by Jade Dean
Reaching a wide doorway on the left, Ryan turned them into another hallway and they entered a much older, far sturdier building. Instead of dirt, the floors were concrete and so were the walls. The doors they passed were constructed of strong metal that would be impossible for her to break down. Many had barred windows, giving them the appearance of prison cells.
Towards the end of the long hallway, the doors became further apart as the rooms became more spacious. These doors didn’t have windows, allowing the occupants more privacy. Ryan stopped at the third door from the end on the right side of the hallway. Abby flicked her eyes towards the only exit. A large metal door was guarded by two men. They eyed her lazily and one muttered something that made the other man utter a low laugh. The door was cracked open a few inches to let the night air in and to let the smoke from their cigarettes out.
Ryan unlocked the door then pushed her inside. He didn’t enter with her, but merely shut and locked the door again. It was pitch black inside and she’d only caught a brief glimpse of the room. Touching the cool concrete wall, she found a switch. A weak bulb came to life, illuminating the room that was to be her prison for the next few days.
Abby was surprised to find it was much cleaner than she’d expected. The floors had recently been scrubbed, the linen on the rickety queen-sized bed appeared to be clean and the rustic chest of drawers had been dusted. No cockroaches scuttled away from the light to find a dark hidey-hole.
Snooping inside the chest of drawers, Abby found a few changes of clothes matching the ones Ryan wore. Apart from a bedside table, there was no other furniture to inspect, so she turned to the door at the back of the room that most likely housed the bathroom.
Pushing the door open, she was again surprised at the cleanliness. The tiled walls and floor had turned off-white with age, but they weren’t grimy. Rust stained the basin and the water was discolored when she turned the tap on. Abby knew not to drink the water in South America, unless it came from an unopened bottle that had been imported from another country. She used the washer to clean her face and hands then returned to the bedroom.
A single window above the bed had been covered by a dark blanket. Standing beside the bed, she lifted a corner of the blanket and peered outside. It was too dark to see anything and the glass reflected the weak light back at her. Adjusting the blanket so that it blocked the light, her eyes focused on the bars on the other side of the glass. There would be no escape from that direction even if the window hadn’t already been nailed shut.
The bedside table had two deep drawers. Peeking inside the top drawer, her eyebrows rose when she saw several pairs of handcuffs. A short length of fabric, that had probably been torn from a shirt, looked like it would make an effective gag. She wasn’t sure if the items belonged to Ryan or to the former occupant of the room. Half expecting to see a variety of sex toys, she was relieved when the second drawer was empty.
As she took a seat on the bed, the springs squealed softly in protest. The mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable, but it was better than sitting on the floor. Propping a pillow behind her back, Abby calculated her chances of escape. She’d have to pick the lock on the door, disable two armed men guarding the exit and make her way back through the jungle with somewhere near forty men in pursuit. They weren’t great odds, but she’d actually faced worse. She hadn’t been alone back then and had had a team to back her up. Those days were long gone and she had no one to watch her back now.
Ryan had promised to keep her safe and she found herself wanting to believe him. It had been a long time since she’d been able to trust anyone, but something about him made her want to try. Maybe she saw something in him that she saw every time she looked in the mirror; a lonely renegade soul in search of a kindred spirit.
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Chapter Four
Ryan strode away from his bedroom before temptation got the better of him. It had been two years since his wife had been murdered. Subconsciously punishing himself, he hadn’t slept with another woman since the night that he’d lost Miranda. Logically, he knew that he wasn’t directly to blame for her death, but guilt stained his soul anyway. His job as an undercover agent with the Special Ops Branch, or SOB as it was affectionately called by its employees, had gotten her killed.
Walking away from his far too attractive captive, Ryan recalled the events that had led to Miranda’s death all too well. His team had been hunting Diego Montoya, a Brazilian drug lord, for months. They’d finally been given a tip telling them where he’d be conducting a business transaction. Ryan’s team had arrived near the end of the illicit exchange of drugs and money. Only when they’d moved in to take their quarry down did they discover that it was a trap and that Montoya was waiting for them. Someone had in turn tipped off their target and their raid had been turned against them.
Ryan’s right hand moved to his left shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing the long healed wound that he’d received that night. He didn’t know who had betrayed them, but they’d cost the entire team far too much pain and anguish. The same night that they’d conducted their raid, several of their families had been attacked. Ryan’s wife wasn’t the only casualty that had resulted from the traitor ratting them out. Three of his co-workers wives and children had also been eradicated to make the squad back off.
Even that hadn’t been enough incentive for the leader of their agency to call off his hunt. It had taken the kidnapping of his daughter before Trevor Watts had called a halt to their hunt. She’d eventually been returned alive, but her mind had been altered forever by the sexual abuse that she’d suffered. At least Miranda had been spared that fate. She’d simply been run down in the street like a dog and left to die. He’d been in the hospital being operated on while she’d been in a room on another floor being pronounced dead.
Ryan gritted his teeth and clenched his hands to stop himself from howling out his misery and anger. He wanted to tear the throat out of every single man in this compound, but that would compromise his personal mission. For the first year after his wife’s murder, Ryan had continued to do his job. He’d recruited new members to replace the three men who’d lost their entire families. One of the men had committed suicide and the other two had quit and disappeared. Presumably they’d begun new lives in a far less dangerous field of work.
Towards the anniversary of Miranda’s death, Ryan had begun to obsess about the man who had killed her. He might not have driven the car himself, but Diego Montoya had ordered the hit. Trevor had forbidden anyone from hunting down the man that had caused so much tragedy amongst their team. Montoya had proven to be too dangerous a target even for them to destroy.
Despite the order to let it drop, Ryan couldn’t let it go. Walking away from his job had ensured that he would become a hunted man himself, but his obsession wouldn’t let him sleep at night. He had to make Montoya pay, not just for Miranda but for the other men, women and children whose lives had been ruined.
Changing his hair and eye color, Ryan had travelled to Rio and had infiltrated the bandit gang and had begun hunting his target. It had taken a full year for him to reach the level where he could be trusted to finally meet the boss in person. The man would be here in just four more nights. Ryan would finally get to look Montoya in the eyes again and this time he would send him to hell.
Women shivered and pulled back into the shadows when they saw Alejandro’s expression. They were all surprised that he’d brought a white woman back from his latest raid. He’d never showed an interest in taking a captive before. He was driven by passions that none of them understood.
Striding down the main hall, Ryan turned into the only open doorway and stepped into their makeshift meeting area. A hodgepodge of mismatched chairs had been arranged into a loose circle around a collection of battered tables. His chosen chair was actually a car seat. It was the only piece of furniture that had a back that was long enough to accommodate his height.
Marcos looked at Alejandro in fake surprise as he took a seat and made a show of
checking his watch. “That was fast, my friend! Was the woman not to your satisfaction?”
Some of the others laughed, torn between their fear of Alejandro and of looking bad in front of Marcos. The two outlaw leaders were deadly in their own way, but Alejandro’s cold eyes could make the bowels turn weak with just one glance.
“She can wait,” Ryan said carelessly. “Don’t we have business to discuss?”
Seeing he wasn’t going to be able to rile his rival into a fight, Marcos shrugged and let it go. He was jealous of the younger, much more handsome man and he didn’t trust him. Alejandro had come from out of nowhere a year ago and had swiftly worked his way up the ranks. He was a stone cold killer of any man that challenged him, yet he refused to kill women and children. He’d even banned his men from raping their captives, which most considered to be their right. After four rapists had been shot in the head, the rest had decided it wasn’t worth the risk just to taste a fresh woman every now and then.
Alejandro was a paradox that Marcos didn’t want to puzzle out, he just wanted him dead. He’d tried to tell Diego that Alejandro was bad news, but his boss had just laughed and said that he would decide what to do with the man once they came face to face with each other. Marcos sincerely hoped his boss would decide the younger man wasn’t trustworthy and would order his death. He’d be only too happy to pull the trigger.
The six bandito leaders went quiet as several women handed out food and beer. Ryan barely tasted the spicy meal. Most food tasted like ashes to him ever since he’d lost Miranda. He washed it down with the cheap local beer that most of the criminals seemed to enjoy.
As the senior team leader, Marcos led their conversation. They discussed the villages that were under their thumb and the money they were making from their various scams. Diego had many operations running all across Rio and beyond, and he was always looking for ways to expand his empire.
Ryan rarely contributed to the discussion, offering his opinion only when he felt it was warranted. While he appeared to be engaged with his fellow leaders, his mind was on long brown hair and dark gray eyes.
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Chapter Five
Abby lay on her side on top of the covers rather than beneath them. She wanted to be able to move quickly if she had to. Being trapped beneath the sheet and light blanket would hamper her movements.
Dozing lightly, she was alert for any nearby sounds. She came awake when she heard a key in the lock and sat up as the door was pushed open. Apart from her boots, which sat on the floor beside the bed, she was fully clothed.
Recognizing the outline of Ryan standing in the door, she relaxed slightly. He stepped inside and closed the door, leaving the light off as he locked it. She tracked his almost silent progress as he walked across the room in total darkness. He bypassed the bed and headed for the bathroom.
Ryan could sense Abby sitting so still and quiet on the bed. He’d only had a brief glimpse of her as he’d entered the bedroom, but that had been enough to get him rock hard. She’d let her hair down and it tumbled around her in a shiny waterfall. He wanted nothing more than to plunge his hands in her hair and his erection into her body. Clearly, it had been far too long since he’d had sex and his body wasn’t happy about being denied.
Flicking on the bathroom light, he used the facilities then washed his hands. He couldn’t meet his eyes in the mirror because he knew what he would see if he did; guilt. This time it wouldn’t just be guilt over Miranda’s death, he would also see remorse for betraying her memory. He’d always prided himself on his strength of will and self-control, but the instant that he lay down next to Abby he knew that his will would drain away and his long suppressed needs would take over.
Abby stood when Ryan reappeared. He left the bathroom door open and enough light filtered into the room to make out his expression. She involuntarily backed away until she hit the wall as he stalked her like a panther. His eyes were shadowed, but she saw his raw need and felt herself responding in kind. She didn’t know him, but she felt a strange connection to him, as if she’d been waiting for him to walk into her life without even realizing it.
Coming to a stop inches away from Abby, Ryan stared down into her wide gray eyes. “I’m sorry to have to do this,” he said in a bare whisper. “I have to make it look like I’m raping you in case someone is watching,” he said and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I won’t enter you,” he promised then pushed her over to the bed.
Abby had been in this situation several times before, but she’d never let a man get the better of her. She could have broken free and attempted to render Ryan unconscious, yet she allowed him to drag her over to the bed with only minimal resistance. He pushed her onto her stomach and held her down with a hand on her back as he removed his pants. She turned her head so she could watch him. He’d gone without underwear and his erection sprang clear. Her knees went weak at the thought of him sliding his length inside her and her breath quickened. It was probably sick and twisted, but she found his size and strength exciting rather than frightening.
Ryan flipped Abby over onto her back and caught her hands when she tried to stop him from taking her pants off. He held her two hands with one of his easily as he undid her jeans and slid them down to her knees. Letting her hands go, they clutched the blanket, but she made no further protests as he tugged her jeans the rest of the way down her feet.
Trepidation and a flicker of lust curled inside Abby’s stomach as Ryan ran his eyes from her feet up to her face then down again, stopping at her panties. She squeezed her thighs together as he began sliding them down her legs. He inserted a knee between hers and nudged her legs open enough to drag her panties all the way down to her feet.
Ryan allowed himself to stare at Abby’s smooth, toned legs and his eyes travelled up to her neatly waxed and tidily trimmed pussy. She watched him with total confidence, trusting that he wouldn’t violate her. It was almost more than he could bear.
Abby saw the tight control that Ryan was holding onto by a thread and didn’t protest when he turned her over onto her stomach. Grabbing her by her hips, he pulled her back until her legs were dangling over the side of the bed. She sucked in a breath when his knees nudged her thighs apart and his erection teased her opening. She almost wished that he’d break his promise and that he’d plunge himself into her. Instead of pounding himself inside her, he lifted her hips so he could slide beneath her.
He didn’t penetrate her, but he might as well have because this was pretty damn close to having sex as far as she was concerned. His cock rubbed against her clit and his hands roamed from her thighs to grip her ass as he thrust against her. Fisting her hands in the blanket, she held in her moans and lay still instead of planting her feet on the ground and rubbing against him like she wanted to. If someone was watching through an unseen hole in the wall, she had to pretend to be traumatized rather than extremely aroused by what he was doing to her.
Ryan closed his eyes against the sight of Abby’s tight, firm ass right in front of him. He slid along her opening, so close to entering her, but refusing to allow himself to. He’d never pretended to rape a woman before and he felt dirty at forcing himself on a helpless female now. Abby gave a strangled sound as he increased his pace and he hated himself for doing this to her, but he couldn’t stop now.
Feeling Ryan rubbing against her pussy as his hands stroked and squeezed her ass was the most erotic sensation that Abby had ever experienced. Her trust issues made sure she was usually single and she could barely remember the last time she’d allowed a man to take her. Holding herself very still, she couldn’t completely smother her moan when Ryan spread her legs wider and began to thrust against her faster. Heat rose in her core and she knew she was going to come. A few more thrusts did the trick and she pressed her face into the mattress and let out a low moan as bursts of pleasure flared in her center.
Wishing Abby’s response had been from ecstasy rather than revulsion, Ryan couldn’t fight the pleasure that he felt from holding he
r down and rubbing himself against her. Her whole body tightened beneath him then she went limp just as he reached the end of his control. Pulling away, he grabbed his shaft and stroked himself a few times until he came. At least he’d kept his promise and hadn’t violated her body completely. He’d just irreparably scarred her mind instead.
Lying on her stomach with her legs still open, Abby throbbed in the aftermath of her orgasm. Ryan had shot his load on the floor rather than all over her, for which she was thankful. She’d taken a quick shower earlier and had no wish to step beneath the tepid water twice in one night.
While her captor was occupied in the bathroom, Abby got dressed again and this time she slipped beneath the covers. Ryan had kept his word and hadn’t entered her. She trusted him to keep her safe while he was sharing the room with her.
Loathing himself for what he’d just done to Abby, Ryan washed away the grime of the day, but he didn’t wash his hair. It was greasy and smelly but the dye would last for a lot longer if he didn’t wash it very frequently. Drying off, he retrieved a change of clothing and donned underwear this time before turning off the bathroom light and climbing into bed beside his prisoner. The more barriers there were between them, the safer she’d be from him.
“I’m sorry, Abby,” he whispered and carefully kept his distance from her. He was certain that the last thing she’d want was for him to touch her.
Hearing the misery in Ryan’s tone, Abby realized he didn’t know that he’d given her an orgasm. “Don’t be,” she whispered back. “You didn’t hurt me and I’m ok. Just think of what the other men would have done to me.”
She had a point, but Ryan still couldn’t condone what he’d done. They would have to endure two more nights in each other’s company before Diego would arrive and he could finally finish the mission that had consumed him for the past year.
