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what Xavier would have done to her if Phay hadn't intervened. Not that Phay listened to his own commands. He apparently led his cartel by the "do as I say, not as I do" motto. A bone-deep shiver ran through her. Every time he touched her, she wanted to cut off his fingers one by one, see how he liked it. After all, she watched him give the order to—
    Rhonda cut off the thought as bile burned her throat. It wouldn't do her any good to remember what Phay was capable of. It wouldn't do her any good to dwell on those horrors, to become centralized in the pain, to let the echoes of the screams take over her thoughts. She needed to stay focused on her goal, on getting out of this prison alive, on getting back to Lucas.
    She threw her head back as tears welled and the fear twisted another knot in her belly. Phay knew about Lucas. The kingpin brought her son into the conversation at every opportunity. He did it casually, as if he cared for Lucas, as if he wanted to get to know her boy. Gods, sometimes he talked about Lucas as if he wanted to be her boy's father! She didn't dare volunteer any more information than absolutely necessary and didn't question Phay on how much he knew that she didn't supply. What if the drug lord went after her son? It wouldn't be the first time Phay kidnapped a child to get to his mark.
    "He doesn't need Lucas." She whispered the reassurance, needing to hear as much as feel it, and lifted her head. "He has you."
    Which meant Michael must be Phay's mark this time. She tried to convince the kingpin Michael wouldn't come for her. He didn't want her. The truth of that sliced a far deeper wound in her heart than it should. She didn't want to care, didn't want to want him. But she knew she had been sunk the moment she gazed into his exotic eyes. She just hadn't been in a position to admit it. When that position changed, she hadn't wanted to admit it. She knew he would destroy the life she struggled to build, the one where she stood strong and depended only on herself. She needed time to adjust, time to learn to live again. He promised her that time, offered her a friendship, and she let him in. The friendship lasted only a few months before he walked away, leaving her destroyed and longing.
    Her gaze landed once more on the bed. This time she didn't see the images of Xavier's brawny frame stretched on top of her that kept her from sleeping. She saw Michael leaning against the headboard, white shirt unbuttoned to expose a chest of dark, wiry hair and rippling muscle, and lips tilted in a smile that offered a world of comfort and promise. His exotic eyes fell down her in a slow glide that drank her in as though it were a straw and she was his favorite beverage.
    She remembered that look from their very first meeting. It sparked the same tingling effect on her now that it did that long-ago day in the cereal aisle of the Wal-Mart Super Center. He held out his left hand, and she moved to take it. His long fingers enveloped her hand, the pad of his thumb skimming over the backs of her fingers. Awareness danced up her arm.
    "Things aren't always as they appear, Rhonda . "
    Rhonda heard the words, felt the smooth slide of his voice over her flesh like whipped cream, and blinked. The image disappeared. She found herself standing by the bedside, her left hand stupidly extended, fingers curled as if she held his hand in hers.
    "Great, now I'm losing it."
    She pushed the hand through her hair and sank to her knees where she stood. Funny her vision of him would say those words to her. They were the same words she had said to him when they first met, when he used a left handshake to nonchalantly see if she wore a wedding ring. She hadn't, though she'd still been married to Preston at the time. Hence the reason she made that statement. Things aren't always as they appear. Why would she envision him saying it now?
    Mind reeling, muscles exhausted, she stretched out on the floor. She couldn't sleep, couldn't even lie, in the