That pissed him off, too.
He crawled onto the bed and kneeled between her legs forcing her thighs wide. His hand ran down over her exposed flat white belly then over her thighs. Not gently but with the kind of possession that a girl her age would never have understood. Still, she didn’t fight him.
Reaching down he undid the buttons on his own jeans and lowered them just enough to free his erection. He wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her toward him and up his body. Then seeing the purple lace panties that were in his way, he tore them from her hips. She was open to him, her buttocks resting on his thighs, his sex just at the gate of her slick wet heat.
His plan had been to force himself inside her, high and rough so she would know how far from a game this was. He was so damn aroused that with a few strokes it would be over, and she wouldn’t have come close to finding any pleasure from it. That was what he wanted. She would leave him then, maybe hate him a little and that was what he wanted, too.
I look a little harder than most.
Her words echoed in his ears and he realized that wasn’t the problem. The problem was she saw too damn much.
“It’s okay,” she murmured then, breaking the silence of anticipation.
There it was again. He could see it in her eyes that she knew what he’d planned, and probably why, too. Just to be perverse he did the unexpected.
“Take off your shirt.”
Instantly, she lifted the shirt over her head and flung it away. She was completely exposed to him now. Her body laid out like some kind of sacrificial gift, while the only exposed part of his body was his hard cock. Out of some twisted level of respect he shrugged out of his dark T-shirt and threw it aside, as well.
Then he stared down at the body she’d unveiled. Her breasts were high and firm, he knew that already. But her nipples were impossibly tight given the fact that he hadn’t even touched them yet or taken them into his mouth.
Bending over her, he could see her tilting her chin up, thinking that maybe he would kiss her now, but somehow that seemed too personal, too intimate for what he wanted this to be. Instead, his mouth covered her breast, and he pulled her nipple between his teeth, holding her still for some strong sucking.
Her back arched, higher and higher, as his mouth got more and more demanding. Sighs and moans filled the room, all of them hers. When he lifted his head he could see that her nipple was swollen and colored to a deep brown. His tongue lapped at it once, and her whole body shivered in reaction.
Legs that had been spread on either side of his hips lifted and squeezed his sides in urging. His erection brushed against the soft hair that guarded the center of her body. He was done waiting.
“Behind you. In the drawer.”
She reached back over her head and fumbled with the knob on the drawer of his nightstand. After a second she was able to open it and reached inside for a small box. She pulled the box out and dropped it on the bed next to her. Then she found a small foil packet inside and ripped it open with fingers that he could see were shaking.
“Put it on me.”
She looked up at him, her expression uncertain. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again there was nothing left but determination and need and desire. Desire so raw, he thought that the look in her eyes alone would be enough to get him off. With disciplined abs, she lifted herself into a half crunch and covered him with the condom. Then slowly, deliberately he knew, she lay back down on the bed in offering.
She had to know. She had to know what it did to him to see her like this. And because she did, it angered him all over again. He thrust once, and sent himself deep inside her body. He heard her high-pitched gasp, felt her wet walls close around him, trying it seemed to protect her body against his invasion, but he was too strong and too damn needy to be denied.
He stilled himself for a moment, his natural sexual instincts taking over, as he allowed her to accommodate his thick length. But then she was moving on him, twisting her body in an effort to take more, and pumping her hips feverishly in an effort to find her own pleasure rather than waiting for him to give it to her.
It unraveled him. In seconds their movements fell in sync as he thrust and she pushed. As he pulled and she lifted. His hands dug into her firm ass cheeks and squeezed them as hard as the inner walls of her body squeezed him. He felt her start to tremble around him, watched her body arch again as she dived into her orgasm and he let himself go deep inside of her.
When it was over he pulled himself from her body and discarded the condom. Then he stood next to the bed looking down at her, at her body, naked but for the damn ankle socks. Her eyes were closed and her hands were resting on her breasts as if she was trying to keep her heart inside her rib cage.
This was the moment he should have told her to leave. Do it quick and cold and she could still hate him despite the fact that she’d been pleasured during the sex. Or maybe he could wait, he decided. Just for a little while. He was so damn weary. His muscles, now filled with a postcoital lethargy, seemed to give out to the point that he knew he needed to sit or he would fall. He stripped his jeans and boxers and moved back onto the bed with her.
Instantly, she opened her arms to him. He rested his head on her breasts and felt her legs circle the back of his thighs. One hand stroked his back, the other his head.
“It’s okay,” she whispered to him. “I’ve got you.”
It was so incredibly true, he almost wept.
After an hour he woke, hard and needy. The second time he took her from behind on his knees with her facing away from him. He thought if he couldn’t see her face it would be easier. But when he moved inside of her body, she gripped his hand and pinned it to her breast so that he could feel the rapid pounding of her heart. Not surprisingly, it beat in perfect unison with his.
The third time, he let her make love to him. It was a mistake because her sincerity and devotion during the act touched his soul and weakened his resolve. So much so that the fourth time he made love to her in return.
The next morning he left her in his disheveled bed. The need to escape had been so intense, it almost felt like fear. He couldn’t allow this to happen. Allow her to happen to him. She was a child. She had her whole life ahead of her. She…
Bullshit. She gets too close. She gets too deep. And you hate it because it messes with your control.
So he did the only thing that he thought made sense at the time, all the while telling himself that it was for her own good.
The next time he saw her was the following night. In honor of her promotion to field operative, the director of the Youth Adoption Program had decided to host a cocktail party for a number of politically influential people in an effort to promote the success of the program.
Quinlan recalled the exact instant Sabrina walked through the door of the director’s home, remembered the look in her face as if it was a piece of art he’d studied for years. She’d been so full of life and confidence. She’d looked like a princess ready to ascend the throne and take her rightful place as queen.
When she walked toward him, she beamed. And the brighter her smile got the more his body tensed. He reached out and found the arm of the person he’d brought to help him separate from her.
“Caroline, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
On cue, like the perfect political hostess she’d been raised to be, she turned and offered her hand to Sabrina. The contrast was startling to him.
Caroline was perfectly coiffed, perfectly poised, her cool blue dress was classic and conservative, and her blond hair was pulled back into a smooth tight bun. And her smile, although it was as sincere as she could make it, didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Sabrina on the other hand was all lean and wild energy. Her hair flew about her face, her strapless dress molded her body. It was a choice made by a woman confident in her sexuality and who didn’t care who knew it.
“Q?”
“Q,” Caroline laughed, the sound an el
egant tinkle. “What a horrible nickname. Really, Jack, I do wish you would let people simply call you by your name.”
“Quinlan is my name.”
“And soon it will be mine,” she murmured into his ear. But loud enough for Sabrina to hear. That’s what he wanted. That’s what he’d been waiting for.
His eyes met Sabrina’s and he watched as she began to understand. But it wasn’t happening fast enough. Like any kill he’d ever made, the quicker the better.
“Caroline, this is Sabrina Masters. I’ve told you about her.”
“On a number of occasions,” Caroline confirmed. “So you’re the phenom. Quick, do something brilliant.”
He looked away from Sabrina’s gaze.
“Sorry, I didn’t bring my magic wand to do any tricks.”
Caroline laughed politely, but he could hear the acid in Sabrina’s tone.
“Well, there is one trick I have to thank you for. I think your…we’ll call it graduation…was what finally inspired Jack to make his move. Can you believe I’ve been dating this man for three years and finally today, completely out of the blue, he comes to my house and proposes.”
“Wow,” Sabrina replied, her eyes on him the whole time. This time he didn’t look away. He schooled his expression, knew it was impassive, and let her look all she wanted. It was for the best.
“No ring, mind you, but we’ll fix that shortly. I still can’t believe it.” Caroline turned to him then, her voice soft and sweet. “I knew waiting for you was the right decision.”
He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m so glad you did.”
Sabrina’s eyes didn’t water up. She didn’t scream at him. She didn’t slap him dramatically, or blurt out to Caroline that her fiancé had been buried deep inside her for most of the previous night.
But she was paler and he knew he’d succeeded. This betrayal would penetrate. Right to her core. She might have been able to forgive him for breaking her bones. But she would never forgive him for this. He could feel it.
It was for the best.
“Congratulations. I wish you all the best, Caroline. You, too… Jack. I hope you get everything you deserve.”
Then she turned and walked away, and he decided, he hoped, he would never have to see her again.
Chapter 20
Present
The boat flew across the water as she piloted it over the soft swells. Kahsan kept one eye on her and managed to keep the boy under his physical control, too. Although, given the state of shock the kid was in, it wasn’t a difficult task.
“So you’re the great Sal Ploxm,” Sabrina said, trying to engage the kid enough that he would begin to understand she was not his enemy. Or at least less of a threat than Kahsan. “You know that’s a lousy anagram.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kahsan chimed in. “Smallpox is the worst of all viruses.”
“What’s your real name?”
The boy looked at her, saw what he believed was a killer and blanched to a shocking shade of white. Or he could have just been seasick.
“Your name, kid,” she tried again. “It’s not like it’s a hard question.”
Sabrina figured there had to be some sass in him. He’d been fearlessly and illegally hacking into seemingly impenetrable systems for more than a year and leaving his calling card at every turn. Underneath the pimples had to be someone with a healthy ego. She just needed to push him a little harder to find the right buttons.
Unfortunately, time was quickly running out as the island in front of them seemed to get larger. She’d spotted a small dock jutting off the shore and aimed for it by turning the wheel of the boat slightly to the right.
“Come on,” she pressed. “I’m not asking for your secrets or anything. Just your name.”
“Kev-Kevin,” he stuttered. “Kevin Pollard.”
“Sabrina Masters.”
“I read about you,” he said. “In some CIA files. They talked about what you could do. I didn’t really believe it.”
“No? That hurts, kid.”
“Frankly, I don’t believe it, either.” This from Kahsan, who held his gun, a SIG-Sauer, somewhat casually now. That was a good sign. He was beginning to believe that she wasn’t a threat.
“And why is that?”
“A female genius. Seems somewhat of an oxymoron to me.”
He chuckled and she smiled, but inwardly Sabrina listed one more reason why she hated this guy. Chauvinist pig.
They were almost upon the small island, so she pulled the throttle in reverse to stop their momentum. The boat glided in the water until it bumped up against the crude dock that was only about four feet in length. Sabrina found a rope that was already secured to the motorboat, hopped out quickly and secured it to one of the beams.
She turned around to assess the situation in the boat, looking for an opening to act, but saw that once again Kahsan had his gun pressed to the boy’s side. Kahsan was known for not taking any chances and he was living up to his reputation.
He motioned to Kevin to follow her on to the dock and then quickly stepped up behind him. Sabrina noted for the first time that he carried a small backpack over his right shoulder and couldn’t help but wonder what else he was carrying. She didn’t think it was camping supplies.
The cabin was down a path directly in front of them, snuggled in a thicket of trees. Arnold’s own little world. Sabrina couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sorrow. No doubt he would be irritated with the time she was wasting trying to take on a terrorist when there was work to be done. She only hoped that her instincts about Arnold would bear out.
And she was also sort of hoping that Quinlan was on his way.
It had been an excellent angle. It was a question of trusting the shot. Trusting in her abilities as she never had before. But if he had moved, if he had jerked at the last moment before the bullet hit, if he truly hadn’t trusted her and he had tried to duck…then he was dead.
Or dying.
Her heart and body clenched at the thought. If he was dead at her hand…
No, she wouldn’t think it. She couldn’t believe it and still function.
He was coming eventually, or he was unconscious, in which case she was on her own for the time being. Either way, he’d been spared from being shot by Kahsan. And she was prepared to finish the job. Another gun would have been a plus, but it wasn’t necessary. She had been trained by the best, after all.
Sabrina was the first to approach the cabin. The door swung open, clearly unattached to anything that would hold it in place.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such disarray,” Kahsan noted. “They could have at least locked the door on their way out.”
“There is nothing inside that is valuable to anyone.” She looked at the boy pointedly. “Except to a chosen few, that is.”
Obviously no fire had been left burning, and the miniheaters had all been turned off-probably when they removed Arnold’s body-so there was no difference in the temperature once they stepped inside. The cabin consisted of only one room, though there was a curtain that separated what was basically an attached outhouse. Behind the curtain she could see an actual toilet bowl. That meant, at the very least, the cabin had running water.
But that’s about where the luxuries ended. Studying the space, Sabrina saw the narrow cot where Arnold had slept, the sink and small tub where he had washed, the hot plate and potbellied stove where he had cooked and the workstation where he had developed and protected genius.
The anachronism of the workstation in the primitive setting was startling. It was also a little humbling to know what he’d given up for his work. But she couldn’t think about that now. All of her focus had to be on the task at hand.
“There it is,” she pointed.
A monitor sat on the workstation. Swirls of computer-generated images flashed about the screen. Inside the seemingly innocuous machine was data that would pinpoint several leading terrorists’ locations.
Inside of it was her future. Her salvation. A
nd if she was smart enough-frankly she thought she had an edge-Kahsan’s end.
Kahsan nodded and removed the pack he carried over his shoulder, dropping it at the boy’s feet.
“Let’s get to it, Mr. Ploxm. Make me believe I’ve picked the winning horse.”
He pushed the gun deeper into the boy’s ribs, and Sabrina could see the kid shake in reaction. But he did as instructed and bent over to pick up the pack. From it, he removed a rectangular piece of equipment. It looked like some kind of modified hard drive with a keyboard secured to the top of it. He extracted a few USB cables and began assembling the piece of equipment on the workstation next to Arnold’s computer.
Kevin connected his machine to a port on the back of the computer and on his keyboard hit a button. Instantly, the swirls on Arnold’s monitor were gone. In its place flashed a splash screen that prompted the user to key in a password.
“It’s a PC but this isn’t Windows OS,” he said, clearly surprised.
“Nope,” Sabrina confirmed. “Arnold didn’t believe in using anyone else’s operating system. He built this one himself.”
The kid seemed to absorb this information and continued to tap on the keys of his minicomputer. Only a few minutes passed in silence, but to the group it seemed infinitely longer.
“What’s taking so long?” Kahsan snapped. He stepped up behind the boy and placed the gun to his temple. “Do you need some added incentive?”
“You’re only scaring him,” Sabrina commented.
Leaning against the wall across from the workstation, she crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to appear casual even as she studied the room for potential weapons. So far the most dangerous item she’d spotted was the hot plate and the wood that was piled up by the stove. Neither would do much good against the SIG-Sauer.
Kahsan sneered at her. “We all have our methods of motivation.”
“Right. I gather it must take a tremendous amount of motivation to get someone to strap on a bomb and blow themselves up. And you seem to get people to do that all the time.”
Calculated Risk Page 19