Bait

by Samantha Keith

  He started the ignition and pulled out of the grass. She pressed her back against the seat and closed her eyes. She had to get sober. She’d never be able to fight him off like this.

  Her heart pounded in her chest and her chin quivered. If she let him take her as another victim, she’d never save Hanna. She’d fail. The truck bumped over the ground until he pulled onto the road. Her body swayed involuntarily with every turn. Her gaze landed on her purse, still looped over her shoulder. She wet her lips. Yes!

  She opened the flap and pulled out the slim, metal canister, keeping it low against her thigh. Her mouth went dry and she kept her gaze ahead. He’d hear if she opened the cap now, but if she waited until he got out, he could still attack her. She’d have to move quickly and mace him before he got out of the truck, then she’d be able to run. He turned and a small motel filled the windshield. He shifted into Park and released his seat belt. She popped off the cap.

  His head snapped toward her. “What the—”

  She aimed the nozzle at him and fired. A stream of spray sailed through the air, connecting with Greg’s face. Her shaky motor skills had also coated the aerosol over his seat and steering wheel. He screamed and lunged at her, one hand shielding his eyes. His fist closed around her wrist, knocking the can from her fingers.

  “You fucking bitch! I’ll kill you!”

  Crash!

  Glass pelted through the air, covering Greg and stinging her bare legs. A long, thick arm came through the driver’s side window and grabbed Greg by the throat. She pressed her side against the door, her fingers groped for the door handle as the arm pulled Greg through the window. A guttural cry sounded from Greg’s throat as the monster dropped him to the ground. The flash of a large, dark form crossed over the now open window as the man attacked Greg.

  A low scream sounded in her throat. Were they being mugged? She had to escape. Her fingers found the door handle and she yanked it open. She tumbled through the air and landed on the ground, pain shot through her knees and palms but she staggered to her feet.

  Sickening crunches of bone against bone sounded through the air followed by sharp, agonized grunts. She made a dead run across the parking lot, her weak legs wobbled and her hair flew in front of her eyes. A voice boomed behind her but she didn’t slow. Fast footsteps scuffed across the pavement and she wheeled around as an arm locked tightly around her waist, dragging her against a hard wall of chest.

  She pressed her hands against his abdomen and tilted her head back to take in her captor’s face. Sharp, ferocious blue eyes burned down at her. His dark eyebrows pinched together and his hard jaw locked.

  “Ethan,” she wheezed. Her breath slowed and her muscles turned lax. A chill danced over her skin despite the warm air and her shoulders shivered. She sucked the humid night air in through her nose. His face didn’t soften. “Wh—What are you doing here?” She swallowed over the weight of nausea that forced its way up her throat.

  His eyes darkened, resembling black coals that shone in the darkness. “Rescuing you from another rapist, being you’re so hell-bent on self-destruction.” Anger rippled his forehead and his teeth clenched into a snarl.

  She opened her mouth and clamped it shut. Her brain sorted through her muddled vocabulary but nothing, not even an insult, came through the thick fog. Her head swam and her body wavered in his tight hold. Oh god. Don’t pass out. Not now.

  She planted her feet and met his glare. It took all of her energy not to teeter on her feet as she focused on her speech. “Why are you following me?” she asked slowly, using all of her strength not to stumble over the words.

  He snorted, bent down, scooped her legs into the crook of his arm, and cradled her against his chest. “Because I’d prefer not to read about your dead body found in a bloody motel room tomorrow morning.”

  Every ounce of fight left her body and she let her head drop to his shoulder. Later she could be mad and would make him eat those words. For right now, she needed to remain conscious and if that meant letting him win one round, so be it.

  His hand gripped tightly to her thigh and the other around her back. Her body moved and swayed with every step and the heavy ball of nausea grew bigger and bigger. She squeezed her eyes shut and burrowed her face in his chest. She sucked in a greedy breath of the faint hint of his cologne. It anchored her to him even more, and the tension in her muscles eased. In one swift movement, he lowered her to her feet. His hand stayed looped around her belly as he fished in his pocket for his keys.

  Fire blazed up her throat and she lurched forward. Vomit shot through her lips, splattering to the ground.

  “Shit,” Ethan hissed. His free hand swept her hair back and out of harm’s way. His arm firmed against her stomach, keeping her upright as she bent over, wave after wave of liquid expelled from her body. Moisture clotted her mascara together and tears coursed down her face with the force of her heaves.

  “Shh. It’s all right, let it out.” Ethan’s warm breath tickled her shoulder, his words soft and coaxing. Her body shook violently; if it weren’t for his solid strength against her she would have crumpled to the ground like a wet towel.

  “Guess I don’t have to take you to get your stomach pumped now.” His hand stroked down her arm, chasing the chill from that area of her skin. “Got it all?”

  She swallowed and nodded. Saliva coated her tongue and she grimaced as embarrassment crept up her spine.

  “Can you stand for a sec?” he asked. Her hand clutched against his wrist for dear life, but she nodded. She’d stand if it killed her. Stepping over her large puddle of puke, he rummaged in the back of his truck and came out with a T-shirt and a bottle of water. “Here, clean up with this.”

  Her hands trembled as she accepted the black shirt and pressed it to her mouth. He moved behind her again, his large hand covered her hip, pressing her back to his front. Her body jerked with every tremor and his other hand held out the bottle of water. She took it and greedily gulped the cool, refreshing liquid.

  “Okay now?” His voice was unwavering next to her ear, solid and surprisingly sympathetic. She nodded again. He opened the passenger door, lifted her into the seat, and secured the seat belt across her chest. Her eyes closed and her body turned lax, as if just knowing she was safe was enough for her to slip into peaceful unconsciousness. A moment later, the interior light flicked on and he slid into the driver’s seat. Her eyes fluttered open against the glow. She took a deep breath and rested her head against the door. Ethan’s rumbling voice permeated her senses.

  She frowned and turned her head to squint at him. Annoyance lit his fiery blue orbs. God, he was hot. His lips moved slowly and a giggle erupted in her chest.

  “Ethan, speak Linguish.” She laughed again. Oh god, she was slurring her words. His firm hand clasped her shoulder and shook her until she met his eyes again.

  “Focus,” he ground out. “What the hell are you thinking, Riley?”

  She winced at the harsh tone of his voice but her surprise quickly turned into a giggle. He cursed and mumbled something she didn’t catch.

  “I’m taking you home,” he breathed.

  Oh good. The sooner she was alone, and away from Ethan, the better. Heavy weights rested on her eyelids. A yawn broke from her throat. She was definitely too old for this stuff. She just needed to close her eyes. She rested her head back and let her eyelids seal together. Her muscles sagged with every gentle rock and hum of the truck. Ethan’s voice droned on. God, was he still talking? Did the man ever just not talk? Her tongue itched to say this to him, but she lacked the energy. Her body went slack in the warm seat, the low roar of the radio and Ethan’s voice lulled her to sleep.

  Chapter 7

  His knuckles turned white as he clenched the steering wheel. He couldn’t get the image of her out of his damn head. She had to be insane.

  It had taken more than an hour to spot her in the crowd. It’d been
like searching for a needle in a haystack, but there was no doubt she was there. She’d been half naked like the rest of the youngsters, a revealing black bikini top did little to conceal her cleavage. The gap between the bikini top and her tiny denim shorts left her tantalizing golden skin on display. As if that wasn’t bad enough she’d downed one shot, sipped a cocktail and then a double shot. The slimy bastard had showed her something in his hand and then had taken it himself. A pill. Ethan hadn’t seen her take it, thank god.

  Had Ethan not lost them in the crowd, he’d have swept in right then and there. He’d caught a glimpse of them leaving and had jumped in his truck when they pulled out of the grass parking area and followed them to the seedy motel parking lot. He wiggled the stiffness out of his fingers. Damn, it had felt good to pummel the guy.

  Unbelievable. It was all he could do not to shake some sense into her. He pulled into his driveway. Her body moved with every bump. She was out cold. He slammed the truck into park and exhaled on a sigh. Her legs were curled under her, her head rested back against the seat, her face turned toward the window.

  He didn’t need this right now. What he needed was to be alone, get his bearings, and figure out his own damn problems. Not babysit.

  He reached his hand out to nudge her. The glossy skin on her shoulder was smooth beneath his palm. “Riley, wake up. We’re here.”

  Nothing.

  “Riley.” He spoke louder and shook her shoulder. Her head rolled to the side. Shit, he hoped she hadn’t lost her keys. His eyes fell to the small shoulder bag that hung across her chest. He switched the above light on and opened her purse. She didn’t flinch against the bright glow. His brow furrowed as his fingers closed around smooth metal. He pulled the object out.

  A foghorn? What the hell?

  He shook his head. This was her idea of protecting herself? She was so drunk she’d probably hurt herself if she tried to use the damn thing. He dropped it in the console.

  He leaned across the seat to peer farther into her bag. Her soft scent of strawberries—and vanilla?—filled his nose. Her hair brushed his cheek. The sleek skin of her belly filled his vision, tightening his insides. He exhaled through his nose, forcing the aroma away.

  A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes as he searched the bottom of her purse and pulled out her key chain. He’d have to carry her; no way in hell was he going to deal with her drunken antics right now.

  The warm sticky air greeted him when he opened the car door. He threaded his hand through his hair on the way to the passenger’s side. Even several blocks away, he could hear the roar of the crowd from the beach.

  Her eyes fluttered when he opened the door, then shut just as quickly.

  “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He unbuckled the seat belt. His fingers closed around the slim circumference of her wrist as he let the belt go.

  He lifted her into his arms. Her cheek rested against his shoulder, her hand limp in her lap. She curled against him and murmured something unintelligible . He walked the short distance to the set of stairs, and ascended to the porch. Balancing her against his chest, he opened the door.

  The warm, fruity scent of air freshener filled his nostrils. He kicked the door shut and weaved his way through her house until he found the larger room of the two at the back. He lowered her to the bed, her bent knees fell to the side, and her arm dropped to rest beside her face. She frowned, the slight crease in her brow deepened, and she rolled to her side. Her dark lashes rested against her creamy skin, her golden locks tangled around her.

  Jenny had called her troubled. That was to say the least.

  He reached down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers ached to trail the smooth line of her cheek. Warmth radiated from her skin and her lip stuck out in a slight pout. Annoyance settled in his chest. She’d had more run-ins with danger in the short weeks he’d known her than anything he’d witnessed before. Riley was playing a treacherous game and it was going to end here.

  A low whimper sounded from her throat and she grasped her stomach.

  Shit.

  He backed up.

  Her eyes flung open and she lunged off the bed, her hand to her mouth. He caught her in his arms and righted her on her feet. She gagged.

  Sonofabitch.

  He propelled her around the bed and to the small bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and retched. He scooped her hair back again and knelt behind her. Damn, she’d done a number on her stomach. Her shoulders shook as she purged what little was left in her. The scent of tequila wafted to his nostrils. Good god. No wonder she was so messed up.

  He smoothed his hand over the bare skin of her back until her gags subsided. Her hand shook as she brought the back of it to her chin.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was raw and haggard. He stood and wet a washcloth, then knelt back down beside her.

  “You’re fine.” He pressed the cool cloth to her lips. Her head rested against his chest, her hand curled over her stomach. “Riley,” he urged softly, nudging her shoulder. Her eyes drifted to his with acknowledgement. “Did you take anything else besides alcohol? Any pills?”

  She shook her head adamantly. “No. He tried to give me some purple ones though.” Her knees curled in closer to her stomach. His arms bunched around her. That motherfucker…

  “I don’t feel good.”

  He shifted his arm to curl around her waist. “I don’t doubt it.”

  Her head rolled back and her eyes fluttered at him. “What’d you do to him?”

  He closed his hand into a fist against her side. “Gave him what he deserved. He’ll be fine, but he has a broken nose at least.”

  A soft laugh bubbled from her. “That was pretty impressive…the way you pulled him through the window. I maced him you know,” she said proudly.

  Ethan’s lips twitched. That explained the guy’s screams and the way he’d clawed at his eyes while Ethan beat into him.

  “What is this?” Her fingers toyed with the skin on her stomach. “Feels icky.”

  He touched the delicate spot on her abdomen that her hand vacated. It was sticky. And matched the blue hue that she’d just purged.

  “It looks like part of your drink.”

  She snapped her fingers. The movement was lazy and sloppy. “Oh yeah.” Her hand fell back to her lap. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a shower.” She pushed away from him and grabbed the tub to haul herself up.

  Oh no. He stood with her, and gripped her hip to steady her. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “It’s a very good idea.” She leaned across the tub to grasp the tap. Her foot slipped on the mat and she tumbled forward. He caught his arm under her waist and hauled her back up before she fell in.

  “You’re going to bed.” He lifted her to her feet and leaned her back against the vanity.

  “My mouth feels gross.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. He leaned around her and filled the glass by the sink with water.

  “Here.”

  She accepted the glass and rinsed. Then she reached for the toothbrush holder and pulled out a pink one. He stepped back so she could do what she needed to, but stayed within reach in case she fell. When she finished, she turned back to him.

  “Why are you here?”

  He locked his jaw. This wasn’t the time to discuss everything. “Let’s get you to bed.” He led her toward the door, but she pulled out of his grip.

  “I can’t. I’m blue.” She swayed on her feet, and gestured down at herself. She was right.

  He nodded and eased her back against the counter again. “I’ll get it off, all right?” He wet a washcloth and brought it to her stomach. She squirmed as he washed off the stickiness. He kept his hand steady on her hip while he worked. Her slim waist clenched with every swipe of the cloth. He worked the muscles in his jaw. “Hold still,” he breathed. His tone sh
arper than he’d intended.

  Her hand rested on his jaw. “I like this.”

  He dragged his eyes to hers. She yawned. A smile tugged at his mouth. “You like what?”

  “This feeling.” She stroked her thumb over his stubble. He swallowed. Her fingers trailed lazily down the side of his throat. “But I don’t like you very much.”

  Her words cut into him, but they stung more than they should have. The tip of his tongue burned to ask why, especially since he’d only wanted to help her. He’d assumed her distance from him had been due to a recent breakup, but to hear she flat out didn’t like him ate through him. “Thanks for sharing.”

  “You want to know why?”

  He wet the cloth again. The blue was gone, but the stickiness still clung to her stomach. Being careful not to touch her inappropriately, he wiped at the residue.

  “No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

  “You’re pushy.”

  Pushy. Okay. If preventing her from rape meant he was pushy, then he was fine with that.

  “And nosey.” Her hand trailed down his throat to rest on his chest, leaving a burning path in its wake. Nosey he could handle considering the circumstances of her behavior.

  “Is that all?” He dropped the cloth on the counter but didn’t back away. Her fingers knotted in the material of his T-shirt. Her eyes stayed trained on her fingers, and a pink shade crept over her cheekbones. His lips tingled with the need to take her mouth into his.

  “I don’t like the way you look at me.” Her eyes lifted to meet his. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the warm, fiery yellow mixed in with her green irises.

  Acid burned through his veins. The muscles in his shoulders bunched. That wasn’t a comment he could brush off. “How do I look at you?”

  Her tongue jutted out to wet her lips. A pink hue tinted her cheeks. She pressed her body closer to his. Her bare thigh slid between his knees. His spine stiffened.

  “Like you want me.”

  Every muscle in his body went rigid. His neck tensed. Her eyes trailed over his face, then down his body. He rubbed his hand over his hair. How could he deny that? He couldn’t. His tongue worked while he chose his words carefully.