by Alta Hensley
Maddox chuckled. “Who said anything about sleep? We are going to step across the hall. By the time I’m done with you, I’ll have you eating those words.”
“Ah, now that I am ready for,” Adira said, a smile lighting her entire face.
Stryder returned with the pad and charcoal pencil, placing them on the table where she’d worked earlier. Zoya walked towards him as Maddox carried Adira out the door. Sliding into the chair Stryder pulled out for her, she looked up at him.
“I know I told your father I’d go to bed after this, but maybe Maddox has the right idea.” Picking up the pencil and flipping open the cover of the tablet, she said, “You promised that a nice workout would relieve the tension in my shoulders, remember? I don’t think they’d mind if we joined them in the gym when I’m done.”
His eyes seemed to be smoldering, the corner of his mouth twitching, his eyebrow quirking as he bent close. “What I seem to remember is promising to make you pay for forcing me to run. And,” his eyes cut to the door again, “my dear, if I know my brother, and I do, he is not talking about a workout. At least not one taking place in the gym.”
“What do you mean, and don’t tell me ignorance is bliss.”
This time his smile was large enough to cause the dimple in his cheek to be revealed. Tapping his finger against the blank sheet, he said, “Finish the portrait for Anson and then we’ll talk.”
“About what?” she asked, her tummy flipping at the look in his eyes and what seemed like a promise in his voice.
“Let’s just leave it at bliss, shall we?”
That was enough to have her swallowing hard and her fingers gripping the charcoal pencil tighter as she began to stroke it across the page. As much as she wanted to discover what he meant, the moment she began to draw, as Sophia’s face began to emerge, everyone else disappeared. She’d promised to help… anything else would have to wait.
Once she was done, she stood and moved to the monitors where Anson and Stryder were working. Handing the pad to Anson, she then looked at the screen to see that Anson had changed the display. The screen was now split into two sections. The top section held each woman’s photo next to that of a man’s… the one who had purchased her. The bottom section held only one photo, hers under the heading, “Safe.” Her heart clenched at knowing she was the only woman not still living in terror.
Forcing herself to again look at the top section, she saw that Natalia and Montez were the first pair. Her eyes continued to drop further to find Anya and…
“This is wrong,” she said, leaning forward and pointing.”
“Are you sure?” Stryder asked. “You were already off the stage when Anya was—”
“Sold?” Zoya said bluntly. “I know but I was there when Poplov started the entertainment. Anya wasn’t purchased by this man.” Her finger slid down the monitor and then tapped against another man’s face. “This man bought her.”
Anson leaned closer. “They do bear a similarity to each other, but how can you be so sure?”
“Because of the tattoo on his wrist. I saw it when he had his hand behind Anya’s head, holding her while she… while he fucked her mouth. This is the man who has her.”
Without a word, Anson manipulated the mouse, moving the correct picture into place. “Anything else seem wrong?”
Zoya took her time, and then shook her head. “Only that there is only one photo below the safe line.”
“Then I’ll send the array over to Hadi. We’ll regroup tomorrow.” Anson placed his hand on Zoya’s arm. “Thank you. I know this was hard, but it’s vital we have it correct. You helped us do that and we are going to do our very best to move every woman’s photo below the line.”
Stryder stood and, like Maddox before him, scooped his save into his arms.
“I’m a little tired,” she admitted, the stress just now threatening to strip every ounce of energy from her.
“That’s fine, as I’m putting you to bed,” Stryder said.
Zoya laid her head against his chest, and it took her a moment to see the door that was across the hall as Stryder paused to tell his brother that he’d done a great job. Once he stepped over the threshold, she pointed towards the door.
“Is that the gym?”
“No.”
She saw the keypad, snatches of conversations returning despite her fatigue. “Is that your dungeon?”
His stride had been long but with her question, he paused. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. “So that’s the secret Adira was talking about.”
“Adira told you about the playroom?”
“Well, not really. She said she had been sworn to secrecy but when Maddox mentioned the room across the hall, and you said they weren’t going to the gym, and… um, I sort of heard part of the conversation you and Anson had in the truck, and you talked about bliss…” Seeing his brow lift, she felt a delicious shiver run over her and asked the question she suddenly had to have answered. “Will you show me sometime?”
When he didn’t answer, just started walking again, she wondered if she’d gone too far. He hadn’t seemed to mind when she’d teased him earlier but she was getting the distinct impression that he wouldn’t find any jokes or flippant remarks about his dungeon, or playroom, amusing. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Then why did he sound so far away even though she was as close to him as possible? “I meant that it wasn’t my intention to upset you or make light of something that is obviously very important to you.”
He still remained silent as they’d stepped back into the office and he was striding towards her room. Once inside, he kicked the door closed and carried her to the bed, not dropping her onto the surface but sitting on it, holding her on his lap. “You didn’t upset me, Zoya. You just surprised me. Yes, it’s a special room. A dungeon when needed, a playroom most of the time.”
She could feel her heart speed up with his words and with his touch as he cupped her face between his palms. “You asked if I’d show it to you and the answer is that I’d love to, that I would enjoy showing you every piece of equipment, introduce you to every implement. It’s not a place where you go without understanding… make that without an understanding between two people what happens once the door closes. It’s not for the faint of heart. If we enter together, you will obey every order given with the knowledge that I would never harm you. Give you pain as well as pleasure, definitely, but harm you, never.”
While she didn’t fully understand everything he’d said, it didn’t matter. She understood enough to know that she trusted him and if it meant that he would teach her, claim her, she knew her answer. “Take me there.”
Deep brown eyes held hers and he nodded. “I will, but not tonight.”
“Because Maddox—”
“That’s part of it, but mostly because you are tired and I have other plans.” With that, he slid her off his lap and reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head. It took only moments to remove her underwear and a few more to shed his clothes. Settling on the bed again, he grinned and drew her over his lap, patting her bottom.
“It’s time to show you that I am a man of my word. I promised to show you what happens to little girls who force me to run.”
She tensed for only an instant when his palm lifted but when it descended, the sting of the stroke was instantly rubbed away with a gentle caress. Smiling, she laid her cheek onto her folded hands and closed her eyes. By the tenth swat, her legs had opened to allow his hand access, fingers stroking against her core, warming her in yet another way. Her moans filled the room as her hips began to move, to lift to meet each blow only to lower to press against his other hand. Pain followed by pleasure… both sensations incredibly erotic, completely satisfying. When she climaxed, it seemed to last forever, his slaps and strokes continuing until she felt as limp as a noodle.
He moved her, positioning her beneath him. His lips found hers as he slid inside and she moa
ned again at the rightness of it all. Stryder made love to her gently, slowly, kissing her mouth, her throat, her breasts. Her legs wrapped around him, her hands gripping his ass, pulling him closer until he too moaned, coming with her as they found the bliss he’d talked about. When he moved her again, spooning against her back, his arm around her waist, holding her close, he said, “Sleep, Zoya.” And as she was learning she craved to do, she obeyed.
Chapter 15
Stryder had slept in Zoya’s bed with her all night, and was happy that she had managed to find sleep that had blessedly been free of any nightmares. Carrying his mug of coffee, he entered the tunnel. Seeing the door to the dungeon instantly had him thinking of the woman he’d left curled up in the warm bed he’d slipped from. Her request that he show her what was behind the door had filled his night with thoughts, as well as incredibly vivid images of Zoya bound in any one of infinite poses, naked and eager to learn what he could teach her. When he snuck out in the early morning, it had taken every ounce of control not to roll her over and thrust his cock back into her, and his present thoughts weren’t helping his determination to allow her much needed rest. He wasn’t some horny teenager, and yet he was well aware of the pressure of his hardening shaft pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Shaking his head, he wondered if he could even go a day without having to be inside of her.
“You just gonna stand there, or are you coming?”
“I wish,” Stryder said, his lips quirking when he saw his brother’s eyes doing an exaggerated roll a moment before the mug of coffee was plucked from his hand.
“Hey…” His protest broke off as he gave Anson a closer look. “You look like shit, bro. Did you stay here all night?”
“If it’s morning, then I suppose I did,” Anson said, taking a large gulp of the strong brew. “Once ya’ll left, I dug a little deeper.”
His statement instantly turned Stryder’s thoughts to the mission, the expression on his brother’s face telling him that the news wasn’t good. Steeling himself, he turned into the operations center, Anson following.
“How bad is it?” he asked, moving towards the bank of monitors, not the least bit surprised to find them all on. Taking a seat in one of the rolling chairs, he scanned each screen, trying to decipher the rows of data.
“It’s not good,” Anson said, taking another chair.
Something in his tone had Stryder looking from the monitors to him. Anson wore the same clothes he’d had on the day before and yet, while he did look exhausted, his expression was also one that Stryder recognized, and though it replicated his words, it also reflected a determination. “Tell me.”
Draining the last of the coffee, Anson set the mug aside and swiped his finger across one of the larger monitor’s display. Stryder watched as text and images scrolled past until one froze, filling the screen.
“With Zoya’s correction of the list last night, I had a place to start. The tattoo on this bastard’s wrist kept bugging me. I knew I’d seen it before but couldn’t place it. Not until I remembered reading about an incident a few years ago.” Anson tapped the image on the screen as both he and Stryder leaned forward. Neither spoke as they studied the band that had been inked around the man’s wrist.
“Each of these represents someone taken out for any one of a number of reasons,” Anson began, his fingertip tapping along the points that stood out in black ink, each tip ending in a blur of red.
Stryder was unconsciously counting and knew that the number was most likely off as he could only see the top portion of the wrist. Turning his head, he found Anson looking at him. “Fuck, you’re saying this guy has had over thirty-five people killed?”
“No, I’m saying this fucker has personally eliminated at least a hundred people. You don’t earn a bloody barb otherwise. Only the highest-ranking members are allowed to wear the tattoo. It’s their idea of a fucking badge of honor.” The image was one any Texan was familiar with, as barbed wire fences had been a way of containing stock for decades. Except in this case, each barb dripped with scarlet ink.
“Africa,” Stryder said, as memories of articles he’d read came to mind.
“Right. I remembered reading about the piracy based out of Somalia. This group was responsible for a great number of ships being attacked as well as competitors being eliminated. Their reputation is one of ruthlessness. If they even think you are crossing them, they’ll gut you and not even bother asking questions later.”
“I thought the incidents are almost nonexistent now,” Stryder said.
“Right again. Once captains and crews on ships armed themselves and the world managed to pull together, the threat has declined,” Anson agreed. “However, piracy still exists. A lot of the activity has moved to West Africa because there is still a controversy about allowing arms on board. Countries don’t want ships in their waters full of crews with itchy trigger fingers. There’s still a case being heard about the fishermen who were murdered because someone thought they were pirates. Until that issue is settled, and the world reacts as they did with Somalia, piracy and murder will likely continue.” Anson lifted his coffee mug, seeming surprised to find it empty. Sighing and setting it aside, he continued. “None of that matters in relation to our mission. In its heyday, millions of dollars were paid out, mostly to this group. It took all night, but I spoke to several contacts and it is agreed that this guy is at the top of that pile of shit.”
“Africa,” Stryder said again, what he knew about the continent running through his head. “So we go to Somalia?”
“No,” Anson said, shaking his head. With a flick of his finger, he removed the enlarged image of the man’s wrist, replacing it with a photo. “Does this guy look like he’d blend in with the natives?” He didn’t wait for an answer as it was quite obvious from the man’s photo that he was of Latin heritage. “He might be responsible for murder, but that doesn’t mean he wants to walk among the actual pirates.” Another moment of scrolling showed an aerial view of a huge house surrounded by high walls and lush forest. “He much prefers his compound on Madagascar.”
Anson paused and slid his eyes to Stryder. “And now we can begin to connect the dots. Eduardo Hildalgo actually got his start on another continent.” Swiping to the left, a map of South America appeared. Tapping the screen caused a country to take up the monitor’s display. Sitting back, Anson looked over at his brother again.
Looking back at the image, Stryder felt his gut tightening. “Fuck. This asshole got his feet wet in Argentina?”
“Correct, and I don’t think I have to tell you who his mentor was.”
“Juan Montez,” Stryder said, his blood beginning to boil.
“Seems that they are related—cousins in fact—so I can’t be too surprised that both assholes were at the auction. While they might not be smart enough to figure out that their host is planning on using us to eliminate them both, they are savvy enough to realize that living thousands of miles apart gives them not only a bigger share of the pie, but a sense of safety. Evidently Montez’s influence only drove his cousin to aim higher. He helps run the family business still but that didn’t stop him from hopping on the gravy train of piracy. Setting up on different continents allows each motherfucker to rule their own roost, so to speak.”
“I don’t give a shit if they live on different planets or share the same fucking bed,” Stryder said, the edge in his voice sharp. “The moment they made a bid on an innocent woman, their fate was sealed. In fact, Hildalgo being in Africa is good. Hadi does business there, and I’m sure he’ll be able to help gather information and get it to us before we land.” When Anson didn’t respond, Stryder wondered if his brother had dropped off from exhaustion. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you get a nap in before we get on the plane.”
Anson lifted his head. “I’ve already spoken to Hadi.”
“Great! Let’s go get the bastard.”
“We won’t be going to Africa,” Anson said.
“Why the fuck not? You said Hildalgo is in Madag
ascar, and he is the bastard who has Anya!”
“Had Anya.”
Stryder had originally thought he’d be sending his thanks to Hadi for his intervention in Anya’s rescue but seeing the look in his brother’s eyes, he felt his blood go cold. Before he could speak, he heard, “You boys are up early. What’s so urgent you couldn’t wait for the rest of us?”
Both men’s heads whipped around as Drake asked the question, Maddox right behind him. Stryder felt his stomach clench at the sight of Adira and Zoya walking in behind the men. Rising from his chair, he stepped around his father and brother, going straight to Zoya. Pulling her into his arms, he said, “Hey, it’s early yet. We didn’t get to sleep till late, and I’m sure you’re…”
“Anson, what did you mean?” Zoya asked, ignoring Stryder. When he tightened his hold, she pressed her palms against his chest and pushed out of his embrace. “I heard you say ‘had Anya.’ What does that mean?”
“Zoya…”
She ignored him again, walking towards the monitors and pointing to one. “Why is Anya’s picture gone?”
Looking at the screen he’d not given much consideration, as it reflected the same images he’d seen the evening before, Stryder saw that Zoya was correct. Where last night Anya’s photo had been, there was now nothing but a blank space. Not seeing the woman’s face next to Zoya’s on the bottom half of the screen, he suddenly felt an overwhelming need to keep his brother silent.
“Why don’t we all get some breakfast?” Stryder almost cringed, but shit, he was positive that his gut wasn’t reacting to the thought of putting food in his mouth but to the absolute certainty that whatever Anson said was going to rip Zoya apart. He reached for her again only to have her step away.
“Zoya—”
“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me… just… just don’t.”
His eyes found Anson’s. It took Stryder a moment to realize that the expression he saw wasn’t the least bit familiar… it was one of defeat. Looking at his father, he saw the older man knew whatever his sons had been discussing wasn’t good news.