For a moment, she dropped her gaze and her shoulders in defeat, let Kantor get comfortable with the thought that the little woman wasn’t going to struggle. As soon as she drew closer, she shocked him with a knee to the balls, then delivered a round kick to his face. He stood as much as his aching testicles allowed and threw her a mean right cross. Tara bobbed out of the way, sent her left fist screaming into his jaw, then her right into his nose in a nasty one-two. When the impact of the blow shoved his head back, she charged, grabbing his salt-and-pepper waves, then slammed his forehead onto the desk beside him once, twice.
With a grunt, he fell to the floor.
Panting, her fists hurting like hell, Tara took a moment to shove Kantor under the desk, throw the blanket on the cot over him in case someone peeked in, then looked around for some rope or cuffs to secure him with, but found none. With time of the essence, she could only pick up his gun that had skittered across the floor, then shove her way into her sheer dress, which Jordan had left behind.
Turning off the light to the little room, she locked the door behind her and rushed out onto the dungeon floor. She had to find Jordan and occupy him before he reached the Pit. But she also had to get that backup out here pronto. The second Kantor woke, he’d be screaming for her blood. Their cover would be blown, and they’d be unable to go back to their room and contact Bocelli and the team for help. Outnumbered and outgunned, they’d be toast.
And Logan had no idea what was coming for him. There wasn’t a moment to lose. She had to hope that Kantor would be out for a while.
Clutching the gun in the folds of her dress, she scanned the dungeon for Jordan, but he was nowhere to be found. Damn!
Running all the way to her room, taking stairwells and lessertraveled hallways in case Kantor came to, she finally reached her room. It was empty, and Logan’s smell lingered here. Their intimacies hung in the air, and she prayed desperately that they both came out of this alive.
She dug out the sat phone and quickly placed her distress call. A male voice advised her that backup was en route and would be on the island within minutes.
Tara just prayed she could find Logan and that they lived that long.
She stared at the bedside clock, anxiety eating into her gut. Logan should be back by now. But eleven rolled around and he didn’t return, she called Xander’s cell. No answer.
Anxiety became panic as Tara threw on a pair of harem pants in an earthy bronze and a matching bandeau top that covered her breasts but didn’t conceal the rosy pink of her areolas. Very submissive, and she wondered where—and when—Logan had bought this stuff for her. She hoped like hell she got the opportunity to ask. At the moment, she was more thankful that the sheer pants, while showcasing her bare pussy, had pockets at each thigh. She slipped the gun into one, a can of pepper spray into the other.
As much as she wanted the shoes for running, she didn’t dare tip off any of the other resort employees that anything was amiss. Instead, she left her previous costume on the bed. If Logan returned, he’d know at a glance that she’d been here and hopefully wait for her.
Cracking the door open, Tara peeked down the hall both ways. She didn’t see Kantor. Pressing her hand to her nervous stomach, she stepped into the hall and around the first corner, toward the dark hall that led to the Pit’s elevator.
Her hallway joined with another in a T, and as she passed it, she turned to see a familiar, out-of-place figure in a dark suit bearing down on her.
“Tara!”
She blinked and tried to reconcile his appearance. “Adam . . . what are you doing here?”
“Thank God, I found you.” He pressed a hand over his chest. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“You’re not supposed to be here!” She was on a mission, and he knew it. Why the hell would he turn up here and blow her cover?
“It’s fine, Tara. It’s over. Darcy has been recovered.”
A warm rush of profound relief went through her. “Thank God! How did you find out?”
Adam sent her a sheepish smile. “I asked Bocelli to contact me once things were over. He knows how worried I’ve been, so he gave me the green light to find you and take you home.”
She held in a groan. As a former agent, Adam had to know that showing up here at the conclusion of her mission was, in short, embarrassing. If her own stepfather didn’t think she could take care of herself, then no one who worked with her would believe she could, either.
But she’d worry about that later. Darcy was okay, and that was more important than anything. Except . . . “Who found her? And how? Were there other active agents on the island?” And why hadn’t she known about them?
“Bocelli didn’t give me details. I was just so grateful that he let me come and assure myself that you’re safe.”
Tara frowned. That sounded unusual. Bocelli wasn’t old enough to be soft or sentimental. He struck her as a straight-up agent with a will of steel, so the man telling her stepfather that he could take her home right away, before debriefing? Really unusual. And she’d just talked to someone from the ground team Bocelli had set up moments ago. None of them had said a word about the mission being over to her. How would Adam have been close enough to get the news and get here?
“I’ve been so worried, and I’m relieved that you’re unharmed and well.”
This felt like a bizarre dream, where things happened but none of the events were logical. She frowned.
“Princess?” He walked closer and held out an arm, as if he meant to embrace her. “Come with me, and I’ll take you to Darcy.”
Your stepfather killed my mother. Logan’s words flashed through her head. Twenty minutes ago, she would have never believed it. She wasn’t sure she believed it now. Her stepfather was former FBI—one of the good guys, right? He’d never exhibited a violent tendency. But his presence here didn’t add up.
What reason would Adam have for lying to her?
Up the hallway, the sudden pounding of footsteps grabbed her attention. She turned to find Logan charging up the hallway, gun in hand, pointed at her stepfather.
Did Logan mean to subdue Adam or just shoot him?
“Tara!” Fury poured from his eyes as he stopped a few inches from her and jerked on her arm. “Get behind me.”
She resisted. “What is going on?”