His Every Fantasy Read online

  * * *

  Sergei headed straight to the security room where he knew Alejandro would be waiting. Flinging open the door, he held up a hand. “Don’t. Not now.” Then he glanced at the monitor with the feed from the camera inside the woman’s room. The expression on her face as she tore off her clothes was that of a woman who’d reached the very end of her rope. She snarled, whipping off her clothing and grinding them into the floor with her heels. Then she stood perfectly still, her expression shifting from feral anger to abject dejection, the corners of her mouth turning downward and fat tears slipping down her cheeks. In moments, she was sobbing, her arms wrapped around her middle for comfort.

  “You did the right thing,” Alejandro said softly. “She needs to be here. With us.”

  Sergei was incapable of answering. His fists curled at his sides. His heart squeezing, his body taut, he continued to watch, listening as she sobbed. Her misery struck him like a blow, causing his belly to cramp. Her heartbreak radiated through him, nearly taking him to his knees.

  The longer he stood there sharing her pain, the more his determination grew. Her beauty wasn’t the thing that drew him, though he’d never seen a lovelier woman. Her face was a perfect oval, her mouth soft and plump. Her gray eyes were changeable, shifting from cold flint to a deep, moody storm-cloud gray. Her long hair, though tangled, was thick and soft, and curled to hug her shoulders. Her slender curves and neat, round breasts were also attractive, but not the reason he was ensnared.

  Instead, he recalled how she’d fought him, how even when she’d been so frightened a pulse drummed at the side her throat, she’d kept her chin high. Her pride, even in the face of an immovable object—him—had been just as palpable. As frightened and vulnerable as she was, she exhibited spirit, and that was a glorious thing he wanted to protect. He’d failed another brave woman once. One equally as strong and beautiful. And although ever since he’d lost her, he’d kept his head down, devoting himself to building an organization that righted wrongs and protected the innocent, he’d needed to find his own redemption. A way to make up for his abject failure.

  The realization of just how determined he was to save this woman, no matter what kind of trouble she might be in, made his skin prickle and his heart thud slowly in his chest. He’d earn her trust, learn her secrets, and keep her safe.

  His mission, now, was her.

  Chapter Three

  After her bath, the bottoms of Kara’s feet throbbed, and any thoughts of exploring her surroundings had vanished. An escape would be impossible now. Just the trip to the large walk-in closet almost did her in. She hissed with every step.

  Inside, she’d found an array of clothing: lovely silky summer dresses, bathing suits, gauzy wraps, beautiful designer shoes. For the most part, the clothing hung on her slender frame. The woman they belonged to was curvy in places Kara wasn’t. But she did find casual pale leggings and a colorful cotton tee that fell to the tops of her thighs, and soft, thick cotton socks to protect her feet.

  Feeling as though she’d donned armor, she sat in an arm chair beside French doors leading out onto a small alcove, taking in the sight of the beautiful bronze table for two and wicker chairs. Roses crept up the side of a short wall. Bright fuchsia bougainvillea poked between the slatted, wooden trellis arched over one side, providing shade to the small, intimate area, and then draped down to hug the top of the wall enclosing the patio. Her new prison was certainly a step up from her previous accommodations, a prettier gilded cage, although she supposed she wasn’t being fair to jump to conclusions. Sergei had yet to return. When he did, she hoped he’d give her a hint as to her situation.

  What she’d left behind was horrifying enough. Lucio hadn’t been specific about his intentions, but the moment she’d realized how eager he was to confirm her lack of sexual knowledge had left her shaken. Had he meant to keep her for himself, to rape her, then discard her body somewhere in the jungle? If so, why had he been so careful while he’d wooed her? She’d been willing to give him so much more, melting beneath touch. He could have taken her in San Antonio without the added expense and bother. No, he’d been up to something much more sinister, she was sure.

  She recalled their first, almost-kiss after their second date, when she’d invited him inside her apartment in San Antonio. He’d stood in her small foyer, gathering her against his chest, and when she’d risen on her tiptoes, thinking he would kiss her, he’d pressed a finger against her lips. No, he’d whispered. His hands had traveled down her bare arms, fingers cinching around her wrists before he’d drawn them behind her. You should let me lead, cariña.

  A flush of heat had bloomed in her cheeks and in her belly, spreading throughout her body. She’d dragged in a ragged breath, her lips parted. And then he’d touched her breast. Lightly at first, while she’d stared at his watchful eyes. At the pinch on the tip, she couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping a fraction, her eyelids dipping. She’d watched him from beneath her lashes as a small smile had curved his mouth while he’d continued to torture the little bud, and she’d begun to shake.

  Everything he’d done had enthralled her, and she’d let him see her reactions, not knowing she should have protected herself from his watchful gaze.

  You like that?

  A quiver shook her and she wet her lips. Yes.

  With one hand holding her wrists, he’d swiped a thumb across her bottom lip, then inserted it inside her mouth. Obediently, she’d begun to suck it, earning a deepening of his breath, and then a light kiss against her forehead, followed by soft chaste kisses against her mouth until she’d risen on her toes, pressing her warm body as close as she could. She’d been frustrated by his lack of response, wondering if she was such a terrible kisser because his ardor didn’t rise. His breath didn’t deepen. His eyes had studied her while his mouth had curved, catlike, as he set her away from his body. She’d preferred to believe he was being a gentleman, that he wanted to wait until the time was right. That this was a romance they were entering and that soon he’d press for so much more.

  But that was as far as he’d ever taken his lovemaking. As intimate as their encounters had ever gotten. What he’d learned that night had somehow sealed her fate. Because after that, he’d withheld his kisses, their evenings spent talking about her past, her passions, her family—or rather her lack thereof—her few acquaintances…

  Without realizing it, she’d been telling him that no one would miss her. No one would search, except her uncle Robert. But then, she hadn’t known how close her uncle was to Lucio, how ensnared he was in the Mexican mogul’s world.

  The soft whoosh of a door opening drew her from her memories.

  “I see you found something to wear.” Sergei approached her slowly.

  Perhaps he knew his sheer size was intimidating. She began to rise.

  But he waved at her. “No, don’t stand on your own. Your feet…” He came closer, and then knelt on one knee beside her, eye level now, his gaze on her face. “It’s early for dinner here, but I’ve had a meal prepared. I’d like you to meet my friends.”

  Kara held still, her body stiffening. What she wanted was time alone to think. Everything had happened so fast, she still felt as though she was riding the tail of a whirlwind. She wanted to refuse, but how would he react if she did? Yes, she was starving—her last meal had happened the previous night—but she didn’t trust him. All her fears about his intentions toward her rose again, choking her voice.

  “You’ll meet them, but you don’t have to tell us a thing about you. We’ll wait until you’re ready. You’ve been through enough, I think.”

  His dark eyes were steady, almost kind, except for a spark of curiosity, and a glint of heat that kept her wary. This was a complicated man, perhaps a devious one. Inside, she wanted to trust him. But then, why trust her instincts? Look where they had gotten her. She was clearly a terrible judge of character.

  Her stomach rumbled, and she blushed. Time alone probably wouldn’t help her sort through her thoug
hts anyway. “I am hungry,” she admitted. Her stomach cramped. Yes, there’d be no ignoring it now.

  “Cook has prepared a variety of food. You’ll find something to please you, I’m sure, and then I’ll bring you back here to rest.”

  Kara remembered her earlier thought, that she ought to cultivate a connection with this man. If he was her new captor, she should somehow disarm him. Let him think she was grateful for her rescue and eager to fall in line with his dictates. If he became less watchful, she might stand a chance of escaping once her feet healed. “I’d like that,” she said, then offered him a small smile.

  When he rose, and then bent toward her, instinctively, she drew back.

  His eyes blinked. The corners of his mouth tightened. “I’ll carry you, sweetheart. That’s all. After dinner, I’ll have a look at your feet. For now, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

  So she relaxed, nodding, allowing him to gather her into his arms and lift her from her chair. He carried her easily, and she carefully slipped her arm around his broad shoulders, not leaning too closely, but not resting stiffly in his arms either. That ease was something she didn’t have to force. Again, something about his man—his strength, his calm—made her feel protected. The fact he was so handsome wasn’t a plus. She didn’t want to feel attracted, but his masculine edges and bulges were awfully hard to ignore, especially when he held her in his arms. She’d always dreamed of being carried in a man’s embrace.

  Sergei carried her through her doorway and back down the long hall, through an open salon with deep couches and plush rugs, to a kitchen with a large table. The smells of cooked beef, chicken, and spices tickled her nose all the while. Made her belly growl more loudly.

  He chuckled. “Remember not to eat too much, and do it slowly. I’m not sure when you were last fed…”

  The sound of his amusement, at once both rich and wicked, warmed her. “Yesterday, I think.” Rice, beans, and tortillas that had tasted delicious to her then because she’d been so hungry. But she’d recoiled at the dirty tin plate she’d found at the bottom of her food.

  The table was filled with men wearing casual clothes—tees and blue jeans or cargo shorts. All were in great shape, muscled and lean, or burly like the man depositing her into an empty chair. Their expressions were curious, but they didn’t stare overlong, quickly passing platters and bowls of food for her and Sergei to ladle onto their plates.

  When her plate was filled, she dropped her gaze and slowly unrolled her silverware, taking her time to place the linen napkin on her lap, while doing her best to tamp down her eagerness to gobble down the food.

  Drawing a deep breath, she lifted her fork, appalled by the shaking of her hand, and began to eat, forcing herself to chew slowly. A rolled-up tortilla entered her view.

  “We know you’re hungry,” Sergei said, handing her the taco. “Just eat. Forget about manners. We understand.”

  Her eyes burned as she met his gaze, but she accepted the soft taco. She took great big bites, her cheeks bulging, but she couldn’t eat fast enough. Another was handed to her, and she didn’t bother thanking him, gobbling it down before she drew a deep breath, a rapidly filling belly lending her lassitude.

  When she glanced up at Sergei, she saw him take an equally greedy bite.

  He grinned and gave her a wink. A boyish gesture that coaxed a smile from her while it stole her breath away.

  She relaxed, managing to finish the meal without her hands shaking too much. Fajitas, rice, beans, fresh tomato and avocado slices, pork-filled tamales that had her groaning they tasted so good. And red wine, which she accepted only after she noted that Sergei poured himself a glass and drank it first.

  His sharp gaze didn’t miss her hesitation, and he glanced around the table, seeming to share some silent communication with the group. The other men’s sharp glances seemed to take in a lot, more than she’d intended for them to see, no doubt.

  “You promised introductions,” she said, swirling her wine, warming the bowl with her fingers.

  Sergei nodded. “I’ve already introduced myself. I’m Sergei, but my friends call me Serge.” He pointed to the man beside him, sitting opposite of her. “And you met Bear last night.”

  Bear was the largest man in the room, with a short military buzz cut that only seemed to make his head and shoulders appear larger. He’d been Sergei’s driver the night before. His expression was solemn, even hard, but his clear blue eyes held no trace of malice. They remained steady and unblinking as she studied him.

  Next, Sergei pointed at the handsome Hispanic man who hadn’t been happy to see her inside the limo. “That’s Alejandro—he owes you an apology, by the way.” His voice became sharp-edged at the last.

  Alejandro arched a brow, and then offered her a shrug. “I don’t like surprises. I apologize, señorita.”

  “Apology accepted,” she murmured, her gaze moving to the next man seated at the table.

  Another thickset men with short blond hair and brows gave her a little wave. He looked like a Viking minus the beard. “I’m Eric.”

  “Hello, Eric.”

  “Linc,” the black man sitting beside her said, his smile open and easy. “But who are you, pretty lady?”

  She drew back.

  Sergei cleared his throat. “Might be easier if we just had a first name, so we aren’t calling you sweetheart or girl. Doesn’t even have to be yours.”

  She almost smiled at that. Other than Sergei, they’d only offered first names. Perhaps they’d been putting her at ease so that she’d offer at least that much information as well. “I’m Kara.”

  “Kara,” Sergei repeated, softly, as though trying it out. “I like it.” He lifted his glass. “To Kara.”

  She snorted, but lifted her glass, looking at him over the rim, trying to read his expression. Now that he had a name, would he press for more? Dinner had been nice. No pressure, as he’d promised, but they all had to be curious, and if they weren’t, shouldn’t she be much more worried? She wished she could simply accept their apparent kindness. It would be so much easier, but she was still wary, waiting for the next shoe to fall.

  She didn’t realize a frown had drawn her brows together until Sergei bent toward her.

  “Don’t overthink,” he said. “When you’re ready to share, I’ll be ready to listen.” He put down his glass and placed his napkin beside his plate. “In the meantime, I want to look at those feet.”

  “They’re fine. Just scrapes and bruises.”

  “You hobble.”

  Her breath hitched, and she sat still for a long moment, remembering her painful limping to the closet in her room earlier. It was the only time she’d walked since Sergei rescued her. But she’d been alone in her room. Hadn’t she? She slowly swung her gaze toward his. “How did you know?”

  “Last night, you favored them,” he said quickly.

  No, she hadn’t. Last night she’d still been too scared to think about her feet. Her suspicions rising, she set aside her own glass. “I’d like to rest,” she said, desperate to keep the panic from overtaking her.

  “Of course.”

  Once again, he drew on a neutral mask, making her ability to guess at his thoughts impossible. Inside, her heart was once again thudding hard against her chest. She wasn’t safe here. This wasn’t a sanctuary. She’d wanted to believe him, had hoped her nightmare was over, but she had the sinking feeling she’d only landed in something deeper and darker than the place she’d just escaped. Never mind the rich trappings.

  As she was again lifted in his arms, she ruthlessly ignored the attraction that had begun to build. No matter how much she wished she could lean against his strong chest and unburden herself, she didn’t dare trust. Inside, her disappointment forced her close to tears.

  * * *

  “That wasn’t like you,” Alejandro said, as Sergei let himself back inside the security room. “You don’t make mistakes like that. You let your guard slip.”

  Ignoring Alejandro’s mutterin
gs, Sergei went straight to the row of monitors, with split screens displaying every angle of her rooms. She was still perched on the edge of the bed, where he’d left her, having tilted up her chin to cut off any further conversation, although what he might have said, he didn’t know. The last thing he wanted to do was lie, so silence it was.

  Her eyelids dipped, but she looked furtively from the corners of her eyes, searching the room. She knew he’d been watching. Maybe his lapse had been a subconscious need fulfilled—to be transparent, to be himself, although he knew she wouldn’t want that man. He’d had another woman’s trust and failed her. Although he’d loved her, he’d put her in danger. Lost her because of his carelessness. And although he rarely allowed himself to dwell on sweet Afya’s death, his chest tightened at the memory. He hated how Kara reminded him of her. Didn’t want to confuse the emotions he still felt over Afya’s death—the guilt and sorrow—to spill over onto Kara. With Kara, he wanted to do things right. Start fresh. Without the taint of failure. He also didn’t want his judgment clouded. Was he drawn to Kara because he was attracted to her or because her circumstances were tugging at his memories? Sergei sighed.

  Now, he watched as Kara seemed to fight some inward battle, her breaths deepening, her hands gathering fistfuls of bedding, and then slowly relaxing. Her back straightened, and she stood, limping to her bedside table while she picked up every item—the telephone wired only to the interior phone system, a silver tray to hold the contents of pockets, the lamp—and turned them over, looking beneath them, into the spokes of the lampshade, before setting everything down and moving on. When he tracked her to the dresser, he held his breath, because she was looking into the tiny camera, one at the end of a long tube, as narrow as a piece of twine and woven into the dresser mat. His view bumped and went sideways as she moved the cloth. He saw her feet, her belly, and then he was looking straight into her eyes as her head bent.

  Her silvery gray gaze narrowed then widened.