Kitabı oku: «Men of Honour: Ready, Set, Jett / When You Dare / Trace of Fever / Savor the Danger / A Perfect Storm / What Chris Wants / Bare It All», sayfa 10

That’s what she wanted to talk about tomorrow, he realized. He nodded. “All right.”

She started to stand, albeit shakily, and Dare said, “Wait. Let me turn down the bed.”

He prepared it for her, much like he would for a child, then came back to her. “Do you need the bathroom first?”

Pale, trembling, she shook her head. “No.”

Knowing that decision was likely determined by her inability to make it there on her own, Dare took the choice away from her. “Of course you do.” After all, he’d been pushing fluids on her, and she’d obliged him.

Lifting her up, he carried her into the small tiled room. She weighed next to nothing and felt insubstantial, delicate, in his arms.

He set her down next to the john. “Okay?”

She grabbed the sink and held on. “Yes.”

Hardly, but he’d done as much as he could without causing her further embarrassment. “If you need me, I’ll be right outside the door. Just let me know when you’re finished.” He left her to it.

Leaning against the wall beside the door, thinking of what he’d learned, and what he hadn’t, Dare waited for her. Seconds later he heard her flush and then run water in the sink.

The door opened.

Eyes more closed than open, shuffling along like a zombie, Molly moved past him to the bed. Dare rushed to hold her arm, to steady her and steer her to the sheets.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she literally tumbled to the mattress. “So tired.”

Worry gnawed on him again. Should he damn her objections and take her to the hospital anyway? Already she looked to be asleep. He knew firsthand how exhaustion, especially when amplified by hunger and dehydration, could weary a body and soul.

Seeing her there, looking peaceful for a change, he made up his mind. A few more hours shouldn’t hurt. If she wasn’t steadier after sleeping, he’d insist she get checked out by a physician.

Before he thought better of it, Dare smoothed back her hair. It was so thick that it hadn’t dried much, but a wet head was the least of her worries.

He pulled the sheet and blanket up to her chin, and heard her sigh. “Rest up, Molly Alexander. In the morning we’ll sort things out.”

No answer.

For more than a minute, Dare stared down at her, wondering what he was going to do with her. She’d held it together with an admirable iron will and unwavering determination. Despite her horrific ordeal, she’d been reasonable, practical and intelligent.

But it was what she hadn’t been that told him even more.

She hadn’t been anxious to report to the police, hadn’t even looked at his gun or the big knife he carried, and she hadn’t wanted to call anyone.

That was a first for Dare. It was his experience that men and women alike, when recovered from a dangerous situation, had someone they wanted to speak to ASAP, someone they wanted to reassure, or have reassure them.

Not Molly.

What a mystery she was.

As efficiently as he could, Dare spread out her hair on the pillow so it’d dry quicker. Valuing order in all aspects of his life, he took time to tidy the room and get rid of the empty food containers.

He put the gun and knife under his pillow. They made a familiar lump that gave him a specific peace of mind needed in his line of work.

After stripping down to his boxers, he neatly folded his clothes and put them away in his duffel bag, kept on the other side of the bed. With one more glance out at the still-quiet parking lot, he drew the heavy shades, putting the room in darkness, and crawled under the blankets. The aged air conditioner hummed and whistled as it sent cool air to swirl around the room; he’d been too many hours without rest.

Within minutes, he fell into a light sleep.

Hours later, a short, guttural sound of panic drew him from a vague dream. He had his gun in his hand and was on his feet before the sound had faded.

HEART PUNCHING, stomach cramping, Molly jerked upright in the bed. Her hands balled into fists and her throat burned from the scream that almost escaped. Almost. Someone loomed next to her, someone big.

“Molly?”

She knew that voice. Still tinged with panic, she took quick inventory of her surroundings. The unfamiliar bed didn’t crawl with bugs, and the usual stench of unwashed bodies, fear and sickness didn’t pervade the air.

Reality crashed back in, and with it shame, mortification and sadness. She gasped, blindly reaching out. “Dare?” Her hand hit something, maybe a hard thigh.

“Yeah, just me.” He set something heavy on the nightstand, and then his big body dipped the mattress and his hand touched her shoulder. “Bad dream?”

More like bad memories, but she didn’t want to go into that right now. Her breath shuddered in. “Yes. I’m so sorry I woke you.”

“You’re okay now?”

“I …” What could she say? That she’d never be okay again? Unacceptable, because that would mean they’d won, whoever they were. “Yes. Now I am.” Fear continued to rip through her in agonizing waves. “I’m sorry.”

“Enough with the apologies, okay?”

His gruff voice somehow reassured her. She nodded in the darkness, struggling to get her bearings. “I thought …”

“That you were back there again?” Cautiously, a little awkwardly, he drew her against him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s going to take you a while to shake it off.”

Then he put another bottle of water in her hand.

A near-hysterical laugh bubbled up, and she barely repressed it. Shake it off? Is that what he would do?

Probably. He was so much stronger, so much more capable than she.

She dutifully drank some water, then handed the bottle back to him. He set it aside, but then pulled her close.

Her cheek met the bare skin of his upper chest and fit neatly against the notch of his shoulder. So much heat emanated from him. He smelled good, too, clean and pure. And he felt even better, like strength, safety.

Her rescuer had nothing in common with the filthy, depraved animals who had imprisoned her, who had likely been hired to … do what with her?

Molly could hear his even, calm heartbeat, and it helped to slow her racing heart. Other than his initial, probably automatic gesture of comfort, Dare didn’t touch her. One of his hands rested lightly on her shoulder, un-moving but offering the knowledge that she was no longer alone or in danger.

“Dare?”

“Hmm?”

He seemed perfectly comfortable in their present position, as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

Molly wished she felt the same. Never in her life had she asked for comfort from another person. For her, this was all very awkward, but basic need, the need to survive, drove her now. “Would you mind if I just stayed like this for a few minutes?”

“No problem.” As if in affirmation, he coasted his hand up and down her back, then up again, to tangle in her hair. “At least your hair is mostly dry now.”

Another strangling, semi-ironic laugh almost slipped out. “Yeah, I’ve got that going for me.”

He was silent a moment, then said, “I didn’t think to ask earlier, but do you need any aspirin or anything?”

Molly shook her head. “I’m not sure what the pills were that they forced me to swallow, but I’d rather not take anything else for a while.”

“They were probably some kind of hallucinogen. Or maybe tranqs.”

Reminded of how the pills had made her feel, she stiffened, pushed back from him a little to look up at his barely visible face. “I detest being out of control.”

He went curiously still. “Now?”

“No, when they were doping me.” She remembered the lack of control over her sluggish limbs, how her mind dredged up such ridiculous, vague and misty dreams. Everything was surreal, implausible, insubstantial. “I don’t drink, and I never, ever took drugs. I’ve never even smoked pot. And then to have them force me … It was awful. Why would anyone ever drug themselves on purpose?”

He relaxed again. “No idea.”

She believed him. Dare was a man who enjoyed being in charge. He wouldn’t blunt that ability for the sake of kicks or a quick high.

More to herself than to him, Molly whispered, “I like being me, not a loopy version of me.”

He said nothing to that.

Needing to talk, to drive away the remnants of that dream, she again looked up at him. “The other women … You said you saved one, but there were others there, too. What happened to them?”

“Four of them were apparently local, because as soon as I freed them and told them it was clear, they took off.”

“I hope they’re all right.”

He shrugged. “They seemed to know right where they wanted to go.”

“Those men …” Damn it, she had difficulty finishing thoughts, much less sentences. “They were so cruel, taunting the women, pawing them.”

His muscles seemed to bulge. “The blond woman. They pawed her?”

Icy anger sounded in his tone. “Sometimes, but I got the impression she was too valuable to abuse. They said she’d bring a lot of money.” Now Molly soothed him, clutching his big shoulder. “She’s the one you saved? The one you said is like family?”

“Yes.”

She put her cheek against his chest again. “Where is she now?”

His hug was automatic, for them both. “With her brother. Safe.”

Safe. Such a strange concept, but Molly now knew that no one was ever really safe. “I’m glad. She’s so young.” His warmth seeped into her, making her drowsy again. “I tried talking to her, but she was too afraid.”

Looking down at her, he asked, “And you weren’t?”

“I’ve never in my life known that kind of fear.” The dark and quiet of the small room, the casualness of his touch, made it easier to talk. “Dare, can I tell you something?”

He shifted, almost like he was settling in for something monumental. “Yes.”

How to explain it? A prisoner was a prisoner—but she’d been imprisoned differently. “I wasn’t like the others.”

Rather than question her meaning, he just said, “I know.”

Did he? “Those girls were in their late teens or very early twenties, and they were all stunning. They were kept on one side of the trailer, with more opportunity to bathe. They were given clean clothes. Ridiculously revealing clothes, but still … And they had more food, more water. It was almost like the jerks wanted them to look good. Healthy, I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.”

But Molly frowned at her own words. “I’m not saying they had it any easier than I did. Captivity is captivity, and we were all miserable.”

“But?”

She swallowed. “But … I’m thirty years old.” She twisted to look up at him. “I know I’m plain. And even if I didn’t already know it, I’m not stupid.”

She heard something in his tone when he agreed. “No, you’re far from stupid.”

“They didn’t want me to sell, like they did the others.”

As if he’d already come to that conclusion himself, he said, “No, they didn’t. But then why did they take you? Do you know? Did they say anything?”

They had said plenty, most of it in Spanish. “I’ve gone over it again and again, and I think … I think someone must have paid them to.”

In the quiet security of that small motel room, she counted their breaths, waiting for Dare to react. By small degrees, his muscles again bunched and flexed.

But his hold remained gentle.

When he spoke, he sounded matter-of-fact, as if he believed her without further explanation. “Who?”

Molly squeezed her eyes shut, hating the reality of what her life had become. “That’s the conundrum, isn’t it? I have no idea who I can trust anymore.”

His hand smoothed over her hair, then cupped the back of her skull. “Do you think you can go back to sleep now?”

Not if she had to sleep alone. Hedging, she asked, “What time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? We’re not on a schedule yet.”

But she hated to further inconvenience him. He hadn’t been paid to come after her. He’d probably rescued her with the thought of dropping her on the other side of the border, someone else’s problem to deal with.

Unfortunately, she had no one else right now. “Do you have a flight to catch?”

Before he answered, he urged her back down in the bed. Her head sank into the soft pillow, and the clean sheets, though cheap and scratchy, smelled good. He stayed close as he all but tucked her in.

She should have been alarmed, having a man bending over her, especially a man of Dare’s size and obvious strength.

Instead, she felt more at ease than she had since being grabbed and stuffed into the back of an old van right in front of her own apartment building. She doubted the quaint community in southern Ohio would ever again feel boring to her.

Dare smoothed the covers over her shoulders. “When I’m on a mission like this, I can’t make plans too far in advance. If anything had gone wrong, if I hadn’t been able to get Alani out of there so easily, or if she’d already been moved, then I’d still be tracking her.”

“You wouldn’t have given up on finding her?”

“Never.”

The unwavering conviction in that one word reassured her. Alani was lucky to have someone like Dare caring for her. “How did you know where to look for her?”

He moved to her side, and when Molly thought he’d leave the bed—leave her—he instead propped his back against the headboard. After stretching out his long legs, he said, “I’ve been in this business a long time.”

“How long? You can’t be much older than me.”

“Thirty-two, so I’ve been at it for more than ten years.”

Fascinating. Molly folded a hand under her cheek and got comfortable. “You started young.”

With a shrug, he said, “It suits me.”

“Adrenaline junkie?” she guessed.

“And a control freak—which means I really understand how you detested being so powerless. I’d have hated it, too.”

But he wouldn’t have been so helpless against them. Somehow, Molly thought Dare would have found a way to not only escape, but to wipe the cretins out for good.

He took her silence for interest, which was okay because she found him intriguing. And listening to him kept her from stewing over her own awful predicament.

“I’m obsessive about details,” he told her. “That’s made me reliable enough to cultivate contacts everywhere, but Mexico is the easiest. For a fee, the coyotes can usually give me information I can’t uncover otherwise.”

“Coyotes? You mean the people who smuggle illegal aliens into the country?”

Dare nodded. “Yeah, but they’re also useful when you need help getting back out of Tijuana. It’s a sad fact that in many areas human trafficking isn’t that much of a secret, so plenty of people are usually in the loop about new acquisitions.”

She thought of the young Caucasian girl who’d been held in the trailer with her. “Your friend Alani had very unique coloring.”

He nodded. “That made it easier for others to remember her, but not that many got to see her. They were saving her for a big sale, I’m sure.”

Wretched, horrible men, to plan such a thing for a young girl. She hated them, all of them.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Molly could make out Dare’s profile. She remembered that thunk right before he’d joined her in the bed. “You have a gun with you.”

“On the nightstand,” he confirmed. “A Glock 9mm. Does it bother you?”

She shook her head.

When he said, “Good,” she realized that he could see her, too.

“May I see it?”

“You’ve already seen it.”

“I mean … hold it.”

He made a sound that could have passed for humor. “Hell, no.”

Well. Molly didn’t know if she should be offended or not. Then she thought of those awful men…. “Have you ever shot anyone?”

With no hesitation, Dare said, “Yes.”

Her heart pumped hard. She licked her lips, drew a breath. “Did you … shoot the men who were guarding the trailer?”

He looked at her again. After some consideration, he asked, “Why?”

Her voice sounded more raw than she intended, but Molly was helpless to state things any differently. “They’re brutal beasts who take pleasure in hurting women.”

“In hurting you,” he agreed with quiet sympathy.

Her nose stuffed up. Her throat tightened. “They …”

Oh, God, it was almost impossible to talk. Her voice kept breaking, going higher, weaker. But Dare didn’t prompt her, didn’t rush her. He just waited in supportive silence.

“They wanted to make me cry. They wanted to make me beg.” She sniffed, drew a breath. “Just for sport.”

Without a word, as if they knew each other well, he pulled her up against his chest and put his chin to the top of her head. After a few seconds, he said, “You know, Molly, if I could, I’d kill them for you again.”

She jerked, then whispered in awe, “Again?”

“Yeah.”

Dizziness assailed her. “So you did kill them?”

“Damn right.” He looked down at her. “They needed killing.”

“Yes, they did.” The men were gone; they couldn’t hurt her, or anyone else, ever again. As the tension eased out of her, her heavy eyelids sank down, almost closing.

Great relief came from the knowledge that they were gone forever.

Dawn began to creep through the heavy drapes, and for the first time in days, Molly greeted it with hope. “Dare?”

“Yeah?”

She hugged him tight. “Thank you.”

CHAPTER THREE

WHILE SIPPING COFFEE and watching her sleep, Dare went over possible scenarios for the day. First on the agenda, he had to decide what to do with Ms. Molly Alexander.

He couldn’t just dump her, because she shouldn’t be alone right now and didn’t seem to have anyone to go to. She refused the police, not that they could be of much help anyway. So, then … what to do with her?

It wasn’t like he could keep her.

He wanted to get back home to check on his girls, and thinking that, he lifted his cell phone and put in a call. Chris Chapey, his personal assistant, answered on the third ring.

“Hey, Dare. I want to hear some good news.”

Dare rolled his eyes. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get Chris to answer the phone properly. Sure, Chris always checked the caller ID first, so he knew it was Dare, but still … “Alani is with Trace now.”

“Fucking-A. Perfect news.” But then, with more sensitivity: “She’s … okay, isn’t she?”

“Depends on your definition of okay, I guess. But I think she’ll recoup. It’s for certain that Trace won’t let her take another vacation without him—not for a hell of a long time.” Or until Alani had a man of her own to keep her safe.

“Can’t say as I blame him,” Chris said. “I assume that you got through things unscathed?”

He glanced toward Molly, asleep in the bed. A bed they’d shared—in the platonic sense. “More or less.”

“So, when are you going to be home?”

“Not sure yet. I have a—” Suddenly, as if she’d felt his gaze, Molly’s eyes opened. They were puffy from sleeping hard, and a little unfocused—until they locked on his. She again gave him that startled, caught look. “A complication.”

Showing no reaction to that, Molly rolled to her back a moment and yawned, then pushed back the covers and sat up. She gingerly stretched and winced. Beneath the now-wrinkled clothes, Dare noted once again that although she was thin, she still had an abundance of curves.

How the hell had he ever missed that? Not that he’d been checking her out, but it was a little hard to miss now that he had noticed.

Shoulders slumped, Molly sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, just breathing and maybe taking personal stock of aches and pains. He was willing to bet she had plenty of them.

Finally, with a deep sigh, she stood and padded barefoot for the bathroom. He noted some definite curves in the back, too, defined beneath the body-hugging shorts and loose T-shirt.

She looked less wobbly today, so the sleep and food must have done the trick.

When she shut the door, Dare realized that Chris was talking to him and he hadn’t heard a word.

“I need to go.”

Chris snorted. “No being cryptic, boss man. If you’re in trouble—”

“I’m not.”

“Then what’s the complication?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He hoped. “Everything will be fine.” Somehow he’d make that true. “I’ll call you later when I finalize my plans.”

Molly emerged from the bathroom, her face damp, her thick, tangled hair everywhere. But today, rather than looking like a wreck, her wild hair just looked … freshly tumbled.

She came over to sniff the coffee, lifted a cup in hopeful question, and Dare nodded.

She mouthed a heartfelt, Thank you.

In the bright sunlight, her brown eyes looked less wary, but the bruising under and around them had deepened.

Shit.

Dare gave his attention back to Chris. “Give the girls some hugs from me.”

“I’m keeping them happy, don’t worry.”

He never did. He trusted Chris with his life—and his girls. “Later.”

Dare closed the phone and eyed Molly. She avoided his gaze, which he found curious. “How do you feel? And don’t sugarcoat it.”

Her lips curved in the briefest smile. “Glad to be alive and free. But also achy, still a little tired. And starved.” She peered at the arrangement of food. “Not to impose, but is any of this up for grabs?”

“I’ve already finished, so help yourself.” He watched her sit and open up all three containers, finding scrambled eggs, bacon and toast.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed with hunger. “It’s an absolute feast.”

“Hardly that.” Her mood this morning threw him. He hadn’t expected her to be … chipper. Or maybe it was more complacent. Either way, he’d been prepared for the shock to take hold.

Instead, she behaved as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“For me, this is the most delicious-looking food I’ve seen in far too long, so thank you. And don’t worry, I really do have money to repay you for everything. Just keep a tally of it all, if you don’t mind. My math skills have always been lacking and … I don’t have a notepad or pen.” She glanced up at him. “At least, not with me.”

Discolorations in blue, purple, green and black marred her skin from her eyes down to her toes, and she spoke as if the cost of a diner breakfast mattered.

“How long have you been up?” She tasted the eggs, tore open a salt and pepper packet, seasoned them, then tasted again. With a roll of her eyes, she said, “Oh, Nirvana.”

Dare enjoyed her expression of greedy bliss. “I woke a few hours ago.” Still at your side, with you squeezed up against me. He’d awakened with women many times, but never a woman like her, never a woman in her situation.

She’d been dead to the world, and still she clung to him so tightly that he had to pry her loose before sliding out of the bed and away from her. After leaving her, he noted the fading of her warmth against his skin, and how her scent still clung to him.

Disturbing.

“What time is it?” She bit into the bacon and chewed with delight.

“Noon.”

“Wow. Late for you, I bet.” Her gaze flashed up with a hint of humor. “You being such an orderly, organized guy.” She emphasized that with a peek around the room. He’d already made his bed, because he hated the clutter of rumpled blankets and really didn’t want housekeeping around his stuff.

Dare shrugged. Usually he rose before dawn, but he’d needed the rest, too. Leaning forward, he tried for a note of seriousness. “So, Molly, what do we have on the agenda for the day?”

She paused with another bite of bacon almost to her mouth. Her hand dropped back to the table. “Well, I’ve been thinking about that.”

“While you were in the bathroom for, oh … thirty seconds?” The rest of the time she’d either slept or talked. She hadn’t really had time to ponder things.

Her chin lifted. “Actually, since I woke up in your backseat and realized you weren’t with the bad guys, I’ve been considering what to do next.”

Amazing. He believed her, though. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d already figured out that she was that type of no-nonsense, get-it-together, make-a-plan woman. “Come to any conclusions?” He was dying to know.

“That depends.” She fidgeted a moment, then tilted her head at him. “Are you expensive, Dare?”

Now what was she up to? He crossed his arms and sat back. “Very.”

“So, that means you’re really good?”

His eyes narrowed, and he said again, “Very.”

Mulling that over, she nodded acceptance. “I’m not certain what type of work you do, but I know you carry a knife and a pretty big gun, and that you’re darned good at getting in and out of dire situations.”

All true enough.

“I trust what I know of you, and you did rescue me with no incentive other than that it was the right thing to do, so … I was hoping maybe I could hire you?” Very unsure of herself, she ended with a clear question, hoping for his cooperation.

Dare studied her, a little astounded, but also curious. But again, it proved nearly impossible to know what was in that quick mind of hers. So far just about everything she’d said or done had been unexpected.

“To do what, exactly?” If she thought he was a murderer for hire, he’d just have to set her straight. Yes, he’d killed, but only when necessary to protect an innocent. Never in cold blood. Never for money.

He was as law-abiding as the next guy—when he could abide the law.

Leaning forward in her seat, Molly put her elbows on the table and stared him in the eyes. “Someone wanted me hurt, I’m sure of that. Maybe he even wanted me killed. I need to know who he is, or I’ll never be able to relax. Until that person is revealed, I’ll need protection.” Her gaze dipped over his body, her lips rolled in, and she hurried her attention back to his face.

She let out a ragged breath. “God’s truth, Dare, I think you’re a man who could protect anything or anyone if you set your mind to it.”

Damn right—but he wasn’t yet ready to commit himself. There was a lot he didn’t know about Molly Alexander. He started with the most obvious. “You said he. You think a man set you up?”

Her mouth twisted. “Actually, that was just a figure of speech. I didn’t mean to leap to any conclusions. It could be anyone.”

No kidding. “Do you have enemies, Molly?”

She laughed with a near-hysterical edge, but she quickly regrouped and picked up some toast. “All things considered, apparently I do.”

He couldn’t argue that point. The more he’d thought about it, the more her theory made sense. Someone must have wanted her taken, because she wasn’t the young helpless innocent usually grabbed.

But he wanted to hear her reasoning. “What makes you so sure you weren’t just a random grab gone awry?”

“Besides the obvious unsuitability for the standard—being gorgeous, stacked, younger women?” A new edge showed in her demeanor, a renewed fear and anger. “I wasn’t treated the same. Not even close. They leered at the others, saw them as commodities, but they mostly just wanted to taunt me, as if they were allowed liberties with me that were forbidden against the others.”

“The bruises on your face,” Dare remarked aloud, and he had to tamp down his anger. “A bruised woman doesn’t sell for as much.”

She shrugged. “They never once struck the other women in the face. In fact, they might have manhandled them a little, but they didn’t hit them at all.”

“You egged them on.” Dare couldn’t get over that.

“Did Alani tell you that? Well, it’s true, I guess—and it sort of makes me sound nuts, huh?”

“I don’t know. Depends on why you did it, I guess.”

Her hands curled into fists. “They wanted to break me, and I refused. I was afraid that once I did, once I fell apart, they’d go ahead and kill me. Like maybe that’s what they were waiting for.”

She’d crumbled the toast, realized it, and brushed her hands before folding them in her lap. “Believe me, I was terrified, but rather than show them that, I showed them the scorn I felt.”

Again, she amazed him. She’d sized up the situation and rationalized a way to buy herself some time. “Go on.”

“I sometimes overheard them talking. Mostly in Spanish, and my skills are rusty at best, but when one of the guys got really furious with me, another told him that he couldn’t kill me. Yet.”

Dare said nothing as he absorbed that and considered the possibilities. They’d been waiting for something. But what?

“They followed someone else’s instructions.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. Why else would they have kept her instead of selling her or killing her?

She met his gaze. “And then one of them said that …” She trailed off, distressed, angry.

Anticipating her answer, Dare leaned forward. “What?”

Her brows drew together, and she closed her eyes. “That I had surely learned a lesson.”

He dropped back in his chair. Unbelievable. Had someone hired her abductors to torture her with uncertainty, cruel treatment, fear and humiliation? If so, it would have to be someone with a lot of hatred and resentment.

Someone she knew.

But how could one small, average woman incur that much wrath?

“Anyone obvious?” When she didn’t reply, he said, “Come on, Molly, you know I’ll need some specifics before I can be of any real help to you.”

Sighing, she again gave up on the food. “Let’s just say it could be anyone from my father and his associates, to my ex-boyfriend, to a disgruntled reader.”

Her boyfriend? Then the rest of what she’d said registered. “Reader?”

Again she faced him, her shoulders back and her chin up. “I’m a writer.”

“Published?”

She blinked before saying, “Well … yeah.”

An unspoken duh sounded in her words. Dare shook his head. “I’ve never heard of you.”

Something flashed over her features, maybe defensiveness. Had she caught grief for writing?

“You must not read dark, sexy romantic suspense.” She tipped her head, not really proud, but maybe … smug. “My fourth book is being made into a movie. There’s even talk of Ryan Reynolds playing the lead.”

Incredulous, Dare whistled low under his breath. “Son of a bitch. You really can afford me, then?”

She picked up her fork with obvious renewed hunger. “For the breakfast—and with your agreement, a whole lot more.”