by Brynley Bush
“Actually, I came to talk to the driver.”
I raise my eyebrows quizzically. “Was he there?”
“No. A neighbor heard her screaming and came to see what was wrong. When the neighbor arrived, Bridget’s jaw was fractured, her nose was bloody, and the men who’d attacked her were gone. Her driver showed up a few minutes later and called the cops. When I talked to him yesterday, he said he’d been running a few minutes late because he’d stopped at the store to get a pack of cigarettes. The security cameras at the store and his credit card receipt verify that’s where he was.”
“So…” I prompt. It sounds fairly straightforward, but I know from personal experience that insurance claims involving millions of dollars are usually not quite as clear-cut as they seem.
“I’d bet money on it being insurance fraud, but I just can’t put the pieces together. I’ve heard rumors the driver has some mob connections, but I haven’t been able to prove it. I’d hoped talking to him would help, but it didn’t.”
“So what makes you think it’s fraud?”
His dark brows furrow in thought. “I can’t put my finger on it. Just a hunch, I guess.”
“Any leads on the men who attacked her?”
“Nope. No one saw anything. They just disappeared with the money. If they were even there at all.”
“You don’t think she was accosted?”
“Well, she clearly was. She had the cuts and bruises to prove it, and the whole right side of her face was swollen. I had originally thought she and her driver were in on it together and maybe she let him tie her up and beat her, but he wasn’t there so it couldn’t have been him. But she’s given very vague details on the men who accosted her.” He shrugs. “But enough about my case. I’m probably boring you to death.”
“Actually, you’re not,” I admit. “This is what I love best about being an FBI agent. I love the challenge of trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. It’s addictive.”
He asks about my job at the FBI, and I tell him about the early days of trying to prove myself and finally finding an unlikely but life-saving comradery with the female agents who’ve become my second family in Austin. Unlike most of the men I’ve met, Marcus is a very good listener, and I can tell he’s truly interested in everything I tell him. So good that I find myself opening up to him about how hard I worked to overcome the misconception that I only got the job because my dad was the director, and worse, not being able to find a man to date who wasn’t intimidated by my job and my father’s position.
“What about you?” I ask curiously. “No wife or kids?” I remember he’d been married once, before we met, but it had ended when he came home from a deployment and found she’d cleaned out their apartment, leaving him with nothing but a note.
I must have touched a nerve, because his face becomes completely closed.
“No,” he says matter-of-factly, his eyes shuttered. “I’m not the marrying kind.”
He gets up and takes his dishes to the sink.
“Make yourself at home,” he says curtly. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I finish my sandwich and put my own dishes in the sink as I hear the water start to run in the next room. I can’t help imagining Marcus in the shower, his naked body slick with water. The man has the most delectable body I’ve ever seen, all smooth skin and carved muscles without an ounce of fat. He may be older, but he has the physique of a twenty-year-old, which I know he works hard to maintain.
I groan. The next twenty-four hours are going to be pure torture. There’s got to be a way to get back to the lodge. Marcus said Five Pines is only about ten miles from here. If the roads were a little clearer, I could run it.
I wander around the small cabin, trying to think of something. Anything! I do find a bottle of good whiskey sitting on the counter that might come in handy if all else fails. Then, as I’m staring out the window, I see a small, covered area off to the side of the house where firewood is stacked, and like a gift from the morning after fairies, what looks like the wheels of an ATV peeking out from under a tarp. Aha. Victory! It’s easily accessible, and those things were built to be driven in the snow.
I take a quick glance around the room, looking for keys. As a highly disciplined military man, I have no doubt Marcus keeps all of his keys systematically organized somewhere. Sure enough, on the wall next to the kitchen cabinet is an iron key rack in the shape of a moose head. There are four sets of keys hanging from it: the keys to his sport utility, what looks like a small padlock key, and two sets of identical keys that must to go to the ATV.
I can still hear the shower running, but I’m going to have to be quick; I’m pretty sure Marcus wouldn’t approve of my plan. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t approve of my plan under normal circumstances! But I’m desperate to leave, my heart hurts, and my ego can’t handle another twenty-four hours of this. I grab the key. It’s always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, and I’ll make sure the ATV gets returned to him tomorrow.
I tiptoe into the bedroom and tug on the sweatpants lying across the bed that Marcus was wearing this morning, pulling the string as tightly as I can around my waist and rolling up the legs. I quickly pull on my stiletto boots—not ideal, but at least they’ll keep my legs warm—and the fleece jacket, hat, and mittens Marcus had loaned me earlier. Then I slip out the door.
It turns out there are two ATVs, but lady luck is on my side because the key I grabbed works in the first one I try. In no time at all, I’m churning through the snow down the driveway and toward freedom, huge walls of snow flying up behind me as the wheels try to make purchase in the icy snow.
Marcus had mentioned that his cabin was off the same major road as Five Pines, just ten miles further up the mountain, so I figure if I just follow the road down the mountain, I can’t miss it. Unfortunately, the road is blanketed in snow, making it hard to tell where it is. But once I orient myself with the line of trees and the narrow path in between them, I figure it’s a pretty straight shot.
The road is both steep and slippery, and despite the fact that the vehicle is made for snow, I find myself fishtailing more often than not. And the damn snow keeps falling! I can barely see two feet in front of me and it’s freezing. I can’t believe just yesterday I thought the snow was beautiful.
I’ve been steadily chugging along the road through the blinding snow for what I estimate to be about a mile when the road comes to an abrupt fork. Because the snow flurries have gotten heavier, obscuring my vision, I don’t see it until I’m about to plow into a tree. Although I know better, pure instinct has me slamming on the brakes. The ATV skids several feet sideways and I scramble to turn into the slide but I’ve lost control of the vehicle. It hits something buried under the snow and comes to a complete halt, but physics prevail and I go flying over the handlebars.
Chapter Six
Ariana
I land in a thick drift of snow, which is kind of like landing on a soft, cold pillow. I lay still for a minute, trying to slow my heart rate, figure out what just happened, and determine if I’m still alive.
I hear the sound of a motor approaching and then Marcus’ voice. “Ariana! Ari! Are you okay?”
His gorgeous face appears above mine, his forehead creased with worry. “Don’t move,” he barks.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “The snow was soft.” I sit up to show him that I’m okay and brush some of the snow off my jacket. He starts carefully moving my legs. “Does this hurt?”
“No. I’m okay! I promise.” I look over at the ATV. “I hope I didn’t damage your ATV.”
“The hell with the ATV,” he growls. “It’s replaceable. You’re not.”
He scoops me up into his arms and he’s so warm and solid and safe that I can’t help but snuggle closer to him. He carries me over to his ATV and gently sets me onto the seat. “You okay to ride back? You need to get out of the cold.”
I nod. His obvious and genuine concern for me is starting to make me feel guilty. “I’m no
t hurt.”
He shoots me one more doubtful look and then climbs on behind me. His arms band around me as he grips the handlebars, his powerful thighs hugging mine as he starts the vehicle. I lean back against his solid chest. Marcus has always been able to effortlessly make me feel protected and taken care of.
He drives us slowly back up the mountain road, careful to stay in a track of packed snow that he must have made when he followed me. My tracks, although almost covered by new snow, look erratic in comparison. There’s clearly a method to driving in this kind of snow that I know nothing about.
Back at the cabin, he parks the ATV under the carport and bundles me back into his arms to carry me inside. It’s not until I’m standing in front of the fire that I realize how cold I really am. Marcus pulls off my hat and gloves and starts rubbing my hands briskly with his strong fingers to get my circulation going as I stand there shivering. But the worried look in his eyes is finally gone; I must have finally convinced him I’m not hurt.
“Go change into dry clothes.”
The tone of his voice, coupled with the forbidding look on his face, has me scrambling to obey. His concern seems to have morphed into tightly restrained fury.
In his bedroom, I peel off my wet clothes and dig through one of his dresser drawers until I find a soft, long-sleeved, gray t-shirt with Dunn & Wallace emblazoned across the front and a pair of thick socks that come up to my knees. Damn but I could use some underwear. I feel bare and exposed under his t-shirt, but at least it’s long on me. Where the hell is my thong?
I take my sweet time changing. I’m not in a hurry to go back out and face Marcus. When I finally emerge from the bedroom, he’s waiting for me, pacing in front of the fire.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he demands. The man who never gets mad has gone beyond angry. He’s furious.
“I’m sorry. I saw the ATV out the window and thought I’d use it to get back to Five Pines. I was going to bring it back tomorrow.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the ATV!” he roars. “And you may not have lived until tomorrow. You could have been killed out there!”
I snort. “That’s ridiculous. I’m an FBI agent. I can take care of myself.”
“Really?” He takes a menacing step forward but I hold my ground. “Is that why you ended up almost hitting a tree and winding up buried in four feet of snow? There was so much that could have gone wrong! It’s not uncommon for a storm like this to cause an avalanche. Did you think about that?”
I shake my head mutely. I hadn’t been thinking about much other than getting the hell out of here.
“If I hadn’t seen you take off and followed you, who knows how long you would have been lying in the snow. No one else is crazy enough to be out in this shit. And with the inadequate clothing you were wearing, you would have frozen to death sooner rather than later.”
“But I was fine!” I interrupt. He turns blazing eyes on me and I wisely close my mouth.
“Thank God you weren’t hurt, but you could have been. Underneath all that snow at the fork in the road is an eighty foot drop off. If you’d been thrown from the ATV two seconds earlier, you’d be at the bottom of a ravine now.”
I blanch.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You’re right. It was irresponsible of me.”
“Damn straight it was!” he says. “Why didn’t you just wait out the storm like I told you to? What was so important that you had to get back to the resort today?”
There’s no way in hell I’m going to admit it’s just too damn hard to be around him, wanting him and knowing he doesn’t feel the same. “This was my chance to experiment,” I retort. “Explore my boundaries. I signed up for the retreat so that I could see what D/s and BDSM is really like. I wanted to meet a man who would treat me like a woman, not an FBI agent who’s supposed to be competent and in control all the time. I wanted to give away my power, just for a little while. I wanted to be with someone I could be weak with, because I know he’ll be strong. For once in my life, I didn’t want to have to think or decide anything; I just wanted to feel small and insignificant. And you ruined it!” I punctuate my last sentence with my finger thrust into his rock hard chest. His eyes narrow dangerously and my stomach flutters.
“You want to know what it’s really like, do you? In a D/s relationship, a sub doesn’t blatantly defy her Dom and put her life at risk, and if she does, she’s punished. If you were mine, that’s exactly what I’d do. In fact, I’m itching to do it anyway.”
If I were his. My heart skips a beat at the thought.
“You want to punish me?” I whisper.
“Hell yes, I want to punish you! It scared the living shit out of me when I saw the ATV hit that rock and you go flying and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
My head is screaming that this is a bad idea, but I don’t care. You don’t usually get what you want or need by listening to the voice of reason, and what I want, what I’ve always wanted, is Marcus.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, you can punish me.”
His eyes widen with surprise and then flare with lust. He takes a step closer and cups his palm against my cheek. “I can punish you?” His voice is soft but his eyes are boring into mine and I know exactly what he wants to hear.
“Please punish me,” I whisper.
“Is that really what you want?” He’s scrutinizing my face, attuned to the slightest nuance in my expression.
I nod. Here’s everything I’ve ever wanted in the mouthwateringly sexy package that is Marcus Dunn. Even though I know it’s just for tonight and he has no interest in anything more, at least I know he’ll give me the full experience I came to Denver for. If I really want to see if this is what I’ve been searching for—if this dynamic is what will fulfill that vague ache inside of me—this is my chance to find out. But if I’m being honest with myself, more than anything, I just want one more night with him.
I keep my tone light. “I’m clearly not making it back to Five Pines at this point. The least you could do after kidnapping me is show me what I’m missing since I’m not at the retreat.”
He smiles, and I swear he looks like the devil himself with warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners. Then, in the blink of an eye, he’s all business.
“Bend over the back of the couch and wait for me,” he commands. “I’ll be right back.”
I do as he says, my heart tripping in my chest as I drape my torso over the back of the soft leather couch. It’s low enough that the top edge hits just above my pelvic bone so that I’m bent at the waist, my bottom covered by his long t-shirt but just barely. I brace myself with my hands on the seat cushion, feeling slightly awkward but unmistakably aroused.
Seconds turn into minutes, and the waiting only increases my nervous anticipation. I hear him come back into the room and the sound of firewood being thrown on the fire. Then he’s behind me, his hands pushing the soft t-shirt up around my waist, baring my ass to him.
“What are you going to do?” I ask breathlessly.
“I’m going to take a belt to your ass,” he says matter-of-factly.
My stomach drops the rest of the way to my toes as I whip my head around to look at him. He’s standing behind me wearing jeans and nothing else, his bare chest, dusted with a smattering of dark hair, gleaming in the firelight. A thick black leather belt is doubled over in his right hand.
Seeing my wide eyes focused on the belt, he walks around to the front of the couch and crouches down in front of me so his face is level with mine.
“This is a punishment, Ari, but I’m not angry,” he says softly. “I want you to know that.”
I nod. I know bone-deep that he’s too disciplined and in control of himself to ever lash out in anger. This is something entirely different. Something dark and erotic and completely intoxicating.
“But you were,” I say in a small voice.
He nods. “I was. You mean somet
hing to me, gattina.” He scrapes a hand over his face. “I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”
My heart melts a little at his admission.
“But I would never touch a woman in anger. And especially not you.” He smiles then, a slow curve of his lips that hints at debauchery. “Make no mistake though. This is going to hurt, because I want you to think twice before you do anything that rash again without thinking of your own safety. But I won’t give you more than you can take. Do you trust me to know your limits?”
I nod again. There’s no one on Earth I trust more. Marcus is one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met. I sneak a sidelong glance at him. I always feel safe with him, even when he looks imposing as hell and has a belt in his hand and my naked ass in his sights.
“Good. I think a dozen will be sufficient. I want you to count each one, then thank me and ask for another.”
“I…” I start to bluster indignantly.
“The appropriate response is ‘yes, sir,’” he interrupts implacably.
“Yes, sir,” I say meekly.
One hand slips up the front of my shirt and pinches my nipple. I jump slightly, but quickly resume my stance over the couch.
“Very good,” he says, and his chuckle of approval warms me all the way to my toes. “Widen your stance.”
I inch my feet apart slightly.
“More.” The command sends little shivers of desire dancing along my skin.
God, I feel even more vulnerable now with my legs more than shoulder distance apart, my ass and sex blatantly exposed. And it’s hot as fuck!
I catch his slight movement out of my peripheral vision and I squeeze my eyes closed, steeling myself for the sting of the belt, but instead he lays it gently across the small of my back. Then, just like last night, his big warm hands are on my butt, rubbing and kneading it oh so deliciously. And—smack!—a few heavy thudding spanks with his hand at the juncture of my thighs, followed by a few harder slaps on each cheek. Then more rough squeezing and a few more well-placed spanks.