Page 7 of Rogue Voice

Now.

Before it’s too late.

He must have sensed her fight-or-flight response kicking in. His hand whipped towards her, his fingers wrapping themselves against her wrist.

“Not so fast. Who are you?”

Bea tugged against his hold. The man’s fingers tightened inexorably. Not tight enough to hurt—there was no pain, only a strange, unexpected warmth—but tight enough to let her know she wasn’t going anywhere until he decided to let her go. Bea gave a small whimper.

The man’s gray eyes flashed with something unexpected for an instant but, by the time she blinked, they were stone again. “Who are you?” he asked again. There was a light threat in his voice now, and Bea had to clench her teeth to stop herself from crying out. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

“I’m nobody,” she finally said. Which was close enough to the truth. She was nobody here. Or less than nobody. She was just a pawn in her uncle’s dark chess game.

His hold on her wrist relaxed infinitesimally. She shouldn’t have been able to tell, except that all her focus, all her attention, was on that small expanse of skin. She felt it and knew it was her chance.

“I came to see if you needed more towels.”

His eyes finally left her face. She felt his gaze as it roamed down her body, then up again. She could feel it like it was a physical touch. Warm and?—

She cringed.

What are you doing, Bea? Have you lost your mind?

She held her ground and waited. Would he believe she was a maid? She wasn’t carrying any towels, but knew where to find them, if she needed to, inside the second cupboard in the hallway.

Something flashed again in his eyes. This time, she recognized it for what it was.Curiosity. That wasn’t good. The last thing she wanted was for one of her uncle’s friends to be curious about her, but there was nothing she could do now except wait. She forced herself to stay still.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then he smiled, those full lips lifting almost lazily. And if he’d been good-looking before, that smile turned him into a devastatingly handsome man. Something inside her belly clenched, which was unexpected, because he was a man, and men weren’t safe. Friends of her uncle, even less so. The warning bells in her head grew louder, a cacophony of sound.

She jerked her eyes away, but not before she caught that strange flash in his eyes. Something dark and jaded and … dangerous.

His fingers skimmed around the pulse point on her wrist, and she knew he’d be able to feel her agitation, regardless of how still she held herself. “I don’t need more towels,” he finally said, letting go. She pulled her hand back, only just restraining herself from touching the spot where his fingers had been moments earlier. “Just information.”

Information.

She almost laughed out loud. He wanted information from her? Bea knew information made the world go round. But trying to get information from her was like?—

Her eyes were drawn to a yellow shape flying across the sky. A male saffron finch. Probably looking for his mate. Bea knewmore about birds now than she’d ever thought she would. The previous owner of the house had been an avid birdwatcher and had left dozens of bird books in the downstairs library. Bea had nothing, if not time, and she’d discovered she enjoyed looking at the birds.

“Information,” he repeated, speaking slowly, as if to a dull child.

Bea almost laughed. He was more likely to get information out of the finch that had just flown by than out of her.

But she didn’t say that. Instead, she waited. She was good at waiting, but then, he seemed to be pretty good at it, too.

“Where are we?” he asked.

It was the last thing she’d expected him to ask. And it was a dangerous question. She cocked her head sideways. Maybe a trick question. But what could he?—

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, taking a small step back. “I just need to know where we are.”

One step, and suddenly she could breathe again. “That way is Sincelejo,” she said, pointing south. “It’s a thirty-minute drive.” She hadn’t seen him arrive, but he must have come in a car. There was no other way in or out of the hacienda, as she well knew, unless you could fly.

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