get these cuffs off. We’ll call your husband. We’ll call your priest. We’ll call whoever you want, I swear, but I need to handle things. Stop being so fucking selfish.”
She stilled.
He clamped his jaw and tried to calm. As furious as he was—and he definitely was—her indignant scowl, mixed with the scent of her sorrow, was hands down the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, especially with her body’s warmth tight against his.
He eased off his hold and softened his tone. “You understand that, right? You’re free, but another female is still missing. This is more important than your hurt feelings.”
Tears welled in her eyes but refused to tumble. She blinked and cleared her throat, her color drained. “I just want to go home and make like none of this happened.”
Zander bit his lip and nodded. Austin had lost her hold on life. How infuriating it must be for her, knowing no matter how capable she was, her lack of sight created a vulnerability that held her dependent on him. At least for the moment.
And he’d berated her for it.
Well, shit. He wasn’t sure where the rabbit hole had been, but he’d definitely taken a header into Wonderland.
Austin followed Zander, finding it harder and harder to move. Her legs grew heavy, her mind too full to think any longer. The hum of fluorescent lighting buzzed above as the chill of ceramic tiles soothed her sore, bare feet. Pots clanged and water spray hissed against metal surfaces to the right.
“My god,” a woman said. “How difficult is it for you big, strong men to go out the door and throw garbage bags over the rail and into the dumpster? I tripped—”
“Jules,” Zander said, his voice tired, “is Danel or the cop here?”
“No. Kyrian set up shop with his phone and a bottle of Scotch in VIP if you want him.”
Austin listened to the woman’s voice but saw nothing. No colors. No silhouetted outline. Maybe this new sight only worked on men?
Zander squeezed her hand and they continued walking.
“Hey, Zander,” Jules said. “Is, uh, everything all right? Did you find that woman? Were you able to help her?”
“Not yet.” Zander paused, straightening at Austin’s side. “Listen up, guys, what happened here tonight will stir rumors. Colt’s men and our guys will find the woman. If you hear anyone say anything to the contrary, you remind them it is business as usual. Got it?”
Austin shivered. That woman was lucky Zander had dedicated himself to find her. No one would be searching for her. Deceased Texan parents. Idiot, cheating ex-boyfriend. Other than her clinic patients, no one would even notice her gone. She’d taken a couple weeks of personal time, so not even them. How long would she have stayed there before someone stumbled upon her body? Days? Weeks?
Images flooded her mind: her lying in a sticky blood pool, eyes dead and frozen, or maybe they would have gouged them out, or stored them in a mason jar as a sick prize. She had no idea what people like that did for fun. She did know one thing.
Evil had touched her life.
She rubbed her chest, vaguely aware of people speaking. The sounds around her fritzed in and out like a movie with bad reception. She tried to draw breath.
No air . . . just crushing suffocation.
A door swished open close by. “Zander, you’re back—Shit, you brought her here?”
Another one. Austin watched the emerald green silhouette flare around a slim, athletic man. His lilt resonated inside her with the same powerful draw as Zander’s deep voice. “And why the hell are you still bleeding, my brother?”
Bleeding? Zander’s hurt? He’d been cranky, though she suspected his disposition had nothing to do with injury. Heat flushed her skin. He’d been hurt, and she’d been fighting him at every turn. Had he fought the monsters in that warehouse? Her palms shook. A cold sweat chased away her flush and a violent shudder took her.
“She’s going over.”
Austin couldn’t fight. Couldn’t hold back the bombarding world. With her cheek pressed against Zander’s broad chest, his arms came around her. His hair tickled her cheek, the smell of his shampoo mixed with the strong scent of male.
“You’re all right, cowgirl. I’ve got you.”
She was so tired of being strong, so tired of holding the world at bay. Maybe Zander was strong enough to fend off the world for a bit. Just until her strength returned.