Dirty Love (Dirty Girl Duet #2)(15)

I’m alone with my thoughts as I get ready for bed. I won’t admit that I’m missing Cav something fierce tonight.

He lied to me.

Attempting to harden my heart while it’s cracked into pieces is a lot like trying to wash a broken window. Pointless. There’s not a damn thing I can do about it now, though. My time is better spent wondering why the hell Banner didn’t answer my text. I really hope it’s not another carny . . .

I tidy up my little room, packing most of my stuff. Regardless of the law Creighton laid down, I’m done being stashed away like I’m an embarrassment. I’m going home tomorrow, come hell or high water.

When I slip into bed, I miss the heat of Cav’s body beside me. Stupid heart. Stupid body. Ugh. Stupid girl.

I fall asleep telling myself I’m going to get over him tomorrow.





Six hours after I leave Banner at the bar, I’m standing in the shadows of a small white farmhouse in Bumf*ck, Kentucky, with a duffel bag over my shoulder and my rental SUV idling quietly on the dirt road behind the property.

I’ve been watching the place for over an hour, and this security guy deserves to be fired. He never varies his routine at all. As soon as he’s back in the sedan, I start my mental timer.

I pull the lock-pick set from my back pocket and dredge up my old skills as I climb the steps to the back door. A few manipulations of the lock, and the handle turns freely.

Silence greets me as I step inside the house. I pause in the dark kitchen to listen but hear nothing. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I move from room to room on the main floor. Empty.

Adjusting the bag on my shoulder, I find the back stairs that lead to the second floor and take them two at a time, hoping to miss old and creaky steps. I’m mostly successful. I pause again at the top of the stairs, but still hear nothing. There are only two doors in the short hallway and I choose the one to my right, pushing it open soundlessly.

The shape in the bed tells me everything I need to know. Greer sleeps curled up like that when she doesn’t have me wrapped around her.

Still silent, I move to the side of the bed and lay out the contents of the bag on the floor—everything I need to keep her quiet and get her out of the house undetected.

She’ll forgive me. Eventually.

I buckle restraints around her ankles and wrists before Greer comes fully awake. She doesn’t have a chance to scream before I push the gag into her mouth and secure it.

This isn’t your normal breaking and entering. No, this is a kidnapping.





I wake to the feel of something being shoved in my mouth and latched around the back of my head. I reach for my face, but my hands are bound. My ankles too.

What the f*ck?

Alarm bells are clanging in my head when my eyes blink open in time to see a masked man, all in black, just before he ties a blindfold around my eyes. He knots the silky fabric tight behind my head and I scream, but the rubber ball in my mouth stifles the sound.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

I struggle, kicking out with my bound feet. Useless.

My muffled screams come in earnest when I’m lifted off the bed and lowered onto some sort of cushion, my arms and legs folded into place. Canvas fabric surrounds me as the sound of a zipper penetrates the ringing in my brain.

Oh my God, I’m being zipped into a bag.

My entire body is jostled when the bag rises from the floor. A low grunt is the only noise in the room as the man starts from the room.

That’s when the reality of the situation hits me. Holy. Fuck. I’m being kidnapped.

Having a billionaire for a brother and more money than most people could imagine in my own right, I know I’m a target for kidnapping. My best defense against this, in my opinion, has always been the anonymity presented by living in the city. I can go mostly anywhere and not be recognized.

But here in Gold Haven, I don’t have that luxury.

My mind spins in a hundred different directions. Is it some redneck from the bar? A few of them looked like they wanted to make me their backwoods bride. Someone who wants a ransom? An enemy of Creighton’s? Who?

And where the hell is my security?

I bounce against the hard body of the man as we make our way down what I assume has to be the stairs.

Shit, if he gets me out that door, I’m screwed.

All the horrific possibilities rip through my brain. White slavery. Rape. Torture. Ransom.

The back door creaks open, and I kick my bound legs against the canvas fabric, wriggling for everything I’m worth. A heavy smack lands on the outside of the bag in the vicinity of my hip.

The * just hit me. He’s going to die.

Between the temperature change and the squeaking hinges, I know I’m outside. My chances of getting out of this unscathed are dropping with every fraction of a second.

The acrid scent of exhaust hits my nostrils moments later as I hear an idling engine and the sound of a door opening. I’m lifted higher before the bag is lowered onto another padded surface. I struggle, but can’t find anything to grab with my bound hands.

The doors slam shut, and I know I’m f*cked.

My name is Greer Karas, and I’ve just been kidnapped.




The drive is short, but the panic building in every cell of my body multiplies exponentially with each mile. Taking deep breaths, I try to push down the hysteria that’s bubbling up. I need to find my cool, capable self, because I know fear isn’t going to help.