Page 4 of Lord of Ruin

“Because, sweetheart. I said so and right now, I am the man in charge, the one holding a gun to that pretty little head of yours. I suggest you remain a very obedient little girl.”

CHAPTER 2

Jenna

The terror skittered through me even more than when I’d been kept hostage on the street, except for inside my clinic I had some sharp instruments. If I could break free of his hold, maybe I could do some damage since I knew the perfect location to cut a human so they bled out faster. Great, now I was using all the years of medical and veterinary school to contemplate murder. Perfect.

Okay, so I wasn’t a killer, but I refused to play victim to anyone.

My hands were fumbling as I tried to shove the key into the lock, dropping the lot of them, the clang against the metal door making me gasp.

“Relax, princess. Just take a deep breath.”

His words of comfort were just as infuriating as they were terrifying, the ugly thoughts of what I wanted to do to him remaining in my mind. He kept the full weight of his body mostly pressed against me as he dropped to the ground grabbing the keys. As his hand swept up from the small of my back to my shoulders, I bit back a strangled sound.

He was very gentle in handing me the set of keys, even brushing hair that had dropped free from my ponytail out of my face.

“Now, take your time, sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine.”

In whose world was he talking about? I’d read enough terrible stories in the news about victims who never recovered mentally from something like this. His accent was far too absorbing, definitely Greek now that he’d spoken several sentences. And his scent was incredible, musky and slightly citrusy with hints of cardamom and ginger, cinnamon and pepper.

I certainly knew just how nervous I was if I was deciphering his aftershave instead of trying to figure out how to remain alive. Concentrating, I finally managed to unlock the door on the second try, slowly opening the door.

“Is anyone else here?” he asked in the same husky voice.

“Does it look like it? It’s pitch-black inside.” Oh, great. Now I was being snarky with a man holding a weapon.

I wasn’t certain whether I should be comforted by his chuckle to my less than appropriate joke but at least I hadn’t pissed him off any more than the dead guy had done.

“Why don’t we turn on a light?”

I rolled my eyes, grateful he couldn’t see it but did as he asked. As soon as light flooded the facility, he took that moment to push me into the front room, closing and locking the door behind us. I backed away, placing my purse in an easily accessible location. I had my phone inside, although I had a feeling he was far too much of an expert to allow me a single chance at making contact with the outside world.

I spun around to face him, shocked at the man standing only a few feet away. While I was no fool in that criminals came in all sizes, shapes, and economic statuses, I was floored how incredibly good looking he was. His shoulder-length shaggy dark hair seemed to glisten in the fluorescent light, his deep blue eyes reminding me of the finest sapphires under the sparkling LED lights.

But it was his perfectly chiseled, aristocratic features that set him apart from the thousands of men I walked past on a daily basis. With his square jaw and the two-day stubble, carved cheekbones and skin tinged with a hint of a bronze hue, he appeared as if he’d walked off a runway for a men’s fashion magazine. Except even in what was easily a five- or six-thousand-dollar suit, he still appeared to be one of the most rugged and masculine men I’d ever laid eyes on.

That didn’t take away from the fact he was a cold-blooded killer.

“Who are you?” I asked, my tone a tiny bit demanding.

He wore a look of amusement on his face as he slowly lowered his gaze all the way to my ratty tennis shoes. Of course the bastard was concentrating on just how horrible I must look in my rattiest of clothes. “Are you sure you’re a veterinarian?”

“Yeah, the diploma I hung on the wall from Cornell University makes it all nice and official. You know, an Ivy League college and one of the best veterinary schools in the country? Oh, maybe you wouldn’t know since you’re obviously nothing but a thug.”

“Awful mouthy for a woman who witnessed a murder.”

Oops. There was that. “Not by choice but yes, I’m a goddamn vet and this is my place.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then you might prove to be helpful.”

“How so?”

He slowly eased his weapon into the side pocket of his linen jacket, wincing as he took it off. That’s what I noticed his light blue shirt was soaked with blood. He’d been shot. Swallowing hard, I fought the increasing nerves as I stared at him, finding it impossible to look away or even blink.

“What do you want me to do?”

His smirk was just as reprehensible as the fact he was here, barging in on my place of business where he’d likely start to bleed on my nice clean tile floor at any moment. Damn the man. Damn the fact I hadn’t left earlier.

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