Page 53 of Fierce Pursuit

"If you make a scene, the only thing you’ll accomplish will be the death of innocent people."

Her body tightened with a sharp intake of breath.

Good. That got her attention.

"Fine," she spat, all defiance laced with venom.

But I heard the hesitation beneath it, felt the war waging in her muscles.

I spun her in my grip, pressing her in front of me, my fingers settling firm on her shoulder. From a distance, we could have passed for lovers. Just another couple weaving through the train. But my fingers dug in, pressing against the delicate bones beneath her jacket.

A warning. A leash.

She moved stiffly, her breath shallow, her steps sluggish.

I nudged her forward, forcing her to keep pace.

"Where are you taking me?" Her whisper barely cut through the steady clatter of the train on the tracks.

"Somewhere more private." I let my grip tighten, fingers flexing against her. "Where we can talk."

"And if I don’t want to talk?"

I didn’t answer.

She already knew she had no choice.

We wove through the train, past drowsy passengers and bored attendants. By the time we reached the first-class sleeping cars, she had gone quiet, her hair veiling her face.

Hiding her anger?

Or her fear?

Neither would save her.

I pushed open the cabin door and shoved her inside, harder than necessary.

She stumbled forward, catching herself against the railing over the narrow upper bunk before spinning to face me, chest heaving.

I took my time sealing us in, closing the door with deliberate slowness. The soft click of the lock sliding into place sent a visible shiver over her limbs. I drew the thick curtain tight, fastening it securely.

No witnesses. No interruptions.

Just her and me.

I slid my jacket off, leaning against the door and crossed my arms over my chest, watching her. Letting her absorb the reality of her situation.

Trapped.

"What’s in New York?" I asked, my voice deceptively calm.

Her chin lifted, green eyes blazing up at me fromwhere she’d taken a seat on the narrow lower bed with a shrug. “I hear the Statue of Liberty is fun.”

Stubborn little thing. My hands gripped the smooth metal rod as I leaned over her trembling form. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes, babygirl?”

Fuck, she looked beautiful.

Fear had given a sweet rosy blush to her cheeks and animated her already wide, stunning green eyes. Her full lips parted just enough to drag in a shaking breath, drawing my gaze.

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