“You like watching me get off on you, don’t you? You remember what it feels like to make love to me. How it feels to have my big dick ramming into your pussy, making you scream. You can have that again. I know I fucked you better than Julian ever could—”
“You’re disgusting.”
“No! You’re disgusting! You lying, cheating bitch!” Michael roared, standing up. “You were supposed to give me another chance. I trusted you and you fucking lied to my face! You put a goddamn drug in my drink. You had some PC-5 thug drag me back to New York. I know what you did!”
Mena recoiled, taking a step backward. “You need to leave. Now. I will shoot you if you try to hurt me, Michael. I swear.”
“Hurt you?” A pained look crossed Michael’s face. “I’d never hurt you, Mena. I love you. I love you more than anyone has ever loved you. No one will love you more than me. Don’t you get that?”
The look in Michael’s eyes was of pure derangement as he rushed toward her.
Mena screamed as he lunged, knocking the gun across the room. Stumbling over the furniture and clothes crowded on the floor, she raced out of the bedroom toward the living room.
“Come back here, Mena!” Michael screamed.
Her feet slapped against the stone floor as she ran faster, trying to reach the front door to scream for help. She was almost there. Gripping the doorknob, she felt Michael’s body slam into her. Pressing her against the door. His erection throbbed against her back as his hot breath blazed across her neck. His lips pressed against her bare shoulder, tongue sliding down her skin as his hands gripped her hips.
“No, Michael,” Mena whispered. “Please … don’t.”
Chapter Forty
Julian lowered the binoculars as a breeze whistled through the dense foliage of the jungle.
Standing on the private terrace of the Heliconia Hotel, Adam Russell took another gulp of the tumbler of dark liquor. The bottle of Bishop’s rum teetered on the edge of the balcony, well within his reach. The Palmchat Islands’ most wanted man had eluded law enforcement by hiding out in a sex hotel that catered to female clientele. The hotel was known for carrying out the sexual fantasies of women and was advertised strictly by word of mouth. The location was remote on the island of St. Mateo. Entering Fort Knox was easier than getting onto the hotel grounds. It was a known operation of the PC-5, making Adam’s choice of a hiding place that more secure.
The rustling of the leaves grew louder as Julian lowered himself from the perch of a rubber tree. Uma had kept her word, giving him the exact location of Russell in exchange for returning her key. Not that Julian had lost interest in finding out what the key opened. The pictures he’d emailed to his computer program were being analyzed. He should have a good idea of what the key opened in a matter of hours. Once he’d confirmed that following the trail of the key was worthwhile, a plastic version of the key could be printed from the 3-D printer on his yacht. He hoped Russell would give him all that he needed, but he’d be fooling himself if he thought it would be that easy.
Approaching the hotel, Julian assessed the easiest entry point to Russell’s room. Not surprisingly, there was no video surveillance on the property. Nothing that could reveal the powerful women who indulged in their services or any PC-5 business that may occur there. Russell grabbed the bottle of Bishop’s rum, tipping it toward his glass. A trickle of fluid barely coated the bottom. Russell glanced at the sky with bleary eyes, then turned and walked into the hotel room.
Julian pushed through the brush and crossed the narrow grassy knoll toward the side of the hotel building. His steps were whisper quiet as he approached the trellis covered in bougainvillea attached to the wall near the balcony. He gripped the wood, wincing at the thorns piercing his skin as he rose higher to the second level. The leap was about five feet from his position on the trellis to the balcony. A rush of adrenaline coursed through his body as he was reminded of all the training he’d done as a Navy SEAL. The pure exhilaration of facing danger head on rippled through him. Crouching slightly, Julian pushed off the trellis twisting his body in the air. His fingers landed with a loud thud against the railing.
Julian hoisted himself over the balcony and stood, meeting the eyes of Adam Russell.
“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you,” Russell slurred, as he took a step back. “Want a drink? I was just opening another bottle.”
Disappearing inside, Russell walked toward the bar a few feet from the French doors. Julian followed him.
“Make mine a double,” Julian said.
Russell poured rum into two glass tumblers, nearly to the top, then slid one toward Julian. He raised the glass in the air. “Slainte.”
Julian took a sip of the smooth liquor, allowing the warmth to trail down his throat into his stomach.
“The minute I heard you’d beenabductedfrom Tiverton, I knew you’d come after me. I don’t know how you pulled it off, though. Cops and PIIB are still confused about what happened to you,” Russell said. Crossing from behind the bar, he walked to a group of couches arranged across from each other and sat on one side. “Have a seat.”
Julian joined Russell. “Just like they’re confused about what happened to you.”
“Touche.”
“I met your new girlfriend.” Julian swirled the liquor around in his glass, then took another sip.
Russell chuckled. “Women. Can’t trust them, can we? I’m sure Mena’s keeping some secret from you too. Just a matter of time before she does something that comes back to bite you in the ass.”
Julian was quiet. The images of Mena in the photographs with the unidentified man flooded his mind. What if he’d been wrong about them? What if they had nothing to do with Priscilla Dumay’s revenge? Then who the hell was that guy and why was Mena with him?
“We struck a deal that worked for her. Not so much for you,” Julian said.
“Any deal Uma made with you will work out to be in my best interest. Care to share the details?”
