Page 64 of Hidden Attraction

Nobody except the commander, his assistant Rezvan and the prisoner in the brig, Hyde. Plus Mahmoud and a handful of Red Cross workers they’d encountered. Some of those people she trusted more than others, but they’d all been cleared, at least in her mind.

She and Julian were far across the world, thousands of miles away from where the last attack took place.

Someone must have been watching that alley, waiting for their chance.

Her stomach pitched and heaved with the thread of a theory that seemed more and more like the only possibility.

Back in New York, Julian had guarded her like a human tank, crashing into those attackers like a wrecking ball.

This time he didn’t even know she was gone.

Tears burned in the backs of her eyes. She bit down on them hard.No,she told herself.They’re not worth it.

One of her kidnappers spoke in clipped syllables, a language she didn’t understand, but the anger vibrating in his tone wasn’t something she could miss.

The van slowed, tires shrieking in protest as it turned sharply to the left. There was no way to brace herself before the brakes locked down, hurling her violently forward again and bruising her ribs more.

Before she could even process the impact, rough hands seized her. One dug painfully into her arm, another clamped on the back of her neck like a vise. They yanked her out of the vehicle and forced her upright before her feet could find up from down.

She stumbled, disoriented and dizzy.

She couldn’t stop the tears this time.

They spilled down her cheeks, soaking into the stifling fabric of the hood. Her heart battered her ribs with a thunder of helplessness.

She knew before they ever removed the hood there would be no Julian crashing through the dark to save her. She would disappear into the shadows like smoke, and no one would ever find her.

Not even the man she loved.

FOURTEEN

Tires screamed like dying animals.

Chase bolted upright in bed, hand already on his weapon, that noise wiping all traces of sleep from his mind.

“Alyssa?” His voice was a guttural bark.

No answer.

He leaped out of bed. Charging through the bungalow, all he needed was a cursory glance over the space to know she wasn’t inside.

“Alyssa!” His roar shook the flimsy walls as he reached the door. He threw it open and sprinted, barefoot and in his underwear. The rough ground grated the soles of his feet, but his gaze was fixed on the head of the alley.

Two doors slammed hard enough to echo like a blast down the narrow path between buildings where Chase ran. His heart pounded against his ribs.

A dark van peeled out, tires spinning to gain traction on the street.

He sprinted full speed, no hesitation. The evening light was the kind that made everything look shadowed and more dangerous. His bare feet skidded, and he felt a hard stone slice into his flesh. Ignoring the cut, he scanned the street, wild-eyed. Dark liquid puddled on the ground and a paper cup rolled on the sidewalk.

He was too late. She was gone.

Chest heaving, he bellowed, “Fuck!”

Panic had no place in his existence as a SEAL. As a man who was fucking in love with Alyssa, it did.

He raced back to the safehouse, shoving through the open door so it ricocheted off the inner wall.

Her things were all here—her suitcase, her jacket, her extra pair of walking shoes. What made her leave the safety of the house? Of his arms?

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