Marie Harte - Roane

Caitlyn Chase sighed with pleasure as she basked under the hot summer sun. She’d paid Cape May’s extortion fee for a beach pass. She’d spent an eternity searching for a somewhat isolated spot far away from screeching children kicking sand. And after enduring a plethora of wolf whistles and catcalls from the group playing volleyball several yards away, she’d finally found Nirvana in simple sand and surf.

Settling onto her towel, she soaked away her cares in the familiarity of the beach where she’d spent so many summers alongside her family. Though her parents and brother had been gone for more than a decade now, she could almost hear them calling out to her as she lay on the sand listening to the waves.

“Need me to do your front?” A deep, masculine voice shook her from her musings.

She blinked up into a leering and malevolent face. Hard, calculating, dark eyes stared over her figure, making her want to shy away. He looked like a brick, his thick arms bulging as he crossed them over a massive chest. Even dressed in a tank top and shorts with short, blond hair styled to look carefree, he appeared a thug.

“Maybe she wants a softer hand,” another man spoke, sandwiching her between him and his friend. “Back up, Vincent, and let me handle her.” This one was taller and leaner, but no less dangerous. Handle her? She sensed in him a keen ability to manipulate those around him. He dressed like his friend, but unlike Vincent, he fit his clothes. Dark hair framed a face almost too pretty to be a man’s, and his gray eyes glittered with an intensity she found disturbing.

As her mind struggled to catch up to her instinctive reaction to both men, they quickly knelt on either side of her and pinned her shoulders, effectively holding her in place while smiling down at her, giving the appearance they were all old friends.

“We can do this the easy way,” the tall one said, brushing his knuckles along the swell of one breast.

“Or the hard way,” Vincent growled, his grip on her arm bruising. “Don’t bother asking any of the assholes on the beach for help. I’ll hurt anyone who comes along.” He grinned.

“Don’t let me scare you, though. Come on, honey, something tells me you’re a fighter. Make a break for it and run.”

Caitlyn’s heart raced. “I don’t understand.”

“Sure you do, sweetheart,” the tall one said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We’re with the PPA.”

“PPA?”

“And you haven’t been licensed. You’re coming in for a tag,” Vincent added.

“A tag?” She stared down at the beach tag pinned to her bikini bottom. “I just paid eight bucks for that!” PPA, what was PPA? “What is this about? And Vincent, ease up on my arm.” Visions of lawsuits and jail time flashed through her mind. “You’re going to be very sorry if you don’t let go.”

Instead of releasing her, he leaned down and focused on her mouth. “Why? You going to bite me if I don’t?”

Bite him? What the hell was he talking about? She might be a walking hormone, but she wasn’t into the rough stuff. His close proximity, however, was making her dizzy, a sad fact that reminded her of the worries she’d come to the beach to forget, if only for a little while.

“You’re making me sick.” She felt nauseated and closed her eyes, fighting for control.

Opening them, she stared at the taller man, who seemed to be in charge. “I’m not well.”

“No, you’re a freak, one we need to ‘examine.’” Vincent sneered. “Hell, breed ’em and bag ’em, I say. Right, Simon?”

Simon frowned. “I don’t think she’s pretending. Look at her pupils.” Vincent leaned closer, and she visibly recoiled. His smell was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. Like rotten garbage and raw sewage -- evil personified.

“Come with us, Caitlyn. We’ll help you feel much better.” Simon stroked her cheek with a rough hand. His touch felt like slime, and she had to force herself to remain still beneath him. Breathing deeply, she nodded and sat up with their help.

“Nice tits,” Vincent murmured as he stared down her bathing suit.

She flushed, thinking her decision for maximum tan couldn’t have come at a worse time. The brown bikini was tame compared to that of most of the women lying on the beach, but under her captors’ stares, she felt almost naked.

“You do have a lovely figure,” Simon appraised, his eyes roving her curves with a snakelike charm. “You know, Vincent, there’s nothing saying we have to take her in right away.” He lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Maybe Caitlyn would rather we forget we ever saw her. Maybe she’d like the chance to persuade us to lose her for a while?” She hurriedly nodded, relieved beyond measure when he and Vincent released her arms. She rubbed where Vincent had touched her but kept her eyes down as she gathered her things. A plan firmed in her mind, distasteful though it was. Caitlyn taunted them as she wriggled into her clothing. She slowly stepped into her jean cutoffs and donned a loose, long-sleeved, white cotton shirt. Hoping she still had the ability she hadn’t used in years, Caitlyn crouched to draw her tennis shoes on and released the natural pheromone abundant in her system.

Thank God, it worked. Simon inhaled sharply, and Vincent muttered a crude description of her impending future. She continued to exude chemical attractant, inwardly grimacing at the headache that accompanied her unique talent.

She walked, waiting patiently while they escorted her off the beach, away from the multitude of sun worshippers toward hotel row. Beyond the paved boardwalk, she noted a dark SUV parked by itself and knew that’s where they headed. Once inside that vehicle, she’d find herself in real trouble. Bastards. Rape and torture at Vincent’s hands, and who the hell knew what Mr. Suave beside her thought about. Despite Vincent’s rough treatment, something about Simon warned her he’d be the worse of the two.

As she trudged through the sand, Caitlyn shut her mind to the million questions about who they were and how they’d found her, or for that matter, why they wanted her. She could only assume they were somehow connected to Pearson Labs, the only people who’d ever shown an intense interest in her. After a lifetime of tests and study, she’d left the lab three years ago, at their request. So why track her down now?

Then again, maybe these two weren’t with the lab. She frowned. But they knew her name. No doubt, they also knew where she was staying. Adrenaline spiked, and she forced herself to appear docile, a lamb being led to slaughter.

Vincent ran his hand over her ass, and she was forced to listen to what he intended to do to her as he whispered threats in her ear. The stairway off the beach neared. She counted the steps as they climbed, pulling back when her feet hit the paved boardwalk. Only fifty feet to the SUV. What to do, what to do?

“Grab her,” Simon ordered. “I’m sure she’ll try for a shot at freedom. They all do.” They all do? Thinking quickly, she went with her gut and stopped.

“You know, I still don’t know what PPA is, but that doesn’t mean I’m against getting friendly with a few handsome men.” She blinked up at Vincent and licked her lips, pleased when his eyes fairly glazed over.

“Ignore it, Vincent.” Simon’s voice was sharp.

She turned to him and smiled. “Simon,” she whispered and drew him toward her, aware he seemed to have softened. “Come on, baby. Don’t you want me?” She leaned closer and brought his head to hers, nuzzling his cheek. The pain in her head intensified until she thought her head would explode, but when he groaned, she eased up on the pheromone and chuckled. “That’s what I thought.” Glancing down, she noted the firm erection straining his trousers. A look at Vincent showed him similarly fixed.