HUNTED Read online

  He outright ignores me for a full minute before half-turning to look at me, his face devoid of emotion. “We can’t stay here; this is only temporary. One of my men is looking for the kind of place we’ll need so we can hole up for a while,” he informs.

  “What do you mean?” I take another cautious step in his direction.

  He shifts on the stool so that he can completely face me. “There are likely more that were sent after you.” His expression turns questioning. “Did they say anything to you?”

  “One of the men was on the phone. He was calling someone,” I offer.

  His eyes sharpen. “Did you get a name?”

  I shake my head. “They were speaking Spanish,” I add.

  He nods. “Columbian, I figured as much.” His eyes study me. “If they wanted you dead, they would have simply sent a sniper and kept it clean. They must want to use you against your father.”

  “For what?” I ask with confusion.

  “Hell if I know. You’re lucky, because whatever their intentions are, they want you alive. For now,” he deliberately adds.

  My head is beginning to pound, and I rub my left temple. “I didn’t think anyone would notice the letter,” I say softly.

  He stares at me. “Do you have any idea how many hands touched that letter? They’re pre-opened before the prisoners receive them.”

  I absolutely hate how silly I feel, but I try to push past it. “You said we’re going somewhere else?” I ask, changing the subject.

  He nods. “We can’t be sure we weren’t followed. We flew, but that doesn’t mean shit—there are ways to find out just about anything if you know where to look for the leads. Making a new life for you is pointless unless we can be certain the immediate threat has been taken care of. So, until we are certain, you and I have to find a better place to stay—somewhere that I’ll have more control over who comes and goes. I don’t have that here in this building.”

  He gives me a grim look and continues, “A new life and cover isn’t going to be easy, and possibly next to impossible. You have certain…physical characteristics that can’t be hidden.”

  I’m acutely aware that he’s referring to my limp. He’s also very right. Damn it.

  I really, really messed up.

  “Hungry?” he asks, relenting with his harsh behavior towards me.

  “A little,” I admit.

  He nods to the bakery bag on the counter that I hadn’t noticed until now. “There’s a couple of donuts inside.”

  “Thank you,” I say politely and limp over to the farthest stool from him, my leg aching fiercely as I gingerly sit down. I open the bag and pull out a white, frosted donut.

  I’ve just taken a bite when his voice breaks the heavy silence. “Everything of yours needed to be left behind. Once we’re situated later, I’ll have you do some online shopping to replace whatever you need.”

  It sinks in that I literally only have the clothes on my back. Thankfully, I didn’t have important mementos or anything of the likes. Still, it’s a little disappointing knowing that I have to start all over. Instead of commenting about the situation, I continue eating the donut.

  “When you’re finished, you can take a shower if you want. Just be careful of your thigh.” His eyes meet mine. “I had to stitch your cut; it was too deep to stop bleeding on its own. Your hands will probably sting a while, but you should be able to remove those bandages and keep them off,” he informs.

  “Thank you,” I say gratefully, no longer upset that he’d tended to my injuries while I was unconscious. I’ve caused a lot of trouble, and yet he’s still here, making sure I remain safe. I’m lucky he hasn’t given me what I’d originally wanted—my complete freedom without anyone watching over me anymore. I’m sure the thought has crossed his mind.

  “How did you know I was in trouble?” I ask curiously.

  He says nothing, his attention returning to the laptop’s screen.

  My eyes narrow. “You’re the one who’s been following me.”

  “You’re breathing because I was—something you’ve been making difficult for a while now,” he replies, still studying the screen.

  I sigh inwardly. “Do you have a name?”

  “Kane. I need to focus, Tessa.”

  “I’ll go take that shower,” I mutter, easing off the stool with my half-eaten donut.

  Five

  Tessa

  I am acutely aware of Kane as he drives.

  It’s midevening, and the sun has set and darkness has fallen. We’re currently in a nondescript SUV driving through the city to a new location. We haven’t spoken much since I’d taken my shower. He’d seemed very engrossed with his computer and phone, so I’d stayed out of the way and kept close to the bedroom because of my leg.

  I haven’t wanted to make a big deal out of the pain I’m in, because I’m certain we’d have to make an extra stop to buy pain reliever. Or, he would have had whomever secured our new location buy some. I’ve caused enough trouble, so I don’t want to cause further issues.

  For now, I just need to process everything that’s happened.

  My calf feels like it’s cramping, and I try to straighten my leg the best that I can without being too obvious.

  Kane notices and glances at me as we slow for a red light. “Leg bothering you?”

  “Not at all,” I lie.

  He doesn’t say anything, and as the light switches to green, he returns his attention to driving.

  As we pass under the light, the green glow flickers throughout the interior, and I study Kane’s profile. He is definitely a good-looking man, but more in a rough, edgy way. His features aren’t perfect, but they’re still striking. He’s the type that would draw a second look from women—young and old. I’ve also been trying to guess his age, and I’m thinking he’s in his early thirties. Maybe slightly older, but it can’t be by much.

  I know absolutely nothing about this man, and my life is in his hands. It’s daunting, and my stomach has been tied in knots since the moment I’d woken in the unfamiliar bedroom.

  The only thing I know for certain is that he seems to be in charge of his colleagues. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d called them ‘his men’ earlier. He also seems to know exactly what he’s doing, and I wonder if he has a background in armed forces.

  I’ve also been speculating if he’s the one who had been sending me the texts the past few years.

  My eyes shift to the side view mirror outside my window. I’m certain one or two of his colleagues are making sure we safely make it to our destination, but I haven’t been able to single them out from the other vehicles.

  I’m still completely lost in thought when Kane turns down a side street between old warehouses before turning down another street. Soon, we are pulling in behind an old, industrial building.

  He cuts the engine and silence surrounds us.

  I look around at what appears to be a vacant building and lot. “Where are we?” I ask as my eyes swing back to him.

  In the now darkened interior, he says, “Home for the time being.”

  I stare after him as he climbs out of the vehicle and walks over to a keypad beside a large, industrial door.

  He can’t be serious.

  A second later, the door creeps upwards after Kane had typed in a passcode of some sort. Lights are flickering on inside the depths of the building, and I frown as Kane makes his way back to the driver’s side.

  He climbs into the seat and pulls the SUV forward into the building before parking it. “Tomorrow, I’ll work on getting a controller,” he tells me.

  We get out of the vehicle, and I look around the huge, empty space. It’s old and looks like it’d once been a factory of some sort. The floor is cement, and there are faded painted lines here and there, designating areas of some sort. Scratches and screw holes mar the cement floor in some places, revealing that machinery had probably once stood there.

  There’s also a very strong odor of metal and grease or something. “W
hat is this place?” I ask, my hushed voice echoing around us.

  “It’s an industrial building. There’s a loft upstairs,” he informs.

  I follow him across the room to what appears to be a large elevator with doors that open horizontally. Kane presses a button to call the elevator, and a second later, it dings.

  He reaches for the strap on the upper door and looks at me. “There’s a latch here for the bottom,” he explains as he opens both doors simultaneously.

  I nod and study the cage doors that clearly open to the sides. He unlatches them and motions me inside. I step into the elevator, and he closes the cage door and repeats the process before pressing the arrow going up.

  I’m quiet as the elevator carries us up to the second floor. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t an industrial building.

  Kane opens the doors once more when the elevator comes to a surprisingly smooth halt, and we step out into the loft.

  I look around with interest.

  The loft is very large and open with minimal windows. Wood flooring covers the floor, and high beams span their way across the ceiling above. Round lights are hanging from the beams to equally distribute lighting throughout the loft. The farthest outer wall is made of brick, and that’s where the kitchen is located. There’s a countertop along the wall with cupboards above and a sink along the counter, a stainless steel refrigerator, and an oven.

  Then, spaced a few feet from the counter, is an island table situated on its own, separating the kitchen from the living room. A couple of tall stools are situated along its side.

  In the living room, there is a single, extra-long sofa covered in soft, brown cushions. A large coffee table sits before it, and I see three laptops resting on its wooden tabletop, and beside the table’s legs, are three duffel bags.

  My eyes swing around to scan the rest of the loft.

  Across the room is a doorway leading to what must be the bathroom. Then, around the far corner of the wall is a nearly hidden spiral staircase leading to the small, second-floor landing. Through the railing that edges the landing, I spy a bed and nightstand.

  The only room with walls and a door is the bathroom, and I’m rattled by that realization. Not to mention there appears to be only one bed in the loft.

  Kane seems to accurately read my expression. “I’ll take the sofa; the bed is yours.” He walks over to the coffee table and picks up a bottle of pain reliever that I hadn’t noticed earlier. He offers the bottle to me.

  I’m surprised but thankful as I step forward and accept it.

  “I know the stairs will be a hassle, but this is the best we could get under such short notice,” he explains.

  I look around, feeling wary. “This is safe?”

  When my gaze returns to his, his expression is reassuring. “It’s well-hidden, and if anyone tries to get in, we’ll hear it.”

  “But won’t we be cornered?” I can’t help but ask.

  “There’s a fire exit behind the stairwell.”

  I don’t know what to say, and I look around once more. Everything is so…open. The bedroom has no privacy wall separating it from the rest of the room—just a railing.

  The only real privacy in this place is the bathroom.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll set you up with a card and computer, and you can order whatever you need to make this place more comfortable for yourself. Same goes for clothing and all that you’ll need. I’ll have someone pick up your orders and deliver them here.”

  “How long will we be here?” I ask.

  He holds my gaze. “As long as it takes. There’s a lot that needs to be resolved before we can begin trying to hide you again with a new identity,” he says bluntly.

  I look at him with regret. “I really didn’t mean for this to happen, Kane.”

  He says nothing, and a heavy silence falls over us.

  “There’s a new toothbrush and stuff in the bathroom,” he finally says. “You’ll want to make a grocery list tomorrow of the foods that you like. We need to stock up.”

  I nod, sensing that he wants me out of his way for a while. I can’t blame him. I turn and self-consciously limp to the bathroom and step inside, closing the door behind me.

  Not surprising, the bathroom is quite small. The walls are black brick, and to the left is a bathtub and shower, a simple red shower curtain hanging from the top rungs. A black toilet is situated against the wall next to the shower. Then, immediately to the right, is a vanity mirror with a black sink and counter that spans the rest of the short wall—black cabinets located beneath for storage. The only color in the bathroom are the red towels, soap dispenser, and the shower curtain.

  This is definitely a man’s domain.

  Feeling tired, I release a soft sight and study the items on the countertop. There’s a package of four toothbrushes, two tubes of toothpaste, a package of plastic cups, floss, a bar of soap, and women’s shampoo.

  I open the package of plastic cups and fill one with water before swallowing down two pills. Then, I brush my teeth and use the bathroom.

  When I reenter the loft, I see that Kane has three laptops open on the coffee table. He’s sitting on the sofa, frowning at one.

  He doesn’t even look my way.

  Slowly, and as quietly as possible, I make my way to the spiral staircase, noting the fire exit Kane had mentioned. From the other side of the loft, it’s impossible to see that it’s there.

  Carefully, I navigate the stairs. Up on the second level, I study the bed situated against the solid wall. Surprisingly, the bed has been made with dark navy blue sheets with two fluffy, brand new pillows.

  I’m ready to sleep away the past twenty-four hours.

  After I pull back the sheets, I climb in and lie down on my back. I know if I turn onto my side, I’ll have a full view of the entire loft.

  When I hear movement down below, I turn my head and see Kane rise to his feet. He walks to the kitchen and turns off two light switches. All the lights in the loft go out except for the one hanging above the sofa.

  The light from over the sofa doesn’t reach up here, so it’s pleasantly dark, and I feel hidden from view. Still sore, I turn onto my side and watch Kane sit back down on the sofa.

  He’s still quite mad at me, but hopefully things will be better tomorrow. I can’t keep apologizing, and what’s done is done. I can’t take it back.

  The loft doesn’t appear to have central air, and I’m beginning to sweat. I should probably take off the leggings, but I don’t want to. I feel better keeping my legs covered.

  * * *

  “Hello, Adriana Escudero. Many people have been looking for you,” the man in front of me greets in Spanish.

  He’s not even finished speaking, and I’m already running through the living room to find a door to put between myself and the men.

  My limp is no match for either of them, and one of them catches me easily before shoving me towards the sofa. Unfortunately, my weak leg causes me to stumble. I fall onto the glass coffee table, landing on it just right apparently for it to break. It shatters beneath me, and I lie amongst the glass, stunned.

  I’m forcibly yanked onto my back, and I stare dazedly up at the man who’d spoken earlier. He slaps me across the face, and my bottom lip splits as I flinch from the force of the blow.

  He glares down at me without remorse and then begins to shake me repeatedly. “It’s just a nightmare, Tessa,” he says, his voice calm, but it doesn’t match his vicious expression.

  I try to pull away from the grip he has on my upper arms.

  “Tessa.”

  I abruptly awaken to realize that someone is gently shaking me. I’m about to scream, but I swallow it back when I recognize Kane. Gradually, reality seeps into my consciousness, and I blink a few times as I take in my surroundings.

  The only light in the loft is coming from the first floor, and the upper-level is somewhat dark, but I can still make out Kane hovering over me. He appears to be shirtless as the light from be
low gleams across his broad shoulders.

  His hands release my shoulders, but he continues leaning over me. “You fully awake?” he asks lightly.

  I can’t see his expression since his face is in the shadows, but I am very much aware of his masculine body hovering so close to mine.

  “I’m awake,” I say softly.

  He moves back. Then, without a word, he walks away, making his way back down the stairs.

  I turn onto my side and watch him cross the room to the sofa. I shouldn’t be noticing how his skin looks bronzed in the low light, or the way his shoulders are so broad, or how defined his ab muscles are. Or how his jeans hang low on his hips, revealing the ridges of his hip bones. I can’t resist admiring his body, though. He obviously keeps himself in prime physical condition.

  Kane sits down on the sofa, apparently still focused on the computers. I watch as he reaches for a cigarette resting on the edge of an ashtray and brings it to his mouth. If he’s aware of me watching him, he doesn’t show it.

  I barely know him, but I feel safe with him. Knowing what he’s capable of makes me uneasy, but at the same time, I know he’ll do what needs to be done to protect me.

  The nightmare has faded, and the knowledge that Kane will keep me safe makes it easier to close my eyes as sleep tugs at me once more.

  Six

  Tessa

  The next few days pass by slowly, and most of the time, I feel like I’m tiptoeing around Kane.

  He’s either still pissed at me, or he’s naturally unfriendly. He barely speaks to me unless it’s necessary—otherwise, he’s usually absorbed with his computers, headed for the elevator with his phone to speak somewhere privately, or he’s smoking near the window by the kitchen.

  The windows are located too high on the wall to look out, but there is a lever on the wall that will crack them open to allow fresh air inside the loft.

  Most of my time is spent on a fourth laptop, and I’ve been given a credit card so that I can order things online. I don’t recognize the name on the card, but I suppose that’s the point.