Taken With Trouble (CAUGHT IN CHAOS #2)

4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Srena

Pain radiates through my skull like a boxer is using my brain as a mini punching bag. What happened? How did he find me? I thought I was finally safe—

My eyes fly open. Where am I? It’s so dark I can’t see anything.

The last thing I remember is… Liam. He got away again ? No!

I bolt upright and smack my head into a wall. A wall above me? I reach around, feeling walls on either side covered in silky smooth cushions. Where am I? I push hard against the ceiling above me and it creaks open, like a coffin.

Wait.

I’m… in a coffin! Am I dead?

“Hello, Cruz.” A face appears in the crack above me. A face I would like to punch. “I must say, you make death look beautiful.”

“Liam!” I push up my heavy body, pure fire in my veins, all intent on scorching this man. “What in the he—”

“Oh shhh.” His hand covers my mouth. “Not yet, love. We haven’t landed yet. And no offense, but it looks weird for me to be talking to my dead wife in the cargo hold. There’s only one other guy here, but I think he’s on to me. I’ll have to pay him off. ”

Dead wife? Cargo hold? What kind of nonsense is he spouting?

His hand must have weird special powers; because try as I might, I can’t fight him off. My body seems to get heavier and, honestly, I could go for another hour of sleep.

Blackness engulfs me.

Again.

I wake up and, like a gun click, my mind snaps into place. I’m in a coffin, and I’m going to put Liam in it instead.

Murder weapon? My hands.

I shove at the coffin, but my arms only fly upward, hitting nothing. They drop like lead weights beside me, my heart still beating fast as I feel out the location of my captivity.

I’m in a bed. A very soft one. In a room I’ve never seen before. Floor length curtains cover the windows, a fraction of light glowing around the edges. There’s a desk and a dresser in front of me, and to the left are two closed doors. A bathroom and a closet? A space heater purrs on the floor beside the bed.

Where am I? And how did I get here?

My skin grows cold, despite the warmth in the room.

Liam.

That good-for-nothing, terrible man drugged me.

I will murder him if it’s the last thing I do. I shove the covers off and drop my feet to the floor. Cold wood meets my bare toes. Where did my shoes go? I did not approve of this.

I pat my pockets to confirm my fears. My phone is gone. So is my gun I affectionately named Hank. And, no… my badge . My head spins and the room tips on its side.

Not my badge .

I scour the dim room in search of that little leather rectangle. My heart drops with each passing second. I’m not safe without my badge.

I pinch my eyes closed. Clearly, I’m not safe at all. But I can fix this.

First, I need to figure out where in the actual heck I am. Liam couldn’t have taken me far. I was in a freaking coffin. Unless I dreamed that part. It’s all fuzzy right now.

I move toward the window and slip my hand between the folds in the curtain, parting it slightly. Billions of twinkling lights dance around below me. I’m at least sixteen floors up in… Paris?

No no no no. This cannot be happening. I am not in Paris. That is not the Eiffel Tower. It’s Vegas; it has to be. I close my eyes, then open them again and part the curtains. But there’s no stratosphere, no Bellagio, just the real-life Eiffel Tower.

I was in Phoenix. Now I’m in Paris. My head is swimming, and I feel nauseous.

I’m too close to the man I never wanted to see again, the man who—

A tremor runs through my fingers and I drop the curtains, hiding the Eiffel Tower from my view.

I’m going to find Liam, then kill him. If he’s even the one who has me.

I shudder at that thought, refusing to give my fear an advantage. It’s just Liam. Only Liam. And I can handle him. My track record may be less-than-impressive where he’s concerned, but he’s officially awoken the beast.

Mission: Drag-Liam’s-butt-to-jail-and-get-home-as-soon-as-possible is a go.

I’m going to have to come up with a shorter title.

I glance around the room, but he wisely removed anything resembling a weapon from the area, except for an empty coffee mug. I consider the options. If used right, it could work.

Make that one hundred and eighteen ways to kill a man. Or just Liam Hawthorne.

I swipe the mug and tiptoe to the door. Cracking it open, I slip out of the room and into the main living area. I originally thought I was in a suite, but this looks like an apartment .

My body stills when I see feet dangling off the edge of the couch. I tip-toe farther into the room to confirm that the man lying dead asleep is Liam.

A smile forms on my lips. I could run, but I didn’t get drugged and taken to Paris to let this man get away. I have the upper hand, for once. And I’m going to take it.

I quickly scan the room, searching for a better weapon. An ancient-looking knife sits propped up on the entertainment center, beckoning to me like a beacon. Use me.

Don’t mind if I do.

I wrap my fingers around the cool metal handle, adjusting my grip to fit within the waiting grooves. This thing is nice. I hold the blade out as I sneak around the back of the couch.

I can’t really kill Liam. I’d get in huge trouble.

Unless… I do a good job and hide the body. I shake my head. No. Dreaming about his demise is all I can do for now. But it’s quite comforting.

I bring the rusted metal toward his neck. It will barely scratch him. But maybe he’ll succumb to tetanus on our journey to the States. Then I can claim I didn’t kill him. It’s the perfect plan.

Liam’s eyes pop open, and he snatches my hand, twisting my wrist. Pain engulfs the entire right side of my body, momentarily paralyzing me. Until he yanks me on top of him.

“Were you about to kill me with Mother Theresa’s Dagger?” he asks, unamused and holding my wrist so tight it’s like I’ve fallen subject to him… which is the most dangerous of circumstances, seeing where I am now.

I get my knee under me and attempt to dig it into his crotch, but he anticipates my move and rolls. I fly off the couch, smacking into the hard floor. The air evaporates from my lungs, and I gasp at the pain in my chest.

Liam kneels over me, brandishing the knife.

“ This is a relic. Worth fifty thousand dollars.”

A fifty-thousand-dollar knife that was no doubt stolen. I’ll have to write that down .

I swallow in a mouthful of air. “You drugged me.” I swing at him, but he takes advantage of my still weak state to pin me to the floor, the tip of the knife pointed at my head.

“I saved you.” He swirls the knife in the air.

The nerve of this man. “You put me in a coffin !” I yank my knee free, and this time I make contact. He groans and rolls off me into the fetal position. I’m on top of him in an instant, twisting his arms behind his back, making it clear I have the upper hand. “You kidnapped a federal agent. You’re under arrest.”

“Do you have authority in France?”

“Good point. I could turn you over to one of the hundred people who want your head on a platter.”

“Now that would just be heartless.”

“Says the man who killed me.” I pull his arm tighter, and he chuckles.

“You’re clearly alive.”

“I was in a coffin!”

“Again, alive. And, might I say, looking better than ever?”

I pinch his arms, annoyed by his satisfaction.

He laughs, his arms relaxing under my hold, and I wonder if he could break free, but he’s playing along to irritate me. I dislike this man more with each passing second. All I have to do is get him to the authorities and go home.

“Let’s go, we’re leaving.” My chest heaves with adrenaline and frustration.

“It’s cute you think you have any control in this situation,” he says, and the next thing I know I’m on the floor, and Liam is on top of me. It happens so fast I’m completely confused about how I got here. “Let’s make a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with criminals.” I shove against him, but the man is made of bricks.

I look up at him in surprise. I thought he had more of a lanky physique and figured he was a lazy thief, nothing more. Now that I know he works out enough to maintain muscle, I’m going to have to switch my approach.

“That’s literally all you special agents do,” Liam says, rubbing his thumb on the inside of my wrist .

I narrow my eyes and try to shove him off. “Your lack of knowledge regarding my job is insulting.”

“Your lack of knowledge regarding ancient artifacts is insulting.”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure Mother Theresa didn’t own a dagger.”

“Like I’d tell you the real name so you can write it in that little black book filled with my crimes you keep in your back pocket.”

Warmth crawls up my spine. He found that?

Liam sighs, easing off me but keeping the knife between us in a way that says he will take me down again if he has to. I welcome the challenge. “I did you a favor.”

“A favor ?” I jump to my feet and put my fists up. I feel like hitting something, and he’s got a very punchable face. “I’m in Europe!” That fact alone makes everything worse. My blood pressure is through the roof. I’ve been sweating ever since I woke up. I need to get out of here. Now.

“Yes, a favor. I saved your life from a man intent on harming us both and took you to the most beautiful city on earth.”

Vague memories filter through my mind. A person approached me from behind, and when they pressed that rag to my mouth, Liam had looked… surprised? Almost… upset?

I shake my head. He can’t possibly make me believe dragging me across the world was for my benefit. “You really expect me to trust any word coming out of your mouth? You’re a Master Con.”

“It’s funny you should mention that, because I wrote a book with that exact title, under a different pseudonym, of course. The best part was that the book was itself a con. Perhaps you heard of it. It was—”

“Shut up.” My head feels like it’s floating, and his incessant talking isn’t helping.

“Fine, we’ll forget about my award-winning bestseller and go back to you. Believe it or not, I saved you. And now we are here, so it feels like a crime not to enjoy it.”

There’s something bigger going on. A man like Liam doesn’t hop on a plane and see where it takes him. A man like Liam flies the plane. Metaphorically, of course. Though, it wouldn’t surprise me if he could actually fly.

“Why are we really here?” I ask.

Liam lowers the knife with a sigh and—what’s that in his eyes? Remorse? “We’re here because I need to return Scarlett Winthrop’s ring to her parents. And I need an escort since people are trying to capture me.”

“You mean you need an idiot to screw over? What’s the real plan?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “No plan, I promise. Her parents deserve closure, and I want to be the one to offer it. You can handcuff me the whole time, and after it’s over, I’ll let you take me to jail.”

I scoff. He’ll let me.

The way he can make his words almost sound genuine sends a shiver through me. No way am I trusting anything he says. It doesn’t make sense. This is a man who excels at disappearing in plain sight. He doesn’t need me. He’s spinning a lie, because he has another plan up his sleeve where I end up in a coffin for real. I was never in danger. He probably hired that man to knock me out. He just needed to get here without getting caught.

I won’t be played by him. If anyone is going to double-cross the other, it’s me.

“No. I’m leaving. Now.” I send a roundhouse kick toward his face, but he backs up just in time for me to connect with his arm where he holds the knife.

Liam watches as it clatters to the ground before snapping in half. His head turns on a slow swivel until his ocean eyes meet mine. “Really? You’re breaking my toys now?”

I lunge at him.