Chapter 5 Drugged!

Danika's Pov

“Damn it.” The intense pain in my tailbone was nothing compared to the sudden urgency racing through my veins. I pushed myself up quickly, scrambling away from him on the dusty floor. Survival instinct kicked in, telling me to get as far away from this unpredictable, sweating man as possible.

He stumbled forward again, his fine leather shoes shuffling on the cheap carpet. He was trying to control himself, trying to put his thoughts in order, but the battle was clearly lost. His jaw was clenched so hard I could see the muscles jump. As I studied him, putting distance between us, that sense of familiarity hit me again. His cheekbones, the sharp line of his nose, the sheer expensive quality of his clothes, even rumpled, I definitely knew him. I tried to place him, running through the faces of Jared's associates and rivals, but the puzzle pieces wouldn't click.

"Not my problem." I muttered to myself, turning on my heel. I took two hurried steps toward the emergency exit when I heard a woman's voice, piercing and furious, echoed in the hallway.

“He couldn't have gone far! He was barely standing a minute ago! Check the rooms on this floor! He’s wearing a navy suit, you can’t miss him. If he gets away, you’ll all pay! I need him back. Now!”

“Damn it!” I stopped dead, the curse tearing through my lips. That was the last thing I needed. A manhunt right outside my escape route. That high-pitched voice sounded like a spoiled brat used to getting her way, definitely the type to drug a man to force his hand. If they found him, they'd find me standing right next to him, and Jared would smell trouble immediately.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My mind raced: where to go? Back to the room I just left? Too risky. Hide in a closet? Where the hell could I find a closet? I had no access to any of these rooms!

Just as the voices grew closer, almost right at the stairwell door, the drugged man moved. He didn't use finesse. He grabbed my forearm, his hand was impossibly hot. He didn't give me a chance to protest; he pulled me towards a door. The door burst open with a squeak. Before I could regain my footing, he pulled us both inside.

It was one of the VIP rooms because this definitely didn't look like a regular room. He slammed the door shut and, with a shaky but determined hand, locked the door.

I was pressed hard against the back wall, and he was right in front of me, a large, heaving wall of muscle and heat. He caged me in perfectly, his body vibrating with tension, his chest rising and falling violently.

He immediately reached up, tugging hard at the knot of his expensive tie, loosening it and yanking it off his neck as if it were choking him. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his tailored shirt, revealing a patch of damp, muscular skin.

The heat radiating off him was overwhelming, he was burning up. He slowly brought his head down, his glazed eyes finally settling on my face, studying me for a long, agonizing moment. The familiarity was stronger now, close up, but I still couldn't name him. The look he gave me was less predatory now and more desperate, like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.

He whimpered again, a low, wretched sound that actually stirred a flicker of reluctant sympathy in me.

“Please.” He rasped, his voice barely a whisper, thick with pain, “You have to help me. I can’t… I can’t stay conscious.”

I had just agreed to orchestrate a murder. This was not the time for kindness.

I kept my voice cool, steady. “Help you? You just kidnapped me, basically. You pulled me into this mess. And you look like you’re about to collapse. Why should I help a stranger who’s clearly involved in something dangerous?” I challenged him. “Those people outside are looking for you. If I help you, I will get involved too.”

He pushed off the door, using the last of his strength to hold himself up. He leaned in, his face inches from mine, his hot, ragged breath washing over me.

“Anything,” he repeated, his eyes burning with a desperate sincerity. “I mean it. I will do whatever you want. Money, protection, access, a debt. I’ll make it worth your risk. I can give you whatever you want. Just… get me through this. Help me.”

A debt. That word hung in the air. A clearly wealthy man owing me a life debt. That was far more valuable than a few minutes of safety. A high-value pawn to use against Jared later, if the primary plan failed. A slow, cold smirk curved my lips. This man’s desperation was a gift.

“Are you really sure about that?” I asked, my voice dangerously soft. “Because I don't ask for simple things. I have very high expectations, and I only deal with things that benefit me directly. Whatever I ask for, you will have to deliver, no questions asked.”

His eyes, even clouded by the drug, didn't waver. He nodded fiercely. “Yes. I’m sure. Just tell me what to do.”

The woman’s voice was right outside the door now, loud and frustrated. “Check every utility room! He has to be on this floor!”

“Fine,” I agreed, making the commitment. “I’ll help you. But you better remember that promise.”

The instant I said the words, before I could even formulate a plan, he reacted. It wasn't a thank you. He lurched forward, crashing his mouth down on mine. The kiss was fierce, hot, and utterly demanding. There was no tenderness, only a desperate need for contact, for release. He moved his right arms away from my arms to my waist, while his left hand was behind my head, making the kiss deeper.

His lips were burning, his tongue rough, and I barely had time to register anything when a slight moan left my lips. I never liked kissing, especially with Jared. But this… This was crazy. It felt like I was melting, and the middle of my thighs began to throb painfully.

This was crazy. Literally so crazy. I was getting turned on by a kiss!