Forbidden Captor. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ has breached the perimeter today.”

      A chorus of ‘Yes, sir’ and the scramble of feet and chairs left Tasiya standing alone at the center of the room.

      “And you—” She flinched when Boone Fowler pointed straight at her, yanking her from anonymity into the spotlight. “Bring me coffee in my office. Black. And plenty of it.”

      “Yes, sir.” She needed no excuse to linger. Propping the loaded tub on her hip, she turned and hurried out to the kitchen where she dumped out the dregs and started a fresh pot. But she could still hear Fowler talking to Marcus Smith.

      “I need to know if any of the prisoners have made contact with anyone on the outside.”

      “Impossible, sir. The bounty hunters aren’t even allowed contact with each other.”

      “Good. Now here’s what I want you to do.”

      Apparently, the two men had left the room. Tasiya could hear nothing now but the silence of just how alone she was.

      She glanced quickly at her watch. If she hurried, by the time the coffee was done brewing she could make her call to Dimitri about the executions and Prince Nikolai’s speech, along with what she’d gathered about Boone Fowler escaping from prison and orchestrating some sort of terrorist attack in Montana. Hearing her father’s voice would replenish her strength and give her the courage to venture into Fowler’s office and face the man one on one.

      Fifteen minutes later, Tasiya had to bite the inside of her lips to keep her nerves from screaming out as she carried a tray into Boone Fowler’s upstairs office.

      Dimitri had denied her the chance to speak to her father. Whether the excuse that Anton was asleep was the truth or a lie hardly mattered. She’d been denied the one thing that could sustain her through this hellish sentence of servitude. Now she was left to wonder and worry if her father was all right. Had Dimitri’s men harmed him? Was he locked up the way those poor prisoners here on Devil’s Fork Island were?

      Dimitri’s compliment on her ability to ferret out detailed information had done nothing to boost her morale. And she couldn’t very well tell him how Marcus’s unwanted advances angered her or how Boone Fowler’s temper frightened her. If Dimitri learned that his prize mistress had been soiled in any way, he might take his disappointment out on her father.

      So Tasiya’s goal was to slip into Fowler’s office, set the tray on his desk and disappear just as quickly as she came in.

      But this just wasn’t her night.

      Fowler must have seen her reflection in the glass as he leaned against his office window and gazed out into the moonlit sky. “Pour for me.”

      Tasiya hesitated for a moment before setting the tray down next to a wrinkled sheet of paper that looked as if it had been crushed into a tight ball, then spread out flat and smoothed back into shape. She could do this. She’d fixed a full meal for thirty men and served them in two shifts without a mishap until Marcus Smith got her in his sights. Boone Fowler didn’t care about such things, certainly not with her.

      Drying her nervous palms on the legs of her jeans, Tasiya asked. “You said black?”

      “Yes.”

      She picked up the mug and the steaming pot. As she poured, her gaze strayed to the words on the page that had been discarded, then reclaimed. It looked like some sort of press release. The wire he’d mentioned to Ike? Is this what had Fowler so upset?

      “Cameron Murphy released from Montana hospital. Bounty hunter expected to make full, if lengthy, recovery. Timing critical.”

      Bounty hunter? Like Bryce Martin and the other three prisoners she’d heard the militiamen talking about?

      Who was Cameron Murphy? The timing for what?

      “Can you read that?”

      Tasiya gasped, startled by Boone Fowler’s voice behind her. She quickly set down the coffeepot and gripped the mug with both hands before she spilled something. But the warmth that seeped into her fingers couldn’t dissipate the chill of being caught poking her nose in where it wasn’t welcome.

      She uttered the first lie she could think of. “It helps my English to read.”

      “You didn’t answer my question.” He breathed his suspicion against the back of her neck.

      The coffee in the mug splashed up the sides as she started to shake. His brand of intimidation was even more frightening than Marcus’s ranting threats. “I can read the words, but they do not all make sense.”

      She had to get out of here. She spun toward him. “Here’s your coff—”

      But he was already stepping around her. “Maybe if you stuck to your own—”

      Her hands smacked against his chest. The coffee sloshed over her fingers, scalding them. Her grip popped open and the mug crashed to the floor, splintering on contact. The hot liquid splashed Fowler’s jeans and spilled over his boots.

      Tasiya gaped at the spreading stain, soaking into suede and denim. “I’m sorry. I’ll get another cup. A towel.” The man was too still. This was too dangerous. She looked up into the cold void of his eyes and knew she was in trouble. “I am sorry.”

      “You…stupid…” She tried to retreat, but her hips hit the desk. She turned, grabbed the paper napkin off the tray and squatted at his feet to sop up what she could. He never touched her, but his words were like a slap across the face. “Get up. Get away from me.”

      Tasiya lurched to her feet, but he cornered her against the desk, preventing her from doing the very thing he asked. “Please.”

      “Please what?” She squinted her eyes against the foul words he slung at her. “I don’t owe you any favors. You’re a clumsy foreigner poisoning the land I love. Your incompetence reminds me of every foul, stinking reason I have to do what I do.” He snatched the napkin from her fingers. “Now get out of my face! Go! Get out!”

      Shuffling to the side, Tasiya scooted away. As soon as she was clear of the desk, she turned and ran.

      His threats chased her out the door. “That’s right, you witch. Run. Run!”

      “Hey, sugar. What’s your hurry?”

      She didn’t bother sliding to a halt as Marcus Smith emerged at the top of the stairs in front of her. She shifted directions to run right past him. “Leave me alone.”

      But his bear-size paw latched on to her wrist and hauled her up to his level. “Now that ain’t nice—”

      “Don’t touch me!”

      Tasiya jerked her arm away. Her hand flew back and hit the wall, scraping knuckles against stone and shooting a jolt of pain straight up to her elbow.

      The sharp ache cleared the fog of panic that had consumed her long enough to shove Marcus aside and dart down the spiral staircase.

      “Hey—”

      “Marcus!”

      Boone Fowler’s summons СКАЧАТЬ