Chayton Read Free

seemed a bit of an ill fit, a shade too big around the waist and bust. Blonde hair had been piled into an artful knot, accentuating the sweet oval shape of her face. Smooth skin offset a pair of stormy gray eyes. The glow coming from a nearby window highlighted her fragile bone structure, pronounced jaw line, and gently curved chin. Her mouth was soft and lush and very slightly pink, as if she'd spent the better part of the evening gnawing the flesh with her teeth. She was the kind of woman you found on the arm of a wealthy man at some extravagant party, not someone who dealt with the hard men of the trafficking rings.
    “I don't have to tell you anything,” she said between one heavy breath and the next. “And I'm not going back. He can't make me marry him. You tell him I said so.”
    Chayton frowned, towering over her and using his body to keep her pinned against the counter. He had no idea what she was talking about. “You need to start explaining. Right now. Who is trying to make you marry him? Or is that just a clever ploy to throw me off track?”
    For several minutes, they stared at each other. Wearing a frown, the woman—Penelope—searched his eyes while he searched hers. Something felt very off here, Chayton thought, and started to believe that she really had nothing to do with the trafficking ring. The strident nature of her retort struck him as coming from the heart, rather than a contrived reply. Still, he'd been around the block a time or two and knew really good actors could pull off just such a stunt, throwing their adversary off track.
    “You know very well who I'm talking about. You've been stalking me for the past two weeks.”
    “I'm going to give you ten seconds to tell me what's going on, and then things are going to get ugly. Your choice—the easy way, or the hard way.” Chayton threw down the gauntlet. There was more than one way to get to the truth and he would pull out all stops in his quest for answers.

Chapter Two
    Oh, this was not going at all how she'd hoped. Upon hearing the door open, she'd hid in the closet out of an irrational fear that the henchmen had found her. The following silence had unnerved her to the point she'd slipped a hanger off the rack for self defense. Had it been a normal guest, she would have heard the usual things: shoes coming off, a television turning on, perhaps a conversation via cell phone.
    Not only didn't she hear those things, she hadn't heard anything. Not the slightest sound. The looming shadow appearing in the closet solidified her worst fears—they knew she was here.
    Staring up at the henchman with all his wounds and frowning eyes, Kate considered her options. Tell him what he already knew, or fight for all she was worth in hopes she got lucky and escaped. He was strong, though, pinning her against the counter with almost too much ease. Rather than an overload of obscene muscle, he was built leaner, more honed and sleek. Kate didn't think she could take him.
    “Look,” she said with a desperate swipe of her tongue across her lower lip, “I'll pay you three times what he's paying you. All you have to do is let me go. I'll give you cash, and you can just say I surprised you and got away.”
    The man's brows arched. “Who, exactly, do you think is paying me?”
    “Are you going to make me spell it out?”
    “Yes.”
    “Anton Bertini. That low life, murdering swine. Are you happy now?” The few swallows of alcohol she'd imbibed threatened to unravel her fury and bring tears to her eyes at the mention of murder. No, she wouldn't give any of them the satisfaction of seeing her pain. And that slightly bemused look on the man's face wouldn't sway her one bit. This bastard was trying to play her like a fiddle.
    “What if I told you that I had no idea who Anton Bertini is, and that I had nothing to do with...whatever you're involved in? What if I could prove it?”
    Surprised, Kate frowned. He looked and sounded quite sincere. Could she have the wrong