Marie Harte - Roane

Okay, I’ve got them hooked. Now what? She’d never before employed her sensuality as a weapon. Though she didn’t intend to follow through with anything, she unfortunately had no idea how to extricate herself from the lust building in both men.

A sudden accident turned all three toward the street, where two men argued over smashed fenders.

“You asshole!”

“Look in the mirror, pal. You ran a red light! Look at all this damage.”

“It was yellow, and if you weren’t so busy staring at the eye candy,” the smaller man paused, nodding in her direction, “instead of the road, you would have seen me turning.” She hoped she hadn’t caused the accident and took a guilty step back, one that had both her kidnappers snapping their attention to her again.

Drawing a deep breath, she sent them a sly grin. “I can’t wait. Let’s do it in the truck.” Vincent nodded and strode to the SUV without looking back. Simon paused a moment, as if struggling.

“Open the door for me, Simon,” she said, pouting, and blew him a kiss, one ripe with invitation. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Glancing beyond him, she noted Vincent at the vehicle fumbling with his keys. She just had to get rid of Simon, at least enough to run into the crowd on the other side of Beach Avenue. There she had no doubt she’d find a cop. They were everywhere down here in the summer.

Simon nodded hesitantly. “Okay, but I’m first. You’ll do whatever I want, no matter how much it hurts.” His gray eyes gleamed.

She nodded encouragingly, and he pushed her toward the vehicle.

The moment she was more than an arm’s length away she bolted. Dimly aware of her name being shouted, she ignored everything but the driving need to escape. From deep within her pooled a source of speed and strength she’d never felt before. Months of weakness and dizziness vanished, as if they’d never been.

Caitlyn ran right off the boardwalk, landing five feet below on the street as if she’d skirted a small crack in the ground. She felt fine, not breathless but full of energy. Not questioning her newfound strength, she ignored the sudden sting in her shoulder and prayed she could make it to safety.

Spotting a break in the heavy beach traffic, she darted between cars, running away from the water along Decatur, searching for police. Not seeing any, she raced toward the Washington Square Mall. The outdoor shopping plaza would provide decent camouflage until she could find a ride and ditch the beach.

She ran through a small, metered parking lot to a narrow alley between stores and stopped to catch her breath, not surprised at the migrainelike throbbing that pulsed behind her eyes. Whenever they’d forced her to perform for them in the lab, she’d felt the same tension, the same ache. Yet this one was worse, and as she touched the sting at her shoulder, she realized part of the pain had been induced by an outside source.

Yanking the small dart from her body, she cursed Vincent, Simon, and the fucking PPA, whatever the hell that was. Caitlyn leaned back against the brick wall and tried to control her breathing, but the slow fog in her mind grew. Panic flared, and a scuffling noise to her left forced her to action.

Fleeing from the intrusion, she had almost reached the entrance to the heavily trafficked plaza when two men appeared, blocking her access to safety. She quickly turned around, only to find two more men waiting at the mouth of the alley, too far away to be an immediate threat, but close enough not to discount.

Caitlyn felt rather than saw the men closest to her near. She jumped back, snarling at them like a wild beast. Scared at the changes in herself, as much as the threat surrounding her, she spotted the nearest avenue of escape and focused on the men to her front.

Both men were as large, if not larger, than Vincent -- the black-haired one taller and meaner looking, while the sandy-haired man wore an easygoing expression and held his hands up, as if to show he was harmless. The brief glimpse of the two behind her had affirmed their threatening sizes as well, and she wondered hysterically if there was a Mr.

Universe pageant nearby that she’d missed.

“Easy,” the most threatening of the bunch growled. Not likely. His brown eyes snapped, his jaw clenched tight, and his biceps flexed as he fisted his hands and began stalking her.

“Back off,” she growled back, dismayed to find she had literally growled, as in, like a dog. “And lose the men behind me, or I’ll tear them limb from limb.” She knew she sounded overly dramatic. But she felt as if she could really hurt them.

After the day she’d had, she wouldn’t feel the least bit sorry for any abuse they might suffer at her hands.

“Shit. Roane, she’s changing now,” the sandy-haired one in front of her said.

“I know, Hale. I’m not blind. What the hell do you want me to do?”

“Hold her down,” one of the giants behind her offered.

She glanced over her shoulder and bared her teeth, and immediately knew she’d made a huge mistake. The minute her head turned, large hands settled over her.

Twisting and flailing, she clawed, bit, and kicked at her attacker. But the acute pain assaulting her body hampered her defenses. Bones popped, and muscles stretched. Her head felt as if it would split in two, and her heart hammered within her chest.

She was dimly aware of rough hands cradling her, of others reaching for but not hurting her. The combination of pain and dizziness finally overrode her stubborn resistance, and she passed out cold.

“Derrick and Hale, post at the exits. Zack, the blanket.” Zack nodded, helping Roane wrap the woman up in an overly large blanket.

“Ace is waiting with the SUV,” Zack murmured.

Moving with a sense of urgency and praying Vincent Hoff and Simon Dunn were the only two assholes the Project’s Protection Agency -- the PPA -- had sent after Caitlyn Chase, Roane hefted Caitlyn in his arms and hurried down the alley toward the parking lot. Derrick held him back a moment, then nodded and shuttled him to the vehicle.

Ace had popped open the back hatch and sat waiting behind the wheel, tapping at it nervously. “We need to fly,” he said as Roane gently set the woman down and slammed the hatch shut. “I’ve got cops looking for me from that accident scene on Beach. The other guy is majorly pissed that I smashed his precious Lexus.” Roane waited for Derrick, Zack, and Hale to enter the vehicle before climbing in the front passenger seat.

“Slow down, we don’t want to draw attention,” he warned Ace as the man pressed the accelerator.

“Talk about your backseat drivers,” Ace mumbled but slowed a fraction. “So what’s the deal with the package?” He looked in his rearview at the back.

“She started changing, right there in the alley,” Derrick said with a grin. “Damned if she didn’t do Roane some damage.”

“Some,” Roane agreed, suddenly feeling the sting of several deep gouges. “The stubborn woman wouldn’t listen.”

“Would you have?” Zack asked with a snort. “She just got mauled by two dickheads from the PPA and has no idea she’s a Circ.”

“And then she had to face you,” Hale added with mock terror. “Hell, I’d have gone for your jugular the minute I laid eyes on your ugly face.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Ace agreed and turned onto Washington Street, heading out of Cape May proper. “Now, how about you idiots shut up while our fearless leader tells me where to go?”

“I’d like to tell you where to go,” Derrick muttered.

“The compound,” Roane said, staring out the window. “Zack, contact Doc and let him know we’re coming. He’ll need to identify what they drugged her with.” Zack nodded and reached for his cell phone.