by Jasmine Hill
Makayla gasped in shock, unable to speak for a moment. What the hell did the crazy bitch want with her? She watched silently as Dolores lit the cigarette and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke in Makayla’s direction. Her lips were painted blue-black, her exotic cat’s eyes outlined in inky liner, giving her a sinister appearance. Despite herself, Makayla shuddered, the full impact of her situation hitting her full force. No one knew where she was, only that bartender, but she suspected that he was in on everything that was happening to her now. And Donovan would just think that she’d run off again, as she had the last two times she’d been at Infierno.
She eyed the woman across the car. Surely she wouldn’t be kidnapping her to hurt her. Why would she do that?
As if reading her thoughts, Dolores spoke, her sexy accent at odds with her spiteful demeanor. “I’m not going to hurt you, angel. Isn’t that what the King calls you? His angel and his baby?”
Makayla remained silent, not wanting to antagonize her.
Dolores blew a cloud of smoke in the air. “You don’t have to answer. I know that he does.”
The interior of the car was lighter now that they’d moved into an area where the streetlights were brighter and more numerous.
“I can’t quite work out what he sees in you.” Dolores looked her up and down critically. “Although I suppose you have a certain innocence that appeals to him. I know him well enough to see that. It would fascinate the Dom in him.” She sighed, crossing one leg over the other and resting her head back against the seat. “You know, he is the best Dom. Certainly the best I’ve ever had.” She straightened and glared at Makayla. “And here he is, smitten with you.” She smiled slyly. “I wonder if he’s been totally honest with you, angel? I wonder, has he told his precious baby everything?”
Makayla grew tired of listening to her ramble. She frowned. “What are you talking about, Dolores, and what possessed you to kidnap me, for God’s sake?”
“Don’t call me that.” Dolores’ eyes flashed angrily. “I go by Lola or Lolita.”
Makayla crossed her arms impatiently. “What. Do. You. Want?”
“Why, Makayla, I’m just trying to do the right thing by you. I’m sure, when you hear what I have to tell you, you’ll be horrified. I thought it best to tell you myself, seeing as Donovan obviously has no intention of doing so.”
“Tell me what?” Makayla snapped crossly. “That you’re his ex-submissive or his ex-girlfriend? He already told me that.”
Dolores smiled at her, a wide cat-ate-the-canary smile. “Yes,” she agreed. “I am his ex-girlfriend. I stopped being his girlfriend when I became his wife.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
For the fucking umpteenth time this trip, Donovan was furious. He’d gone back to the scene room to find Makayla gone, after he’d been called away to what had amounted to a wild goose chase.
He stalked to the front desk and interrogated Carlos, only to find out that he hadn’t been there when Makayla left—if in fact she had even left the premises. It worried him that Carlos hadn’t been at the desk, which meant that anyone could have wandered in. Thoughts of the biker asshole were uppermost in his mind. It was unusual that Carlos left his post at the door without having someone fill in for him, but Donovan would deal with that later.
“Fuck,” he roared, gripping his hair in his fists and pacing the length of the club entrance. He took a couple of deep breaths. He had to settle down and regroup.
He called Fernando at the hotel and asked him to check their suite to see if Makayla had been there. He tried her mobile number numerous times, but the fucking thing just rang.
He waited at the bar for Fernando to call him back and ordered a scotch, downing the liquor in one gulp then ordering another. He drummed his fingers on the bar impatiently then answered his mobile as soon as it buzzed.
“King, she hasn’t even been here,” Martínez informed him over the phone. “I’ve checked both the suite and the security system. Your suite’s not been accessed since you two left.”
Donovan thanked him. He was already on his way to the Infierno manager’s office before he’d hung up. He shoved the door open, flinging it back on its hinges in his haste.
The manager shot up from his desk in surprise.
“I need to see the security footage for tonight,” Donovan ordered in Spanish. “My girlfriend is missing and she was last seen here.”
The manager was already at the bank of CCTV screens, rewinding the footage to after Donovan and Makayla had entered the scene room. Donovan saw himself leave the room after they’d first been disturbed. He waited with bated breath as the manager fast-forwarded the footage.
“Paralo,” Donovan yelled when he saw a man approach the door. The manager stopped the footage and they both watched as a guy entered the room, Makayla exiting with him a couple of minutes later.
Donovan leaned toward the screen. That was the new bartender. What the fuck was he doing with Makayla? A frisson of fear worked its way down his spine. He didn’t like this at all.
“Where is that motherfucker now?” Donovan snarled, his body tight with tension.
The manager looked at his watch. “Fuera del trabajo.”
Fuck, of course he’d be off work. “I’ll need his details,” Donovan snapped. “He’s just about to get a wake-up call!”
* * * *
Makayla froze in shock. Dolores had to be lying. She’d wanted to cause trouble as soon as she’d seen Makayla and Donovan together.
“You’re lying,” she accused.
Dolores laughed, a surprisingly sweet sound for such a vicious woman. “Do you think I’d just come to you without proof? I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” She switched on a small overhead light. With the sudden illumination, Makayla could see the other woman fully. She wore a tight black jumpsuit and knee-high boots. The outfit and the eye makeup made her look like Batman’s Catwoman, the bizarre resemblance sending Makayla into a sudden giggling fit.
The other woman glared at her. “What are you laughing about? I assure you, princess, there’s nothing funny about this.” She reached into a handbag, extracted a folder and handed it to Makayla. “What is it you English speakers say? ‘Read it and weep.’”
She took the folder hesitantly. She didn’t want to read what was inside. She just wanted this crazy woman to let her out of the car so she could forget she’d ever set eyes on her.
Dolores blew a smoke ring into the air and smirked at her. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Makayla opened the folder with shaking hands and withdrew a sheet of paper. Although written in Spanish, she could tell it was an official document of some sort and looked suspiciously like a marriage certificate.
Dolores leaned forward and withdrew a second sheet. “This is the English version,” she said, nodding at Makayla to take it from her.
She gripped the paper, knowing what she’d read on the document but wanting desperately to delay the inevitable. She looked down with blurred vision, the import taking a moment to sink in, but the meaning was undeniable. It was a marriage certificate detailing the marriage between Donovan Antonio King and Dolores María Sanchez. She scanned the document for the date.
She looked at Dolores. “This is dated over two years ago. A lot could have happened between then and now.”
“Yes,” the other woman conceded. “But it hasn’t. We might not have”—she waved a hand in the air—“seen a lot of each other lately, but it doesn’t change anything. He’s still my husband.”
Makayla shook her head, trying to regain some perspective. “You could be divorced, or legally separated for all I know. This doesn’t prove anything.” She held up the sheet of paper.
“If that was the case, why wouldn’t Donovan have told you? Instead, he’s kept it from you.”
Why would Donovan have hidden this from her? He could have confided in her, but he had said very little about his relationship with Dolores. Had he been so vague because he had something to hide? Makayla chewed her bottom
lip. She didn’t know what to think.
“What do you want from me?” she finally asked.
“I want you to go back to wherever you came from. I want you out of Donovan’s life.”
Makayla glared at her. “Why would I do that without even speaking to Donovan about this? At the moment, I only have your word that this marriage is still valid.”
Dolores held up a mobile phone. “Perhaps this will convince you.” She swiped her finger across the screen. “It’s audio only, but I’m sure you’ll recognize the voices.”
She heard Donovan speaking. It was a little distorted but totally recognizable.
“Why did you visit my parents?”
Then Dolores’ voice. “I was telling them about us.”
“They know about us?”
“I wanted to show them a picture of Donny. You know they love him.”
“Yes. They do love Donny.” Donovan’s voice turned hard. “But you have to stop this.”
“What? Stop them from seeing their grandson? Stop them knowing about us?”
“Yes. Exactly that!”
Makayla had heard enough. “Please, stop it.”
Dolores dropped her mobile with a satisfied smile. “That is why you need to leave, angel. We have a child together—a family.” She gave Makayla a condescending look. “You are just a diversion for him. He’ll never leave me. I am his wife and the mother of his child, even his parents acknowledge that.”
Makayla stared at the woman sitting across from her. The evidence did seem irrefutable. “Who is Donny?” she asked.
Dolores grinned, this time with no malice. She handed Makayla a photo of a little brown-haired boy. Makayla studied it. The boy did look a little like Donovan, and had similar features. She looked closer and saw the resemblance around the mouth and nose. She was sure this boy was related to Donovan. In fact, everything that Dolores had produced was pointing straight to the fact that Donovan was a grade-A asshole.
Nausea swept through her. What had she done? She’d had an affair with a married man. A married man with a child, no less. She had to do what this bitch asked of her. She needed to leave. “Stop the car!”
Dolores arched an eyebrow and tapped the privacy window. “Where are you going?”
The driver slowed to a stop.
Makayla looked at her incredulously. “I want to go back to the hotel. I require my passport and personal effects. I can’t leave without them.”
“There’s no need,” Dolores informed her tersely. “I had someone retrieve your passport from Donovan’s suite. I have everything here.” She passed Makayla a travel wallet. “I’m going to take you to an airport hotel, so you can leave first thing tomorrow. Everything’s been arranged.”
“This is crazy,” Makayla spat. “You should be locked up!”
Dolores gave her a hard look. “Do you really want to go back to him now? Now that you know that he’s lied to you? You’ve been sleeping with a married man. Are you that immoral that it doesn’t concern you?”
She was right. If Makayla went back to the hotel, Donovan would find her and no doubt try to talk her into staying. She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist him if he did that. No, she had no choice but to go along with the bitch. Makayla had never had so many vicious thoughts about a person. This woman was really doing her head in.
“Fine,” she conceded. “Take me to this hotel. You’ve obviously made a booking for me.”
Dolores smiled. “I have. I expected you to do the right thing eventually, and you know as well as I that Donovan won’t let you go without a fight. He’s a Dom, and used to getting his way. Women don’t leave Donovan. Only he decides when a relationship has to end.” She shrugged. “But with you out of the country, he’ll soon see the error of his ways.”
Makayla sat back in her seat and stared out of the window. She was going home, and she’d never see Donovan again. The thought tightened her chest painfully. She loved him, she realized. Why did she have to go and fall in love with him? He was obviously a lying scumbag, a cheating, lying scumbag. But she wouldn’t think about him now, she had to focus on the immediate future. She’d concentrate on getting home. She’d pick up her mother from the treatment facility, then she’d go about mending her broken heart and forgetting about the fact that she’d ever met Donovan King.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Donovan bashed his fist on the bartender’s door. After about fifteen minutes of banging, the fuckwit finally opened it. Donovan stepped over the threshold, shoving the guy hard.
“Where the fuck is Makayla?” he snarled.
The guy rubbed his eyes, looking confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the woman you left Infierno with.” Donovan poked him in the chest, emphasizing each word. “Where. Is. She?”
Realization dawned on his face. “You must be the King.”
“Yes. And you just fucked with my girlfriend. Kiss your job goodbye, asshole.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who she was. Some woman paid me one hundred euros to tell her that Donovan was waiting for her in a car out front.”
“Where did they go?”
“That’s all I know.”
Donovan glared at him a moment longer, but he thought that the jerk was telling the truth. This whole thing smacked of Dolores’ work.
He stormed out of the apartment, his mind working furiously. Where the fuck could they be? He stood on the pavement and shoved his hands through his hair in frustration. His mobile buzzed. “Makayla!”
“No, it’s Fernando. Have you found her yet?”
“Not yet. I think she’s with Dolores.”
“I just thought of something. Remember when you arrived, you asked me about a GPS tracking app for mobile phones?”
Donovan’s eyes widened with the realization. He hailed the next cab.
Fernando kept talking. “Did you end up downloading it?”
“Yes. You’re a genius, Martínez. I’m coming back to the hotel. I need to borrow your car.”
Donovan hung up. How could he have forgotten that he had that tracking app? He’d been worried that Makayla would get lost and he’d downloaded the application so he could assist her if necessary. He pulled up the GPS tracker and waited for it to update. According to the application, she was somewhere near the airport. Fuck, he hoped she wasn’t at the actual airport. He prayed to God that he’d get to her in time.
* * * *
Makayla got out of the car. She felt as if she were in a parallel universe, and she couldn’t believe that only an hour previously she’d been at Infierno with Donovan.
Dolores leaned out of the window. “Have a safe flight,” she said in parting.
She had to hold it together at least until she reached Sydney. When she got home, she had all the time in the world to cry. She didn’t have any luggage. It hadn’t been lost on Makayla that Dolores had retrieved her passport, but obviously hadn’t been bothered with any of her personal things. She’d really wanted to make Makayla feel as uncomfortable as possible.
She decided not to think too deeply about how Dolores had managed to get access to their suite. After all, she’d gained access once before, so she probably hadn’t found it too difficult. Perhaps they hadn’t gotten around to taking her off Donovan’s list of visitors. She looked down at what she was wearing. She couldn’t get on an aircraft wearing this get-up. She’d just been at a BDSM club, for God’s sake. She strode into the lobby of the hotel and nearly died of relief when she caught sight of a boutique. She walked straight over to it, surprised that it was still open, and chose a pair of shorts, a blouse with ‘I Love Madrid’ embroidered on the pocket and a pair of heeled sandals. She also bought some basic toiletries and a small carry-on bag. She changed in the changing room and instantly felt more at ease.
She checked in and found her room, suddenly feeling exhausted, which was hardly surprising since it was two in the morning. She wanted nothing more than a shower then to slip between cool sh
eets. Tomorrow, she’d think about her situation. She was undecided about contacting Donovan before she left. He was probably going absolutely crazy wondering where she was, but then again, after what she’d learned about him that evening, he really had no right to be worrying about her.
Makayla stepped into the shower and thought back to the conversation that Dolores had recorded, and replayed it in her mind. While Donovan hadn’t directly said anything about their relationship, he also hadn’t denied Dolores’ leading statements. If they were no longer together, why hadn’t he confirmed it? Instead, he’d just complained about her seeing his parents. That alone was enough to tell her that there was something more between them than Donovan had led her to believe. And there was the little boy, Donny, who looked so much like Donovan, and when Dolores had called Donovan’s parents his grandparents, he hadn’t denied it. Why would he need to keep his son a secret? There was only one explanation, and it was that Dolores was telling the truth.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a hotel bathrobe. She pulled the covers back on the bed and slipped between the sheets. She was so exhausted she didn’t even have the energy to cry. A numbness had taken her over, leaving her feeling disconnected from her body, as if the events of the last few hours had happened to someone else. She supposed it was better than being bombarded by all the raw emotions that she knew would come eventually. At least she could harden herself at the moment, go through the motions of getting on the aircraft and make it back home safely and as quickly as possible.
* * * *
Donovan drove like a madman to the airport. He’d quickly checked all the flights to Sydney via Dubai and there were none leaving until tomorrow afternoon. Therefore, he assumed that Makayla would be at one of the airport hotels nearby. He checked the GPS tracker. Her position hadn’t moved. He headed toward the airport. There were two hotels near her position and he guessed she was in one of them. He arrived at the first one, pulled the car into the parking lot and raced inside to the reception desk.