Page 27 of Stalking His Target

“Give us Taylor Jordan’s whereabouts, and you can have your phone call. Until then, we’re holding you here.”

“Like hell you are!” I rage. “I told you, I don’t know any Taylor Jordan!”

Anger and fury pours out of me. I’m defending a man who’s not even here to defend me. A man who claimed to be my bodyguard but let me be captured by whoever these men are.

I feel more betrayed than ever, but my love for him is higher than I ever believed possible. Two contradictory emotions working overtime to destroy me.

“The man you are protecting is dangerous,” a voice rasps. “He’s a threat to national security. Everything he’s said to you was a lie. Just give us something on him to help us find him and you can go. We promise, Miss Rodriguez.”

“Bullshit!” I snap. But is it?

If Taylor lied to me about our relationship–if he staged my attack just so he could come to my rescue–why should I believe anything he said back at my uncle’s? Maybe he’s a mercenary hired by one of the other cartels to take out their competition.

I’m sobbing now.

My mind is spinning.

Taylor is the problem. He’s the reason I’m here and the reason I’m falling apart, but he’s also the solution. I need him to make this all go away. To make me all better.

But he’s gone.

“Miss Rodriguez–”

“Go away!” I sob. “I’m not telling you anything.”

I hang my head, the zip-ties on my wrists biting into my skin as I lean forward, exhausted from my lack of sleep. There’s silence, then I hear the men walking away. I gasp for breath in a futile attempt to calm myself, fighting back terrible thoughts of what my future holds. But my heart is beating so hard it’s as though it’s trying to pound its way out of my ribcage.

I hear another set of footsteps and almost hope it’s someone coming to kill me. At least then I’d be put out of my misery. I know I’ll never see Taylor again at this point, so what do I have left to live for?

A painful sob rises up in my throat, and I let it out, a choked cry as the footsteps come closer.

They slow, simple scratches on the hard floor.

I feel someone’s presence standing close, then a hand grasps the bag and lifts it off my head.

The light is blinding, and I have to close my eyes immediately to keep the pain at bay. Then I hear his voice.

“It’s me, Layla. I’m here.”

My heart leaps.

“Taylor!” I gasp. “I mean–Ryder!?”

I open my eyes, my vision blurred and foggy as I stare up at the enormous figure standing in front of me. I can’t make out his face, but I don’t have to. I recognize the body, the proportions, the way he stands. And now, without the bag covering my nose, I smell his scent.

“Yes.” He nods. “It’s me, sweetheart.”

He steps behind me, and I hear a snap as he cuts my bindings. I fall forward, but he catches me with his powerful arms. Without thinking, I pound my fists against his chest, letting out the sadness, the anger, the pain of being deceived. And Ryder doesn’t even try to stop me.

“That’s it,” he coos. “It’s okay. I deserve it, my love.”

Joy and despair overtake me, and my legs give out, but again, Ryder catches me and holds me up. He pulls me close and embraces me, kissing me gently on the forehead as we both breathe each other in.

“I’m so sorry, Layla. There was nothing I could do. The agency had to test you to be sure they could trust you. It was the only way they’d allow us to be together.”

My jaw drops. I look up at him, my vision still blurred but better. I can make out his handsome face now, and see an emotion I’ve never seen before from him: shame.

“This…whole thing was a test?” I ask, shocked. “A loyalty test?”

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