Storm Conquered

by Magda Alexander

  I cut him off, not wanting to hear what he has to say. I’m hurting enough as it is. “Leave us alone, Gabe. We’ve made our peace with each other.”

  “Fine.” After we climb into the car, he asks, “Where to?”

  “My flat if you don’t mind.”

  “Edward will want to thank you for giving him back his son.”

  I smile, recalling the look on Edward’s face when he first spotted Richard. “He would have done the same for me if the tables had been turned.”

  He squeezes my shoulder, a pleased look on his face. “You’ve hidden depths, little sister. I’m proud of you.”

  All these years, he probably thought I was a lost cause. And I’d been. It only took my father’s death, the Countess’s revelations, and a lost child for me to realize what an ass I’ve been. Uncomfortable with his praise, I duck my head. “Thank you.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “While I’m in England, you mean?”

  “And later on.”

  “Spend a few days decompressing before heading back to Brazil to pick up the pieces.” I’ll need to touch base with Kurt to make sure everything’s still on track with the wind turbine installation. Not ‘til tomorrow, though. Tonight, I just want some sleep. I drop back my head against the leather seat. “Who did this, Gabe?”

  “I don’t know. But the British government is already pressing Brazil to find out. For now I’ll appoint MacLintock as head of security in Brazil to make sure nothing else happens. If he takes the job.”

  “He will.” Don’t know how I know that other than the feeling in my gut. “Big Mac will do a great job.”

  As soon as I arrive in my apartment, I check out the space. One thing Brazil taught me is not to take anything for granted. After I make sure I’m alone, I shower and lie down for a nap. Two hours later I wake up. Of course, there’s nothing to eat in the place, so I order take away. Half an hour later, the doorbell rings. Expecting it to be my order of Pad Thai, I swing open the door. And my breath cuts short.

  Jake stands in the hallway, freshly shaved, in black slacks, a shirt and jacket, his right arm in a dark sling.

  “Wasn’t expecting you.” I barely get the words out, choked with emotion as I am. I didn’t expect to see him again so soon.

  “Got a call from Samuel. He said you declined a guard for the night.”

  The joy that blossomed when I saw him outside my door dies a quick death. His sense of duty drove him here, nothing more. “Nobody knows I’m here, except for the family.”

  “By tomorrow the whole world will know.”

  “I’ll have one in place by then.”

  “I’d sleep better if someone was guarding you.”

  Meaning him. He would spend the night. Here. With me. Can’t say I’m disappointed. A few more hours by his side before he says a final goodbye. It will hurt in the end, but for now? I’m beyond happy to see him again. I swing open the door. “Please. Come in.”

  He strides in with that self-assured gait of his. “Did you check out the place?”

  “Yes. Nobody here but you and me.”

  “Any bugs?”

  “Listening devices, you mean? Why would anyone—”

  “Never mind.” He spends the next fifteen minutes exploring the place. Only when he’s satisfied, does he turn back to me. “You’re clean.”

  I drop on the living room couch, pat the space next to me. “Come. Sit.”

  He does, half the length of the sofa away. Not hard to figure out why he’s keeping his distance. Now that we’re back in England, he’s slipped back into his bodyguard role.

  The thought saddens me more than I can say. I want my lover back, the one that makes me burn. But seemingly, that’s not to be.

  “You recommended Mac as chief of security for Brazil?” he asks.

  “Yes. The Storm Industries project would be perfect for him. But how did you know?”

  “Storm called me to get my take on it.”

  “Do you think Mac will accept the position?”

  “I think so. He’s getting too long in the tooth for the game and has been looking to settle down somewhere, get himself a wife and some kids.”

  “What will happen to Terrence?” I may not think he’s suited for his current job, but he at least tried.

  “He can go back to what he did before. Or find something else. Unless I miss my guess, he’ll be happy to be relieved of his duties. He was in over his head.”

  Silence descends between us. He’s so close, and yet so far. I wrap my arms around my waist, trying to keep the hurt inside. “I can’t stop thinking about the kidnappers. Do you think someone at the compound was in cahoots with them?”

  “Maybe. Whoever it was, money was exchanged. Storm and Samuel will track down any unusual deposits in any employees’ bank accounts. If anything odd shows up, they’ll know it. And that person will be taken into custody and questioned.”

  I shiver. “I hope not. I really do.” I draw a lazy pattern on the fabric of the space between us. Wanting to reach out to him, Wanting to kiss him. Wanting so much.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I miss you.” The words spill out before I can call them back.

  “I’m not one of your boy toys, Brianna.” The tone of his voice gives me hope. It’s the same that bled out of him that first night we fucked, when I practically forced him to make love to me.

  I slide close to him and play with the chest hairs peeking out from his shirt. “I never thought you were. For one, you’re too smart.” My hand wanders down the row of buttons to his shirt. One by one I loosen them. “Second, you don’t like to have any fun.” My palm hovers over the prize beneath the placket of his slacks. “And third.” I stroke his length. He’s eager and ready for me. “You find it hard to take directions from a woman.”

  The amber lights in his eyes spark with emotion as I continue torturing him. He’s fighting me, fighting himself, but I’m not easing up on him. If this is to be our last night together, I want it to be a memorable one.

  He circles the nape of my neck and pulls me toward him, whispers, “Witch,” an instant before his ravenous mouth descends on mine for a soul-stealing kiss. I curl my arms around him and cede him everything he demands. I have no pride when it comes to Jake. Whatever he wants, I’m his.

  Stopping the kiss, he pries my hand from his cock, picks me up and hauls me into the bedroom. In no time at all he strips my garment, but then I’m only wearing a robe. It’s not until he stands just as naked as me, his cock proud and eager, a pair of handcuffs in his hand that I understand.

  “You planned this.”

  He shakes his head. “I always carry them with me. You know that, bright eyes.”

  After he handcuffs me to the brass railing of my bed, he opens a drawer on my night table. “Where do you keep them?”

  What is he looking for? Hopefully, it’s not condoms. The ones I have won’t fit him. “Where do I keep what?”

  “Your toys.”

  “I thought you didn’t like them.”

  “I don’t. Not when you’re using them to pleasure you. But when I’m doing it? It’s a different story.” I nod toward the closet where I keep my stash of pleasure devices. He hunts around the box until he finds what he’s looking for—a pink furry leather tickler.

  I grow breathless at the thought of him spanking me with the thing. I didn’t like it when he pummeled my arse in Brazil. He’d meant to punish me that day. But now? I can’t wait to see what he’ll do. “Are you going to spank me, Jake?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The front door buzzer rings.

  His brows draw together. “Expecting someone?”

  Bollocks. I forgot. “Yes. Dinner. I ordered take away.”

  He retrieves his wallet from his slacks and walks out of the room.

  I’m starving, but the food will just have to wait until we’re done. I’d rather eat him than Pad Thai. “You might want to throw a towel over the dangly bits.
”

  Another ding dong of the bell. “Coming. Fuck’s sake.”

  I giggle at the image of Jake grabbing whatever’s at hand to hide his ‘junk’.

  The sound of the front door opening and his gruff “How much?” reaches me. But then a shot rings out.

  “Jake!” I scream. I try desperately to free myself from the handcuffs, but they’re the real thing, not the toy ones I use. “Jake!”

  A heavy tread approaches. Not Jake’s. A man stands at the entrance to my bedroom. The last man I expected to see.

  “Kurt.”

  “Hello, liebchen.”

  “What are you doing here? You should be in Brazil handling things.”

  “I was handling them, handling you.” He spits out. “Right up to the time your keeper showed up. He ruined everything.”

  Suddenly everything becomes clear. Kurt’s million questions about the project, about Jake. He never asked them because he was concerned, but because he wanted to make sure everything was going according to plan. “Where’s Jake? What did you do to him, you bastard.”

  “Shot him. What else was I to do? I can’t have him interfering with my plans.”

  “You didn’t ... kill him?” I can barely say the word. Please God don’t let him be dead.

  “Maybe.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Who cares?”

  “Let me go. I can save him.”

  “No, liebchen.” He brushes the gun he’s holding across my cheek in a sick sort of caress. “You and I need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Money.”

  I have to do something, say something to get him to leave. “Someone probably heard the shot. And they’ll call the police. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Doubt it. The flat next door belongs to your brother and he’s in South America. And your other brother dropped you off and left. So there’s no one to save you. Enough talking. I need the combination to your safe. The one where you keep your jewels.”

  “You think I’d give that to you?”

  “Yes, I do. You see. If you don’t, I really will kill him.” He waves the gun back toward where Jake must be, hurt, dying.

  Oh, God. “He’s not dead?”

  “Not yet. But he will be if you don’t cooperate.” The ice in his eyes tells me he’s dead serious.

  “I want to see him.”

  “You must think me a fool.”

  “I won’t give you the combination until I see he’s alive.”

  “Very well, if you must.” He breathes out an exasperated breath, like he doesn’t understand why I care. “Where is the key to the handcuffs?”

  “Look in his jeans pocket.”

  He does and frees me.

  “No funny business now.”

  “I won’t.” At least not until I discover Jake’s condition.

  He’s lying by the front door, in a pool of blood, bleeding from his upper chest.

  “Let me call emergency transport.”

  “No.”

  “If I don’t do something, he’ll bleed to death.”

  “Do what you have to, but hurry.” The look in his eyes tell me his patience’s running thin.

  I rush to the kitchen and wad up a kitchen cloth, run back and press it against the wound on Jake’s chest. The towel he’d wrapped around his groin, I use to hold the kitchen cloth to the wound. He’s still bleeding, but at least the bandage will slow down the flow.

  “The combination?” Kurt reminds me.

  “If I tell you, you’ll kill us both.”

  “I won’t kill you. Beauty like yours should not be snuffed out like a candle. But I will handcuff you to the bed.”

  If he does, Jake will die. “I’ll give it to you. But don’t handcuff me, please. He’ll die unless he gets help.”

  “Or he’ll die now.” He points a gun to Jake’s head. “You have exactly five seconds to give me the combination. Ein, zwei, drei—”

  My shoulders slump. “I have to do it. There’s a trick to the combination. If you don’t do it the right way, the safe won’t open.”

  He waves the gun at me. “Lead on.”

  I need to know his role in everything that’s happened. In case I survive. As I walk toward my study where I keep the safe, I ask, “Why are you doing this, Kurt?”

  “Money. What else? I have what you might call a gambling problem. I owe $2 million to an Italian syndicate. They were going to make fish food out of me in a Venice canal. After you hired me, they came to me, explained what I needed to do to make the debt go away.”

  “What did they ask of you?”

  “They asked me to sabotage the project.”

  “But why would they want that?”

  “A Brazilian cartel controls the area. They weren’t too pleased with the wind power project. It would provide electricity to a population deeply under their thumb. Electricity would allow industry to be built, children to be educated. They couldn’t have that. So they paid off my debt to the Italian syndicate in exchange for my cooperation. I was to be their eyes and ears. Make sure you didn’t interfere with their sabotage efforts.”

  “But Richard, how did he figure into their plans?”

  By this time we’ve arrived at my study. He waves the gun at the safe. “Enough talking. Get on with it.”

  I push the numbers on the safe, click down on the handle. The door slides open. Inside a tray of jewels shimmers, some dating back to medieval times. Most have been handed down to me through numerous generations of Storms. Next to it lies a Glock, given to me by Jake for protection. I’ve never used it. Guns are not my weapon of choice. I lean to the right to obscure his view of the weapon and grab the tray of jewels with my left hand. With the right I reach for the gun.

  A groan from the living room tells me that Jake’s still alive.

  “Hurry up.”

  “Here.” I rise and hand the tray to him.

  His gaze is glued to the shiny jewelry.

  I raise the Glock and aim it squarely at his chest.

  For a split second, his eyes widen. I pull on the trigger. The gun clicks but nothing happens.

  For a couple of beats we stare at each other. Relief rolls over his face, and he wheezes out a belly laugh. “Should have loaded it first, liebchen.”

  He’s still laughing when a shot rings out, and a bloom of red blooms across his chest. His brows scrunch and he stares at my useless weapon. But it’s not the one fired. The gun that killed him is the one Jake holds in his hand.

  Chapter 22

  ______________

  Jake

  I WAKE UP GROGGY in a hospital bed. Bits and pieces of memories flit through my mind. Brianna, calling emergency transport, the ride through the streets of London, sirens blaring. A blue-coated doctor with a scalpel in his hand just before the lights went out.

  “Welcome back to the world. How are you feeling?” Elizabeth Storm, Gabriel’s wife, stands by the side of my bed. Her green eyes shine with concern.

  “Thirsty.” And sore as hell.

  “Here.” She hands me a glass with a bendy straw. “Only a sip, mind you. You’re still sedated.”

  “Thanks.” Fuck. I’m weak as a kitten. I barely have the energy to suck once on the straw before my strength gives out. When my head flops back on the pillow, she returns the cup to the hospital tray, but keeps it within my hand’s reach. Doubt I’ll have the power to grab it, but it’s good to know it’s close.

  “You lost a lot of blood before they got you to the hospital. We thought we were going to lose you. Fifteen more minutes and you would have been gone.”

  But I’m not. The pain nailing my body reminds me of that much. But what if I’d died? Would Brianna have cried over me? Maybe. Underneath that superficial, wild child exterior, her heart beats true, at least where her family’s concerned. But then I’m not family, only her bodyguard. As such, I must ask about her. “Brianna?” I croak out. I need to see her to make sure she’s all right.

  “She’s ... fine. She wasn’t h
urt. Kurt Eichner on the other hand?”

  She doesn’t have to tell me he’s dead. I aimed for his black heart. That much I remember clearly.

  “Gabriel’s handling the police. Between the miraculous recovery of a son Edward never knew he had and the assault on Brianna, it’s a circus out there.” She nods toward the exit.

  “The media must be having a field day.”

  “It’s like Easter, Christmas and Guy Fawkes night all rolled into one.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “A couple of days.”

  “So it’s—” Fuck if I know what day of the week it is. Not that it matters. I’m not going anywhere.

  “Saturday.”

  “When did you fly into London?” She wasn’t here when we arrived in Heathrow.

  “Yesterday. Gabriel sent the plane back for me.”

  That explains her presence.

  Storm blasts into the room, face filled with anger and frustration. “Bloody vultures.”

  “What happened?” Elizabeth hurries to his side, rests her hand on his arm. Even in my half conscious state, I can tell the gesture is filled with concern.

  “They want to know—” his gaze cuts to me. “Never mind.” After a quick peck on Elizabeth’s lips, he scrutinizes me. His brow wrinkles as if he doesn’t like what he sees. “How are you feeling?”

  “Great.” I try to sound upbeat but my voice wimps out at the end.

  “Right.” He turns his laugh into a cough. Yeah, I wouldn’t believe me either.

  Elizabeth squeezes Storm’s arm. “I’ll just go get a cup of coffee and let you guys ... talk.”

  He grabs her, kisses her hard. She curls her arms around his neck, steps into him and they go at it like two horny teenagers. Christ! I could light a fire from the heat they’re shooting off.

  The glass that surrounds the hospital room enables anyone to see what they’re doing. Since I doubt they want their passionate clinch caught on camera by a roaming papparazzi, I cough to remind them they’re not alone.

  A moment later, they slowly separate, as if they can’t bear to be apart from each other.

  “I’ll ... em ... go get that cup of coffee.” Elizabeth says, still dazed from that kiss.

  Gabriel flicks her cheek. He never could keep his hands off her. “Don’t go far. They’ll be after you next.”