Page 69 of Protecting His Finch

I’m panting. Sore. But I can catch my breath later.

I relieve both men of their guns. I empty the clip of one, toss the revolver, and keep the second gun with me. Then I grab the car keys off the kitchen counter and leave the house.

They can’t have gotten far.

Our rental car is a blazing red convertible. I kick it to life and throw my foot against the acceleration.

Finley, I’m coming for you.

32

FINLEY

Raphael’s dark blue Mustang purrs down the road.

There’s a single, long road that curves around the island. Through the trees that whisk by at abnormal speed, I can see the crystal-blue water. The cloudless sky.

It’s a beautiful day for a kidnapping.

“You made the right choice,” Raphael tells me. “You’ll see, in time.”

In the back seat, I can see the glint of his sword. It lies across the seats like a metal snake, waiting to strike.

I calculate how long it would take to grab it and pierce Raphael straight through.

As if he can read my mind, he reaches across and takes my hand in his. His fingers are too hot, his palm clammy.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“I have a private jet. We’ll take it back home.”

“Home,” I repeat, as if I know the word.

He unlatches his fingers from mine and, one hand on the wheel, glances over at me to slip his other hand through my hair.

“It’s where you belong, Finley,” he says.

I hate the way he says my name.

I hate the ice in his eyes and the clinginess of his touch.

I hate this man and the iron cage he’s put me in.

He gave me no choice. I had to do something to save Archer. Anything.

I’d spend my life in a cage if I knew it would mean that Archer would be safe and alive.

I close my eyes and feel my whole body go numb. I try to get accustomed to the feeling of being a passenger in my own life again.

“What the hell?” Raphael hisses, and I open my eyes again.

The road to the airstrip is completely empty—except for us, and except for the red convertible closing the gap behind us.

My heart leaps in my chest. Archer! He’s alive. He’s safe.

Raphael sneers and grips the steering wheel tighter. I hear the car buzz underneath us.

“What are you doing?” I ask, alarm in my voice.

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