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His eyebrows arched. “So, you manged to escape your jailer. Why didn’t you run back home to your husband in Scotland? Why come to me?”
“When I found out you were looking for me and realised who you were, I knew my options would be considerably better with you than with Grunt.” She sneered the name of her sister’s husband.
“Is that right?” Amusement, instead of suspicion, oozed from him. “And did Dimitri tell you the plans I have for you?”
Megan channelled the cheap seductive moves of every reality TV bimbo she’d ever seen. “I’m hoping we can come to an agreement that will make you keep me around instead of giving me away.”
“You’re risking a lot on this hope.”
“I think it’s worth the chance,” she purred. What woman purred? None. That’s who. She was making herself nauseous. “You’re a very handsome and powerful man. We’d be good together.”
It was beyond surreal, standing in front of the man who hunted her sister. A man who was very good at pulling on the veneer of sophistication while nurturing the evil within him. He granted her an amused smile and she was struck once again by his model looks. He was elegantly dressed in a Savile Row suit. Grey silk, subtle and tasteful. He wore an open-necked white shirt beneath it. His hair was tousled but expensively cut, and his eyes were mesmerising. He was gorgeous. George Clooney gorgeous. Which actually helped her focus on the situation instead of drooling over the beautiful package of evil before her. Clooney was way too old for her. If he’d been Chris Hemsworth gorgeous, she would have been in trouble.
“Why should I believe that you would give up your husband so easily?”
She licked her lips as she slowly looked him over, head to toe. “Trust me when I say, I’d rather be here. Grunt is so…” She pretended to cast around for a word then supplied the one Hope had given her. “Unsophisticated.”
His eyes flared with approval. His ex-wife had been right. The guy was seriously into himself. When she got out of this, she was going to send Hope a huge hamper filled with chocolate.
“Well, Claire.” His charming façade firmly in place, he held out a hand. “It is lovely to meet you, at last. You are much more than I expected you to be.”
“Thank you, so are you.”
As soon as she clasped his hand, the hidden compartment in her ring triggered. The pin prick made him jerk back slightly. Megan pretended she didn’t notice, refusing to let go of his hand as she stepped towards him. All she needed was a few seconds for the chemical to enter his system.
He smiled and it lit up his face, making him even more dazzlingly handsome. “Now that you’re here, what do you want?”
“I want the same thing you want,” she said seductively. “I want to make Grunt pay.”
“Is that right?”
She gestured to the sofa. “May I sit?”
“By all means.” He swayed slightly as he took the armchair beside her.
He was toying with her, exactly as Hope said he would. Megan reached into her handbag and pressed the record button on her MP3 player.
“If you tell me why you want Grunt to suffer,” she said, “I’ll tell you why I want the same thing.”
He was amused by her guile. “It is very simple. The man took something from me and I wish to take something from him.” With a slight shake of his head, he gripped the wooden arms of the upholstered chair as though to steady himself.
“You like to keep your possessions,” she said with her own smile. “He stole from you.”
The amusement fled from his eyes. “I worked hard for my possessions. I will not have anyone take what is mine.”
Evil made his features ugly and Megan’s blood chilled. This was the man who tortured and killed without remorse. The rest was just packaging. Underneath the pretty exterior was pure, unadulterated vileness.
He blinked and the dark ugly thing that was his true heart disappeared. His eyes were glazed. “What have you done to me?” The words were slurred.
“The same thing you like to do with the women you take. I’ve drugged you to make you easier to handle.”
When he worked hard to focus on her face, Megan knew he wasn’t really seeing her anymore. He was seeing whatever his mind supplied and she hoped they were visions full of the horror he deserved.
“You should be proud. I got the idea for the ring from you.” Megan pulled the roll of pink tape out of her bag. “Clever, huh? Very Man From Uncle.”
He mumbled something, but it was incoherent. Too drugged and out of it to call for help, he was still able to make noise and that wouldn’t do. She ripped off some tape and made a cross shape over his mouth. Then she wrapped the tape around his wrist and secured his hand to the wooden armrest. His head lolled to the side with a muted groan.
Megan rooted around in his pockets for his phone. As soon as she found it she snapped off the back. The SIM card went into the slit she’d cut in the hem of her dress. The battery was removed and slipped under the couch. Taking the two skin-coloured elastic bands out of her hair, she used them to attach the phone to his hand. With his elbow on the other armrest, phone positioned against his ear, she secured him in position with the tape—making sure it was wrapped around his wrist under the cuff of his shirt, so you couldn’t see it. If anyone peeked in the door they’d see his back, sitting on the chair with his phone in his hand.
