His Every Fantasy

by Delilah Devlin

  Reminded she was wearing only a very short pair of pajama shorts and a tight tee, she reached for it, hesitating only when the interior lights blinked on. She stared at his hands, her entire body tightening in horror.

  Dried blood streaked his palms and dirtied his sleeve. His gaze dropped and he pushed the blanket toward her again, letting go the second she accepted it.

  A glance at his face told her she’d made a mistake. His expression was carefully neutral, no trace of a smile left. Not a hint of warmth. Kara sank into the seat and pulled the blanket around her body, looking away. Oddly upset with herself for showing him even a hint of revulsion.

  Hadn’t she known the rescue had come at a price? That lives had been lost and she might be next? Just because she hadn’t witnessed the attack that removed the guards before she stepped out her door didn’t absolve her from any guilt over the fact men had died during the rescue. Intellectually, she knew feeling ashamed made no sense, as though the violence were her fault, but good sense had nothing to do with why she’d been in that camp in the first place.

  Three more men climbed into the cabin and took seats across from her and her rescuer. They sat, unstrapping belts and packs and dropping their gear to the floor of the helicopter. Then helmets came off.

  “You’ll need to buckle up,” came a gruff voice from beside her.

  Because she’d screwed up before, she pasted on a smile before she looked his way. Her breath caught.

  He’d removed his helmet, his armor, and the bloody jacket. Seated next to her on the edge of his seat was a hunk, every thick muscle of his broad chest defined by the T-shirt stuck to his sweaty skin. Her heartbeat thudded. He wasn’t her usual type. Too muscled, too burly, but good Lord, that physique didn’t intimidate her. He was built for protection. Something she desperately needed. That had to be why she was reacting this way, her body warming. And then she glanced up into his face.

  Again, so not her type. And yet, her type—lean and sophisticated, wickedly handsome—instantly lost all of its appeal. This man’s face was shuttered, still, but radiated a quiet calm. The strength of his firm jaw, his tight mouth, the intensity of his dark gaze tugged at something inside her. His hair was dark and long, restrained by a thick rubber band. His brows were dark, but not so heavy they looked foreboding.

  His gaze rested on hers, waiting for something. Oh yeah, he’d wanted her to buckle herself into the seat. Reaching beneath the blanket, she caught the two ends of the seat belt and pushed them together.

  Although the cabin was insulated, the sound of the blades beating the air and the drone of the powerful engine were overwhelming as the aircraft slowly lifted into the air. She glanced toward the parking lot. The other two crafts were rising, as well. The lot beneath them was now empty, the security lights blinking out and leaving it dark.

  Kara swallowed hard, wanting to relax, not trusting the situation she now found herself in. The men opposite her had their gazes trained away. Had he done that? Asked them not to stare at her? Then she glanced at him again. He leaned back against his seat, his body relaxed, but his head turned her way.

  Across the short distance, their gazes locked. He gave her a small smile, then reached into the compartment again and pulled out a box of wet wipes and carefully cleaned his hands, streaks of red-brown grime soiling the white cloths. Then he reached under his seat, opened yet another compartment and pulled out water bottles. He handed three to the men across the way, then another to her. The bottle was cool, and she quickly twisted the cap and drank it down, groaning because the water tasted sweet after the warm, metallic-tasting stuff she’d been drinking from canteens in the camp.

  When she lowered the bottle, she looked at him, wanting another.

  But he shook his head, mouthing, Two-hour flight.

  And no bathroom. She nodded her understanding and sat back, pulling the blanket high around her shoulders. If she wouldn’t have looked foolish, she would have pulled it over her head to hide. She wanted to be alone. To think. But sleep was another kind of escape. She closed her eyes and drew deep breaths to calm her tremors. Her body needed rest. Fear had stalked her from the moment she’d awoken, choked inside the tight fist of an unending nightmare. For now, she’d accept this “rescue” at face value. Let herself hope that her worries were past. Surrounded by men capable of protecting. And willing. If only it were true.

  Chapter Two

  Kara gazed at the handsome man sitting across from her. His large brown eyes crinkled at the corners. A smile curved of his full, sensuous lips. With his deep brown eyes, thick, curling hair, and caramel-colored skin, he was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever met. The fact she was sitting at the same table, seemingly the center of his attention, thrilled her to her toes.

  How had she gotten so lucky? Working as a lowly intern at Kemp & Young, she escaped notice most of the time. High-powered clients strode past reception without sparing a glance toward the row of desks where paralegals and secretarial support sat.

  Days ago, Lucio Marroquin had arrived with an entourage of his own assistants, sweeping past the desks, setting all the women atwitter because of his movie-star appearance and great wealth. He’s visiting his American holdings, Mr. Kemp’s executive assistant had whispered, although she ought to have known better and kept her mouth shut. But she was a gossip, so she confided too much in Kara. At least Kara, the niece of Robert Young and therefore family, would keep her secrets safe even if Kara was just an intern.

  Dressed in the practice’s “uniform” of dark-skirted suit, pale blouse, and neat black heels, with her heavy hair neatly twisted into a French braid, Kara had been shocked when Lucio’s gaze clung to her as he passed, sweeping her from head to toe. The wink he gave her made her belly flutter.

  Just a month out of college, she had been pouring herself into her work, anxious to impress because she wanted her uncle’s endorsement when she applied to law school. Plus she needed the salary. Her own parents were gone, and no one but her footed the bill for her education.

  The fact she was now seated in a restaurant, a very public setting, with Lucio was a huge risk. Her uncle wouldn’t tolerate her dating an important client. The practice had strict rules regarding what was considered appropriate relations with clients.

  Tonight’s venue had surprised her. From the start, Lucio had seemed to understand the need for secrecy. Since that first sly wink, he’d kept his glances so discreet when he happened upon her at the office that even she hadn’t a clue about his interest. Not until he’d caught her leaving for the day, heading toward a VIA bus stand in downtown San Antonio.

  His Lexus had been parked along the street, and he was leaning against it as she strode by, giving him a polite nod, her cheeks flushed with pleasure at seeing him. He’d offered her a lift, and then invited her to dinner before he’d deposited her at her door.

  And although she knew she was risking her job, she’d agreed. The days since had run together in a happy whirl of intimate dinners and dancing. Kara had spent so many years doing the smart thing, studying to the exclusion of a social life, that she was swept off her feet by the attentive and handsome Mexican.

  Things were going well, she thought. He seemed just as eager for her company. And the more time they spent together, the more deeply she fell into like. Not love. Not yet. This was a new experience for her, one she wanted to savor. She liked his looks, liked the sexy cadence of his voice, and truly liked the way he touched her—not overtly sexual, but with a familiar, friendly intimacy that eased her natural reticence. And yet, frustratingly, he’d kissed her only once.

  Tonight, she hoped for more.

  * * *

  A hand touched her arm, and she jerked awake. The man beside her pointed toward the windows. Lights shined below them. A carpet of city lights. They were descending toward an airport.

  She straightened in her seat and combed her hair with her fingers, out of habit, until she realized the men were watching her. How long had that been going on? />
  Cheeks heating, she kept her gaze averted, watching as the plane touched down near a hangar, a man with glowing torches waving them in.

  And then she unbuckled, her stomach drawing inward, her breaths shortening. Tense because she was preparing to run, if she had to, even though she suspected the man beside her would be impossible to escape. She refused to be a victim. Not again. She stood, dropping the blanket.

  “Put that over your head,” he said, his voice even, his eyes darting to the blanket on the floor.

  Kara drew a deep breath and forced her hands not to draw into fists. No, no, no. She wasn’t safe. Covering herself voluntarily was too much to ask when she didn’t know what he was going to do.

  His breath billowed his cheeks, and he set his hands on his hips. “Look, the hangar is ours, but we can’t be sure who might be watching. Do you want to be seen?”

  He said it without any inflection in his voice. If he’d softened it or cajoled her, she wouldn’t have trusted him. If he’d ordered her to, she would have bolted. How had he known?

  Kara wasn’t sure she liked how intuitive he was when she didn’t trust her own instincts. Her attraction to his burly frame and blunt features were certain clues she lacked good sense—her instantaneous trust in Lucio should have taught her better.

  Slowly, she reached down and dragged up the blanket, giving him one last look, trying to read his expression to know what he intended. But her fate couldn’t get any worse, could it? She pulled it over her head.

  Hands guided her to the doorway. Heat sank into the blanket as she hovered there, listening to his heavy tread as he stepped down. Then arms surrounded her, lifting her. He carried her.

  Frightened, she held still, barely breathing, desperate not to cry because she was exhausted, nearly at the end of her strength.

  A car door opened, and he lowered her, sliding her across a seat. The blanket still over her head, she scooted farther away. He nudged her feet then sat beside her. She heard the door close. And then a steady pull removed the blanket. She blinked.

  There was warmth in the smile he gave her. “You’ll be okay.”

  Afraid to believe him, she only nodded.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, studying her face.

  Kara swallowed. He really didn’t know. Maybe the best thing for now was that she keep it that way. “Who are you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I work for a company that provides specialized services. The men in the other hut—their company hired us to retrieve them. By any means necessary.”

  “Your services must be very expensive.”

  “They are.” He glanced away.

  She drew another deep breath, feeling just like she had the day before when the ropes around her wrists had been cut and she’d been shoved into the dirty hut—glad to put distance between her and her captors, but with a sinking sensation her situation was going to get worse. She still wasn’t certain what he intended—whether he was going to help her return home or imprison her again. Only she certainly hadn’t landed in another squalid place. She shot a glance around the vehicle. With a start, she realized she was sitting in a limousine.

  First the plush interior of the helicopter, now this. He wasn’t kidding about his services coming at a high price. Not something she found comforting at the moment because she couldn’t be sure money wouldn’t become a factor in his rescue.

  He rapped the window separating their compartment from the driver’s. The car pulled away from the hangar, tinted glass hiding the occupants and dulling the harsh glare of the early morning sun rising above a ridge of mountains in the distance. Where the hell were they? The Sierra Madres? Could she be in Monterrey? The view did seem familiar. She’d traveled there once with her parents as a child.

  “I’m Sergei Gun,” he said, his sharp-eyed gaze returning to her face.

  She opened her mouth, ready to give her name, but something stopped her.

  He sighed. “It’s okay. You don’t know who to trust. I get it. We’ll get you to the safe house. Get you showered and fed. Find you some clothes,” he said, his glance dropping to her shirt. “Then we’ll talk.”

  He held her with that dark, intelligent stare for a moment longer, and then settled back against the seat, letting out a deep breath and easing his head side to side as though relaxing too-tense muscles.

  Kara continued to watch him, although her eyelids were getting heavy again. She’d catnapped in the helo, but she hadn’t had a lot of rest since she’d woken after Lucio had drugged her. Had that been two days ago? Her mind went numb, realizing she wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been unconscious. Long enough to smuggle her out of the US and transport her to a Mexican encampment, that much was certain. Despair swept through her, making her tremble.

  Lucio. How she hated him. He’d played her from the start. She’d been so enamored, so sure he’d treated her well out of respect and affection, she hadn’t realized she was being vetted. That he’d only wanted to confirm the fact she was a virgin.

  Still was, she hoped, although that was something else she couldn’t be sure of. The moment her mind had cleared, she’d been frozen in fear, realizing she’d been stripped and dressed in someone else’s clothing. She’d woken groggy in the back of a covered military transport, guarded by men wearing Mexican military uniforms, but felt no different, no soreness where it counted. If she’d been raped, surely she would know.

  The car sped up, zipping past streets that wound higher and higher up a the side of a mountain, until at last they approached a walled compound with a set of iron gates and drove through them with one other vehicle in their entourage following.

  They parked in front of a large multidoored garage. A tall, handsome man strode toward them, his long black hair tied back into a ponytail. Her type—urban, lean, moving like a cat. But her type had betrayed her, so she jerked back when he opened her door.

  He bent into the doorway, his gaze noting her appearance then darting to the man beside her. A dark brow rose. “Seriously, amigo?”

  “Didn’t know what else to do with her.”

  “And now she’s seen the compound? You couldn’t have hooded her at least?”

  Kara’s heart hammered inside her chest. He thought she should have been hooded? If this was a rescue, why would that be necessary?

  Her rescuer shrugged. “She’s my responsibility.”

  “Without a doubt,” the striking Hispanic man said, raising his hands. “Dios, what a fucking mess.” Then he turned on his heel and strode away, his black boots striking the cobbled drive like bullets.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she said, not framed as a question, but her tone uncertain.

  The large man beside her didn’t say a word, letting himself out of the car then striding around to her door. He held out his hand. Once she stood beside him, he ducked and hoisted her up into his arms.

  Gasping, Kara grabbed for his shoulders and pushed with stiffened arms. “I can walk.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t. Your feet are a mess.”

  At the mention of their condition, she felt them begin to throb. They’d been cut and bruised on the trek through the jungle, but she shoved aside her discomfort. She had more important things to be worried about, like where he was taking her now.

  She glanced around as they walked beneath an arch into a courtyard, and through tall wooden doors that looked sturdy enough and old enough to have been around in the days of the conquistadors.

  Inside, the walls were a soft ivory, the furnishings dark and massively proportioned. Warm-colored Saltillo tiles covered the floors. They walked through the entryway then down a long, wide hallway to a door near the end. Turning, he bumped her up gently against the door, reached beneath her for the handle, and pushed open the door.

  Once inside, he strode to the bed and set her on the edge of a soft comforter.

  The urge to bolt upward to keep from soiling the fabric was in her, but he hovered over her, and suddenly her stomach dove to her toes. Th
e urge to cross her arms over her chest was nearly overwhelming, but pride kept her still, kept her from ducking her chin to hide her expression. Was this what he’d been after all this time?

  His gaze studied her, and then he sucked in a deep breath. When he released it, he raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not going to rape you.”

  “So says every rapist,” she muttered then inwardly groaned.

  “No, they don’t.” He closed his jaw and shook his head. “Look, we’re both tired and cranky. And you need to soak those feet. There’s Epsom salts under the sink. Use them. I’ll be back for you at dinnertime.” He turned on his heels, seemingly all too eager to escape her. “Help yourself to the clothes in the closet.”

  After the door slammed behind him, she jerked up, striding to it and placing her ear against the door. The sound of his footsteps stomping away echoed from down the hall. Her shoulders sagged and she turned, leaning against the cool wood for support.

  His anger hadn’t frightened her one bit. The flash of emotion had reassured her as no amount of spoken assurances would have. He was clearly frustrated she didn’t trust him. Plus, he’d been concerned about her feet. Was she reading too much into his actions? Was he truly being kind? Perhaps he didn’t mean her any harm. She was safe. For now. And at last, alone.

  Kara glanced down at her body, and her lips drew away from her teeth in a feral snarl. Stepping away from the door, she stripped the shirt over her head, shoved down her skimpy shorts, and then stood still. Her own body was so dirty, the scent made her stomach roil.

  She’d been kidnapped, drugged, forced into unbearable conditions without a single explanation as to why, but with one bit of knowledge that left her trembling where she stood. She couldn’t go home.