Captive At Her Enemy's Command. Heidi Rice

      “Because the muggers stole her passport.”

      The realization that Caine’s defection was about pragmatism, rather than a newfound respect for her, dampened Katie’s warm glow a little.

      She shook off the prickle of disappointment. She didn’t care what Caine’s motives were, he’d just provided her with the perfect get-out clause—which if she hadn’t been so exhausted she would have figured out herself.

      “That’s true, Dario,” she chipped in. “I’m stuck here until I can get a new one.” And replace everything else she’d lost, which would take her a month at least. Possibly more.

      “Can you organize a new passport, Jared?” Dario said, as if she hadn’t spoken.

      “Sure.”

      “How long will it take?” Dario asked.

      “Hey, wait a minute, I can...” Katie tried to interrupt but the men were already on a testosterone roll.

      “I’ll find out. I’ll get my PA to contact the British consulate in Naples. My guess is, it’ll be quicker than trying to get her a US one.”

      Katie’s mind reeled. How did Jared Caine know she had dual nationality? She’d spent the years until her mother’s death in a British boarding school, and her accent had always been a mid-Atlantic hybrid—her upbringing a mix of two cultures divided by a common language. But since her late teens she’d always thought of herself as more American than British, unlike Megan. How exactly was this any of Jared Caine’s business, though?

      “You are in Capri for the next few days, yes?” Dario asked.

      “Yeah.”

      “Then she must stay with you, until the passport is ready. And you can bring her home? Is that okay?”

      What the...?

      Katie’s tired mind stalled. For several precious seconds she was so shocked by Dario’s high-handed assumption, no sound would come out of her mouth.

      Caine paused, his jaw hardening to granite again. And Katie felt the horror and humiliation that had taken her by the throat begin to ease.

      Don’t freak out. No way will Caine agree to this.

      Dario was being a jerk, but his heart was in the right place. Dario’s I’m-the-boss-of-you gene had always been hyperactive, or he never would have whisked Meg off to Isadora after the assault and insisted on marrying her when he’d found out she was pregnant. And, if anything, since he had become a dad Dario’s take-charge gene had gone into overdrive because there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his children or his wife. And he’d always considered Katie part of that equation, even before he’d married Megan. Which was exactly how she’d ended up with Caine as a minder five years ago.

      But Dario didn’t know what had happened between her and his best friend while he and Megan had been in Isadora. She had certainly never told either Megan or him about that humiliating kiss. And she was sure Caine hadn’t said anything to Dario, either, or Megan would have mentioned it.

      The men were as close as brothers, but she’d never been able to get out of Megan what their history was. All she knew was that Caine seemed to owe Dario some kind of debt. But, whatever the debt was, it couldn’t possibly be enough to make him agree to be her babysitter again.

      “Of course it’s not a problem.” Caine’s reply shocked Katie into silence again. “She can come to Capri with me until I fly back in four days—I’ll make sure she has a passport by then.”

      “Great,” Dario said. “That’s settled.”

      “Are you completely mad?” Katie blurted out at the same time, finally relocating her voice.

      “Katie?” Dario asked, obviously confused. “What is the matter?”

      “I’ve got this, Dario. Gotta sign off—we’re coming to a tunnel. Speak soon.” Jared fired a glare at her as he disconnected the call with no tunnel in sight.

      Adrenaline surged through her veins, her outrage overtaking her exhaustion. “Why did you tell him that?” she yelped. “This is none of your business.”

      “It is now,” he said, the bunched muscle in his jaw working overtime. He didn’t look any happier at the prospect than she did.

      She struggled to calm her breathing before her head exploded.

      “This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman,” she said, attempting to appeal to his common sense before she gave herself an aneurysm. Fighting fire with fire didn’t work with Caine. She’d tried that once before when she’d been a teenager and it had been a disaster. “Which means I decide what I do. Not you. Or Dario. And I have no intention of going to Capri, with or without you. So you need to call him back and tell him.”

      She’d rather gouge out her own eyeballs than go there during some huge PR event. Although the paparazzi and the press had probably forgotten all about her, she was not about to tempt fate. And going with Caine was out of the question. They didn’t like each other and there was the inappropriate hum to consider.

      And, on top of all that, Capri was the one place in Europe she had never wanted to go—because her mother was buried somewhere on that island, after the car she’d been in with one of her many lovers had plunged off a cliff. Katie had been to Capri once before, as an eight-year-old, and the hazy memory of standing over a grave in the misty rain, her sister’s arm heavy on her shoulders and the caustic flash of camera bulbs blinding them both, was a blur of misery, emptiness and fear which she did not want to revisit.

      The hollow pain in her stomach sunk into the floor of Caine’s convertible.

      This trip was about getting away from her mother’s legacy—and the thoughtlessness Katie had inherited that could wreck lives if she didn’t get a handle on it—not following in the woman’s footsteps.

      “I know you’re a grown woman,” he said, the growled acknowledgment setting off a new hum that made no sense at all, so she ignored it. “But you’re a grown woman with no money, no clothes, no means of transportation and no ID, which means you’re all out of options. You can’t even collect the money Megan’s planning to wire you.”

      Tears of frustration stung the back of her eyes at his brutal assessment, the unfairness of the situation making her want to weep.

      “Then lend me some money. I’ll pay you back, I swear.” She could hear the pathetic plea in her voice and hated herself for it. But what other choice did she have? He was right. She couldn’t survive with nothing. But why should everything she’d worked so hard to achieve in the last few months be ruined simply because she’d had the misfortune to get mugged?

      “Admit it, you don’t want to babysit me anymore than I want to be babysat,” she continued. “If you could give me enough to sort myself out for a few days, I can contact Dario and explain everything. There’s no reason for you to even be involved.”

      He didn’t say anything, his jaw still rigid. She thought she might have made progress. But, when he glanced her way, his gaze locked on her forehead and he swore.

      She gripped the dash as the car swerved to the side of the road and stopped.

      Her back thudded against the car door and she brushed the hair that had been lifted by the breeze back over her forehead. But when he took her elbow and tugged her toward him, she knew it was too late.

      “Hold still,” he said. He brushed a fingertip over her forehead to lift her hair out the way, and studied the bruise for what felt like several hours.

      Temper and something inscrutable swirled in the deep-blue depths before he held up three fingers. “How many?”

      “Three.”

      Folding two down, he tracked his index finger past her nose and back again. “Follow it.”

      She