Captured in Croatia by Christine Edwards Read Free Book Online Page A

my large frame down with caution and work my upper body inside the car. I can feel cuts on my hands from the debris. They barely register to me. I’ve crawled across worse. Far worse.
    The girl i s completely terrified. I watch her tremble, and her fear is so intense that I can nearly smell it on her. Even in this state, she is so gorgeous. Fighting back the torrent of lust that’s flowing hotly through my body, from her delicate floral scent to that silky blonde hair, I push hard against the seat belt latch at her hip. Nothing. Thinking that it’s jammed, I reach into my interior suit pocket and pull out a black Gerber tactical folding knife.
    The weapon opens with a smooth snick as it locks into place, and a small gasp comes from my pretty prey. The blade glints perilously close to her porcelain face. If I had a sense of humor, I might smile right about now. She’s so frightened of me, as well she should be. I’m a stone cold killer. I have been ever since I was sixteen years old.
    Whether she likes it or not , my beautiful little captive is going to learn a tough lesson in obedience. I’ve always been aroused by a challenge. I’ve always taken the hard road and over time I’ve even learned to yearn for it.
    ***
    “You’re mine now, princess. Hold still now.” His deep, bass voice is hard to understand, but I catch the meaning. Please, please make it quick! That’s all I can hope for as he slowly works his head and those impossibly wide shoulders inside the car.
    T he deadly knife comes forward out of his breast pocket. He opens it with a practiced motion and my shaking increases tenfold. Where is he going to stick me with the awful serrated instrument? The throat? My chest? I try my best to hold still, not knowing what else to do. I’m sure as hell not about to beg him to spare me. I’m far too proud for that.
    I feel a strong tug and then a back and forth motion against my hip. He’s cutting me out of the jammed seatbelt, not stabbing me to death with his gruesome weapon. I nearly sob out loud in gratitude. As the belt gives way there is nowhere to go but down, and I fall directly onto him in the dark confines of the wrecked space.
    “Ugh, oh!” I can’t help but cry out pitifully as the cuts along my arms and my wrist explodes in agony. I definitely must have sprained it during the crash.
    I moan pathetically, the pain all-consuming, yet he says nothing to me as I try in vain to shift my weight off his imposing frame. Before I know it, his arms are around me and he’s swiftly working us through the small space to the outside of the car.
    It’s too dark to see b ut I know that I’m bleeding significantly. I can smell the metallic scent of my blood and feel the wet stickiness on me. I’m lightheaded but I’m uncertain whether it’s from being banged about during the crash or the blood loss.
    A primal part of my brain tells me to use the last reserves of my a drenaline and try to run, to hide somewhere within the darkness. I push up slowly with my good hand and do my best to scramble back away from him, but I’m as weak as a kitten and mindful of my injuries. He has me in the steel trap of his arms. To my dismay, I get nowhere.
    I shudder inwardly , thinking that even on my best day, and with two functioning hands, it would be a challenge to break away. This guy’s a fighter. That’s crystal clear.
    F ading fast, I waver on the precipice of unconsciousness. I breathe in the cold air while fighting to stay lucid.
    Damn , I bet he’s going to take me straight back to Juric, and they’re going to torture the hell out of me until they get the truth. Either that, or give him the sick satisfaction of watching me die a slow death. That’s what’s done to spies who are unlucky enough to get caught with their mitts in the cookie jar, right? I was fully aware of worst case scenario when I agreed to this assignment. And man, this is it, without a doubt.
    Before I can blink , he’s standing upright and