The Blackmailed Bride. Kim Lawrence

but from his partner.

      ‘As I was saying,’ she began doggedly, ‘I didn’t steal the card. It’s mine. I brought it along in case the door was…’ She stopped abruptly, her eyes growing round in dismay as she bit back the incriminating explanation.

      ‘Locked…?’ The fascinating network of fine lines around his cerulean eyes deepened.

      Kate felt her guilty blush deepen.

      ‘What a resourceful woman you are…. You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.’

      ‘Why should I? You haven’t told me why you’re here and I’m pretty sure it’s not by invitation,’ she murmured stroppily.

      ‘Hush!’ he admonished, cutting her off with abrupt urgency before turning to his companion. ‘Serge, did you hear that?’

      The hot flare of anticipation Kate glimpsed in his blue eyes suggested to her that she was dealing with an adrenaline junkie, the type who got high on danger, she speculated. The sort that took risks and got a kick out of doing so. She’d often noted these two qualities, allied with a callous disregard for the law, in some of her clients—men who, had they channelled their talents into less anti-social endeavours, would probably have made very successful businessmen, or even for that matter lawyers like herself.

      The other man nodded and replied softly. ‘It could be Gonzalez?’

      The light was suddenly doused and Kate’s hopeful ears were rewarded by the sound of footsteps on the paved area outside the window. She didn’t care who it was, it was the chance she’d been waiting for. She opened her mouth to cry for help.

      Before she had a chance to raise the alarm, a large hand clamped down hard over her parted lips whilst another twisted her arm behind her back. ‘You want to warn your lover?’ a cold, hateful voice rasped mockingly in her ear, Kate tried to turn her head, hating his contempt, hating the sensation of his warm breath on her neck, and fearing the confusing ripples of sensation it created. ‘I don’t think so…’

      Biting his hand as hard as she could was not the most subtle response, but Kate was desperate by this point.

      He didn’t cry out, even though she felt the salty tang of blood on her tongue, but his grip did slacken—only slightly, but it was the moment Kate had been tensely waiting for. It was enough to allow her to break free. With a determined, sinuous wriggle, she twisted away from him and even before she was upright began to run. Head down, she hit the floor, running like a sprinter ducking desperately for the winning line.