“When are you going to tell me what you’re doing? Why don’t I have your private number? All that crap earlier about me being yours?” Ian huffed. “In bed, yeah. I get that we’re fucking. But I think I’m entitled to a little information beyond what position you want me in.”
Owen raised a brow, pleased when Ian frowned. He loved when Ian reacted the way he’d predicted. It gave Owen hope he might not be so off the mark when it came to understanding his new lover. “So then what are we, Ian? Fuck buddies? Lovers? Is this casual for you?”
“Back at ya, play-ah,” Ian taunted. “You’re the love ’em and leave ’em type. How many heiresses and actors have you on their speed dial? Millionaire stud on call, will travel?”
Owen couldn’t help laughing.
“You think that’s funny?” Ian glared.
“That couldn’t be further from the truth. Come on. If I randomly had sex with so many, don’t you think the tabloids would plaster my name up in lights? I’ve dated occasionally, and I like sex. But I’m careful about who I’m with. You do remember Linda Cavendish, my ex who tried to kill me? I’ve learned to be more circumspect since her.”
Ian seemed only slightly mollified. “So who was your last date?”
“Before you?”
“Duh.”
Owen bit his lower lip. “Before you…hmm. Probably Janson.”
Ian blinked. “The supermodel?”
“Yeah.” A woman so beautiful she could rarely look away from her own reflection. Owen had been horny, tired, and wanting to connect. She’d been at the same party and surprisingly feeling the same. He actually liked her, but they’d both known after sleeping together that they had nothing but the sex in common. “She’s a nice girl.”
“Janson?” Ian’s voice rose in pitch. “She’s fucking gorgeous. You slept with her? She was on Vogue last month.” Ian gaped at him, then after a moment added, “Can you get me her autograph?”
“If you want.” Irritated because Ian didn’t seem jealous, just gaga over Janson, Owen tried to push past him.
Ian pushed back. “Hold it. When was this date with Janson, anyway?”
“Ian, I have to pack.”
“Answer the question.”
Owen fumed. “Six months ago. Happy?”
“You haven’t had sex in six months? Or do you consider dating a relationship and fucking something else?”
He wanted to pack, fly out, and do his thing fast. The sooner he put the nightmare of DeSanta behind him, the sooner he could deal with Kerr and get on with the rest of his life—that hopefully included Ian, even as annoying as he was. “Do we have to talk about this right now?”
“If you want a killer blowjob in the next five minutes, yes.”
And like that, Owen grew instantly hard. “You do that on purpose.”
Ian smirked. “Nice to know you want me, at least.”
“How can there be any doubt?”
“But there’s more to wanting than sex.” As he said it, Ian got the funniest look on his face.
“Um, yeah. You look confused. I am too. Explain just what you mean. I thought all this was casual to you.” Owen was delighted. “You want more? To be my boyfriend?”
“Maybe.”
“So defensive. No, baby. That’s okay.”
Ian frowned. “Don’t call me baby.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to be like every other Janson you’ve dated. Call me by name.”
“Ah.” Owen dropped his clothes and tugged Ian closer by the belt loop of his jeans. “Ian. My little thief.” He kissed Ian softly. “My sexy cocksucker.” He placed his hand over Ian’s and guided him to the bulge between his legs. “See what you do to me? All I have to think about is your mouth, or see something blue and think of your eyes, and I’m hard. I want to fill that tight ass again, thief. Or even better, those full lips.”
Ian groaned. “Man, you’re good at the love talk.”
Owen chuckled.
“So you’re not seeing anyone now?”
“Just you.”
“And you’re not involved with Dalton, that dick?”
Owen sighed. “No. I told you that. He and I are just friends.”
“Who share secrets you won’t tell me.” Ian pouted and, when Owen remained closemouthed, grumbled, “Fine, go do your thing. But while you’re away, what am I supposed to do?”
“Stay here with everyone and watch them for me.” Owen kissed Ian’s cheek and trailed his way to Ian’s ear. “Help Tim protect the people I care for.” He licked Ian’s lobe and shoved his tongue into Ian’s ear.
When his lover groaned, Owen ground against the hand still cupping his cock. “Oh yeah. That’s it, thief. Get me nice and hard. But while you’re doing that, I want you to come for me.” Owen unbuttoned and unzipped him. Then he reached inside Ian’s clothes and stroked his thickening shaft. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
“And getting bigger,” Ian rasped. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” he warned.
“Good.”
“No, not yet.” Ian arched his throat when Owen kissed his way to his pulse.
He nipped Ian, marking him, and let go of the man’s cock to play with his nipples. The T-shirt was no barrier, and before Ian could think to protest, Owen whipped it off him. He lowered to suck the man’s nipples, loving the moans and pleas for release.
“So what are we, Ian? Will my boyfriend be waiting for me when I get back?” Owen whispered against his chest. He teethed Ian’s flesh.
“Jesus. Do that again.”
Owen did, and Ian melted against him. “How do you do that?” Ian breathed.
“Well? Can I spend some time with my boyfriend when I return? Sex, movies, maybe even talking, like we’ve been the past month? It’s not all about the sex, is it, thief?” He’d loved the time they spent together, testing one another, seeing how the other’s mind worked. Owen couldn’t get enough of Ian’s inquisitiveness. While it bothered Jack and the others, Owen liked having someone so intelligent and quick-witted to talk to and bounce ideas off. Plus, he truly found Ian funny.
He pinched Ian’s nipple and ground against his cock again, wanting to feel his lover explode.
“Yes, yes,” Ian hissed. “I’ll be your damn boyfriend if you kiss me again.”
“You’re easy.” Owen left Ian’s chest and hugged him tight, kissing him with all the desire and feeling inside him.
“That’s what…I’ve been…telling you.” Ian kissed him back with such fierceness Owen lost his mind.
His back was against the closet wall by the door and his pants around his thighs, Ian on his knees, when he next opened his eyes. “Ian?”
“Your thief. I’m going to steal some cum…Sir.”
Owen groaned and watched as Ian’s lips parted and enveloped the head of his cock. Ian kept those baby blue eyes on Owen’s the entire time he sucked and teased Owen toward climax.
“Fuck, Ian.” He moaned. “God, your mouth. Promise you’ll stay with Tim and the others while I’m gone. You have to be careful. Promise…”
Ian made a noise and sucked harder.
Owen clasped the back of his head, trying not to thrust deeper, but he couldn’t stop himself from jerking when Ian cupped his balls. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he blurted, unable to stop himself. “Shit. I’m coming, Ian. A lot of cum down your throat. Oh fuck.”
Ian drew him deeper, and then his tongue flickered against the underside of Owen’s cockhead while he rubbed Owen’s sac, and Owen lost it. He cried out and jetted into Ian’s mouth, clutching handfuls of silky black hair while he did so.
When he could breathe again, he blinked at Ian, who finished swallowing him down. Ian pulled back, and a drop of seed remained on his slick lips. Watching Ian lick it off sealed the man’s fate. No way in hell was Owen going to let him go. Beyond the sex, Owen saw the vulnerable glint Ian rarely allowed anyone to see. Ian didn’t want to be viewed as anything but a con man with attitude, b
ut Owen wanted that Ian as much as he wanted the sexy thief. He wanted all of him.
“So it’s a deal, then,” Owen growled, in lust and climbing fast toward love with the younger man.
“Deal?” Ian rose to his feet, and Owen noted the impressive erection straining between his parted jeans.
Owen took him in his hands, captivated by the ruddy cock pearling at the tip. “You’re mine now. And I’m yours.”
Ian frowned. “Mine for now, you mean.”
Scared? An Ian who didn’t care wouldn’t need to put labels on them. “Exactly.” Owen grinned. For now, later, and tomorrow. He slowly knelt, keeping his gaze on Ian’s. Bright blue eyes widened at the sight.
Ian swallowed loudly.
“That’s right, lover. My turn.” Owen licked his lips, glad when Ian continued to look dumbfounded. “What? I can’t suck off my boyfriend? I mean, I don’t do this for just anyone. But since we’re a couple, this is okay. We don’t have to use condoms, since we’re together, and we’re exclusive.”
“No condoms.” Ian cleared his throat. “A little late to take that back, since you just came down my throat.”
“True.” Owen smiled. “And then last night and yesterday, when I left a mess inside that pretty ass. And those slick lips. Yum.” He stroked Ian’s cock, and Ian rocked into him as if unable to help himself. His slit was wet, the man’s balls rock hard.
“Quit teasing and suck me,” Ian groaned. He flushed, no doubt realizing how needy he sounded. “Uh, please.”
Owen chuckled and slid his hand around Ian’s ass. He squeezed, and Ian let out a breathy moan. Then he ran his fingers all over Ian’s groin. Such a beautiful cock. And so tasty… Owen leaned forward to lick the spot of cum from Ian’s slit and closed his mouth when Ian pressed forward, giving his lover a tight fit to fuck.
“Christ, Owen. I’m about to blow. Please, take me inside. I need it.”
“You need me,” Owen corrected him, needing to hear him say it.
“I do, you controlling bastard.” Ian moaned and stroked Owen’s hair. “I need you so bad.”
Owen took Ian to the back of his throat in one fell swoop. Ian cried out and pumped twice more before coming. That Ian couldn’t hold out made Owen feel like a king, one who’d mastered his lover’s pleasure, if not his heart. Not yet. After swallowing all Ian had to give, he pulled back and stared up at the most handsome man he’d ever laid eyes on. The ecstatic expression on Ian’s face drew him further along his obsessive need to capture Ian’s heart.
Then Ian smiled down at him before tugging Owen to his feet. A shy, satisfied expression that captured the essence of the man buried inside the cautious little forger. The kiss they shared was soft, sweet, and gratifying. When Owen pulled back to study his face, Ian’s smile left him, and they stared into each other’s eyes, not speaking.
Owen might not have his heart yet. But damn if he wasn’t getting closer.
Chapter Seven
The flight to Venezuela went off without a hitch. They landed in Caracas and met Caleb’s driver without attracting undue attention. The small hotel they entered catered to people who wanted to keep a low profile. Located between a large barrio on the western edge of the city and the modern district of El Rosal, the little building gave enough security that they didn’t have to fear for their lives just entering the place. At least, not yet.
In the distance, Mount Avila separated the city from the Caribbean Sea. Despite the beauty and grandeur of the distant mountain, they’d avoided a few No Go Areas, where most foreigners wound up dead. Violence was high in the city, and Owen knew it would get even more brutal before he left. DeSanta had to die.
Their driver had spoken like a native for all that he looked like a Swede. In accented English the unnamed man had said, “He’s here, hasn’t moved in two days,” before leaving Caleb and Owen with a large duffel bag when he dropped them at their hotel.
Their small room had cracked walls, a stained wooden floor, a single bed, and a small water closet big enough for a toilet. A communal shower and sink were down the hall. Of the ten rooms in the dingy, run-down place, only this one and two others had occupants, or so their driver had informed them on the ride over. Besides telling them that DeSanta was there, present, in the city.
“Chatty friends you have,” Owen remarked.
Caleb shrugged. “If I was stationed here, I’d be quiet too. Every two seconds, there’s someone lying shot or dead three streets over. But this was as close as I wanted us to be. DeSanta’s men patrol the eastern part of the city.”
“Where you’re going to connect with him. Not safe, Caleb.”
“Hey, at least I don’t have to be in the same building anymore. That was tough. Remember Florence?”
“Oh, right. That was bitch.”
Caleb grinned, and Owen could see the adrenaline junkie gearing up to go.
“I know I told you I could be a mile out, and I didn’t think I’d need to be this close. But this is kind of a rush job. I haven’t had the time to lock onto him before now. I’ll be on his block. I figured they’ll see me, but I’ll be in disguise, working on the neighbor’s house. My papers check out. An electrician is due to visit the blue house a block down tomorrow morning. No biggie.”
“Dying the hair?”
“Black.”
“Not platinum blond? You’d look even more interesting as a redhead.” Owen grinned at the look Caleb gave him. “Hey, I can make jokes, or I can dwell on how much I don’t want to do this.” His smile faded. “DeSanta needs to die. The things he’s done…” Owen’s gift—or curse—was that he connected with his targets long enough to see through them, to know, in that split second before everything ended, how they’d lived.
When he’d ended Linda Cavendish’s life, he’d seen her greed, how many people she’d had a hand in hurting with her illegal cage fights and senseless rumor mongering. In addition to murder, she’d broken careers and ended more than her share of marriages. Led by greed, she’d also died by it. But DeSanta took bad to a whole new level.
Owen had dealt with scumbags and murderers, but defiling innocents definitely took the cake. He knew Kerr was a deviant bastard, but this man, DeSanta, was the epitome of evil. He feared what he’d see before DeSanta succumbed, but even more, Owen worried he’d be forever tainted by the darkness he’d be forced to confront. As if the evil would bleed through to him and stain him forever. Sometimes after an op, it took him months to recover deep inside. And he feared losing himself more than anything.
Caleb clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry. Yeah, it’s gonna suck. But I’ll be here for you as fast as I can. Keep a gun close, and stay conscious for maybe half an hour. You don’t have to physically touch him, so you should be good to go.” He paused. “I still think we could call in—”
“No.”
“Shit. Fine. Then you just need to hang on long enough for me to get back.”
Caleb would have to stay by DeSanta until Owen made the connection. The minute Owen did, Caleb would beat feet back to Owen.
Once Owen started destroying DeSanta, he’d be vulnerable, unable to process outside of the kill. And after the deed, he’d be unfocused, confused. Unfortunately, there would be a short lag time between Caleb fixating on the mark and arriving back here at the hotel. But it couldn’t be helped. Owen refused any other offer of assistance. The fewer people who knew what he could do, the better. Frankly, he didn’t trust anyone with his most closely kept secret except Caleb, the admiral, and Heather. And he’d be damned if he’d involve his sister in danger.
“Besides,” Caleb continued. “Just think of all the kids you’re saving by doing this.”
“Yeah.” Still, the mess left a bad taste in his mouth. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he had a hint of foresight in his skill set. Because he had a bad feeling about the mission, a sense unlike what he’d experienced on similar ops, when he’d been raring to take down the bad guys. And he couldn’t have said why.
* *
* *
“He took the bait, sir.”
Carl gripped the phone tighter. When he’d heard about plans to eliminate DeSanta, he’d planted a seed with his contact in DC. It seemed they’d made good on the idea about asking Owen for help. And now Owen would be even more vulnerable in a foreign country without his usual backup. Perfect.
Talk about a good day. He nodded at his supplier, who dragged another stoned woman from the cattle car in the warehouse. Carl inspected his merchandise, nodded, and said into the cell phone, “That’s good, Fielder. Keep me apprised of developments as they come in.”
“Yes, sir. Also, Koffman spoke with Neever. Though they haven’t spotted anyone else out there, he swears they have company in Bend.”
Carl gave Owen credit. The man was no slouch. Knowing he had to leave his precious estate and staff behind—and aware Carl would know he’d gone—Owen had left more than his spare security to watch the homestead. Probably Jack Keiser and his little bastards patrolling the area.
Yet another reason Carl preferred not to engage Owen on his own turf. Recollections of his father and brother dying, without any trace of Owen’s guilt, unnerved him. If Owen indeed knew people who could kill with a thought, what prevented him from taking Carl out the same way? That Carl had lived this long told him Owen might be psychic, but he couldn’t kill on command. Had he been able, the bastard would no doubt have killed him long ago.
No. Owen had contacts to do his dirty work for him. Men like that Caleb Dalton. Unfortunately, Carl had yet to find his own psychic to help him out. Although… “Fielder?”
“Sir?”
“Any word on that other matter I had you looking into?” A search into a psychic for hire, one who could use his or her ability to kill. Tit for tat, Owen.
“Maybe. I had a phone call from someone claiming he knows about the program that disbanded. Someone with skills you might need, except…”
“Yes?”
“He seemed a little…off, sir. I’m not sure how much of a help he’d be.”
“No matter. If he can do what needs to be done, we’ll bring him on board. Have Harry set up the meeting. Oh wait, he’s no longer with us, is he?” Harry had been a bit too wheedling about money, and Carl had been in a foul mood of late. So just yesterday, Harry had enjoyed his last minutes gagged and strapped to Carl’s special table, fucked to within an inch of his life. Poor Harry hadn’t enjoyed the buggery, but Carl thought the slash across his throat had given him the respite he’d begged for, there at the end. Carl, on the other hand, had thoroughly enjoyed his time with Harry. Though a disappointment in some ways, Harry had proven to be a stellar fuck.
Marie Harte - [PowerUp! 08] Page 8