Circle of Danger (17 page)

“They won't kill him. He's too valuable alive. Anyway, we need the time to get everyone in place. Rushing in could kill him for sure.”

Yes. He was valuable, but was Ryker worth her facing her worst fear? Being in a tub or shallow water never bothered her. But being in a boat or having water above her knees . . . well, the fear was real.

She closed her eyes and hoped her stomach would settle down. Determined to get a grip, she thought about the last time Ryker had helped her with a flashback. After he'd pulled out, she'd rolled over and pretended to fall asleep before he returned from the bathroom. She hated how weak she felt and acted around him. Then his hand had caressed her cheek and smoothed her hair as his deep voice whispered, “Don't worry, I'll take care of you.”

She leaned her cheek against the passenger window and sighed. He was worth it.

As they travelled down I-95, Marie stared at the flat land without really seeing it. Various automobiles and trucks passed them in a blur while the Hummers maintained the posted speed limit. The Circle operatives were well aware that to be pulled over for any traffic violation would cause irrevocable delays in their mission. Needless to say, they would have problems explaining the firepower on their persons and stored in the Hummers. Then the locals would call in the federal government, and all hell would break loose, causing The Circle to call in favors from senators they'd rather use at a more advantageous time.

She'd always scoffed at how people said they could sense whether a loved one was still alive or in harm's way. Deep inside, she felt Ryker needed her. That Mulcahy wanted Ryker to suffer in revenge for Marie turning him down.

A tingling feeling shot from her groin to her nipples and blasted warmth across her face. Damn. Double damn. She didn't need this now. She pulled out a thin orange-brown bottle from her pocket and twisted off the cap. Throwing her head back as she tossed the pill into her mouth and swallowed, she hoped it worked fast. No way could she take care of her problem privately. She hated the side effects of the medicine Doc had prescribed her. The only way to describe how she reacted was simply to call her a bitch. Yesterday when Jack had told her about Ryker, she'd just taken a pill.

At first, she could take one every other day whenever Ryker was away. Now it averaged one a day. Half of the three months Doc had given her to use them was over. By the time it was through, she wouldn't have any friends left, and Doc would need to find something stronger. That was, if she didn't kill someone before then. She really needed the antidote.

She leaned the seat back and closed her eyes. Maybe by the time they arrived in Miami, she would have her flashback in control. As it was, she didn't really have a choice.

Jack laughed at a remark Tom made about a passing lowrider with bass thumping, causing even the heavy Hummer to vibrate.

His deep chuckle rippled down her torso.

No!

No matter how sexy he sounded, she needed Ryker. Just the thought of going to another man was not debatable. No other option. So that solved it. She would save his butt, and he'd better show his appreciation slow and hard and often.

R
yker jerked on the bars again. He was no James Bond with Q fortuitously equipping him with a toy to escape the cage in ten seconds flat. And considering that when he woke up over an hour ago he didn't have a stitch on, his chances of finding something helpful were nil.

The cage sat midway between a bank of windows and a mammoth bed in a wide room. The windows looked over a white-sand beach and bluish-green water. Certainly a far better sight than the room. His first thought on awakening was, who in the hell threw up Pepto-Bismol everywhere? Pink walls, pink drapery hanging from bedposts, and pink bedding that included matching satin sheets and pillows. Even his fucking cage had a coating of pink enamel. He pulled on the door again, hoping the lock would give. Pink paint chipped off as it clanged with each tug.

He stopped. Someone was talking on the other side of a pink door. The pink glass doorknob turned, the door opened, and the person strolled in.

Damn it. He knew there was a reason Liam never cracked and gave him the Wizard's real name. He knew he had missed something important. How stupid and narrow-minded could he be?

“Hello, Ryker.” The sugary sweet voice caused him to shudder inside.

 

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

“L
etitia.” Ryker squeezed the bars as he stared at Liam's ex-wife. Why had he never thought of her? All of it made sense. The woman was a genius and had worked in a pharmaceutical lab as a research scientist straight out of college. No one could make Liam believe she was a cock-chaser even after she disappeared with her lover seven years earlier. “You're the Wizard.”

“What a horrible nickname. I've always detested it. As if I would wear a pointed hat and purple robe.” One darkened eyebrow lifted. “I must say you've grown into a fine looking man, scars and all. That black patch actually gives you a romantic flair. Give you a puffy shirt, tight pants, thigh-high boots, and a rapier—I would have a real live musketeer in my bird cage.”

Ryker looked up. The bars at the top curved up to a point. Damn him, if he wasn't in a bird cage.

“You were all skin and bones back then, but now . . . oh, my . . . how you've filled out.”

Her gaze drifted down to his groin. A flash of disappointment darkened her face.

“You should be hard and ready for me.”

What had she hoped? That he would be turned on by the cage and her see-through teddy? The pink froth barely held in her manufactured breasts and ended at the beginning of her thighs. Maybe most men would be moved by such a display. She'd kept in shape fairly well for a forty-five-year-old woman. Last time he'd seen her, she'd worn her blonde hair in curls down her back. Now her hair, stopped at chin-level, was straight and a platinum color.

As she crawled onto the bed, he caught a glimpse of the pink thong dividing her cheeks. She stretched, thrusting her chest out, and rubbed her nipples. “I remember how you used to follow me with your eyes. If Theo hadn't been such a control freak, I probably could've been your first.” She cut her cold blue eyes toward him. “Your first girl, that is.”

“I was an infant when you were a girl,” he said, ignoring her attempt to rile him.

Letitia's eyes narrowed and lips flattened as she moved off the bed.

He worked at hiding his satisfaction from that blow. What purpose did it serve in making her angry? He'd half expected her to march across the room and slap him.

“Real men aren't afraid of women with experience.” With her bottom lip stuck out, she jiggled across the room and pulled a pink robe from behind a partition made of flamingos, and slipped it on. She didn't bother tying it. “You're no fun.” She glanced at a clock on the nightstand and then at his groin. “No. No fun at all. But that's okay. You'll be begging me to help you in a few more minutes.”

Her smug little grin bothered him.

What the hell—

The tingling started in his legs and arms and travelled like fireworks toward his cock.

Fuck, no!

He shook the bars. “You, bitch!”

“Uh-uh-uhh. Watch your tone.” Making sure to stay out of his reach, she stopped a few feet from the cage. “To answer your question, no. I've been working on a new formula for men. I should've known you can't give the same drug to a man as you can a woman. Two different hormones involved. It was really a shame what happened to your men. I heard you had to put them out of their misery like two rabid dogs.”

The tingling hardened him to the point of pain. He sank to his knees, trying to regain control of his body. His back bowed as he thrust his hips out, trying to find some type of relief. Marie had told him about the symptoms, but he had no idea. They were worse than he imagined. How had she stayed sane?

He tried to concentrate on what else the bitch was saying. If not for his head being connected to his shoulders, he believed it would've floated off.

“Mike has been good to me. Gave me the best lab money can buy. Set me up on this beautiful island. He even brings me a new man to test and play with.” She leaned her head to the side, eyeing him as if he was a puzzle to be solved.

“I'm not your play toy,” he said between gritted teeth.

“But there you're wrong. You're whatever I say you are. The new formula has a few added kicks built-in it for men. And for women, I guess you could say.” Her smirk didn't bode well for him.

He struggled to remain calm. Twice he had to force his hands away from his cock. Concentrating on what the woman said, he focused his eye on her and closed his fingers around the bars. The urge to place his fingers around her neck and squeeze helped to control his desire to jerk off. He remained on his knees as his weak legs wouldn't move.

“We haven't given this drug a name yet. Mike named the one for women Blossom Flower. He said that's what a woman's ya-ya looks like when we're all horny and ready for some fun. All open and pink and moist. Maybe he'll call this one Steel Arrow. Isn't that what your penis feels like? Like you have a thick arrow pointing to what it needs? Or maybe he'll call it Piston Primer. Oh, no, I know. Morning Glory.” She laughed as her gaze caressed his cock. “He'll love it. Perfect. Of course, the flower does wilt after the sun comes up.” Holding her stomach and laughing, she shook her head. “While with this one you can go a long time without losing your erection. That is, if your penis doesn't explode.”

“You sick bitch.”

“Ah, but you like it. Don't worry—this drug doesn't last as long as the women's. So you'll require additional doses. Besides, if we want to use you for servicing others, we have to let your penis rest every few hours. Mustn't damage it.”

She cupped her breasts, and Ryker groaned. His body refused to obey him. Every fiber of his being strained to look away, but her lush flesh tempted his fingers as much as his cock did.

“Having a
hard
time there, buster?” She cackled.

His chest moved in and out like a marathon runner ending a race.

She twirled around. “I need to finish my story, don't I? So Mike hears about me and how I was selling the drug to college students for their frigid girlfriends, making a decent living but getting close to being arrested. The drug at that time wasn't illegal—funny thing, they didn't even know what it was—but having the authorities involved would've caused problems. He shows me, after a few trial runs, how we could use it to make a lot more money. He knew exactly what to do with it. With the right connections a person can become filthy rich!” Hands waving above her head, she danced around, her breasts bouncing with each twist and turn.

He groaned again.

“You can guess I'm richer than I ever imagined.” She stopped and her gaze fell to a point below his belly button. She leaned over, her breasts barely held in by the flimsy material, and reached out to touch his throbbing cock.

He pressed his hips to the bars. His mind hazy, he forced his attention to the woman who placed him here. If she moved a little closer, he could grab her and find a way to escape.

“Watch it, Letitia. Don't get too close. He'll bite.”

She snapped her hand back.

Mulcahy strode into the room and pulled her away from the cage. His hands cupped her butt as he lifted her for a kiss. She squealed in delight and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“I thought you would never get here. I missed you.”

“Ha! I'll be seeing how much you missed me.”

“I did! You've got to believe me. I was only having a little fun. You can't blame a girl for being curious. I wanted to see if it was as hard as it looked.”

“I have a stiff one you can play with instead.”

“Oh, Mike, you do.”

Ryker blinked and released the bars, landing in a heap. His cock ached against the cool steel floor. Walls swayed and blended together. The bed creaked and colors splattered across it. A giggle echoed in the room. He tried to keep his eye open but the blurring pulled him under and before he passed out, he heard Mulcahy chuckle and say, “I have something special planned for Ryker. You'll find it to be a wee bit entertaining.”

 

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

R
estless, Marie tapped her foot as she forced the turkey sandwich down her throat. She needed all the energy she could muster after eating breakfast at five-freaking-too-early in the morning. Jack had sashayed into the kitchen at six and announced she would receive her swimming lesson in thirty minutes. He had the gall to say he expected her to catch on quickly. What happened to her understanding friend?

She'd done okay. That was for a person scared of water above her knees.

“How in the hell do you expect to help me if you flunk the damn lesson?” Jack stood over her, his usual laid-back attitude gone as his eerily light-blue eyes shot ice at her.

“I told you I couldn't swim.”

“But you said you wanted to save Ryker. You know there's a reason for it being called an island, right?”

“Don't be a smartass.” She hated to admit it hurt that he was disappointed in her. He'd only wanted her to be happy, and he was as much of a good friend as Charlie. “I can't believe you said that I flunked. I admit I had problems putting my head underwater, but I got better.” She lifted her matted strands. “How do you think this got wet?”

“All the splashing you did.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “Go and learn how to not panic underwater. You don't have to be a great swimmer. We'll use DPVs to move from the boat to shore.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“DPVs are diver propulsion vehicles. Long tube-like equipment with propellers run by batteries that can move us in quickly without detection. I'll be with you and all you have to do is hold on and breathe through the regulator.” She gave him a blank stare. He shook his head, obviously disgusted with her ignorance. “The device that goes in your mouth and provides air. It's easier than you think.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, they have a few guards keeping an eye out for uninvited boats, but they depend on cameras for most of the security. Charlie will go in first and reroute two cameras, creating a blind spot. We'll go in from there. By the time they realize what has happened, we'll be in control. Keep that in mind, Marie. In one half of an hour you'll be back on dry land and never have to do this again.”

“Don't worry about me. I'll do what's necessary.” She said it with more confidence than she felt inside. The alternative was unacceptable. No way would she let Ryker down. She could prove to him and Jack that she was operative material.

And that was what she reminded herself the rest of the day with her head beneath the water as her mind screamed inside.

R
yker woke to his hands clutching his cock and pumping. His skin was so hot, he expected blisters to rise soon. Mindless and failing to care who saw him, all thought centered on his release.

“Get him out of there and ready,” Mulcahy said with disgust in his voice.

Clanking warned his sluggish mind they'd unlocked the cage, but his fingers refused to release himself. Hands tugged at his arms and fists slammed into his ribs. He roared. The men hauled his body out and began kicking and beating him in earnest. The room faded in and out of focus. A pinch on his arm caused his body to jerk. In seconds, he sank onto the floor again.

He opened his eye in a different cage. More like a box with threads of light shooting across to the other side. It was long enough to stretch out in, but only inches from his face. Hell, someone had placed him in a coffin, though no fabric covered the sides and nothing cushioned the back of his head.

Minutes ticked by as he assessed the situation. The tingling had ebbed but his hands automatically reached for his cock. Instead of skin, he found silky cloth like the shorts boxers worn in the arena. Underneath that, his hips and groin were wrapped in a cotton-type material with his cock thick and stiff underneath. The bindings were slightly uncomfortable. Yet he was relieved it prevented him from masturbating. Hell, he hadn't been this horny since he last touched Marie.

He breathed in deeply, trying to soothe the panic welling up inside. His elbows scraped the sides. Hell, if he wanted to remove the wrappings, he didn't have enough room to move.

He shifted. A twinge in his arm reminded him someone had injected him again. What had they given him? More of the same? It would probably kill him this time.

Someone rapped on the box. He jumped.

“Wake up. Time for you to earn your keep.”

What the hell?

A vibration rattled the metal as he heard the whining of an engine. The box was moving. Twisting his neck, he looked through one of the perforations and saw only cement blocks. He guessed it to be a tunnel or hallway of some sort. Then a rumbling sound added to the vibration and grew louder. The whining stopped and then the soft hum of a hydraulic motor running had the box tilting. He slid to his feet. He and the box were upright.

He opened and closed his fists. He wanted to kill whoever locked him in there, whoever shot him with that shit. Never had he expected to be so helpless again. Only he wasn't a weak kid, hero-worshiping the wrong person. Life had taught him a lot and he knew patience always paid off. They would make a mistake. Then their asses were fish bait.

Light streamed into the box from the holes, this time brighter. A little door near his shoulder opened and though he moved to the opposite side, it wasn't far enough and another needle sank into his arm. The drug worked faster than before. The pleasant tingling changed to raging fire in his blood. The need to fuck overshadowed every thought.

The voice said, “The drug will make you fuck or fight. Unless you like men, I suggest you fight. Defeating your opponent will give you the release you need until the next injection.”

The lid of the box popped open, and he stumbled out onto white sand in the middle of an enclosed arena, with a balcony about ten feet up encircling the whole place. He could see people talking, drinking, and laughing as they watched his stilted movements. Two large cameras with red lights pointing at him recorded from the ceiling.

Ryker shook his head, trying to regain control of his body. The drug running through his system ramped up the desire to fuck or kill someone. He loped to the wall and tried to find a way to climb to the balcony. The few notches weren't wide enough for his fingers or toes.

A deep voice behind him screamed, “You're goin' to die, motherfucker!”

M
arie wished she could say she was enjoying herself. Wind pulled her hair from under the dive hood and plastered it across her face. She tucked it back in. Most people talked about how exhilarating it was to ride in a speedboat at night as they cut through the waves at a forty-five-degree angle. Sure, the thing was beautiful. Long, sleek lines—blue and silver. Forty-one feet of massive power. The boat was a drag racer on water. She'd asked how fast they were going, but no one heard her. The wind blew away the sound before it reached the other person's ears. Anyway, there were reasons the drivers in speedboat racing wore helmets with microphones and other safety gear.

The operative shifted down the speed until they heard only the slapping of the water against the hull, and the up-and-down motion caused her stomach to churn. She swallowed, hoping not to embarrass herself. Her legs wobbled as she widened her stance to ride each swell. The feeling was nothing like she'd ever experienced before, but Jack told her the waves were small compared to the Atlantic side.

If he said so.

Just thinking of anything bigger turned her stomach, but thankfully Jack had had her take a couple capsules of ginger in an effort to ward off or minimize any seasickness.

“Get your gear. Charlie's already in place and about to hit the switch.” Jack slipped on his flippers and shrugged on his tank with one of the operatives' help. Another operative was lowering two DPVs that would be used in moving them in quickly toward the shore. The part they would enter was deep up to twenty yards from the shore. Then it sloped up quickly. They would drag the DPVs to shore and then an assigned operative would hide them. If they were successful, Jack would call in the boat to the docks on the other side of the island.

Marie hoped and prayed everything would go as planned. Thinking ahead stopped her from worrying about the next few minutes.

By the time one of the men helped her with her gear and she had the regulator in place, her heart was racing. She prayed the eighteen-hour crash course in swimming and diving did the trick. If she felt any wavering, she had only to imagine Ryker's face and how surprised he'd be by her daring. He might be pissed, but he had to realize her capability to adapt increased her value as an operative. Preferably one who worked on land.

Jack clasped her head and looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?”

She wanted to scream,
hell no
, but instead nodded.

“That's my girl.”

R
yker swiped the blood from his cheek onto his shoulder. His patch had disappeared after the first fight. Was this the fifth or sixth time he'd fought in two days? At least, he thought it had been two and no more.

The stench from his own body gave little evidence to the length of time he'd been in this hellhole. A combination of sweat, urine, and blood coating his body and where he lay caused him to gag when they shoved him into the enclosed space. He ignored the aches from bruises and cuts as he concentrated on finding a way out.

He eyed the small opening, trying to see the number of boxes stacked along the metal ledges like toy soldiers waiting for their owners. A couple of them were missing, as they most likely died or were too injured to return to fight. At least, that was what he imagined, along with how he would escape and take revenge on Mulcahy and that crazy bitch, Letitia. Plotting their deaths occupied his mind, stopping him from going insane in the tight, narrow box.

Between the shots of what they now called Morning Glory, he fought whoever they placed in the arena. It was fight or die. The drug shut down the civilized portion of his brain, and he raged like a beast at the nearest target. As soon as he won, they'd pull him down with netting and stick him back into the box.

No food so far, but every few hours, a man's voice encouraged him to sip on the tube inserted through a hole near his mouth. At first, he'd wanted to ignore it, but overwhelmed by his thirst, he caved in. It tasted of minerals and a sick sweetness. If the fluid was drugged, he didn't care at this point. His entire body ached.

Mulcahy and Letitia would make a mistake and he'd be ready. He needed to keep his mind on surviving and getting back to Marie.

The thought of touching her again caused pain to shoot across his cock and down his legs.

He pushed his head back as he squeezed his eye shut. Each time they pushed him out of the box, they promised release. At the rate he was going, if he ever found his cock unwrapped and between a woman's legs, he might hurt her.

Marie's image formed behind his eyelids. He moaned in pain. Every molecule of his body wanted her—wanted between her legs, tasting her lips, her breasts. Shit! He needed to survive. He needed to find some weakness in the arena or in those who captured him each time. If he could convince an opponent to redirect the anger toward their captors, they might have a chance of escaping.

The clang of a metal door opening nearby alerted him it was time to fight again.

“Time for his booster shot. Letitia's calculations so far have been spot-on. What with the energy they're using in the fight, the drug's doing its job. Poor bastards.” The man's voice sounded sympathetic, but Ryker planned to kill the owner.

“He's on in twenty minutes. Make it snappy,” another man said.

The small panel near his shoulder slid to the side. Although he knew it was hopeless, he tried to move away as the needle pierced his skin. Seconds after the panel closed, the drug spread like fire from his arm across his torso and to his groin. Then—
bang!
—his whole body stiffened in pain. He growled and shook the box.

“You sure it'll hold?” The voice sounded worried as he asked someone whose voice Ryker couldn't hear. “I know, but maybe this time it was too strong. She swore the man needed a stronger dosage.”

Heat and desire for relief zinged through his system. Sweat poured down his face. He lived in hell.

Again, he rocked against the sides, rattling his metal coffin. “You better hope I never get my hands around your throat, you son of a bitch. I'm going to kill you and every fucking freak on this island!”

The tingling travelled through his veins. Whimpers escaped even as he bit his lips to hold them back. His eye refused to remain open, no matter how much he fought the overpowering need pulling him into the blackness.

“C
ome on, Marie!” Jack waited in the water, bobbing up and down, a few feet out, waiting for her to jump off the boat.

Fumbling with her gear, she remained calm, even when she stepped off the side. Before she could panic, Jack helped her grab the handle of her DPV. For the next twenty minutes, she stayed up with him, and along the way she chanted in her mind,
Ryker needs me, Ryker needs me
. No way could she say she ever relaxed. But as time slowed to a crawl beneath the water's surface, the crash course in scuba diving and swimming appeared to be paying off.

They stayed deeply enough not to be seen by anyone from the island watching the surface, but close enough that the brightness from the moon reflected on the water above her.

She did well until she spotted the sleek lines of a shark. Not that she panicked at that moment; she remembered Jack saying nothing would attack. In fact, most creatures were more scared of them. For a few seconds she did fine. Then her heart rate picked up. She began to struggle for each draw of air. She hated it. She hated being such a wimp about stupid water. Chances were somewhere in the recesses of her mind, something had happened to cause her to be so afraid, but nothing mattered at this juncture but returning to the surface.