Though she had no idea where she was, she knew who had taken her and why. Katie Pullman’s last call had held a chilling warning. Her voice had screamed out for Source to run. There was only one man connected to Katie with the resources to hunt someone as invisible as XSource. Source had done her best to heed the blond cat burglar’s warning, erasing sensitive files and throwing necessities into a bag at hyper speed.
She hadn’t thought there was any chance Ivan’s people could be so close. He must have a truly stunning amount of resources all over the world to be able to grab her in such a small and insignificant place. There was a reason she’d chosen the small seaside town in Portugal to hang out. It wasn’t for the seafood. The place was gloomy as fuck.
She thought when she arrived at wherever she was that Ivan would confront her and demand she work for him again. At least that’s what she hoped the plan was. Knowing what a cold-blooded bastard Ivan Vogel was, he might have just brought her here to torture and kill her for turning down his incredibly kind offer of employment. Instead, she’d been left alone for two days, imprisoned in some kind of old-fashioned dungeon with stone walls and barred windows while she awaited his arrival. Granted, it was a comfortable dungeon, warm with a large comfortable bed, reading materials and plenty of food. But still…
Now it would seem her captor had arrived. And he was in the mood to inspect his newest acquisition.
“You are a pleasant surprise,” he drawled in flawless English, stepping through the shadows toward her. “I was led to believe you were a man.”
He stopped so close to her she could feel the heat from his body. She had stood up to greet him, not wanting such a predatory man to have any kind of physical advantage. Not that it mattered. He was still almost a foot taller than her. She shuddered as his dark eyes roved hungrily over her, taking in every part of her, despite the shadows. Instinct screamed at her to back away, but pride held her still.
“Of course, had you been a man, you would be dead,” he said easily, as if he’d been informing her of the time.
She bit her lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to break free. “And why is that?” she asked, attempting to infuse strength into her husky voice. She didn’t speak often, preferring her own company.
His lip lifted in a cold smirk. He was in his early forties with a face that looked like it was sculpted from granite, hard and masculine, with barely any inflection except what he allowed. His body was built out of the same rock as his face, all sharp planes and hard muscles with long, masculine limbs. She’d thought he was a handsome man when she’d seen him at the Athens ball. And now? Now that he held her fragile life in his ruthless hands, she didn’t think so.
“You refused to work for me,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving her face.
“And no one has ever refused you before?” she asked sharply. “I somehow doubt that.”
His brow lifted in surprise, as though reminding her of her precarious position. A small shudder rippled down her back. She needed to remember who she was dealing with and somehow rein in her impulsive tongue. There was a reason she was a hacker. She preferred not to develop the social skills necessary in dealing with the masses. She didn’t like interacting with people or giving them the required responses to their inane conversation.
“No one refuses me for long, little Miss Source,” he drawled her nickname out as though teasing her with it. “And you withheld services from me repeatedly. Refusing my advances, despite my ever more lucrative offers.”
He stepped closer to her as he spoke, purposefully using provocative language. He lifted a finger and ran it over her cheek, testing the softness of her skin. Her eyes flared wide and the breath strangled in her throat. She stumbled back a step, but her legs hit the edge of the bed. He stepped closer, trapping her against the high bed she’d been sleeping on for the last two days.
“P-please,” she whispered, terrified of the giant man. She’d heard so many horrific stories of the international arms dealer over the years. He worked in and out of the shadows. The one story she should have listened to when he first started pursuing her a year ago was that Ivan always got what he wanted. “I’m sorry.”
He looked down at her, lifting his hand again and touching it to her cheek before drifting it down her throat and then her arm. He lifted her hand and brought it to his face, caressing the back with his lips. Her skin was only a few shades darker than his. Her hand looked so small and delicate in his much larger hand. His tongue darted out to touch the back of her fingers.
“You are sorry you didn’t come to work for me?” he asked against her hand, pressing the soft skin against his hard jaw and then rubbing his rough cheek against her. “A little late for apologies, don’t you think?” His sardonic gaze flickered around her prison before settling back on her face.
She could barely breathe, let alone keep her thoughts straight when he touched her like that, yet she knew she had to force her brain to work. This man was brutal, intelligent and deadly. She was way out of her depth and completely alone in the world. There was no one that would miss her if she disappeared forever. Except, perhaps, for her friend that was now in the clutches of the Mexican cartel. She needed to use her head and get out of this with her principles intact.
She raised her chin and said in as clear a voice as she could manage, “No. I don’t work for organizations, only for myself. What I’m sorry about is that you’re the kind of guy that won’t take no for an answer.”
His fingers tightened painfully around hers. She tried to jerk her hand away, but he refused to let her go. His eyes blazed down into hers for a moment and she feared he would just give into the fury and get rid of her. She knew Ivan wasn’t used to denial of any kind. He could buy, bully and steal anything he wanted. He was one of the most powerful men in the world.
Well, he couldn’t have her.
He reached for her so quickly, she thought a blow was coming and cried out. Instead, he sank his hand into her sable hair and jerked her head back until her face tipped up toward his. She gritted her teeth against the pain. His eyes flashed in cruel approval. Her chest lifted and dropped as she breathed rapidly, standing stiffly against her kidnapper.
“What is your name?” he demanded, his cold, dark eyes searching her face as though he could pull the answer from her.
She wouldn’t to give him anything. She would lie to him, give him one of her aliases. She hadn’t said her real name in years, preferring to bury herself under layers of false identities. When the last of her family had died, so had her real identity along with any sense of belonging. She opened her mouth to give him one of her most used names, Pari, but she must have hesitated too long. Or maybe he saw the flash of dishonesty in her eyes.
Suddenly, he seized her by the throat, lifted her off the floor and slammed her down on the bed. The fluffy quilts softened the blow to her back, but he came down heavy on top of her, straddling her flailing limbs. She would have screamed, except he was choking the breath right from her body. His actions were so swift and precise she didn’t stand a chance. He had her arms and legs completely pinned and her throat in a tight grip that she knew would leave bruises later.
Tears rushed to her eyes as she stared up at her cruel captor. He didn’t even look angry that she had been about to lie to him, just slightly irritated, as though he expected it and was put out at having to mete out discipline.
“You don’t want to lie to me,” he said, his deep voice glacial.
A tear escaped from her eye and ran into her hairline. She nodded. She could feel his erection pressing into her belly where he was straddling her. He wasn’t completely unaffected by their little struggle, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. Neither his actions nor his expression indicated he was about to ravish her. Or maybe that was wishful thinking?
He eased his grip on her throat and gave her an expectant look.
She licked her lips and whispered the name she hadn’t spoken in six years, “Jaya.”
Genuin
e satisfaction suffused his features, giving his angular looks a softer cast. “Victory,” he said.
He didn’t mean that he was victorious over her. Her name meant victory in Hindi. And somehow, he knew that. Though she hated him with every fibre of her being, a small part of her couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His eyes cut to hers. “You think you will be victorious, little hacker?”
She glared up at him, hating the way he played with her. She was ill-equipped to deal with a man like him. He was sophisticated, a world traveller. An international criminal and an arms dealer. She might be international in her own way, but she lived in basements and cellars in tiny towns, in places no one ever heard of so she could stay off the radar, hiding from people like this psychotic villain.
“You tell me,” she snapped, arching her back in an attempt to dislodge him. He was so much bigger, all she managed to do was buck her body up into his and show him the curve of her full breasts against her T-shirt. “You’re keeping me in this dungeon for no good reason. Either let me the fuck go or let’s get on with whatever this is! Because I’m telling you right now, I won’t be working for a criminal like you.”
He raised an eyebrow and chuckled at her audacity. She got the feeling it was a gamble with him. Either he would laugh at a person’s hastily spoken words or he would take offence and murder them swiftly and without remorse. He rolled swiftly off the bed, leaving her where she lay. He watched her as he adjusted his clothing, the amusement fading from his face.
A muscle twitched in his jaw as his eyes darkened with something she couldn’t define. “And I’m telling you, little Jaya. I will be keeping you… until I get what I want.”
As his eyes roved over her prone body, she suddenly didn’t think Ivan wanted her hacking services at all anymore. She rolled onto her side and pulled a pillow against her stomach, giving him her back. He clearly didn’t intend to let her go and she didn’t have anything else to discuss with him.
She waited until he walked away and closed the door to her dungeon before she allowed the tears to fall.
Now available for purchase!
Also by Nikita Slater
If you enjoyed this book, check out some other works by #1 International Bestselling Author, Nikita Slater. More titles are always in progress, so check back often to see what's new!
Angels & Assassins Series
Book One – The Assassin’s Wife
The Queens Series
Book One – Scarred Queen
Book Two - Queen’s Move
Book Three - Born a Queen (coming 2020)
Alejandro’s Prey (a novella)
Fire & Vice Series
Book One – Prisoner of Fortune
Book Two – Fight or Flight
Book Three – King’s Command
Book Four – Savage Vendetta
Book Five – Fear in Her Eyes
Book Six – Bound by Blood
Book Seven – In His Sights
Book Eight - Burning Beauty (Coming 2019)
The Driven Hearts Series
Book One - Driven by Desire
Book Two - Thieving Hearts
Book Three - Capturing Victory
The Sanctuary Series
Book One - Sanctuary’s Warlord
Book Two - Sanctuary on Fire
Book Three - The Last Sanctuary (coming soon)
Standalone books
Because You're Mine
Mine to Keep (a novella)
Stalked
After Dark
In collaboration with Jasmin Quinn
Collared: A Dark Captive Romance
Safeword: A Dark Romance
Chained: A Mafia Marriage Romance
Good Girl: A Captive BDSM Romance
Hostile Takeover: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (coming soon!)
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About the Author
Nikita Slater is the International Bestselling dark romance author of the Fire & Vice series, Angels & Assassins series, The Queens series and several standalone novels. Her favourite genre is mafia romance, the bloodier the better, though she loves to write about every subject under the sun. She lives on the beautiful Canadian prairies with her son and crazy awesome dog. She has an unholy affinity for books (especially erotic romance), wine, pets and anything chocolate. Despite some of the darker themes in her books (which are pure fun and fantasy), Nikita is a staunch feminist and advocate of equal rights for all races, genders and non-gender specific persons. When she isn't writing, dreaming about writing or talking about writing, she helps others discover a love of reading and writing through literacy and social work.
The Princess and Her Mercenary: A Driven Hearts Novella Page 14
