But he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.
What’s important is that I mean every word about keeping him and not sharing him, or not bringing anyone else into the mix. About caring for him and teaching him what love should be like. Absolutely, those are promises I will keep.
Once we’ve survived the adrenaline-fueled fuckfest of the next few weeks, and complete our mission, I can fully focus on building a solid relationship between us.
For now? I need to jump-start Eddie’s healing so he can fully concentrate on the job ahead and not have to worry about his relationship with me.
Yes, that’s cold and focused. I admit it.
“Ask me.”
“Please mark me, Master!”
I slowly and carefully carve exactly along the old scar so that my mark will obliterate it. I do what he once begged Carter to do, and I completely make him mine.
He fists the sheets and screams into the pillow as I do, but he doesn’t move a fucking muscle.
When I finish, the A will absolutely cover the old mark. I set the blade aside, douse it with rubbing alcohol, and then drag him up onto his knees to kiss me. While he’s there, I open the bottle of vodka, take a large swig from it, and kiss him again, passing some to him and making him moan.
From that point on my clothes come off and this isn’t just fucking—it’s making love. His blood smears everywhere, painting both of us as we fuck and fuck and fuck, and I drink and pass him vodka from my mouth. And he greedily takes it. I bite him, scratch, punch—not in the face—and he begs for more.
After we’ve both come and can’t get it up again, from my jeans I retrieve the key to the padlock holding the chain onto his collar and unlock it.
It’s the first time he’s been untethered since he woke up in the bathroom.
“I trust you,” I tell him. “Don’t fail me.”
Tears run down his cheeks. “I trust you, too, Sir. I promise, I won’t fail you.”
I snuggle him in my arms and hold him, whispering to him as he cries.
Chapter Fifteen
After fucking ourselves into exhaustion, Eddie cries himself to sleep in my arms, and now we’re both covered in sweat and cum and Eddie’s blood.
And, for the first time in his adult life, I believe Eddie is truly happy.
I know I am.
This is obviously not where I thought my life was heading when I accepted this mission, but I’m not complaining. Because, maybe for the first time in my life, I’m truly happy, too.
Definitely for the first time since Tom and Pete died.
I’m also finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel for exacting my revenge on Cunningham. I now have a vested partner, not just in the application of the justice, but in the rationale behind it. There is no moral ambiguity here, no second thoughts, not for either of us.
Killing Cunningham means pure freedom for both of us.
I gently extricate myself from him and climb out of bed. I need to make a phone call and don’t want him overhearing my end of it.
When I said I will make his decisions for him, I meant it. Eventually, I’ll start letting him decide small things, but the big things will always fall under my jurisdiction and I will have complete veto power by default.
My pet will never want for anything from this point forward. I’ll see to that. I’ll be able to give him everything Carter couldn’t, and take from Eddie everything that no longer serves him in a positive way.
Not sure how I’ll break this news to my family—especially to Carter—but we’ll figure that out as we go. It’s the least of my concerns right now.
I suspect between his exhaustion and the vodka that Eddie will sleep for at least a couple of hours. Good, because he needs it. Leaving Eddie’s chain off and the padlock unlocked, I grab my clothes and the knife and quietly let myself out of the bedroom, locking it behind me.
Yes, I’m in love, but I’m no idiot. Don’t want him waking up in fear and then blindly reacting on his own instincts instead of my orders.
After a quick shower in the other bathroom, I head down to the living room, because with this decision now settled in my mind I have things to set into motion, and they can’t be delayed.
On a burner phone, I use an encrypted VPN and the Signal app to place a call to the VOIP number my long-time primary handler uses, a phone number that’s listed everywhere as belonging to a computer programmer and someone my “company” frequently hires as an “independent consultant,” so as not to draw any attention to our contacts.
Webs of subterfuge and lies and careful constructs designed to keep us all alive and secure. All of it bullshit.
All of it meaningless.
“Jason, how are you?” he asks after I identify myself and use our latest code phrase to let him know I can talk safely. “Heard your last business trip went well.”
I don’t fuck around. “Rich, I messed up my back on my last business trip,” I say. “Just calling to let you know I’m filing my retirement papers, effective at the end of the month. I’m no longer field-worthy. I’m removing myself from rotation and active duty, effective immediately. Take me off the list.”
He starts to laugh before it fades. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” I think about the man sleeping in my bed upstairs. My pet. “I’m winding down all operations on my end with my company. I don’t have any outstanding projects to hand off to others, so it won’t take me long to shutter everything.”
“Wait. You’re not just fucking around with me?”
“No, I’m not fucking around with you. I’m giving you a heads-up so they can take me off the call list, and so they know to expect my paperwork coming through the pipe.”
“Um…wow.”
I lean against the kitchen wall and stare at the shitty fridge, an old relic that was probably one of the last models produced in the former Soviet era. Compared to my stainless one in the Paris flat, it’s a dinosaur.
I’m a dinosaur.
A lethal dinosaur, but life is an inevitable meteor that will take me out no matter how vicious and capable I am.
And I still have a score to settle before it does. Now, with Eddie by my side, I know I can fulfill my oath I swore on Pete and Tom’s caskets.
“Between you and me,” I say, “literally, my last project nearly went completely south on me. It was the wake-up call I’ve been dodging for the last five years, at least. I’ve been trying to deny I’m over the hill, but I’m fifty-seven years old. I can’t ignore it any longer. I likely won’t get so lucky the next time.”
“Do you want to apply for a desk transfer from field work to one of the main offices?”
“No. I’m completely out as of the end of the month. Besides, my parents are elderly, and my brother will be high-profile in a few weeks when his wife’s sworn in. I am no longer an effective asset to this organization for several reasons, and it’s time to go out before I embarrass myself or trigger an incident that can’t be easily explained away. Or, worse, get someone terminated from our company.”
His tone turns somber. “You have an exemplary record, Jace. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Exactly. I’m not ashamed. But I’m going to move back to the States so I can be near my family and start reconnecting with them in person. My parents won’t live forever. Can you make sure to shepherd my retirement papers through once they’re filed?”
“Yeah, sure.” He chuckles. “Damn. All these years, I honestly never thought you’d leave before me. It’s like it’s in your blood.”
“I know. But I’d rather that blood stay in my body.” I glance at the time. “Listen, I’ll get those papers filed in the next few days, once I’m back in Paris.”
“Are you safe now? Do you need an exfil, or a medic team to retrieve you?”
“Nah, nothing melodramatic like that.” I force a laugh. “I need a chiropractor more than I need anything. Right now, I’m on bedrest for a few days. Don’t worry, I’m not expensing it or fili
ng workmen’s comp.”
He laughs again. “No worries. Hey, hold off at least four days before you file.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m scheduled to forward another installment on your contract, and I don’t want to push it earlier and raise flags.” He laughs. “Hey, our tax dollars at work, right? Consider it your gold watch. Merry Hanukkahmasyuleanza, my friend. Use it in good health.”
Relief fills me. That’s been a running joke of his for years when he’s about to drop black-budget Bitcoin on me. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well, if you’re retiring, that only leaves me two field accounts to manage. I’ll probably start handing them off and file my own papers. Enjoy my grandkids for a change. Maybe take up golf. Put balls in holes, man.”
I smile as I think about some of the things I want to do to Eddie. “Balls in holes sounds like a good idea.”
“Hit me up when you’re back in the States and we’ll go out for dinner and celebrate.”
“I will.”
I mean, I won’t, but I won’t tell him that. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. But once I walk away from this, I’m turning my back on it forever.
My sole focus will be Eddie and my family.
After revenge, of course.
I end the call and destroy that burner. Yes, he could track me to this area if he really wants to, because nothing is perfectly secure to the alphabet-soup agencies and their spy satellites, but I have nothing hanging over my head from their end that would prompt him to put in that level of effort and start looking for me.
Nothing that they’re aware of, that is.
Besides, why would they waste assets and energy on a washed-up old man with a bad back who’s had a stellar career and now wants to retire?
They won’t.
Which is why Cunningham will never see me coming.
Correction—us.
He’ll never see us coming.
* * * *
While I’m downstairs, I take some time to clean up the kitchen, pack my kit and everything in the living room, and make other preparations. I use a different burner phone through the encrypted VPN to research a couple of things and to plan. I have to get Eddie into Paris and stash him in my flat before any other plans can be made. I have several contacts at various border crossings who will flag me through without a closer look, but I can’t risk flying with Eddie until I have his new ID in place. Eventually, I need to provide “proof” that he’s deceased, so he can get flagged in systems as being dead and it officially takes him off the servers from that point forward.
Right now, I need to get him out of this country.
By car, the straightest route to Paris is less than a day’s drive from Bratislava, which we’re not far from. That’s if I can guarantee getting him through customs and immigration checkpoints.
I might need to buy a box truck. They’re less likely to look closely at a commercial vehicle and its drivers than they would tourists or private citizens.
I have an older French passport, a valid one under a fake name, that I could use and substitute the picture from Eddie’s passport. Which is probably a fake one.
Before I finalize this plan, I suppose I should talk to him.
It’s over two hours later when I finally head upstairs again, with food and a couple of bottles of water for him. When I unlock and open the bedroom door, my throat goes dry.
There is my pet, looking like a Jackson Pollock painting with the blood and cum and lube dried all over him, in his ready position. Hands and knees, head down.
Ass up.
Cock hard.
And, at some point, he locked the chain on his collar again.
The painful lump in my throat catches me by surprise, as do the tears stinging my eyes, which I have to blink several times to clear.
“Good boy,” I tell him once I finally pull myself together.
I leave the bedroom door open behind me and carry his food over to the bedside table and set it there. The mark on his back has crusted over and stopped bleeding. I’ll need to keep it bandaged for a few days to prevent infection.
His butt is also wiggling, I realize.
He’s wagging his ass at me.
He’s happy.
Smiling, I sit next to him on the bed and pat my thigh. He immediately throws himself onto me, his face pressed against my jeans and his butt in full-on wiggle mode now as I reach down his back and, with my finger, I trace the mark I carved into his flesh, lightly enough that I don’t disturb the fragile scab.
Fuck, he’s absolutely adorable.
When my mind ponders if Carter ever got this reaction from him, I shove that thought away. It doesn’t belong here between us. Not now, anyway.
This is us, and this has to be built from the ground up.
Blood and sweat and tears and maximum effort from both of us.
I thread my fingers through his hair and gently massage his scalp. “Any regrets or second thoughts?”
He vigorously shakes his head and presses his mouth against the top of my thigh. I feel the warmth of his breath even through the denim.
“Good boy. New rule, pet. Unless I say tais-toi, or give you an equivalent nonverbal command, you are allowed to speak. Understand?”
“Yes, Master.” I’ve started teaching him a few commands I want him to know.
I rub his scalp a little harder. “You can use Master when we’re alone, Sir any other time. And you can say Sir any time, if it’s just like what you said now, in response to a question. No punishment for slips, either. Understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
I smile, because he’s already desperately eager to please me.
I pat the top of his head. “S’asseoir.”
He sits up on his knees, butt on his ankles, his gaze focused on me.
I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. These commands will change, but for now I need to mold him to me, and I’m damn sure not going to use German on him, or use the same names for the positions that Elsa used. I want him associating everything with me now.
“Good boy.” I cup his face in my hands. “How many passports do you have? Valid ones, without your real name on them?”
“Four: Germany, France, Italy, and Thailand.”
I relax. “Can the French one pass an immigration highway checkpoint without a second look?”
“Yes, Master.”
I’m already tweaking my plan in my head. “Where are they?”
“Safe deposit box in Berlin.”
Fuck.
“But if you have the key and box number,” he adds, “that’s all you need. They don’t check IDs. The box isn’t in my name, and it’s not traceable back to me.”
“Good. Where’s the key right now?”
“Hidden in my flat.”
“In Berlin?”
“Yeah.”
Dammit. “Okay. I can’t risk moving you without papers. I reported you liquidated. If you suddenly ping as alive on your real passport, we’re both targets.”
He nods.
“Where, exactly, in your flat is the key?” He details the hidden storage alcove behind a strip of baseboard in the hallway. “You realize you can’t return to your flat, right? Ever?”
He nods. “I had the key with my things.”
“I have your keys. Is there anything you want from your flat of sentimental value? I can get away with showing up there. If anyone asks, I’ll say the obvious, that I’m checking for loose ends.”
He thinks about it. “There’s a lock box in my bedroom closet, up on the shelf. It has all my paperwork, and some pictures, and a photo album.” His expression turns sad. “They’re the only pictures I have of my mom and family. I’d like that, please.”
Leaning in, I kiss him. “Absolutely. I’ll arrange to have the flat cleaned out and whatever you want from there moved to Paris. We’ll merge it with my things, which I’ll ship to the States. Anything else?”
He shrugs. “My books. The
art on the walls.” He smiles. “My Deadpool coffee mug from the kitchen.” His smile fades. “My clothes, if you want to move them. If not, there’s nothing I’m sentimental about.”
In my mind my plan’s already shifting again. “I’ll take care of all of that.” I let my thoughts spin for a moment as it prioritizes tasks so I can visualize my next steps. Once I do that, I address my next question. “Why did you lock yourself up again?”
He looks confused. “I thought you wanted me to stay locked up?”
“I know. But answer the question, please. Honestly. Why did you lock yourself up when I left you unlocked?”
It’s obvious he needs a moment. When he finally answers, his soft tone nearly shreds my heart. “Because I like being locked up for you, Master. It makes me feel loved and wanted.”
I sigh. “My poor, sweet pet.” I kiss him again. “I’m going to have to leave you here alone for a few days. While I’m gone, you are free to roam inside the house but not set foot outside it, unless there’s an emergency, like a fire, or you have to escape for some reason. I’ll leave you a burner phone and a number to another burner I’ll have with me. Only contact me for an emergency. If you choose to lock yourself up, you may. But I also want you to do things like go downstairs and cook for yourself. I am trusting you not to leave the house. At night to sleep, you may lock yourself up. Is that fair?”
He nods, uncertain, because I can see it in his face. “Yes, Master.”
“When I return, you’ll be able to leave with me, and we’ll go to Paris.”
He wistfully smiles. “I haven’t been there in years.”
“Then you’ll love spending Christmas in the City of Lights, baby. Because we’ll need some time to plan the next step, and do research, and I don’t want to move you again unless it’s putting us on a plane to the States.”
“And then what?”
I cup his face in my hands. “We’re going to kill that fucking Cunningham and piss on his warm body before we consign him to oblivion.”
He sucks in a breath. “Really?”
I grin. “Really baby. Merry Christmas. Might be a little late opening the present, but a late present’s better than none at all.”
Pet: A Governor Trilogy Novel Page 12