Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Don’t fuc—”
Rory flinched when the door slammed in Chris’s face, cutting off his protests.
“It’s not necessary to separate us,” she said softly to one of Carter’s guards. She was beyond exhausted, but she was also emotionally spent, so it was pointless to try to put up a fight.
Maybe they would have had better luck naked and afraid, swimming with sharks, or taking on the Trott brothers. But their new residence was a considerable upgrade from Mona Island even though they were now dealing with Carter Dominick.
After arriving at the tropical estate, their blindfolds and bindings were removed, and they were escorted down a long marble hallway by three guards. Their questions went unanswered as one by one, first Harper, then Roman, and finally, Chris were dropped off into separate bedrooms.
“Boss says you’re to remain separated until he speaks with you, miss.” The man grabbed her by the elbow while Chris pounded against the door inside his locked room, the sound of his anguish tearing her heart into shreds.
“I’ll be okay, Chris,” she called out. “Everything will be okay.”
“Come on,” he urged, forcing her to walk away.
“Where are we?” Rory asked for the fifth time since the Texan and his crew had lifted them on board the chopper, and for the fifth time, she received no answer.
“Judging by how long we were in that helo, I’m gonna say we landed in Puerto Rico,” she remarked. She knew her geography and was damn proud of it.
Carter had probably rented this estate, as he’d done in France, for the sole purpose of carrying out his plans. Whatever his plans were this time. God, she could only imagine.
She needed Chris. His warmth. His strength.
I can do this. She reminded herself that she’d been mostly on her own for years. She was equipped to handle whatever they threw at her.
She shook her thoughts free when they stopped outside a room at the far end of the hallway on the opposite side of the extensive home—ten rooms away from Chris if her counting was right.
“This is the second largest room here.” The man released his hold on her elbow and nudged her inside, leaving the two other men in the hall.
The first thing she saw was a spectacular panoramic view of the ocean.
Next was the vaulted ceiling with wooden beams that came together at the center of the room and made the space feel enormous.
But the king-sized bed draped in luxurious, cream-colored linens stole the show and had her conjuring up naughty thoughts about her and Chris.
Even more naughty thoughts followed when she caught sight of the en suite.
A glass partition served as the wall, making it fully visible from the bedroom.
Multiple showerheads placed at various angles on an azure-blue tile wall looked like a dream come true.
“Boss had one of the women who works here go shopping for you all earlier. Clothes are in the closet and dresser.” He checked his watch. “It’s ten after ten. A late meal, but Boss is expecting you at dinner. Shower and change. You have twenty minutes.”
Rory went to the windows and set her hands on the glass, checking the thickness. She was on the main level, and there was an infinity pool illuminated practically right outside her room.
As if reading her thoughts, the man said, “The windows don’t open, and good luck trying to break them.”
By the time she turned, the door was closed, and he was gone.
Trying to escape would be a wasted effort anyway, so she went to the en suite, flicked on the light, and peered into the mirror alongside the tiled shower wall.
She was a total mess. Just the thought of trying to drag a brush through her matted hair made Rory wince.
And when was the last time she’d shaved her legs?
Dark circles under her eyes stood out dramatically against her pale skin.
And her shirt, well, it was covered in dirt and grass stains, but her “look at me!” nipples still stood at attention.
And when she gathered a whiff of herself—gross.
She examined her feet after discarding her makeshift shoes and Chris’s socks. Not too bad. Chris had done a good job. Only a few sores and cuts.
Once she’d removed her clothes, Rory gave the rest of her body a once-over and was relieved to see just a couple of insect bites and, thankfully, no rashes.
As expected, there were bruises along her arms and legs.
And she looked rather gaunt, her stomach slightly hollowed like she hadn’t eaten in weeks instead of only a couple of days.
The fish hadn’t been enough, or the granola bar that morning, to satiate her appetite.
She nearly cried with joy when she stepped into the shower and was embraced by warm water cascading over her body from various showerheads. A built-in shelf contained a selection of tropical-scented shampoos and conditioners, body wash, and even a razor.
The place would be paradise if she were there for a vacation.
Why couldn’t Chris share the room with her?
Memories of his warm mouth on her lips and skin, his hands caressing every inch of her, felt like forever ago and filled her mind as she washed the filth from her skin.
Thinking about him rather than their current situation eased some of the tension from her body.
She turned off the shower a few minutes later, wrapped herself in a thick fluffy towel, and went in search of something to wear.
The walk-in closet was filled with designer labels she’d never buy, given the outlandish price tags attached to them, in an assortment of sizes. It did ease her mind Carter didn’t know her hip-to-waist ratio. That’d be even creepier.
She grabbed a pair of folded black jeans from one of the cubed shelves between the hanging clothes, then pulled a soft, white tank top from a hanger.
The luxurious feel of the cotton meant it probably cost a hundred bucks, and a quick look at the price tag confirmed it, which was insane.
If the personal shopper had forgotten to include underwear, she might have to rethink the white tank.
Please, let there be bras. And new panties would be great.
Rory opened the teak dresser, which sat opposite the king-sized bed near the en suite entrance. “Score.” She secured a pair of panties and a bra in her size, then went to the vanity.
The woman who’d shopped had really gone all out. Makeup. A hairdryer and brush. Even an electric toothbrush.
Did Carter think she was moving in?
She’d resembled a homeless person for the last two days and, while she had no intention of trying to look sexy for Carter, was it crazy that she wanted to look cute for Chris? Assuming she was allowed to see him tonight.
And what if Carter doesn’t let me see him?
At precisely 10:30, the door opened. Instead of the Texan, it was a man she recognized from Carter’s estate back in France.
He’d been one of the men standing guard in what she’d thought was Carter’s torture chamber.
But this guy hadn’t spoken to her. Or touched her.
So, hopefully, he wasn’t as bad as the asshole who’d tasered her that night.
“You ready?” Although the man had just barged in without knocking, he was respectful and kept his gaze to the floor for a moment before looking up.
But he didn’t check her out. No lingering looks.
And apparently, he wasn’t worried she’d try to make a run for it because he stepped casually into the hall, hands in the pockets of his black slacks.
His dark gaze remained steadily fixed on her face, waiting for her to exit. “You have everything you need?”
“My friends,” she said softly, joining him in the hall. “I need them.”
“We’ll see.” He closed the door behind her, and they began walking.
Rory raced her hand along Chris’s door as they passed his room. She hesitated, wanting to stop and say something. But the man reached for her wrist and gave it a quick tug while shaking his head at her.
“We shouldn’t make Mr. Dominick wait.” He released her and motioned for her to continue walking.
Reluctantly, Rory did as she was told because she needed answers.
“Where are we?” she asked after they’d passed a few more doors. Maybe this guy would finally tell her.
“You’re in Puerto Rico.”
“Yeah, but where?”
He stepped to the side and opened a door to the garden area. “Mayagüez.”
She thanked him with a nod for delivering an answer, then walked past him after he indicated for her to do so with a sweep of his arm. “Not coming?” she asked, looking back to find him standing in the doorway.
He pointed to the center of the yard. “He’s waiting for you.”
From where she stood, the garden appeared to be one huge space containing a number of smaller enclaves—gardens within the garden, so to speak. The walkway was lined with green hedges all evenly trimmed to stand about four feet high, and she assumed the path led to an outdoor dining area.
She knew she was getting close when the mouthwatering aroma of food wafted her way. The intoxicating smells of spices and roasted meats had her stomach growling in anticipation and her feet moving faster in her new strappy sandals.
She rounded a corner and stilled at the sight of Carter sitting at a beautifully crafted teak dining table that seated eight.
He was alone.
Intimidatingly alone.
His dark eyes lifted from their focus on the table, which was covered end to end with a variety of different foods, and he speared Rory with a look that gave nothing away. She did find it telling that his shoulders seemed to relax, though. Was Carter relieved to see she’d arrived unharmed?
He pushed away from the table, stood, and took two steps toward her. Not quite close enough for her to reach out and smack him, because hell she wanted to. But one fast move on his part and he could easily have her in a chokehold.
“Sit. Eat. You must be hungry.” The tone of his voice conveyed it wasn’t an invitation.