Page 28 of His Dark Vendetta

“Nooo!” I wailed and thrashed.

He clamped a hand over my mouth, and my chest heaved as I tried to breathe through my nose. I kicked and squirmed, but he ignored my feeble attempt at fighting back as if it was no more nuisance than a fly.

He started back toward the house, one arm holding me aloft, the other hand covering my mouth. I stopped flailing; I needed to catch my breath if I was going to try and break free.

“For someone with legs as long as yours, you really suck at running,” he snarked in that smug, taunting voice he used any time he wanted to get a rise out of me.

It worked. Winded or not, I balled my fist and aimed for where it would hurt him the most. He swiveled his hips just in time and lifted me further off the ground, and my punch connected with the rock-hard plane of his lower abs instead.

“Stop squirming,” he hissed in my ear, “or I’ll tie you up. And not in a fun way.”

My body went slack. What was the use? He hadn’t even been trying. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. And I believed him when he said he’d tie me up. He was completely unhinged.

He plopped me down inside the front door and slammed it shut. “Take your shoes off,” he barked and pushed past me.

I’d never seen Luca in anything but shirtsleeves, suits, and formalwear. Now he strode into the kitchen in a wifebeater and basketball shorts. The wide span of his shoulders tapered to a trim waist, his round, muscular ass accentuated by the cling of basketball shorts. He yanked the refrigerator door open and pulled out a bottle of water. Not to be outdone by his back, his bare arms, thick with corded muscle, bulged when he twisted the cap off. His pecs flexed indecently beneath the thin material of his shirt. Especially with that gold chain and the pendant that landed at the scoop of the neckline. It drew my attention to a sprinkling of dark, trimmed chest hair.

My brain short-circuited under the assault of all that stereotypical Italian masculinity, and I caught myself gawping. What the hell was wrong with me? The man kidnapped me and sentenced me to death, and my body still reacted like a horny teenager. Worse was the reminder of how I’d fallen for him. How I’d trusted him. How I’d grieved for him when I’d thought he was dead instead of remembering him for what he was—an arrogant asshole.

“I hate you,” I said.

“Ditto. Why the fuck did you run out?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re going to kill me, and I don’t want to die?”

He scowled and took down half the bottle of water. His gaze dropped to my feet. “Shoes.”

“Ugh!” I groaned and rolled my eyes. I toed off my shoes and folded my arms across my chest. “There. Happy?”

He arched an eyebrow and shrugged.

Sunrise poked its head above the tree line beyond the wall of sliding glass doors between the kitchen and the deck. People were probably getting ready for work, taking their morning runs, walking their dogs. Not a great time to commit murder.

“What’s the plan, anyway? I suppose you have to wait until it gets dark before you can toss me off…” I swallowed the lump in my throat and waved a hand through the air. “Something.”

He looked out the French doors and shoved his fingers into his hair. He fisted them at the ends. “I don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean you don’t know yet?”

“I mean, I don’t know yet.”

“You can’t just keep me here.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, kidnapping is illegal.”

He snorted and dropped his arm.

“Eventually people will notice I’m missing.” I’d taken the next two weeks off work. Marco, Anna, and my family knew, but Luca didn’t.

He licked his lips.

I sneered, self-satisfied. “Didn’t think of that, did ya?”

“Oh, I thought about it,” he snarled, “but you’re supposed to be floating in the Charles River right now, not standing in my kitchen.” He set the water bottle down on the island. “With your connections, anyone with a Shaughnessy bone to pick could’ve kidnapped you.” He craned his neck. “And a lot of people have a bone to pick with your family.”

I ground my teeth and averted my gaze. He wasn’t wrong. But neither Ciarán nor Marco would rest until they found out who’d taken me.

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