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Her breathing sped up, her hand twisted in the blanket. She was regretting telling her father she refused to have security dogging her every step. She’d had guards as a kid and she’d vowed to escape that once she became an adult.
But someone had drugged her, tied her up. It got blurry after that. She remembered traveling somewhere. The sound of being on a plane—that familiar drone.
Oh, hell. Where was she? Was she even in the USA anymore? Fear cramped her belly, and her fingers twisted in the blanket.
Then… Then… She pressed a palm to the side of her head. It hurt so much to think.
Wait. She’d been in a vehicle, and they’d pulled over and she’d escaped. She’d gotten her bindings loose and run. She’d run into trees and…
Ugh, why couldn’t she remember?
She knew her name was Gemma Charlotte Newhouse. She lived in LA. She’d recently starred on the baking showCake and Bake. She loved sugar. All kinds of sugar—brown, white, raw, powdered, caster. She knew she could make a mean chocolate cake, and a mouthwatering soufflé, and her macarons rocked. But the last twenty-four hours were a blurry, shadowy mess.
The door of the cabin opened.
She stiffened. The man was tall. His muscular frame filled the doorway, and her heart kicked her ribs. The light behind him put his face in shadow.
A squeak escaped her, and fear exploded like a bag of dropped flour. She leaned over, grabbed the hardback off the table, and tossed it.
The man was fast. He dodged, and the book hit the floor.
“What the hell?” His voice was deep and smooth.
Gemma tucked her legs up, trying to get air into her lungs.
The man stepped forward, and now she saw his face. Bad guys shouldn’t be so handsome.
He was frowning at her as a German Shepherd walked around him, then headed straight for Gemma.
She tensed, but the dog nudged her, looking friendly.
“Gemma, are you all right?”
Her gaze flew back to the man. Her brain registered that he didn’t look threatening. And…his face was ruggedly handsome. There was nothing smooth about him, but he had a strong jaw combined with a long, muscled body. He was the kind of guy who’d be cast as the hero in an action movie.
“How do you know my name?”
The man’s frown deepened. “You’re sort of famous. And we met. Last night.” He cocked his head. “You don’t remember when I pulled you from the river?”
What?She licked her dry lips. Some flashbacks hit. Falling. Water. Cold.
Then a pair of worried, gold eyes.
She looked at those eyes now. “Boone?”
His frown eased. “That’s right. My name’s Boone Hendrix.”
She tightened her hold on the blanket. “Did you take my clothes off, Boone?”
He stilled. A dull flush hit his cheeks. “Yes. You were wet and cold. I was concerned about hypothermia. I wrapped you in the blanket first. I didn’t see a thing.”
She shifted and saw the bandages on her sore feet. He’d taken care of her. Probably saved her life.
Most of her adult life, she’d learned to quickly assess people. To see if she could trust them. Were they after her dad’s money? After an introduction to her father? Her high school boyfriend, who she’d had a huge crush on, who’d she’d trusted enough to give her virginity to, had just dated her to get access to her trust fund. It was an ugly memory she tried not to revisit. Unfortunately, she had a collection of them.
There were also people who didn’t like her father, or disliked billionaires or what Expanse was doing, and believed they could hurt her to hurt him.
Yes, her radar for picking trustworthy people was pretty finely tuned. She didn’t pick Boone Hendrix as a crazy rapist or abductor.
