She glanced at the iPad. “How will you do that?”

His lip curled in disgust. “Our country will have a biological weapon and its cure. Everyone will fear us. We’d have the ability to wipe out our enemy without ever losing one of our soldiers. Just think of it. We could rid this world of every minority.”

She shuddered, disgusted by his evil. “And how were you going to do that with the virus? It’s not as if it can pick and choose whom it sickens.”

“No, but we can control who receives the cure,” he said, tapping his chest with two of his fingers. “The worthy Americans will remain safe while those less desirables will succumb to death by virus.”

Distracted by a scratching from outside on the porch, Hutton turned toward the noise. Trying not to think about being shot in the back, she dashed to the kitchen. With Hutton on her tail, she looked for a weapon and panicked, picking up the wine bottle from the counter. She swung it around, catching the senator on his temple. His body slammed to the floor, knocked out cold.

She didn’t wait for him to recover. She ran through the kitchen to the front door and flung it open. A dark figure filled the entryway. Before she could cry for help, a fist to her chest sent her careening back into her house. The door slammed shut for a second time, and the man she recognized from television as Senator Byron stomped toward her, menace gleaming in his eyes.

They were working together?

“I don’t understand,” she said, every breath painful to take as she sat up. She crossed her arms over her middle, sure she had broken a rib.

Senator Hutton rounded the corner from the kitchen and handed Byron the gun. “Every good political fight needs a hero and a villain. We agreed that my chances of winning the White House were better than his, so I got to be the hero this time and fight for our nation’s safety.”

She almost laughed. A Democrat and Republican working together. “And Rinaldi? How did he get involved?”

Byron slid his hand up and down the barrel of the gun. “Communicating through Evans and Fink, Hutton and I negotiated to have all charges dropped against Rinaldi in exchange for his help. He never even knew who he was really dealing with. Rinaldi had an African mafia contact in Kinshasa, the capital of Congo, which was previously known as Leopoldville. The Leopold virus still sickens their monkeys from time to time. For a great deal of money, the virus was extracted from one such animal, and scientists on my payroll turned it into a gas form. Once Evans and Fink knew where and when to expect the shipment of the virus, Rinaldi’s usefulness came to an end.”

Hutton stepped closer. “Just like yours.” He turned toward Byron. “She’s already turned over the computer data to Sawyer Hayes. We’ll have to eliminate him next.”

Fear that she’d never known flooded her veins. “What are you going to do with me?”

Hutton smiled. “Remember when I said I enjoyed torture?” He gestured to Byron. “Meet my torturer. He knows more ways to make you scream than you could count.”

Rachel knew enough to know there were worse things than death. She believed these men would have her begging them to kill her before they were finished with her. “Please don’t hurt me. I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she said, her voice coming out as though her throat was filled with gravel.

Byron laughed sadistically. “That’s what they always say.” He kept the gun trained on her as he spoke to his partner. “Hutton, go to the kitchen and bring me a knife while I take her into the bedroom. Let’s see if she can’t take it hard up the ass like you can. Then we can carve us a pretty picture using her flesh as our canvas and blood as our paint.”

Her tears and sweat dampened her T-shirt, and chills racked her body. She closed her eyes and imagined she was in Logan’s arms, safe and warm underneath the blankets. If she concentrated hard enough, she could smell him around her, feel his touch on her skin, taste his kisses on her lips. No matter what happened, she’d hold him close to her and know that before she died, at least for a little while, she’d been loved. Although he wasn’t there physically, she carried him in her heart and soul. He’d always be with her because she refused to let him go.

When Hutton went off to the kitchen, Byron yanked her off the floor and slapped her cheek, its sting waking her from the cocoon she’d created in her mind to protect herself. Clutching her nape, he pushed her through the house until he found her bedroom. Then he tossed her on the bed, facedown, and straddled her, his erection digging into her butt.

She wouldn’t go down without fighting. She’d rather die than endure rape and torture. She flailed her arms and legs, trying to throw him off. “No! No! Leave me alone.” His hands wrapped around her neck and tightened.

Her world went blurry around the edges and a buzzing sensation flooded her body.

“Get your hands off my wife.”

Dazed, she fought to stay conscious. Was that muffled voice really Logan’s or was she imagining him?

The hands around her loosened and she felt him shift on top of her. There was a loud blast that she heard even through the ringing in her ears from her lack of oxygen. The weight on top of her was gone, and then she heard the blast again, this time clearer as her lungs filled with air. Exhaustion didn’t keep her from rolling over to see what had happened.

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Logan kneeled over her, a gun in his hands. “Byron’s dead. He can’t hurt you.”

Forgetting about the pain in her ribs until she moved, she shot upright and looked on the floor beside the bed. Byron’s eyes were wide open, blood spreading across his chest in two different spots.

Logan didn’t know the danger wasn’t over. She grabbed him by the shoulders, her mouth moving but no words coming out. She swallowed, her throat bone-dry, and tried again. “Logan, Hutton’s in the kitchen.”

He held her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “Shh. I’ve already taken care of him. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. No one will. I won’t let them.”

“How did you know?” she said, her throat sounding as if it had been scratched by sandpaper.

“Lisa. She drove by to get her iPad and saw a man hanging out on your porch. She called me first to see if it was me, and then once she realized it wasn’t, she hung up and called the police. I got here quicker, but they’re on their way.”

She listened to his heart thumping under her ear and held him closer. “I’m sorry. You were right. Hutton got suspicious by my questions during the interview and saw the app on my phone. I shouldn’t have put myself in danger.”

He tipped up her chin. “No, don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were right. I was trying to control you. But you’re the strongest, bravest woman I know, and those are only a couple of the reasons I love you. And while it may kill me to know you’re putting yourself in danger, I respect the hell out of you for it. Besides, it couldn’t be any worse than living without you. I love you, Rachel Bradford. Tell me you forgive me.”

She softly pressed her lips to his in a promise of more to come. “There’s nothing to forgive. I love you too.” She smiled. “But now, I’ve got a story to report.”

Epilogue

Three months later . . .

“I NOW PRONOUNCE you husband and wife, Master and collared slave,” the reverend said into the microphone. “You may now kiss and seal your vow to one another.”

Underneath the clear blue sky, the two hundred wedding guests stood and clapped loudly. Hundreds of colorful butterflies were released into the air, their wings spread wide as they soared toward freedom. The orchestra played Vivaldi’s “Summer” as the handsome groom yanked his wife closer by her sparkling diamond collar and kissed the hell out of her in a display of ownership. When he pulled away, he dropped to his knees and tenderly kissed her swollen belly, gazing up at the love of his life with wonder.