Accidental Shield

“Such a shame. You know I don’t enjoy tormenting her,” he says quietly.

“Let her go,” I bite off, even though I know it’s as insane as it is hopeless.

He doesn’t even laugh. Just gives me this look that’s intense, cruel, and…almost sad?

“You’re asking the impossible. Her husband took off with Cornaro assets, vital information, thinking he’d double-cross me and sell it to the highest bidder. If it was just money, well, there’s always more of that. A traitor, however…well, I think you know my reputation. I never tolerate a turncoat, Calum.”

My heart starts to pound.

Oh, fuck. So the ransom request he’d left behind in Honolulu was just a lie. Cover for an execution.

“Goddammit, don’t you dare!” I’m roaring, even over that heinous drill again, the goon pushing the button as he holds the spinning head over my back.

“I’m just as sad as you are. Still, a fucking traitor…” he spits the word, flicking more ash across the floor. “I play by the book. And my book says anyone who double-crosses me dies. So does their family. If it’s any consolation, I’ll make her suffering brief.”

That’s when I hear her. The woman in the corner. He’s got her mouth bound with a gag, but her eyes are huge. She’s been watching me this whole time, clutching her daughter against her chest, her bound hands looped around the kid’s head.

It’s a small relief knowing she tried to protect her from the sounds of my screams, the damnable whirr of that bloodthirsty drill.

“Want me to finish this fuck boy, boss?” The goon asks, squeezing the drill again so it stirs in his hand.

“Keep working him. I want answers. As for our other guests…I’ve seen enough. Finish them cleanly, please. The little girl, in particular, should go first so she doesn’t have to watch her mother. We’re not heartless.”

His heavy footsteps echo across the tiled floor as he walks away. More muffled sobs come from the woman, and the goon sighs as he stands, like a petulant child who’s just been robbed out of his next carnival ride. He lays the drill down and pulls what looks like a nine millimeter from his belt.

I swallow the bile in my mouth.

I’m so weak they didn’t even bother tying me down. I don’t know if there’s permanent nerve damage, or if I can stand, but if there was ever a time to find out…

I flex my fists, channeling all my fury, my hurt, my fear into one fluid movement so I can spring up.

All I see is his back as he walks toward them. Laughing, he disregards his boss’ orders.

He tells her I was sent there to save her. He laughs again, saying I’ll be dead within the hour, and then she’ll be, too, and so will the girl in her arms.

Like hell!

I reach for my gun. It’s not there. Of course they’ve taken it.

There’s a chair, though, the one he was sitting on when he wasn’t on the floor drilling hell in my back.

It’ll do. Despite the pain, the hellfire burst zipping up my spine, I leap to my feet and—

* * *

Present

A noise pulls me out of my thoughts.

It’s Val, coming downstairs, grinning from ear to ear. I shut my computer. I’ve spent hours again coming up with practically nothing.

“All finished?” I ask.

She nods like her head can’t hold itself up, then presses a hand against her mouth, too excited to speak. She lifts up on the tips of her toes, bouncing, flaunting her curves in ways I’m almost afraid to notice.

Fuck, this girl.

“Come see!” she chirps, her tits bouncing real sweet every time she bends her knees and springs back up.

“Let’s check it out,” I say, standing up, trying to find the strength not to watch her ass hugging those jeans she’s got on today.

“I hope you’ll like them, but…if there’s anything you don’t like, just tell me. We can always change things around,” she says, hurrying to the stairs.

“I’m sure you left nothing unturned.”

“Seriously, just tell me,” she says. “It’s your house, obviously, so anything you like, I’m game.”

Right. I see plenty I like, following her up the steps, but I won’t tell her that any more than I’ll say anything negative about the rooms.

She’s worked too hard. I can always change things after she goes home if it’s appalling.

Upstairs, both doors are closed.

Smiling, she rakes a mischievous gaze over me and says, “Time to make a choice, Flint. Door number one or door number two?”

They’re both across the hall from Bryce’s room and the bathroom.

Since it’s the farthest one down the hall, I say, “Number one.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.” She hurries down the hall, wagging a finger after me to follow.

“Why?”

“Because number one’s pretty good…but two might be my favorite.”

“Saving the best for last? Smart.”

“Yes!” She opens the door to the first bedroom and steps aside for me to enter.