Rescued By The Marine. Julie MillerЧитать онлайн книгу.
pinning her there with his hips and hands. His chiseled cheekbones were flushed with exertion, his perfect white teeth clenched as he panted in her face. “I thought you were an adult. Running away is what a child does. You owe it to me to listen.”
“I owe you?” His fingers clamped down tightly enough to bruise her skin when she shoved at his chest. “Let go of me.”
“Clear the room,” he ordered the catering staff. When they were too stunned by the argument to budge, he shoved a tray of hors d’oeuvres onto the floor. “Get out!”
Samantha wished she could leave with them as the door swung shut on their backsides. Dishes and pans rattled on the steel table as she squirmed in Kyle’s grasp. “You need to let me go.”
He released her arms to grab either side of her face, pulling at the pins that held her long hair in place and pinching her scalp, forcing her to look up at him. “You and I are getting married. We have an agreement. Your family likes me.”
“Some more than others, apparently.”
“Don’t get snarky with me. Yes, I screwed up. You have to forgive me.”
“Says who?”
“You think there aren’t things I would change about you?” he challenged.
How was this her fault? She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes and fought through her emotions to find the words she needed to say. “I’m not the one who’s cheating.”
“I have a weakness. Okay?”
“No. It’s not okay. You didn’t even pick out the ring yourself. You couldn’t spend that much time on me?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I can see that.”
“With work! I was a little strapped for cash and couldn’t afford the ring I wanted to get you, so Joyce helped me out.” He was the son of a millionaire and had a good job with the Midas Group. How could he possibly be short of money? Before she could voice the accusation, Kyle touched his sweaty forehead to hers in a supposedly tender gesture, and Samantha wondered how she’d ever found him handsome or charming. “I am committed to us. You know I’m good for you. I help others see beyond the professor and the glasses. We make a good team.”
What about needing her? Or wanting her? Or any other stupid compliment that could make her believe he was ever in love with her? The urge to cry disappeared. She let his lips brush against hers, but the moment he thought he was winning her back and his hold on her eased, Samantha twisted from his grasp.
He paused long enough to curse before pursuing her again. “This is a misunderstanding. You need to clue in to how the real world works. I have needs.”
She whirled around. “You need to keep your pants zipped around other women. If you wanted to get laid, you should have asked me. It’s not like I haven’t wanted you to...teach me more.”
The creep actually smiled. He cupped his fingers against her cheek. “Is that what this is about? Baby, you’re too good for a quickie.”
She slapped his hand away. “But my sister’s not?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.
“Taylor’s young and fun. But she means nothing to me. You mean everything.”
“Liar. How many others have there been?”
At least he had the good grace to look guilty. For a split second. Then he was reaching for her again. “Look. Truth. You’re learning. Eventually the sex will be great between us, but until you get some confidence—”
She slapped his hand away. “A relationship isn’t just about sex. It’s about trust and caring and respect. You have no clue—”
When she felt his hand on her arm again, Samantha reached for the first weapon she could find, a heavy skillet resting on the edge of the metal table. She swung around, whacking him in the shoulder. He cursed, grabbing his bruised arm. She knew a moment of guilt, sensing she’d gone too far.
“You are not dumping me.” When his eyes narrowed in rage instead of pain, her brain took over.
She had a feeling that escape wasn’t just an emotional need at that moment. Shoving the pan into his gut, she forced Kyle back a step. She ordered him to open the refrigerator door. “Get in there. Get in or I swear I’ll run straight to my father and tell him you were banging Taylor tonight instead of earning your spot as Midas’s newest vice president.”
Kyle raised his hands and moved toward her. “You don’t want to upset your father tonight...”
“Get in!”
If she’d had any doubts that she was nothing more than a means to an end for Kyle, his willingness to step inside the cooler in exchange for her silence confirmed the truth. As disgusted with herself for being taken in by his promises as she was with the man himself, Samantha closed the refrigerator door and slipped the pin into the lock.
Instead of cursing her or shouting her name, Kyle pulled his cell phone from a pocket and held it up to the window beside his gloating face for her to see.
“How did you...?” Had he broken out through their room? Taken the time to retrieve his phone? Did he have a second cell? Whom was he calling?
Samantha dropped the skillet and opened the back door.
“This is Grazer. I need your help.” With the rain beating down on the loading area’s metal canopy, she lost the rest of the conversation until he started shouting. “I mean right now! She’s taking off. Running out the back door. This is plan B!”
Whoever Kyle’s ally was, she wasn’t waiting for his help to arrive. Slightly breathless with the exertion of fending off Kyle, she scanned the row of employee cars on the other side of the driveway for her silver BMW. The rain fell in sheets on either side of the canopy, blackening the night sky and shrinking her world to the lights beneath the canopy and parked vehicles ahead of her. Her steps stuttered to a halt beside the caterer’s van. Where was Brandon? Surely, he’d had time to fetch her car from the lot in front of the lodge to drive back here. “Where are you?”
Although she was out of the elements, the moisture in the air dotted her skin. She shivered with a chill that was part Wyoming springtime and part apprehension. Samantha took out her own phone and pulled up Brandon’s number. Should she call him? Give him a few more seconds?
A powerful engine revved nearby. Too big to be her car. Tires screeched against the wet pavement somewhere out in the darkness. Two headlamps came on, their bright lights crystallizing every raindrop, blinding her. Shielding her eyes, Samantha drew back to her side of the driveway so she wouldn’t be run over.
Just as she punched in her bodyguard’s number to get her out of this madhouse, a black van erupted from the wall of rain and skidded to a stop only feet away, sending a wave of dirty water splashing over her feet. “Hey!”
The side door opened and two men in dark camouflage gear and ski masks jumped out. One was carrying what looked like a machine gun.
Samantha screamed.
“Shut her up!” a growly voice ordered.
She spun around and slammed into a third man. Where had he come from? Strong arms snugged around her like a vise, knocking the phone from her hand. “Let go of me!”
“Get that phone!” someone shouted.
Someone tore her purse off her shoulder. She kicked. Clawed. Twisted. “Brandon! Help! Help me! Ky—!”
A gloved hand slapped an oily cloth over her mouth and nose, forcing her to breathe in some nasty fumes, making her dizzy. Rough hands lifted her off her feet. Her knee cracked against the running board of the van before she was shoved inside. “Help me,” she wheezed. The hands let go and she rolled across the floor of the van, slamming into the opposite side. “What’s happening? Who are you?”