Page 35 of Under Control

“And are you?”

Danica shut off her phone, tucking it back into her tiny purse. “That remains to be seen.”

The words fell like a ton of bricks on the conversation, and something about hearing her call him ‘my lord’ caused his cock to lengthen and throb. He knew that it was only going to get harder to stay away from her now that he’d had a taste.

He clenched his jaw, knowing that he wanted to takefullcontrol. He wanted her to give in to him, to let him lead. That was what he was good at. But there was a clear mistrust festering between them. It was going to be harder and harder to convince her to see his point of view.

Carrick narrowed his focus onto the coastal highway before him, assessing his plan. Well, everything had fucking gone to shit. Now, he had no choice but to take her someplace no one could find her, a location that was secure and untraceable—where he had immediate access and no one would ever know.

There was only one option.

And she isn’t going to like it.

Chapter Fourteen

Danica

The small, private oceanside community of Sunset Beach came into view as Danica’s new captor pulled the pickup off the Pacific Coast Highway. Carrick had driven fast as hell from Bel Air through LA, down to the south side of the coast. Sunset Beach was a surfing town where life moved a little slower.

Danica had been down this way before, in a camper van with nothing but close friends, a bikini and a surfboard. Still, she’d never caught a glimpse inside the gated, secure community that they were approaching. The community covered most of the beachfront property, where celebrities and athletes were rumored to live.

Leaning out of the truck window, Carrick swiped an access card at the gate.

“Where are we going?” she questioned, needing to understand the plan.

“Somewhere safe.”

Carrick drove through the gates and up to a three-story home. It was tall and thin, sandwiched between a long row of expensive-looking beachside houses. Danica looked around nervously but couldn’t get much of a read on what it looked like in the dark, especially since they drove right into a large garage that was big enough for two vehicles.

As Carrick turned off the truck engine, with the heavy reinforced garage door closing securely behind them, Danica saw that there was another pickup truck parked in the garage—black, with a surfboard sticking out of the back.

“Where are we?” she asked, her eyes wide as she shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

“My place.”

“And you surf?”

He shot her a look of disbelief across the truck’s bench. “I live on Sunset Beach. I grew up in Southern California. I was stationed on Coronado island. Of course I surf.”

She widened her eyes even farther as she started looking around. What else was she going to learn about her mysterious captor? As she put her hand on the door of the truck, starting to get out, she looked over at him. He’d flipped his cell out of his pocket and was quickly and furiously moving through his notifications. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like he had a ton of missed calls and voicemails.

He’s in trouble.

Danica bit her lip, watching Carrick with a keen eye. How much time did they have before Petrov came knocking? Or Andriy? Then things would really get ugly.

Moving out of the truck, her limbs uneasy and shaky, Dani followed him up to the garage door, where he entered a password on a keypad and also unlocked a deadbolt with a key. It was clear that the place was tightly secured.

“Oh,” she said as she stepped into the house, seeing how well appointed it was. “Nice pad.”God, it’s expensive-looking.

He grunted in response, throwing his keys onto a console and seemingly reviewing security footage.

Danica cautiously stepped onto the light hardwood floors, which looked as though he’d cut the birch trees himself. The entry level connected with a staircase leading up to the second level, which was modern and open concept. Carrick grabbed her hand, showing her up, and she realized the entry level was for the garage, mud room and what looked like an office in the back.

As they crested the second floor, she saw the living quarters—a gray-and-white kitchen with glittering quartz countertops and shiny silver handles bolted onto white cupboards. He flicked on the lights, illuminating a great room connected to a balcony. She couldn’t see much farther through the dark sliding doors but guessed that his balcony overlooked a wide stretch of sandy white beach.

This place must cost millions.

As Carrick moved into the kitchen behind her, she glanced around the living room, at first in awe. But then something quickly struck her. It looked like a model home, like no one lived there. There were no family photos, nothing personal looking. Her stomach flipped with more questions of confidence.How can an ex-military guy afford a place like this?Once again, she was reminded of how much she was putting herself out on a limb with him, and how little he’d actually told her of himself.

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