The Hit (Team Zulu 1)

Something troubled him. Did he feel guilty for what he’d done to me? Or for what he was about to do?

I’d rather not stick around to find out.

Scanning the room once more, I looked for anything I could use as a weapon. My search ended at the solid wood coffee table before me. It held a few hunting magazines and a small cactus in a white ceramic pot. While his gaze was still averted, I reached for the pot and held it on my lap hidden under the tented blanket.

He threw one more log on the crackling fire before coming to sit at the coffee table in front of me. Resting his elbows on his knees, he hung his head while twisting a braided leather band around his wrist as though he struggled to summon his next words.

I willed myself to be brave. There would only be one go at this, so it needed to be fast.

Drawing the pot above my head, I slammed it toward his skull. He grabbed my arm and diverted the blow. The pot crashed to the floor, shattering. Quick as an asp, he was on me. His solid body pressed me flat onto the sofa as he pinned my hands above my head.

He scowled with wild eyes. “That wasn’t very nice.”

I brought my knee up to slam it into his balls, but he shifted his weight to prevent the impact.

Loose hair hung over his brow when he shook his head. “Uh, uh.”

Oh, God. Did I think he was terrifying before?

My chest heaved with the effort to buck him off. “Get off me!” I snarled and tried to wrestle my arms free.

His eyes focused on where he held my wrists. Just as quickly as he’d pounced on me, he released me and backed away a few steps. The action stunned me into silence. He raked a hand through his hair, then scrubbed it down his face. I remained frozen and wide-eyed on the sofa.

“Christ,” he groaned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. But, Jesus, can you stop attacking me?” He gestured to the mess on the floor. “And my stuff. I liked that plant.”

Without taking my eyes from him, I sat up with caution and waited for some kind of punishment—a slap, or worse—but it didn’t come. Maybe he’d meant it when he said he wouldn’t hurt me. At least not right away. But that was no reason to drop my guard.

His hands moved to his hips as he considered me further. “Fuckin’ knew you’d be trouble.”

I almost choked. Trouble? This guy had no idea what a pain in the ass I could be. “If you’ve had enough of my company, you can let me go anytime now.”

“Already told you, that’s not gonna happen.”

“If I’m your prisoner, can you at least tell me what I’m doing here? Without all the cryptic bullshit this time.”

He scratched the back of his neck and took longer than he should to respond. “I’ll answer all your questions after I get you patched up. You look like crap.”

I let the insult fly past.

“No. We talk now. And whatever this is about, stop pretending that I’m not in danger here.” My eyes narrowed. “It’s obvious what kind of man you are. I can see it in your eyes, and it’s written all over you.”

He was an apex predator. I knew where I sat in the food chain.

His face froze. Must’ve hit close to home.

“I never said you weren’t in danger.”

“Whatever my brother has done, it’s got nothing to do with me. There’s been a big misunderstanding. You need to let me go.”

“There’s been no misunderstanding, Cameron. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” He blinked a few times and his stern expression softened. His cheeks puffed with the long breath he exhaled. “Fine. I guess we have to get this talk over with at some point. Let me grab something first.” He sidestepped the sofa and went to the kitchen.

I reached for the blanket and dragged it over my lap, clutching it tight. My ankle throbbed like crazy, so I rested it on the coffee table.

He returned with a gel ice pack and a bag of frozen peas. After placing the items on the table, he sat facing me again, close enough that his thigh brushed against my propped-up calf.

Nope. I clenched my knees together and pulled my foot from the table.

“Leave it there. Keep it elevated.” He took hold of my leg with a surprising amount of care and repositioned it so my ankle was on top of his thigh. Wrapping the gel pack in a cloth, he rested it over the purple bruise that was forming. “That ice is gonna get annoying, but tolerate it for as long as you can.”