“It is. So don’t make me take one of my arms from around your waist to shoot you or those guys. Let’s go.” She sat on the edge of the cliff, her feet dangling above nothing, then tugged him gently backward until the rig bore his weight.
Cash fed out some rope and began walking down the rock as she hugged his waist tight. It was clunky with her dangling between his legs but manageable, so he kept going, doing everything in his power to ignore her face pressed awfully close to his groin. If someone had bet him ten million dollars back in the casino that this was how his day would end up, he would have taken the wager…and lost.
They were more than three-quarters of the way to the surface of the water before pebbles bounced around them from the approach of his father’s goons.
The woman clinging to him grabbed his ass. “Faster. Almost there.”
“Should we cut the rope?” one of the security guards asked.
“What? Why would they do that with you on it?” The woman glanced up at Cash and he grimaced. This might be where she discovered he was worthless to his father. And therefore, to her.
“If you thought I was your insurance…sorry.” He grunted as he skidded along ten feet or so on an undercut section of the escarpment. Her back grazed the sharp surface, but she didn’t so much as flinch. “Shit. Hang on.”
“Not planning on letting go,” she mumbled against his abs.
Sweat beaded on his brow and rolled down his chest. Whether from the exertion or her nearness, he couldn’t convincingly say.
He might have worried about it if the rope didn’t start vibrating in his hand. “They’re doing it. Fuck.”
“Focus.” She growled and he could feel her arms beginning to tremble around his hips.
Cash moved faster, less carefully, bouncing them against the cliff. They were probably about twenty feet away from the crests of the waves when the roar of an outboard engine caught his attention. “Is that our ride?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed. And before he realized what she was doing, she dropped away, cannonballing into the sea.
“Holy shit!” He glanced down to find his feet could nearly touch the water, so he kicked off his shoes then let out all the line. As soon as he splashed down, she was there, clutching his shirt in her fist as if to keep him afloat. Not necessary.
It was less than a minute before someone was fishing them from the sea. The woman jammed him into the low point of the keel before throwing herself over him like a bright red wet blanket when a shot rang out from above.
“Are you trying to kill me or save me?” he asked with a grunt.
“Hell if I know anymore.” She finally relaxed as whoever was driving the boat gunned the ridiculously overpowered engines and sped away from land.
It was the last thing she would say to him as they made their way to a neighboring island, picked up some dude and a giant gun—likely the one that had destroyed the balcony railing instead of Cash’s brains.
She and the sniper, however, said an awful lot with the glares they exchanged during the entire bouncy, uncomfortable ride. It was far too late for Cash to change his mind, so all he could do was wonder what sort of bullshit he’d gotten himself into.
5
Cash had given up asking them who the fuck they were and where they were taking him. To be honest, shouting over the noise of the engine and the slap of the aluminum hull on the waves they screamed over wouldn’t have been very effective anyway. So he hunkered down, drenched and wind whipped, and tried not to shiver to death.
When they docked at a private island much lower and flatter than the one they’d smuggled him from, he spotted a private jet that rivaled something out of his father’s fleet perched on the runway.
His shock and curiosity had just about worn off, replaced by discomfort and irritation. Who the fuck did these people think they were? They could have killed him on purpose or by accident. And the blood oozing from the woman’s back where she’d caught the projections of the cliff did nothing to calm him either.
The instant they were within reach, she stood and leapt gracefully to the dock despite the ruined dress now plastered to her. The sniper they’d picked up shoved Cash’s shoulder none too lightly. “Go on.”
Cash did as he checked around for somewhere to bail to without much luck. Sandwiched between the man and woman, he marched toward the waiting jet, which was capable of whisking them off to pretty much anywhere in the world. Why?
He hesitated.
“Get in the plane,” the man growled. Without the din around them, Cash noticed he had a fairly thick accent. Indian, maybe. He also happened to be nearly as hot as the woman.
Damn, what was wrong with him? Had it really been so long since he’d gotten laid that he was finding his captors attractive? It must be the leftover adrenaline coursing through his system. “Not until you tell me who you are and where we’re going.”
“Did you forget? I still have my gun.” The woman tapped it against her hip, then gestured with the barrel at the stairs.
“You don’t want to shoot me. You could have a thousand times already.” Cash snorted at her.