Taken by Surprise (3 page)

Chapter Two

Somewhere in Cambodia

Rhonda heard the screams, felt the pain. Would the time ever come when she could close her eyes and not relive the horrors of the past days?

How many days, exactly? She didn't know. The hours since Boran Roumduol had taken her and Nancy at gunpoint out of the Chatrium ran together until she lost track.

Nancy.

Rhonda rested her forehead on the cool glass and stared into the darkness. She couldn't think of her friend now.

I'm going to die here
.

No, she wouldn't. She needed to move forward, to remain strong. Should she take Phay up on the offers he made her? Would that prove the key to her salvation, even if only for a short time?

You should sleep
.

She wanted to. Gods, how she wished she could close her eyes, if for only an hour, and rest. She shuddered when even the thought brought that voice, that suggestion to her memory. Veng Kim Phay spoke perfect English delivered in a heavy accent that might be beautiful from any other man. His merciless tongue made it ugly and vile.

"I should find a way out." She mouthed the words defiantly as she gazed through the barred window. A full moon offered light to the open grounds and the dense forest beyond. She would find solace in those trees, in that thick vegetation. She would find comfort and likely an escape in the nature she revered. She needed only to get there.

Rhonda sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she turned from the window. Tension made her muscles tight. The devilish bruise above her right shoulder blade made it difficult to massage it out. She did her best work under pressure. Publishing deadlines, personal deadlines, tight scheduling, everything in her daily routine formed to some kind of time line. Her daily routine never involved an entire cartel of drug-trafficking, arms-dealing, torturous goons who fed on fear.

"It does now." She dropped her hand and moved from the window. Phay had permitted her to return to her room early tonight, shortly after dusk. Hours had passed since then. She had spent those hours pacing this room, mulling over memories and images she wished she could erase, calculating and longing for a plan to see her free.

She folded her arms and looked around what became her prison when not in the kingpin's company. Elegantly decorated in fine furniture and satin, the room might be fit for a princess. The king-size bed with the white lace canopy certainly looked like something out of a fairy tale. The images that flashed through her mind when her gaze landed on it weren't ones to paint an enchanted story.

He had saved her. The fact that Phay actually came to her rescue still shocked her to her toes. She didn't want to think what Xavier would have done to her if Phay hadn't intervened. Not that Phay listened to his own commands. He apparently led his cartel by the "do as I say, not as I do" motto. A bone-deep shiver ran through her. Every time he touched her, she wanted to cut off his fingers one by one, see how he liked it. After all, she watched him give the order to—

Rhonda cut off the thought as bile burned her throat. It wouldn't do her any good to remember what Phay was capable of. It wouldn't do her any good to dwell on those horrors, to become centralized in the pain, to let the echoes of the screams take over her thoughts. She needed to stay focused on her goal, on getting out of this prison alive, on getting back to Lucas.

She threw her head back as tears welled and the fear twisted another knot in her belly. Phay knew about Lucas. The kingpin brought her son into the conversation at every opportunity. He did it casually, as if he cared for Lucas, as if he wanted to get to know her boy. Gods, sometimes he talked about Lucas as if he wanted to be her boy's father! She didn't dare volunteer any more information than absolutely necessary and didn't question Phay on how much he knew that she didn't supply. What if the drug lord went after her son? It wouldn't be the first time Phay kidnapped a child to get to his mark.

"He doesn't need Lucas." She whispered the reassurance, needing to hear as much as feel it, and lifted her head. "He has you."

Which meant Michael must be Phay's mark this time. She tried to convince the kingpin Michael wouldn't come for her. He didn't want her. The truth of that sliced a far deeper wound in her heart than it should. She didn't want to care, didn't want to want him. But she knew she had been sunk the moment she gazed into his exotic eyes. She just hadn't been in a position to admit it. When that position changed, she hadn't wanted to admit it. She knew he would destroy the life she struggled to build, the one where she stood strong and depended only on herself. She needed time to adjust, time to learn to live again. He promised her that time, offered her a friendship, and she let him in. The friendship lasted only a few months before he walked away, leaving her destroyed and longing.

Her gaze landed once more on the bed. This time she didn't see the images of Xavier's brawny frame stretched on top of her that kept her from sleeping. She saw Michael leaning against the headboard, white shirt unbuttoned to expose a chest of dark, wiry hair and rippling muscle, and lips tilted in a smile that offered a world of comfort and promise. His exotic eyes fell down her in a slow glide that drank her in as though it were a straw and she was his favorite beverage.

She remembered that look from their very first meeting. It sparked the same tingling effect on her now that it did that long-ago day in the cereal aisle of the Wal-Mart Super Center. He held out his left hand, and she moved to take it. His long fingers enveloped her hand, the pad of his thumb skimming over the backs of her fingers. Awareness danced up her arm.

"Things aren't always as they appear, Rhonda
.
"

Rhonda heard the words, felt the smooth slide of his voice over her flesh like whipped cream, and blinked. The image disappeared. She found herself standing by the bedside, her left hand stupidly extended, fingers curled as if she held his hand in hers.

"Great, now I'm losing it."

She pushed the hand through her hair and sank to her knees where she stood. Funny her vision of him would say those words to her. They were the same words she had said to him when they first met, when he used a left handshake to nonchalantly see if she wore a wedding ring. She hadn't, though she'd still been married to Preston at the time. Hence the reason she made that statement. Things aren't always as they appear. Why would she envision him saying it now?

Mind reeling, muscles exhausted, she stretched out on the floor. She couldn't sleep, couldn't even lie, in the bed where first Xavier and then Phay had touched her, but she could lie here and stare at the ceiling until dawn, when Phay would send for her again.

And then what? Endure another day of his charming company?

"If that's what you have to do." She reminded herself that each dinner on the terrace, each stroll around the compound, each venture into another part of the castle-like fortress of Veng Kim Phay's home offered her another piece of research that might lead her to figuring a way out.

She didn't know if Adrien had found her Facebook post. Roumduol had smashed her BlackBerry before dragging her out of the hotel. She didn't even know if Adrien would understand the message if he read it. Michael wouldn't come for her. With the undercover agent from the FBI dead…

A vision flashed through her memory. She saw comforting, but carefully guarded eyes in an American face and lips that spilled orders in an authoritative voice lightly underlined with assurance. Those lips had held back the screams for as long as he could manage before the pain became too much, before the knife came down.

Rhonda gave her head a violent shake to rid herself of the memory. She had taken one look at Roumduol's partner and known instinctively the man must be the undercover FBI agent that had helped save Ryan Magee off the docks in Silver Springs. Seeing him had brought her a hope and comfort that morphed to dread and fear when Phay turned on the guy after welcoming her into the compound. The agent's cover had been blown. She'd watched as Phay's men advanced on him, seen the horrors they'd inflicted, and known she couldn't count on anyone but herself to get out of this alive.

"The clock is ticking, Rhonda girl." And time might just be running out. She started to feel that way tonight. She walked side by side with a malicious drug lord, listened to his incessant chatter, marveled at his smiles and the things he offered her, heard the minutes of her life ticking by.

Phay had let her end the night early. She didn't believe he would let her off so easily the next time. He wouldn't kill her, at least not yet. Would he rape her? Definitely. Torture her? Yes, and without an ounce of remorse in his demonic black heart. Keep her? If she gave him his way, agreed to the conditions he put before her.

He tortured her enough by keeping her locked in this room. Bars blocked the single window, and Xavier guarded the door from the hall. When faced with the choices of suddenly becoming a woman with superhuman strength to break through steel bars or taking down a man ten times meaner, stronger, and uglier than she, Rhonda went for option number three. She lay on the floor and racked her brain for any other option.

What her gaze landed on brought a smile to her face and pages of past research to mind. Phay's compound might be built with the durability of a fortress, but the structure was old and reminded her of the places she had seen in architectural plans with all the hidden passages and ductwork large enough to accommodate a human. Ductwork with an entrance much like the one she stared up at now.

Too easy. Too predictable. "This isn't fiction land. You're in the real world." And things like escaping a locked room through an air conditioner vent simply didn't happen anywhere outside of books and movies.

Despite that knowledge, it didn't stop her mind from plotting out the escape. She ran though each possible scenario, and, as she did so, she drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

The soft pop split the silence like a shot from a bolt-action rifle. Michael waited and listened. When he felt certain no one else heard the sound, he eased the metal grate down, using the blade of the knife in his free hand as a mirror to see into the space below without revealing his presence. The room appeared to be empty save for the sleeping form directly below the ventilation duct.

Years as an agent kept his heartbeat steady at his first sight of Rhonda. She lay utterly still on her back, hands resting on her tummy, looking for all the world like a blonde Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince to come. He watched her from above for several long seconds, relief swirling in a dangerous concoction with the need in his heart, gut, and loins. His gaze moved slowly over her, scrutinizing every inch for any sign of harm inflicted on her perfect flesh. From this distance he didn't see any cuts or bruises on the smooth column of her neck or the tantalizing swell of her breasts left visible by the amazing dress covering her curvy frame. Her arms looked unmarred. All her fingers remained attached. The skirt rode high on her hips, revealing long legs of pure perfection and feet with ten toes polished siren red. By the time he pulled his gaze back to her face, sweat trickled down his temples, his pulse raced, and his cock ached with a vengeance.

Michael fought to breathe. What kind of man thought about sex at a time like this?

The kind who needed to know through touch, through taste, through every sense of his soul that the woman he loved still lived.

"Is something wrong, boss?"

Simon Dregs's question whispered through Michael's earpiece. The DEA team brought in consisted of four agents. Michael ordered the other two to stay with the FBI, Cambodian, and Thai operatives on the ground waiting for their moment to strike. He brought Dregs inside with him. Next to Bingham, he trusted the raid team senior agent the most to watch his back.

Michael shook his head, feeling the other agent's gaze on his every move. Rather than speak, he motioned to Dregs, a “stay put” signal to which the other man murmured, "Whatever you say," into his headset.

Michael lowered himself into the room through the opened vent, dropping to his feet at Rhonda's side without a sound. A cursory 360 glance confirmed no one else in the room. He sank to his knees beside Rhonda, touched her cheek with a hand that shook. He couldn't remember the last time he let himself cry. He wanted to now. He wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her close, and release every ounce of emotional relief tightening in his chest. Instead, he took another precious moment to examine her for injuries he might not have spotted from his place in the ceiling.

The dress that covered her was more astounding up close. Made of a siren-red, shimmering fabric, it whispered over her breasts, clung to her sides and waist, and flirted with her thighs. His tongue pulsed to trace the heart-shaped bodice. His hands burned to form to her sides, to grab her by the waist and hold her hard and fast against him. Whips of lust slashed through him as the need built to slip between her thighs. He wanted to skim his palms up the smooth expanse of their inner flesh until he found her pussy. He wanted to lose himself within the comforting heat of her body until he convinced himself beyond a shadow of a doubt that no part of her had been harmed.

She stirred, a restless movement of her head, and a soft sigh escaped her sultry lips. Michael swallowed hard as the sound moved through him in a wave of wicked enticement. He lightly traced her cheekbone with his thumb, then closed his hand over her mouth.

"Rhonda."

Her eyes flew open as if he yelled her name rather than letting it roll from his lips on barely a whisper.

Michael watched as emotions flashed through her large sapphire orbs like an old-fashioned slide show. Absolute terror came first, followed closely by shock. With both, she bucked, hips coming off the floor as one hand clamped over the hand covering her mouth and her other balled into a fist. He flinched at the sharp sting of the punch she landed on the corner of his lips, but he didn't look away. The shock in her eyes intensified even as recognition took hold. She stopped thrashing and lowered her fist. She didn't release her hold on his wrist. He didn't remove his hand from her mouth.

"It's me." He kept his voice at barely above a whisper, hoping to soothe her more with his presence than his words. The room might be bugged. There might be hidden cameras, too. He had already resigned himself to hoping like hell that weren't the case. He knew a guard stood watch outside her door.

Her hand on his wrist squeezed, and she nodded once. Still, he didn't remove his hand. The surprise in her eyes morphed to a split second of relief, but the next emotion to settle in their sapphire depths made him want to keep his hand over her mouth permanently. Anger, razor-sharp and fiery hot, turned the blue to a stormy gray. No doubt about it, the woman was pissed. At him. She had every right to be.

"Rhonda." His throat tightened, and he bowed his head. Getting closer to her, even that small bit, filled his senses with her scent. He missed her, craved her, needed her more than his next breath. If the fury he saw in her gaze gave any indication, he had made her hate him. He’d lost her.

She squeezed his hand again, gave another nod, and he slowly eased his hand from her mouth. He lifted his head, about to tell her to be quiet, they didn't know who might be listening, but the single tear sliding down her cheek stopped him cold.

She tenderly touched the corner of his still-stinging lips. "I'm sorry." She didn't say the words aloud, but mouthed them, clearly annunciating each one.

Michael wanted to tell her he deserved it. He wanted to apologize to her for so many things. He knew he was wasting time. "We've got to get out of here."

Rhonda pulled back, scrambling to sit up, all the while shaking her head. Her gaze never wavered from his. "I can't leave."

Michael stared at her. What the…? "Rhonda, we have to go." He glanced at his watch. The teams outside were set to storm the compound in less than seven minutes. It had taken him and Simon three minutes and eighteen seconds to crawl from where they entered the ventilation system to this room. That left just under four minutes for him to get her and get the three of them back out.

"Lucas." She continued to mouth her words, adding hand gestures to make her refusal to leave clearer. "If I'm not here, what's to stop Phay from going after Lucas?"

"Me." Michael pointed at his chest. He got to his feet as she stood. He reached for her, needing her to hear him, to understand his every word. He hooked an arm around her slim waist and drew her in. He didn't let himself dwell on the feel of her soft breasts against the hard ridges of his chest. He didn't let himself focus on the fine hairs above her lobe that tickled his nose as he leaned in to talk in her ear. If he let his concentration settle on how the satiny strands of her long hair would feel gliding over other parts of his anatomy, he would be a goner.

Who the hell are you kidding
?
You're already gone
.

"He's protected. I've got men with him right now, Lucas and your mother. They're under protective custody." He'd even put an agent on Preston Ramsey to make sure the prick didn't end up a target, too, but he didn't bother telling her that.

Rhonda's hand slid between their bodies to flatten on his chest. Even through the material of his T-shirt, the heat of her palm scorched his flesh. He pulled back enough to look her in the eye.

"Swear to me he is safe." Her gaze locked with his, searched, and pleaded.

"I swear to you on my life, Rhonda." He wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened to her son.

A shuddering breath shook her in his arms. Another tear streaked down her cheek.

"Trust me." He meant to make it a question, but it came out as more of a request. She once trusted him completely. After what he allowed happen to her, he feared he had lost that part of her, too.

Her lips trembled in a hint of a smile. "What kind of fairly oddparent would you be if you let him get hurt?"

Michael closed his eyes as relief ran through him. Lucas had taken his last name and Rhonda's first when they met and immediately connected the rhyming coincidence to the popular Nickelodeon cartoon characters of Cosmo and Wanda.

"Boss man, tick, tick."

Michael looked up, giving Dregs a curt nod before returning his attention to the woman in his arms. He didn't want to let her go. It had taken him eight days to reach the right people, cut through the red tape, and get the clearance he needed to execute Operation Liquid Tab sooner than originally planned. He'd cashed in a slew of favors from some of the highest people he could reach to make the rescue part of the takedown, to be the one to go inside the kingpin's compound and get Rhonda out himself. Now he was here. She was safe, seemingly unharmed,
alive
. She felt like paradise in his arms. Her hand remained on his chest. He wondered if she felt how rapidly his heart beat beneath her palm. Fear could send a man into cardiac arrest. So could the exquisite pleasure of holding Rhonda Ramsey.

"We've got to get out of here." She said it this time, using that hand on his chest to push him away.

Michael forced himself to let her go, wanting to weep when the loss of her warmth, of her touch left him feeling cold and alone. He didn't miss the way her gaze flicked to his mouth as she stepped back, putting more lonely space between them. Desire swirled in the simmering pool of anger in her eyes.

"We'll take care of everything else later." She returned to mouthing the words again.

He read her lips, finding it increasingly more difficult to do when he really wanted to kiss her. He needed to concentrate on the job, the mission, getting her to safety. They hadn’t taught him kissing at the academy. They had taught him how to be a kick-ass DEA agent.

Michael's gaze dropped, and damn if that helped his concentration one iota. How he managed to forget the dress she wore or how cock-teasingly splendid she looked in it escaped him. He got reminded of it fast as another look sent whips of dangerous lust slashing through him with enough force to nearly bring him to his knees.

"Do you have something else to wear?" Did she have anything that covered all that milky flesh, those wicked curves, the legs he longed to feel locked around his waist as he drove his suffering cock into her channel. His cock danced in glee even as he stifled a groan when she shook her head.

"Phay took my clothes."

Fury spiked even as claws of fear pierced his gut. He wouldn't let himself think about what her words implied.
"We'll take care of everything else later
.
"
Damned right, they would.

"This is all I have." She flattened her hands on her sides, just below her breasts, and dragged them down, effectively pushing down his fury and sending his lust to new, orbiting heights.

Michael barely caught the whimper before it spilled from his lips. He knew she didn't mean anything sexual by the gesture. Her expression and the way she let her hands fall at her sides clearly showed she merely intended to straighten the dress. She couldn't know how impossibly sexy he found that glide of her hands down her body.

He bowed his head, taking a precious moment to get control of his senses, and noted her bare feet. "Do you have any shoes?"

The siren-painted toes disappeared from his view only to return seconds later peeking through the toe of a pair of half-inch sandals. He jerked his head up, making sure to look straight at her face. If he let his gaze linger anywhere else, they would never make it out of this room alive. If he didn't kill them both in a bought of animalistic fucking, Phay would do the job when he found them.

Rhonda shrugged and started to speak, but he cut her off.

"Can you run in those?" That got him a haughty huff that would've made him chuckle under any other circumstances.

"I'm a professional female. I can run in anything."

Michael felt his lips twitch in the closest thing he had come to a smile since finding out about her abduction. Damn, he loved this woman. "Are you alone?" They had been unable to locate any sign of Nancy Aaron in Phay's compound. All trace of the older woman stopped in the hotel in Thailand.

Rhonda's eyes glittered, but nothing spilled over. Michael didn't think he could take another tear streaking her angelic face right now. She nodded her answer. He returned her nod in understanding and extended his hand.

"You aren't claustrophobic, are you? It's pretty dark up there, not much room to move, and I didn't bring an extra set of NVGs."

"I'll be fine." Her tone coupled with the determination in her expression told him she would crawl through a black hole of toxic waste as long as it led her out of this prison.

"Okay. I'm going to lift you up. Dregs will pull you the rest of the way." She took his hand and walked into his arms. When she tipped her head back to look at the agent half hanging out of the vent above them, Michael gulped at the tempting line of her throat. "When you get inside the duct, go straight ahead. Dregs will lead you out. I'll be right behind you."

She nodded again, not meeting his gaze as she stretched her arms above her head and waited for him to pick her up.

Michael shut off the images of her in the same pose, only horizontal and naked beneath him, and gripped her waist. He felt the tension in the curve of her body, knew her anger still simmered just below the surface. If she didn't cut his balls off and feed them to him through a straw when they got out of this, he would consider himself a very lucky man.