Darkest Before Dawn

Her scrambled mind could only come up with one promise.

He’d get her past, through, away from the terrorist cell hunting her, stalking her every movement. But surely . . .

No, she wouldn’t think it. Wouldn’t allow herself the loss of the only thing she had to keep her strong. That kept hope and faith alive in her heart. This asshole wouldn’t take that from her.

“That’s better,” he said in a silky purr. “You’re naturally submissive. I can sense it. You will be easily taught discipline and obedience, though, regretfully, my time with you will be short.”

Her eyes shot darts, her lips drawn in a mutinous line. Submissive? Obedient? She wanted to tear his eyes out and then go for his balls.

If he thought her some helpless nitwit, boy did he have a surprise in store.

She batted her eyelashes with clueless innocence, giving this asshole her best “Honor eyes,” as her family had dubbed them. The look that assured her that no one could ever remain angry at her long. The one that instantly got her out of trouble when she’d been stirring up mischief.

“I think you must have me mistaken for someone else,” she said in a calm voice. “I don’t know who you are or where I am for that matter, but I don’t have a submissive bone in my body, and if you so much as try to force my obedience, I’ll cut your heart out.”

Yes, she’d spoken calmly, but there was blistering violence and absolute conviction in her tone, her expression. She hadn’t survived as long as she had by being weak or being controlled by fear.

He threw back his head and laughed. “You seem awfully sure of yourself, Honor Cambridge.”

“And if I fail, Hancock will finish the job,” she said coldly.

At that, glee entered his eyes. Glee. A supremely satisfied expression gripped him even as he wound his hand tightly in her hair and yanked her protesting body close to his. He kissed her brutally, forcing her mouth open by using his teeth, slicing at her lips until her gasp of pain allowed his tongue to shove inside.

She struggled wildly, but he was far stronger, and she was weakened by her injuries. Tears burned her eyelids and she refused to cry, refused to allow this man the satisfaction of seeing her tears of pain, rage and worse, fear.

Where was Hancock?

“Hancock is renowned for his conquests,” the man said, his breath stroking over her damaged, trembling lips. “It is said he can make anyone do his bidding. He can make anyone believe whatever it is they want him to believe. Tell me, Honor, did he promise to see you safely home to your family? Think carefully. I also know Hancock not to be a liar. Interesting code, don’t you think? A cold-blooded killer. A mercenary. With a code. He doesn’t lie. And yet he can make you believe something he never promised. How easily you must have fallen under his spell.”

“You won’t make me believe he’s what you say he is,” she said in a frigid tone.

His hand wound even tighter in her hair and he yanked back, exposing her vulnerable neck much as a vampire would with its prey. God, she really was to the point of hysteria if she was calmly contemplating how like the fictitious monster this abomination was.

“I won’t have to,” he said with smug satisfaction. “He works for me. I paid him to bring you to me. You are a bargaining tool who serves a higher purpose. You’ll get me what I want and then you’ll get Maksimov what he wants. And then A New Era will get what they want.”

He studied her a brief moment, purposely drawing out her terror.

“You,” he finished triumphantly. “The very thing you thought you escaped will be your ultimate destiny. All you’ve done has been for nothing. But your escaping them greatly benefits me. Greatly,” he murmured, dropping his voice as he raked his gaze over her shaking body.

“Come in, Hancock,” the man called, evidently having heard something Honor hadn’t. “I should have known you’d be back to look in on your little pet.”

Bile rose in her throat. No. This wasn’t happening. He was messing with her head. She closed her eyes, refusing to be drawn into his sick game.

Her head was yanked brutally back until she feared her neck would snap.

“Open your eyes,” the man said, his voice snapping over her with the force of a whip.

Not because she wanted to, but because she had to, did she obey. She had to know what was truth and what were lies. When her vision cleared, she saw Hancock standing silently at the foot of the bed, his eyes intent and watchful, but it was the air of disinterest and the blankness in his gaze that terrified her.

“No,” she whispered. “No!”

This time she screamed it, and then she kept screaming even when she reeled from the fist connecting with her jaw to silence her.

“You know Maksimov will not be pleased,” Hancock said in a cool, unruffled voice. “You’re a fool, Bristow. She was healing nicely. Now you’ve bruised the one part of her that wasn’t already damaged. Her face. You know Maksimov likes a pretty face. He won’t be happy that the merchandise incurred further damage at your hands.”

Merchandise? She stared at Hancock in horror, knowing she couldn’t control the shock of his betrayal from her eyes, and he didn’t so much as flinch. There was no guilt, just steady resolve radiating from him in waves.

Oh God. No.

Honor rolled, the man suddenly allowing her to do so as if he saw exactly what was about to happen.

She barely was able to get her head over the side of the bed in time to vomit all over the floor. She registered the distant sound of a scuffle, angry words being exchanged, but her head was splintering apart with pain as she continued to heave when there was nothing more to expel from her stomach. And the pain from the stress on her injured side, the stitches no doubt torn, robbed her of breath. Her hair hung down in disarray as her head went limp. She simply no longer had the strength to hold it up.