by Cassia Leo
“The password?” Daimon says, sounding almost bored with the conversation.
“Go to hell!” the prince shouts.
I toss Daimon my gun and he catches it in his hand, then he shoves the silencer inside the prince’s mouth. I draw my knife and grab the princess by the back of the neck as I hold the blade to her nose.
“Password?” I ask again.
“Give it to them!” she shrieks.
“Okay, okay!” the prince mumbles through a mouthful of metal.
Daimon pulls the gun out of his mouth and smiles. “Go ahead.”
Andre-Louis holds his hands up and his mouth is saying okay, but his eyes are saying I’m not giving you anything. The moment Daimon glances in my direction, the prince takes a hard swipe at the gun. It goes soaring out of Daimon’s hand and sliding over the carpet then underneath a row of chairs. Andre-Louis tries to get up off his knees, but Daimon lands a hard elbow across the prince’s cheek and he falls onto his face.
Daimon steps on the back of his neck to hold him still, and I recognize the seething anger in his eyes. “That was a very stupid thing to do, Andre-Louis. Right, chérie?”
I position myself behind the princess and she squirms as I lock my arms around her neck to get her in a sleeper hold. Within a few seconds, she starts to go limp, and I let go immediately so she doesn’t lose consciousness. She falls onto all fours as she tries to get her bearings, but I pick her up and get her into a one-armed headlock. I press the flat side of the blade against her lip this time and she whimpers.
“Please don’t,” she mutters.
“If you don’t give us the password now,” I say, turning the blade so the sharp edge barely punctures her lip, and I clamp my hand over her mouth as she cries out, “the princess will be completely unrecognizable when we leave here.”
“Please don’t do this,” the prince pleads. “We will set up an off-shore trust in your name. Just please don’t do this.”
“The password?” Daimon replies.
I cut a shallow slash across the princess’s right cheek and her piercing shrieks are muffled by my hand, but they’re sufficient to get the prince’s attention. He spouts off the password and Daimon proceeds to use a covert app to wire the funds to an off-shore account.
It takes a couple of tense minutes for the wire to go through, then we sit them back to back, gag them and tie them together.
I look into the princess’s eyes as I kneel before her. “If you try to put a hit on us ever again, you won’t see us coming next time. Understand?” She nods and I stand up straight, trying not to let the stress of the clock ticking down show on my face. “Someone wise once told me that nothing has caused more foolishness in this world than the pursuit of beauty… It’d serve you well to remember that.”
Chapter Nine
Alex
We make it out of the Galerie Cristal without incident. But the moment we turn the corner, a couple of bodyguards at the end of the corridor stop us in our tracks. Daimon grabs my hand and yanks me in the other direction. My vision flickers as my heart rate speeds up, but we make it to the end of the corridor, where we burst through a door into a concrete stairwell.
I kick off my heels and Daimon holds my hand to help me along as we race up the steps. The sound of the door exploding inward and footsteps below us gives me that extra push of adrenaline I need. We make it up to the helipad on the roof at the north end of the property just as Julien’s helicopter is touching down.
My hair whips my face and Daimon’s wig flies off as we race toward the chopper. Daimon and a guy inside the helicopter help me up. Once Daimon is inside, we take flight and my heart jumps at the sound of a gunshot hitting the side of the window. The glass shatters and everything goes black as someone falls on top of me.
No. Please don’t let it be Daimon.
Another gunshot clinks off the landing skids on the bottom of the helicopter, but I can feel myself being pressed down by the inertia as we continue to climb. Seconds feel like hours as I wait for the person on top of me to move. Finally, the person rolls off of me and onto the floor.
I open my eyes expecting to see Daimon dead on the floor, but he’s kneeling before me. “Are you okay? Were you hit?”
“Me? No. Were you hit?”
“Of course not,” he replies, as if I’ve asked a silly question. He’s Daimon Rousseau. He’s invincible.
I throw my arms around his neck and he laughs.
“We did it!” I shout to be heard over the rotors. “We did it!”
“Don’t get too excited. We still have to get out of Monaco air space without being shot down.” He lets me go and pushes me back so I can sit on the seat. “Put your seatbelt on. I have to talk to the pilot.”
He helps me get my seatbelt on, then he heads up front to sit in the co-pilot seat. I can hear him and Julien speaking French to each other, and I realize just how important it is that I learn the language. It will be the first thing I do if we make it out of here alive. Well, after we finish executing the plan.
The chopper zooms through the air toward the open ocean. I close my eyes and listen to the beautiful sound of Daimon’s voice as he speaks to Julien. A few moments later, someone shakes my arm and he’s kneeling before me again holding the parachute vest I’m supposed to strap on for the next phase of the plan.
We strap on our vests and safety goggles then grab hold of the bar above the helicopter exit door. The wind is blasting me in the face so hard, I can’t feel my lips anymore. Daimon turns to me, and I wouldn’t be able to hear him if he spoke, but he doesn’t have to speak. I know what that look in his eyes is saying.
He leans over and we exchange a quick, but nonetheless passionate kiss before we let go.
I wait a few seconds to fall far enough from the helicopter, then I immediately yank down hard on the ripcord and a small black parachute deploys above me. The chute slows my descent into the water by a great deal. Once I hit the seawater, my life vest automatically inflates and the chill of the Ligurian Sea seeps into my skin. The water is fifty-eight degrees right now; significantly lower than my body temperature. And it’s only going to plummet overnight until the sun comes up in about five hours. If I lose Daimon, or if we’re not rescued, we could be dead by morning.
I struggle a bit to detach the cover of the vest attached to the chute, but I finally manage to get it off and swim away so I don’t get tangled in it. I try not to panic when I don’t see Daimon in the black water, but it only takes a moment before I hear him calling my name. I turn around and my heart leaps when I see him swimming toward me.
“Daimon!” I call, struggling a bit to swim fast with this bulky life vest.
Before we even reach each other, I hear the whine of the speedboat engine approaching. Daimon takes my face in his hands and kisses me hard. The kiss is salty, but his mouth is warm and comforting in this cold sea.
A small wave of water is dumped on our heads as the speedboat stops next to us. A man in a black wetsuit helps us board the boat, then another man drives away into the night.
“They followed the helicopter,” says the man in the wetsuit.
“And Julien?” Daimon asks while helping me out of my life vest.
“Julien and Mark are prepared to deal with the fallout.”
I don’t know what this means, but it seems to satisfy Daimon. He tosses his life vest onto the floor of the speedboat and pulls me into his lap so he can rub my arms and keep me warm. We reach the shore in Nice thirty minutes later, where Victor is waiting for us with a change of clothing, disguises, and identification documents.
Seventy-five minutes later, we board a train to Vienna and I can finally breathe. We settle into our sleeper cabin for the six-hour train ride. Daimon locks the door behind him, then we both take in the size and smell of the tiny space. Each of the bunk beds alone isn’t big enough for two adults, but that doesn’t stop Daimon from insisting we sleep together on the bottom bunk.
Without proper sleep attire, we both
decide we’d rather sleep nude. He hangs his gun holster from the bunk above us, so it’s within arm’s reach should he need it. Then he presses his back up against the rear wall and I press my back against his chest.
His hand immediately slides forward, landing on my abdomen as he presses his lips to my ear and whispers. “This is quite intimate.” His hand skims over my ribs and up to my breast. “Would you like to have sex on a moving train?”
I arch my back a little, pressing my ass against his growing erection. “Do you think our neighbors will hear us?”
He pinches my nipple and my pulse throbs between my legs. “Oh, yes.”
“Then, yes. I definitely want to have sex on a moving train.”
I twist my head around and he kisses me hungrily as his hand slides down my belly, over the scar on my side, then between my legs. I lift my top leg and lean back a little to drape it over his leg as he enters me.
I cry out in pain and he stops moving. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Don’t stop.”
His index and ring finger spread my flesh as his middle finger gently stimulates my clit. He does this for a few minutes without moving until he can feel me contracting around him. Then he slowly moves in and out of me.
“Oh, God. That feels so good.”
We’ve had lots of oral sex over the last couple of weeks while I was healing, but this is the first time he’s been inside me since our last night together in L.A. It feels more exquisite than I anticipated, his thick cock stretching my walls, moving in just a bit farther with each heavenly stroke.
“We are equals everywhere, except here,” he growls in my ear. “But now that you’re ready… I’m going to teach you how to receive me.”
I whimper as he digs deeper into me. His finger continues to caress my clit and I’m getting so aroused, I have to keep myself from screaming and squirming out of his grasp.
“What’s my first lesson going to entail?” I murmur, grinding my ass into him to draw him in even deeper until he hits that spot deep inside me that throws me over the edge.
He strokes my clit and thrusts harder and deeper into me until I come. I yank his hand out from between my legs and he chuckles as he continues to dip in and out of me.
“Your first lesson will start right now,” he murmurs in my ear, then he kisses my neck as his hand massages my breast. “Lesson number one: One orgasm is never enough.”
I laugh as he pulls his cock out of me and turns me onto my back. He climbs on top of me, settling himself between my legs as he slides into me again. His hips move in a decadently slow, rolling motion, his pelvis rubbing against my clit and sending pleasurable shockwaves coursing through me.
God, this man knows what he’s doing.
After a few minutes of this sweet torture, he pulls out of me again and moves down until his face is between my legs. He hooks his arms around my thighs and, through the dim lighting in the cabin, I can just barely glimpse his smile as he dives into me.
Suffice it to say that, after two hours in that sweaty cabin, I’ve learned lesson number one. And I’m not at all surprised when he admits that this is the only lesson I need to learn.
Chapter Ten
Alex
The private jet lands in Los Angeles at four in the afternoon. I feel well-rested from the nap on the plane, but I’m not sure any amount of rest or planning could prepare me for what we’re about to do.
A driver with a sign that reads “DURANT FAMILY” waits for us near baggage claim. Family. Daimon and I are now being referred to as a family. Sure, Durant is not our real surname, but the word family still rings true. Because family is not always the people with whom you share DNA. Sometimes, family is the person who fights the hardest for your happiness.
We don’t have any bags to claim, so we head straight for the car. Once we’re settled in the backseat, Daimon laces his fingers through mine and plants a tender kiss on the back of my hand. He holds my palm against his cheek for a moment, lost in thought, then he turns to me, his gaze penetrating me.
“No matter what happens right now, I want you to know you are loved and you always have been.”
I smile, though it’s a bit forced because I know he’s just as nervous as I am. I don’t like seeing Daimon nervous.
“I’m not trying to placate you,” he continues. “I loved you before I knew you. I know this because my heart recognized you from the first moment I saw you six months ago.”
He brushes my new black hair behind my ear and the sensation of his fingertips on my skin gives me chills. He lightly sweeps the back of his fingers over my left cheek where the makeup is hiding my discoloration.
I reach up to grab his hand, then I hold his palm against my face. “Thank you for turning on the lights and showing me what I could not see.”
The car arrives at the safe house in Silver Lake more than an hour later due to the horrendous L.A. traffic. Though, I must admit, a small part of me is comforted by the gridlock. It means I’m back where it all began, and this will all be over soon.
The house is a 1970s two-story ranch style home set on a half-acre corner lot in the heart of Silver Lake. The home belongs to a couple in their late fifties who retired eleven years ago. Ana and Laurent Durant worked for the Central Directorate of Interior Intelligence (DCRI) in France for many years. It was their son Ivan, whom I met in the DCRI, who introduced me to the couple a few years ago. They helped me get the job with the LAPD, and now they’ve graciously agreed to allow us to use their home as a safe house until we complete the final two items on our list for this mission.
I ring the doorbell, then I place my hand over my gun, preparing myself for the worst. I hear footsteps on the other side of the door, then it swings open and Laurent smiles at me as he glances at my hand positioned over my gun.
“The kittens are in the basement,” he says, uttering the phrase we agreed on ahead of time. It’s the phrase that tells me everything is fine and Alex and I are not walking into a trap.
“I can’t wait to see them,” I reply, lowering my hand.
He opens the door wide and Alex and I step inside the fresh, air-conditioned living room. The space is flooded with light from the large windows and decorated like a resort in Fiji. Even Laurent and Ana are wearing a Hawaiian shirt and summer dress, as if they aren’t just retired, but on vacation.
Ana holds out her arms as she approaches me. She gushes over me in French until I tell her Alex does not speak French yet. She looks back and forth between the two of us for a moment, sort of sizing us up as a couple, then she smiles.
“Le coup de foudre?” Love at first sight?
I chuckle. “For me, yes.”
She turns to Alex. “You are…” She gestures with her hands in an attempt to jog her memory. “How do the American’s say..? Stunning.”
Alex’s lips turn up in a bashful smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She returns Alex’s smile and turns back to me. “Well, I will leave you two to handle your business.”
Laurent places his hand on the back of Ana’s neck. “Yes, we have to do some grocery shopping. Trader Joe’s is having a special on brandy and Ana goes through four bottles a day.”
Ana’s eyes widen and she smacks his chest. “Stop lying! She will think I’m an alcoholic.”
“You are. You’re my alcoholic.”
She pushes him away as he tries to kiss her cheek. “Don’t listen to him. He still hasn’t figured out how to tell the truth after eleven years retired.”
Laurent smiles as he tags along behind her. They wave at us as they leave the house, and when I turn to Alex, she’s staring at the inside of the front door with a wistful expression.
“What are you thinking?” I say, grabbing her hand to lead her upstairs.
She shakes her head and smiles. “Will that be us in thirty years?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to be an alcoholic in thirty years?”
She smacks my arm and I laugh as we reac
h the second floor. “That can be us whenever you want. We can retire tomorrow if that’s your wish.”
I pull her gently toward the first door on our right where one of my guys, Robert, is guarding the door. I nod at Robert and he nods back. Everything is set.
Alex stares at the door and her expression changes. A dark shadow falls over her delicate features. I wish I could go in that bedroom and take care of this without her.
“I don’t want to retire.” She looks into my eyes, and I can see the resolve straightening her backbone. “We’re a team, remember?”
I nod as she reaches for the door handle, and I take a step back to allow her to enter first. This is her demon. She needs to know I trust her to slay it on her own.
After three months in captivity in the basement at our house, my adoptive mother’s face is drawn and her skin is sallow from lack of sunlight. Is that what I used to look like for the first eighteen years of my life? It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters now is she knows I know the truth. She can’t lie to me anymore.
“The truth will set you free,” I say, approaching the chair where my adoptive mother, Lisa Carmichael, is bound and gagged. “You’re the one who taught me that when I was a little girl.”
She glares at me, never flinching. I look over my shoulder and Daimon is standing just outside the bedroom door. I nod for him to come inside and he enters.
Lisa’s eyes widen with terror at the sight of him. She shakes her head as he approaches, and I almost feel sorry for her. Then I think of my years in the basement and the countless times she made me feel less than human, and the pity dissipates into a cloud of dark memories.