Page 67 of Ruthless Intent

“The doors are locked. You can’t tuck and roll.”

“What?” My head snaps around at his dry words.

“If you’re thinking about trying to jump out ...”

“What happened to taking a walk along the beach, and giving people the chance to see us together?”

“Remembered that I don’t really give a fuck what people think.”

A tap on the keyfob hanging from the ignition opens the gates in front of us.

“Where are we?”

He doesn’t bother answering me, steering the car up the drive and into a parking spot outside the house that comes into view.

“Get out.”

He doesn’t wait for me to speak, just opens the door and climbs out of the car. I don’t move.

Maybe I should send my mom a text and let her know where I am. Or maybe I should text my friends. Not that they could get here in time to stop anything from happening, but at least they’ll know where I am if I suddenly disappear.

The passenger door opens. “Get out, or I’ll drag you out.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“We’ve had this conversation already. You’ve signed the contract. You know what the consequences are if you back out now.”

He doesn’t need to say anything more than that. I know exactly what he means.

I unclip my seatbelt, and get out.

“What is this place?”

He doesn’t answer me, turns his back on me, and walks toward the front door.

I take a minute to look around. The house is large, secluded, and backs onto the forest, which separates most of the town from the highway. I can’t even see the other houses we drove past to get here from where I’m standing on the driveway.

“Ashley.” Zain’s voice is clipped, impatient, and I drag my gaze back to where he’s standing in front of the door. “We’re on a time limit. Get your ass in here.”

Time limit? What? What time limit?

The second I’m beside him, he pushes open the door. Voices reach us. Two male, one female.

“Whose house is this? Friends of yours?”

“No.” His fingers curl around the top of my arm, and he strides forward, almost dragging me along with him.

The hall takes a right turn at the end, and there is an archway leading into a large room with high ceilings. Two men, wearing suits, and a blonde woman in a pale pink dress are standing at the head of the long table.

“Ahh, Mr. Ryder, you’re here.” The older of the two men comes toward us, one hand outstretched. “This is very unusual, but I understand the need for secrecy.” He shakes Zain’s hand, then turns to me. “Ms. Trumont.” I find my hand taken in his and he lifts it to his lips and presses a kiss to my fingers. “A lovely bride, but I didn’t expect you to be so casually dressed.”

“Bride? What?”

“We didn’t want anything extravagant. Something quiet suits us.” Zain ignores my questions, and presses a hand to my spine. “Shall we get on with it?”

I tense my entire body, and refuse to move under the pressure of his palm.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!”

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