Capturing Victory (Driven Hearts Book 3) Page 3

  “You tell me,” she snapped, arching her back in an attempt to dislodge him. He was so much bigger, all she managed to do was buck her body up into his and show him the curve of her full breasts against her T-shirt. “You’re keeping me in this dungeon for no good reason. Either let me the fuck go or let’s get on with whatever this is! Because I’m telling you right now, I won’t be working for a criminal like you.”

  He raised an eyebrow and chuckled at her audacity. She got the feeling it was a gamble with him. Either he would laugh at a person’s hastily spoken words or he would take offence and murder them swiftly and without remorse. He rolled off the bed, leaving her where she lay. He watched her as he adjusted his clothing, the amusement fading from his face.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as his eyes darkened with something she couldn’t define. “And I’m telling you, little Jaya. I will be keeping you… until I get what I want.”

  As his eyes roved over her prone body she suddenly didn’t think Ivan wanted her hacking services at all anymore. She rolled onto her side and pulled a pillow against her stomach, giving him her back. He clearly didn’t intend to let her go and she didn’t have anything else to discuss with him.

  She waited until he walked away and closed the door to her dungeon before she allowed the tears to fall.

  Chapter Four

  Jaya spent the next few days trying everything she could think of to get out of her prison. She hardly slept on the big, comfortable bed, constantly expecting her evil captor to come back and finish what he’d started when he crushed her into the mattress and held her down. She paced back and forth picturing everything he might do to her, her agitated brain playing out the worst possible scenarios.

  There was zero technology in her cell. Not a single computer, cable, TV, radio or camera. There weren’t even any light switches or plug-ins. They’d been removed and boarded up. She thought a pervert like Ivan might’ve at least installed a camera for his viewing pleasure but no such luck. If she had a camera at her disposal, she might have been able to rig something to enable an escape attempt. So either her captor actually respected her technological abilities to the point that he wasn’t even going to trust her with a single piece of modern equipment or he really was this technologically unenlightened. Jaya was on the fence; her opinion of the man could go either way.

  The only thing left in her cozy little dungeon suite, besides the bed and washroom stuff, was a bookshelf with a selection of period novels that she would never in a million years have touched. The authors included Mary Shelley, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Sir Walter Scott, Henry James and others. Either Ivan was extremely well read and enjoyed authors that were long dead or he somehow knew she was woefully undereducated in the arts. She did decide to keep a book called Tess d’Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy near her bed just in case she needed to defend herself. It was the heaviest of the selection left at her disposal, but so far no one had touched her except Ivan.

  After her initial I’m-going-to-be-raped-and-murdered-at-the-hands-of-a-madman panic began to subside, her superior intelligence started to kick in and she began looking for ways out of her cell. The bars on the windows were impenetrable and the door was solid steel with absolutely no give. It didn’t take long for her to realize that her best bet was going to be mealtimes. This seemed to be when her prison cell was at its most vulnerable. Problem number one; the giant red-headed guard who stood beside the door while a servant brought the meal in. Problem number two; the giant red-headed guard with the semi-automatic rifle attached to his side like it was his firstborn.

  There was absolutely no way Jaya was getting past him in one piece. And unfortunately the look on his face suggested he would enjoy an escape attempt since it might break up the boring five minutes it took him to supervise meal drop-off. She thought about throwing the tray in his face and running past him, but again, there were two problems with that idea. First, she was assuming the person serving her food would do nothing while she ran, and second, she was pretty sure scary red-headed guy wouldn’t be distracted by a little flying food. Oh, and third, he looked like a shoot first and ask questions later kind of guy.

  If only she could get past him. As soon as she got her hands in the security system, which would be easy from outside her cell, she would own Ivan’s little lair and bring them all down. She just needed out!

  So, she started working on plan B. Dig her way out. She grabbed a plastic knife from her food tray and hid it in the washroom. Just in case they actually checked the tray she snapped the fork into little pieces and tore up the paper plate and napkin, as though in a fit of anger, hoping to misdirect anyone who might check for the knife. The servant had merely glanced at the tray, picked it up and left.

  Jaya grabbed her plastic knife and, sitting on the counter in the washroom, began digging at the little wooden panel covering where the light switch would have been. It was somewhat difficult since the area was dark and shadowy, with little light filtering in from the barred window in her bedroom. She was gratified when it started to lift from the wall. Just as she thought, it’d been mostly screwed right into the drywall instead of a wooden two-by-four. After using the knife to lift it up, she managed to wedge her hand in the side and yank it completely off.

  “Yes!” she whispered to herself and squinted into the dark hole. “Now what do we have in here?” She reached her hand in, feeling around for wires. She sighed in disappointment when she felt nothing but empty space. They’d clearly thought to gut the entire thing.

  “Exactly what I was wonderin’,” said a voice from behind her in a deeply accented Irish drawl.

  Jaya jumped and would’ve fallen off the counter if a large hand hadn’t shot out to steady her, wrapping itself around her arm and pulling her right off her perch. She yanked her arm from the grip and steadied herself against the marble top. She swallowed hard, wetting her suddenly dry throat, and edged sideways in an attempt to get away from the towering red-haired, tattooed man, who was now filling the doorway of the washroom.

  “What do we have here?” he murmured, looking down at her. His face was completely shadowed so she couldn’t tell from his expression what his mood might be. But it couldn’t be a good thing that he’d found her digging into the wall. “Is our wee canary trying to find a way out? Gonna fly home?”

  She shook her head and kept edging until her back hit the glass wall of the shower stall. He remained in the doorway, thank god, his arms crossed over his massive chess.

  “Truth now, and maybe I won’t tell the boss what you were up to,” he said.

  She nodded quickly, immediately understanding that this man was the lesser of two evils. “I was going to see if there was some kind of wiring I could get my hands on, then trick you into coming in here and maybe zap the shit out of you, steal your gun and get out of the dungeon. Once I’m on the outside, I’m golden.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment and then he threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming off the walls of the small space. “Well, I’ll give you credit for creativity, canary,” he said wiping tears of amusement from his eyes. “But it’d take a helluva lot more than anything that wall has to put me on the floor. And even if you got this gun from me, baby, she wouldn’t work. She’s fingerprinted to me. Boss has the best in weaponry supplied for his men.”

  Jaya was surprised. That kind of hardware was extremely expensive and hard to come by. “S-sorry,” she said.

  “No you’re not,” he replied, but he didn’t sound annoyed.

  She shook her head. “Okay, I’m not,” she admitted. “Of course I’m going to try to escape the first chance I get. Wouldn’t you? Can I please see your gun?” She couldn’t believe her boldness in asking, but she was actually curious. She’d taken some weapons training in her teens and played a lot of first person shooter games. She knew guns, and more importantly, she knew sophisticated tech. This particular gun sounded unique.

  She could feel his shock rather than see it, but he pulled the weapo
n off his shoulder and held it out. He didn’t relinquish his hold so she took it in her hands, clutching it lightly, her fingertips on either end. She leaned in closer, automatically edging past him toward the light in her room. He moved a little allowing her by, his hand still firmly on the gun. She barely noticed his proximity, she was so absorbed. Instead she muttered to herself, “An assault rifle, semi-automatic of course, but nothing I’ve ever seen in simulations or pictures before.” She tipped it over. He allowed her, shifting his grip, watching her face carefully. She quickly found the fingerprint identification just along the flat surface above the trigger so it wouldn’t interfere with a security situation. “Impressive,” she breathed, then she looked up at him and said, “You’re a lefty, Irish. And the boss cares enough to have weapons made specially for you. You must be important.”

  He looked startled for a moment and then a myriad of emotions crashed across his rugged, bearded features. First anger, which had her handing the gun hastily back and stepping quickly away, and then speculative calculation as his gaze swept over her from head to toe and back again. His look wasn’t exactly sexual, but it was thorough. She felt as though he was seeing her for the first time, though he’d entered her dungeon bedroom many times in the past few days.

  “You ain’t stupid, canary,” he growled, shortly. “There’s a dress on the bed for you. Boss wants to have his evening meal with you. Get dressed and I’ll take you up.” She nodded, her eyes wide on him and the gun he slung back over his shoulder. His pale blue eyes swept her one last time. “Just a word of advice. Step carefully around Mr. Vogel. The things I tolerate are not things he will find nearly as amusin’.”

  She stared at him wondering if she’d somehow found an unlikely ally, and whispered, “I understand. What’s your name?”

  “Keane,” he growled, then added sharply, “Get changed and don’t take long.” He turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

  She turned and looked down at the bed, despair filling her. Spread out across the blankets was a beautiful gold and white-trimmed sari, golden sandals adjacent to the outfit. The entire thing set out like that, the bars on the windows, the lock on the door, her not having any kind of choice, even Keane’s warning… she felt like a slave with no idea of her ultimate fate.

  Chapter Five

  Ivan watched as Jaya approached, gliding toward him like a golden goddess. He was relieved that she’d chosen to wear the sari he’d sent down for her. It was beautiful on her, golden with lace trimming. One of her shoulders and part of her smooth, brown stomach was left bare. His own stomach clenched in response as she rounded the large pool area brightly lit by lanterns, and continued her path toward him, flanked by one of his men. As she approached he heard the soft jingle of the metal beads on her sandals and wished her sari would allow him to view her feet and ankles. So far, every part of her that he’d seen was perfection, though he’d never craved a woman built quite like Jaya. In fact, nothing about her and his reactions to her was preceded by experience.

  It wasn’t like him to care about such things as women’s apparel or an individual woman’s comfort, but there was something about this particular woman that made him care. He didn’t want her to feel discomfort. Nor did he want to visit her in her prison cell. He didn’t want to get to know the facets of her character in the confines of the stone walls he’d imposed upon her. For some reason, he wanted her to see the man rather than the ruthless arms dealer who’d kidnapped her with every intention of ending her life. Now he was on new ground. He’d never put himself out to be kind to a woman.

  “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” she demanded, eyeing him as she stopped next to him, her head barely reaching his chin. It was clear that she was frightened, but still she spoke to him in such a way. She was a brave little thing. Perhaps this was what intrigued him about her? But then, he’d met and killed braver women.

  Indeed, why was he doing this? He didn’t need to ‘date’ his captive. She was wholly under his control, he could easily fuck and dispose of her when he tired of her. He’d done much worse in his life, so the moral issue shouldn’t pose a problem. Yet, for some reason he felt compelled to wine and dine her. He was attracted to her and something about their situation made him uncomfortable. Those dark eyes of hers, both world weary and innocent, saw right through him, pierced him when no others could. They didn’t chastise him. They simply looked through him. It was as though, once she’d taken a thorough look at the Athens ball, she’d dismissed him for good, turned around and walked away. And not even kidnapping her could force her to acknowledge his presence in her life.

  He gave her an honest answer. “I don’t know yet, Jaya.” He took her arm and led her to the table across from the pool deck. Her guard melted into the shadows but remained within the vicinity. The table was lit by lanterns as well as candles in bowls filled with water and white lilies. As he seated her, he leaned down and said against the side of her head, enjoying the silky length against his cheek, “But your safest course is to follow instructions and indulge me. I’m not a man to be crossed and you’ve tried my patience beyond what I would ordinarily accept.”

  He was gratified to feel her shiver before he stepped away from her chair and made his way around the table. He wasn’t pleased at the length separating them, but he would accept the space for now. The table had been prepared to perfection at his specifications, each dish had meaning to her culture. Or the culture he believed she’d been born to. He would allow her some time to see him as more than her captor before he began pressing his suit. Now that he saw her dressed similar to the way he’d seen her in Athens, looking lovely and soft, he knew for sure he wanted her. But the thought of just taking her, raping all that loveliness, ruining it… didn’t sit well.

  A servant filled his glass with a rich, red wine and then stood stiffly at Ivan’s side tilting the bottle so he could see the label; it was a Chilean Errauriz La Cumbra Syrah. He sipped the spicy red and nodded his head before waving the man toward Jaya. She smiled nervously and held her glass out for him to fill.

  Ivan stiffened. Thus far she hadn’t once shown interest in a single member of his staff or security, yet she was smiling at the man serving their table. He watched and ruminated as she lifted the delicate crystal to her lips and took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened a little and she took a longer drink, her full bottom lip curving against the glass. His stomach clenched in response. For a man used to controlling both himself and his environment, he was finding he had a distinct loss of control around Jaya.

  “Where were you born?” he asked so suddenly that she nearly lost her hold on the glass.

  She set it down on the table and looked at him. “Why does it matter?”

  He clenched his teeth. He wasn’t used to people withholding answers from him. But he knew getting anything out of this woman wouldn’t be easy. After all, she’d spent the better part of a year evading his best attempts at finding her. He would have to resist the urge to use his usual methods of persuasion. But he wasn’t going to banter with her all night. He wanted answers and he was going to get them. “Speak, Jaya, or this meal ends in your hunger and an even smaller cage.”

  She stiffened and sent a glare down the length of the table that should have scorched him in his seat. “I was born in Mumbai,” she snapped.

  His dick perked up at her heated look and the blood flowed thicker in his veins as though their banter, their body language was all a dance that would end in his conquest over her. Perhaps this was all new to him, having patience, but he thrived in the arena of battle.

  “And where is your family?” he asked, fingering the stem of his wineglass, watching her every move with the sharpness of an apex predator. Sure enough, she flinched.

  “Dead,” she said through gritted teeth.

  The same servant who had brought their wine returned with a cart. On it were several dishes including tandoori chicken, chole bhature, butter chicken, biryani, litti and naan. Her
eyes skimmed the food and her mouth opened in appreciation, her former ire forgotten as the delicious smells rolled toward her. She needed no urging. She quickly began filling her plate when the cart stopped next to her.

  Ivan watched in amusement as she spilled a spoonful of rice on the tablecloth and ignored it in favour of grabbing another tandoori drumstick. She grabbed a handful of naan and said, “I’m done,” to the hovering servant. He smiled at her indulgently and rolled the cart toward Ivan.

  “My dad hated ethnic food,” Jaya said, shoving a big piece of potato into her mouth and chewing. “He used to order pizza all the time and wanted my mom to make hamburgers and French fries. We almost never ate this stuff.” She took another big bite and closed her eyes while she chewed and swallowed. “But I’ve missed it. This is actually really good.”

  She’d just offered him something voluntarily and the knowledge of her willing disclosure felt somehow valuable. He wanted more, but he didn’t know how to get it out of her. Watching her eat, watching her speak without rancor or fear in her voice was… stunning. He now knew exactly why he was doing this. So he could have moments like this; could have her voluntary participation in whatever it was he wanted from her. Without tearing his eyes from her, Ivan dished up his own plate.

  “What happened to them?” he asked.

  Her eyes snapped open and the peaceful moment she had been enjoying melted away. Ivan felt the man standing next to him stiffen. The cart rattled. He could feel his annoyance begin to rise. The other man should not have eyes, let alone feelings, for Jaya.