He fingered the jacket zipper and ripped downward, slipping his hand inside and under the pile of shirts. He unclipped the front of her bra.

Zeroing in on her sweet breast.

“Ohhh,” she groaned in pleasure. She turned to her right, giving him better access he made good use of by cupping the soft mound. He brushed his thumb across her beaded nipple.

She made a high sound of want that pressed him for more.

He leaned her back across his free arm, exposing the curve of her beautiful neck. Burrowing his face between the jacket and her neck, he kissed his way down the curve.

Her breathing hitched. She rubbed her hips against his stretched-so-full-he-ached erection. He sucked in hard, wanting to free the surge of heat dammed up inside, waiting to explode.

He wanted all of her. Naked and ready.

Not out here on dirt and rocks.

Back at the cabin… where something waited on him. Something important. He lifted his head from kissing her, forcing his mind back on task with brutal strength.

Joe’s decision. Probably less than an hour to go.

Shit. How had he let this happen? He had better control than this.

Operative word there appeared to be “had.”

He eased his hand away from Abbie’s breast and pulled her shirts down to cover her breasts as he lifted her up until she stood on her feet.

She stared at him through glazed eyes as though she still spun with the world and he lagged behind, falling out of orbit.

“We’ve got to get back to the cabin.” Where he still had to convince her to tell him everything she knew.

She blinked, glanced down between them to where his hands no longer held her. When she looked back up, the fire in her eyes had nothing to do with lust. “What was that all about?”

Stupid decision-making, thanks to letting the wrong head take over. “Just a kiss, Abbie.”

“Why did you kiss me?” Frustration burred her voice.

Toying with her hadn’t been his intention, any more than torturing himself in the process. “We’ve got more important things to talk about than kissing. I need you to tell me about your conversation with Gwen.”

“You kiss me like that and act like it was just another kiss?” She could freeze a hot coal with the look she was giving him now that said he was every bit the bastard she’d thought. “I am sick to death of you jerking me around, doing whatever you want-”

He cupped her face between his hands, kissing her silent again. She clutched his shirt in two fists, pushing… then pulling. Her lips melted against his.

Damn, she was something, but if he kept this up he’d get them both killed. He lifted his head away.

“Why’d you do that again?” she sputtered, mad as a dunked cat. She shoved away from him.

“Listen to me.” He latched on to each side of her jacket and pulled her back to him, close enough to see each fine hair in her eyebrows when he leaned his head down. “I kissed you because I wanted to, just like I wanted to six years ago and didn’t get to do enough of. But if I did everything I wanted, you’d be naked right now and we’d be out here for hours.”

That quieted her to the point where she was listening.

“I checked on your mother early this morning while you slept and left word at the nurse’s desk that you were out of town, working on locating additional medical care so your sisters wouldn’t worry. Your mother’s condition is stable. Her doctor hasn’t checked in, but doctors tend to work on their own schedule. Okay?” When she nodded, he continued. “I can’t help your mother unless you help me, and that means trusting me. If I don’t make a phone call in the next-” He glanced over at his watch. “-forty-three minutes I’ll have to find a safe place for you. I don’t want to do that. I’d rather keep you where I can protect you myself.”

She listened intently, processing what he said, then pushed her hands up to each side of his face. Her touch was like sunshine on his cheeks after a long cold night. “Why? What happens in forty-three minutes?”

When he hesitated to answer she said, “If you want trust, you’re going to have to give it in return.”

Hunter had heard those same words from Eliot the first time they’d climbed together. Abbie deserved to know something.

“I should have turned you over to my people last night instead of bringing you to my safe house,” he explained. “They’re looking for you. I don’t think they’ve figured out that you’re with me and they don’t know where this is, but that won’t stop them from finding this house or us. If I don’t call in time with a plan for me to enter Kore to retrieve data files, they’ll send a team after me.”

“A team? To like… bring you in?”

He didn’t care for worrying her this way, but she had to know what was at stake since her life was at risk, too. “Not alive.”

The rosy shade in her cheeks faded. “Oh, God. Okay, I can tell you how to access the data, but I want your promise I can get the information on what they did to my mother.”

She only wanted information. Done. “Fair enough. I have a plan for getting inside, but I have to find out how to access the data files. Once I break into the files, I’ll get you all the information I can find on your mother.”

Abbie’s eyes sparked, anxious. “Deal. It’s a complicated system that requires something important to unlock the system.”

“What’s that?”

“Me.”

As promotions went, this one had all the potential of being a life-or-death decision. Literally.

Linette stood at attention, next to the brass Remington sculpture on a marble pedestal in Fra Vestavia’s Miami office that looked out over Brickell Avenue. The meeting would start as soon as the two male Fratelli lieutenants arrived in a few minutes at 11:00 A.M. Not 11:01.

Vestavia sat behind his polished desk toiling over a document lying on the immaculate surface. A slim computer monitor that had risen from the surface of the desk in a space-age design faced his left side.

Silence clung with an unnatural patience, more at home in this room than the sound of voices.

Her arms hung loose at her sides, rigid fingers pointing down at the deep-green carpet that contrasted with her rose-colored pumps and matching pantsuit. Navy blue or black would have been a more suitable color for the crisp linen outfit, but Vestavia had dictated office attire guidelines when he’d brought her into his personal detail nine months ago. He expected the women in his offices to dress in professional designs but with a South Florida look, thus the cheerful suit color.

She’d followed his instructions to the letter and shown the appropriate humble appreciation when he allowed her to include some pants in her new wardrobe.

The sixty-eight-year-old Fra she’d been handed to twelve years ago on her birthday had given her a closet full of clothes. He’d smiled magnanimously and told her it wasn’t every day a girl turned sweet sixteen.

After that, he ordered her to wear only dresses… whenever he allowed her to wear anything.

Her chest hitched with a quick intake of air at the chilling memory. The stiff pants material crackled when her fingers shook against her leg.

He’d been dead almost two years and she still clawed her sheets when she slept, trying to get away from his ghost.

Vestavia glanced up from the document. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes questioned the rustling noise she’d made.

She squeezed the hideous memory out of her mind and gave him a timid smile. “Thought I was going to sneeze. My apologies for disturbing you.”

“No problem.” His face relaxed, eyes returning to his document.

She’d prayed for death every day until that old bastard had a heart attack. For the first time since this nightmare began, she saw a tiny light of hope flickering at the end of a tunnel lined with years of despair.