Temptation in Shadows

Gena Showalter

St. Martin’s Paperbacks

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About the Author

Copyright

Gabrielle Huit blinked open her heavy eyelids and moaned. Her temples throbbed as if her brain was hooked to a generator and every few seconds the switch was thrown, electric shocks traveling from one side of her skull to the other.

Moaning again, she scanned her surroundings. She could see . . . nothing. Her vision was blurred from the pain, and the shadows around her were too thick. But she wasn’t home; that much she knew. The air was too dusty, too cold; she kept her place clean and warm.

She tried to shift to her side, hoping a different angle would elicit different results. Metal rattled and a hard weight pulled at her wrists, keeping her still. Metal—chains?

Don’t panic.
Yet. Where was she? How had she gotten here? Last thing she remembered, she’d been outside, holding a gun and fighting the urge to commit murder. Something had knocked out her targets and a second later a dark cloud had enveloped her.
Then
a sharp sting had torn through her neck, shooting fire and weakness through her entire body.

“I’m sorry,” a deep voice had whispered. “So sorry.”

She’d focused on that voice as if it were a lifeline—until she’d been unable to focus anymore. Though she hadn’t seen anyone nearby, strong arms had banded around her, lifting her up and preventing her from falling as her trembling knees collapsed.

Now, she was trapped inside a . . . room? A cell? She still couldn’t tell. Her own panting breaths filled her ears as she tugged more forcefully at the metal. Again, the links around her wrists remained steady. She really was chained.
Oh, God.
Someone had knocked her out and abducted her. Someone had freaking knocked her out and abducted her.

She’d told herself not to panic, but a knot began to grow in her throat, cutting off her air supply. Someone had managed to bypass her security, both external and internal, and overpower her completely. She was now trapped. Helpless.

Calm down. Figure this out.
Yes. Yes, she could figure this out. She just had to breathe. To do so, she just had to swallow the knot. Gabby forced herself to gulp, to slowly breathe in, out. In, out.
Better,
she thought, her lungs filling.
Okay. Time to think rationally.
Who would have done this? The government, maybe?

The men she’d wanted to shoot had certainly looked the part. Dark suits, sunglasses, and shiny Glocks. More, they’d known what she was capable of and had prepared for the worst. But how had they drugged her? They’d never even approached her. Someone else was responsible, then.

So . . . who else had been there?

No one that she had seen, and that terrified her more than anything else. She barely managed to stop another knot from growing. Being taken like this—again—was what she’d feared her entire life. The first time, she had been studied, used. Hurt. She’d woken up strapped to a table, her head split open by a rogue agency scientist suddenly able to download computer files straight into her brain. If the government were responsible this time, how much worse would it be for her?

A moan suddenly echoed—and it wasn’t hers.

Gabby scrambled backward until a wall stopped her. The erratic pounding of her heartbeat seemed loud, like a beckon to whoever lurked on the other side of the chamber.

“Hello,” a male rasped groggily. Chains scraped the floor—but she hadn’t moved. He was bound, too? “Anyone there?”

Her panic receded. Somewhat. “I’m here,” she said, voice shaking.

There was a pause. Then a shocked, “Gabby? Is that you?”

Her jaw dropped as recognition took hold. “Sean?”

“Where are we? What’s going on?” The more he spoke, the more substance his words had and the better she could hear the deep, sexy rumble that had fueled her fantasies the last few weeks. Best forgotten fantasies.

“I’m chained to the wall,” she told him. “You?”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Why would someone take them both? And how terrible of a person was she, to be relieved that they were in this together?

“Do you know who has us?” she asked.

“No, sorry. Last thing I remember, I was walking out of my apartment and some guy was asking me for the time.”

Okay. So. There went her government theory. Sean was the bodyguard of a nightclub owner—a nightclub owner she, too, worked for—but Sean was normal. Moody, yes, and hot as hell, but still normal. There was no reason for the government to abduct and study him.

Unless . . . what if they knew how much she desired him and thought to use him against her? They could threaten to hurt him if she failed to cooperate. She groaned.

“You hurt?” he demanded in a tone mixed with equal measures of concern and anger.

Not yet,
she thought, but couldn’t deny that his concern warmed her. “I’m fine.”

His image flashed inside her mind. He was tall, lean but muscled. His skin was sun-kissed, his chopped hair dark, and his eyes so electric a blue they shocked her every time she looked into them. Even with the black, swirling tattoos that curved around his temples, he epitomized perfection.

She’d often wondered why he’d marked himself that way, what it meant to him.

“Maybe we’re going to be ransomed,” he said. The prospect didn’t sound like it bothered him. “I mean, we work for the same wealthy man.”

“They should have taken him, then, ’cause I doubt Rowan Patrick cares about getting me back.” She’d met with Mr. Patrick a few weeks ago, shortly after he’d bought the club where she worked. The next day, he’d asked her out. She’d said no. She’d already
been fascinated by Sean. Then, a few days later, Mr. Patrick had asked her out again. Again, she’d said no. His frustration with her had been very clear.

“True,” Sean finally replied. “You aren’t his favorite person.”

Was Mr. Patrick coldhearted enough to have planned this out of revenge? “Would he have done this . . .”

“No. I’ve known him a long time and that’s not his style.” Sean sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to be loaded, would you?”

“No.” Oh, she could make money. Plenty of money. She had the means to acquire any amount of cash she desired, at any time, but she’d never done so. There was too much risk.

So what motive did that leave?

The man who’d . . . enhanced her had let her go. Could he have decided he wanted her back and then hunted her down? But again, why bring Sean into it?

“We have to get out of here,” she said, pulling at her chains. Her wrists were already abraded, and she winced as metal cut past skin and warm blood beaded. “Preferably before our abductor realizes we’ve woken up.”

“Stupid asshole didn’t frisk me.” There was a twinge of satisfaction in his voice. “My blade is still pressed against my ankle.”

Thank God for stupid assholes.
“Do you know how to pick a lock?” she asked. She did, but as dark as the room was, Sean couldn’t toss her the knife without the possibility of losing it.

“Oh yeah. During my misspent youth, I learned a lot of naughty skills I shouldn’t have.”

She heard the rustle of clothes, the slide of chain against wood, an angered, “Shit! Cut myself,” then finally the clink of metal.

“One down,” he muttered.

“Hurry.”

“Am.” Another muttered curse, then another
clink.
“I’m going to kill whoever did this.”

“Ladies first.”

He chuckled. “Bloodthirsty, are you?” One moment he was across the room; the next his big, strong hands were on her, patting her down as he searched for her wrists. Despite the danger, she shivered. He was hot, callused . . . a temptation she couldn’t afford.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Barely.

“I can’t see anything and might cut you. If I do—”

“I’ll live. Promise. Just get these things off me.” How long did they have before their abductor checked on them?

One of Sean’s hands slid the length of her arm and stopped at the chain. He leaned in, warm breath trekking over her face, the scent of whiskey filling her nose. Thankfully he didn’t cut her as he’d feared. He was infinitely gentle as he freed one wrist, then the other before clasping her hand and tugging her upright.

Her knees proved to be weak and buckled—damn drugs—but she never hit the ground. Sean’s arm snaked around her waist and held her up.

“I’ve got you.”

She shivered. “There’s got to be an exit.”

“There is. Look.” He spun her around.

Gabby fought a wave of dizziness as she did as
commanded. As thick as the shadows were, she saw only darkness. “I don’t—”
Wait.
There, at the floor where she’d been sitting, was a thin slit of light. Once again her heartbeat sped into a gallop, this time from excitement. “A doorway!”

“Yep. Wait here.”

He released her, and she stifled a whimper, already missing his strength. At least she managed to remain upright on her own this time. A moment later, the sound of metal sinking into wood reverberated. She knew the sound all too well.

“Why aren’t you jimmying the lock?” That would have been quieter.

“Blade’s too big to fit inside the cylinder. I’m having to detach the hinges.” As he worked, he said, “Did you get a look at the person who grabbed you?”

“No. He said he was sorry, but never showed his face.”

“Damn. I didn’t see him, either.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this. I mean, this is all my fault.” It had to be.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think we’re meant to be ransomed. I think—”
God.
Should she tell him? He deserved to know. After all, if they failed to escape, he might be tortured for information about her. Or worse, experimented on. And going into that sort of situation blind was a lot worse than knowing what to expect and why.
That
she knew firsthand.

Still, years of silence, of secrets and running, of hiding to stay alive, kept the truth bottled inside her. If she told him and they got out of this, she’d have to always wonder who
he
told.

“Nothing,” she said. “I think nothing.”

“No. You think something, but we’ll talk about it later.” The door separated from the wall, and welcome light flooded the room.

Gabby blinked against the sudden brightness, her eyes filling with burning tears. To compose herself, she turned and studied her prison. It was a small bedroom, of a type probably found in every suburban neighborhood. The walls were beige, and there was a dresser pushed against the far right. A twin-sized bed rested beside it. Only, there were no pictures, no knickknacks.

Sean peeked out. “Clear,” he said. “Come on.” He grabbed her arm and ushered her into the hall. Like the bedroom, it was devoid of personal effects.

Again, her government theory was shaken. She would not have been locked inside a bedroom, inside a home, with no guard posted at her door. “Is there a computer in this place?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to take the time to find out.” He kept his blade at his side and tugged her around a corner, stopping to glance inside the other doorways—two bedrooms—along the way. “Clear.”

“You don’t understand.” She dug her heels into the wood planks, bringing him to a quick halt. “I might be able to learn who abducted us and why.”