No Escape

by Tory Richards

  Her gaze returned to his. “You’re worse than a monster; you’re a bastard!” She jumped to her feet, hands clenched at her sides. Heat filled her cheeks with burning revulsion.

  Raul ignored her outburst, motioning at the two men. “Take our spirited little visitor to the second floor bathroom and allow her to shower and change into clean clothes. Then return her to her room until dinner.” He turned, clearly dismissing them.

  Sarah couldn’t believe what was happening. What in the world had Mark given Susan that could warrant this kind of treatment? Jesus, am I going to live through this? Other than Susan, who would care if she was ever heard from again? Growing up an orphan, she was alone in the world.

  Her feet instinctively found each step as she was marched back up the winding staircase. She knew where the bathroom was, having been allowed to leave her room to use it several times a day. It had been embarrassing, though, knowing one of her captors was always waiting for her just outside the door. Something told her having the privilege of getting a shower wasn’t going to be any different.

  She was brought to a jerky halt before the door, and Mano turned the knob, sending it flying against the wall. Her gaze fell on a small stack of clothes that had been placed on the vanity top. They didn’t look like much but the thought of a shower and clean clothes was appealing after four days. She took an eager step into the room, only to come up short when her arm was suddenly grabbed. She looked angrily into Mano’s leering eyes, frightened enough by what she saw there to hold her tongue.

  “I’ll take your dirty clothes,” he said in a thick, guttural accent, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle of his wide forehead.

  What?! There was no way Sarah was going to strip in front of him, and she refused to let him see he intimidated her. She had until morning to worry about what he had in store for her. For now, at least, she knew he couldn’t hurt her. With a scowl, she jerked her arm free, trying to shut the door in his ugly face. “After my shower,” she hissed.

  His eyes narrowed threateningly. “Now!” he insisted, catching the door with the palm of his large, beefy hand. Sarah glanced past him to where the other man stood, hoping he’d intervene, but he just stood there silently, with a leering grin on his face.

  With a sinking heart, she knew Mano wasn’t going to back down. Swallowing her pride, she hissed, “Give me a minute!”

  He surprised her by letting her slam the door in his face. She quickly stripped out of her filthy clothes, leaving her underwear on just in case he decided to barge in anyway. She opened the door a crack and handed them to him. He snatched them with a hateful laugh, and she quickly shut and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment to steady her nerves. Tears of helplessness filled her eyes, but she refused to let them spill over.

  “Ten minutes!” his voice bellowed through the door.

  Sarah jumped, swearing beneath her breath. God, they might as well kill me now. She wasn’t about to inform them they had the wrong woman because they’d just go after Susan and then they’d both be in trouble. Drawing the shower curtain back, she turned on the water, adjusting it until the temperature was bearable. She stepped under the hot spray, deciding at the last minute to leave on her bra and panties. She didn’t trust Mano and besides, they needed washing too.

  Mindful of the time, it didn’t take long to scrub away the grime and shampoo her hair, but as she reached to turn off the taps the unexpected appearance of a hand on the shower curtain froze her into place. Mano! How had he got in? She flattened herself against the tile wall, watching helplessly as the shower curtain was ripped back with enough violence to tear half of it off the rod.

  Only it wasn’t Mano standing there, but a man she’d never seen before.

  Chapter Two

  Before Sarah had a chance to scream he threw himself at her, clamping his large hand over her mouth and pinning her against the tile wall with his large body. The shower was still running, pounding down on them and soaking his hair and clothes instantly.

  Her eyes widened with alarm. Her first instinct was to struggle, but he held her as easily as if she was no more than a child. His face was so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her. Eyes that appeared as black as volcanic rock locked onto hers with the impact of a predator zeroing in on its prey, not allowing her to look away. His rugged expression was fierce.

  She whimpered beneath his callused palm, trying wildly to move her head so that she could alert somebody, even the goons guarding her, but everything she tried to put into play against him was held immovable. Her legs were pinned into place by his, her thighs and hips shockingly aware of the raw unleashed power in the lower half of his powerful body. Sarah’s breasts were crushed against an unyielding chest made of solid rock.

  Is he going to rape me? She tried to read the answer in the fierce eyes glaring down at her, unable to ascertain what his intentions were by the firm set of his jaw. Part of her mind registered the fact if he had rape on his mind he wouldn’t be wearing a black T-shirt, green army fatigues and boots.

  Did he speak English? Her question was answered in the next second.

  “Don’t panic!” he whispered sharply, so close his lips actually brushed against her cheek.

  Don’t panic? He wasn't in her position. She continued to strain against him, fear replacing the blood in her veins. “My name’s Clint. I’ve come to take you out of here.”

  Sarah didn’t dare believe him; it was all a trick. She wouldn’t put anything past her host, including giving her a taste of freedom while she was at her most vulnerable. This was just another one of his men sent there to tease her, to play with her a little until her hopes were up. She knew a real sense of fear when he shifted his upper body and the arm across her chest slipped downward, allowing him quite an eyeful if he cared to look. A rush of hot embarrassment spread quickly through her. She could feel every breath he took and tried again to dislodge him.

  His eyes were sharp and assessing. “I don’t have time to fucking explain right now. You’re going to have to trust me. If you make a sound you’ll get us both killed. Understand?” The tone of his rough words sliced through the air like a knife through soft butter.

  Sure, Sarah believed him. She nodded, but the minute she began to feel him relax and start to remove his hand she pressed on with her own attack. As pathetic as it was, it was over before it began. Hardly getting in a mouse size squeak, he easily pinned her against the wall again with a murderous glint in his eyes. He leaned in close, threateningly. This time there was no question as to what his mood was, he was furious.

  “You stupid bitch! I’m here to help you! You might not care about your ass, but I sure as hell don’t want mine getting blown away!” The words were grated between his clenched teeth, close to her ear. And Sarah shivered violently because she could easily picture those sharp teeth taking a bite out of her. “If it wasn’t for Susan, you’d be on your fucking own right now! Got it?”

  Susan? He knew Susan? More important than that though, he knew she wasn’t Susan. He might not realize it but he’d just said the only thing that would let her believe, if not trust him. Sarah relaxed, willing him to see she finally understood him.

  “Do I finally have your cooperation?” he demanded, his deep drawl barely heard above the sound of running water.

  Sarah nodded vigorously, praying Clint believed her. When it appeared he wasn’t quite ready to trust her, she purposely relaxed fully against him. Something in the change of his eyes, his hard body growing less taut, convinced her. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, shifting his weight until he was just an inch away. Sarah couldn’t blame him for not trusting her.

  She didn’t have to glance down to know the tips of her breasts were still brushing against him; she could feel the rock hardness of his wet chest. She knew it would take more than an inch between them to break contact and prayed that his eyes didn’t wander. But his gaze remained focused on hers when he reached down to turn off the faucet.

&
nbsp; “How much time before they come back for you?” His tone dropped in volume once the shower stopped running.

  As if on cue there was a loud rap on the door. “Now,” Sarah remarked in a low tone, her glance darting to the door before returning to him.

  “Will they both be outside?” He leaned in close, keeping his voice low and even, ignoring Sarah when she sucked in her breath. She didn’t like sharing her space, especially with a man who looked a thousand times more dangerous than Raul Rodriguez and any of his men.

  There was no denying the glare in his dark eyes as she tried to lean further into the unyielding tile against her back. “Not usually, just the big mean one.”

  “Come on! The boss won’t like it if I have to break down the door!” His pounding caused it to rattle on its hinges.

  “He’ll do it, too,” she whispered, shivering. “Please, I need a towel.”

  “Come on.” Clint grabbed her by the hand, pulling her out of the tub behind him. “I want you to entice him in here.”

  What?! She dug in her heels, expelling an audible gasp of shock. “You what?” On their way past the vanity, her hand shot out, snatching up one of the neatly folded towels.

  “Do I have to spell it out for you, lady? Get him in here and distract him.”

  When he turned his back to her, Sarah tried to cover herself with what turned out to be a hand towel. She swore beneath her breath, glancing up in time to see his eyes giving her the once-over— twice—his lips twitching. Her eyes darted to the mirror and she wanted to die when she saw what he saw. She might as well be naked! Her under garments were transparent and hiding nothing. To make matters worse, she felt her nipples grow hard.

  Damn him! His rugged, square-boned face and the interested gleam in his eyes did nothing to convince her that she was any safer with him than the man outside her door. Her first instinct was to scratch his eyes out for being amused at her embarrassing situation. Her common sense warned her to take care where he was concerned.

  “And how do I do that?” She couldn’t decide what needed covering the most by the inadequate towel. Either way he was going to know just about every flaw she had. Experience reminded her that if she sucked in her stomach it would force her breasts out, which at the moment he couldn’t seem to draw his gaze off.

  “How do you think? Come on to him. Let him get in a few kisses, squeeze your ass. Whatever it takes to get him in here, the door shut, and his guard down.”

  Her brows drew together in a frown. “You don’t ask for very much,” she whispered sharply. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly centerfold material. I’ve never had to play a femme fatale.”

  He looked at Sarah as if she were kidding, or very stupid. “Listen, angel, I don’t have time to stroke your ego. But you have a luscious body most men would swallow their tongues over.”

  Sarah didn’t care, and she didn’t like his crude compliment either. She shook her head no and started slowly backing up, but there was nowhere for her to go. She wasn’t at all confident she had what it took to do what he expected. Without warning, he grabbed her arm, halting her progress. She swallowed the sound of pain his grasp caused.

  “You want to get out of here alive?” he hissed, lowering his face and pinning Sarah with a hard look, a cold look that said he meant business and wanted results.

  “But…” She nearly lost her grip on the towel when he gave her a sudden shake.

  “It’s not just your fucking life we’re talking about here, lady.” Mano began to pound in earnest, and Clint swore beneath his breath. “What’s it going to be?”

  Unsure, Sarah’s eyes darted to the door. Did she really have any choice? “Okay, I’ll do it!” she hissed reluctantly and jerked her arm away. “But don’t blame me if it doesn’t work! By the time I let him in, he’ll be too angry to get turned on by anything I do!”

  “Listen, show an angry man some tits and ass and he’ll forget his fucking name,” he said crudely.

  “Thanks for putting it so eloquently,” she grumbled.

  “What are you, a prude? I don’t care if I offend you or not. It will work.”

  She wasn't a prude!

  Clint opened a closet door and Sarah realized he’d been hiding in there earlier. It was a narrow dark closet and she wondered how he’d managed to squeeze his mountain size body in there.

  “Just remember I’ll be in here. Try to keep his back to me.” With that he shut the door, leaving her alone.

  Sarah stared at the door with amazement. It wasn’t solid but had slats going up the top half. Uncaring that he could see her, she stepped backward to the vanity and grabbed a much bigger towel. She swore she could hear his soft laughter as she brought it around her body.

  Just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard the unmistakable sound of a key being inserted in the lock, and then the door was flying open. She managed to jump out of the way in the nick of time, flattening herself against the wall, her planned femme fatale performance all but forgotten. All she could think about was survival and staying as far away from Mano’s clutches as possible.

  Mano barked something out in his own language, his eyes darting around the room suspiciously before narrowing on her. It didn’t take a genius to know he was asking her why she hadn’t opened the door.

  She was relieved to see he was alone. “Why were you pounding on the door when you had a key all along?” she shot back recklessly, forgetting about the mood she was supposed to be aiming for until Clint’s plan came back to her. “I mean, I…I was hoping to ah, see you again. I like a man who’s…ah, strong and forceful.” Painfully aware she sounded like a robot about to run out of juice, the words nearly stuck in her throat.

  She was conscious of what she was inviting, too. Another woman intent on winning a man over for her own devious purposes would probably have followed up her comment with some sort of gesture, like walking up to him and dropping her towel, but Sarah drew the line at that kind of demeaning act. The most Mano was going to get from her was the batting of her eyelashes and a fake smile.

  His response wasn’t what she’d been hoping for. Instead of looking interested, he looked even more suspicious, like he was trying to figure out why she was coming on to him all of a sudden. So far he hadn’t moved from the doorway. Well, she’d warned Clint this wasn’t going to work.

  She knew she had to think of something, and fast. Strolling up to Mano with an exaggerated swing to her hips she didn’t have an inkling of what that something was. Whatever she did, she was only going to get one chance, and it would have to count. At least she’d managed to snag his attention finally; he was eyeing her with growing interest. Determined to keep it, she pulled back her fist and hit him as hard as she could in the face.

  Sarah was no less surprised than he was at the force of her punch. His head snapped back, and she was certain she heard his teeth connect. As he slowly turned back to her, she gasped upon seeing the stream of blood pouring out of his nose. He advanced on her like an angry bear, his words low and unrecognizable with fury. Recognizing she’d made a terrible mistake, she backed up until her hip connected with the vanity, too dazed to realize all she had to do was step around it.

  “You can’t touch me,” she reminded him, reaching behind her for something she could use as a weapon. She completely forgot about her would-be rescuer in the closet.

  Mano reached for something behind him too, only it was his back pocket. He pulled forth a knife, his eyes holding Sarah frozen as he pushed a button that produced a nasty looking thin blade. He ran his finger along the sharp edge of it, a sinister laugh escaping him.

  “You try to escape,” he said, finally speaking in broken English. “What else is Mano to do?” He wiped the blood pouring out of his nose with the back of his hand, smearing it across his cheek.

  “Mr. Rodriguez might not like that,” Sarah said in a desperate voice, her hand encircling something that was long and thin. She whipped it around and held it threateningly between them, her e
yes dropping to the object only because Mano’s had. With a low moan of despair, she threw the toothbrush at him in a burst of pure frustration. Why couldn’t it have been a straight razor or something a little more threatening?

  The flying toothbrush hit him square in the eye with the force of a flying missile. He yelped and swore, grabbing his eye, at the same time taking a menacing step toward her. Crying out, she turned to see what else was on the vanity, but it was too late. He was on her before she could turn back with a spray bottle of perfume in her hand. A vicious chop to her wrist sent it falling to the thick carpet between them.

  All at once Sarah found herself bent over backward on top of the vanity, with his huge bulk on top of her. He dropped his knife in the sink, his eyes rounding in stunned surprise, before glazing over lifelessly. It took her a moment to realize his weight was dead weight, and then it didn’t matter as he was being lifted off her.

  All she could do was lie there for a second and gasp for breath. Clint removed Mano and stood looking down at her, hardly breathing, his face carved in cold stone. The glittering crystals of his stormy eyes pinned Sarah, revealing a barely controlled anger. She didn’t know him and it suddenly occurred to her she didn’t want to know him.

  Far from handsome in a traditional way, he was battle scarred and hard. Every pore dripped with raw masculinity and danger. He wasn’t muscle-bound as Mano had been, but Sarah took note of the defined muscles in his arms, the broad shoulders and wide chest, the corded thickness of his neck where even now a vein throbbed. She took in the square cut of his jaw with its black stubble, avoiding the directness of his eyes to take in the short cut of his glistening black hair.

  He was far too rugged and hard, yet there was something about him that reached out to a woman, drew her into his intriguing web of danger and adventure. He compelled women to find the kind of man he was attractive, even sexy.

  And hot.

  But it would take the right kind of woman to see him that way, and Sarah was far from the adventurous type. She liked sedate, librarian types, with degrees and suits, whose only scars were the surgical kind. She doubted the healed cut above his bushy eyebrow had anything to do with brain surgery.