Iron Princess

by Meghan March

  Kane’s jaw tightens, and I suddenly wonder how badly I screwed up by not giving Elijah a heads-up that we were coming, because it looks like I’m about to witness a brawl.

  “Don’t you fucking talk to her like that.” Kane steps in front of me, his hands clenching into fists by his side.

  “I’ll talk to her however the hell I want. You’re in my house, on my property, and I make the rules here.”

  “I’m sorry, Eli. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Kane shoots a look at me over his shoulder. “Don’t apologize to him.”

  He faces off with Elijah in the center of the large metal building. There are way too many potential weapons within reach, and I’m regretting my impulse to come here.

  “You want to come into my house and talk shit? Think you can take me, tough guy?”

  “Apologize to the lady.” It’s an order from Kane.

  “I’m not apologizing for shit. She knows better. She doesn’t bring anyone here, and if she does, they aren’t leaving.”

  Kane has a gun at Elijah’s temple before I even see him pull it. “Is that right?”

  “Please, Kane. Don’t. He doesn’t mean to be a dick. He just can’t help it sometimes.”

  Kane doesn’t even look at me. “No one talks to her like that. I don’t give a fuck who you are or how many cars you chop. I will bury you in your own backyard, motherfucker.”

  There’s a long moment of silence, and I wonder if Elijah is going to break or if I’m going to have to grab a wrench to swing at both their heads before someone does die.

  “Fuck you,” Elijah grits out.

  Great.

  “Stop. Both of you. Please.” I look at Elijah. “He’s protecting me because Rafe got into some bad shit. Mount’s orders. He’s not going to say anything to anyone.”

  “Temperance,” Kane starts, but Elijah’s eyes widen as he looks from me to Kane.

  “You’re one of his fucking lackeys, aren’t you? Think you’re a big shot because your boss owns downtown?”

  “I’m nobody’s anything, but if you don’t apologize to Temperance, then I’ll be the guy who gives you a world-class beating as a lesson on how to treat women before I end you.”

  “Eli, apologize, goddammit!”

  Elijah must hear the desperation in my tone, but I have no doubt that Kane will follow through. Elijah may be a hotshot in the bayou, but Kane is in a whole different league.

  “Sorry, Tempe. You know I didn’t mean it.”

  “I know.” I shift my gaze to Kane. “Please put the gun away. We’re all on the same team here.”

  “You mean Team: I’ve Nailed Temperance?” Elijah says with a smirk.

  Oh my God! How stupid are men sometimes?

  Kane pulls back the hammer.

  “Kane! Please don’t.”

  “The only reason I’m not pulling this trigger is because she asked me not to. Apologize again and watch your fucking mouth.”

  Elijah meets my gaze, and there’s a small measure of sincerity in it. “I’m sorry, Temperance. Please ask your guard dog not to kill me.”

  “He’s not going to kill you. You don’t need killing.” I say it with confidence and know I’m speaking the truth. “This isn’t his style.”

  “If he doesn’t keep his mouth shut, he might prove you wrong,” Kane says as he lowers the gun.

  Elijah backs up, readjusting his shirt and taking Kane’s measure. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Mount sent someone to protect her. Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Elijah jerks his chin. “Want to make sure she’s safe.”

  I expect Kane to tell him to go fuck himself, but he doesn’t.

  “They call me Saxon.”

  If I thought Elijah’s eyes widened before, this time they look like they’re about to pop out of his fool head.

  “No fucking way,” he whispers, looking from me to Kane. “He’s a goddamned hit man, Temperance. Not a bodyguard. Jesus Christ.”

  “I know. It’s fine.” I step closer to Kane, hoping to present a united front. Almost as if he can’t help it, his arm curls around my waist.

  “It’s not fucking fine. You don’t know who he is. They say he’s never missed a mark. Always delivers.” Elijah shifts uncomfortably, his gaze bouncing between us. “Never not completed a contract, so he gets paid mad money.”

  Something unsettling takes up residence in my gut at Elijah’s fear and awe. I look up at Kane. “Is that true? You’ve really never not completed a job? So, Rafe . . .”

  Elijah stares at where Kane’s hand rests on my hip. “Wait, you’re telling me this guy took a hit on your brother? And you’re . . .” He waves a finger between us. “Fucking him? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  Kane tenses beside me, and I know I have to defuse the situation before it turns explosive.

  “I’m not explaining myself to you, Eli.”

  “Well, you should explain it to someone so they can tell you how fucked up this is.”

  “End of subject. Unless you’ve seen Rafe. That would be helpful to know.”

  Elijah’s jaw sets in a stubborn line, and for a moment I think he’s not going to reply.

  Finally, he shakes his head. “No. I had a job I thought he might want, so I texted him. No answer. Not for over a week. I figured he finally got busted and I just hadn’t heard about it. What kind of bad shit he get into, anyway?”

  “Long story.”

  Elijah shrugs. “Figures. Even a Ransom’s luck can’t last forever.”

  25

  Kane

  The son of a bitch is lucky I didn’t kill him. Temperance was right—he didn’t need killing, but he’s asking for it all the same with every other word out of his mouth. It takes everything I have not to pull the trigger in the next two hours while Temperance works.

  It’s not until we’re carrying Temperance’s piece out to the Tahoe that he drops his last bomb.

  “I know where I seen you before. The corner café near Tempe’s. I should’ve recognized you.”

  “You’re going to forget you recognize me now if you want to live.”

  He bristles. “I don’t like you.”

  “And I don’t give a fuck whether you like me or not.”

  “Stop arguing, you two! I swear, you’re worse than Eli’s junkyard dogs.”

  “What? Can you blame us? We both want to mark you as our territory,” the piece of shit says.

  “Watch it,” I snap.

  “Enough. Thank you for letting me work here today, Eli. Call me if you hear anything about Rafe at all. Anything. Please. You know he’s all I’ve got left.”

  The fucker gives her a hug and shoots me a smug grin. My fingers itch to shove my .45 in his face again.

  As soon as we drive out of the scrap yard and I turn onto the road, I turn to Temperance and deliver a verdict I know she’s not going to want to hear.

  “You’re not coming back here.”

  “What?” She whips her head to the side to look at me, and the blue bandana she wore to keep her hair tied back on the airboat and while she worked slides down.

  “I don’t like him.”

  “Pretty sure the feeling is mutual.”

  “I don’t give a shit about that.”

  “Then what is it if not a dick-measuring contest?”

  “I don’t trust him. He chops cars, which means he’s got connections and weaknesses. Someone could get to him and turn him. It’s too risky.”

  Temperance turns to me like I’ve just told her the guy is a serial killer. “I’ve known Eli my whole life. He’s not going to sell me out.”

  I slow for a stop sign. “If you believe that, you’re more naive than I thought.”

  She crosses her arms. “And this is why you’re a loner.”

  “It keeps me alive.”

  “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.” She says it with quiet force and then quickly looks away. There’s something more going on here.
r />   “What?”

  “He cheated on me . . . but it was because he wanted me to leave the bayou. Didn’t want me to stay and live this life, because I wanted out so bad.” Temperance pauses. “He let me go, even though he didn’t want to.”

  “That doesn’t mean he won’t try to drag you back if he gets the chance.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Bullshit, it’s not. It’d be like that for any man who let you go. You think he’s not dying to have you back, have another shot?”

  “So this isn’t about my safety. It’s because you’re jealous.”

  I open my mouth to say something else, but I snap it shut. I can’t say I’m not jealous. I’ve never been jealous before, so this is my first experience with the emotion.

  Either way, it doesn’t matter. Only one thing does—keeping Temperance safe.

  I stay quiet, but one question eats at me.

  Will I be able to let her go?

  Maybe Elijah is the better man, because I can’t see how that’s possible.

  26

  Temperance

  Kane and I part ways in silence when we return to the warehouse. I’m still raging about the pissing contest he got into with Elijah as I shower, change into another pair of clean ripped jeans, and get sucked into all the emails that piled up while we were out chasing ghosts. I shoot Valentina a note telling her that I have another finished piece.

  How dare he tell me I can’t go back to the scrap yard? He doesn’t get to make that call.

  I wolf down food from the fridge when Kane doesn’t reappear for hours. I assume he’s in the heart of the bat cave, trying to track down Rafe or the people who want him dead.

  Rafe is smart, I remind myself. No one will find him unless he wants them to.

  Except he was stupid enough to get himself into this mess, which makes me want to slap him upside the head.

  I hop off the stool I’ve been on and pace the floor, racking my brain about how the hell to get us out of this clusterfuck, and where I’m going to get more scrap metal and a torch to make more sculptures for Valentina if I can’t go to Elijah’s. I don’t realize I’m stomping loud enough to imitate a herd of elephants until Kane finally appears behind me, scaring the ever-loving hell out of me.

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  “You still pissed?”

  “Yes.” I don’t even try to lie. I also try not to notice that he showered and changed and smells ridiculously good.

  “Come on. We’re leaving.”

  I let go of my anger for a hot second. “Did you find something? A lead?”

  He doesn’t answer, just heads for the elevator.

  “But—”

  He opens the gate. “You coming or not?”

  Am I going to put my blind trust in a hit man who thinks he can order me around? I spin on my heel and follow him. Apparently, I am.

  “Where are we going?” I ask a short while later.

  He tugged the beanie off my head when we hit the outskirts of town. It’s dark now, and I probably should be wondering if I made a mistake trusting him, but I don’t.

  “You’ll see.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He grunts and takes an unlit road. It’s another ten minutes before I realize where we’re going and my mouth drops open. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We can’t be here!”

  He shoots me a look across the front seat of the Tahoe. “Why not?”

  I wave both hands in front of me, gesturing to my makeup-free face, ripped jeans, and T-shirt that’s seen many a better day, including when I got it in college.

  “I can’t be here. They’ll throw me out. It has to be a violation of some dress code no one told me about.”

  The headlights illuminate the wrought-iron gate at the end of the road in front of us, and my brief moment of panic fades into the anger that I was already dying to set free.

  “Turn this car around. Right now. I want to go home.” I sound like a spoiled little brat, but I don’t care. I’m not going to humiliate myself by being paraded through that gorgeous mansion wearing clothes I’d only wear to the scrap yard.

  He brakes at the gate and rolls down the window before barking out Saxon to the speaker. He closes the window before I hear if there’s any response, but the gate swings open and he continues through.

  “Don’t you dare do this to me. I’m not in the mood, Kane. Or Saxon. Or whoever the hell you are tonight. Take me home.”

  He glances over at me. “No.”

  Lord, save me from alpha males who think they can control me.

  I lock my arms over my chest again. “I’m not getting out of the car. You can go right ahead and get out, and I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.”

  He says nothing, just puts the Tahoe in park once we reach the valet.

  “I’m not doing this.” My voice wobbles, and I’d be lying if the heat of my anger hadn’t somehow managed to find its way between my legs.

  I will never admit it.

  When the valet opens the door, Kane gives him a nod and climbs out. I stay in my seat.

  It’s not like he’s going to—

  My thoughts are cut off when Kane rounds the hood and yanks open the passenger door. “Seat belt.”

  “Not going.”

  “Seat belt,” he repeats.

  “Fuck. You.” I whisper the two words quietly enough that even the valet, who is waiting outside Kane’s open door, can’t hear them.

  “No, princess. Tonight, I’m fucking the sass right out of you.”

  His hand snakes out, and instead of going for the buckle like I anticipate, he reaches for the top of the belt, near my shoulder, and something flashes in the dome light. The seat belt drops into my lap before being sucked away.

  A knife. No way. He didn’t.

  But while I’m still grappling with the fact that Kane cut my seat belt off, he reaches for me and lifts me out of the car before tossing me over his shoulder.

  “Oh, don’t you—”

  “I’m taking the back entrance,” he says to someone I can’t see.

  “Don’t you dare think about taking my back entrance, you ass. I said I wanted to go—”

  He laughs, hefting me higher on his shoulder. “You don’t know what you need sometimes, princess. But I see it. That heat running in your blood, telling you to push against me. But what you really need is to show me exactly why you kept coming back, even when you told yourself you shouldn’t.”

  I hear a creaking door, and then we’re inside and going down some stairs.

  “You need someone to channel your energy. Tell you it’s okay to want more. To show you how to take more. I’m not your jailer, your assistant, or your fucking bodyguard, Temperance. I’m your man, and it’s time to remind you exactly why you want me to be.”

  His declarations pummel me, and I’m too speechless to contest them because I’m stuck on one big one—I’m your man.

  Is that what he is? I haven’t let myself consider the possibility that there’s any chance we can have something outside this crazy situation. It’s been tearing me to shreds thinking that once this is over, he’ll be gone, and I’ll be left with nothing but memories of the one time in my life when I found a man who was my equal.

  My man.

  A shiver zips down my spine, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that we’re stepping into a room that is completely foreign to me.

  Kane lowers me to my feet and cups both my cheeks in his hands. “That’s right, princess. Your man. That’s what I am. You get that?” He locks me in place with his intense stare. “I’m gonna need you to tell me you understand and that you want this.”

  I press my lips together, overwhelmed by the massive wave of emotions rolling through me.

  “You with me? If you’re not, you say the word and we walk back out that door.”

  I tear my gaze from his and scan the room. “Where are we?”

  “A BDSM room.”


  A rush of excitement hits me, and my thighs clench together.

  “Yes or no, Temperance. Make your decision.”

  It’s already a foregone conclusion what I’m going to say. It always is with Kane.

  “Yes.”

  As soon as the word leaves my lips, Kane releases my face, picks me up, and bends me over some kind of bench.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure there’s no fucking confusion about who you belong to. Have you ever been restrained?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “You’re about to be. If it’s too much, all you have to do is say no, or stop. You don’t need a fancy safe word to get me to quit if you’ve had enough.” He pauses with his hand on my ankle. “You good with that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl.” He wraps restraints around my ankles and wrists, then buckles them.

  I tug at the softly lined cuffs and my heart beats faster, this time not out of anger, but anticipation mixed with a small dose of fear. His hands wrap around my waist, and I soak in the warmth of his body. This man has unleashed something wild in me. Something that needs his brand of dominance to be satisfied.

  Kane makes quick work of the button on my jeans, and he tugs them down over my ass, along with my thong, and wastes no time delivering the first light smack to my right cheek.

  My spine arches, as if seeking more.

  “You think I don’t know you need this? You think I can’t tell when you’re feeling unsure and scared and don’t know how to ask for what you need to make it all go away? I see you, Temperance. I see every single part of you—even the ones you don’t want to see yourself.”

  How does he see that part of me when I’m afraid to admit it exists?

  He lands another strike, and I push into it. He rubs my heated skin, soothing the burn and intensifying it at the same time.

  “This ass? It’s mine. I will spank it, plug it, fuck it, and do whatever else I want to it.” Another blow connects and I moan. “And you’re going to love every single goddamn minute of it because . . . You. Are. Mine.” He punctuates each blow with another slap, lighting up every nerve ending under my skin.