Page 90 of Shockproof

“Give me his name, Martindale, and I’ll give him the proper execution we both know he deserves.”

Rather than acknowledge the tear rolling down her cheek, she kicks her chin out, strengthens her spine for what will almost certainly be the last time, and coldly states, “Ivan Rosenkrantz.”

Chapter 15

Arley

They say it’s wrong to judge.

I think it’s the perfect thing do when you’ve been kidnapped.

Pay attention to your surroundings.

Mark the openings.

Assess your chances of escaping for survival.

If the risk ratio is low enough, fucking go for it.

I damn sure am.

Twisting my rope tied wrists back and forth abruptly stops when the man who had someone literally crash into us in our parking garage returns from wherever he momentarily wandered off to when he ended his call to Slater.

As easy as it would be to sit here and less than patiently wait for my cowboy to come riding in on a white seahorse, it’s not logical.

Nor the right move for optimal survival.

I’m sure protocol would dictate otherwise, but this isnota drill.

And I’m not some braindead client who can’t assist in her own rescue.

If I can get out of here, maybe I can hide somewhere else on this ship or get to a sat phone or even a loaded weapon.

Hell, I will fire a fucking harpoon through someone at this point!

“Comfortable?” The dark-haired male inquires at the same time he sits on the opposite couch, dark gray lettering almost frozen solid during its descent to the ground. He gestures an open palm in my direction with a vile grin. “All things considered.”

Not sneering at his rose beige goatee covered face is impossible, along with impractical.

Come on.

Does anyone outside of a poorly put together Netflix movie honestly welcome the bad guy with a smile?!

“I see you managed to spit out your own gag.” An amused grin is offered. “Impressive mouth work.” His smirk transitions to one more repulsive. “Wahl is most certainly a lucky man.”

Ugh.

My lack of response doesn’t seem to falter his speaking. “Do you know who I am?”

The man my future husband is going to slaughter probably isn’t the answer he’s looking for.

Rather than respond with the obvious, I resume my wrist movements; however, I focus on keeping the rest of my figure completely still to avoid detection.

“Do you recall seeing my face in your files?”

Nope.

Although now I’m wondering if I should have?

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