Last Breath

by Jessica Clare

“I’d fucking die before I left you in there,” Daniel says, and the intensity in his eyes tells me it’s the truth.

  “Then we do this,” I say. I turn back to Mendoza. I’m still surprised to see that the man running this weird military compound full of families and children is young and handsome, but he could be on the cover of GQ. Well, maybe more like Guns and Ammo, but he’s still pretty. He’s thick with muscles and deeply tanned, his hair a dark buzz against his scalp. His eyes are this fascinating shade of amber I’ve only seen on models.

  My friend Becca would eat him up.

  Then again, fuck Becca.

  Mendoza regards me for a long moment, waiting to see if I’m going to lose my shit. When I return his gaze, calm and easy, he nods. “A day at the most.”

  “A day?” Daniel explodes. “A full day? No. Absolutely not—”

  “What is plan?” Petrovich interrupts, his accent thick and calm. “Send her in with poison?”

  I swallow hard. I’m supposed to kill someone? “I don’t know that I could do that.”

  Mendoza cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “We can put a GPS on her. Send her in. Even if she’s immobilized, she’ll be placed in a location that hasn’t been discovered through my sweeps. I’ve sent in caterers, repair techs, pool people, but we can’t locate the safe rooms. I’m guessing they’re downstairs, but we haven’t been able to get down there. We’ve got the technology to make a map based off Regan’s movements.” Mendoza grins at me, and I return a weak smile. “I’ve wanted to shut it down for a while but have been waiting for the right moment. We will go in, fetch the women and the man you want to retrieve, come out, and destroy everything in our wake.”

  I nod. “So I go in and try to get to as many places as I’m allowed, look for an American blonde named Naomi, look for a hacker, and sit pretty. I can do this.” I glance over at Daniel, but his face is like ice. He’s not happy, but he knows we’re stuck. “But if you send me in with Gomes, how do we know he’s not going to warn the others that it’s a trap?”

  “He has a car, does he not?” Mendoza says. “We send you in his car with a note. Gomes said it’s Hudson’s birthday tomorrow. We send you in as a present.”

  I shudder at the thought. “All right.”

  “When do we do this?” Vasily asks. “Every hour we waste is another hour he can find out what we’re up to and slip away.”

  “We start in the morning,” Daniel says. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I get Regan out of there.”

  I nod, concealing the trembling in my hands. I’m terrified, but it’s a risk we have to take. “Let’s do this.”

  Daniel

  THE PLAN IS SIMPLE BUT so flawed. There are so many things that can go wrong, but if we don’t let her go . . . There has to be another way, but if Mendoza’s men have been in more than once and can’t find the hideaway then sending Regan in with a GPS tracker might be our only chance.

  I try not to make love to her that night like it’s our last time together. As I move my hand over the curve of her waist, down over the hill of her ass, to the hidden crease between her legs, I’m memorizing the path only because it’s beautiful and erotic and every man should have a physical memory like this. When I dip my head to her chest and suckle and bite the tender flesh as she grips my hair and breathes out my name like a benediction, I close my eyes and try to imprint this moment in my mind only because the soundtrack of my life should only be the soft cries of arousal followed by screams of completion.

  “Daniel. Daniel. Daniel,” she chants as I move lower between her legs. I take my time here, licking her in long slow movements. So good. Her taste on my tongue is an aphrodisiac. My cock becomes harder, swells bigger as each droplet of excitement hits my mouth.

  I bury my nose into cunt and breathe deep. This is the only scent I ever want in my head. Inside her channel there’s more of her essence, and I spear my tongue inside, trying to devour her. My fingers stretch her opening wide so that every inch of the delicate flesh is exposed to my ravenous appetite. My tongue and lips and teeth work every inch of her pussy and clit until she is drenching them with her arousal.

  “Come all over my tongue,” I growl. Her thighs quiver with the force of her orgasms as she obeys, and I lap every bit of her liquid up. My cock is wet from my own small release. I spread my pre-cum down the sides and then hold up my palm to her face. “Lick it.”

  She does more than lick it. She mouths each finger and then laves my palm with the flat of her tongue. I’m groaning and panting at how her fucking tongue on my palm makes me want to come all over her. With enormous effort, I pull away so I can slide two fingers inside her, where I scoop out her moisture and lather it on my straining organ.

  “I want you all over me,” I whisper. With one hand I rub my cockhead against her opening, flicking her little clit until her hot little body is shaking all over with want. I glide in slowly, my teeth gritted, enjoying each pulse of her cunt walls against my dick. The tendons of her neck stand out in sharp relief as she tips her head back in answer to my first thrust inside her. I pull almost fully out of her and then shallowly pump so that she hugs just the head. It’s a tease for both of us, but I want this night to last forever.

  “God, Daniel,” she half sobs, half laughs and then rises on her elbows to pin me with a glare. “Stop tormenting me, dammit.”

  I lay a hard palm on the top of her pelvis and drive into her with one swift motion until I’m fully seated. She falls back with a scream.

  “Is this how you want it?” My voice is so hard and rough that I barely recognize it.

  “Yes,” she snarls back. “I want it harder, faster. I want more.”

  My hips move with such force that she’s sliding across the mattress. Her hands and feet are scrambling for purchase as she seeks some way to push back. I grab her around the hips and pull her toward me. I may have started out with gentleness, but my self-control has left me and there’s only one way out of this maelstrom. Her hands latch on to my wrists. As if there’s a jackhammer driving through my spine, I thrust inside of her relentlessly. My fingers are leaving bruises on her skin, but the way that she’s clawing at my arms tells me she is with me all the way.

  “I’m close. Soooo close,” she cries. I maintain my rhythm, hard, fast, and steady until she’s exploding. Then I lean over, one hand braced by her head, both her legs over my shoulders, and I hammer furiously into her wet tight glove until my orgasm comes.

  “I’ve got you,” I shout. “Let go.”

  When I’m spent, I collapse by her side, pulling her into my arms. We rub each other’s backs and arms and spread soft, drugged kisses over the skin available to us.

  “I love you,” she whispers in between caresses. No matter what happens tomorrow, we’ll have this. I clutch her body closer so I can feel her heartbeat against mine.

  Regan

  I’M PRETTY GOOD AT LYING to myself, it seems.

  I told myself that after I left the brothel, I never wanted another man to touch me. Lies.

  I told myself that I’d never be vulnerable again. Lies. I’m vulnerable every time Daniel looks at me with that wicked grin on his face and my heart jumps in response.

  I told myself I’d never go back to the brothel. But here I am, volunteering to go to Freeze’s house because that’s where Naomi is and I’m what we need to get her out. I know Daniel wouldn’t judge me if I chickened out. He doesn’t want me to go. But I need to go. If not just for Naomi, for all the other girls that have been stolen and disappeared behind those walls, never to appear again. It’s not just for Daniel.

  But . . . there I go again, lying to myself.

  I smooth my hands down his spine, enjoying the feel of his sweat-slicked skin against my own. In Daniel’s arms, I’m whole. In Daniel’s arms, the world is safe.

  And I’m leaving his arms for the enemy tomorrow. I shiver and burrow my face into his neck, breathing in his sweaty scent.

  “You okay?” Daniel asks, running a hand down
my arm.

  “If things go bad tomorrow,” I ask in a soft voice, “you’ll come and find me, right? No matter what it takes?”

  He props his body up on his elbows and gazes down at me, all relaxation gone from his body. He’s practically vibrating with tension now. “Nothing’s going to go wrong, Regan.”

  “It’s just . . .” I swallow hard. “Hudson’s not right in the head. I don’t think I could deal with two months with him. I lived through two months in the brothel, but I don’t think I could do it with him. If you can’t come get me, I’ll figure out a way—”

  “A way to what?” Daniel’s voice is harsh.

  “To make them shoot me,” I say. But my voice is very small in the face of his anger.

  “No,” he growls, and he grabs my chin in his hand and forces me to look at him when I avert my eyes. “You think I won’t come after you? You think I’d let that fucker touch one hair on your head while I’ve still got breath in my body? You don’t do anything but what we outlined in the plan, Regan, because I swear I will fucking come and rescue you like some goddamn knight in shining armor. And you don’t believe otherwise until they roll my dead body at your feet, all right? Because the thought of you killing yourself because you don’t have any hope left eats at my fucking gut, and I’m not going to be able to let you go in there if that’s even on the table.”

  “All right,” I tell him softly. “All right.”

  “It’s not all right.” There’s a fierce possessiveness in his eyes as he pulls me close and begins to press feverish kisses to my skin. “You’re mine, Regan Porter. You don’t get to decide if you die or not. Because if you do, you’re destroying me, too.”

  “It was just a suggestion,” I say and drag my fingers through his messy hair. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  But there I go, lying to myself again.

  Twenty-three

  Regan

  IN THE MORNING , I’VE BEEN trussed up like the present I’m supposed to be. One of the ladies in the favela took me aside and gave me a white shift to wear that’s practically see-through. Underneath, I’m wearing a white lacy panty and bra set. I don’t know how they managed to get these things in such a short period of time, but Mendoza’s people are incredibly efficient. Once I’m dressed, the woman curls my hair, fixes my makeup, and then works a GPS tracker the size of a pearl into the seam of my bra cup. It’s utterly invisible, but I can feel it there, and it makes me anxious. I wish I had my gun, but I’m not allowed that. I’m not even allowed shoes.

  When I head out to the car, Mendoza, several of his men, and Vasily Petrovich are waiting. They’re all armed to the teeth. Daniel is crouching on the ground, raking a hand through his hair over and over again, and he gets to his feet at the sight of me. He approaches, a dark expression on his face.

  “How do I look?” I keep my voice light so he doesn’t know how scared I am.

  “Like a fighter,” Daniel tells me grimly. His hand brushes down my arm, and he keeps looking me over, as if making sure that I’m still okay.

  I force a smile to my face. “That’s not the object here, Daniel. I’m supposed to look sexy.”

  “Regan,” he tells me and grabs the back of my neck, dragging me against him. My breasts mash against his tactical vest that is studded with weapons. While I’ve been getting ready, he has, too. “Look, just because we’re sending you in there doesn’t mean that you have to do whatever that sadistic bastard wants, okay? You fight him if he touches you.”

  I shake my head. “Daniel, you know that I can’t. I was sent to Gomes because he wanted me obedient. If I’m not obedient, he’s not going to keep me around.”

  “I don’t care,” Daniel grits out, and his voice is hoarse with barely contained rage. He presses his forehead to mine. “I’m not sending you in to get hurt. I can’t take that—”

  I silence him with a kiss that’s going to ruin my lip gloss. It’s a quick one, but I love the feel of Daniel’s mouth on mine. “I know,” I breathe against his mouth when I pull away. “Daniel, I love you. I trust you. You’ll come and get me. I know you will.”

  The look he gives me is tormented. “Regan—”

  “And when you do,” I murmur against his mouth, wishing I had time to kiss him properly, “we’re going to go find that private island of yours, and you can spend all the time you want oiling me up. I promise.”

  “Damn it, fighter. Don’t give me a boner right now.”

  I giggle.

  “Time to go,” Vasily says in a flat voice behind us. For a moment, my laughing, cocky, devil-may-care Daniel looks murderous. But he releases me with another quick kiss pressed to my brow.

  Gomes’ car is out front, and it’s a flashy low-rider with a cherry red paint job. Yeah, we’ll be noticed. Gomes is sitting behind the front wheel, and he’s sweating with terror. “We can trust him?”

  Mendoza opens his hand, revealing a small vial. “He’s poisoned, and I am the only one with the antidote. He’ll be watched. Any sign of betrayal and this goes down the drain.”

  “Creative,” I murmur. Another bead of sweat rolls down Gomes’ nose while I watch.

  Vasily hands me something. It’s a birthday card. I snort and tuck the envelope against me. “Should I, you know, do anything if it’s all going to hell? Do I need a back-up plan?”

  “No,” Daniel says flatly. “It doesn’t matter because I’m coming after you either way.”

  I smile at that. “Deal.”

  We test the tracker to make sure it’s working, and then there’s no more time to stall. I take in a deep breath, get into the back of the car, and Gomes turns out of the compound.

  I clutch the envelope in trembling fingers, watching the streets and alternately watching Gomes as we make our way through the favela. He’s sweating like crazy, and I’m worried it’s going to give something away. This has to work, though. It has to.

  All too soon, I see the familiar compound rising in the distance. I quell the panic rising inside me. I can do this. I can do this. Naomi, I think. Naomi and a hacker. I need both of them. Actually, all I care about is Naomi, but if Hudson is holding someone else against his will, I want to save that man, too.

  Gomes pulls up to the gate sideways, my door facing the massive gate. Two soldiers approach, guns in hand. “Time for you to get out,” Gomes says to me in a trembling voice.

  “I’m going,” I say quietly and open the door.

  One man trains his gun on me while the other approaches, and my heart stops. My hand is shaking as I hold out the birthday card. I say nothing.

  The man takes the birthday card and looks over at Gomes. Then, he nods and eyes me. He says something to me in Portuguese—a question.

  I panic. “I . . . I don’t know,” I say, my voice small, and I cringe when he repeats it again. It’s not hard to act scared in front of these men. I’m terrified.

  He says something again and then begins to pat me down roughly, taking his time squeezing my ass and breasts. I cringe and endure his touch, my eyes closed, horrible memories flashing through my mind again. I can do this. I can do this.

  Naomi, I repeat to myself. I must save Naomi.

  The man slaps my ass and laughs when I jump, then hands the card back to me. He gestures me forward, and the gate opens. Only then do I realize I hear party music.

  Of course. It’s his birthday party.

  The guard leads me in, and I stare in amazement as people swirl around us. There are balloons and people in suits and girls in bikinis everywhere. And guns. Everywhere, there are guns and armed men. It’s a weird contrast to see someone holding an assault rifle and standing next to the punch bowl, but there it is.

  And at a table under an umbrella near the pool, sits Mr. Freeze. He’s a sliver of ice amongst the sea of color, and I feel my stomach churn in fright at the sight of him.

  The guard leads me right to him, and all eyes turn in our direction.

  Oh God, I feel so utterly conspicuous. Do they know I’ve got th
e tracker? Oh God. Oh God.

  Hudson gets to his feet, his pale hair gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. His suit is a pale, pale blue that almost seems white, and his tie the same color. His sunglasses are the only splash of color anywhere. He says something to his guard that I don’t understand and then both look at me.

  With a shaking hand, I hold out the birthday card, my head bent.

  Hudson takes the card, flips it open and reads it, then tosses it aside. He steps closer, and his hand brushes my cheek. Even his fingers are cold. It takes everything I have not to flinch away, but I keep my gaze downcast.

  “So, little biter,” he says to me. “Are you ready to be mine now?”

  “Yes, master,” I say. I hate the words. Hate them. He’s not my master.

  He tucks a finger under my chin and tilts my head back, examining my face. My eyelashes flutter and I keep my gaze down and let a shiver or two in so he knows that I’m afraid.

  After a moment, he grunts approval. “And have you learned the games I like?”

  Games?

  Panic flashes through me. Games? What games? Gomes was supposed to teach me games? What kind of sick games does this man like?

  My response must show on my face. He tsks and turns to his table, saying something in a pleasant voice. Then, he gestures at his guard. “Take her to my room. Make her ready.”

  The guard grabs me by the elbow, and before I can ask what he means, I’m dragged inside the house. I get a glimpse of a mansion filled with potted plants and pretty tiled floors as I’m dragged through, and then I’m heading up a set of stairs and down a hall. Passing several more doors, I’m brought into a bedroom.

  The guard heads right on in through the bedroom and to a door at the back of the room.

  “Where are we going?” I stammer. “Hello?”

  The guard doesn’t answer me. Instead, he flings the door to the closet open.

  Except, it’s not a closet. It’s another room. A guard is sitting there, smoking a cigarette and flipping through a magazine. He stands at the sight of me, and the two guards begin a conversation. The new one eyes me lasciviously, and then I’m passed over to him.