Chapter Nine
Isla
There was something inherently wrong with me.
I knew this.
I’d known it since the first time I’d left the land I’d grown up on and encountered normal civilization.
Danger was addicting. Heart-pounding, life-affirming addicting.
And the majority of the population didn’t interest me.
But a man holding a weapon like it was an extension of his soul as he aimed at my heart and not my head?
That spoke to me.
Deep and subconscious on some level I never wanted to understand, I could feel that metal in his hands and see the intent in his eyes. A shot to my head, which he would’ve been trained for, would end my life instantly. I wouldn’t feel a thing. But a round through my heart?
That, I would feel.
And so would he.
Which was why he was aiming at my chest instead of my skull. Whether he knew it or not, he didn’t want to instantly kill me. He wanted answers, and he wanted them on his terms, at his will.
That was sexy.
And as addictive as danger.
Because men like him, with the skills I was positive he had, weren’t common.
Neither were women like me. Which I’d bet my journal was why he’d made me kneel.
He’d tracked me when I’d let my gaze travel toward the dock, his cell, and his gun.
He’d noticed when I shifted my feet, and he’d read the intent I’d wanted him to see.
I just didn’t know if he’d seen past it.
Because every move I’d made in front of him so far had been as calculated as his.
Yes, I was positioning myself to kick and divert. But I was going to kick with the leg I’d shifted less, and I was going to skirt around him on the opposite side from where I’d glanced. They were minor details, but no less tactical than if I’d broadcast false intentions.
“You’re asking why I’m here?” If I’d known he owned the estate, maybe I would’ve been less diligent about the security cameras he had almost everywhere just to see if he would’ve shown up sooner. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I nodded toward the Mediterranean. “A view like this shouldn’t be wasted.”
In the same cold, controlled tone that was so void of emotion that it was almost nonthreatening, he simultaneously outlined the obvious and made an accusation. “You avoided the security cameras.”
Instead of getting the hell out of here or, at the very least, asking him who he was, I smiled at the unintentional compliment. “Did I?”
“How long have you been here?”
I raised an eyebrow in mock innocence before taking a calculated chance because I didn’t think this guy would actually shoot me in cold blood. Leaning back, I brushed off my knees to telegraph my intent. “Do you mean today?” Slowly, I stood.
His aim followed.
Then it happened all at once.
A red laser dot appeared on his forehead, his gaze focused over my head, and a familiar male voice spoke from the tall hedge behind me.
“Drop your aim, or I drop you.”
Before a blond-haired, green-eyed former Special Forces operator who owned a multimillion-dollar estate in the South of France could respond, a helicopter coming in fast whipped the trees into a frenzy, and I looked up.
Like a movie, the mechanical bird dipped so low it almost touched the ground as a giant beast of a man jumped out, rifle at the ready.
Aiming at the tall hedges as the helicopter arched sideways and lifted back into the sky, the new, armed blond man moved in with tactical training as he yelled, “Stand the fuck down!”
Reactionary, outraged, I turned to run at him, but huge hands gripped my waist.
A double shot burst through the air.
I was thrown over a shoulder.
Gunfire exploded, and the breath punched out of my lungs.
Then my hair tangled in my face as a green-eyed blond sprinted full tilt up the terraces.
My thighs locked by a muscled arm, my shout of protest dying against the deafening sound of thumping rotors, the helo looped around and closed in as I kicked my captor.
My toes hit hard muscles, my fists landed two blows to his kidneys, and in the next second, I was tossed into the back of a helicopter.