Men Of Honour. Lori Foster
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I’d rather not take anything else for a while.”
“They were probably some kind of hallucinogen. Or maybe tranqs.”
Reminded of how the pills had made her feel, she stiffened, pushed back from him a little to look up at his barely visible face. “I detest being out of control.”
He went curiously still. “Now?”
“No, when they were doping me.” She remembered the lack of control over her sluggish limbs, how her mind dredged up such ridiculous, vague and misty dreams. Everything was surreal, implausible, insubstantial. “I don’t drink, and I never, ever took drugs. I’ve never even smoked pot. And then to have them force me … It was awful. Why would anyone ever drug themselves on purpose?”
He relaxed again. “No idea.”
She believed him. Dare was a man who enjoyed being in charge. He wouldn’t blunt that ability for the sake of kicks or a quick high.
More to herself than to him, Molly whispered, “I like being me, not a loopy version of me.”
He said nothing to that.
Needing to talk, to drive away the remnants of that dream, she again looked up at him. “The other women … You said you saved one, but there were others there, too. What happened to them?”
“Four of them were apparently local, because as soon as I freed them and told them it was clear, they took off.”
“I hope they’re all right.”
He shrugged. “They seemed to know right where they wanted to go.”
“Those men …” Damn it, she had difficulty finishing thoughts, much less sentences. “They were so cruel, taunting the women, pawing them.”
His muscles seemed to bulge. “The blond woman. They pawed her?”
Icy anger sounded in his tone. “Sometimes, but I got the impression she was too valuable to abuse. They said she’d bring a lot of money.” Now Molly soothed him, clutching his big shoulder. “She’s the one you saved? The one you said is like family?”
“Yes.”
She put her cheek against his chest again. “Where is she now?”
His hug was automatic, for them both. “With her brother. Safe.”
Safe. Such a strange concept, but Molly now knew that no one was ever really safe. “I’m glad. She’s so young.” His warmth seeped into her, making her drowsy again. “I tried talking to her, but she was too afraid.”
Looking down at her, he asked, “And you weren’t?”
“I’ve never in my life known that kind of fear.” The dark and quiet of the small room, the casualness of his touch, made it easier to talk. “Dare, can I tell you something?”
He shifted, almost like he was settling in for something monumental. “Yes.”
How to explain it? A prisoner was a prisoner—but she’d been imprisoned differently. “I wasn’t like the others.”
Rather than question her meaning, he just said, “I know.”
Did he? “Those girls were in their late teens or very early twenties, and they were all stunning. They were kept on one side of the trailer, with more opportunity to bathe. They were given clean clothes. Ridiculously revealing clothes, but still … And they had more food, more water. It was almost like the jerks wanted them to look good. Healthy, I mean.”
“Yeah, I know.”
But Molly frowned at her own words. “I’m not saying they had it any easier than I did. Captivity is captivity, and we were all miserable.”
“But?”
She swallowed. “But … I’m thirty years old.” She twisted to look up at him. “I know I’m plain. And even if I didn’t already know it, I’m not stupid.”
She heard something in his tone when he agreed. “No, you’re far from stupid.”
“They didn’t want me to sell, like they did the others.”
As if he’d already come to that conclusion himself, he said, “No, they didn’t. But then why did they take you? Do you know? Did they say anything?”
They had said plenty, most of it in Spanish. “I’ve gone over it again and again, and I think … I think someone must have paid them to.”
In the quiet security of that small motel room, she counted their breaths, waiting for Dare to react. By small degrees, his muscles again bunched and flexed.
But his hold remained gentle.
When he spoke, he sounded matter-of-fact, as if he believed her without further explanation. “Who?”
Molly squeezed her eyes shut, hating the reality of what her life had become. “That’s the conundrum, isn’t it? I have no idea who I can trust anymore.”
His hand smoothed over her hair, then cupped the back of her skull. “Do you think you can go back to sleep now?”
Not if she had to sleep alone. Hedging, she asked, “What time is it?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? We’re not on a schedule yet.”
But she hated to further inconvenience him. He hadn’t been paid to come after her. He’d probably rescued her with the thought of dropping her on the other side of the border, someone else’s problem to deal with.
Unfortunately, she had no one else right now. “Do you have a flight to catch?”
Before he answered, he urged her back down in the bed. Her head sank into the soft pillow, and the clean sheets, though cheap and scratchy, smelled good. He stayed close as he all but tucked her in.
She should have been alarmed, having a man bending over her, especially a man of Dare’s size and obvious strength.
Instead, she felt more at ease than she had since being grabbed and stuffed into the back of an old van right in front of her own apartment building. She doubted the quaint community in southern Ohio would ever again feel boring to her.
Dare smoothed the covers over her shoulders. “When I’m on a mission like this, I can’t make plans too far in advance. If anything had gone wrong, if I hadn’t been able to get Alani out of there so easily, or if she’d already been moved, then I’d still be tracking her.”
“You wouldn’t have given up on finding her?”
“Never.”
The unwavering conviction in that one word reassured her. Alani was lucky to have someone like Dare caring for her. “How did you know where to look for her?”
He moved to her side, and when Molly thought he’d leave the bed—leave her—he instead propped his back against the headboard. After stretching out his long legs, he said, “I’ve been in this business a long time.”
“How long? You can’t be much older than me.”
“Thirty-two, so I’ve been at it for more than ten years.”
Fascinating. Molly folded a hand under her cheek and got comfortable. “You started young.”
With a shrug, he said, “It suits me.”
“Adrenaline junkie?” she guessed.
“And a control freak—which means I really understand how you detested being so powerless. I’d have hated it, too.”
But he wouldn’t have been so helpless against them. Somehow, Molly thought Dare would have found a way to not only escape, but to wipe the cretins out for good.
He took her silence for interest, which was okay because she found him intriguing. And listening to him kept