His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(17)
Author: Shayla Black

She heard what he was saying, and in his shoes she’d probably think that she was the missing girl, too. But it just didn’t compute. She had a good memory. How could she possibly have let a quadruple homicide slip her mind? Her parents had been insistent that the dreams were simply products of her imagination and that she’d never been in danger. Even her psychologist had comforted her with the idea that her nightmares were probably nothing more than a representation of her fears. Which made sense to her. Every time she had the dream, she woke in a terrified shudder and often stayed up for hours. She even had a collection of comedies queued up on Netflix to help her forget.

“I grant you the coincidences are really weird, but me being that girl . . . it doesn’t add up.”

Because it scares you.

“Of course it does,” Bailey answered automatically.

Then she gasped. What the hell had just happened? He hadn’t spoken in English. In fact, she didn’t remember ever having heard that language. Yet . . . she knew exactly what he’d said.

“Because you know I’m right. And you understand Russian.” His smile turned savage.

“Lucky guess.” She felt herself paling, struggling to comprehend.

“Bullshit. You’re the woman I’ve been looking for. Do you want to know your real name?”

This could not be happening. “Bailey Benson. I have no idea how you figured out what was in my dreams. I can’t imagine why you chose me to taunt or mess with or whatever. But I am not going to believe the mad ravings of some guy who—call it what you want—drugged me, dragged me from my bed, and tied me to his. And now you’re telling me that the parents who gave birth to me aren’t my parents at all and that I survived a massacre. No.”

“Why would I lie? Why would I risk going to fucking prison to save you if I didn’t absolutely believe what I’m saying?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know you. I don’t understand any of this. I need to get out of here.”

“Do you remember the picture on my phone? You want to look like that?” he challenged, pulling his mobile from his pocket. “If you don’t remember how grisly it was, I can show you again.”

No. God, no. Bailey shut her eyes. “I don’t need to see it.”

“Maybe you do if you’re going to try to bury your head in the sand and pretend that I’m some random loon.”

He had to be. She didn’t have a better explanation, but abducting a woman from her bed proved that he couldn’t be dipping both oars, right? Believing she was some other woman who knew Russian and had totally different parents until they were butchered when she was five . . . Hell no.

He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed again. When he lifted a hand to her, Bailey flinched, tried to shrink back, but he only pushed the hair from her face and cupped her cheek.

“Don’t touch me,” she spit out, her heart pounding.

Immediately, he eased back. “I’m not trying to scare you, just give you comfort.”

“You want to comfort me? Leave me the hell alone. Let me go.”

A long moment passed. He hesitated, seeming to ponder the situation and giving her another one of those piercing stares that made her shiver. Finally, he stood.

“I can give you half of what you want. I’ll leave you for a bit and give you some time to think. But I can’t let you go. You’re here until I can figure out how to keep you safe. Too many people have died for this cause already, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them add you to the list. You hungry?”

Honestly, she was. And her stubborn pride wanted to refuse to take food from him. The other part of her knew that if she wanted to have the strength later to escape, she couldn’t cut off her nose to spite her face.

“Yes.”

“Your medical records say you’re allergic to peanuts. Anything else? Foods you don’t like.”

How had he learned that? Bailey didn’t want to ask. She just shook her head.

“Fine. I’ll have someone bring you something shortly.”

So they weren’t alone? Maybe someone else would show up and take pity on her, realize that she didn’t belong here and—

“I see the wheels turning in that pretty head. No one here will help you. They all know the stakes and won’t let you escape. There’s no way out of here anyhow.” He stalked over to the big floor-to-ceiling windows and opened the shutters. Sunlight streamed in . . . and bars covered the windows.

She wasn’t escaping easily.

Her captor fished in his pocket and extracted a key. He leaned over her, their faces too close as he braced his hands on the headboard and peered into her eyes. Breathing turned difficult. Her heart thumped hard against her chest.