“You couldn’t have done anything, buddy. I did it to myself.”
“But a barroom brawl?”
“This asshole was trying to rape a girl in the bathroom. I stopped it. Beat the guy a little too hard.” I couldn’t tell him the entire truth. What good would it do other than further his hatred of Alexander?
“Whew. You’re a free man now. Just remember that.”
I turned my head, watching him walk away. I’d already thought about that. I’d made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t get involved in any shady shit or care about anyone for the rest of my damn life. Yet here I was, attracted to a woman who wanted me dead. I sure knew how to pick ‘em.
I moved to the edge of the trees, easing down onto the rocky sand. She could see me if she tried, but at this point, the only movement was the swaying of the trap because of the heavy breeze. The light wafting also allowed me to catch a whiff of her perfume, the exotic spices adding to my arousal. Damn it. I had to shift my cock in my jeans, the pinch becoming agonizing.
I forced myself to look away but couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her. I’d never been much for patience of any kind, and Alexander had taught all of us to take what we wanted. That had been my mantra my entire life.
At least until now.
Another five minutes passed, and she didn’t move at all. I couldn’t take it any longer. Jerking to my feet, I headed toward the ocean, purposely shifting against the rope. While I refused to look at her at first, I was rewarded with the sound of slight movement. When I was only a few inches from the water, I took a deep breath. The secluded island was too surreal, something straight out of a damn fantasy. It wasn’t real life for anyone else, yet Alexander had purchased the island and had the elaborate main house and twenty guest houses built. The place would make a fabulous vacation spot, only the plans he had for the location had nothing to do with rest and relaxation.
Those partaking in the long weekend or week getaway would be subject to the same kind of hunt. The boobytraps were just Alexander’s test of how his more primitive ones would work. I wasn’t certain it was something I wanted to invest in, although the idea was sexy as hell.
After a few minutes of basking in the sun, I turned toward her. She was staring at me intently. I didn’t need to be close in order to realize what she was doing or that there was hatred in her eyes. I took a deep breath, heading in her direction. When I was only two feet away, she smiled.
“Prison. You killed a man.”
Her words weren’t accusatory, but to her they held a strong meaning. “Yes, I did. You already know the circumstances. I don’t think we need to talk about it any further. It’s time for you to face round one of your punishments.”
When I approached, she did what she could to slink away. But the words she issued stunned me, more so than I could believe.
“I don’t give a damn about the circumstances. You got what you deserved. What a shame you were set free.”
* * *
Cassie
I’d almost caught a slight glimpse of a human behind his cold, hard stare. The flash coming from them was now nothing but the eyes of a venomous snake preparing to strike. I’d never seen such a quick change in demeanor as I had as soon as I’d uttered the wretched words. They’d done more than sting. They’d driven a rusty razor-edged blade directly into his heart.
Sadly, I was no longer certain if I’d meant them.
Brogan’s jaw clenched as he held the sharp glare. Then he took three long strides toward me, yanking out a hunter’s pocketknife. When he flicked the steel blade open, the glisten from the sun highlighted the razor-sharp teeth.
Just like in my vision.
I shrank back as much as the thick netting would allow, never taking my eyes from him as he advanced. The muscles in his forearms were as tense as those in his chiseled face. He was the epitome of a barroom brawler, his extensive martial arts training allowing him the capability of killing a man with one hand.
Which is what had happened inside a tiny bar on the outskirts of Albuquerque years before. The media had called him a monster, highlighting the man he’d killed with a single blow as an American hero, recently returned from the war. How dare an outsider come into their tightly knit community and steal one of their own.
There were always two sides to every story, but Brogan had said very little after being arrested and in court. The news media had captured everything. Then his ten minutes of infamous fame had disappeared along with any mention of his name. I’d just opened the wound, enough that I feared he would kill me.
The big, brawny man had no issue slicing through the rope that had been wound around one of the massive tree trunks. Instead of allowing the trap to plunge to the hard sand, he guided it gently, the rope sliding through his fingers. When I was safely on the ground, he took his time folding and shoving the knife into his pocket before returning. His expression was that of a true predator.
I fought with the rope, doing everything I could to get myself out, but the harder I struggled, the more the heavy twine collapsed on me. Every sound I made I loathed, the stupid yelping like the sound of an injured sow just before slaughter. I wasn’t that kind of girl. I knew how to fight with the best of them.
My ridiculous thoughts were based on terror of the unknown, a self-admittance that I’d been not only stupid but out of my freaking mind.
Brogan ripped at the rope, easily creating a hole large enough to yank me through like a doll. He held me aloft for a few seconds, his upper lip curling as my arms flailed, trying to gain any leverage. When he eased me down, the expression on his face was now carnivorous, a primal man hungry for a feast.
I couldn’t stop shaking as he kept his firm grip on my arms, digging his muscular fingers into my skin in such a way the pressure was stimulating instead of painful.
“You will tell us everything you know,” he growled. The husky tone of his voice was much darker than the others’, electrified from years spent behind bars. I could tell what he was thinking, the filthy things he wanted to do to me.