Maya Banks - Forged in Steele

Her hands were shaking. She had no control over how blatantly her fear was being broadcast. There was no point in trying to put up a brave front. She was scared shitless and he knew it.

“You can’t just keep me here,” she said in a low voice.

He lifted one eyebrow. “The way I see it, you don’t have a choice in the matter. I run this entire area. There is no one to help you. No one to seek help from. I am the law here and what I say goes. The sooner you understand that, the easier things will be for you.”

She shook her head. “You’re crazy!”

His eyes narrowed at her insult. “Go now and change into your dress before you say something you’ll regret. I will not tolerate any disrespect in my home. Understand?”

She was tempted to say, Or what? But she wasn’t stupid. There was no way she was going to give him any reason to hurt her or her baby.

Judging by his level of craziness, if he discovered she was pregnant, he’d go off the hinges. She just had to hope like hell she found a way out of this predicament before it became evident that she was carrying another man’s child. There was no telling how he’d react to that piece of news.

MAREN sat rigidly in her chair on the terrace of Mendoza’s enormous estate. For three days she’d been kept here and she still had no idea why. She’d feared that Mendoza was some crazy idiot obsessed with her, and she’d even feared he’d force himself on her. But in fact, she’d been treated as a pampered guest, waited on hand and foot and her every need seen to. Except, of course, the biggest need of all. To get the hell out of here and as far away from him as possible.

After that first night, she hadn’t seen Carlos even once. Instead, Mendoza’s other goon, a tall, muscled guy named Armand, kept close watch on her. He unnerved her. He almost never spoke, but she got the impression he missed nothing. His gaze was piercing and he knew every single thing that went on under Mendoza’s roof. He’d also returned her glasses, but they’d cracked when they’d fallen from her face during her abduction and were useless now. He’d muttered something about replacing them, but she’d told him not to bother. What did she need them for here? Nothing to read. No medical reports or injuries she needed to focus on.

Though there was no actual lock on her bedroom door, she wasn’t under any misapprehension that she could simply walk out. She knew this because every time she opened her door, Armand appeared as if he’d materialized from thin air.

Mendoza might have creeped her out, but Armand scared her shitless. He reminded her a lot of Steele. Not in looks. But he had that warrior persona. You just knew by looking at him that he could kick ass and probably had a hundred ways of killing a man with just his pinkie finger.

His expression was always unreadable. She’d never detected any hint of emotion. He was just . . . blank. Scary and blank.

Voices carried softly to her on the wind and she turned in the direction they came from. She’d been sitting for ten minutes waiting for Mendoza to make his appearance. Armand had collected her from her room after instructing her to dress for dinner in the outfit Mendoza had sent her. Delivered by Armand, of course. Armand had deposited her into her seat and promptly disappeared.

She strained harder to hear what was being said. From the little she’d heard Armand speak, she knew he was talking to Mendoza.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea to use her,” Armand said. “It would be easy to find another doctor for what you want.”

“I want her,” Mendoza said, a thread of steel in his voice.

“You’re risking a lot for a woman you have the hots for,” Armand said, criticism obvious in his tone. “She has connections to a private organization that could cause a lot of trouble for you.”

Maren sucked in her breath, her eyes widening in shock. How the hell would Armand know anything about KGI? Much less her connection to them. Panic surged in her chest, tightening until she could barely breathe. What the hell was going on? And what did Mendoza want to use her for?

She’d prayed steadily over the last three days that Steele would return quickly. Surely if he found her gone, her clinic unopened, he wouldn’t just assume she’d gone off on a whim. He’d look for her. She had to believe that. And she hoped to hell he hurried, because she had no idea what Mendoza had in mind for her, but it couldn’t be good.

“They are no match for me,” Mendoza said arrogantly.

“That’s what you think,” Maren muttered under her breath.

“Don’t underestimate her connections,” Armand said in a soft voice. “Underestimation will get a man killed every time.”

“You act as though you think this organization of hers is more powerful than I am. Besides, we’re leaving soon. Then they won’t be of any worry to me at all.”

“A wise man always watches his six,” Armand replied.

Maren frowned and then straightened in her seat when she heard them walking in her direction. She stared into the distance and raised her glass of water to her lips, pretending she hadn’t heard them at all.

Armand sounded military to her. It was the way he spoke, the jargon he used. He was American, though. A traitor? Defector? Or just a lackey for hire, willing to farm out his services to whoever had the money to pay him?

“Maren, you look beautiful,” Mendoza said smoothly when he and Armand rounded the corner of the terrace. “I was correct that that color would be stunning on you. It accentuates your eyes quite nicely.”

She gritted her teeth and forced back the caustic reply that hovered on her lips.

Mendoza waved his hand at Armand. “You may leave us now. Be back in an hour’s time to take Maren back to her room.”

Armand glanced her way and stared a long moment before nodding and retreating.

Mendoza sat down across from her and then held up his hand to snap his fingers. In an instant, a servant appeared bearing a tray with their dinner plates.

A plate of grilled fish was set in front of her, and as she stared down at it, her stomach rebelled at the mere idea of putting it in her mouth. She sucked in steadying breaths through her nose, willing the nausea to go away.

Pregnancy had made her hypersensitive to smells, and the slightly fishy odor emanating from the plate sent her right over the edge.

“You don’t look well,” Mendoza said.

She glanced up to see him watching her, lazy amusement in his eyes.

“I can’t eat this,” she said, pushing it away.

“Any particular reason?”

“I can think of several. Being held against my will isn’t exactly great for inspiring an appetite,” she snapped.

“And it couldn’t be because you’re carrying a child and the thought of food makes you ill?” he asked mildly.

She couldn’t control her reaction. Her fear had to have been broadcast for the entire world to see. She pushed back from the table in a protective measure, putting as much distance between her and him as possible. How the hell could he know she was pregnant? Then, just as quickly, she dismissed her incredulity. Armand was her constant shadow and knew of her visits to the bathroom in the mornings and her sickness. He’d likely taken a stab in the dark, but she had betrayed herself with her reaction and now he knew his shot had been true.

“There’s no reason to panic. I have no intention of harming you or your child.”

“You’ll pardon me if I don’t believe that,” she said.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now. I’m attracted to you, Maren,” he said unemotionally. They could have been discussing the most mundane topic in the world for as much enthusiasm as was reflected in those words. “At first I sought you out because you were a convenient solution to a problem I needed solved. But I find I rather like the idea of you being where I am.”

“And what problem do you need solved?” she asked, afraid of what the answer would be.

“I’m having plastic surgery soon. Again.”

Her eyebrows went up in disbelief. Plastic surgery? He had to be freaking kidding.

“I’m not a surgeon,” she said. “I’m a general practitioner.”

He smiled in amusement. “There isn’t much I don’t already know about you, Maren, including the illicit visits from the man who is undoubtedly the father of your child, which is why I felt pressed to make my move now. And I don’t expect you to do my surgery. In my line of work, it becomes necessary to change my appearance every so often. That way I remain a step ahead of my pursuers—and there are many. The time has come for me to move on from this place and start over somewhere else. I’m starting to feel the heat, as you Americans say. Therefore I’ll be flying to Paris in a few days’ time and you’re going to accompany me and oversee my recovery.”

“Why on earth would you trust me?” she asked incredulously. “You have no reason at all to believe I wouldn’t betray you at the first opportunity.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said softly. “You see, I’m sure you value your unborn child’s life.”

She froze, her blood turning to ice. Fear trickled up her spine as she stared at his very determined expression. “What are you saying?”

“I’m proposing a bargain of sorts. You do as I want and no harm will come to you or your child. Give me any reason to doubt you and you’ll suffer. I can’t be any more clear than that.”

“You bastard,” she seethed. “What gives you the right to take over my life, keep me as a prisoner to act as your personal physician? Only a complete bastard would blackmail me with the safety of my child.”