by Linda Barlow
"Any sign of my fucking cousin?"
"No," said Sinan. "The sidekick is out of action now, too. He's been drinking that cherry juice, unaware of what's in it."
Metin. Drugged. I'd had a bit of the cherry juice, too, but it had been too sweet for me, so I'd mostly drunk the water. I was probably supposed to be a good deal more disabled than I actually was, but I couldn't see what good this would do me against two strong and vicious thugs like these.
"Good. I have this under control. Go back and keep watch. I don't want to be interrupted."
Having nothing to lose, I said in Turkish, "Sinan, please help me. You know I am with Nick. Nigel has dragged me out here against my will, and—"
Nigel struck me again, cutting off my plea. Sinan continued to walk away, although I thought I saw his shoulders hunch a little at my cries, as if he were trying his best not to hear.
Nigel threw one arm around my neck while the other squeezed both my wrists together behind my back and twisted. I writhed in pain but couldn't dislodge him. Disgust filled me as I felt his dick turn hard in his pants. I think tears were coming by then, but I hardly noticed. I was trying to breathe, trying to resist and losing all hope.
"Here's the thing. Nick has been stealing artifacts for about half a year now. I just heard from one of my contacts that an object we removed from a dig near the Turkish border with Syria was returned to the Turkish government. Odd, don't you think? The buyers to whom we sell our wares are not likely to pay large sums of cash for something that they altruistically give back. How do you explain that?"
I was just as astonished to hear this as I was pretending to be. Items stolen by Nick were making their way back to Turkey? Why was he stealing antiquities if he was returning them? Was the whole story about contributing to his grandfather's thievery a ploy?
Hope soared in me. That would explain so much.
You mean you're working undercover?
"I can't explain it," I said. "I don't understand why you're even asking me. Before my master brought me here, I knew nothing about his business dealings."
"What did you and he fight about yesterday?"
"We had a silly argument. What does it matter?"
"You're a sex slave, supposedly. You don't get into silly arguments with your master."
Okay. I admit I didn't have a good quick answer to that one. After a pause, I tried, "I haven't proven to be quite as trainable as my master hoped."
"No, Ms. Helen Heath. I'm sure you haven't."
He hit me again. I don't think it was quite as hard this time. He probably wanted to be able to question someone who still had a few teeth in her mouth.
"You're no fucking sex slave. Haven't you ever heard of facial analysis software? You're not the only one around here with a camera. I had one of my guys take some pictures of you the first night you showed up, and guess what—it didn't take long to find your face on the internet. Next time you try to go undercover, you might want to purge Facebook and your blog of your profile picture."
"I'm not undercover," I gasped, sure he was going to smash my face in. I wasn't the freaking person who was undercover, dammit!
"You think I don't know who your mother is? She's well known for her views on the supposed evils of the illegal antiquities trade, in Turkey especially. She's associated with several organizations that try to stop such heinous activities. You're probably working for one of her groups."
"Why? Just because I'm her daughter? My mother and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. Haven't you ever heard about children who rebel against everything their parents represent? Folks, like, maybe you?" I paused, and then added viciously, "Weren't your own parents good, decent, respectable archaeologists before they died in that tragic plane crash over the Amazon River?"
He didn't like this. Not one bit. This time he jerked my head back, ripping out god only knew how much hair by the roots. "I'll ask you one more time. What are you and your boyfriend planning? Why are you here?" He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and slid his foul fingers beneath the rope collar on my neck. He twisted, wrenching it tight, cutting off my air. Then he whirled me around, and flung me against a small building—I think it was a tool shed—at the rear of the compound. The hand at my throat moved down to my breasts. At least I could breathe again. But he squeezed my breast as if he were juicing fruit. I gasped in agony, and he churned his hips against me, clearly aroused by my pain.
He'd struck me. He'd interrogated me.
Rape was next on the agenda, it seemed.
Followed, most likely, by murder.
"Nothing to say?" One of his fingers ran around my mouth, roughly exploring both my lips, and then forcing my mouth open. "If you won't talk, let's see if we can find another use for this mouth. Remember that blowjob I asked for?" He stuck two fingers in my mouth, making me gag. "I'll take it now. And then I'll fuck you." I felt him fumbling with his belt. "When I'm done with you, I'll turn you over to my men and make you blow them and fuck them too, until you're sticky and covered with cum."
I did the only thing I could to resist this guy, who was bigger and taller than Nick and much more brutal. I spit in his face. If anyone was going to be covered with body fluids, it would be him, not me.
Of course he hit me again, but I figured I'd rather be knocked unconscious than have to give the creep head.
"What the fuck," yelled a harsh male voice from somewhere nearby. Nick was coming at a run from the other side of the compound. His voice turned harsher still as he shouted, "Down, slave."
My response to his command was instant. I went limp, sinking away from Nigel until I hit the ground. Above my aching head I heard a strange sound, less a sound than a parting of the air where just a moment before my body had been. There was a thunk, and the shed wall seemed to shudder. Nigel bellowed and staggered backwards, away from me. He started screaming curses while I huddled, trembling in the dirt. I lifted my head only the tiniest amount. Nick was poised there, looking hard and tough in his too-tight jeans, his hair shining. His rough, unshaven face was cold, impassive. He might be totally uninvolved with me, for all the animation he displayed.
His knife, which I recognized, was sticking in the wall of the shed, gleaming darkly as the moon popped out from behind a cloud. Nigel staggered beside me, one hand clutching his bleeding shoulder. "If you were aiming for my heart, you fucking missed," he roared.
"I told you to stay away from her," Nick said in a deadly tone. "It's a good thing your dick is still in your pants, or my aim would have been six inches lower, and your fucking heart would be silent."
Chapter 33
NICK
Standing there confronting the monstrous sight of Ellie in Nigel's power, all my bitterness and resentment came surging up out of the dark place where I'd tried so hard to keep it hidden. I saw my handsome, hated cousin seducing Elizabeth, the woman I'd loved in college. I had never found out exactly what he had done to her that had destroyed her bright mind, but I knew it was foul. No one had been able to save her after Nigel got through with her. Not even Hepburn, who had also loved her.
Now Nigel was hurting another woman I cared about. Somehow he had gotten her alone. It couldn't have been for long, but from the dazed look on her face, it had been long enough.
Still, she'd obeyed me instantly when I'd given the order. He hadn't broken her.
"Nick, thank god," she said, sounding shaky.
"Are you all right?"
"He hit me. I think I'm spitting out teeth."
I felt my control start to go. Nigel was holding his shoulder, but there wasn't much gushing blood. Not enough to suit me. Too bad. I should have aimed lower.
I wanted to deal with Nigel and get Ellie the fuck away from here. "I warned you what would happen, asshole," I snarled at my cousin.
Nigel recovered, shook himself off, and came at me, arrogant, despite with the knife wound. "You should have stayed on your boat. But since you haven't—" He feinted with his right fist, then released the first rea
l blow, an impressive left hook. I saw it, ducked, twisted, and laughed softly as Nigel's punch missed me altogether. I waited until the bastard realized the full magnitude of his error.
What a conceited idiot. Just because he'd beaten me to a pulp a few times when we were kids, he thought it would still be that easy? Fuck him. I exploded, attacking with feet and elbows, fists and knees. He went down. I fell on him. A black haze came over me. I wasn't even sure what I was doing. My limbs were flying. I was going to kill the fucker. He had poisoned the lives of the people I loved for too many years.
I felt his body recoil as I struck him. I felt muscles give and bones shudder. In a couple minutes I'd feel blood seeping until my fists were thick with it. You know what? That was fucking okay with me.
"Nick!" Ellie screamed. "Stop it. He's had enough."
Fuck that. I wanted to kill my blackhearted cousin. The rage was so strong in me that I couldn't think. I pounded him some more, and then caught one of Ellie's wrists. I wrenched her closer, dragged her to the ground, and pressed her down on her back. Next thing I knew I was straddling her body like a conqueror. Kill the man or fuck the woman? Tough choice. I guess this was what bloodlust felt like.
Nigel lay doubled up beside us, groaning.
"Nick. Please. Stop."
I fought for control. Her calm voice helped. She didn't sound afraid. I clung to the sound of her voice.
"It's okay," she said. "You can stop now."
Aggression still coiled in me, rolling around like a living thing, but I was beginning to be able to think. To reason. Was this what happened when you tried too hard to control all the details of your life, to figure out the angles, to analyze the possibilities, to intellectualize your feelings, to rise above the monster that dwelt deep within?
The monster lay in waiting for a moment like this. A chance to erupt and wreak havoc. To beat, to rape, to kill.
But Ellie's eyes were searching mine, and her clear gaze centered me. We stared at each other, taut with tension, neither of us certain what the next moment would bring.
"Nick?" she repeated, her voice no more than a whisper. Her face was red, I saw, even though the light back here was dim. Her hair was askew, and around her left eye, swelling was starting.
Shuddering, I lifted my hands away from her. I ran shaking fingers through my sweaty hair. "Ellie." He had hurt her. I'd almost hurt her, too. "I'm not myself. I could have hurt you."
"You could have killed Nigel. He's your cousin. Your flesh and blood."
"He'll live." I managed to vault to my feet. "Let's go. I'm taking you back to the boat."
"Yes, please," she said. Was that more of her damn sarcasm? No, of course not. She wanted to get away from here. She needed ice for that eye, that jaw. She needed caring, not violence. "Ellie?"
She came closer and touched me, nothing more than a light finger brushing against the side of my cheek. Reflexively I grabbed her hand and held it to my lips. "You warned me that around you things are not always what they seem."
She knew something. Okay. No time to discuss it now. A clatter in the hallway suggested that the men were coming out to investigate the racket. "We'll go to Voyager. Where the fuck is Metin?"
"They drugged him. They tried to drug me, too, but I didn't drink much."
I swore. Nigel had been one step ahead of me. That was always a danger when your adversary was not only black-hearted but also smart.
Chapter 34
ELLIE
We hardly spoke at all on the way to the yacht. Nick was clearly trying to come down after an explosion of bloodlust, and I was starting to notice the pain of being struck several times in the face by Nigel. I could feel my eyes and cheeks swelling. The left side was worse than the right. By the time we rowed out to Voyager, I could hardly see through my bleary, stinging eyes. Nick had to carry me up the steps and sling me over the side. I lay on the deck where he had put me, curling up against the pain and humiliation of what Nigel had done to me. Tried to do to me. That must be what it felt like to be a trafficked woman—helpless, aching, and miserable, with no possible hope of rescue.
Fifteen minutes later, I lay in bed in the master cabin on the Voyager, waiting for Nick to join me. He was in the head. He had washed my face and applied ice. He'd been gentle. He'd taken care of me. He'd come for me, at last.
And he wasn't a thief at all. That thought had kept making me smile as he'd rowed us out to Voyager. It had been a magical smile, apparently, because when he'd seen it, Nick's rage and aggression had melted like a snowball in the sun.
I couldn't deny that on some primitive level, the attack on his cousin had roused something similar in me. I understood how someone could attack a cruel, vicious man. Particularly if he was hurting someone who couldn't fight back. Did it mean Nick cared about me? Or was it just a stronger form of aggression than most females have inside us? Could I hurt—or even kill—in defense of someone I loved? I don't think I'd ever contemplated that before.
I yawned and looked at the clock beside the bed. Midnight. Was it last night that we'd lain together here, laughing, sighing, and giving each other pleasure? My heavy eyelids closed as I re-experienced those delicious moments. I was almost asleep, when the head door opened and my fierce lover burst back into the room.
I eyed him over the hem of the sheet, which I had pulled up to my chin. He was tall and strong, and his gilt hair was slightly darkened from the sweat of his exertion with Nigel. His finely molded cheekbones seemed more prominent than usual. His eyes blazed emerald bright.
He was dangerous, primitive. He'd beaten up a man on my account. Those hands could crush me if he chose. But in the impassioned moment when he might have done so, he hadn't hurt me. I sent him another beaming smile.
"Here we are in your cabin again," I said cheerfully. "Me, your captive, awaiting my master's pleasure. What are you going to do to me this time?"
He stared at me for a second or two, then jerked his shirt over his head, and dropped his hands to the snap of his jeans. A bolt of heat pierced my vitals, then radiated throughout my body. "Not a whole lot. I mean, I'd like to tie you down and fuck you in every hole, just to prove you're mine, but you're hurt."
"You can do that," I whispered, amazed at the way his word enflamed me. The ache in my face and jaw seemed to fade. "My libido still feels healthy."
He shook his head, grinning. He kicked off his shoes and stripped himself of his jeans. I squirmed at the sight of his thrusting cock. "Yours looks okay, too," I added.
He got into bed and reached for me under the sheet. I was naked. He caressed me gently.
"Even so," he said. "Gotta try to be gentle." He pulled the sheet down, I felt his gaze burning into my breasts. My nipples responded by buttoning into hard little nubs. He murmured his approval. He ran his fingers through my hair. Static electricity caused it to cling to his palm. He caressed my shoulder, rubbing the skin over my collarbone with his thumb. Then he trailed the tips of his fingers along my arm until he captured one of my wrists. I could feel my pulse beating intemperately. I reveled in his vitality, his strength.
"Ellie. You had a rough time tonight. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to you. I knew he'd try something, but I never thought he'd have the chance to take it so far."
"Make me forget."
"Are you sure? Your face must be sore. You'll have a black eye tomorrow. Maybe two."
"He touched me. I need to replace that memory. I need to blot it out." I wasn't sure if I could explain it. As he drew me closer, my breasts pressed into his naked chest, and the tension in my nipples seemed unbearable. I needed him to take me, hard and fast.
Before I could say anything more, he jammed his mouth to my throat, below the point where I was hurting. Despite his intentions of gentleness, he was a little rough; I could feel the possessiveness that was still riding him. I needed to delete the fact that Nigel had touched me, and so, it seemed, did he.
But after a few seconds, his lips gentled, and his hands and body began
to court me.
"I need you, Ellie." His voice was thick. "I want to kiss you, touch you, be inside you." His hands punctuated his words as they slipped over my buttocks and lifted me atop him, tight against his pelvis. I felt his penis leap as he writhed beneath me. "It totally messes with my mind to think of another man's hands on you. Damn, Ellie. You're mine."
His low, breathless words made me burn, as did his lean, magnetic body. I melted into him. My belly ached and my muscles convulsed as I absorbed the feel of him against me.
"You want me, don't you?" He pressed down with his palms and rotated my lower body against his.
"Me, want a bad-tempered, violent thief like you?" I pushed up and let my long waves of hair fall into his face. "A man who orders me about, locks me up and threatens to rape me?"
He caught the playful note in my voice. "I thought I promised not to rape you?"
I lowered my head and nipped his throat. "I never made any such promise regarding you."
He laughed a little, and then returned my gentle nip. His strong white teeth against my flesh felt like heaven to me. He drew back, eyes hard with satisfaction. "I was afraid Nigel might, though."
"Well, thank you for coming in time to prevent that. It wasn't all bad. I learned some interesting things from him."
"What things?"
I wriggled my hips, making him groan. "Must we discuss it now?"
"No. I wanted to kill him, though. Seeing you there, like that, with him.... I never should have asked you to take such a risk."
"Show me how you're going to make it up to me."
His hands ghosted over my flesh, touching me with every degree of pressure from insubstantial fingers on my breasts to a sharp slap on my buttocks. I responded in like manner, blowing on his nipples and moving sensuously against his hips. When we could wait no longer, he gave me one of those delicious orders of his: "Sit up and straddle me."