Read Online Dangerous Passion by Lisa Marie Rice - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Marie Rice
Tags: Contemporary
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money buying lots of privacy.
With a ping, they arrived at wherever it was they were going. The elevator doors opened with the quietest of whoosh es. In front of them, across a very large hall, was a door worthy of the gate of a fortress. Twelve feet high at least, made of shiny steel.
The men around her filed out, fanning out into a security perimeter, but Grace stood still, eyes fixed on the ground, trying to control her trembling. Drake stood beside her, unmoving.
“Boss…” one of the men said. The men were obviously quivering with eagerness to get him behind that huge steel door.
“Go now, I’m fine,” Drake said quietly. They didn’t look happy, but they did it. They were used to obeying this man.
Drake pushed a button and the doors of the elevator closed again.
Grace stepped back and looked him full in the face. He winced a little at what he saw on hers.
“You’re frightened.” The deep voice was soft. He lifted a large, blood-stained hand to her cheek. His touch was soft, though she could feel the calluses on his fingertips. “I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about everything. More than I have words for. You’ve become involved in…a business dispute through no fault of your own. You’ve lost a friend and you’re hurt. I cannot tell you how much I regret this. But it’s done. And now you need to be kept safe from my enemies and you need medical care. All of this exists and is waiting for you behind that door you saw.”
She stared at him numbly. Though his touch had been fleeting, she still felt the warmth along her cheek.
For all she knew, this was a serial killer just waiting to entice her into his fortress. Certainly he had dealings with criminals. It was entirely possible he was a criminal himself. But the regret in his voice sounded sincere. And he wasn’t pushing her out of the elevator and into whatever was behind that door. Something in his stance told her that he would be willing to stay here forever, dripping blood on the floor, until she left the elevator of her own free will.
He swayed slightly, then brought himself back upright. The muscles in his jaw worked. There was a soft plop and when Grace looked down, another drop of bright red blood joined the small puddle on the floor.
Oh my God. He was badly wounded, he’d lost a lot of blood. He was barely standing, his forehead was beaded with sweat. And yet here he was, standing with her until she took a decision, patiently waiting for her.
Grace wasn’t too good with people, but like many introverts, she was an observer. What she saw before her was patience and regret with an overlay of pain and fatigue. No cruelty or craziness.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s go in.”
Three
Drake kept himself upright by sheer willpower. That, and searing, devastating guilt that he’d ruined the life of this beautiful woman. It wasn’t a coincidence that his attackers had come while he was out in the alley watching her in the gallery and that they used her to get to him. He knew who they were, too. Undoubtedly, Dmitri Rutskoi was behind this.
Rutskoi had come prancing into his office expecting to be made Drake’s lieutenant and hadn’t taken it well when Drake had thrown him out. Drake knew Rutskoi. He was a true soldier. If he’d made it his mission to go after Drake, he wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead. And he’d undoubtedly partnered up with Drake’s direct competitor in the Americas, Enrique Cordero. Drake had recognized two of Cordero’s goons.
Somehow Rutskoi knew about Grace, which meant that Rutskoi and Cordero were willing to go through her to get to him.
The thought terrified him. It was worse than the wound in his shoulder. He’d been shot before and he knew this was nasty but not serious. A few days of rest and he’d be fine. But the thought of Grace falling into the hands of his enemies, of being maimed or tortured or killed because of him—it drove him crazy.
It had taken all his willpower to
With a ping, they arrived at wherever it was they were going. The elevator doors opened with the quietest of whoosh es. In front of them, across a very large hall, was a door worthy of the gate of a fortress. Twelve feet high at least, made of shiny steel.
The men around her filed out, fanning out into a security perimeter, but Grace stood still, eyes fixed on the ground, trying to control her trembling. Drake stood beside her, unmoving.
“Boss…” one of the men said. The men were obviously quivering with eagerness to get him behind that huge steel door.
“Go now, I’m fine,” Drake said quietly. They didn’t look happy, but they did it. They were used to obeying this man.
Drake pushed a button and the doors of the elevator closed again.
Grace stepped back and looked him full in the face. He winced a little at what he saw on hers.
“You’re frightened.” The deep voice was soft. He lifted a large, blood-stained hand to her cheek. His touch was soft, though she could feel the calluses on his fingertips. “I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about everything. More than I have words for. You’ve become involved in…a business dispute through no fault of your own. You’ve lost a friend and you’re hurt. I cannot tell you how much I regret this. But it’s done. And now you need to be kept safe from my enemies and you need medical care. All of this exists and is waiting for you behind that door you saw.”
She stared at him numbly. Though his touch had been fleeting, she still felt the warmth along her cheek.
For all she knew, this was a serial killer just waiting to entice her into his fortress. Certainly he had dealings with criminals. It was entirely possible he was a criminal himself. But the regret in his voice sounded sincere. And he wasn’t pushing her out of the elevator and into whatever was behind that door. Something in his stance told her that he would be willing to stay here forever, dripping blood on the floor, until she left the elevator of her own free will.
He swayed slightly, then brought himself back upright. The muscles in his jaw worked. There was a soft plop and when Grace looked down, another drop of bright red blood joined the small puddle on the floor.
Oh my God. He was badly wounded, he’d lost a lot of blood. He was barely standing, his forehead was beaded with sweat. And yet here he was, standing with her until she took a decision, patiently waiting for her.
Grace wasn’t too good with people, but like many introverts, she was an observer. What she saw before her was patience and regret with an overlay of pain and fatigue. No cruelty or craziness.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s go in.”
Three
Drake kept himself upright by sheer willpower. That, and searing, devastating guilt that he’d ruined the life of this beautiful woman. It wasn’t a coincidence that his attackers had come while he was out in the alley watching her in the gallery and that they used her to get to him. He knew who they were, too. Undoubtedly, Dmitri Rutskoi was behind this.
Rutskoi had come prancing into his office expecting to be made Drake’s lieutenant and hadn’t taken it well when Drake had thrown him out. Drake knew Rutskoi. He was a true soldier. If he’d made it his mission to go after Drake, he wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead. And he’d undoubtedly partnered up with Drake’s direct competitor in the Americas, Enrique Cordero. Drake had recognized two of Cordero’s goons.
Somehow Rutskoi knew about Grace, which meant that Rutskoi and Cordero were willing to go through her to get to him.
The thought terrified him. It was worse than the wound in his shoulder. He’d been shot before and he knew this was nasty but not serious. A few days of rest and he’d be fine. But the thought of Grace falling into the hands of his enemies, of being maimed or tortured or killed because of him—it drove him crazy.
It had taken all his willpower to
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