Seduced by the Assassin (Forbidden Confessions 7)

But I have nothing to wear except a bra and jeans.

Ethan whips off his shirt and hands it to me. “Put this on. It might save you.”

“Save me?”

He raises a brow. “Dad won’t be out long, and he’ll bounce back fast. When he comes to, if that’s all you’re wearing…” He lets me imagine the rest. “You still a virgin?”

“Yes.”

The tilt of Ethan’s mouth is nothing short of cynical. “If he gets a look at you dressed like that, you won’t be for long.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m speeding down the wet highway west to Summerlin. The roads are freaking jammed. Then again, it’s a Saturday night in Las Vegas. The partiers and drunks are coming out of the woodwork. The good thing about that is, if anyone looks into my vehicle and sees Ransom propped up in the passenger’s seat, he’ll either look asleep or wasted. Neither is terribly abnormal in Sin City at ten p.m.

The GPS tells me we’ll be at Ethan’s mystery destination in roughly ten minutes. I keep looking in the rearview mirror, but I don’t think we were tailed. I’ve been on the lookout. A clean getaway would make me feel tons better, just like Ransom’s coloring returning.

He looks a lot like he did the day I left his house, except now he’s unconscious, rather than fighting himself and filled with regret.

If you stay, I’ll stop giving a damn how old you are. I’ll strip you down, get between your pretty thighs, and fuck you until you understand you’re mine.

A day hasn’t gone by since that I haven’t thought about Ransom…and wondered if he still thinks of me.

“Meow,” Shadow whines from the backseat, sitting on Ransom’s discarded duster that’s concealing the handguns once strapped to him.

I probably shouldn’t have brought the little feline along. If her owner comes back, I’ll get in a ton of trouble for taking her, but she cried and cried as Ethan and I were loading up my car. I didn’t have the heart to leave her there, especially after I’d promised to be her human. Besides, she brings me comfort, too.

And since I’m going to spend days alone with Ransom at an isolated party pad? I think I’ll need it.

Finally, we arrive. I punch in the gate code, half expecting it not to budge. After all, how the hell does Ethan have anytime access to a place in this swanky neighborhood? But the gate swings open right away.

I drive down a gentle hill before hitting a stone access road, then coasting under a collection of swaying palms. The house in front of me is huge, all Mediterranean plaster, stacked stone, and wood accents. It’s jaw-droppingly beautiful.

We’re staying here for a few days? Alone?

As the gate shuts behind me, I follow the stone drive around the back of the house, hop out when I see the keypad beside the garage door, tap in the code, and watch as it, too, opens to reveal a giant, empty garage.

Once I’m parked inside, I scoop up the bag of medical supplies I tossed together and the kitten, then head into the house.

It’s vast and dark. My footsteps echo on the tile. It feels empty, as if no one has been here in a while. But if the walls could talk, I’m pretty sure the conversation would be damn interesting.

I meander down a hall, through an enormous living room, then into the kitchen, flipping on lights along the way, then set the bag on a giant square island in the gorgeous warm-wood kitchen. I ease Shadow to the tiled floor. “Wow.”

She looks up at me, seemingly confused. “Meow.”

Is she hungry?

Shit. I remembered a little box for her to do her business…but I forgot to bring her food. I add it to the mental list of things I’ll have to somehow get my hands on.

“Explore, girlie. I’ll be right back.”

Then I head once more toward the car—and Ransom.

When I step into the garage, I freeze. The massive slab of a door is now closed. The overhead light is dark. Moonlight splashes through the windows, illuminating the space just enough to tell me one terrifying thing.

Ransom is no longer in the front seat.

Suddenly, I’m grabbed from behind. One brawny arm hooks around my neck. The other squeezes my middle. I feel hot breath and male stubble against my ear. I shiver.

“You have five seconds to tell me where the fuck I am and how I got here or I’ll kill you.” He’s not kidding since I suddenly feel a gun against my ribs.

“D-Don’t hurt me, Ransom. Please.”

Ransom

Fuck.

I’d know that voice anywhere. I know the pitch. I know the tone. I even know the slightly shaky quality because I heard it every agonizing day of the hellacious two weeks the underage temptress stayed under my roof.

In my son’s bed?

Suspecting the answer to that question is yes has tormented me for weeks.