Page 17 of Traitorous Lies
That was Jax’s voice, but what if it was one of the kidnappers pretending like Jax himself had done just a few moments ago?
Fingers caressed her cheek, the same way they’d done before Jax went on his killing spree, and she knew their touch. There was no way someone could fake how it made her feel.
Whimpering again, she grabbed his hand and held onto it tightly. “Are they dead?”
“All dead.”
“So we’re … we’re going to be okay? We can go home now?” She hardly dared to hope that might be true. That all they had to do was drive back to the road and then go home.
“Actually, princess, the van got shot up, it’s not drivable.”
Eyes snapping open, she met Jax’s worried gaze. Before pressing him on what he’d just said, her eyes roamed his body searching for the telltale sign of blood that would indicate a wound.
There was none.
“If we can't drive the van, how will we get home?” she asked, hating the wobble in her voice and the tears that blurred her vision, but she was too tired and in too much pain to hide them.
“We’ll walk.” Jax said it like it was the easiest thing in the world.
But it wasn't.
It was November, and they were deep in the French woods, in one of the largest forests in Europe. She was dressed in a ball gown and heels. Even with Jax’s tux jacket on she was going to freeze. They both would. He might be dressed slightly better in his suit pants, shirt, and lace-up shoes, but it was still too cold. They also had no food, no water, and no shelter.
As far as she could see, they were in no better position than they’d been ten minutes ago, now their deaths were just more likely to be slow rather than quick.
Chapter
Five
November 1st
12:02 A.M.
“You doing okay, princess?” Jax glanced sideways as he asked.
Beside him, Monique trudged along through the forest in the pitch dark, cold and hurting, but not a single complaint had fallen from her lips.
Not at all what he would have expected from the Kerr princess before he’d met her.
When he’d gotten on that plane to fly to France, he’d expected to find a spoiled little rich girl. One who was used to getting what she wanted and who would throw her weight around, and her money, using it to manipulate and buy people off.
Only Monique wasn't that way at all. She’d told him she didn't like rich, boring, stuffy guys, and it was clear there was attraction between them.
Attraction that would be easy enough to ignore if it were all there was. But from the second their eyes met, he’d felt something weird settle in his chest. While he was making no claims that it was love at first sight,it was something. Like some primitive part of him had laid a claim on her.
It didn’t help that she was sweet and shy yet knew what she wanted and lived her life to the beat of her own drum. If that wasn't enough, the fact that she had been willing to quite literally buy his life with her body would have done it. There was something special about this woman, and he was finding with each passing minute that he didn't want to let her go.
Too bad he wouldn’t have a choice.
There was no way he was going to be able to keep from her forever why he’d been at that party, and why he’d made contact with her. Once they found their way out of the forest, he’d contact his brothers, and if they weren't already on a plane after he’d missed the check-in then they’d hop right on one.
When his team didn't come back, Samson Kerr would eventually find out they were all dead, leaving his daughter behind as a witness. Would he allow the only daughter he’d claimed as his live? Or would she now live with a target on her back until they were able to prove that Samson was involved in his stepmom’s rape and then subsequent plan to have her and Jax’s dad eliminated from the equation by having them branded traitors and killed?
“You know if you're going to ask me a question, the polite thing to do would be to listen to the answer.”
The soft, teasing voice drew him out of his head, and he found Monique smiling up at him, her face in the dim light painted with amusement despite the exhaustion clinging to her.
“Sorry, princess,” he said sheepishly. “Thoughts are just running a mile a minute.”
