Two weeks later, I was still beat up and bruised. The only difference- my trainers were, too. It made things interesting to have three men teaching me what I needed to know. I learned each style. I also picked up from them and used the others' styles against them. Three out of five times, I was down, but the other two were when I kicked ass.

Brack and I planned to barbeque with Ray and Herman later. We'd received a large supply of steaks, and Ray was out in the surf fishing. If he caught anything, we'd add it to our dinner. All three men grumbled over vegetables, but too bad. They would eat what I put in front of them.

We enjoyed steak and some fresh whiting for dinner. Ray and Herman left early. They slept in split shifts and never stayed around after eating. Brack told me they camped in tents but moved the location daily. They were part of Brack's team because they adapted to their environment as well as being damn good men. He met both of them in the military.

I felt a little guilty that I was glad to see them go. Brack and I had sex on the brain and I needed him working off the state of desire he had me in with one hot glance of his sexy eyes. He knew it too. His shades were back to being a part of his fulltime attire. He would casually remove his glasses and nail me with his hypnotic, sex on the beach gaze. I walked around in a perpetual state of "fuck me" wet panties.

Unfortunately, our sensual evening plans went to hell quickly. Brack went outside and called Mack while I called my father. Two weeks ago I'd promised to call every other day. It took some of the pressure from Brack. This call wasn't nearly as pleasant as the call two days before.

"I'm tired of this going nowhere and I'm starting to lose faith in Brack's man," my father complained. I tried to interrupt, but he went on. "This asshole can't be invisible. Everyone leaves a trail. And the damned DNA isn't in. What the hell?"

"Daddy, let me speak please." I moved the phone from my ear as his rant grew louder.

"And what's going on where you are? These yahoos won't tell me where that is. I'm paying them and don't think it's small change. I have a right to know everything. I'm the only person in your life that's safe at the moment. This BS is going to stop or the paychecks will."

The senator seldom got wound up like this, but once he did, it was impossible to stop him. I tried breaking in twice more with no success, so I finally gave up with a loud sigh, which he either didn't hear or just ignored. Eventually, the silence from his end let me know he asked or demanded an answer to a question.

"Are you done?" I asked gently.

Now, I heard his sigh as I placed the phone closer to my ear.

"And don't start with me about control issues again." It was a reprimand, but his tone was softer.

"I'm okay, Daddy. They're taking good care of me." No way would I tell him about my self-defense training. "Brack has me playing racquetball. Coach Jerry will have my head, but I'm staying in shape."

"That man calls every day. He's beside himself with worry, or so he says. He cares more about the coming season and the green in his pockets than your safety," he grumbled.

My dad and Jerry didn't get along and never had. They were both strong willed and neither put up with my moods when I decided to throw a tantrum. Funny how I waited both of them out when they threw theirs. Jerry was an acquired taste. Every year I said I would replace him. Then I won and it didn't feel right. With only a few years left in my career, he'd probably make the cut until I hung up my racquet.

My father finally settled down and I was able to end our conversation. I went outside to hunt down Brack and heard the tail end of his phone conversation.

"Get someone over there now. This isn't like him. Something's wrong. Call me immediately when you get there." Brack ended the call and turned toward me. His expression was haunted. "Mack isn't answering his phone and he never checked in today."

My stomach cramped. Brack walked to me and wrapped me in his arms. It was me who should be comforting him, but I couldn't. My entire body began trembling. "I'm sorry, so sorry."

"Hey. Mack can take care of himself. We don't know anything yet."

Yes we did. We knew my psychopath got to Mack, we just couldn't voice it aloud. Brack walked me back inside the hut. We lay on the bed while he rubbed my back. The phone stayed clasped in Brack's hand as we waited for it to ring.

It was two hours before we knew he was alive- for now. Mack was in critical condition. He survived, at least so far, because Brack sent one of his team to check Mack's apartment. Our flight from the island was similar to the mad rush that took us here. Brack was speaking in monosyllables, if he spoke at all. Another of Brack's team members was picking up Ray and Herman. The size of his organization surprised me. I needed to ask more questions.

Later.

"This guy's mine now," was all Brack said during the flight.

I was okay with that. My brain was scrambling for a safe place, knowing it didn't exist. Ty was bringing me back to his playground. Brack would die and this creep would win. I swear I'd never be warm again. Ice traveled through my veins filling my entire being with dread. The plane engine rumbled. I tossed my cookies into several plastic bags that Brack placed in my lap. We didn't speak. I'm sure Brack wished he'd never met me much less had sex with me. People in my life died and Brack's friend was paying the price.

One thousand one- one thousand two-