The gleam in his eyes sent a cold chill down her spine. His attempt at a smile gave her the willies. It wasn't full-toothed or happy. It twisted more like a sinister grin, speaking volumes of the pain he knew how to inflict rather than easing her nerves and making her comfortable. Gathering as much saliva as possible, she managed to speak on a grated whisper.

"Why am I here?” Uncontrollable shivers set in, causing her to rub her arms against the chill.

"You are cold.” He grabbed her elbow and it was all she could do not to pull away. “Let me show you to your room."

Refusing to move at his attempt to guide her, she repeated, “Why am I here?"

His eyes narrowed, but she maintained a slim grasp on her fear, keeping it buried beneath the surface. After several seconds of silence and staring at her as if scrutinizing her intelligence, he spoke.

"You are a mere pawn in a much bigger game."

"You're after my father,” she stated bluntly, not wavering from his intimidating glare.

"Ah… Intelligent as you are beautiful.” He released her arm, but continued to walk as if they were having a casual conversation. She followed. “Your father has something my employer wants."

"What makes you think that?"

"Don't play coy with me, Miss Summers. Your father created a missile guidance system which is worth far more than the United States government has given him."

"My father is a patriot.” She stiffened. “He believes in his country."

"Do you? Are you willing to die if he refuses to exchange the information for your life?"

"I trust my father."

"Then for your sake,"-he sneered as he stopped and opened the door on the far right side of the room-"let us hope he makes the right choice."

Allie opened her mouth to speak, but closed it instead.

"Your room, Miss Summers. You will find a bathroom complete with toiletries. Also, a change of clothes can be found laid out for you on the bed.” The touch of his hand down the back of her gown to her waist caused her to flinch. “Of course, it is nothing to match the finest silk that you wear. Too bad the rain and your attempted escape ruined it. Do not try that again. It would be a shame to preempt your life before its time. There are armed guards surrounding the building. While you refresh, I shall see to your nourishment."

The moment the door closed, the distinct sound of the lock clicked. There was no getting out that way. She scurried to the window, glanced from side to side, but saw nothing. It too was locked from the outside. Caged like a lab rat. Dried crusted mud made her itch. Coldness settled deep into her flesh making her shake from head to toe. She needed to think, but at this rate hypothermia would probably set in before she managed to engage her brain.

Allie walked into the bathroom, noting there was no door. It contained the basic needs, a shower surrounded by a wooden stall, a toilet, and a sink. Nothing fancy. Simple bar soap sat on the sink. A toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, a towel, a white washcloth, and a roll of toilet paper rounded out the amenities of this no-star establishment. She snorted at her attempt at humor. She doubted this place existed on any of the Internet vacation booking sites. When she started the shower, she saw no shampoo so she grabbed the bar of soap from the sink.

Wiggling out of her single stiletto, she frowned. They were the best leather shoes she'd ever owned. As quickly as she could, she peeled the dress and her undergarments from her skin. She opened the creaky wooden door and stepped into the shower. Uncomfortable with the inability to lock the bathroom for privacy, she quickly scrubbed the mud from her hair and body. No way did she intend to be caught naked if that midget of a maniac decided to pay another visit before she dressed. Every muscle ached, causing her to linger longer than she should have in the heated water. Tears ran down her cheeks.

God, she prayed Father was all right. From the sound of it, he wasn't a captive. Only she was a prisoner. That thought released a smidgeon of the knot in her stomach. Hopefully, his sister, Myra, would remain with him until Allie returned. If she returned. She wiped the tears from her eyes and shut off the water. Tears equaled weakness and she refused to yield to that bodily function again. Not until she was home.

She stepped from the shower, dried, then wrapped in the towel. She ran the comb through her hair, brushed her teeth, then stilled. Did she hear something? A quick turn of the knob and the water flow to the sink stopped. Straining, she heard nothing. She turned, walked into the bedroom and froze.

A man clad from head to toe in American military camouflage and heavily armed stood staring at her. Before she could speak, he moved lightning fast. A hand covered her mouth while the other tugged her close from behind.

"Shush.” His warm breath tickled her ear. But his deep, southern drawl touched her in other places making her shiver as he continued to whisper. “I'm Staff Sergeant Mitch Sinclair with the Marines, ma'am, and we're here to take you home."

Allie bit his hand lightly, causing him to jerk it free from her mouth. She twisted in his grip, grappling for the towel that had loosened, leveled her gaze on his, and whispered on a hurried breath, “I can see that. Give me a second to dress and I'm out that window behind you."

Without giving him a chance, she shrugged from his grip, dropped the towel and lunged for the clothes on the bed. She tugged on the sweatshirt and sweatpants without bothering with the undergarments. Grabbing the socks, she noticed there were no shoes, so she tossed them back on the bed.

Mitch's jaw dropped. The most perfectly rounded bottom stood within arm's length and he couldn't do a thing about it. He spun on his heels, weapon drawn and guarded the door while she dressed. Think mission. Think bad guys. Think Kwan.

That did it. Pure heat sizzled up his spine to curl in his gut. Images of some of the grisly innocent deaths inflicted by that man's hand flashed inside his head, chilling the unwanted sensation of desire. But not for long. She touched his shoulder and he turned to face her. Deep, brown eyes framed by wet golden hair melted his soul.

"No shoes,” she whispered.

"It'll have to do. Let's get you out of here first."

Mitch cautiously peeked through the open window. With a nod, Sergeant Lou Randle appeared on the other side. He helped the hostage through the window, then followed. As his feet touched ground, he noted the undergarments still lay on the bed. Knowing she wore nothing under those sweats sent a spike of need straight to his loins. What was wrong with him?

A knock on the door jarred him into combat stance as he backed away from the building. The moment they hit the woods, Kwan Sung-hee discovered he no longer held Allie Summers captive.

"Find her. Kill her,” echoed behind them in heated Korean.

Mitch had no intention of allowing that to happen.