by Tess Summers
“Laila Hernandez is visiting San Diego for a few weeks, and her father wants her to stay, since he’s relocated from Tucson. Take her out tomorrow night. Show her a good time, make her think San Diego is the best damn city in the world, and I’ll take the bounty off your girl’s head. It’s not exactly like this is a hardship, Dante. Have you seen Miguel’s daughter?”
Dante had. In fact, he’d met her on more than one occasion. She was pleasant enough for a spoiled cartel kingpin’s daughter. She had perfected the role of daddy’s girl, and Dante suspected that would translate to her love life as well. And while he wasn’t opposed to a woman calling him Daddy, the only one he wanted doing so was the one he had locked away in his proverbial tower—who insisted she didn’t love him.
He also suspected the most he’d ever get out of Kennedy Jones was a Sir. If he told her to call him Daddy, she’d probably roll her eyes and call him Father or Pops out of spite.
And that was why he loved her so fucking much. It was also why he cherished her submission when she gave it to him, and why he enjoyed taking it from her when she put up a fight.
Her jealousy when he’d told her his plans to go to San Diego and take Laila to the opera had been a pleasant surprise. It also confirmed that she was lying about him only being an assignment.
He stopped back in her room before leaving for the airport and handed her a small, pink plastic bag.
“What’s this?” she asked with a surprised smile.
“A bra and panties,” he said dismissively. “Do you need anything else before I go?”
“How about a key?”
He smiled in spite of himself. He was trying to remain aloof with her, but she made it difficult.
“Seriously, Dante. What would become of me if something happened to you? I’d die a slow death in here, and no one would ever even know.”
He had already considered that. He’d placed an envelope with John’s name on it in his safe, with instructions to release her unharmed. Granted, it’d probably be a few days after his demise before the envelope was discovered, so she’d be a little hungry, but she’d live. He decided to send his American friend a text telling him to look for it if something happened. Dante was planning on seeing his trusted right-hand man tonight when John picked him up at the airport, but decided it was better not to wait. What if something happened to his plane?
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Bella. Try to enjoy your evening.”
He hadn’t meant to call her by his favorite term of endearment; it had just slipped out.
She snorted in derision. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll just be catching up on my emails and working… oh, wait.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, little one.”
Goddammit. Kennedy—not Bella, not little one. Call her by her fucking name.
“Your saying that just proves how little you know the real me. Sarcasm is my native tongue.”
“I know you better than you think, Kennedy Alicia Jones,” he said, taking a parting shot before exiting the room.
But not before hearing her huff, “I doubt that.”
He hated to admit it—even to himself—but he doubted it, too.
Chapter Eleven
Kennedy
Dante was on a fucking date while she was locked in this goddamn prison.
An overnight date. She had to admit it—that felt like a punch in the gut. But, seriously, fuck him. What a jerk.
But it also meant she was unsupervised. All night. Maybe she could figure a way out of here after all—get far away from Dante Guzman and start the process of healing her heart and mind.
Kennedy spent the next hour observing the room and planning, but didn’t actually move into action until she felt certain he’d left. She stripped the sheets from her bed and twisted them, tying the fitted and top sheet together to form a long rope. Next, she emptied the cooler Dante had left and tied the handle to the sheet. That would give her the weight she needed when she tried tossing it around a camera he had mounted near one of the high narrow windows next to the ceiling. It was hard to judge from the ground whether she’d be able to fit through it, but she was going to at least try.
The cooler was clumsy; instead of wrapping around the camera, it knocked it from its base so it was hanging by the wiring.
Shit. She had definitely better escape before Dante got back and saw that.
Luckily, there were more cameras and more windows.
She experimented with other objects until she was able to lasso a water bottle around a camera mount. Kennedy moved the bed to break her fall, in case the camera didn’t hold her weight, then she gingerly started her climb up the wall.
****
Dante
They’d just reached cruising altitude when he got an alert on his phone that one of the cameras in Kennedy’s room had been moved. He chuckled to himself as he brought up the app to watch her.
“That little minx.” He grinned as he clicked buttons, then quickly jumped out of his seat when the room appeared on video.
Pounding on the cockpit door, he thundered, “Turn the plane around! Now!”
If he got back in time, he was going to blister her ass. He just hoped he made it before she escaped.
Dante slumped back down in his seat, watching in disbelief and shaking his head as his little assassin went about her breakout. He knew what she was capable of—had seen her in action when she came for Cassandra and Lucas—and he still fucking underestimated her. Her tiny stature and beautiful features made it easy to do.
“Fuuuuuck!” he roared and punched the seat next to him.
He was going back to Ensenada to keep her with him until he could keep her safe, but keeping her safe meant he was supposed to be in San Diego tonight.
Picking up the plane phone, he pressed the button for John. His eyes were still glued to the screen on his cell; he was amazed at her ingenuity.
“Get your tux out. You’re going to the opera tonight.”
Chapter Twelve
Kennedy
Breaking the window proved harder than she’d originally thought. It was difficult getting leverage when she was balancing on two inches of window ledge. She’d deduced she’d be able to squeeze through, barely, even with three pairs of yoga pants on. On her second trip up the wall, she brought bath towels to lay over the frame. Hopefully between that and the added layers of clothing, she’d minimize the risk of cuts from the glass.
Keni hadn’t allowed herself to think about how angry Dante was going to be until her second climb up the wall.
Good, fuck him. She’d be back in the States before his date was even over. Hopefully she’d be off the estate before they were even naked. Asshole.
Clearing as much glass as she could, she laid the towels over the frame, wrapped the sheet around her wrist and laid flat. The makeshift rope was only going to reach halfway down the exterior wall, so she was in for quite a drop. Keni took a deep breath, rolled out the window, and began rappelling down as far as the sheet would take her. She braced herself with her legs against the brick, took another breath, and dropped her feet away from the building to dangle. With eyes closed, she let go, landed in a crouched position, then rolled. Her training told her to jump up and run, but she lay on the ground, mentally assessing her body for any damage.
“Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Dante’s voice was low, but angry. Scary-angry. She’d never heard him sound like that, and a quick glance at his handsome face when he appeared from the trees, still in his tuxedo, indicated his tone matched his mood.
She was up like a shot and running like her life depended on it.
It probably did.
****
Dante
Holy shit, she was fast. The tennis shoes she had been wearing the night she arrived had gone into the closet next to the four-inch heels he’d bought her, and he’d known it was a mistake the minute he put them there. Now, as he slipped over the wet grass in his shiny loa
fers trying to catch her, he was cursing himself for not trusting his gut.
Luckily for him, his stride was much longer than hers. Unfortunately for him, she was trained in evasive maneuvers and was darting through the estate faster than he was. Each time he thought he’d caught her, she broke stride, dodging this way and that. She was like a little fucking red-haired ninja.
“Goddammit, Kennedy. Stop! I’m not going to hurt you.” Much. But his commands fell on deaf ears.
They reached a clearing of grass—all that was left once she got past the lawn was the fence, then she was off the property. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
He kicked his shoes off, thankfully pulling his socks off in the process, and broke into a sprint after her, tackling her before she reached the brick barrier.
She kicked and punched, but finally he was straddling her on the ground with her arms pinned above her head. They both stared at each other with chests heaving, unable to speak as they panted from exertion.
Finally, he huffed, “What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed yourself with that stunt.”
Her breathing was still heavy, and she simply shook her head.
Lowering his face inches from hers, he growled, “I can’t lose you again, Bella.”
Out of the blue, she attempted a maneuver straight out of the MMA, attempting to wrap her legs around his neck from behind and flip him over. Unfortunately, he was too tall for her to pull it off.
“Would you knock it off?”
Her wiggling and struggling was making his cock hard, and her vulnerable position wasn’t helping matters.
“Damn it, woman,” he snarled before planting his lips on hers. Her response was instant. He hadn’t expected her to return the kiss so easily, so he was immediately on guard. She whimpered and pressed her hips up as he pressed his down. Holding her wrists in one hand, he dropped onto his elbow and stretched his legs out so his body enveloped hers completely, their pelvic bones crushed together as he deepened the kiss. They were soon breathing heavily again, for an entirely different reason.
He needed to be inside her—now. The way she was fumbling with his belt, she was either setting him up or she felt the same. Why the fuck does she have so many pairs of pants on??
They were soon naked from the waist down and with one swift motion, he was inside her wet, inviting pussy. She bucked her hips up to meet him, and they both moaned as he filled her completely. His thrusts were slow but steady while he hugged her upper body and nuzzled her neck.
“You feel so good,” she whispered.
“Don’t leave me, Bella,” he growled, pulling her tightly against him and thrusting harder. “I need you.”
She didn’t respond, just moaned her appreciation at his efforts.
“You belong with me, little one.”
He leaned down and kissed her. She hadn’t answered verbally, but the way she clung to him told him what he needed to know.
Plunging into her pussy, he hit her clit with each upward thrust and each slide back until she wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs. Thrashing her shoulders, she called out his name in ecstasy. He loved how her pussy got tighter around his cock when she came.
“I’m ruined for any other man,” she sighed underneath him, his stiff cock still buried inside her.
“That’s good, because you’re never going to be with another man.”
Once again, she didn’t reply.
Nuzzling her neck and breathing her in, he whispered, “Baby, you can’t leave me. It’s not safe.”
“Why do you care, Dante?” Her voice was soft but strong.
He lifted his head so he was looking her in the eye. “I love you. If something ever happened to you, I don’t know how I’d survive.”
She snorted. “If you love me so much, why were you taking Laila Hernandez to the opera?”
“Because my uncle said if I made her happy, he’d take the bounty off your head.”
She paused for a moment, slowly digesting what he’d said.
“And I screwed that up,” she sighed knowingly, her fingers twirling the hair at his collar.
He chuckled as he removed his tux jacket and set it in the grass next to them.
“I sent John in my place. I don’t think she’ll complain.”
“Who’s John?”
“John Turner, my right-hand man in America. You met him.”
Her furrowed brow indicated she wasn’t making the connection.
“Dr. Bruce Parker. Your jogging partner.”
“Ohhhhh. Yeah, he’s a very nice consolation prize for Dante Guzman. Good pick.”
He tickled her sides, growling, “Oh, you think so, huh?”
She erupted in squeals and tried to move his hands, resulting in them wrestling and switching positions so she was on top of him, his dick still inside her. Dante grabbed his jacket and covered her bare ass with it; she didn’t need to give one of his guards an eyeful, should they be discovered.
As if on cue, he was blinded by a bright light. Using the lapels of his jacket, he pulled her face into the crook of his neck to hide her from his security man’s view, and wrapped his hand around the back of her head. With his other hand, he shielded his eyes.
“Mr. Guzman? Is that you?”
“Yes, Eduardo. It’s me.”
He heard the soft click of the safety on the AR15 being engaged, and the light was immediately turned off.
“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here.”
“We just decided to go for a stroll.” Dante didn’t point out the obvious—that they were sprawled out on the grass, not strolling. Eduardo was smart enough to not to mention it either.
“I’ll, uh, just continue my rounds.”
“Thanks. Why don’t you skip this sector on your next pass.”
They lay still for a few moments. Then Kennedy rested on her elbows and looked down at him, giggling, and it melted his fucking heart. Cupping her face, he pulled her mouth to his. Just as before, she immediately returned his kiss, and once again, he became lost in her. She began to roll her hips against his while unbuttoning his shirt, and yanked it open once the last button was undone. Dante tugged her t-shirt and sports bra off her, and she fell forward, making them both moan out loud when her bare skin came in contact with his.
She started to kiss from his neck down to his chest, her stiff nipples grazing his core as she moved her hips to situate herself further down his thighs, the better to kiss and lick his nipples. His fingers tangled in her hair, caressing her scalp, and he began to slowly move inside her.
Dante stroked her cheek with his knuckle. “Bella, you could have been killed. Is being here with me so terrible that you had to literally climb the walls and jump out a window?”
“Do you really want to have this conversation right now?” she asked as she subtly moved her hips in circles.
His cock was buried inside her, yet he was warring with himself. He did want to have this conversation right now, but he also wanted to keep fucking her.
“Yes,” he replied, but not pulling out.
“You weren’t here with me, remember? You were on a date. And I was going crazy in that room. I can’t go back in there, Dante.” She continued delicately riding his cock.
He tucked her hair behind her ear, then briefly closed his eyes to relish how good she felt.
“Can I trust you to stay with me? At least until I get things with my uncle squared away. Then it will be your decision if you remain here or leave. I won’t force you to be here if you don’t want to be.”
“I promise,” she whispered, then started to roll her hips more vigorously, temporarily leaving him speechless. Her pebbled nipples were sexy as fuck and her pussy felt so damn good. “Let me know when you’re going to come.”
He started to manipulate her clit with his fingers. “Just concentrate on you, baby. I’m not going to until you do, and I promise I’ll pull out when I do.”
She was a fucking
sex goddess, taking her pleasure as she rode him unabandoned, and he was having a hard time keeping his promise. Mercifully, her cunt soon began to quiver around his cock, and she made soft noises as she climaxed. Dante gripped her hips tight and began to thrust hard and deep into her before lifting her ass off him and spurting onto his stomach with quiet grunts.
Kennedy slid along his side and sighed contently when she nestled her naked body next to his, using his tux jacket as a blanket.
He stroked her hair and whispered, “Come on, Bella. Let’s go inside.”
Chapter Thirteen
Kennedy
They stood and gathered their clothes, Dante dressed much faster than she did, partly because she was trying to separate three pairs of yoga pants. Impatiently, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder, her bare ass on display for anyone to see as they walked past—though she knew his servants and staff were smart enough to make themselves scarce.
She loved that he always took charge. From the first day she’d met him, when he wanted something done, it got done. He made sure of it, oftentimes handling it personally.
He marched up the stairs and into his room, tossing her on his bed so her body bounced before he raised her arms over her head and nuzzled her neck again. Slowly, he pulled away and leaned back to take her in under the glow of his bedroom lights.
“My beautiful, Kennedy. Back in my bed where you belong.” The way he uttered her name was almost reverent, and it made her skin break out in goose pimples while her nipples stiffened. He noticed the tiny dots on her flesh and laughed. “That’s my girl.”
Keni was relishing being Dante’s girl again—so much so that she didn’t comprehend the handcuff on her left wrist until it was fastened to the headboard.
“What are you doing?” she huffed.
“Just in case you’re thinking about killing me tonight.”
“Are you serious? You know I’m not going to do that.”
“Well, my little assassin, I can’t be too sure.” He leaned over to shut the bedside lamp off, pausing to tell her, “Goodnight, Bella. Sweet dreams.”