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  But that beauty was now a terrifying thought, a huge bonus for a trafficker hoping to make a big paycheck off of her. She had to get his ropes free so he could protect her. Yet how many men, weapons, or debilitating drugs did their captors have at their disposal? He hadn’t even seen anyone coming last night—well, he thought it was last night. They’d had little trouble incapacitating him, and could easily do it again while they had their fun with Ally.

  “Any luck on the ropes?” he muttered, not wanting Ally to know what he was thinking. Then again, judging by her comment, she might have already allowed her mind to go there. A shudder passed over him.

  “I think the knots are loosening. Are you cold?”

  “No.” He wasn’t about to tell her why he’d shivered.

  The door was flung open and bright light spilled in, outlining two silhouettes. Preston blinked up at them. No! The fear of what could happen to Ally overshadowed everything else. These men might hurt him physically, but he could handle that a lot easier than them hurting or exploiting Ally. He hardly knew her but felt fiercely protective of her, probably an instinct he would feel for any woman placed in this situation. Had he gotten her into this because of his fame?

  The two men eased into the small room, not saying a word. Ally scrambled to her feet and stood in front of him, bravely facing them. Preston struggled to get to his knees, but the ropes were tied too tightly.

  The light illuminated the small space, which looked like an empty storage closet. Two more men appeared at the door, partially blocking the light, but it was easy to see the machine guns held loosely in their hands. Preston’s stomach took a nosedive.

  One of the first men to enter yanked a knife out of his belt. He tried to navigate around Ally to get to Preston. Ally threw herself at the man, knocking into his other arm and luckily not spearing herself with the knife.

  “Ally, no!” Preston yelled, bucking his body to try to break the ropes or somehow hit the man.

  “You won’t hurt him!” Ally screamed, unable to do much besides push at the guy, with her own hands bound behind her back. She was a glorious sight with determination to protect him evident in her beautiful face and the lines of her curvy body. Her dark hair was falling out of its updo and curling wildly around her face.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Preston commanded the man. “I’ll pay anything, do anything.”

  The other guy in the room grabbed Ally and pinned her against him. He smiled, appearing to enjoy the contact far too much. “He cut ropes,” he said. None of the other men showed any emotion to Ally’s or Preston’s passionate pleas, and that scared Preston almost as much as the guns they held, and the knife coming his direction.

  The man knelt next to him, lifted the ropes away from his lower back, and sliced the rope that tied his ankles to his hands. He then carefully cut the ropes binding Preston’s ankles, sheathed the knife in a holder on his belt, crouched, and helped Preston scramble to his feet. Preston’s hands were still bound behind his back and his heart was still thumping out of control, but as the men in the doorway backed up, he breathed a little easier. They’d gone to a lot of trouble to kidnap them. Maybe all they wanted was money. He had plenty of that.

  The four men marched Preston and Ally along a brightly lit, spacious hallway. Preston’s head was feeling a little better but still had a dull throb. They climbed some steps and pushed out a door onto a wide deck of an obviously expensive yacht. From what he could tell, they were anchored in lots of turquoise-blue water. A small man with Spanish ancestry dressed in business casual sat at a glass patio table, typing away at a laptop.

  Preston and Ally were brought to a halt a short distance away, next to some plush outdoor couches. The men stepped back, but two of them kept guns trained on Preston. The man at the table ignored all of them; Preston assumed he was trying to intimidate or belittle them.

  Ally looked beautiful and terrified, still wearing her fancy pale blue dress and heels from last night. Preston wished he could squeeze her hand or comfort her somehow. He tried to communicate with his gaze that he would protect her, that she’d be okay. She focused on him and gave him a brave smile, impressing him even more. She seemed to be dealing with all of this much better than he was. He returned the smile and mouthed, “You’ll be okay.”

  “No, she might not be okay, Mr. Preston Steele.” The man at the table spoke and stood so quickly that Preston jumped and turned to face him. He had a distinctive Spanish accent but spoke perfect English.

  The man took his time, walking close and checking them out as he came. He was almost a foot shorter than Preston’s six-four; he was even shorter than Ally with her high heels on. He reeked of expensive cologne and dirty power.

  “I’ll pay any number you name to secure her freedom,” Preston said, as evenly and dispassionately as he could manage. As nice as the yacht was, Preston was very afraid that this wasn’t about money. But wasn’t everything about money to a guy like this?

  “No, Preston,” Ally shot out. “I’m not going without you.”

  “Ally.” Preston wished he knew her better, knew how to beg her to go if they’d set her free. He didn’t think she understood the difference between what they could do to him and what they would do to her. His headache grew in force again.

  The little man smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your wish to be together.”

  “What do you want?” Preston ground out.

  “I’m about to tell you—patience, large American football player, patience.”

  Him saying patience like that dug at Preston. His older brother Jex was fond of saying, “Patience, my boy, patience.” He’d even said it in some of his YouTube videos. Had this guy stalked Preston’s family?

  “I am Carlos Sanchez the Third.” He paused as if they should be impressed. When neither of them acknowledged his name, he pushed out a frustrated breath and pointed. “You see the beautiful island over there?”

  Preston’s and Ally’s gazes swiveled. There was indeed a beautiful tropical island a few football fields away that Preston hadn’t seen initially. It had some elevation and lots of lush foliage. It was probably less than a couple miles in circumference.

  “It’s a lovely spot. There’s a natural spring that feeds a beautiful waterfall, giving fresh water and a spot to bathe.” He smiled as if he was a tour guide. “There are fresh mangos, papayas, guava, and coconut. No natural predators on this exotic retreat—maybe a few spiders. Nothing that can actually kill you.” He pointed to a speedboat tied up to the platform at the back of the yacht. “I have been generous enough to prepare boxes full of food and bedding for your stay. Well, enough for Preston to survive on for a few weeks. You’ll have to ration with the two of you.”

  “You’re leaving us on a deserted island?” Preston stated.

  Carlos laughed. “Apparently you haven’t taken too many hits to the head, football star. You guessed correctly.”

  “Why?” And how long would they spend here? Trapped on a tropical island with Ally didn’t sound too bad, and it was infinitely more appealing than staying with these men or his fears of them trafficking Ally and torturing him, but why would this man go to all the trouble of kidnapping them just to strand them here?

  The man moved quickly, getting right up in Preston’s face and poking a finger in his chest. “Your brother stole my brother. When he sees that I’ve captured you, he’ll make an exchange.” He smiled again and his gaze slid to Ally. “When the boys told me how the woman came back to check on you so they decided to bring her along, I assumed that’s even better insurance. Maybe your brother doesn’t love you as much as I love my brother, but he’s a former American military hero. Of course he would want to rescue the pretty lady.”

  Ally flinched at his words, and her dark eyes narrowed.

  “Gunner stole your brother?” Preston was confused and suddenly sick. He’d blamed Ally for luring him to the spot where they were captured. How wrong he’d been. It was his fault Ally was in this mess.

&nb
sp; She was still glaring angrily at Carlos, but then she met Preston’s gaze, and the vulnerability in her eyes made him want to protect her even more. She didn’t say anything, standing stoically and bravely in the face of these men who were most likely either terrorists, drug dealers, traffickers, or all of the above.

  Carlos nodded grimly. “And I want him back.”

  “But if Gunner stole your brother …” Preston’s mind was whirling. “He would’ve taken him for the United States Navy. They’re not going to negotiate with you.” If Gunner couldn’t negotiate with this man, would they just leave Preston and Ally here until they died? Send them to Gunner piece by piece until they got what they wanted? What if Preston had just said the wrong thing, making this man realize how stupid his plan was, and they’d simply slit their throats and drop them in the ocean?

  The man barked out a laugh and stepped back, spreading his hands. “Your brother does not work for the United States military.”

  “Excuse me? Gunner’s been in the Navy since he graduated high school.” Gunner had always been more serious than the other brothers and had enlisted in the Navy, gone to the Naval Academy, then trained as a SEAL. From all they’d heard, he was highly decorated; his most recent rank advancement had been from lieutenant to lieutenant commander. Their mama was very proud and spent a lot of time on her knees praying.

  Smiling silkily, Carlos shook his head. “Your brother has been lying to you. He hasn’t been in the Navy for almost a year. He is currently one of Sutton Smith’s operatives. Do you know of Sutton Smith?”

  Preston nodded, wondering why Gunner or this man would lie to him. “I met him at a party last year.” He’d been impressed with the distinguished man and his famous wife, formerly a duchess and named the most beautiful woman in the world. Preston glanced at Ally again. He’d told her she was the most beautiful woman at that party last night. It was still true, but their sickening situation made looks pretty unimportant. He wished now that she wasn’t so tempting so the men around them wouldn’t be inclined to go after her.

  Carlos chuckled. “You Americans and your stuffy parties.” He gestured to the two of them. “Enjoying a fancy party at the illustrious Bucky Buchanan’s mansion when my men disabled the security sensors, cut through a back fence, and took you. Bucky loves his beautiful ladies.” He leered at Ally’s chest. “Too bad he doesn’t spend as much effort protecting their lovely bodies.”

  Preston’s stomach churned at the way Carlos was staring at Ally. He’d rather be stuck on that island for years than allow Carlos to touch her. His gaze darted to the four armed men. He’d go down fighting if any of them attempted anything. Maybe it was stupid, but he was a Steele and could never allow a woman to be injured while he sat by. Gunner was the noblest of any of them. Could he truly be lying to their family? Why? They all would’ve understood if he retired from the Navy and worked for the illustrious Sutton Smith.

  “Look at you.” Carlos’s gaze swept over Ally, undressing her with his eyes. “All dressed up and so incredibly beautiful, but I’m sure you’ve never been to a party like I would host.” He eased in closer to her, and Preston tensed. “Would you like to come to one of my parties? We can dump Mr. Steele on the island, and you …” He licked his lips. “You I would spoil rotten.”

  “No, thank you,” Ally said with plenty of spice and bite in her voice. She tilted her chin in an obvious challenge. “I’d rather swim with the sharks.”

  Carlos looked startled at her rebuff. Preston inched closer to them; thankfully, the guards’ attention was on Ally as well, and none of them swung their gun to bear on him. His hands tied up, no weapon, and five to one. The odds weren’t great.

  Carlos chuckled and then tsked. He ran his tongue over his lips and his eyes swept over her fitted blue dress again. “It’s a pity. Such a body. Wasting away in the hot sun. Maybe dying here if Gunner Steele doesn’t return my brother in full health. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather come with me? I would never force you to do anything, simply let you enjoy my spacious estate in Colombia and give you time to see that I’m worthy of your affection.”

  Preston was almost in the right position. He could tackle the first gunman into the second one, and maybe in the confusion he could maneuver the knife off one of the men’s belts and cut his ropes free. Then he could grab one of their weapons and have a fighting chance. He didn’t think they wanted him or Ally dead, so that would work in his favor.

  “I truly appreciate the offer,” Ally said. Preston saw the flicker of disgust in her eyes and respected the bite in her voice, though he hoped it didn’t make Carlos furious. “But I’m pretty partial to Preston, the hot sun, and remote tropical islands.”

  Carlos studied her for a few seconds. Preston’s heart was thumping uncontrollably at the crazy move he was about to pull. He was ready to leap when Carlos clapped his hands together and smiled. “Well, my dear, don’t say I didn’t offer when you’re sticky with sweat, bored with Preston’s company, and sick of spiders crawling over you.” He laughed. “Let’s get you two to your tropical paradise. You’ll be able to grow really close until your brother comes for you.”

  Preston’s brain didn’t catch up as quickly as his ears. Carlos wasn’t going to force Ally to stay with him or attack her? He was going to send them to the island unharmed? Relaxing his taut stance, he didn’t question Carlos’s decision as two men grabbed him and two took Ally’s arms and walked them to the speedboat.

  “Best wishes,” Carlos called from the yacht as the men cast the ropes off from the yacht and started the motor. They pulled away from the yacht and toward the island.

  Preston glanced back at Carlos again. Carlos was watching them go, and his eyes were cunning, but Preston was too relieved that he hadn’t touched Ally inappropriately to worry too much about that look.

  Chapter Four

  The boat cruised through calm waters and toward the island. The men with them stayed stoic and silent. Preston wished his hands were free so he could hold Ally and reassure her. She was handling all of this so bravely. Did she truly want to be with him, or was that just a line to keep Carlos away? Most likely just a line. She didn’t even know him very well.

  She was staring at the island but must’ve felt his gaze. Turning to him, she blinked quickly, looked down at the floor of the speedboat, and then away again, but not before Preston saw a tear crest her thick lashes and roll down her smooth cheek. She’d been so brave, and obviously didn’t want even him to see any sign of weakness, but she had every right to cry. Most people would have dissolved in a puddle of tears long before this. It made him feel guilty that she was crying and he could do nothing to help her.

  The boat eased into a small bay and one of the men stowed his weapon and jumped out into the waist-deep water, holding the boat in place. It hit Preston that he had no clue if they were in the Caribbean, Micronesia, Somoa, Fiji, the Maldives, the Philippines, or hundreds of other options. A suffocating feeling pressed down on him as he saw miles of blue ocean surrounding them, no boat, except Carlos’ yacht, or land on the horizon. If Carlos never told anyone where they were, they truly might live out their lives here. Never to see his family again. Never to play football. Never to find love and marry. Never to eat another hamburger. He shook these thoughts away. There would be time to freak out later. Right now, he needed to keep protecting Ally.

  One of the men next to Preston unsheathed his knife again, and Ally gasped. Preston wished he could get closer to her and reassure her. Not that he was feeling too calm or untroubled himself, but he felt driven to protect her.

  “To cut our hands free.” Preston said the statement calmly as if he could guide their intentions. “Right?”

  The man simply looked at Preston as if the words meant nothing to him and kept moving toward Ally. Her eyes widened and she shrank against the man holding her. Preston’s palms grew clammy and his heart raced. They wouldn’t go to all this trouble just to slit their throats now.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Presto
n commanded.

  The man gave him a perturbed glare and kept advancing on Ally. What was going on? Why wouldn’t they respond to him?

  Preston yanked himself away from the man holding him. He didn’t know what he could do with his hands bound, but he wasn’t going to stand by as they cut Ally.

  The man with the knife whirled on him, surprise in his dark eyes. The man who had been holding Preston dove for him. Preston elbowed him and scrambled toward Ally.

  The man who had jumped into the water leapt back into the boat and yelled, “Stop!” He pounced on Preston, and the men’s combined weight knocked him to the fiberglass floor of the boat.

  “Preston!” Ally screamed.

  Her scream tore at him, and Preston struggled to free himself from the weight pushing him down. He’d been in many a wrestling match or fight with one or more brothers, but never with his hands tied behind his back. It was impossible to really fight without your hands free. Preston bucked his body and tried to thrash and kick, getting in one good headbutt.

  “To cut ropes, to cut ropes!” the man yelled in his ear.

  Preston stopped fighting. “You won’t hurt her?” he asked.

  The man sighed. “No. Our job to cut ropes. They no speak the English.”

  Preston finally realized why the men were so quiet. It had taken a while to reach that conclusion, but he could blame it on his throbbing head or all the drugs that were probably in his body. More likely it was the stressful, insane situation they were in, and his mind was trying to find a way to protect Ally and understand whatever Gunner had done.

  “You no fight more?” the man on top of him asked.

  “I won’t fight anymore, if you promise not to hurt her.”

  “We don’t hurt her,” the man said.

  Preston felt like he could finally breathe. He probably shouldn’t trust the man, but he didn’t have a lot of choice. “I won’t fight,” he said.