Page 1 of No Escape

Chapter One

Clint Becker knew he was in serious trouble the first minute his eyes fell on feisty Sarah Reynolds, a dynamite little package with too many fucking curves, a sassy mouth, and an explosive temper to boot. And right now, she was showing about as much common sense as it took to fill a thimble. Her indignant screeching as she was dragged down the long, winding staircase could probably be heard around the coast of Florida, and echoed throughout the house with enough force to break someone’s eardrums. She was apparently too dense to realize the two goons pulling her along were probably the same two who were going to kill her when the time came.

Fuck, his gut was telling him that what he'd thought was going to be a piece of cake assignment was going to turn into a royal pain in his ass.

Shaking his head with disgust, he ducked behind a door. How come his cousin hadn’t warned him he’d be dealing with a little spitfire? There was nothing he could do but wait for the right time before making his move. The less he had to deal with her, the better their chances were of getting out of there alive. And besides, maybe if they roughed her up a little, she’d be more subdued by the time he got to her. It would certainly make her a hell of a lot easier to manage if she was submissive enough to appreciate the situation she was in.

He leaned against the wall, not for the first time wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. Rescuing damsels in distress wasn’t on his resume, especially when he wasn’t getting paid for it. But then, he couldn’t very well have turned down Susan’s plea for help. She’d never asked him for anything before. The fact that her brother Mark had been his partner for eight years had been the deciding factor. They’d had some wild times together before it had all ended six months prior to Mark’s death.

All at once a loud grunt interrupted Clint’s thoughts, producing a reluctant grin. How had his sweet, quiet cousin ever gotten mixed up with the screaming banshee below? His gut warned him that Miss Reynolds was going to be more trouble than she was worth, and his instincts were never wrong. He relied on them. He chanced a glance down, shaking his head when he saw her struggling wildly in a situation she had no hope of winning.

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“Get your filthy hands off me!” Sarah hissed. She sounded like the wild bird that screeched outside her window every night, but she didn’t give a flying rip. She’d been roughed up, and kidnapped to God knows where. She was tired, dirty, and more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. “I can walk on my own! Let me go!” she demanded between tightly clenched teeth.

She stumbled halfway down a set of stairs that seemed to go on forever. The two overgrown gorillas manhandling her could care less that they were hurting her or that her short legs couldn’t keep up with them. All they cared about was getting her from point A to point B as fast as possible. Sarah knew she’d never break their hold, but she struggled anyway, crying out with anger and pain when their hands cut like vicious talons, deeply into her arms.

Sensing her four-day ordeal was coming to an end, a sharp rush of apprehension ran through her abused body. Until now, she’d been locked up in a room that had bars over the windows. The only contact she’d had since the whole nightmare began had been with these same two men and they’d barely spoken to her or given her the time of day. They’d made sure she was fed and let her use the bathroom on occasion and that was all.

I should probably thank God they hadn’t tried to molest me.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, she tried again to break free, getting a painful squeeze for her efforts. She sucked in her breath. She’d never been the crying kind and wasn’t about to start now. Their treatment had her seeing red, and she reacted without thinking. Turning toward the bully who seemed to take the greatest pleasure in hurting her, she gave his leg a swift, hard kick.

Her soft tennis shoes didn’t exactly produce the response she longed for, but the man did let out a loud grunt, more from annoyance than actual pain she was sure. The next thing Sarah knew he was raising his arm in retaliation. He was big enough to kill her with one whack, and she swallowed the scream rushing up her throat, closing her eyes to brace for the blow.

“Mano!” She heard an angry shout, and then something followed in rapid Spanish.

Her eyes flew open, her gaze following the sound to a man standing in an open doorway. Her first impression was that he reeked of arrogance and wealth; the power those luxuries provided was evident in his bearing. A man of average size, she guessed his age to be somewhere around fifty. He had the nerve to glare at Mano as if he could break the man in half.

When his eyes finally fell on her, she resisted the urge to glance away. Something in his gaze sent a shiver of alarm down her spine. “Bring Miss Dansberry in,” he said in a silky tone, dismissing them as he turned.

Sarah’s heart pounded loudly in her ears as she was led into a room, relieved to find it wasn’t a dungeon of torture. Her first instinct was to tell him she wasn’t Miss Dansberry, but the words wouldn’t come. A thousand and one things went through her mind, none of them pleasant. Susan Dansberry was Sarah’s business partner, and more than that, her best friend.

What in the world did this man want with Susan? Was she in some kind of trouble?

“Please sit down.” He indicated one of the Queen Ann chairs in front of a large Queen Ann desk. Left with the impression she didn’t have a choice, Sarah watched him move around to the other side, where he sat in his own heavily padded chair. He was practically swallowed up in it.

Her arms were abruptly released, and she gratefully sank down into the nearest chair, still trying to figure out what he wanted with Susan and how anyone could possibly confuse them. Susan was tall and slender, with brown eyes, brown hair and a pretty face.

Sarah, on the other hand, was short, barely reaching five foot three, which made her figure seem a little too full and soft to suit her. Her one hundred and twenty pound frame had always been too busty, too hippy, and no amount of exercise had been able to change that. At least she had a small waist. She had tons of blonde hair, and right now, she was tossing the tangled mass over her shoulders, her green eyes glaring at the man who apparently was in charge.

He seemed civilized. She hoped he took in her torn blouse and dirty jeans and felt some sort of regret she’d been treated so shabbily by his men. “I want to know why I was drugged and brought here. Who are you and—”

“I’ll be asking the questions,” he interrupted sharply, leaning forward on his desk and directing a scowl at her. “I went to a lot of trouble to get you here in one piece,” he emphasized, one gray brow arching until it reached his severe widow’s peak.

Well, so much for his feeling remorse. “How considerate of you.” Sarah’s sarcastic tone was met with icy disapproval, making her realize she might have gone too far. After all, she didn’t know what he was capable of, besides kidnapping. A sinister light in his watchful eyes made her blood run cold, and she fought against the urge to squirm in her seat. Instead, she forced herself to sit back and cross her arms, striving for calmness. She glanced around the room, looking for an avenue of escape.

“Now we will get down to business, Miss Dansberry.” He opened a decorative box and took out a long, fat cigar. “My name is Raul Rodriguez, and I believe you have something that belongs to me.” He ran his fingers along the smooth brown cigar almost lovingly before bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply.

Sarah watched him put it in his mouth, light it, and take several deep puffs before realizing he was waiting for her response. “I don’t know what you mean.” It was the truth. She wondered if his name would mean anything to Susan. This was not the time to tell him he had the wrong woman. She sensed an undercurrent of violence, and the man’s no nonsense attitude was not to be taken lightly. His politeness was definitely a ruse put in place in the hopes of setting her at ease while getting what he wanted.

She knew his type.

“Your brother never mentioned me?” One eyebrow rose higher in disbelief over dark, scrutinizing eyes.

Sarah was an only child. But Susan had a brother Mark, who’d been killed in a horrible accident a few months before. Sarah had only met him a few brief times during the years, mostly around the holidays. His business had kept him away for long periods of time as he traveled all over the world, so Susan hadn’t seen him in three years. Flying to Montana for the funeral had been a difficult time for her. It had been a closed casket service because of his injuries, so Susan hadn’t been able to see him to say goodbye.

Sarah’s mind worked at trying to recall any conversations between them that might explain what this was all about, but nothing came to mind.

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