Page 126 of Illicit Temptation

The four darkly-cloaked men sitting with me give each other hand signals and next, I’m on the floor of the helicopter with them dogpiled on top of me.

“What is happening?”I scream, but my voice is drowned out by insanely loud metal dinging on the skin of the helicopter.

Shattering glass explodes all around me.

The helicopter pulls up, twists around, and then falls into a steep nose dive while Malone screams.

I look up in horror to see his head hanging off his body and blood everywhere. Someone killed him. But he’s the fucking pilot!

One of the men on top of me pulls me toward the door and opens it. That’s when I catch it.

That wasn’t a bird. It was a drone. But it zips away like a Quidditch Snitch.

That same man yells at me, “Come on!”

“What?” I yell back. “Where?”

“We’re jumping.”

“Jumping! I can’t—” I don’t finish that because my jacket’s outer layer is ripped away exposing...

A parachute.

I refused to go skydiving when Larke invited me. Not that my brothers would let me if they found out. But now I have no choice. No training. No coaching.

“Pull this when I tell you.” The man closes my hand around the ripcord.

A tight grip around my hand tugs me and then... We’re falling. Tumbling in the air. I feel everything I’ve ever eaten jostle around my stomach.

“Now!” the man says, still holding me by the waist, the sting in my ribs from the last time I was abducted aching.

I tug hard and the chute opens, but I’m immediatelypropelled back, slipping from his grasp. His opens a second later, and he’s got me in his arms again.

My emotional wall collapses, and I start to weep. My bones and my skin feel disconnected. I might have even peed in my pants.

The man clips me to the front of his body, putting us in a tandem position, and then cuts my chute away. We dip briefly, my stomach ready to revolt. He maneuvers his chords and barks instructions in my ear as we come close to the ground.

But I tumble anyway, tangling limbs with this stranger who saved my life.

We’re on the ground, but seconds later, he’s pulling me up. “We’re over here!” he yells to the others who’ve also landed.

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?”

“Home, lass.” The man pulls off his riot helmet and a tumble of shaggy auburn hair shakes out, falling rakishly over a handsome-as-hell face.

“Griffin!” I yell at him, pounding my fists against his chest.

“It’s me, lass.” He hugs me.

I can’t stop the tears, even if I feel so completely safe right now. “Who’s...” I start thinking maybe I’m hallucinating. Maybe I’m dead. “Who’s that with you?”

The other men lift off their helmets.

Connor, Shane, and Rhys Quinlan smile. Why are they smiling? Trace is dead. Maybe we’re all dead!

“You okay, lass?” Shane asks me.

“No!” I bellow. “I’m not okay. Trace is back there. Shot. Bleeding out. He may be dead, we have to go back and get him.”

---