Page 51 of Captive Prize

I moved fast, barefoot and sweating, every nerve screaming.

The second I stepped outside, it would be worse. Getting back to my men—injured, barefoot, without even a coat—would be hell.

But I didn’t need to get to the warehouse.

Just to the street.

I turned a corner—and froze.

Another guard.

Bigger. Alert. Facing me.

No chance to sneak by.

He saw me the second I saw him.

His eyes widened. I lifted the gun.

“I already killed one,” I said, aiming at his chest. “Move, or I’ll shoot.”

His hands went up.

Then his eyes flicked past me.

Everything changed.

He relaxed. Lowered his arms. His expression shifted from shocked to smug.

But he wasn’t smiling at me.

He was smiling at whatever was behind me.

“Put your hands up!” I yelled, voice sharp with panic.

Then I froze at an unexpected sensation.

Cold metal. Pressed between my shoulder blades.

The weight of a muzzle.

The warmth of a body behind me.

And that scent—spice, sweet smoke, and masculine arrogance—wrapped around me like a curse.

Roman.

His voice, dark and amused, purred against my ear.

“Leaving so soon, my pet?”

CHAPTER 14

ROMAN

When I saw the broken chair and the unconscious guard, still breathing but bleeding on my office floor, I wasn’t mad.

My heart hammered, a dark thrill curling low in my gut, like I’d been waiting my entire life for a woman to test me like this.

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