Don't Look

by Jessa Kane

  Mick’s growl vibrates through my whole body. My arms are wrenched behind me, wrists pinned at the small of my back. “Oh, he’s going to look, all right.” The thick head of his flesh breaches me, before the rest of him slams deep, driving me up the bed, crackles going off in my ears, my belly. “He’s going to watch his little girl get ruined by a big cock. He’s going to watch it from behind, too, so he can watch me slide in and out, stretching your tight pussy with every pump.” His forearm jerks me up onto my knees. “So get your little ass up. Show daddy how you make the strange man come.”

  My thighs are already starting to tremble, but the need for release comes from deep deep inside me after that. Because when Mick begins to thrust, he finds that sensitive spot and hits it over and over. There’s no way to escape the awful, wonderful, scary, intense, wild pressure that begins to build. He’s so rough, giving me no way to move, that arm like a band of steel around my hips, keeping me stationary for his grunting drives.

  “Stop him,” I wail, my fingers clawing at the sheets. “It’s too big. It hurts.”

  Mick shouts a curse and picks up the pace, the sound of our smacking flesh filling the room. “Paid extra to get you pregnant, brat. Hold still and let it happen.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.” His mouth finds my neck, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh. “Mine now. All mine. He’s seen it happen. Fucking mine. Always.”

  I’m talking to Mick now and that’s what sends me into my climax, blistering white lust taking me prisoner from all sides, dragging me down into those agonizing moments while waiting for the pleasure to break—and when it does, I catapult into the blissful nothing, my flesh clamping down around Mick’s flesh, my consciousness wavering, blinking in and out. He falls forward, pinning me to the bed, his hips ramming into me from above, using my body like a toy.

  When he roars loud enough to make my eardrums hurt, I wonder if maybe my father knows what we’re doing after all. Half of Los Angeles must hear Mick hit his peak and unleash endless streams of fluid inside me. It overflows and dribbles down my thighs, while his cock continues to stuff me full. In and out. Hard, rough, desperate. I’m sliding up and back on the mattress, taking it, sobbing, tears overflowing and running down my cheeks from the intensity of it all.

  “I love you,” I murmur when he finally collapses on my back, his low, shuddering intakes of breath filling my ears.

  “I love you, too, Hailey,” Mick answers, rolling off me and pulling me into his arms. “Fuck, baby. I love you so bad.”

  “Good,” I tease him, tickling his ribs. “Now go work.”

  I shouldn’t have picked up the phone.

  Unfortunately eavesdropping has become a favorite pastime of mine. I mean, can anyone blame me? I don’t even have a television in my room. Listening to my father’s meetings through the vent in my room is my only form of entertainment.

  By the time Mick manages to stop kissing me and get out of bed, he still hasn’t quite managed to hide his worry from me. He mentioned having to cut down red tape and I sense he’s not willing to share much more, since he doesn’t want me to be scared. So I’ll have to find out what’s bothering him on my own.

  Hearing Mick’s voice on the opposite side of the massive hotel room, I roll over in bed and gently pick up the receiver, covering the mouthpiece with my hand, listening to the conversation already underway between Mick and an older man with a nasal voice.

  “You have Stepanov’s daughter in custody, Agent Grady.”

  “Protective custody,” Mick corrects him in a sharp tone. “She’s been through hell at the hands of this madman.”

  “Yes, you made it clear in your brief last night that she’s a poor little princess who’s been suffering away in her Hollywood Hills mansion.”

  “Locking her in a fucking room. Terrorizing her. Did you miss that part? I’ll be happy to read it to you.”

  “Somehow I think your interpretation will be different than mine.” I can feel Mick’s frustration and anger in the silence that passes. “I approved the order of protection. Now what can she do for the case? If she’s not an asset, she’s no good to us.” Another tick of silence. “Although I’ve seen the picture of her being taken into protective custody. I imagine you’re finding her good for something. At the risk of your job.”

  “I don’t care if you’re my superior. One more comment like that about her and I will not only hand in my badge, I’ll put it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine. I’m doing my job while you sit in an air-conditioned office drinking Starbucks, so spare me the judgment. I get this shit done.”

  The man clears his throat. “I notice you didn’t deny a relationship with her.”

  “Yeah. And I won’t. She’s mine.” He lets that sink in and warmth spreads in my belly. “But my job is to bring in Stepanov and I’m going to do that regardless.”

  “How? Is she willing to testify?”

  I swallow hard, trying to imagine facing my father in the courtroom. No. I don’t think he would let me get that far alive. He’d find a way to reach me and make sure I never set foot on the stand.

  “She’s not going anywhere near him,” Mick says, his voice deadly. “Not in the building. Not in the same state, as soon as I can manage it. She’s out.”

  There’s some bluster on the other end. “Does she have evidence we can use?”

  “She’s done with this. Don’t make me say it again.” Mick curses, his stress obvious even though I can’t see him. “I’ve made contact. I’ll get the evidence.”

  “You can’t be serious, agent. Your cover is compromised.” The other man snorts. “You’re in his home last night for the first time…and the next morning, there’s a miraculous possibility of mudslides and his daughter goes missing? He’s going to see right through that coincidence and come for you.”

  Mick seems unperturbed by this. “Has he already returned to the residence?”

  “No. We’re holding the evacuation order for another two hours to make it believable. These things take a while to fix and I’m sure he’s done his due diligence. But as soon as he gets home, the clock starts on him discovering she’s gone and you’re screwed. And unless she can testify, you’ve failed.”

  Mick stays quiet, but I can hear his unspoken thoughts nonetheless. He’s willing to compromise himself in the name of my happiness. Safety. And as far as I can tell, he hasn’t told his boss that I’m responsible for replicating the artwork. I could be the ticket to bringing down my father, but he won’t use me. Won’t put me in that position. It could cost him his job.

  No. I can’t let it. Not because of me.

  I know enough from listening to my father through the grate that his greatest fear is one of his men turning informant. If they ever get caught doing something illegal, they could use evidence against him as a bargaining chip to avoid jail time. Maybe I can do that now. In my room back at the mansion, I have a book of all the counterfeit orders my father left outside my door. I have dates. Even some names my father left on the paperwork by accident. I have everything they’ll need to put him behind bars.

  There’s one problem, though. Mick will never let me go retrieve it. He’ll insist on doing it himself. And that could get him killed.

  Me, however? If I could sneak back in undetected before my father returns home from being evacuated, Mick’s job will be saved and he’ll have the evidence he needs to complete the case. My father will go to prison and we won’t have to live in fear of him. Dammit. Why didn’t I just bring the book with me?

  I’m so distracted by my own thoughts, I don’t realize the men have hung up until I hear Mick’s footsteps approaching the room. I hang up the phone just in time for him to kick open the door, a tray of room service in his hands. “Dinner is served, baby,” he says, a strained smile playing around his mouth. “I’m going to run downstairs to the gift shop and buy you some clothes. Just in case we have to move soon, so you’ll have enough to last. You stay here and eat until you pass out.”

&nbs
p; An ache starts in my chest. “Okay, Mick.”

  He sets down the tray and catches my chin. “You’re beautiful,” he says gruffly. “You know that?”

  When he walks out a moment later, I don’t waste any time throwing on my clothes and shoes, saying a prayer for forgiveness when I scoop a handful of bills out of Mick’s wallet, vowing to pay him back. I wait a full two minutes after Mick leaves the room to poke my head out of the hotel room. My guards are in the opposite end of the hallway, smoking out an open window and watching a sports game on one of their phones. I hear them complaining about Mick being a hard ass and wonder if he just reminded them to do their job better. They should have listened.

  Quietly as possible, I slide out of the room and vanish down the stairwell.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mick

  It’s the first time I’ve gone shopping for woman’s clothing—and I kind of love deciding what touches Hailey’s skin. This is an upscale hotel, so I have a lot of options, too. I buy her comfortable underwear, because I can’t imagine having a string up your ass feels good. But I can’t stop myself from buying her a few pairs of tight, little boy shorts made of lace. Pink, white, yellow. Just thinking of her buns in them is giving me a hard-on in the store, so I move on to clothes.

  No help there. Tank tops make me think of her tits, skirts make me think of her thighs. Having them wrapped around me while I ride her on the bathroom floor. By the time I get to the checkout counter, my cock is hard, off to one side behind the fly of my jeans. There’s no help for it. Soon as I get back upstairs, I’m going to take her again.

  Having the situation with her father out of my control, I’m twice as possessive. Protective. The need to claim and guard her is fierce. Now that she’s out of the house, I have to figure out my next move. One thing is for certain, Hailey isn’t going to be in harm’s way. Not in this lifetime.

  I grab a pack of Advil for Hailey at the checkout, feeling like a depraved motherfucker, but the stoic salesman’s expression never changes as he bags the items and takes my money. Money I really like spending on Hailey.

  If being with her costs me my job, I’m not worried. With my horse breeding operation gaining momentum and the cattle yielding income, the ranch is lucrative. And hell, I don’t relish the idea of being away from Hailey for months at a time while I work a case. Maybe it’s for the best if we cut our losses and go home, leave Los Angeles in our rearview. I know the Bureau won’t let me drop a case without giving them something, though. As soon as I get back upstairs and reassure myself Hailey is safe and sound, I’ll figure out my next play.

  The first thing I notice when I walk into the bedroom is Hailey isn’t there.

  Second? The food is untouched.

  “Hailey.” Panic grabs me by the throat. “Hailey!”

  No answer.

  I check everywhere—the bathroom, the balcony, under the fucking bed, for chrissakes—before retreating to the hallway, grabbing one of the agents by his collar, throwing him up against the wall. “She’s gone.”

  His shock is genuine. “What?”

  I’m so terrified, my words are barely intelligible. “Listen to me very carefully. Did anyone come in here?”

  “No.” He shifts a glance over at his partner, who is also white as a sheet and already shouting orders into his earpiece. “Stepanov has no idea she’s gone yet with the evac order still in place. We didn’t think there was a threat until he finds out she’s gone.”

  “It’s my job to determine that, you fucking dead man.” I rear back and give him a right cross, letting him slump to the ground. Just like that, a light goes out in the rational part of my brain. Hailey. Where the fuck is my girl? Did someone take her? Did she…leave? No. No, she wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t rip my heart out like this. Wait. I didn’t look for a note. Maybe she went out for some reason and left me an explanation.

  Moving at a fast clip, I reenter the room, beelining for the bedroom.

  And that’s when I notice the phone is askew in the cradle.

  My mind struggles to fight through the panic and acknowledge why that’s bad. My conversation with my superior. Was she listening? What was said?

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and start to pace, battling the urge to vomit. My superior wants to use her as a witness. Did she worry I’d allow that to happen? No, she would have trusted me. Trusted every word I said during the conversation she overheard. She would have known I mean to keep her safe, so…

  Evidence.

  Hailey knows I need something on her father. Or I could lose the case.

  She also knows she has two hours before her father gets home.

  She’s gone back to the house. And what she doesn’t know is the evacuation is optional—and her father would have realized that by now, too. He could return home at any time.

  “No.”

  With unimaginable images chilling my blood, I spin on a heel and sprint out of the room. Please God let me get there in time. Life just became worth living because of her. If I lose her now, I’ll lose myself.

  Hailey

  There is no one home when the cab lets me out at the end of my father’s driveway. His car isn’t there and twilight has crept in, but no lights are on in the house. Okay. I can do this. I only need three minutes to get into the house and retrieve the book from upstairs. Mick is going to be livid when I get back to the hotel, but he’ll be fine. I’ll calm him down. And we’ll have the evidence he needs to get us free of this case. This world.

  Maybe, just maybe, I want to save the day, too. Is that so unrealistic? I’ve been a victim for so long and I’m tired of it. I’ve found this man I want to live with, be happy with. I’m not letting anything stop me from making it happen.

  I ask the cab driver to wait and speed walk down the driveway, mentally plotting my movements through the house. But I slow to a walk at the front door, realizing my plan has already hit a snag. I don’t have house keys. Unbelievable. I don’t have keys to my own house. No turning back now, though. Whatever it takes, I’m getting that book.

  After testing the door to make sure its locked, I throw a glance back over my shoulder at the cab driver who is staring at his phone, then I circle to the side of the house, coming to a stop in front of a window. Taking a deep breath for courage, I take off my shoe and throw it straight through the glass, waiting. Nothing happens. Thank God. My father must have forgotten to set the alarm in the confusion of evacuating.

  I take off my other shoe, using it to clear away the jagged shards along the bottom of the pane. Judging I’ve already gone past my three minutes, I heft myself up and climb into the window. Careful to avoid the glass, I hit the ground running, taking the stairs up to my room two at a time. Adrenaline spins like mini windmills in my veins, my heart pounding, my vision bright and sharp.

  The hate and resentment that fills me when I unlock and enter my room momentarily freezes me in my path. But thinking of Mick, I fight through it and run into the bathroom at full speed, throwing open the door and entering my painting room. The book is sitting right where I left it on a crate full of paints, such a functional thing that has become vital overnight.

  I grab it, spin around and run for the door, not even bothering to give my room a final glance before tearing down the hallway, book clutched to my chest. I’m at the foot of the stairs, intending to stuff my feet back into my shoes and climb back out the window…when my father walks into the house.

  His expression goes from calm to deadly in the space of a second.

  But it goes nuclear when he registers the book in my hand. Not that he moves a single muscle. “What are you planning to do with that, daughter?”

  “I was…coming to find you. I had a question about one of the orders.”

  He doesn’t believe me. That much is obvious. “Why is your leg bleeding?”

  “Is it?” I ask, my voice high pitched. “I don’t know.”

  My father takes one step past me, rolling a single, lethal shoulder when he
sees the broken window in the next room. “It appears you did not learn your lesson last night, daughter.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you even liked your lesson a little too much, da?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I whisper.

  When he starts to back me toward the stairs, I drop the book, my heart rapping against my ribs. “Stop. Don’t come any closer,” I scream, surprising him. Surprising myself. I’ve never stood up to him. Never talked back or questioned him. I’ve been too afraid. Not anymore, though. I’ve got something to fight for. Someone. And I’ve got a new life to begin. A chance to make up for the years he’s stolen from me.

  I won’t give it up.

  Using his temporary pause to my advantage, I snatch up the book and start running. I just have to get out of the house and past him. If I can beat him to the glass sliding door at the back of the house, I can find a way down into the canyon. I’m lucky he’s alone right now, without his ever-present gang of dead-eyed gangsters. I only have to elude one man. With my happiness at stake, I can do anything.

  I sprint fast enough to make my legs burn, reaching the glass door and flipping the lock, but I only get half of my body through the opening when my father catches up, dragging me back into the house by my hair. No. My balance is lost and I go down, still clinging to the book, my eyes watering at the pain in my scalp.

  “Where are you going, huh? Who are you running to?”

  I make a grab for his wrist, hoping to ease the pressure of my hair being pulled, but I shrink back at his expression of rage. He’s going to kill me. The book is proof that I was going to betray him, and to him, that’s the ultimate sin. One that comes with the penalty of death.

  We’re in the middle of the kitchen when my father flips me over onto my back and lands a smacking blow across my face. It renders me blind for long moments, church bells ringing in my ear. When I regain my sight, he’s kneeling between my thighs, his shaking hands coming toward my neck. They wrap around me tight there, squeezing. Stealing my ability to breathe.