Lori Foster - Men of Honour - Ready, Set, Jett / When You Dare / Trace of Fever / Savor the Danger / A Perfect Storm / What Chris Wants / Bare It All

Hearing a noise like a soft moan, Dare zeroed in on the van with his senses on alert. He’d left the rear door open so he’d hear her if she moved, if she awoke…. But she did no more than readjust.

Three hours had passed since he’d carried her out of that trailer. Worry gnawed at him.

Why didn’t she awaken?

“Dare?” His eyes filled with pain, rage and relief, Trace whispered, “Thank you.”

Alani gave an audible swallow, and then she, too, said, “Yes, thank you. So much.”

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Dare replied without words. He’d known Alani for years, watched her grow up, and felt like a pseudo big brother in many ways. He’d attended her graduation, both from high school and college. He’d been there with Alani and Trace when they buried their parents.

They had become part of his hodgepodge family.

Two days ago human traffickers had snatched Alani outside her hotel while she vacationed near the beach. Tomorrow she would have been sold, and finding her after that might have become impossible.

Right now, what the siblings needed was time alone, and Dare needed to sort things out with his remaining passenger. “I should get going.”

Trace followed Dare’s attention toward the van, saw the slim, dirty foot that appeared out of the open rear-passenger door, and lifted one eyebrow in an expression of disbelief. “You have a passenger?”

“A small complication, that’s all.”

“You’re serious?”

Dare shrugged. “There were six women in that small trailer, Trace. Four of them were local and scattered as soon as I got them free.” He nodded his head toward the van. “That one was drugged, near starved, grimy.” And in many ways, even in the cramped confines of the rusty trailer, she’d been separated from the others, kept alone.

For certain, she wasn’t the typical woman kidnapped for the growing sex trade.

Trace grew curious in that quiet way of his. “An American … complication?”

“I think so.” From what he’d seen of her grubby face, she didn’t look foreign. “She hasn’t come to yet, so I haven’t been able to talk to her.”

Alani turned in her brother’s arms, and she, too, looked toward the van. “She fought them whenever she came to. She called them names and almost … egged them on.” Alani shivered in remembered fear. “It was so horrible. The men slapped her around for being mouthy, but she didn’t stop. She just cursed them more.”

Dare frowned. The little idiot might have been killed. “Foolhardy.”

“I think she was really … angry.” As if she couldn’t fathom such boldness, Alani took a breath. “Even when they held her down to force more drugs on her, she didn’t cry. She … raged.”

“Did she speak English?”

Nodding, Alani said, “She sounded American to me. I mean, no accent or anything.”

Considering all that, Dare said aloud, “She wasn’t there for the same purpose as the rest of you.”

“Probably not. Sometimes four or five of them would come in the trailer, but they’d stand around her and I couldn’t see what they did. As far as I could tell, they never really leered at her like …” She bit her lip, shivered again. “Like they did the rest of us. They never seemed to be sizing her up for anything. They just picked on her.”

Trace hugged her again. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

She nodded, shored up by the courage her brother had given her, and faced Dare. “She was there when we got there, already looking pretty bad. Once, before the men drugged her, she told me her name was Molly.”

“Molly what?”

Alani shook her head. “We weren’t supposed to talk, so I was afraid to ask her anything.”

Trace tucked her back in close and asked over her head, “What are you going to do with her now?”

“No idea.” Dare thought of her insubstantial weight when she’d been over his shoulder, of that tangled, light brown hair that had concealed much of her bruised face. “Hopefully someone will pay me for bringing her home.”

Without releasing her brother, Alani reached out and punched Dare for the callous comment. He grinned, caught her wrist and kissed her knuckles.

She’d been given a terrible fright, and two days had probably felt like a month, but Alani had spirit. She’d get through this, thank God.

But the other one … How long had they had her? And why? Impatient with thoughts of her, Dare said, “I gotta run.”

“Hold up a sec.” Trace caught his arm, then dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out a fat envelope.

Pissed, Dare took a step back. “What the hell is that?”

“Expenses. And don’t curse in front of Alani.”

Hell, just because he usually hired out didn’t mean he’d charge a friend—a brother. He’d have gone after Alani if he’d had to crawl the whole way. “I don’t need it.”

Solemn, Trace held the envelope out to him. “But I need you to take it.”

It hit Dare anew how difficult this was for Trace, not just that his sister had been hurt, but that he hadn’t been able to go after her himself.

Dare took the envelope. “Thanks.” He leaned in close. “And for future reference, I resolved the issue of you being recognized.” There was no one left who knew Trace.

Deep satisfaction glittered in Trace’s eyes. He gave a sharp nod. “I should have doubled the amount.”

“No.” Dare’s smile wasn’t friendly. “That was all my pleasure.”

With no further discussion of money, Trace and Alani said their goodbyes and left the lot in Trace’s silver Jag. They’d stay in an upscale hotel for the night and fly home tomorrow. Until then, Trace would keep his sister under very close guard.

Dare stood there, watching them until the purr of the engine faded and their taillights could no longer be seen. Moon shadows surrounded him. Night creatures gave a gentle call.

The peaceful ambiance didn’t deceive him.

Hands on his hips, he looked again toward the van.

Now what?

The hospital, with all those questions and a lack of answers?

A hotel room? That would be his preference, but not with a woman on the brink of death.

If she was on the brink of death. Drugs could be a real complication, giving false symptoms and concealing a true state of health. It was possible that if she’d just come to, she’d be okay.

But maybe not.

Dare needed her to drink, to eat. And it wouldn’t hurt to get the bugs out of her hair.

Before he even realized it, he strode that way, anxious to look in on her again.

One hand on the top of the open door, the other on the side of the car, Dare leaned in—and found her awake. Enormous, bruised eyes dominated her face.

Before he could register that she’d come around, he got a very dirty foot to the face. Hard.

He jerked back. “Son of a—”

The attack took him by surprise, and even with her meager strength, a heel to the nose hurt like hell. But he didn’t want to compound things by overreacting. She’d recovered with a vengeance and most probably a lot of confusion. Though blood trickled from his nose, Dare wasn’t disabled in any way.

With no help for it, he leaned into the backseat and, after a very brief struggle, pinned her down with her arms over her head, her legs caught under his.

Those large, slightly unfocused eyes glared at him. They were dark brown, like rich chocolate, and at the moment filled with a wealth of fear and rage.

She didn’t scream, thank God, just breathed hard and fast and strained against him.

“You’re safe now,” Dare told her while trying to control her in a way that wouldn’t allow her to hurt herself. “You’re in San Diego, not Mexico.”

She blinked fast, giving away her nervousness.