I raise my brows and my mouth draws down into a frown. “Why would ye think that?”
Her eyes narrow on my face. She has lovely hazel eyes, the green-brown colors nearly electric.
“Why else would you mention his name and then kidnap me?”
She pulls at the plastic zip ties that bind her hands and feet. I consider her for a moment.
Can I let her go? Where exactly would she run?
I dart my gaze around and sigh. “I want to let ye out of yer bonds. We are far enough over the ocean by now that ye have nowhere to go but with the airplane.”
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “Okay…”
“If I release ye, ye have to promise to behave. If not, I’ll have to tie ye up again.”
She lifts her chin, frowning a little. “Okay.”
I pull out the knife I keep in the trouser pocket, springing the rather wicked blade open. A flare of fear splashes across her face as I approach. She swallows tightly and looks away.
I’m not sure what kind of life this girl has led. But I am damn sure that she’s deathly afraid of me.
When I reach down and slide the knife through her bonds, my fingers touch her bare skin only briefly. But there is no disguising the way her entire body trembles.
Nor the strange electric spark that seems to jump between us in the few moments my skin brushes hers.
Persephone flinches. She doesn’t move right away.
No, she waits. All her muscles are tensed, coiled, ready for her moment. And the look on her eyes is one of profound disgust.
I step back and she touches both of her wrists. Her eyes flit to the window, avoiding my curious gaze.
“I’m not with Constantine.”
That gets Persephone’s attention. She shoots me a look that is nothing but bewilderment. “I’m not entirely sure that I believe you.”
I shrug, retaking my seat. “That’s really not up to me, is it?”
Her answering scowl is expected. “I really have to use the restroom. And drink some water.”
I give her a grim smile. “Ye do that. We’re going to land shortly. Then we should talk again.” I pause. “Dinnae try to get the stewardess on yer side. We know everything about her life. Where she lives. The names of her kids. Everything. It would be unwise for ye to ask her to choose between all of that and helping a total stranger.”
Persephone looks startled. Good, let her be afraid. That’s what I want from her.
I stand up, finding the stewardess just behind me. “Can ye please see that our guest makes herself comfortable?”
She flushes and bows. “Of course, sir.”
I spend the next twenty minutes on a deadly boring but extremely important phone call about finding an appropriate cargo ship that’s already near Algiers. Lining up the contract with a shipping company is not exciting work.
And making sure I have a backup ship is literally twice as dull. But it is vital that everything goes smoothly. There can’t be a single thing left to chance.
Not on the biggest arms deal of my career.
I hang up after the plane lands. Looking over my shoulder as I clatter down the stairs, I see Persephone emerge from the dark plane cabin. She shields her eyes and follows me, a glum pout on her pretty face.
I stride to the waiting limo, holding the door for her. Her footsteps slow as she gets to the dark sedan.
She glances behind her to the plane, pressing her lips together. Looking for a last ditch rescue, perhaps.
I grab her elbow, impatient. “Get in the fucking car, lass.”
Her eyes flash as she tries to shake me loose. “Don’t touch me.”
I let her go, glowering. She slides in the car and I shut the door with more force than is truly necessary. I get in on the other side and then wave a hand to the driver.
As he pulls off, I roll up the partition and glance at Persephone. Her face is screwed up and pinched as she surveys the sandy ground. I can see the shore just beyond her, hear the swell and fade of the waves, feel the hot, salty wind whipping around my face.
“Where are we?” she asks.
Arching a brow, I tilt my head at her. “We are on a private island in Turks and Caicos.”
Her blue eyes narrow and her lips twitch. “And what happens now? You haven’t said why exactly you fucking kidnapped me and brought me here.”
“I need ye to forge some documents for me. And I brought ye here because I want to use the documents before ye get the chance to run and tell anyone about what I’m up to.” I suck in a breath and lift a shoulder. “Ye shouldn’t be detained more than three months. And I’m not expecting ye to work for free, of course.”
She crosses her arms, her eyes turning into slits. “This in the most insane way to conduct business. You could’ve just contracted me to work at home. Instead, you have broken any number of laws against kidnapping and… like, human trafficking? To bring me here.” She shakes her head, agitated. “Who would I have told, anyway?”
I squint out the window. “The FBI. The CIA. Or maybe yer ex-boyfriend.”
Her sharp inhale brings my attention back to her. “I’m not on speaking terms with Constantine, to put it mildly.”
I give her a cool glance. “I dinnae really care.”
Her grimace is enough response, I suppose. I sit back as the driver starts his way up a little hill. At the top is a beautiful beachfront mansion, white stucco walls and an elegant dark wood roof. Two stories sit on immaculately kept shady green grounds.
When we pull up to the large wooden double doors, I glance at Persephone. “Ladies first.”
Shaking her head, she refuses. “I don’t want to get out.”
I crack my knuckles, looking at her mildly. “Are ye asking for my help?”
Her cheeks flush a pleasing shade of scarlet. “I won’t tell anyone. Honest. Just let me get back on the plane and fly home.”
As fast as lightning, I move over toward her and shove her out of the vehicle. She fights against me as I wrestle her toward the front door.
“No! Help!”
She looks behind her, frantic. “Driver! Help me! This man has me hostage!”
The driver is standing nearby. But he nervously looks away, licking his lips. Smart man.
I stop, grabbing both her arms and pulling them behind her back. “Should’ve brought more zip ties, I guess.”
Lifting her slight body, I sling her over my shoulder as if she were no more important than a sack of flour. She shrieks as I carry her through the threshold, flailing and pounding her fists against my back.
“Let me go! Let me go, you fucking asshole!” she howls.
As her fists rain down on my back, I shudder. I don’t like to be touched on my back.
Actually, I prefer that no one touch me, period.
But I ignore Persephone’s protests, carrying her straight upstairs. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been in this house, but my near-eidetic memory is helpful when I decide where to take her.
I bust into a bedroom, not stopping until I swing her down onto the broad king sized bed. Then I step back, my body shuddering once more.
That’s the most contact I have had with another person in a while, captive or no. My heart is pounding, and my breathing is a bit unsteady as I look at her.
All my nerves are jangling, going haywire at being suddenly stimulated after being accustomed to not touching anyone.