Page 39 of Her Mercenary

I thought he’d left me, when suddenly, his hand gripped mine, the touch like a bolt of lightning through my body. He guided me around the edge of the cliff—then pulled me into it. The temperature dropped quickly, the heavy humidity replaced with cool, crisp air scented with damp earth.

A cave.

Intermittent flashes of moonlight danced along the rock wall, illuminating the mouth of a tiny crevice that speared into the cliff. The space was so narrow that we could only fit in one at a time.

The King pulled me along, guiding me deeper as my eyes adjusted to inky blackness and random flashes of moonlight.

We stopped and he turned, put his hands on my naked waist, and pulled me to him, our bodies pressing together as he wedged around me. My skin ignited with the touch of his.

With his hands on my shoulders, he guided me backward until my back was against the end of the cave, his body solidly blocking mine from the opening. Again I was trapped, but this time I believed it was for my safety.

Following his lead, I froze and held my breath as he appeared to be listening for something.

Finally, he said, “Sit.” When I did, he shifted his stance where he could see both me and the cave entrance in his peripheral vision.

I stared at the silhouette of his face. “Who are you?” I whispered into the darkness.

He was a massive black outline looming over my half-naked body.

“My name is Roman Thieves. I’m here to save you.”

21

ROMAN

Well, fuck.

Never deviate from the plan. And yet I’d deviated the fuck from that plan.

I was supposed to get Sam alone, ask her about the USB, wait for Conor’s arrival, buy her, then hand her off to Bear, who would deliver her home.

Then I would deal with the son of the man who’d killed my mother.

I hadn’t planned on the guards lingering outside the bedroom door like the horny fucking bastards they were. I hadn’t planned on them sneaking back in while I’d met secretly with Lucas in a separate wing of the lodge. I hadn’t planned on the uncontrollable rage that consumed me when I saw them on top of her.

And most of all, I hadn’t planned on fucking killing them.

Fucking Christ.

“You are Conor Cussane.” Four words I’d also never planned on hearing.

What the fuck? Why did the guard think I was Conor Cussane?

“They all know,” he’d said.

Who? Who knew what? Who thought I was the leader of the CUN?

And why? Where had they gotten that idea?

These questions would have to wait as I had another, more pressing, much more beautiful matter to deal with.

After Bear had taken out the rooftop shooter from his perch on the cliff, and I was certain Samantha had made it safely into the jungle, I’d eliminated the guard who’d seen everything from the hallway, tossing his body out the window and dragging him—and the rooftop shooter—into a nearby utility shed before taking off after her. Two dead bodies remained in the room. I couldn’t risk the time it would take to hide those bodies. And even then, how could I? Blood was everywhere.

Bear and I had lost contact after the shooting. I assumed he was repositioning his post closer to the lodge—and reloading, for that matter. I didn’t care. My sole focus was getting to Samantha.

Four men were dead—three by my own hands—blowing my plan to shit. Soon, legions of Conor Cussane’s men would be combing the woods, searching for Samantha Greene.

What would happen if they found her? I couldn’t fathom what those evil motherfuckers would deem as her punishment.

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