Submitting to the Shadow (Kindred Tales #27) - Evangeline Anderson Page 0,64
compassion.
“But you don’t know me,” Sammi whispered tightly. “Just because you kidnapped me doesn’t mean you and I are friends.”
It might be foolish to talk this way and risk making him angry but she couldn’t help herself—she wanted desperately to distance herself from this man in any way she could. Since he had her pinned to the bed, this was literally the only way open to her.
“Oh, we’re going to be much more than friends, Beautiful…”
Her abductor stroked the side of Sammi’s face. His big hand was hot and clammy and again she felt the urge to puke.
“Much more than friends,” he murmured. “After our date tonight.”
Forty-Seven
“Yes, Commander, I remember seeing her,” one of the guards on duty at the HKR building nodded when Roark pulled up a picture of Samantha on the monitor of his communications device. “She was here a while ago—at the start of my shift. I remember thinking she looked upset—like she’d been crying.”
The guard’s words felt like a nail in his heart but Roark struggled to keep his voice even.
“Did you see where she went? Did she leave with anyone?”
“Actually, yes she did.” The guard—a Light Twin of a Twin Kindred pair—frowned thoughtfully.
“She left with that little human male whose always hanging around here.” The other guard—the Dark Twin of the pair—came up to join the conversation.
“That’s right. What’s his name? I forget.” The Light Twin frowned. “He’s been in here a couple of times, asking about your female, though, Commander,” he added, speaking to Roark.
“Yes, he’s been hanging around for weeks,” the Dark Twin growled. “I didn’t know what to think of him but he never made any trouble so…” He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling.
“He’s been here for weeks asking about Samantha and nobody thought to call up to the Mother Ship and tell someone about it?” Roark demanded, glaring at them.
The Light Twin shrugged sheepishly.
“He’s always been extremely friendly. He even waved to me as he and your female were leaving.”
“So she got into his vehicle?” Roark’s heart sank. “Where did they go? What’s his fucking name?” he growled, his frustration spilling over.
“Even if we could remember his name, there’s no guarantee he gave us the right one,” the Dark Twin said, frowning. “But we might at least have his license plate number.”
“His what?” Roark frowned.
“The number on the back of his vehicle. Humans use it for vehicle identification,” the Dark Twin explained. “Come on—we’ll look at the surveillance footage from the front of the building and see what we can find.”
“And this number—it will lead me to the male who took Samantha?” Roark asked.
“Certainly. We are cross referenced with the human system,” the Dark Twin said. “Once we find the plate number, we can easily find the address of his domicile as well.” He must have seen the worried look on Roark’s face because he clapped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Brother—we’ll find your female.”
“I hope you’re right.” There was a tightness in Roark’s chest that wouldn’t go away.
He only hoped he could find Samantha before it was too late.
Forty-Eight
“Put it on. All of it.” Her captor nodded at a pile of clothing he had dumped on the rose-petal strewn bed. He loomed over Sammi as she sat there on the edge of the mattress, her hands still cuffed in front of her.
Sammi looked at what he had brought. There was a red sheath dress made out of some kind of stretchy, shiny material, a pair of black fishnet pantyhose, and a pair of high black stiletto heels.
None of the clothing was in style at the moment—either on the Mother Ship or on Earth. It looked like something from a bygone era. Sammi wondered if her captor was fixated on something or someone in the past who had dressed like this.
Whatever the reason, maybe she could work it to her advantage.
“I can’t,” she said, looking up at him. “I mean, I can’t put all this on with my hands cuffed.” She held up her cuffed hands as evidence. “How would I get my arms through the sleeves?”
“Well…” Her captor frowned. His face was dark with heavy black stubble and Sammy thought the expression made him look like an angry bear.
“Please,” she said quietly. “There’s no way I can fight you—you’re way too big and strong. So what harm could there be in uncuffing me?”
Her subtle appeal to his vanity seemed to work because he smirked and nodded.
“You’ve got a point, Beautiful. All right, I’ll uncuff you but no