LITMIR.BIZ

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him, or witness the torture of her precious dogs.

      Panchart! Bastard.

      She’d stopped laughing and started calculating the LGB. Likelihood of Getting Bitten.

      To Alek, Katarina would only ever be a prized horse to trot around his friends whenever the mood struck. He would do nothing but make her miserable. But her dogs needed her. They had no one else.

      The problem? If she saved the dogs today, Alek could hurt them tomorrow. Or any day after. He would continue threatening their welfare to control her.

      But, if she saved them today, she would gain time. Time she could use to hide them. If ever she found them. Alek had hidden them.

      His guards watched her every second of every day, but twice she’d managed to sneak out of her suite to search the estate. She’d been caught both times, no closer to success.

      I’m going to get bitten one way or another, aren’t I?

      Throughout her childhood, she’d helped her father with the family business, training drug-detection and home-protection dogs. After high school graduation, she’d taken the reins of control. And despite the added weight of responsibility, she’d used her free time to rehabilitate the aggressive, abused fighters the rest of the world had deemed too dangerous.

      Three of those victims—Faith, Hope and Love—had been so deformed most people hadn’t had the cojones to look at them, much less to offer a forever home. So Katarina had adopted the trio as her personal pets, pouring her heart and soul into giving them the happily ever after they’d always deserved; they adored her for it.

      Then Alek kidnapped them and held them for ransom. He’d also vowed to hunt down every dog she’d ever worked with—one bullet to the brain.

      She loved her canines, remembered every name, every tragedy they’d suffered in their young lives, and every personality quirk. More than that? A trainer always protected her charges.

      A lesson her father had taught her.

      Mr. Baker—a sniveling coward on Alek’s payroll who’d gotten ordained online—cleared his throat. “Your vows, Miss Joelle.”

      “Mrs. Ciernik,” Alek snapped.

      She smiled without humor. “Not yet.” Can I really do this?

      He scowled at her, and she rubbed her thumb over the words tattooed on her wrist. Once upon a time...

      A tribute to her Slovakian mother, a woman who’d had the courage to marry an American dog trainer despite their different backgrounds and skin colors, even despite their language barrier. Edita Joelle had fancied fairy tales, and every night, after she’d read one to Katarina, she’d sighed dreamily.

      Beauty can be found in ugliness. Never forget.

      Katarina hadn’t really liked the stories. A princess in distress rescued by a prince? No! Sometimes you needed to wait for a miracle, but sometimes you needed to be the miracle.

      Right now, she could find no beauty in Alek. Could see no miracle in the works.

      Did it really matter? She was the author of her own story—she decided the twists and turns—and often what seemed to be the end was actually a new beginning. Every new beginning had the potential to be her happily-ever-after.

      No question, today marked the start of a new beginning. A new story. Perhaps, like the fairy tales of old, it would end in blood and death, but it would end.

      I can endure anything for a short time.

      Strong fingers curved around her jaw and lifted her head. Her gaze locked on Alek, who looked at her with a shudder-inducing mix of lust and anger.

      “Say your vows, princezná.”

      She despised the nickname. She wasn’t pampered or helpless. She worked hard, and she worked often. Many of her patrons had called her a stay-at-home dog mom. A compliment. Mothers worked harder than anyone.

      And I love my babies. Dogs were better company than most people, period. Better than Alek, definitely.

      “You make me wait at your own peril,” he said.

      Quiet words, clear promise.

      She wrenched free of his hold. He was a plague upon mankind, and she would never pretend otherwise. Especially when she should be wedding Peter, her childhood sweetheart.

      Peter, who had always joked, always laughed.

      Sorrow spurred her on. “With you, everything is at my peril.”

      This man had already ruined her. Dominik had spent her money on drugs, draining her accounts, before selling the kennel to Alek, who’d burned it down.

      His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. He might like the look of her, but he’d never appreciated her honesty.

      Fun fact: provoking him had become her only source of joy.

      “I’m not sure you understand the great honor I bestow upon you, Katarina. Other women would kill to be in your position.”

      Maybe. Probably. With his pale hair, dark eyes and chiseled features, he looked like an angel. But those other women failed to see the monster lurking within...until too late.

      Katarina had seen it from the beginning, and her lack of interest had challenged him. There was no other reason a five-foot-eleven man—who’d only ever dated short women in an effort to appear taller—would take a fancy to someone his same height.

      Though she’d always been a jeans-and-tennis-shoes kind of girl, she had a feeling she would soon develop a love of stilettos.

      “Honor?” she finally replied. His last three girlfriends had died in suspicious ways. Drowning, car wreck and drug overdose. “That’s the word you think applies?”

      “Great honor.”

      Alek liked to tell his business associates Katarina was his mail-order bride. And in a way, she was. A year ago, he’d wanted to buy home protection dogs from a fellow Slovak. He’d come across the Pes Denˇ website and discovered she was known for training the best of the best. Rather than filling out an application, as required, he’d flown out to meet her.

      After only one conversation, she’d suspected he would abuse her animals. So she’d refused him.

      Soon afterward, Peter died in a filthy alleyway, the victim of a seemingly random mugging.

      And soon after that, her brother was invited to join Alek’s import/export business—importing drugs and prostitútky to the States, exporting millions in cash to be hidden or laundered. Not surprisingly, Dominik quickly developed an addiction to Alek’s heroin.

      Just another way to manipulate me.

      When Alek summoned her to his estate in New York—Dominik owes me thousands. You will come and pay his debt—she’d once again refused him. Later in the week, Midnight, a cherished mountain dog, was poisoned. She’d known Dominik—and thereby Alek—was to blame. The once-abused canine wouldn’t have taken a treat from anyone else.

      She’d quickly found homes for the other dogs. But her fool of a brother had known the few people she trusted, and had given Alek their locations in exchange for a reduced debt. Always one step ahead.

      “I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” she said, hating him, hating this, “and it has nothing to do with honor.”

      Mr. Baker backed out of striking distance.

      Alek grabbed her by the neck, squeezing hard enough to restrict her airway. “Be very careful how you proceed, princezná. This can be a good day for you, or a very bad one.”

      “Your vows,” Mr. Baker rushed out. “Say them.”

      Alek gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.

      Breathing in...out...she skipped her wild gaze around the chapel. Armed

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