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Those are not agents.
“Who the hell are you guys?”
They were tall, towering higher than any agent she’d ever seen, and they werebig. Dressed in all black, the telltale bulges of sidearms at their waists hidden under suitcoats, she knew in her heart that they were Wolf Nation. Because the pair of them looked identical to the security detail that had accompanied the alpha to the auction. The same auction she and Karen had fled from.
Oh shit.
She spun around in her chair, glaring at Scanlon. He at least had the courtesy to meet her gaze. She tried to keep the rage from her voice, but was only partially successful. “What’s going on here?”
Suddenly Scanlon’s face looked as if it had aged twenty years, the crags and wrinkles deep as a glacial crevasse. “They’ve come for you. From this point forward, you’ll be in their custody.”
“Custody?You can’t possibly mean… you’re allowing them to take me?” She looked to Karen. “Did you know about this?”
Karen’s expression was pinched, and her mouth opened as if to respond, but Scanlon’s withering gaze seemed to dissuade her from saying anything. Her supervisor sighed, looking down at the floor.
Scanlon pushed himself back from his desk, one hand resting on the edge. “Sometimes we’re forced to do…unsavorythings. To keep the peace. We might not like it. We might even think it’s wrong, but in the end, what we think doesn’t really matter, does it? We have to follow orders anyway.”
Two huge, hard hands closed around each of her upper arms. She reacted instantly, shaking her left arm free and spinning up to her feet, using the grip on her right arm to wheel around on whoever it was grabbing her. She slapped his face so fast she didn’t even think about it, moving on pure instinct.
The big male, his dark blue eyes narrowing just the slightest at the impact of her palm across his cheek, reacted even faster, his immense strength wrapping her up in his arms with an effortless speed that left her gasping. As he wrenched one of her arms high behind her back, she yelped at the strain at her shoulder, the cold steel of a cuff wrapping about her wrist. With dizzying and humiliating swiftness, he’d yanked her other arm up, and in mere moments, her wrists were linked by cold steel behind her back.
The male who’d cuffed her bent close, his voice smooth and deep. “Don’t do that again.”
“Fuckyou!” She looked at Scanlon once again, spitting the words at him. “You can’t do this, sir. I’m exempt. I’m anagent.”
The director fixed her with a gaze so baleful, it was like looking straight into the abyss. “Not anymore you’re not.”
Before she could say another word, she was out the office door and being hustled down the hallway, her upper arms once more caught in the grip of those huge, implacable hands. One of the men had taken a fistful of her hair and used it to force her head down as she was marched out of the office. It was as if she were some dirty perp, as if she’d done something shamefully wrong.
As if you’re a prisoner.
Just as she was about to reach the outer door, and dreading the prospect of being dragged across the parking lot to God knew where, the clear voice of Karen rang out somewhere behind them.
“Scanlon wouldn’t let me tell you this in there, but you need to know. I’m not letting this go. Not ever. Hang on. Just… hangon. Okay?”
Then the main entrance door opened before them, and the icy, miserable rain sleeted against her cheek, Karen’s voice cut off in an instant.
A deep blue, idling SUV the size of a small country awaited her, its windows tinted to opaqueness, wisps of white drifting from each of the dual tailpipes, the smell of its exhaust just detectable on the chill breeze.
“I don’t suppose you two assholes would consider at least taking the cuffs off, would you?”
But they didn’t even bother with a reply, the black cloth hood slammed down over her head, plunging her into darkness a more eloquent—and terrifying—confirmation of her predicament than any mere words could ever hope to convey.
CHAPTER8
Dmitri
Seeing her emerge from the FMB office building into the wan light of the overcast morning, Dmitri’s cock ached, swelling to full hardness as he noted the way her breasts moved, not quite hidden completely under the unbuttoned suitcoat, pulled open somewhat due to her hands being cuffed behind her back.
He’d have to have a word with the security team about that; cuffing her was not in the plans he’d laid out regarding terms for surrendering the FMB agent. What had she done to necessitate such… restraints?
Her black slacks were more than form-fitting, if anything seeming a little tight, the round curves of her hips swaying as she was dragged along between the two hulking males.
They stopped, perhaps twenty paces from the idling vehicle where he sat inside, waiting. She barked something at her minders, but even with his keen hearing, he couldn’t quite make it out.
The heaviness at his groin was becoming decidedly distracting, the Draw already making it more difficult to concentrate onanythingother than drinking in the curves of his soon to be captive.
The black-out bag over her head was actually part of the plan—but it wasn’t supposed to happen untilafterthey’d gotten her in the truck, and they were on their way back to the lodge.
