Kidnapped by the Billionaire by Jackie Ashenden

Author:Jackie Ashenden
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466890176
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

CHAPTER TWELVE

Elijah came to, his vision blurry, his cheekbone hurting like fuck and his shoulder wound feeling like someone had kicked the shit out of it with steel-capped boots.

Jesus, what the hell had happened? Last thing he remembered, he’d finally gotten the phone call he’d been hoping for, the one from one Jericho’s flunkies naming a time and place for a meeting. Then after he’d ended the call, he’d come out of the kitchen area to find Violet standing there with the Heinlein Marie had given him for their first wedding anniversary.

And she’d asked him … what? Something important. Something that had hollowed him out like she’d reached inside him with a melon-baller and scooped out his heart.

After that … Shit, that’s right. The front door of his apartment had flown open—God knew how, since his security system was state of the art and no one should have been able to get past it—and Gabriel Woolf and his merry band of assholes had burst in.

Mother fuck … What had he missed? What had he done that had given his position away?

He blinked hard, trying to get his eyesight working, taking a scan around at where he was.

Bare room. Concrete floor and gray brick walls. No windows. Lit with a harsh, white fluorescent light. Your standard torture room in other words.

He was sitting in a chair, unbound, which was a mercy. But not, apparently, unguarded.

In front of him stood four people. Woolf. Rutherford. King. And Alex St. James. They were all looking at him, their expressions ranging from completely blank to ice cold to furious. None of them had guns but he felt the prickle at the back of his neck that told him someone somewhere had a weapon trained on him.

A slight turn of his head and he spotted a fifth person. The bodyguard, Ivanova. She was the one with the weapon and it was pointed directly at his head.

Okay then.

He said nothing, shifting slightly in the chair, staring back at them expressionlessly because he’d be fucked if he gave them anything. Their insistence on sticking their noses where they didn’t belong had ended up destroying years of planning. They were no friends of his.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hunt.” Rutherford was the one who broke the silence, his cut-glass British accent sharp. “I have to commend your ingenuity. You’ve proven to be a bit of a bastard to track down.”

Elijah shrugged, fighting down the urge to wince as the movement aggravated his shoulder wound. “I’m hardly likely to make it easy for you.”

Rutherford’s amber gaze dropped to Elijah’s shoulder. He was still bare-chested and wearing the shorts he’d put on to take out his rage on the punching bag. Felt like years ago. The bandages were bloody again and he had a sudden flashback, of Violet’s hands on him, wrapping the gauze around his shoulder, her fingers gentle …

“Is your wound troubling you?” Rutherford murmured. “I apologize. It’s not like me to miss.”

Elijah ignored the dig. “Mind hurrying this Q&A session, or whatever the fuck this is, along? I have things I need to do.

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