Tempted (erotic) (#4, 101 Nights)

Chapter Four: George

I think I was right about how she’d react. She’s outwardly emotional, a trait I’ve never shared. She’s crying and trembling, and I steady her. It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with someone like this.

“Time is a precious commodity right now, Alisha,” I warn her softly. “I need your help to find her.”

Alisha takes a couple more heaving breaths, struggling for control. I wait, knowing how much she cares for Natalie. She’s nowhere near calm enough, and I’m not certain how else to help her focus other than to talk her through this.

“This is what we know,” I start. “The man there is Hassan, an agent in the Nijalan Security Bureau. He may or may not be operating on orders from Elijah’s father. We’re assuming he is. If they make it back to Nijala with Natalie, we’re going to have a problem getting her back. Assuming that’s where he’s taking her. Elijah’s father has estates all over the world where he can stash her.”

Alisha is listening. She grips the hand I have resting on her shoulder. She’s not pulling it free, simply holding it. I take her free hand with mine and squeeze.

“The two guys are hired thugs,” I continue. “Most likely disposable, once Hassan has what he wants. I expect the bodies to turn up in about another fourteen hours.”

She sucks in a breath and holds it at my words. I’d almost forgotten that, while she may not be new to petty crime, she is to outright murder.

“Deep breath. Concentrate on the issue, not how you feel,” I whisper.

She obeys.

“I want you to watch this one more time and tell me what you see that I don’t,” I say and flick a button on the remote.

I’ve been watching the scene over and over and over. My instincts are clamoring. I’m missing something. I have to be. Hassan and Natalie can’t disappear off the grid completely. This is the only footage we have, the only possible clue we can to what Hassan was planning. My gut tells me something that I can’t verify through the video or searching through the staff activity logs for the past month.

“There’s a possibility they’re in the city, or were up until a few hours ago,” I add.

“How would you know that?” she asks finally.

“They snatched someone else from Dayton, Ohio, around ten in the morning yesterday. The car was picked up on the New Jersey turnpike, headed this way,” I explain.

“Kallista King,” she murmurs.

I shift, reminded that Alisha managed to compromise years of painstaking attempts to cover the tracks of the girl who was known as Kallista King. Hidden for five years, Kallista was the code name given to Elijah’s sister, Layla, who we were hiding from their abusive father.

“Yes,” I reply shortly.

“Who is she?”

“Not your concern.”

Alisha turns in my grip. Tears glow in her eyes, and she’s glaring at me. “You can’t ask me for help and keep secrets at the same time!”

“You are going to teach me this lesson?” I challenge. Automatically, I wipe tears from her face with one hand, and my fingers hover over those warm, plush lips. I resist the urge to touch them, despite the memory of her kiss earlier.

“My secrets have nothing to do with Natalie going missing!”

“Kallista’s identity is not your concern,” I reply firmly. “You put her in danger when you hacked me.”