Dare Me (Take Me Series Book 2) Read online

  Dare Me

  Take Me Series: Book 2

  Calista Fox

  Contents

  About this Book

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Take Me (Book 1 in the Take Me Series)

  Also From Calista Fox

  About Calista Fox

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  Dare Me

  Cover Art Copyright © 2020 by CFEN

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64197-203-1

  NYLA Publishing

  121 W. 27th St., Suite 1201

  New York, NY 10001

  About this Book

  Book 2 in the Take Me Series

  By Calista Fox

  “When people start vanishing, it can get very dangerous for anyone asking too many questions. Do you understand?”

  Dr. Nikki Kane has established a network of psychiatric and legal professionals to travel globally in response to epic catastrophes and to aid search and rescue teams. On her way now to Switzerland for her latest quest, she’s left behind a mystery—the disappearance of a devastatingly handsome hero in a series of blasts that rocked Mexico City. But when he ends up in the seat next to her in first class… Nikki has to immediately question who he is—and whether his intentions are as dark and dangerous as she fears.

  Damen Castillo also wants answers. How did Nikki end up with a device lodged in her laptop’s USB port that not only contains vital data that will lead him to a terrorist cell, but which is also tracking their whereabouts right this very second.

  Who is she and why the hell can’t he resist the stunning redhead? With a deadly threat closing in on them and their scorching-hot chemistry blazing between them, Nikki and Damen buckle up for one tumultuous—and sexy—ride.

  Prologue

  (Excerpt from the end of Book One: Take Me)

  Dr. Nikki Kane sucked down two glasses of Sangiovese in the first-class lounge before her flight to New York, a brief layover before she flew to Switzerland to meet up with a Search and Rescue team following a tragic train wreck that had killed many and injured more. She snacked on some cheese and crackers. Checked her emails and had her virtual assistant rearrange a few things on her schedule to accommodate this impromptu trip.

  She was desperate to immerse herself in work. To feel the sense of accomplishment when she provided disaster-relief aid by helping a survivor through their mental trauma and assisted family members in coping with their loss. It was what blocked out her own pain and righted her axis.

  Tucking her laptop in her tote and snagging a few mini bags of pretzels, she left the lounge five minutes before her flight was about to pre-board.

  Nikki considered that it would have been ideal to spend Christmas in Mexico City with her dear friends Kate and Jude McMillan, who were both members of her international, mobile psychiatric and legal team. A healthy and sane alternative to accepting the invitation her father and his new-ish and much-younger wife (even younger than Nikki) had extended. Though, she’d instantly taken a pass on that particular catastrophe-in-the-making by committing to this new assignment.

  It was infinitely more gratifying to serve people in need vs. fighting the compulsion to heave at the sight of her dad and Babs fawning all over each other.

  A shudder ran through Nikki at that latter thought.

  The holidays didn’t use to be this tedious. Her mother had always done them up right, going completely overboard on decorations that were so breathtaking and glittery, it typically took a couple of weeks to assimilate to not seeing wall-to-wall bling after they came down and were boxed away following New Year’s Eve. In addition, there was always the perfect excess of food and decadent treats and ever-flowing liquid cheer.

  But following the divorce, her mother had abandoned traditional holiday celebrations and now vacay’d in Maui or the Maldives when one rolled around. Nikki had considered meeting up with her for an island adventure this year. But then two trains had collided, half of the cars had jumped the tracks and plummeted a thousand feet and…duty had called.

  She reached her gate just as an airline agent was opening the door for passengers with special needs to board, followed by first class.

  She settled into her window seat and continued to scroll through emails and texts on her phone, while also accepting a glass of wine from the flight attendant. Nikki planned to spend the night in New York—in the city, rather than traveling out to her Long Island estate, since she’d be on another plane, leaving the country, in the morning.

  The overnighter would allow her the chance to simply drop off gifts for her father and Babs without having to make formal arrangements to meet with them, get trapped at a party they were hosting or engage in lengthy conversations, most of which involved her stepmother’s valiant effort to single-handedly keep Barney’s, Bloomingdale’s and Bergdorf’s in business with her marathon shopping sprees.

  And, admittedly, Nikki was hoping to avoid the day her father sprang “good news” on her and told her she was about to be an older sister.

  Oh, my fucking God.

  She’d be the one needing therapy.

  With a shake of her head to dislodge the harrowing thought of her father passing out cigars and sipping brandy over his masculine feat, Nikki instead concentrated on finding a little Zen.

  She enjoyed her wine and pretzels. The first-class cabin filled up and, in her peripheral vision while she still viewed her phone, she noted her row-mate had arrived. His back was to her as he stowed his rollaboard in an overhead bin across the aisle. He shed his suit jacket and the attendant offered to hang it for him, batting her eyelash extensions, so he must be something to look at.

  Might make for an interesting trip to the States.

  From what she could tell, without turning her head to get the full visual, he wore black dress pants that fit his ass quite well. His waist tapered and then V’d to a wide back and broad shoulders. He folded the sleeves of his sky-blue shirt along his forearms as the pretty blonde returned and inquired of his choice of beverage.

  “Scotch, neat. Thanks,” he told her in a congenial tone that was
deep and rich and likely sounded like pure sin in the privacy of a bedroom.

  Nikki suppressed a moan—that actually turned into an inward groan.

  It was not like her to have sex on the mind. But lately…

  She ignored the tickle along her clit and the tingling of her skin as her row-mate settled into his seat…and she caught the hint of an expensive, exotic cologne mixed with enticing male heat.

  She crossed her legs to combat the more insistent throbbing she now felt deep in her core.

  What the hell was that all about?

  She wouldn’t deny she needed to get laid. But scratching an itch for the sake of scratching an itch wasn’t her thing.

  And Nikki still wasn’t prepared to move on from Conner, the love of her life, her heroic husband, who had died during a search and rescue mission.

  Thus, she kept her gaze on a lengthy email thread she was trying to get through—if only her mind weren’t wandering in all the wrong directions!

  She reached for her glass again and sipped. Tried really hard not to deeply inhale the inviting, titillating scent wafting her way, which evidently served as some sort of chick-magnet because the attendant continued to interrupt the flow of coach-cabin passengers now boarding in order to check on the gentleman next to Nikki.

  “Would you like a little more scotch, Mr. Castillo?”

  “Thank you, but no. I’m fine.”

  “Just let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  Nikki resisted a snicker. And the urge to steal a full-on glance at the stranger beside her.

  As the flow resumed, he leaned ever-so-slightly her way and murmured, “Must be fascinating reading.”

  “It’s work,” she said, undeterred.

  “I should probably dive into mine as well.” His accent was more Portuguese than Spanish, a lush sound that was warm and textured. Scintillating. “Though I also brought a book with me. One you might enjoy… A Tale of Two Cities…”

  Her gaze snapped up from her phone and landed on the back of the seat of the row before her. Her heart nearly stopped.

  Slowly, Nikki turned her head.

  Stared into the deepest, most mesmeric cerulean eyes she’d ever seen and whispered, “Nico.”

  1

  “Actually, it’s Damen. If you don’t mind…”

  His hair was different—more neatly trimmed, but the longish bangs remained, curving at his temples. Beckoning her to sweep the luxurious strands back with her fingertips. As she’d secretly done a few times in the hospital when she’d read that particular book to him while he was in a medically induced coma, healing from substantial injuries.

  He still had the bandage on his forehead and a bruise on his squared jaw from the explosions that had rocked Mexico City.

  He’d been Nico Valdiviesio a week ago.

  Now, he was Damen Castillo?

  And he was sitting right next to her.

  Nikki’s pulse jumped.

  Who was this hotter-than-hell guy, really?

  Jude’s cautious voice instantly resonated in her mind: When someone vanishes the way Nico did and then people who surrounded him vanish, too… It can get very dangerous for anyone asking too many questions. Do you understand?

  Yeah, she did.

  And ominously wondered if she’d already crossed that line…

  “How the hell are you sitting next to me on an airplane?” Nikki carefully, apprehensively asked.

  Damen tore his penetrating gaze from her and took a long drink from his glass, draining it.

  “You do know who I am, right?” she quietly demanded.

  He held the tumbler in his hand, twisting his wrist as he examined the spectrum of light the cut-crystal created as sunrays filtered in from the window, hitting the glass at various angles.

  Nikki’s hand shot out and she jerked the shade down, cutting off the spectacle that momentarily held him spellbound.

  His gaze returned to her. He grinned.

  “You have a lot of questions. I’m prepared to answer…some of them. Once we’re in the air.”

  “Oh, no,” she said as she leaned forward and snatched her laptop bag from under the seat in front of her. “I’m not flying back to the States with you. Whatever the fuck you’re involved with, I don’t want to be mistaken for an accomplice. In fact… I don’t want to know a damn thing about you.”

  Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Her inquisitive mind was going bat-shit crazy at the moment, as she experienced a tug-o-war of emotions. Part of her needed to know what the hell was going on—and what sort of danger she’d unwittingly found herself in. The other part of her wanted to drown in his deep-blue irises.

  Seriously?

  That was what she was thinking of at a time like this?

  What is wrong with you?

  Maybe he’d paid the flight attendant to slip something into her drink.

  She instantly dislodged that thought from her mind. Forced herself to get a grip.

  From beside her, Damen Castillo very casually said, “You can’t get off the plane.”

  “Watch me.”

  He smirked, knowingly. The plane began to move. They were pushing back from the gate.

  Son of a bitch!

  The first-class flight attendant appeared at Damen’s elbow to collect their glasses. She spied Nikki with her bag in her hand and said, “I’m so sorry. You’re going to have to replace your carry-on under the seat. And shut down your phone, of course. We’re taxying, and international travel rules state—”

  Blah, blah, blah.

  Oh, for the everlasting love of God!

  The flight attendant moved on.

  Nikki wanted to scream.

  Perhaps she should scream.

  What if this guy was some sort of international criminal?

  Oh. Shit!

  Her eyes bulged.

  Damen held up his hands, in surrender, as though he knew the direction in which her thoughts had just rampantly run.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m one of the good guys.”

  “Anyone can say that,” she countered. And instantly shifted into trauma mode. She was trained to operate in stressful situations, to remain calm and collected—yet this scenario was ratcheting her pulse with every second that passed.

  “The flight attendant knows who I am,” he told Nikki. “I had to be cleared, because I have a weapon. As do the two FBI agents onboard. One is sitting in the row behind us. The other is a couple rows ahead.”

  “You’re FBI?” she challenged, under her breath.

  “No. But I am with the U.S. government. Special ops.”

  Nikki gave a slight shake of her head. “Bullshit. You wouldn’t tell that to a complete stranger.”

  “You’re not a complete stranger, Nikita Isabelle Balentine-Kane.”

  She gaped. For all of two seconds. Then said, “This can’t be happening.”

  “It wouldn’t be happening,” he told her with conviction in his hypnotic blue eyes and his deep, intimate tone, “if you hadn’t wandered into my hospital room. If I hadn’t heard your sultry voice as I was coming out of the coma. If you hadn’t asked every soul under that roof if they knew where I’d gone—and gotten your friends involved in the search.”

  “Oh, my God.” She knew she’d instantly paled. “Kate and Jude!”

  “Are perfectly fine, perfectly safe. There’s currently no danger to them, Ms. Kane. Or to you… As long as you relax. Answer my questions—”

  “Your questions?” she belted back. A bit loudly so a few heads snapped in their direction.

  Neither she nor Damen spoke for several minutes and the curious gazes drifted away.

  Damen told her, “My involvement with the explosions in Mexico City was to determine who was plotting to blow up that block—and why.”

  Her gaze narrowed on him. Nikki had never vacillated between the fight or flight instinct—it’d always been to fight. How ironic the latter was going to be her destiny this time, because the plane was
speeding down the runway, the wheels were lifting off the ground… And before she could form a plan in her rapidly whirling brain, they were airborne.

  “Asshole,” she muttered.

  “No, Ms. Kane. I’m not.” He eased back in his seat while saying, “I’m going to reach into my pocket and show you my ID.”

  “Which I’m just supposed to accept as being real?” She scoffed.

  “I admire your skepticism,” he told her. “Misguided, though it is.” He did as he’d indicated and pulled out his wallet, very quickly and discreetly flashing his credentials.

  Her eyes returned to his and she studied him for a long moment before saying, “I don’t know what QTango Ops means. Pretty sure no one else does, either.”

  “Note the Defense Intelligence Agency insignia, Ms. Kane. That’s what’s most important here.”

  Her teeth ground over his amused tone. And the fact that she detected a hint of a French accent around the fringes. As well as an Irish one.

  What the hell?

  Nikki would have summoned the flight attendant to confirm the other woman truly did know about Damen and the supposed agents, but she was strapped into her jump-seat behind the wall separating the galley from the cabin as the plane soared toward the desired altitude.