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“Goddammit,” the man growled, and just the sound of that one word sent her terror into overdrive.
His accent was North American. That meant there was no chance he was a local thief.
He was the man sent to kill her.
Mia caught the heel of his hand between her teeth and bit.
The man cursed. She bit him again, tasted blood, and he put his knee at the base of her spine, pulled her back against him so that her body arched. He spread his hand over both her nose and her mouth.
“Stop it! I’m not going to hurt you.”
No. He wasn’t going to hurt her. That was why he’d followed her from Cartagena, broken into her room, hidden behind the door and jumped her. Why his moves were those of a professional killer.
If he’d thought his assurance would make her docile, he was wrong. Her struggles grew more frantic.
His hand came down harder. The room started to gray.
She clamped her hands around his arm. Struggled for one last breath.
His hand lifted and she gulped a few precious breaths before he cut off her air again.
“Your choice, baby,” he said, his mouth at her ear. “You want to live or you want to die? Either way, I can accommodate you.”
He was lying. She’d die, no matter what, once he’d finished with her. Still, if she played along, she could buy some time.
Mia nodded.
“Smart girl,” he said, and let go.
She collapsed like a marionette severed from its strings, slid to the floor and let her head fall back against the wall. Breathing was all that mattered. After a while, when she’d stopped gasping, she looked up at the man who’d been sent to find her.
He’d moved to the window where he stood, arms folded, legs spread apart. Morning sunlight shone in her eyes. She couldn’t see him very well. All she knew was that he was big and strong.
Much bigger, much stronger than she was.
“You okay?”
Was she okay? She wanted to laugh, considering that he’d almost killed her. Except, he hadn’t. She was no use to anybody, dead. She had to remember that. He’d do whatever it took to control her, to keep her alive until he delivered her to his employer.
She didn’t answer. He studied her for a few seconds. Then he went to the cracked sink in the corner, filled a glass with water and brought it to her.
“Drink this.”
She wanted to tell him what he could do with the glass but defying him instead of helping herself would have been stupid. She took the glass and drained it, then held it out to him.
She’d play at being passive. Maybe that would give her an edge.
His fingers brushed hers as he took the glass. His skin was warm. Almost hot to the touch. She was freezing but then, that was what happened when you came down from an adrenaline high. And all she was wearing was a thin cotton robe.
Did he know that? Probably, considering how tightly he’d been holding her.
Mia shuddered and pulled the robe more closely around her. He’d be capable of anything. Anything.
“So,” he said, his tone soft and almost lazy, “you want to tell me about it?”
She looked up. He was at the window again, still limned in light.
“About what?”
