Her scent fills my nose. Just the faintest hint of perfume. Sweet, floral, fragrant.
One more thing that getting close to me will destroy.
She doesn’t wake as I carefully step down the plane and onto the stairs. But when the first ray of dawn sunlight hits her eyes, she stirs.
Slowly and timidly, her eyes open. She shields her face against the sun and whimpers.
Perhaps Cillian was right. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I first feared. Maybe she’ll come softly into her new life and I won’t have to do terrible things to force her compliance.
I watch as Esme tries to make sense of her surroundings. We’re on a private airstrip outside of Los Angeles. California sun shining from a clear blue sky.
I wonder how long it will take her to realize she’s never going home again.
Right as my foot hits the tarmac, recognition strikes Esme.
She pales.
“Let me go!” she gasps. “Don’t touch me, motherfucker.”
She starts struggling immediately, thrashing around in my arms.
So much for coming softly.
But the sedative is still in her system. Weakening her muscles, slowing her reactions.
I sigh loudly and hoist her up over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She screams at the undignified position and starts slamming her delicate little fists against my back.
She’s throwing obscenities and insults my way, but all of it just makes me smile.
So much for soft and timid, too. She’s a hellcat, deep down. Much feistier than I’ve given her credit for.
I give her ass a hard smack and she curses me out all over again.
“Act like a fucking brat,” I tell her calmly, “and I’ll treat you like one.”
All she does is scream in response.
16
Esme
The bastard.
The asshole.
The motherfucking murderer.
I claw at his back but I may as well be banging against a brick wall for all the good it’s doing.
Artem completely ignores me as he strides across the tarmac towards a huge, sleek vehicle.
The wind bites at my exposed legs and thighs. Whatever poison his goons stuck me with is still clouding my thoughts pretty badly.
Though, not so badly that I’m not pissed as hell.
I may not be capable of fully processing everything that’s going on around me in the last few hours. But I’m sure as hell furious that he is handling me like a ragdoll.
“Let me go, asshole!” I scream.
Artem’s answer is to open the car door and hurl me inside like useless cargo.
I hit the seat with an oof, but the landing is softer than I expect, thanks to the plush leather seats.
I open my mouth to yell some more curses at him, but before I can get my bearings, he flings a coat that hits me square in the face.
Then he slams the door on me before I find my voice again.
The coat is huge and I know immediately it’s his. It smells of him—that heady, woody scent that I used to dream about at night these last four months before falling asleep.
I never knew those sleeping dreams would turn into a waking nightmare.
I go to open the door and make a run for it—where I’d run, I have no fucking clue, but I’m sure as fuck not gonna sit here like a good little girl and let him cart me off to God knows where.
But the handle is locked.
I yank at it with two hands. It rattles but refuses to budge.
I scream.
All it does is bounce around the empty vehicle and make my ears hurt.
Fine. New plan.
Glancing up, I see that the keys are in the ignition.
Bingo.
I start to clamber over the divider to get in the driver’s seat and put the pedal to the metal. Driving off is better than running away, anyhow.
That plan doesn’t last long, either.
I’m halfway over the center console when the back door opens again. Artem sticks his head in, sees me wriggling my way to freedom, and lets out a weary, exasperated sigh.
“Tsk, tsk,” he mumbles.
Reaching over, he grabs my ankle and tugs me back into the rear seat.
Once again, I land with an oof.
Once again, he grabs the coat I dropped and throws it in my face.
“Sit down and shut up,” he orders.
I get ready to tell him what I think of that particular set of instructions, but before I can find the words, the door on the other side opens and another man gets in.
This one is tall and broad with a shaved head, dark sunglasses, and a gun in a holster at his side. He looks even less friendly than Artem. Like a villainous mob goon straight out of central casting.
The goon looks up at Artem with an arched eyebrow as if asking permission. Artem sighs and waves a hand as if to say, Go ahead.
At that cue, the man pins me back against the seat with one meaty paw.
With his other hand, he makes quick work of my buckle. Hardly even notices as I thrash and scream against his hand pressing into my torso.
When the buckle clicks, I realize I’m trapped. All the fight goes out of me and the scream dies on my lips.
“That’s a good girl,” Artem murmurs when I’m quiet again. “You were starting to give me a headache with all that screaming.”
Up front, the car door opens and another suited goon climbs into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t look back as he starts up the car and we go careening out of the airfield.
“You realize you’re abducting me, right?” I ask Artem once we’re underway. He’s gazing out of the window, ignoring me as I glare at his face in profile. “Which is illegal. Just telling you as a heads up, you know. You don’t seem like the type who likes cops.”
He doesn’t look at me but he scoffs with derision. “I suppose you would know quite a lot about what’s legal and what’s not.”
“My dad was the criminal. Not me.”
“True, but you’re the one paying for his sins. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“You can’t do this,” I hiss. “Let me go.”
He closes his eyes for a moment
