Page 87 of Dangerous Devotion

You’re not a killer. A soldier, maybe even a manipulator. An idiot and a bastard, but an executioner? No, you’re not a killer, Shaw.

“There has to be a better way,” he said at last. “There has to be a better way.”

His voice rang with a hint of panic as he obviously tried to think his way out of this situation, searching for a loophole that wouldn’t paint his hands in her blood.

The voice on the phone scoffed. “You can’t tell me you never killed anybody.”

His reply came in measured words. “I give the orders to my men in battle.”

May felt like she was being smothered by the silence that stretched on and on and on until she was suffocating from it.

“Then give the order,” the speaker said. “If you can’t do the job, then find someone who can.”

No more words projected through the metal door—the only barrier between May and the man who had been ordered to take her life.

She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

If this was a storage unit, somebody could be around. She could yell. If she heard most of a muffled conversation through a metal door, her screams might be heard.

When she heard a metallic clinking sound, panic flooded through her.

She had to pretend to be unconscious for as long as possible. It was her only hope of survival. Simpson didn’t want to do the deed at all, and pretending she wasn’t awake could buy her time.

Or end her life even faster.

He might be the kind of guy who would kill an unconscious woman to spare his own personal sensibilities.

May lay on her side, letting her limbs go limp and her eyes slip closed in what she hoped was a convincing facsimile of unconsciousness.

It was her only defense.

Holding her breath, she listened to the big metal door roll upward. Then to Simpson’s footsteps as he entered the storage unit.

May’s panic reached a new high. Fighting it back, she tried to send out a mental cry to AJ. Her lover. The man she wanted to spend so much more time with. Weeks—years, decades.

A lifetime.

She had no plan. She had no backup, no training. No goddamn tracker even. Why, ohwhyhad she been so stubborn and defied AJ’s ability to know how to protect her?

Why didn’t he argue with her about her refusal more? Was she really so difficult that he’d just given up rather than argue with her?

She clearly had to work on her communication skills. Of course, she had to live to use them.

Right now…she was completely at Simpson’s mercy.

Stay unconscious. Stay still.

And pray that a plan came to her.

* * * * *

The phone went dead in Henner’s ear. He swung his hand down, the phone locked in his too-tight grip. He didn’t give a fuck if the device shattered and sliced his palm to ribbons. Nothing mattered at this moment but getting May back.

When he spoke, his voice sounded like he’d breathed in fire. “No bomb. No May.”

Cobra stepped up to him and took the phone. After a glance at the screen, he saw that the call with Con had been disconnected. Actually, there was no call at all. He’d gone straight to voicemail.

Cobra’s stare sharpened. “What the fuck, Chickie? Talk to me.”

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