The hair in my nape stands on end as I read the message.
Cas escaped. She stole Walter’s bike and took off.
Clenching and unclenching my hands, I climb the three steps back inside the plane and call to the pilot, “Take a break, but stay close. We’re not taking off immediately.”
He looks up from scribbling in a logbook. “Sure thing. I’ll be in the pilots’ lounge when you need me.”
I don’t waste time in listening to Walter’s voice messages. Making my way around to the front of the airport building with big steps, I dial him. The customs officer nods when I pass. They’re all on my payroll, allowing me to slip in and out of the country undetected. As far as the records go, my pilot did a Red Cross food donation drop and carried no passengers.
“Where are you?” I ask in a tight voice when Walter picks ups.
“Pretoria center. An associate who works in town gave me a lift.”
“How many men do you have in Pretoria?”
“I can get three immediately and another two in an hour.”
“Do it.” I stop outside the main entrance. “Sit tight. I’ll send instructions.”
I cut the call and wave a taxi over.
Fucking hell.
I’m livid. My hand shakes as I activate the tracker app on my phone while the taxi driver pops the trunk and loads my bag. Did Cas think I’d let her get away? Did she think she could run from me? Not that I blame her for trying. I’m impressed actually. She pulled a bold move. A part of me is proud of her. Admiration heats my chest even as I feel like spanking her tight little ass pink.
The app connects to the chip in her phone as I slide onto the backseat. She deactivated her geotracking, but it doesn’t matter. After a moment, I have an address. I give the driver the name of the hotel and offer to double his fee if he gets me there in an hour instead of the two of traveling time my traffic app indicates. Every minute counts.
While we drive, I send a text with the address of the hotel to Walter, instructing him and his men to take up position at every hotel exit and on every corner of the block. With that done, I have no choice but to wait.
The cops would’ve tracked her. They’re hoping she’ll lead them to me. If they cut a deal like I’m certain they did, they’ll expect her to exchange information for her freedom. Whatever the case, I’m one step ahead of them, and Cas’s free days are over.
At this time of the day, the traffic is heavy. It’s peak hour. Luckily, the driver knows the shortcuts and backroads. We enter Pretoria via Silverton and manage to make it across to the east side in just over an hour.
He drops me at the back of the hotel. The app indicates Cas is in room number twenty-five. I’m curious as to what her plan is, how she thinks she’s going to escape me, but for now, I only focus on getting her out of there without walking into a trap.
Walter lets me know he’s scanned the area, and there are no signs of cops in civilian clothes. I tell him to stay vigilant and make my way inside via the back. No matter how careful I am, I’m taking a risk, but there’s nothing I won’t dare for the sassy girl who stole a six-foot giant’s bike.
It’s a short walk through the lobby to the staircase that takes me to the first floor. The faster I eat up the distance to door number twenty-five, the harder my heart beats in my chest. The closer I get, the more right it feels. After what feels like forever instead of an hour and a few minutes, I’m finally there, facing the door that stands between us.
Crossing this threshold will take us to a whole new level. This time, I’m not stealing a night from Cas’s life. This time, it’s for good. There’s no turning back from this. If I walk through that door, there’s no way I can ever let her go again. The risks are too big. She’s a roadmap to me now and a weapon in the wrong hands. Her testimony will destroy what Leon and I have built. By my own doing, I tied her to me. Because of the choices I made, she’s got none left.
The moment is enormous. I let it sink in. I take a minute to look the ugly facts in the face. It’s heavy, what I’m about to do. Dark. But I don’t feel guilt. Maybe this was always going to happen. Yes. No matter how I look at it, in the dark place where I lock away my desires, there’s always been only one outcome to this game.
Maybe this was meant to be.
Taking the gun from the inside pocket of my jacket, I screw on a silencer. Just as I reach for the handle, the door opens in my face.
Chapter 19
Cas
Frozen in shock, I stare at the image my brain refuses to process—Ian on the threshold with a gun in his hand.
A silencer.
There’s only one reason for a silencer.
Adrenaline explodes in my body and pumps through my veins. A rush of heat runs over my skin and a burning sensation settles on the soles of my feet and my palms.
My brain kicks back into action while we’re both still planted to the spot. Ian’s frozen state has more to do with surprise than shock. The evaluation only lasts a second, but it feels like a moment suspended in time. I take advantage of that second before he comes to his senses.
Gripping the doorframe for balance, I high-kick the gun from his hand. The weapon flies through the air and hits the tiles with a thud, sliding and stopping short of the elevator doors.
He’s caught off guard, his gaze fixed on the gun. It wins me another precious second, long enough to kick him in the balls. Grunting, he cups his groin and stumbles back a step.
I don’t hesitate. I dart through the space he’s created, sprinting for the stairs. If the gun had fallen closer, I would’ve dived for it, but he’ll tackle me before I can get a grip. Running is my best bet. He has to get the gun before he can chase after me, and it wins me more time.
My breaths come in spurts as I rush down the stairs, taking them two by two.
“Fuck,” he cries out from the landing.
His footsteps fall heavy behind me, enough to make me speed up more, almost tripping over my own feet.
“Cas,” he yells, his voice coming from somewhere too close behind me. “Slow down.”
I fly around the bend, gripping the rail for leverage as I take the next level. The door giving access to the underground parking is in view. Just when I think I’m going to make it, a fist closes around my bicep. My body is flung around, and my legs tangle, my ankle twisting painfully. The momentum makes me fall backward. The air whooshes from my lungs as my back hits the wall. Ian is in front of me, a boulder of solid muscle that presses me against the bricks. Tobacco and leather invade my senses. His grip on my arm is firm but not enough to hurt. It’s the wildness mixed with the fury in his eyes that scares me. It’s the gun tucked in his waistband that makes me go cold.
I fight for my life. Pressing my forearms together with my fingers interlocked, I bring up my hands with all the force I possess to break his hold on my arm, but the effort has no effect on him. His grip doesn’t loosen. Instead, he folds his free hand around my neck, giving a warning squeeze.
“Stop fighting, damn you,” he says through clenched teeth.
The door on the floor above us opens. A man with a suitcase in his hands exits on the stairs. He pulls a phone from his pocket when the door closes behind him. Ian doesn’t as much as glance in the direction of the threat. His gaze remains fixed on me, measuring my reaction. As I open my mouth to scream, he crashes his mouth on mine and swallows whatever sound I was hoping to make. I push on his shoulders, but he presses closer, trapping me under his heat and strength. The length of him covers me as he plunders my mouth while keeping me pinned to the wall with his big hand around my neck. His erection pushes against my stomach. His hardness grinds on my pubic bone.
Despite my fear, I grow wet. I’m both frightened and turned on, and the cocktail is a potent mix. The fear releases more adrenaline, and my arousal feeds on it. If given a choice, this is how I’d prefer to blow out my last breath—on this twisted high.
The man with the suitcase is engrossed in his phone. He gives a start when
he notices us and quickly averts his eyes. My chance of rescue diminishes as he hurries past and disappears through the parking level door.
Some of Ian’s weight lifts, but he’s still pinning me to the wall with his body. He untangles our tongues and gives my bottom lip a punishing nip.
The color of his eyes is a smudge of smoldering brown flecked with amber as he pulls away to look at me. The longer hair on the one side of his head falls over his forehead and left eye. My ankle throbs with pain as we measure each other, me with defiance and him with determination.
“How are the cops tracking you?” he asks.
I hold his gaze but refuse to give him an answer. If I have any hope of getting out of here alive, it’s best he thinks the cops know where I am.
He tightens his fingers around my neck, giving me just enough air to breathe. “How?”
I lift my chin as much as his hold allows. “Do it.”
His nostrils flare. “You think I want to kill you?”
I spit the words at him. “Why else are you here with a gun?”
His smile is cold, almost cruel. Right now, he’s not the man who made me pancakes. He’s the dangerous man who detached himself from all feelings when my heart threatened to stop. He’s the man who acted fast and collected when he took the pills from my bag.
“Not to kill you,” he says.
“Then why the gun?”
He frowns. “To shoot open your door. I can’t pick an electronic lock, not without plenty of prior preparation.”
The vein pulsing in my neck flutters against his palm. He can feel my terror. If he sticks his hand into my panties, he’ll feel my excitement. I’m not immune to him. The problem is I never was. Even now as he threatens me with an unspoken message, deciding how much and when I breathe, I crave his protection. I crave his arms. I’m shaking in my shoes, enough to want to cling to him. I want to feel safe, but I’m not naïve enough to believe safety is a luxury I’ll ever have again. Not even with him. Especially not with him.
“Talk,” he says, shaking me a little.
I put my weight on my ankle and flinch. Damn, that hurts.
Concern flickers in his eyes. “Ankle?”
I nod.
“You almost broke your neck,” he scolds, and then his voice softens. “Not to mention that running like a frightened little rabbit isn’t good for your heart.”
I try to twist out of his hold but to no avail. “Let me go.”
“Not before you tell me what I want to know.”
Licking my dry lips, I look away. He wouldn’t have lied about not killing me. Whenever I had to go for a vaccination, my mother never lied and said it wouldn’t hurt. She always told me the needle would prick. Ian is the same. He would’ve given me respect by telling me the truth and kissed me while he strangled me.
“Tell me,” he says again. “We don’t have time.”
No, we don’t. Not much at least. I drop my hands from his shoulders and look back at him. “A bracelet.”
He glances at my wrists. “With a tracker?”
“And a chip that transmits my vitals.”
“Motherfuckers.” He lets go of my neck. “Where is it?”
“I gave it to a cleaning lady at the gas station.”
Disbelief widens his eyes before a smile plucks at his lips. “Clever girl.”
Pulling me away from the wall with his fingers still firmly curled around my bicep, he says, “Let’s go.”
I dig in my heels and immediately regret the action when pain shoots up my leg. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You don’t have a choice,” he says, supporting my weight while moving me toward the stairs.
“I don’t want to be a fugitive.”
“You already are.”
I hang back at the coldness of his tone. “I’m not going with you.”
“It wasn’t a request, baby doll.”
I slam a fist into his injured shoulder. “Let me go!”
He grunts, but his hold on me doesn’t slacken. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
Freezing in fear, I ask, “Come to what?”
He lets go of me so suddenly, I stumble, but he steadies me with his arms around my body before I fall. The embrace is gentle, consoling, and it scares me.
I strain back. “Ian.”
He takes something from his pocket. “Shh, baby.”
My panic escalates. “What are you doing?”
For two seconds, he holds me, rocking me gently in his arms, and then he cups my nape and parts my lips with his thumb. He pushes down my tongue, making me gag. I try to bite, but he only increases the pressure until it feels like he’ll unhinge my jaw.
A bitter taste grows under the pad of his thumb on my tongue. The bitterness dissolves as he holds me to him easily. His touch on my nape is tender in contrast to the cruel force of his thumb. He rubs the pad over my tongue and gums before releasing my mouth.
“What the hell did you give me?” I ask, swallowing down the horrible bitterness.
“You’ll feel dizzy in a moment,” he says, rubbing his thumb over my lips. “A little nauseous maybe.”
My breath catches. “What fucking drug did you give me?”
Dipping his head, he studies my eyes. “I made sure it’s not dangerous with your condition. It won’t interfere with your medication.”
I’m no virgin to chemicals. I’ve taken enough in my life to have built up a strong resistance. Most over-the-counter medicine have no effect on me. Whatever he gave me has to be strong, because I’m already getting that floating feeling that sets in before fainting.
“Ian.”
He scoops me up into his arms. “I’ve got you.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
“I don’t—” I don’t want to be his prisoner, but I swallow back the rest of the words with a wave of nausea.
He climbs the steps, carrying me as if I weigh nothing. The door to my room is still standing open. He looks left and right before crossing the hallway and going inside. The dizziness he warned me about hits me when he kicks the door shut behind him. I’m fully cognizant as he lowers me onto the sofa, but I’m too unstable to move. He goes through the room and takes my wet clothes from the drying rack to bundle them into my bag. I watch, but I can’t move a finger. I’m heavy. Lethargic. Floating and feeling sick to my stomach. What a godawful feeling.
Dropping the bag next to me, he crouches down and wipes my hair from my sweaty face. “You okay?”
My tongue refuses to cooperate. It’s thick in my mouth. Dry like cotton. I shake my head.
He grabs the bag, straightens, and pulls me to my feet. “You’ve got to walk by yourself. We don’t want to draw attention.” He throws an arm around my shoulders. “Here. I’ll help you.”
It’s difficult to think. I fight through the cobwebs for a reason why I shouldn’t do as he says.
“Come on, baby.” He kisses my temple. “Lean on me. I’ve got you.”
The pain in my ankle is gone. When he takes a step, my feet drag. He doesn’t slow down for me to catch up. He guides me downstairs while he speaks on his phone, telling someone to bring a car around.
We exit via the back. The man whose bike I stole waits in the street next to a black car with tinted windows. He takes my bag from Ian and throws it in the trunk.
“Door,” Ian says, glancing up and down the street.
The man gets the backdoor of the car while Ian helps me inside before taking the seat next to me.
“Wonderboom,” he says to the man behind the wheel, rolling down his window.
“I’ve signed her out already,” the biker says through Ian’s window. “My men will hang around to make sure no one follows.”
“Good.” Ian pulls my head down onto his shoulder.
He closes the window and makes a call as we pull off, telling someone to get the plane ready.
The heaviness drags me down. Unable to fight, I close my eyes. A tap on my cheek makes me peel my e
yelids open again.
“Stay awake for me,” Ian says. “You just have to make it to the airport, and then you can let go.”
Airport is the last word I register. A staccato of taps fall on my cheeks, but the rhythm fizzles out until there’s only white noise.
~ TO BE CONTINUED ~
Afterword
Dear reader,
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Thank you for embarking on Cas and Ian’s journey. If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving a short review (only a couple of lines will do!) on your preferred vendor site. Every review makes a huge difference in helping other readers discover the book.
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Cas and Ian’s adventure continues in:
Stolen Life (Release date, 18 May 2021)
Stolen Love (Release date, 22 June 2021)
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Don’t miss out! Click on the link to pre-order now.
Stolen Life (Book 2)
Ian Hart stole a night of my life but he took so much more. His obsession pinned a label on me. His lust put me in an impossible situation. Now I have to choose sides. I have to decide between right and wrong. Only, no matter what choice I make, each comes with dreadful consequences. There’s only one way this can end—how every tragedy ends.
* * *
Stolen Love (Book 3)
Once upon a time, a thief stole me in the middle of the night. He took what he wanted, gave me an illusion, and ripped it all away to claim his ultimate trophy. My heart may be physically weak, but fighting to live made me stronger. I won’t perish as easily as that. I’m turning the tables on him. After all, I learned from the best. I’m robbing him of what he stole from me.
* * *
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Stolen Lust Page 18
