The SEAL's Virgin Hostage Page 2

  Giving him my trademark Hollywood smile, I rose from my chair and moved toward the door. Before I exited the room, I turned back. “You forget, boss, I don’t eat fried foods. Fucks up my low body fat percentage.”

  I left, hearing the groans and chuckles of the men behind me and allowed myself a moment to savor my win. I had a feeling it would be a while before I enjoyed one again.

  Ten days in fact.

  2

  Paige

  Looking out the window of the stretch limousine, I saw the lights of storefronts flash by as we headed to Nitro, the newest and hottest—at least for this month—club in Denver. The limousine’s interior light switched on and my gaze was filled with the crowd of people surrounding me. Some friends, most strangers, I wasn’t sure who was who in the crush of bodies.

  Music blared from the limo’s sound system, the beat heavy on the bass. Thump. Thump. Thump. I rubbed at my temple, a dull ache beginning to grow as a loud burst of laughter from the woman beside me was like a punch to my senses. Thank God I hadn’t put my hair up in a complicated messy bun with all the bobby pins; I’d left the blonde lengths to fall down loose to the middle of my back. Tapping my friend Bridget on her arm, I nodded toward the bar fridge. “Get me a bottle of water, please.”

  “Screw water, drink this instead.” She held a glass of bubbly up to my lips, but I brushed the glass away.

  “I’ve got a headache.”

  “Ah, I’ve got something that will chase that away.” With a smile, Bridget reached for the small cylinder-shaped silver charm on her necklace and twisted off the very end, tapping out a tiny pink tablet into the palm of her hand. “Here, take this.”

  I glanced at the tablet. Round and stamped with a smiley face impression, this medication was no generic headache treatment.

  Pills had never been my thing. Drugs in general were a turnoff for me. If I needed to get high to enjoy my surroundings then what was the point of being there? Of course, nobody who read the tabloids would likely believe I wasn’t washing down pills with the finest French Champagne at every occasion.

  “Thanks, but, no.” I gently pushed Bridget’s hand away and ignored the pout forming on her glossy pink lips.

  “You’re not going to be a Debbie downer all night are you?”

  At the sound of the chiding shout, I looked across the limo’s interior at James Osborne. Dressed in dark pants, with a white shirt open to nearly his waist, he leaned forward in his seat. A hank of his shoulder length wavy hair fell over his face, adding to his rocker-look. “It’s Friday night. Live a little.”

  That was James for you. All about the moment…and what suited him.

  I gave him a half-hearted grin. “Once I’m dancing, I’ll feel fine,” I shouted back, immediately regretting my action with my ever-increasing headache. But as I sat cramped in the back of a stretch limousine with ten of my bestest buddies, knowing the names of maybe four, I lamented coming out tonight.

  I smoothed a hand over my designer destroyed denim that I’d teamed with a sapphire colored halter top and reminded myself I had nobody to blame but myself for being stuck here. Yes, James had managed to sway my decision, but I was the one who’d fallen for his pleas not to stay home. He had to be in Los Angeles for a week starting Monday. One of the glossy magazines wanted to do a photo shoot on upcoming entrepreneurs, and James had managed to convince the features editor he had a place on that list.

  To be honest, I didn’t think he was a good fit for the shoot, not being any kind of entrepreneur that I’d ever met. But he’d been my friend for years, not to mention my ex-boyfriend, so of course I’d support him. I wanted what was best for James.

  That only left me and my need to find something meaningful to do besides attending charity dinners and friends’ parties in far off beaches around the world. I had a degree in sociology and had interests and opinions. But when I approached Uncle Felix with a plan to open a community center that catered to low income families and the varying challenges they faced, he shot me down. “Paige, you can’t heal an open wound with a Band-Aid. Do you think these people will take advice from a woman who’s never worked a day in her life?”

  Uncle Felix was right of course. I hadn’t worked a proper job. Sure, I’d been dad’s gopher in his office when I was younger, but that was more me at twelve thinking it was cool helping out and getting to use the copier when Dad worked a weekend deadline and I didn’t want to be left at home with some nanny.

  But when I was eighteen and Dad passed from cancer…everything changed.

  Seven years. Not hearing the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand as he squeezed my shoulder—his way of reassuring me whenever I came to him with a problem.

  My hand rose to my chest and closed around the gold locket hanging there on a long chain. A gift from my dad on my sixteenth birthday. I never took the treasured piece off. Somehow to do so would have been like letting go of Dad.

  I closed my eyes and swallowed against the tightening in my throat.

  I miss you.

  What would he think of me now? Would he—

  “Yay! We’re here.”

  The high-pitched squeal of the girl next to me sliced into my head with brutal force. I blinked and gathered up my tiny rose pink sequined purse from beside me, slid on my leather jacket and let everyone out before me so I didn’t have to maneuver around the throng of bodies.

  The chilly December air was a bracing as I followed everyone past the line of people waiting for admission.

  One benefit of my celebrity, I never waited or had to line up. For anything.

  Not that I would have minded. I wasn’t precious the way the online gossip sites suggested.

  But like a lot of things about me, people just assumed they had me worked out.

  Nitro was located in an old warehouse. The outside looked as dingy as could be with faded old parking and loading dock signs still part of the outside décor. All part of Nitro’s cool chic attraction.

  Approaching the entrance with its phalanx of huge male bouncers dressed all in black, I smiled at the handsome African American guy with a diamond in his ear. “Andre, how are you tonight?”

  “I’m good, Miss Monroe.” He unclicked the red rope from its silver stand and stepped back to allow me and my group through. “Enjoy yourself tonight.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled at the men guarding the large metal door as I passed into the inner sanctum of Nitro, noting the appreciative gleam in their eyes. Luck and good genes had blessed me with appealing looks. Did that make me a better person than anyone else? Not at all. Neither did my bank balance. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say both looks and money helped make my life easier.

  I was no poor little rich girl, no matter what every social media site and tabloid magazine posted. My biggest problem was finding a project that was rewarding and one I could start up without the disapproving presence of Uncle Felix.

  Everyone needed goals in life.

  “Dance floor. Join us when you decide it’s okay to have fun.” James’ reproachful expression lasted seconds before he smirked and pulled a leggy brunette in skinny jeans and sequined top further into the crowd, disappearing in seconds.

  Stepping into Nitro’s shadowy interior, I cast my gaze around the figures cloaked in semi-darkness. Silver leather banquets lined the outer walls, filled with people enjoying themselves. Near the front of the room, right in the center of the floor, was a square bar where stylish patrons sat on barstools and made themselves look as enticing as possible to anyone passing by. Call me cynical, but the set-up looked like an upmarket brothel, people eyeing each other, deciding whether they’d sample the merchandise.

  Including the way a few of the men studied me.

  God, I was so over the night already. Plus, my headache was moving from dull throb to techno beat, hammering in its intensity, made worse by the loud music pumping through the building.

  “Babe, not to sound mean, but from the pinched expression on your face, I can’t decid
e if you’re tired or pissed off.” Bridget gently took my arm. “You’re rubbing your temple again. That headache getting worse?”

  “Yeah.” I lowered my hand, not even aware I’d been touching my head. “I’m getting a club soda. You want anything from the bar?”

  She glanced around, the diamante clips in her dark hair glinting silver in the low light. “This place is hot tonight. I’m dancing.” At my small nod, she gave me a loopy smile. “Something tells me you won’t be here long.” I didn’t bother to deny the fact. “If you change your mind, come to the VIP area. I’ll let James know you’ve left.” With a quick kiss on my cheek, she was gone.

  Was it wrong that I already felt a lightness rush through me at the thought of not having to spend the evening listening to loud music and jostling against bodies on the dance floor? I didn’t know what was wrong with me tonight. Dancing with my friends, letting myself go and moving to the music was usually fun, a great way to party.

  But right now, I’d rather listen to a recording of nails scraping down a chalkboard.

  I made my way to the bar, found a trio of unoccupied barstools and sat on the one on the far end closest to the club’s entry. Placing my purse on the counter, I smiled as the female bartender came to serve me. “Club soda, no ice, please.”

  The woman nodded, and in seconds, my glass was before me.

  “Thank you.” Sliding a bill that allowed for a healthy tip, I sipped my drink, enjoying the refreshing coldness of the soda in my dry mouth.

  Opening my purse, I reached in for the little gold pillbox I had bought the last time I was in London. Having always suffered from hay fever, I liked keeping some meds on hand. Tylenol and my anti-histamine. I huffed a laugh.

  Such a party girl, Paige.

  At least my non-fashionable drugs had a fabulous gold pill box of their own. Even if I’m a dork in disguise, I could—

  A frisson of awareness skated over the back of my neck. I caught my breath. Feather-light tingles swept over my arms and across my shoulders under my leather jacket. As if pulled by an invisible thread, I turned my head to the left.

  My gaze collided with the intense, watchful stare of a blond-haired man seated near me, one empty barstool between us.

  But the gap might as well not have been there.

  His sheer size dwarfed the space around him, imposing his presence on me without having said a word. Impossibly wide shoulders were covered in a dark navy shirt, the muscular shape of his arms and torso clearly visible under the fabric as he lifted a glass of clear liquid to his mouth. Black pants, belt and shoes completed his look. Sharp. Masculine. Confident.

  And those eyes. A bright clear blue. The color of the Aegean Sea.

  I wanted to say he was movie-star handsome, but there was something about him, an air of danger, that gave him a harder edge.

  One that enticed me to not look away, but to allow myself to sink deeper into his presence.

  He glanced at the pillbox I held in my hands, before raising his gaze back to my face.

  “You feel okay, darlin’?”

  I shivered at the dark, rough quality of his voice.

  “I’m fine.” For some reason I wanted to explain even though what I was taking was none of his business. “I’ve got a headache.” I pulled out an extra-strength Tylenol, holding it up so he could see the pill’s red letter branding. “See, nothing exotic here.”

  “Always smart to play it safe in a place like this.” His gaze flicked to over my shoulder before he rose from his barstool and took a step closer. “Since you’re okay, I’ll—”

  “Oooafff.”

  A heavy weight crashed into me from behind, forcing me to lose my balance on the barstool. I went sideways and desperately reached out for the edge of the bar’s counter, but my hand slipped.

  A pair of strong arms wrapped around me and set me on my feet.

  “Sorry,” a male voice mumbled behind me.

  I blinked, clutching onto the arms of the blond stranger. Even in my shock, I couldn’t help but feel the rock hard muscles of his biceps under my fingers.

  So wonderfully strong.

  “This is becoming a habit, but I’ll ask again, you okay?” His low voice was tempered with concern.

  “Yes, thanks.” I tried to take a step back and get some much needed distance, but the edge of the barstool proved I had nowhere to go. That didn’t bode well. I’d already allowed this man too much influence over me as it was.

  The top of my head barely reached his collarbone. Up this close, my gaze was filled with the strong wall of his chest. I bent my head back, and looked upwards, past the open neck of his shirt that showed his tanned chest with its light dusting of hair, over the muscular column of his throat and then up to the strong line of his jaw. His towering presence and undisguised masculinity shook my senses like an earthquake and smashed any façade of aloofness. I was left feeling crowded, vulnerable and…utterly feminine.

  “Here’s your purse.”

  I blinked at the sound of the bartender’s voice and felt the man release me from his hold. Turning to face the bar, I saw the staff member place my purse on the counter alongside my now empty gold pill box.

  “No dice on the medication. It’s on the floor.” With a shrug, she moved down the bar to serve a customer.

  With perfect timing, my temple throbbed as if a jackhammer was drilling deep into my head.

  Great.

  Time to leave. Sighing, I shoved my pillbox into my purse. I gazed up the man still standing next to me, giving him a quick smile. “Thanks again for saving me earlier.”

  “No problem.” He took in the way I had half turned in the direction of the club’s entrance. “I take it you’re leaving?”

  Any other night I’d have been tempted to share a drink with him and discover what about him hooked my interest so much.

  This man challenged me with his commanding nature, a fact both thrilling and unnerving.

  “It’s been that kind of a night and my headache’s about to launch into nuclear mode. I’m done.” I moved to start walking, but felt a hand on my arm.

  “I have a car here,” he began and smiled as I took a step back, his hand sliding from my arm. “My driver could take you home and come back for me later.” Glancing down at my purse, he reminded me, “You’ll have your phone with you if you need to call anyone.”

  True. And he had a driver? Judging by his designer clothes and the confident way he carried himself, it wasn’t hard to guess he was a success at whatever he did for a living.

  But still…

  “I don’t even know your name.” And he didn’t know mine for that matter.

  “Alex Mitchell.” He looked around the nightclub. “I’m visiting here from Seattle for business. The car and driver are on loan from my hosts I’m staying with.” Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew his wallet and pulled out a business card. “Outdoor sports. Here’s my business card.”

  Alex Mitchell. CEO. Adrenaline Adventures Unlimited. With an address in Seattle.

  I could call a cab, but at eleven in the evening, I’d be lucky if I got one right away. Another stabbing throb at my temple was the push I needed.

  “Thank you, I’d appreciate your driver taking me home.”

  “Good.” Alex’s handsome face broke into a smile, softening the harder features of his face. “Let’s make that happen.” He pulled out his cell from his pant’s pocket. “This is Alex Mitchell. I’d like you to take a lady home and come back for me when you’re done.” There was a pause before he spoke again. “I see. Then we’ll meet you at the side entrance we passed on our way in.”

  With a hand at my elbow, he guided me toward a side corridor. “My driver’s informed me there’s an altercation out front with some people trying to get into the club. I know a side entrance we went by on the way here tonight.” We passed a few unmarked doors before reaching a door with an exit light overhead.

  “I’ve never seen this exit before.”

  “I
was here a few nights ago when some fool set off a fire alarm as a joke. We were evacuated out that way.” Alex pushed open the door and a rush of cool air hit my face as we stepped into the side laneway.

  Right in front of us was the town car, its motor running. I glanced around, noting no other cars or people were in sight.

  The driver opened his door to get out, but Alex stopped him. “No bother, I’ll help the lady. Opening the back passenger door, he moved to stand just in front of the car’s back wheel. “Your carriage awaits.”

  I giggled, unable to help myself. “Thank you, Alex. You have no idea what this ride means to me tonight.” Stepping into the car’s doorway, I bent down to get in.

  “Oh, I do, Paige. Trust me.”

  I froze.

  Paige.

  He knew my name.

  “What—”

  I was pushed forward from behind, falling into the backseat with my arms outstretched, bracing my fall. A huge body crowded my left side, forcing me to move further into the car.

  “Hey!”

  A car door slammed.

  “Go.”

  The car accelerated quickly, forcing me back into the seat before strong arms wrapped around me, holding me in a crushing grip against Alex’s chest.

  I stared at the side window in horror as the walls of the alleyway whizzed by.

  No.No.No.

  This wasn’t happening.

  I was being kidnapped.

  Taken.

  My heart beat so hard I thought it would break my ribs.

  Fight. I had to fight.

  “What the hell are you doing? Let me go!” I struggled against Alex’s hold, but he just increased the pressure of his grip.

  My lungs, already tight with fear, didn’t seem to be able to expand to let enough air in.

  Everything was moving too fast around me.

  “Paige, I’m not going to hurt you.” Alex stared down at me, his powerful gaze as forceful as his tone of voice. “But convincing you would take too long, so I’m going to make this trip easier on both of us.”