Page 67 of Lethal Torture

His broad, powerful body is hard and scarred, shaped by life and war, rather than carefully sculpted in a gym mirror. He has no tattoos, which isn’t surprising, given that he’s spent time in the SAS. I can’t imagine it would be helpful having identifying features when you might get captured at any moment. But evengrinning on a beach, surfboard at his feet and child on his shoulders, Luke is unmistakably a warrior.

It isn’t just the solid wall of muscle, or Luke’s dinner-plate-sized hands gripping the boy’s small ankles. It’s the wariness that lurks behind his turquoise eyes, the shadow of secret battles that live inside him. It’s the way the woman and boys instinctively lean into him, like he’ll shelter them from any storm.

It’s not a photo tacked under a fridge magnet, not some casual happy snap.

Luke has this photograph in a frame by his bedside. One of the young boys even looks like him, with the same tousled curls and turquoise eyes.

They’re definitely a family.

I feel almost sick with humiliation.

I came here to find out who Luke really is.

Well—now I do.

No wonder he has rules about sleeping with clients.

All this time, I thought Luke’s superhuman control was about some kind of moral code, trying to maintain a professional line.

And if I’m honest, it’s been more than a little bit hot to watch him exert that kind of restraint.

I guess I thought we were heading toward an inevitable ending. Especially after that look in the rearview mirror the other night.

I thought it was only a matter of time until I ended up here, naked, with Luke inside me. Soon, if I’m honest, because after my little vibrator session, I’m way past the point of being able to pretend I don’t want him.

But Luke wasn’t ever playing games.

He really meant it when he said he doesn’t sleep with clients.

Luke has a pretty wife, and two sons he takes surfing at the beach.

I really am just a contract to him.

All the while I’ve been imagining some kind of sexual tension between us, he’s been trying to diplomatically create space to do his job.

Shame and humiliation rush over me in a burning wave.

I shouldn’t be here.

Whatever I told myself about wanting to learn more about Luke or gaining the advantage is bullshit.

Coming here was an invasion of his privacy.

16

LUKE

“Thank you so much!”The slightly tearful young girl whose tire I’ve just changed gives me a watery smile. “I’m so grateful. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.” She grimaces as she takes in my mud- and grease-stained clothes. “I hope you weren’t heading out to anything important.”

“It’s fine, I was on my way home anyway.” I hold her car door open as she gets in. “If you run into any more trouble, just stay in the car and call the RAC, okay? It’s not safe to flag down strangers this late at night.”

I wait until she’s driven away before turning for home, checking the security cameras on my phone to make sure Zinaida got inside safely.

Oh, sure, Luke. Just checking, huh.

Zinaida is standing in the middle of my kitchen.

She looks hot as hell.