Midnight Rising (Midnight Breed 4)

"Yeah?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed those livid glyphs on you, my man." Narrowed silver eyes fixed on him over the distance. "Make sure you feed. Tonight."

Chapter Ten

Dylan sat near the head of the four-poster bed, staring intently at the illuminated digital display on her cell phone.

Looking for service...Looking for service...

"Come on," she whispered softly under her breath as the message repeated in agonizing slow motion. "Come on, work, damn it!"

Looking for service...

No signal available.

"Shit."

She'd lied to her abductor about having a cell phone. Her razor-thin mobile had been stashed in one of the side pockets of her cargo pants all this time, not that having it was doing her much good right now.

Her expensive international service was sketchy at best. Dylan had tried dialing out for help several times in the past hour, with the same frustrating result. All she was doing by refusing to give up was wasting precious battery time. She'd lost the cell phone charger and the power converter doohickey a few days into the trip; now she only had two bars of juice left, and this current ordeal seemed far from over.

As if to punctuate that fact, the lock on the door snicked free and someone twisted the crystal knob from outside.

Dylan hurriedly powered the device down and stuffed it under the pillow behind her. She was just bringing her hand out as her posh prison door swung open.

Rio strode in carrying a wooden tray of food. The aromas of fresh sourdough bread, garlic, and roasted meat drifted in ahead of him. Dylan's mouth watered as she caught a glimpse of a thick, grilled sandwich heaping with sliced chicken, marinated red peppers and onion, cheese, and crisp green lettuce.

Oh, God, did it look wonderful.

"Here's your lunch, as promised."

She forced a careless shrug. "I told you, I'm not going to eat anything you give me."

"Suit yourself."

He set the tray down on the bed next to her. Dylan tried not to look at the scrumptious sandwich or the cup of ripe strawberries and peaches that accompanied it. There was also a bottle of mineral water on the tray and a short cocktail glass with a generous two-and-a-half-finger pour of pale amber liquid that smelled sweet and smoky, like very pricey Scottish whisky. The kind her father used to pickle himself in nightly, despite that they couldn't afford his habit.

"Is the liquor to help me wash down the sedatives you put in the food, or did you put the mickey in the drink?"

"I have no intention of drugging you, Dylan." He sounded so sincere, she almost believed him. "The drink is there to relax you, if you need it. I'm not going to force anything on you."

"Huh," she said, noticing a subtle change in his demeanor from before. He was still immense and dangerous-looking, but when he stared at her now, there was a sober, almost pained resignation about him. Like he had some unpleasant business that he needed to get out of the way.

"If you're not here to force anything on me, then why do you look like you're delivering me my last meal?"

"I came to talk to you, that's all. There are some things I need to explain to you. Things you need to know."

Well, it was about time she got some answers. "Okay. You can start by telling me when you're going to let me out of here."

"Soon," he said. "Tomorrow night we'll be leaving for the States."

"You're taking me back to America?" She knew she sounded too hopeful, especially when he was still including himself in the scenario. "Are you going to release me tomorrow? Are you letting me go home?"

He walked slowly around the foot of the bed, over to the wall with the shaded window. He leaned one shoulder against the wall, his tattooed, muscular arms crossed over his chest. For a long minute, he didn't say anything. Just stood there until Dylan wanted to scream.

"You know, I was supposed to meet someone in Prague this morning - someone who knows my boss and has probably already called him to ask about me. I'm booked on a flight back to New York this afternoon. There are people expecting me back home. You can't just pluck me off the street and think no one is going to notice I'm gone - "

"No one is expecting you now."