junkie?” she guessed.
“And a control freak—which means I really understand how you detested being so powerless. I’d have hated it, too.”
But he wouldn’t have been so helpless against them. Somehow, Molly thought Dare would have found a way to not only escape, but to wipe the cretins out for good.
He took her silence for interest, which was okay because she found him intriguing. And listening to him kept her from stewing over her own awful predicament.
“I’m obsessive about details,” he told her. “That’s made me reliable enough to cultivate contacts everywhere, but Mexico is the easiest. For a fee, the coyotes can usually give me information I can’t uncover otherwise.”
“Coyotes? You mean the people who smuggle illegal aliens into the country?”
Dare nodded. “Yeah, but they’re also useful when you need help getting back out of Tijuana. It’s a sad fact that in many areas human trafficking isn’t that much of a secret, so plenty of people are usually in the loop about new acquisitions.”
She thought of the young Caucasian girl who’d been held in the trailer with her. “Your friend Alani had very unique coloring.”
He nodded. “That made it easier for others to remember her, but not that many got to see her. They were saving her for a big sale, I’m sure.”
Wretched, horrible men, to plan such a thing for a young girl. She hated them, all of them.
Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Molly could make out Dare’s profile. She remembered that thunk right before he’d joined her in the bed. “You have a gun with you.”
“On the nightstand,” he confirmed. “A Glock 9mm. Does it bother you?”
She shook her head.
When he said, “Good,” she realized that he could see her, too.
“May I see it?”
“You’ve already seen it.”
“I mean … hold it.”
He made a sound that could have passed for humor. “Hell, no.”
Well. Molly didn’t know if she should be offended or not. Then she thought of those awful men…. “Have you ever shot anyone?”
With no hesitation, Dare said, “Yes.”
Her heart pumped hard. She licked her lips, drew a breath. “Did you … shoot the men who were guarding the trailer?”
He looked at her again. After some consideration, he asked, “Why?”
Her voice sounded more raw than she intended, but Molly was helpless to state things any differently. “They’re brutal beasts who take pleasure in hurting women.”
“In hurting you,” he agreed with quiet sympathy.
Her nose stuffed up. Her throat tightened. “They …”
Oh, God, it was almost impossible to talk. Her voice kept breaking, going higher, weaker. But Dare didn’t prompt her, didn’t rush her. He just waited in supportive silence.
“They wanted to make me cry. They wanted to make me beg.” She sniffed, drew a breath. “Just for sport.”
Without a word, as if they knew each other well, he pulled her up against his chest and put his chin to the top of her head. After a few seconds, he said, “You know, Molly, if I could, I’d kill them for you again.”
She jerked, then whispered in awe, “Again?”
“Yeah.”
Dizziness assailed her. “So you did kill them?”
“Damn right.” He looked down at her. “They needed killing.”
“Yes, they did.” The men were gone; they couldn’t hurt her, or anyone else, ever again. As the tension eased out of her, her heavy eyelids sank down, almost closing.
Great relief came from the knowledge that they were gone forever.
Dawn began to creep through the heavy drapes, and for the first time in days, Molly greeted it with hope. “Dare?”
“Yeah?”
She hugged him tight. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER THREE
WHILE SIPPING COFFEE and watching her sleep, Dare went over possible scenarios for the day. First on the agenda, he had to decide what to do with Ms. Molly Alexander.
He couldn’t just dump her, because she shouldn’t be alone right now and didn’t seem to have anyone to go to. She refused the police, not that they could be of much help anyway. So, then … what to do with her?
It wasn’t like he could keep her.
He wanted to get back home to check on his girls, and thinking that, he lifted his cell phone and put in a call. Chris Chapey, his personal assistant, answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Dare. I want to hear some good news.”
Dare rolled his eyes. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get Chris to answer the phone properly. Sure, Chris always checked the caller ID first, so he knew it was Dare, but still … “Alani is with Trace now.”
“Fucking-A. Perfect news.” But then, with more sensitivity: “She’s … okay, isn’t she?”
“Depends on your definition of okay, I guess. But I think she’ll recoup. It’s for certain that Trace won’t let her take another vacation without him—not for a hell of a long time.” Or until Alani had a man of her own to keep her safe.
“Can’t say as I blame him,” Chris said. “I assume that you got through things unscathed?”
He glanced toward Molly, asleep in the bed. A bed they’d shared—in the platonic sense. “More or less.”
“So, when are you going to be home?”
“Not sure yet. I have a—” Suddenly, as if she’d felt his gaze, Molly’s eyes opened. They were puffy from sleeping hard, and a little unfocused—until they locked on his. She again gave him that startled, caught look. “A complication.”
Showing no reaction to that, Molly rolled to her back a moment and yawned, then pushed back the covers and sat up. She gingerly stretched and winced. Beneath the now-wrinkled clothes, Dare noted once again that although she was thin, she still had an abundance of curves.
How the hell had he ever missed that? Not that he’d been checking her out, but it was a little hard to miss now that he had noticed.
Shoulders slumped, Molly sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, just breathing and maybe taking personal stock of aches
