Chapter Three

I n what felt like nanoseconds, Shiloh was laced into the corset dress. It crushed her ribs so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Tons of feathers clamped around the high neck and hugged her from the thighs down. Even the stupid sleeves were ringed in feathers.

Her state of discomfort was bad enough, but what was the military guy from the street doing here? With Vanya ?

Her mind did a loop the loop, and her stomach plunged on another trip on the terrifying rollercoaster that had become her life.

Plastering her palms over her chest, she wheezed, “Can’t…breathe!”

The two women who’d squeezed her into the dress looked at her impassively. It had taken Shiloh all of two seconds to surmise that she had no allies in them, and now her belief couldn’t be more accurate.

One of them walked forward and took her by the arm. The other opened the door, granting her a direct view of the room across the hallway.

Two men stood with their heads together, and they didn’t give her a moment’s notice.

As she was shoved into the room with them, they broke apart.

Her heart took off at a rapid pace, threatening a heart attack any moment despite her young age.

Oh god. Vanya wore a fine suit. He was her groom.

Fuck no.

She was not marrying this man. She would rather be hitched to William—at least she had enough dirt on him to force him to let her go. Vanya was a wild card.

She shifted her stare to the man beside him, the one piercing her in his deep gray, too-familiar stare. The man from the street.

Vanya said something to him in Russian, and the man responded in kind.

Shiloh’s gut clenched hard enough to force a sour taste into her mouth.

He wasn’t American at all. In that moment of desperation when she was trying to escape William, she’d made the wrong decision asking him for help.

Alarm made her breaths come fast and hard. She was going to hyperventilate, and she would die in a shroud of feathers.

Vanya caught her attention. “Change of plan. You’re going to marry Matvey.”

Matvey? Why did that name sound so familiar to her? Was he one of William’s colleagues she’d never met in person?

She took a step back. Why, she had no clue, because running in this tight dress was impossible. Escape, futile.

The devil she knew and the devil she didn’t were in cahoots. Not even William—if he was even still here—would be able to save her now.

The muscled man moved to stand in front of her. His penetrating gaze seemed to sharpen on her, sending even more dread through her system.

When he took her hands in his, she didn’t even realize another man had joined them in the room. When she saw how he was dressed, dizziness made her head swirl.

A priest.

“No!” Her harsh gasp came out as a hot whisper too low for anyone to hear but Matvey, the man she was being forced to wed.

His grip on her hand tightened, and his thumb swept over her pulse point in her wrist.

She gulped as the priest began the ceremony. What was happening? One minute she was taking a shower, the next a gun was digging into the back of her head. Now she was being forced to marry this guy. For all she knew, he was a member of the Russian mob.

“Kiss your bride.”

Her eyes flew wide in terror as the man leaned in close.

He smelled good. Like cedar.

When he lowered his mouth to hers, his lips were much softer than the granite they appeared to be.

She tested the theory by biting down on his bottom lip and ruthlessly yanking.

He made a growling sound and jerked his mouth away. Blood trickled from the place where she just bit him.

He stared down at her for a long beat. Fear blasted through her.

Bracing herself for a blow, she glared up into his eyes.

In a lightning-quick move, he raised his hand. She braced herself for pain.

He swiped the back of his hand over his bloody lip.

To her shock, he tossed back his head and laughed.

“She’s a feisty one,” he said in plain English before whipping her up into his arms and tossing her over his shoulder.

If she couldn’t breathe before, she really couldn’t now. She felt like a thousand zip-ties were banded around her ribs, restricting any possibility of drawing in the gasp she so badly needed to when he threw her over his steely shoulder.

Since when did a wedding ceremony end with the groom carrying his bride out on his shoulder? What happened to bridal style?

The pristine landscaping of the estate flashed in her vision as he carried her to the moving van and lowered her to her feet. Her ankle turned over on the stiletto’s high heel—with feathers, of course—and she almost fell on her face.

Without a word uttered from those hard—soft?—lips, he picked her up and plopped her in the passenger seat. Frantic, she lunged toward the driver’s seat, her only thought to escape.

There wasn’t a key in the ignition. Even if she could get behind the wheel before he walked around the vehicle, she had no way to start the engine.

He jumped in and slammed the door. In seconds they were rolling down the long driveway toward the gate.

Shiloh gripped the seat. “Are you going to ram through that thing?”

“They’ll open it.” His voice rang with utter confidence and not a single trace of a Russian accent. Everything she knew flipped on its ear. Now if she had to hazard a guess, his name was not Matvey.

A second later, the gate swung open wide. The guards watched impassively as they drove through it. If they wondered why he was leaving with her, they didn’t stop them for questioning and nobody gave chase.

Once they hit the road, Shiloh attempted to suck in enough air to fill her lungs. Feathers tickled the underside of her jaw, and she tried to bat them away, but the ones on her wrist only tickled her nose.

“Tell me your name,” she demanded.

He remained silent.

“Who are you?” She raised her voice a notch.

“I’m the man who saved you from that scary motherfucker. You asked me to help you. I take my job seriously.”

His job? Was he some kind of police officer? FBI?

“Where are we going?” Her voice shivered with a combination of fear and a lack of oxygen that was starting to make her panic.

“Private airport.”

They made it down the street at a normal pace, but as he rounded the corner, he stepped on the gas. The slippery material of her dress made her slide in the seat. She planted her heels on the rubbery floor mat and gripped the armrest. Staying in her seat was the least of her worries though.

The mention of an airport, let alone a private one, made her blood run cold. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out soon.”

Feathers swirled in the air currents, tickling at her face and fluttering on her knees as though the birds they’d come from were still alive and trying to flee.

“Why are you driving a moving van?”

“Because I was helping my brother’s girlfriend move.” He made another turn, and she slid far to the left. The console dug into her side, but the boning of her dress was starting to dig in too.

In the back of the van, boxes tumbled around.

He sighed. “That was her boxes of shoes.”

She panted for air as she slithered a few inches back into the center of the seat and attempted to find a pocket of space inside the corset where she could fit her ribs.

He shot her a look. Then he whipped out a hand and yanked on the bow at the top of her laces along her spine.

Sweat broke out on her forehead. If he thought he could exercise his marital rights, he was dead ass wrong.

When he hooked a finger under the lace and yanked, she gasped. Precious air trickled into her lungs. All the way down her spine, he continued to loosen her laces.

He’d just helped her out.

Again.

She dragged in a huge breath, overfilling her lungs until she sputtered on a cough. “Th-thank you. This stupid dress.”

He tossed her another look and she saw he’d grabbed his phone. He pressed it to his ear and spoke in a low growl. “Meet me at the airstrip. I have to get on that plane. Now. And I’ve got a guest.”

He listened for a beat and twisted his gaze from the road to her. “What’s your name?”

She shook her head. “Just drop me at my sister’s in New York City. She can help me figure this out.” She hadn’t gone to Anya before now. They weren’t on good family terms, but most of all Shiloh didn’t want to involve her in the mess she’d leaped into herself.

He never shifted his penetrating stare from her. “ I am helping you figure this out. You’re coming with me. Tell me your name.”

He’d married her and didn’t even know her name? No wonder. To these people, she was less than human. Hadn’t that jackass William told Vanya he could change her name if he wished?

This guy had no information on her. He only had her and this damn dress.

“Give me your name, woman.” His fingers tightened on the phone in his grip.

She dropped her gaze to the ragged tear in his bottom lip. “Shiloh.”

“Shiloh…Malone,” he bit off into the phone.

“ Excuse me? ” a male voice projected loud enough through the speaker for her to hear.

“I’ll explain,” he told the speaker. Without another word, he ended the call and glanced into the rearview mirror. As she checked the side mirror to see if there was anyone following them, she almost slid off the seat again.

“Damn this dress.”

He didn’t speak again. They crossed the New York border, but didn’t go anywhere near a road that would bring them to the JFK airport.

“One more thing.” The man whipped the van into a gas station parking lot.

“We need gas? Now?”

“No. We’re switching vehicles. In case someone is tailing us.”

Even for a car thief, the man was damn smooth. In little time, they were seated in a sports car that he claimed to “borrow.”

He urged her inside, but she stood her ground for a heartbeat.

She jerked her face toward him, finding him standing close. Too close. Recovering quicker than she believed she could, she burst out, “Great! Now we’ll be hunted for grand theft auto! And getting into a car this low to the ground is almost worse than climbing up into the moving van.”

He said nothing.

The car was a lot faster than the lumbering van, though. When she saw a small sign with the name of a private airstrip, she grasped the edges of the seat. Fear dragged an icy finger down her spine. How many times had her ex flown her out of places just like this one?

They reached a small parking lot without a crack in the pavement in sight. Yes, this was a place where wealthy people flew out in private jets. The shiny, new bird sitting on the runway solidified this fact in Shiloh’s mind.

“Private jet?”

He didn’t respond to her question, only got out of the sports car and hurried to the passenger door. She hated that he grasped her by the waist and tugged her upward to her feet even as she was grateful that she didn’t have to attempt to navigate the maneuver in a mermaid skirt covered in feathers.

He took her by the arm and led her to a flight of steps leading to the jet entrance. In the open doorway, another tall, muscled man appeared. His brows shot up as he spotted her.

Her rescuer took her elbow, and she flinched as he skimmed the bruises there. As if he noted her reaction, he released her and moved his hand to her waist, guiding her up the first few steps.

“I’m not going with you! Take me to my sister’s.”

“Can she keep you safe from those Russians?”

He had a point.

Step by painstaking step, Shiloh made her way up and into the jet. The man standing at the top was just as tall as her…her what? New husband? Was that even a legal ceremony?

He stepped back, allowing her and the man behind her to duck inside.

A striking blonde woman sitting in the front row shot to her feet. “What in the world ?” The tall man moved over to her side as if seconding her exclamation.

He leveled his gaze on her rescuer. “Seriously, man. What the hell? I’ve heard of love at first sight, but this is ridiculous.”

“This is not a love match!” Shiloh bit out. She sent a fiery glare at her captor. “He bought me!”

The men exchanged unreadable glances.

There was no way out.

A fresh batch of adrenaline hit Shiloh’s system, and between the rush in her veins and the cool air in the jet, she began to shiver, which only made the feathers on her dress wave in wild flutters.

“Here. Sit down.” The man she just married guided her to a seat and opened an overhead compartment. He pulled down a blanket and draped it over her. Next, he produced a bottled water and placed it in her hand.

His face loomed close as he took the oversized leather seat next to her. “Let’s talk.”

She opened her mouth, but a sudden thought hit, almost as horrifying as being married to a man she didn’t know and trapped on a plane bound for an undisclosed destination.

William.

If her ex hacked her laptop, he’d only get the bare basics on her computer setup. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t figure out that she had all the dirt she gathered on him in a cloud. If he breached that, all would be lost. Oh god. How dumb could she be?

Why hadn’t she thought to add several more layers of protection before now? She had to get to the files before William did and add more security.

Sure, this new husband of hers looked strong and capable…but he wasn’t capable of stopping a man like William.

* * * * *

Oaks jerked his head at his oldest brother Carson. Before he took a step toward the rear of the plane, he stole a glance at Shiloh. The top of her blonde head was visible over the black leather seat. She hadn’t moved a muscle or even seemed to blink since takeoff, when she’d clicked her seatbelt in place.

Carson’s fiancée, Layne, got out of her seat and crossed the aisle to slip into the seat beside Shiloh. “You look uncomfortable in that dress. I have clothes with me. Would you like to change?”

Before Oaks heard her response, Carson yanked the curtain shut, cutting off their view of the women. Each step that Oaks took down the aisle reminded him that Shiloh hadn’t gotten an aisle when she was forced to marry him.

The Black Heart Security plane was arranged with a lot of space. After all, the Malone men were all over six feet tall. Even their baby sister Willow stood at five-ten. Those long legs of hers had gotten the notice of enough boys over the years that her brothers were all on edge any time she walked out of the house.

He plopped into a roomy seat, and Carson took one opposite, facing him. The seating was designed for conferences, and right this minute Oaks knew it would be more of an interrogation from big brother and boss.

Carson leaned forward in his seat. “What the hell happened?”

“I was loading the van with boxes and that woman was on the street. When she walked past me, she looked right at me and mouthed for me to help her.”

“Help from what exactly?”

“A man was dragging her away. She was being kidnapped. He took her across the street and shoved her in a car. So I hopped in the van and followed.”

Carson sat back. “With the cops in pursuit.”

He gave a single nod. “I’m pretty sure the cop was going to give me a ticket for being double-parked. And probably doing an illegal U-turn too. It doesn’t matter.”

He scrubbed a finger over his upper lip. “This keeps getting worse and worse. You were gone a long time. Where did you end up?”

“Jersey.” He raked his fingers through his hair, missing his Stetson. The black felt was like an old friend, and the brim perfectly concealed his eyes when he wanted it to. Like now.

“The guy took her to this big house in a suburb.”

“Did you get the license plate?”

“Already ran it through the system while I was driving. It’s a rental.” He flicked his stare to Carson’s. “And it was armored.”

His brother’s dark brow arched at that tidbit of information. “Go on.”

“There was a gate with guards. They spoke Russian.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure what that woman is involved in, but she asked for my help and—”

“And you played the hero by rescuing her…but she claims you bought her?”

Oaks shifted his shoulders. The jet might be spacious compared to commercial aircraft, but there still wasn’t enough room to contain him.

“The asshole who took her to the house ducked out, but not before he made a deal with the Russian in charge.”

“What kind of deal?” Carson flicked his gaze toward the drawn curtain.

“The marriage kind.”

He gave a slow nod. “That accounts for the dress. But not the part where she said you bought her.”

“My plan had to keep changing. You know how it is.” He met Carson’s gaze. The truth of the things they’d seen and done as Navy SEALs transmitted between them.

Carson cleared his throat with a soft push of air.

Taking that as a sign to go on, Oaks continued with the debriefing. “The Russian—Vanya—was going to force her hand and then take her to his homeland. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“Why? What good was she to him?”

“From what I can see, lust.”

He nodded.

“We both know what happens to girls who end up in other countries.”

“They never come back.”

“Exactly.” He released the air he was holding in his lungs. It felt hot and filled with pent-up anger at all that took place over the past two hours. “So I did the only thing I could think of that got us both out of there—I offered to buy her from him.”

Carson leveled him in a look. “Oaks.” When he spoke his name like that, with an edge of disapproval, he almost sounded like their old man. But Oaks would never tell him that. They all hated their father and were glad to walk him to his grave. Drawing parallels between Carson and their father would only cause unnecessary hurt.

“I offered him a half million dollars’ worth of crypto.”

He waited for his brother’s eyes to bug out of his head at the amount, but he didn’t even react. A sure sign that he was masking how he felt about Oaks not only showing up with a new bride but buying her for what most people considered a fortune.

Money was the least of their concerns. The Malones could spare it. They hadn’t grown up with wealth, but their investments and the companies they’d formed over the past few years made money at an almost stupidly embarrassing rate.

“How did you convince Lebedov to make the deal?”

“I showed him my Russian ID and dropped the name of a very influential bratva leader.”

“Damn. That’s a lot of leverage, bro.”

“When I go in for the kill, I go all in. I’m a Malone.”

“And you got yourself a bride.”

He ran his tongue over the ragged bite on his bottom lip. “She’s less than enthusiastic.”

At that, Carson barked a short laugh. “She married you—who wouldn’t be?”

“I didn’t get a prenup, but I didn’t marry her with my real name.”

“We’ve got a lot to figure out.” He flicked his gaze toward the closed curtain where the women sat. “Like where you left Layne’s shoe collection.”

“In the van.”

“Where’s that?”

Oaks gave him a look.

Carson groaned. He already knew it was a lost cause. Layne was never seeing those shoes again.

He pushed to his feet and waved at Oaks. “Let’s get your wife’s side of the story.”

Oaks was looking forward to this discussion even less than the one with his brother. When they moved the curtain aside, his gaze settled on her mane of blonde hair. Walking down the aisle toward his bride, he caught the white flutter of feathers and swung his head toward the vacant row. The white feathery dress was crumpled on the seat. A few feathers that had been ripped off danced on the floor as he passed.

Shiloh looked a hell of a lot more comfortable in black sweats and a black top. She also looked pale and drawn. When she glanced up at him, he noted the redness rimming her eyes.

There was no question she was a tough woman, but he’d seen military brothers crumble under the weight of stress.

He paused next to her. “Will you come talk to us?”

She snapped her head to glare at him. “Do you buy women often?” Her terse response was right in character. The shuddering breath she took was not.

Before he could say more, she stood, looking calm and sexy as fuck in those sweats. She was taller than Layne, and the sweats hung low on her hips while the top rode up her slim, toned abdomen.

In long strides, she took off to the back where he and Carson had just convened. Oaks followed, trying not to note the sway of her hips with each haughty step she took.

A moment later, Carson joined them, sitting beside Oaks with both of them facing Shiloh. After a little probing, she gave her version of the story, beginning with how she’d been dragged at gunpoint out of her apartment and shoved in the car by her ex.

“Did you know you were going to meet with the Russians?” Oaks asked her.

“I don’t even know who you are, let alone those people.” Her eyes seemed to have changed from blue to stormy blue-gray. The color of a sea about to erupt into deadly waves.

“It’s Malone.”

“That’s your last name—you gave it to me, remember? You were talking on the phone.”

“That’s for the flight register. We couldn’t take off without the pilot knowing who was onboard.” He held her stare. “And it’s Oaks. Oaks Malone.”

She didn’t respond to that. “No, I do not know those Russian men. Nor do I know anything about what they’re doing with my ex.”

She tucked the corner of her lush lips inward, a sure sign that she wasn’t telling them the full truth if he was any judge. “All I know is he was forcing me to marry him. Then I was married to you.”

Carson leaned forward. “Oaks, I take it you caught the address of that house?”

“Of course. And a few photos too. But they’re blurry. We’ll have to wait to clean them up so we can run them through facial recognition.”

Shiloh’s gaze settled on him. “I can clean up the pictures.”

“You have experience?” Oaks asked.

“I know tech. I just need a laptop.”

Oaks sent his brother a look, then he got up to rummage through an overhead compartment. A minute later he held out a laptop in a sleek black case.

Shiloh took it. “Thank you.” She immediately opened the device and had it up and running. As she ran through some screens, it was apparent to Oaks that she possessed skills. When she ran through a few more, she did it so fast that he missed what she was doing.

She opened an app and pressed her index finger to the fingerprint scanner on the laptop, adding hers.

“What are you doing?” He hovered over her.

She shot him a sidelong look. The app closed and another opened. “It’s my photo software. Send the pics to the laptop and I’ll get them cleaned up so we can end this and I can move on with my life.”