“Are you all right?” Abigail asked in a whisper that she was hoping the men couldn’t hear from wherever they were in the house.

Mary nodded silently, but then peered down at the chains surrounding her from top to bottom. When her gaze returned to Abigail it held the question, What the hell?

Abigail offered her a sympathetic expression. Their kidnappers had really overdone it with the chains and—

On the other hand, she thought suddenly, if these men were the ones behind the disappearances of all those immortals that Tomasso had mentioned, they should know better than most how strong immortals were. Right?

Abigail glanced from Mary to Jet, her mind working. Just how strong was she now that she’d been turned? Was she strong enough to break the ropes binding her? Strong enough to throw Mary over her shoulder and carry her out of here? If Jet woke up and was able to move, and if she carried Mary, they might be able to—

“Where is Jet?”

Abigail glanced back to Mary at that question and then nodded to the left. Mary immediately twisted her head around until she could see him behind her.

“Poor kid,” Mary muttered. “He’s gonna have a headache too. Hopefully that’s all though,” she added with a frown and began to try to turn to get a better look at his head wound. The movement immediately made her chains jangle and Mary froze, her eyes shooting to Abigail’s in panic.

In the silence that followed, the sound of the doorknob turning was like thunder. Mary’s eyes widened, and then she closed them and let her head drop back to the floor as if she’d never woken up.

Following her lead, Abigail lowered her own head to her chest, feigning sleep. She heard the door open and footsteps as someone crossed the room toward her, but still gave a start when something brushed against her arm.

“I’m just checking your ties,” Jake growled resentfully as she lifted her head.

“Sorry, you just startled me,” she said.

“Hmm.” He hesitated, obviously still stinging from her disgusted expression earlier. Irritation crossing his face, he reached for her sunglasses, muttering, “Why are you wearing those ugly things? I can’t see you properly when you look at me.”

Abigail leaned her head back sharply, hitting it against the wall as she tried to avoid his reaching hands. She had nowhere to go, however, and in desperation, closed her eyes as he lifted the glasses away.

“What are you doing? Open your eyes. I wanna see them,” Jake snapped.

“I can’t. I’ve been sick. My eyes were damaged by the dehydration and the doctor at the hospital said I shouldn’t go without sunglasses for at least a week if I want to see properly again.” Abigail had no idea where that lie came from. She was usually an awful liar, but boy, this was the second doozy to slip off her tongue since encountering these men.

“Oh right, the dengue,” Jake muttered and she felt the glasses slide back into place on her nose.

Letting her breath ease out, Abigail raised her head, but kept her eyes closed to prevent his seeing the silver specks through the dark lens.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Jake grunted. “I had a friend go down with that dengue hemorrhagic virus. Nasty business. The doc wasn’t on the island when he came down with it. We were sure he was gonna die. Bleeding everywhere, nose, mouth, eyes. He was even sweating blood . . . in buckets. I think he was close to taking his last breath when the doc got back. Put him on a liquid intravenous, gave him blood transfusions and a couple days later he was fine. But before the doc got there I thought he was a goner,” he muttered. Abigail was sure she could actually feel his searching eyes on her face as he asked, “Was it like that for you?”

Abigail hesitated. Her instincts were telling her that he was testing her somehow. That perhaps the sunglasses made him suspect she might be a vampire after all. Finally, she said truthfully, “I don’t remember most of it. Just waking up feverish and in terrible pain. And I remember my nose started bleeding as they were trying to get me to drink water and then I looked at my arm and it was like you said, like I was sweating blood, but only little pinpricks of it, not big droplets or buckets, or anything.”

“Yeah, like that,” Jake said and she could almost feel him relax. Apparently she’d passed the test if it had been one. “Little pinpricks of blood all over his skin . . . Yeah . . . You had it bad.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

They were both silent for a minute and then Jake announced, “Sully thinks we should kill you and your boyfriend.”

Abigail stiffened and just barely kept from opening her eyes. Forcing herself to stay calm, she said softly, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No?” The word faded a bit as he said it and she suspected he’d turned to look at Jet. “Is he with them then?”

Abigail cautiously opened her eyes to see that he was looking at Jet. Afraid that if he looked at him too long he might recognize that under all that hair was the pilot who had flown them out here, she tried to think of something to say to draw his attention back her way, but before she could come up with something, he started to turn back. Abigail immediately closed her eyes again.

“Well?” Jake asked impatiently. “Is he with them or not?”

Abigail had read somewhere that in kidnap and hostage situations, establishing a rapport and appealing to their family feelings raised your chance of survival. So she lied. “He’s my brother. We’re here with our mom and dad, a family trip to celebrate his graduation.”

“Yeah?” Jake asked with interest.

“Yeah,” Abigail murmured, and then hoping to get Jet out of there so she could risk an escape attempt, she pointed out, “My brother didn’t see anything. You guys knocked him out right away from behind. You don’t have to kill him. Maybe you could just let him go? Dump him on the beach or something before he wakes up? That way my parents wouldn’t have to lose both of us.”

A long silence followed and Abigail almost opened her eyes to see what was happening, and then Jake said, “That’s real brave of you. Selfless too.”

“He’s my brother. I love him,” Abigail murmured, and all of that was mostly true. While Jet wasn’t related by blood, he was like a brother to her, and she definitely loved the big idiot.

“How much?” Jake asked.

Abigail frowned with confusion. Did he want money? She wondered and asked, “How much what?”

“How much do you love him?” Jake asked.

She stilled as she sensed him moving closer, suspecting where he was going with this now.

“Enough to play nice with me to convince me to let him go?” he asked.

Abigail felt the gun barrel slide along her leg and had to press her teeth tightly together to avoid saying something she would regret. But she was thinking that she probably should have expected this from the man. After all, he was the sleazeball who wanted a “pretty little mermaid with perky titties” that he could keep in a fish bowl and use at will. Why wouldn’t he think it was okay to force a gal he planned to kill to have sex with him in exchange for her brother’s life?

Jake was scum, and Abigail was beginning to cramp with her need for blood, which was making her crankier than her time of the month ever had and even she would admit she was a complete bitch at that time.

“There’s the van,” Justin said.

Spotting the white vehicle up ahead as they came around a slight bend in the lane, Tomasso nodded. They’d followed the short road from the point the kidnappers had made the girls drag Jet into the trees. There had been no turnoffs or offshoots, the road was a straight shot up to here, and the van was parked where the lane ended . . . right behind the villas.

“It must be a service lane for the housekeeping staff to use,” Dante commented as they approached the van.

“Are we sure it’s the same van?” Justin asked suddenly, sounding uncertain. “It has the resort logo on it. I don’t imagine they let clients drive them.”

“Maybe they stole it,” Tomasso suggested as he stopped to peer in through one of the windows.

“I’d definitely say they stole it,” Lucian said, his voice grim, and Tomasso glanced around to see him standing in the vegetation at the side of the road. It reached almost to the top of his hips, hiding whatever Lucian now bent to examine.

Curious, Tomasso walked over. The man was brushing a strand of dark hair away from a woman’s face. Obviously a local, she wore a white housekeeping uniform with the resort logo on its pocket. A man in white slacks and a white shirt also with the resort logo on the pocket lay next to her. Both were young, attractive, and dead, their throats slit.

“These kidnappers are rabid dogs and need putting down,” Lucian growled as he straightened.

Tomasso nodded and turned to peer at the nearest villa to where they were standing. It was right next to their own villa, he saw, and was no doubt where Abigail, Mary, and Jet were being held.

“Well? What’s it gonna be, girlie?” Jake barked, his voice raspy as the gun barrel slid up past her knee.

Abigail’s mouth tightened. She wasn’t sleeping with the scumbag. That was a given. The very thought made her stomach hurt . . . or maybe that was her hunger. Probably her hunger, Abigail decided. It had been growing since she’d woken up, and just seemed to worsen once she’d realized what it was. Her sense of smell had grown keener too. The hungrier she got, the more she seemed to be able to smell and much to Abigail’s dismay, A-hole here was smelling delicious despite being a first-class scumbag. His scent made her think of bacon, or maybe she just associated him with it because he was a pig.

“He gets to live and you get to go out with a bang,” Jake coaxed and laughed at his own play on words as the gun moved further up, pushing the hem of her sundress before it.

Abigail had never experienced a fury quite as pure as what roared through her then. It wasn’t so much that he was daring to touch her even if only with the gun, although that pissed her off too. But that he could sit there and blackmail what he thought was a poor defenseless young woman with something like that? And then callously make a joke of it?

Trying to calm herself and figure out what to do, Abigail swallowed. However, she couldn’t help thinking that while he’d said a lot trying to convince her that Mary was a monster because she’d been turned, he was the true monster.

“But you have to convince me you like it, or I’ll kill your brother there after all, and torture him first, make him beg to die,” Jake added as the gun barrel reached her upper thigh.

Abigail eased her eyes open to see that the barrel was straight down, pointing at the bed and was continuing upward toward the apex of her thighs. The attempt to grab and stop it was instinctive, and it was only as she felt the resistance of the rope that she remembered it and then the rope snapped. Abigail suspected her expression was probably as surprised as Jake’s when her hands whipped around in front of her body, but she was committed now. Snapping her legs closed around the gun, trapping it, she covered Jake’s hand on the gun and squeezed, crushing his fingers against the metal.

She heard a crack crack crack, but it took a heartbeat for Abigail to realize she was hearing the small bones in his hand breaking. Startled, she automatically eased her grip and Jake quickly snatched his hand back, leaving the gun between her legs.

He tried to back away then, but Abigail’s right hand was already closing around his throat and squeezing. Grabbing the gun from between her legs, she lunged to her feet on the bed in one quick motion that startled even her. Whoa! She’d never been very athletic, more a bookworm, and this was practically Olympic gymnast medal-worthy, she thought in some part of her mind, and then was distracted by choking sounds from Jake. She’d lifted him off the floor as she stood, Abigail saw. The man’s feet were dangling six inches above the floor and kicking weakly. His face was turning purple. She was killing him.

Cursing, Abigail flung him back away from her. Her thought was to toss him far enough that he had a hard landing and was left stunned so that she got the chance to shoot him with one of his precious darts as he’d shot Mary. It should put him out long enough for them to escape, she thought. But she was way stronger than she’d thought, and Jake had more than a hard landing. He flew all the way across the large room and crashed into the opposite wall with force.

Man, I’m Hercules in a sundress, Abigail thought almost hysterically as she watched him go limp and drop to the floor.

The jangle of chains caught her ear, knocking her out of her stunned state. Abigail glanced to Mary to see that the woman was trying to get turned around on the floor so she could see Jake. Jumping off the bed, Abigail rushed to the other woman.

“No,” Mary said when Abigail stuck the dart gun in her mouth to free her hands and then lifted the blonde to her feet. “Just go. Get help.”

Pulling the gun from her mouth, Abigail muttered, “I can’t leave you and Jet,” as she tried to find the start of the chain to begin unwinding her.

“Don’t! Just take Jet and go,” Mary insisted frantically.

“No, I—” Giving up on finding the start of the chain, Abigail stuck the dart gun back in her mouth and grasped a length of chain in both hands. She took a deep breath, and then jerked like she had done with the rope. There may have been a lot of chain, but the links weren’t very large. It didn’t snap apart like the rope had, but it did start to separate. Biting hard on the dart gun in her mouth, Abigail tugged again and this time it did break.

“Damn, Abigail,” Mary muttered, sounding stunned. “You’re Hercules in a sundress.”

Startled at hearing her own thoughts aloud, Abigail glanced to Mary with surprise and then released a nervous laugh.

“I think we’re going to be good friends, Mary,” she said, dropping the two ends of the chain.

Abigail started to reach for another length of chain, only to pause and stare in amazement as the whole thing began to unravel and drop to the floor around Mary like bad knitting. Apparently, the amount of chain used hadn’t been overkill after all, but their kidnappers really should have tried a more complicated wrap or something, Abigail thought as she removed the dart gun from her mouth. She’d just let it drop to her side when Mary cried out in alarm.

Jerking her eyes to Mary’s face, Abigail noted that the other woman was looking past her shoulder, and immediately whirled. Her eyes widened when she saw Sully in the now open door, a gun aimed at her chest.

Abigail saw him pull the trigger. It was kind of weird actually and seemed almost slow motion. His finger moved, pressing on the trigger, there was a small explosion, and the gun jumped. Even as something shot out of the barrel, Sully was pulling the trigger again.

Abigail knew Sully’s weapon wasn’t a dart gun before the first bullet hit her in the chest. By the time the third bullet ripped into her, she’d raised the dart gun she held and was pulling the trigger.

The dart hit Sully midchest. The man jerked, peered down, and then fell backward, his head hitting the ground hard.

“Abs?”

Recognizing Jet’s concerned voice, Abigail turned toward him. That’s when the pain hit. The slow-motion sensation she’d been experiencing ended and the pain roared in. Abigail was unconscious before she hit the floor.

“Gentlemen.”

Tomasso and Dante paused at that quietly growled word from Lucian. Both then glanced reluctantly back as the man approached the slight incline they had just rushed up.

“Think,” he ordered once he reached them. “You cannot just go charging in there.”

“They have Abigail and Mary,” Tomasso growled, keeping his voice low as Lucian had, in an effort to avoid being overheard by the men in the villa before them.

“They also have those damned drug darts,” Lucian countered and then added, “So unless you want to find yourself naked in a cage again, this time with your women naked in cages next to you, I suggest we come up with a plan.”

Tomasso went cold at the thought of Abigail naked and afraid in a cage. And then he was struck by the realization that she might already be in that predicament. The possibility almost brought him to his knees. Tomasso had vowed to himself that he would protect her, and had already failed miserably at the task. That knowledge was a hard pill to swallow.

Abigail deserved better. She was . . . everything. Tomasso had met many women over the years, some he had liked, some he had admired, some he had found attractive, but Abigail was the first woman he’d met who embodied all of those things for him. She was wicked smart, picking up on things others would have needed explained to them. Her nervous chatter when she was uncomfortable was adorable and made him smile. Her kindness and caring though, and her concern and loyalty to her friend, those were characteristics that really made her shine in his mind.

Tomasso knew Abigail felt guilty about not worrying enough about Jet during their misadventures. The woman wore her emotions plainly on her face and he’d seen the guilt flicker there several times as they discussed her friend. But he thought it a wonder that she’d even considered the man with all that had been happening to them at the time.

And she was so strong, Tomasso thought with admiration. Another woman might have plopped down on the beach and waited either to be rescued, or for him to go get help. Or they would have wept and moaned or grown hysterical at their plight. Not his Abigail. She had stayed strong, ready to save herself and even him when he was laid low with his injury. She’d also remained upbeat throughout, usually smiling, often finding something to laugh at, but also prepared to do what needed doing.

In his eyes, Abigail was also the most gorgeous woman he’d ever encountered. Tomasso knew she hadn’t believed he saw her that way before the turn, but he had and still did. The woman was a rare jewel, and he had lost her like a careless child misplacing a toy.

“You don’t think this is the trap you thought they were setting, do you?” Justin asked suddenly, drawing Tomasso’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Maybe they’re in there waiting for us right now.”

No one responded at first, Tomasso supposed because, like him, they were now considering that it very well could be a trap. Perhaps Jake and Sully had known about the cameras, and expected them to go look at them and then follow the trail here to the villa. Perhaps the two men were inside even now, watching them from behind curtains, waiting to shoot them with their darts when they approached.

Even as Tomasso had the thought several shots rang out from the villa. He wasn’t the only one to flinch and half duck as he glanced around to see where the shots were coming from. But Tomasso was the first to realize the sounds came from a proper gun, not a dart gun. He also noted that they had been slightly muffled, as if they’d come from inside rather than from an open window.

Cursing, Tomasso turned on his heel and charged for the villa, Abigail his main concern. He knew she wasn’t likely to die from a gunshot wound, but she could be hurt, and Jet could die. Tomasso knew without a doubt that Abigail would somehow blame herself for Jet’s death if that happened.

The sliding doors into what would have been the living room/dining room in their own villa were open, Tomasso saw as he leapt over the tall flowered bushes and landed on the terrace. Picking up speed, he headed for them and rushed inside to see that this villa was the same as their own and he was indeed in a living/dining area that replicated theirs. His gaze shot around the space and—spotting feet sticking out of the door that should lead to the master bedroom—Tomasso headed that way even as Dante rushed through the doors behind him. Recognizing by the size of the feet that they didn’t belong to Abigail or Mary, Tomasso’s next concern was for Jet, so when he reached the door, he was very relieved to see that the feet belonged to Sully.

Still, that fact startled him, and Tomasso paused briefly to stare at the man, before the sound of rattling chains drew his gaze into the room.

Mary, he saw, stood with a circle of chains around her and she was struggling to get still more chain off of her hands, alarm on her face as she peered toward the floor. It was only then Tomasso saw Abigail and Jet. The man was trussed up like a hog and squirming like a worm, trying to inch his way toward Abigail who lay a few feet away.

“Dante!” Mary cried with relief, and the sound of her voice was enough to knock Tomasso out of his momentary shock. He started forward just in time to avoid being trampled by his twin as Dante rushed to his life mate.

Tomasso’s gaze slid over Abigail as he hurried toward her, noting the pretty blue sundress with hundreds of white polka dots . . . and, he realized with horror, three bloodred ones blossoming on her chest.

“He shot her!” Jet cried anxiously as Tomasso knelt next to Abigail. “Is she alive?”

“Yes,” Tomasso answered as he scooped her up in his arms and pressed her close. He started to turn, but paused as he spotted the bodies through the open bathroom door.

“Take the women back to the villa,” Lucian growled, moving past Tomasso to begin untying Jet as Dante finished freeing Mary from the chains and scooped her up as well. “Justin and I will take care of things here.”

“The villa?” Jet cried with alarm. “Abigail needs a hospital. She’s been shot, for Christ’s sake.”

Tomasso didn’t wait to see how Lucian would handle the man, but simply turned and carried Abigail out of the villa. He was aware that Dante was on his heels as he stepped outside, so wasn’t surprised when he heard Mary’s voice directly behind his right ear, asking, “Abigail’s going to be all right, isn’t she? He shot her three times. I’m sure he hit her heart, but she’s immortal now, so will recover. Won’t she?”

“Sì, bella. She will be fine,” Dante assured her and then asked, “Why was she not chained up like you?”

That caught Tomasso’s interest and he unconsciously slowed to hear the answer. It allowed Dante to move up beside him.

“They didn’t know Abigail was a vampire,” Mary explained. “She had the sunglasses on that Jet bought her, and they heard the doctor talking about her having dengue fever and thought she was still mortal like Jet so they only tied her wrists to the bed.”

“Ah,” Dante murmured.

They walked in silence for a moment and then Mary said with awe, “She was so strong, Dante.”

Tomasso glanced over to see the blonde peering at Abigail with concern. “She snapped her ropes like they were spaghetti, and then just tossed that man in the white T-shirt across the room like he was a dishrag when he tried to—”

Tomasso glanced at Mary sharply when she suddenly cut herself off. Eyes narrowing, he growled, “When he tried to what?”

Mary hesitated, but in the end admitted, “He was trying to blackmail her into letting him rape her in exchange for Jet’s life.”

“Let him rape her?” Dante asked with disbelief. “Is that not a contradiction in terms?”

“He wanted her to pretend to enjoy it,” Mary explained. “If she didn’t convince him she enjoyed it, he threatened to kill Jet painfully, or make him beg to die. Something like that,” she muttered, and then added angrily, “And the whole time he was telling her what he wanted, he was pushing the dart gun up under her skirt. I’m surprised he didn’t shoot her in the groin when she broke her ropes.”

Tomasso felt rage roll over him. That Abigail had been forced to suffer through such . . .

Swallowing the bile crawling up his throat, Tomasso picked up his pace, leaving the other couple behind as he hurried the rest of the way to their villa.