Kidnapped: A Criminal Deeds Novel

by Kyle Autumn

  “I fixed the dishwasher over a year ago,” I growl in a whisper, “so why are you handwashing the dishes?”

  She slowly twists to face me, still within my embrace. Then she presses her pussy against me. “Well, your dirty talk needs a little work,” she says, hitching a leg around my waist. “But the glove is a nice touch. Kidnapping me?”

  “Yep. For the whole night,” I confirm. “I’m stealing you from the kitchen and tying you to the bed. You’ll be my prisoner of love.”

  Her loud laughter fills the air. She laughs with her whole body, and the scene fills me with love. I could watch her laugh forever. But my dick has other plans for this evening now that we have some time alone.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love and adore my son. He’s my little man, and he’s growing up so fast. I can’t wait to teach Caden how to ride a bike and throw a ball and even build a house down the road. But for the love of all that’s holy, my wife and her lithe body need my full attention tonight.

  Without warning, I scoop her off her feet and haul us both to the bedroom. Once we’re there, I toss her onto the bed and then start removing clothing. While I do that, she rolls onto her side and reaches into the drawer of the table next to her side of the bed. She pulls black satin strips from the drawer and holds them out in front of her.

  I freeze in the middle of unbuttoning my shirt. “You’re prepared? You knew what I was going to do?” Then I put the pedal to the metal and finish undressing.

  Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she draws her big toe up her bare leg. “I was hoping for it.”

  “Fantasizing about it?” I ask as I crawl up the bed toward her.

  “You bet.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, her tongue peeking out to tangle with mine.

  I lift her shirt above her head before tossing it onto the floor and working on removing her shorts. Once those and her panties are gone, I have every intention of tying my woman up like she wants, but neither of us seems to want to waste the time. Instead, we dive toward each other, the black satin strips forgotten as they fall off the bed.

  I drag my fingers down her stomach as we kiss. When I land between her lips, I find her wet and ready for me, and she moans for good measure. Once my fingers enter her tight heat, she shouts my name like she did the first time I made her come on my tongue—which I plan to do tonight as well.

  Right now, though, I need to be inside her. We find stolen moments here and there, but we’ll have the whole night to take advantage of. So I line myself up with her opening and push right in.

  Holy. Fuck. It’s like magic, being inside Ali.

  Beads of sweat form on our bodies as I thrust inside her. Her nails dig into my back as she bites my shoulder and bucks in time with the rhythm I’ve set. All too soon, we’re both finishing on loud moans, and at least one of us is plotting the second round.

  But Ali halts my thoughts when she puts her hand on my cheek and smiles up at me. “Hey. I have something to show you.”

  “It can’t wait?” I groan, softening inside her.

  She presses her lips together into a smile and shakes her head. “Nope.” She pops the P on the end as she so often does. Then she reaches over to her bedside table drawer again.

  When she hands me a piece of paper, I take it from her hand and study it. In the photo, Caden is sitting on a blanket, laughing and about to clap his hands. Trees take up the background, so I assume this photo was taken at the park by our house.

  A smile tilts my lips as my heart melts for my little man. “Was this taken today?” I ask her.

  “Yeah,” she replies, touching the center of the photo. “But you’re not seeing the important part.”

  I bring the photo closer to my face and pay more attention to the part she pointed at. There’s wording on my son’s shirt, so I squint to read it.

  And practically jump out of my skin.

  “No fucking way,” I gasp. Then I lower the photo and eye my wife suspiciously. “Seriously?”

  She nods, a huge smile splitting her lips. “I went to the doctor today to make sure and everything.”

  “How far along are you?” Because that’s the question you ask when your son was photographed wearing a Big Brother shirt.

  “Nine weeks,” she tells me.

  My heart beats faster in my chest as I stare at my gorgeous wife in awe. I’m going to be a father. Again.

  Ali and I have created yet another life that will be born into love, kindness, and respect—not things we were afforded for a long time in our own lives. And Ali is that great mother I thought she’d be, so the image of her with a huge, round belly with my baby inside has me rock solid and pumping into my wife.

  Slowly this time. Savoring every moment.

  “I fucking love you,” I tell her as I thrust inside her. Then I pause and aim my gaze at my beautiful woman. “I love our life.”

  With her soft hands covering my stubbly cheeks, she says, “I do too.” Tears form in her eyes, so I kiss them away. “I wasn’t sure I could do this, but I’m so thankful you let Jane tie you up to that chair so I could make new memories with you.”

  By the end of her little speech we’re both laughing. Then I set out to finish what I started a few moments ago.

  Because what we started two years ago when we were alone, lonely, and on the run has turned into the biggest blessing I couldn’t have ever asked for before I’d met her. I had no idea I was capable of love until I’d hit rock bottom and done the unthinkable. But her kindness—and, let’s be honest, her fucked-up fantasy—led us here. To a place where we can be the people we are without judgment. To a place where we don’t have to run anymore.

  Instead, we run to each other and then stay in place, trusting that we’re everything we’ll ever need. And, so far, we have been. I have every confidence that it’ll stay that way.

  Some fantasies do come true. And some become reality when you didn’t even know you wanted them.

  Thankfully, life had bigger plans than the ones we thought we’d have to live with.

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  Sneak Peek of Book 2

  “Chased”

  Chapter 1

  Jared

  I should be focusing on having fun here in Vegas. My buddy is getting married in two weeks, and we’re here to celebrate. To have a good time. To be guys for the weekend. So my head should be here, in this bar, with my two friends.

  But it’s not. It never is.

  “Dude!” Devin shouts over the music, clasping a hand on my shoulder and shaking me. “Where the hell are you? We’re surrounded by women who might give your ugly mug a second glance, but all you can do is stare at your beer like it might grow legs.”

  Micah nods as if showing his agreement with his brother’s assessment. “You’re the only guy in here facing away from the women on stage. It’s noticeable.”

  I shrug Devin’s hand off, but I don’t deny what he said. Obviously, I already knew I was doing that. But his words won’t be enough to shake me out of this. I’ve been like this for months, and there’s only one cure for this funk I’m in. But it’s not like it’ll appear out of thin air or fall into my lap by thought alone. Hell, if that were the case, I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.

  But, well, here I am.

  “Honestly, man.” Devin sits on the barstool next to mine again, palming his own drink. “If I’d known that you’d be such a downer, I would have told you to stay home. Or we could have just done this another time.”

  Okay, that affects me more than I expect it to. I’m ruining his last outing as an unmarried man, and that was never my intention. But he of all people should know what it’
s like when a woman shows up in your life and completely wrecks and ruins you. When she’s all you can think about, to the point where you’d rather stay home from work just in case she calls so you won’t miss it.

  It’s pathetic, but at least I know he can relate. That doesn’t mean I’ll tell him a fucking thing though. Instead, I take a deep breath and then another swig of my beer. I roll my shoulders back and tilt my head from side to side to crack my neck. If anything will get me out of a woman-induced funk, maybe it’s another woman.

  We happen to be in the perfect place to find one. There’s absolutely no shortage of gorgeous women in Vegas—the club included. It’s just too bad that they all look like her when I look them in the eyes.

  “Okay,” I mutter before going back to my drink to drain it. Then I slam the bottle onto the bar and turn around in my stool to face the crowd. “Fine.”

  Micah raises an eyebrow at me. “Well, with that attitude…”

  Devin laughs, which only makes me grumpier. So I glare at both of them and spin back around to order another drink.

  “Come on, man. Just have some fun,” Devin insists. “That’s all I want. A weekend with my brothers.” After a pause, he adds, “And maybe for you to stop being such an ornery asshole.”

  “I can drink to that,” his brother says, lifting his drink up into the air.

  “Both of you can fuck off,” I grumble before ordering a round of shots.

  When the bartender drops the three shot glasses off, I down one after the other instead of sharing. Fuck that. If they want me to “have some fun,” then I have to forget. And we happen to be in the perfect place to make that happen, too. All the alcohol in the world couldn’t make me permanently forget, but maybe for a few minutes, I could have a break.

  Honestly, at this point, what could that hurt?

  “Okay, man. Maybe that’s the last shot of the night,” Devin says, which earns him another glare.

  “Seriously. Which one is it? Have fun or be an ornery asshole?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Look, I’m just saying that I don’t know if drunk-as-fuck Jared is also an ornery asshole. It may not be one or the other.”

  Even though he has a point, I don’t care. I turn my attention to the main stage as the speakers pump out a song with so much bass that it feels like it takes over beating for my heart. On the stage, a young woman’s grinding on a pole, her outfit covering about five percent of her body—and that’s being generous. But that kind of thing doesn’t interest me. Not that Devin or Micah would know that. And that’s not for their lack of trying to get it out of me.

  “I don’t understand why you wanted to do this,” I mumble over to Devin.

  He gives me a look from the corner of his eye, but he gets what I’m saying. I know he does. Because no one in their right mind forgets that they have a woman like Nicola at home. Or, in Micah’s case, a woman like Annie.

  Micah, however, sides me with me this time. “That’s a good point, man.” He tips the top of his beer at his brother. “I could be at home, in bed, probably naked, with Annie on top of—”

  Devin reaches past me and shoves his brother’s shoulder. “We all know, bro. God damn.”

  We do. We really do. He and Annie just got together a few months ago and it’s all about the nonstop sex with them. If I never hear about it again, it’ll be too soon.

  “Well,” Micah says before taking a drink, “what you don’t know is that I’m going to ask her if we can move in together.”

  Damn. I didn’t realize it was getting so serious. Micah isn’t the move-in type.

  When Devin goes to reply, the emcee makes an announcement over the loudspeaker and interrupts him. The woman who was dancing before collects her dollars and then prances off the stage. Then the room goes dark for a moment and a new woman appears on stage. Devin starts talking to answer his brother, but yet again, I feel like I’m staring into her eyes as I watch the new dancer approach the pole.

  Something in the curve of her body reminds me of her more than any other woman in here. The way she moves, the grace she has as she strikes a pose. But it’s the way she carries herself—like there’s a dark cloud hanging over her head and, any minute now, rain will pour down—that draws me in unlike anything else. And, when I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, I still see her face. It doesn’t go away when I rub them, either.

  “Yo, dude. Did you hear me?” Devin elbows me in the arm. “I think we’re gonna take off.”

  Micah gets up and throws some cash onto the bar for a tip. “You ready, man?”

  But I only hear them because Devin drew me in. I wave them off and mutter something like, “I’ll catch you guys later,” before I take off, making a beeline for the stage. I have to get closer. I have to see if this woman really is her or if I’m just that far gone. Too delusional for my own good. And, if that’s the case, I probably shouldn’t be here alone, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.

  By the time I make it to the stage, the dancer’s time up there is over. She snatches up her clothes, hops off, and heads to the bar in the back, and like a stalker, I follow her. But the alcohol is buzzing through my veins now, taking over for me like I have no choice but to follow this woman. If she is her, I have to know why the fuck she’s stripping in Vegas and not living a quiet life in Ohio like I thought she was. Which is all the more reason why this probably isn’t her. Yet I can’t quit my mission to find out until I know for sure.

  My brain is likely fucking with me, but I swear I can smell her. Her, not just this woman. Even though most of our communication has been online, there was that small stretch of time a few months ago when we were together. I still haven’t gotten the scent of lavender out of that sweatshirt she wore—not that I’ve really tried. And, now, a lavender trail leads me right to the woman in question.

  When I reach the bar, she’s behind it, her back to me. So I study her for a moment, knowing she won’t be able to leave without getting by me.

  Her short, shiny, black bob is vastly different than the long, flowing curls she had when we were together. The curve of her neck and her shoulders, though, looks identical to the image of her seared on my brain. The slope of her back is also so familiar. And it ends at the base of her spine, where a small, all-black tattoo on the side of her hip rocks my world off its axis.

  Because, with that sight, I have no doubt who she is.

  And the adrenaline rushing through my veins leaves no room for the millions of questions I want to throw her way. Except for one. Only one flies right out of my mouth before I can stop it. Honestly, it’s the only one I need to ask right now. I can get to the others later. But, for now…

  “Caroline?”

  Caroline

  My entire body goes rigid when I hear a man call my real name behind me. A name I haven’t heard in months. My spine stiffens as I freeze, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Only a handful of people would call me that, but the voice that said it leaves a single name on that short list.

  Why is Jared here, and how did he recognize me?

  Oh, shit. My tattoo.

  I want to run, but given where the voice came from, I doubt I’ll be able to get around him. So I breathe in deep and try to focus on what the hell I’m going to do now. This is the last place I wanted him to find me—and it’s truly the last place I thought he would. He’s not the strip-club-in-Vegas type, but it seems to have attracted him somehow anyway. And, now, I’m going to have to face that.

  “I’m gonna take a break,” I manage to tell James through the panic coursing through my body.

  While filling a shot glass with whiskey, he nods. “Make it quick though,” he demands, his voice gruff. “You’re back on in twenty.”

  I don’t bother with a reply. Once I give Jared some of my time, I can guarantee I won’t be back on that stage in twenty minutes. In fact, my entire life is probably about to blow up because he found me here. So I don’t know what the next twenty
minutes of my life will look like, but I can see a clear picture of what my life won’t look like after that.

  “Caroline?” Jared repeats before I can turn around. “That’s you, isn’t it.”

  It’s not a question. And it’s not quite an accusation. It’s just a statement; he knows who I am and that’s that.

  If James hears him and knows he’s talking to me, he doesn’t show it. And I don’t stick around long enough for it to happen again. I don’t need him finding out more about me than I want him to. Or anyone else, for that matter. This place is a breeding ground for drama, and I don’t want to be the center of the next case.

  So, as I start walking toward Jared, I keep my head ducked so I don’t make eye contact. Then I pass him, though it takes everything in me not to run into his arms. His strong, familiar arms. Arms I’ve dreamt about wrapping around me and making this whole situation disappear. But no. That’s the easy way out. And everyone knows I don’t do anything the easy way.

  If I did, I wouldn’t be here right now. None of this would be happening. Too bad for me that I don’t realize I’m doing things the hard way until I’ve done them.

  I know he’ll follow me, but with my hand at my side, I wave in a small movement for him to follow me for good measure. Just in case. So he knows that, yes, it’s me but he should keep his mouth shut.

  I weave my way through the crowd, desperately wanting to change my clothes—if they can even be called that—and dodge all of the leers from sleazy men. Generally, I’ve gotten used to it. This is what I do now, after all. But, with Jared right behind me, the stares feel like too much. They make me feel dirty and self-conscious, like I need a long, hot shower to scrub my skin clean until the water turns cold.