How did I get here? A year ago, I was sketching bridges in Venice and now … She couldn’t believe how calm she was in this situation. She could be murdered any minute and …
Stop it. Close your eyes, think of something else.
Their wedding night. They’d flown to the big Island the day after Jakob had proposed, the day after that incredible, erotic night they’d spent on the terrace. Simple vows and that was that. Married. Two hours later, they’d gone back to their island hideaway and celebrated.
She slid the white cotton dress from her shoulders the moment they stepped inside the villa, and let it fall from her body to the tiled floor. She looked back over her shoulder at him and saw him smiling, obviously enjoying the striptease. He stepped forward to kiss her shoulder, while his fingers expertly popped the clasp of her bra. She let that fall, too, and turned to press her breasts against him, her lips seeking his.
“Take me,” she murmured against his mouth and with a growl, he swept her into his arms and carried her out to the terrace. It was evening, and the sunset made her honey skin golden in its light.
Jakob laid her down on the sun lounger and began to kiss her, his lips trailing down her body until his face was buried in her belly. She stroked his hair, turned on by the fact she was naked and he was still fully dressed. She was his, his wife, his love. When he looked up, she was surprised to see tears in his eyes, and he smiled. “God, I love you, Quilla Chen Mallory.”
She grinned. “That’s my name.” Jakob, his eyes full of love, gently pulled her legs apart and then his mouth was on her, kissing and sucking, tasting and teasing, her sex swelling and reddening under his touch. His tongue made her clit harden, and the sensitive nerve endings scream with pleasure, then he plunged it deep into her cunt, licking and tasting and loving. Quilla moaned, her entire body liquefying under his touch, every cell needing more of him.
“Let me suck you,” she pleaded, and grinning, he stood and quickly stripped. She gazed up at his perfect, hard body, the wide shoulders, the firm abs, and his cock, so big, so hard. She stroked it upwards from the root and took the smooth tip between her lips, one hand massaging his sac gently, while her forefinger found that sensitive spot behind his balls. Her mouth, wet and warm, enveloped his cock, drawing on him. His hands were in her hair, stroking her tenderly, letting the fine strands fall through his fingers. Jakob groaned as he neared completion, Quilla looking up at him.
“Come on my skin,” she said, and he nodded. His cock quivered and lengthened, and he shot stream after stream of hot, white semen onto her skin, her breasts, her belly. Quilla arched back, spreading her legs, running her fingers through the substance and massaging it in and down into her sex. “God, Quilla, yes, touch yourself like that ...” Jakob fisted the root of his still hard cock as he watched her masturbate, her long dark hair tumbling down her back, her golden skin oiled with his cum, her cunt glistening with desire. When he couldn’t take anymore, he dropped onto her body and thrust balls deep into her, pressing her legs as far apart as they would go.
Jakob rammed his hips against her, murmuring to her, telling how much he loved her, loved fucking her over and over. Quilla came, one roaring shattering orgasm after another, crying out her love for him. He didn’t let her rest, flipping her onto her stomach and pushing into her ass, wanting to possess her in every way. They fucked long into the night, falling asleep with their bodies tangled just as the sun rose over the island.
Quilla felt sleep come then, just as a tear escaped. Then she was in that semi-conscious state between awake and sleep when the images came to her: Jakob’s face turning from happiness to horror; the pain; her own body jerking and spasming as Gregor stabbed her to death …
She awoke screaming, and it took all of Hayley’s will to calm her down.
Skandar wanted to scream, wanted to howl. If Gregor Fisk walked into this room this very moment. Skandar wouldn’t need a weapon. He’d rip him to pieces with his bare hands.
Hayley. His sweet, young Hayley. He tried to take some comfort that Fisk had taken her, that he hadn’t killed her in the car wreck like he had the driver. He hadn’t needed the FBI agent to tell him why; Gregor would use her as collateral. To bend Quilla to his will. This was hopeful; she was useful, the FBI agent said. But what about when Fisk carried out his promise to kill Quilla? Hayley would have served her purpose, and be of no more use to him. He couldn't help but picture both the women dead, murdered.
Jesus … He would vomit, but after they’d shown them Hayley’s wool cap, he’d lurched to the bathrooms and thrown up and up, his father not knowing who to console first, his son or his girlfriend Nan, Hayley’s sister. She was a wreck. She’d hugged Skandar, no sign of reproach in her eyes.
“We’ll get her back; we will,” she whispered to him urgently.
Skandar knew the fact Hayley would be used against Quilla wasn’t lost on Jakob. In his uncle’s eyes, there was a deep sorrow, a resignation. He thinks they’ll be killed. The thought made Skandar want to howl. He went to his uncle and took him by the shoulders. “Don’t give up hope,” he said to him in a low voice, “don’t. If you do, I do, and I can’t live with that.”
Jakob had nodded stiffly.
The field office was filling up now; it was almost eight a.m. Jakob was back in that room with an exhausted-looking Agent James. Agent Bell had taken the rest of them to the cafeteria for coffee and breakfast, but no one felt like eating. Skandar stared out of the window, oblivious to the press pack on the street below them, aiming their cameras at the heartbroken man. He stared up at the dark gray sky that was threatening snow.
Where are you? Skandar thought, sadness overwhelming him. Where are you, my precious, darling Hayley? Wherever you are, fight to stay alive. Please …
Fight.
He came for Quilla about lunchtime. With Paul leveling a gun at Hayley, Quilla did not put up a fight when Gregor handcuffed her hands behind her back and marched her out of the room. She turned and looked back at Hayley. “I love you,” she said.
Hayley nodded. “I love you.” As the door closed behind her, Hayley shouted, “Please don’t hurt her.”
Quilla choked back a sob, not wanting to give Gregor any satisfaction. It was a relief when she saw both of Gregor’s goons exit and leave Hayley alone. She had seen the one named Paul looking lasciviously at the young woman, and she would die before she let Hayley be assaulted. Gregor led her to a private room, a dining room by the look of it, and pushed her into a chair, releasing her hands. He grabbed her head, forcing her to look at him.
“Christ, you get more beautiful,” he said roughly and kissed her. Quilla gagged and whipped her head away from him, and he laughed.
“Still so feisty. And overdressed.” He yanked her already torn dress open, running a leisurely hand over her breasts, her belly. Quilla squeezed her legs together, but he merely chuckled, gripping her thighs and prising them apart.
Then he walked away, and she sighed in relief. “Quilla, Quilla, Quilla ...” he said, and she gritted her teeth. He pulled a chair up to hers and sat down, studying her. She met his gaze defiantly.
He nodded. “Yeah, I can see why Mallory married you, keeps you in that gilded cage. You’re exquisite.”
Quilla’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s all I am to you, isn’t it? So-called ‘beauty’ and nothing else. Nothing that can’t be cut down with your knife. Maybe that’s your problem, Gregor, not seeing people for who they really are. What gives you the right to take what you want? I’m a human being, not your property, not Jakob’s property, or anyone else’s.”
“That’s where you’re wrong; I do see you. I want to know you, Quilla.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “Before you kill me? Did you want to know me when you stuck a knife in my gut?”
Gregor smiled. “That wasn’t meant to kill you, Quilla, just to send a message.”
“You sent plenty of messages, remember? I have to give you credit for your imagination, Gregor; you certainly thought up som
e pretty horrific ways to kill me.”
He chuckled. “Would you believe me if I said I was rethinking that idea?”
Quilla was shocked. “Then why are we here? Why did you take me? Hayley?”
“Your pretty little friend was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Then, please,” she softened her tone. “Let her go. Just drop her off and make an anonymous call. Just please, let her go.”
Gregor leaned back in his chair, his eyes roaming all over her body, obviously enjoying her torment. “Well, let me think about it. I’ll tell you what, lovely Quilla, I’ll make you a deal.”
God, she wasn’t going to like this, was she? Quilla swallowed. “What deal?”
He edged closer, cupping her breasts, stroking his thumbs across her bra-covered nipples. “A week. A week in which, Quilla, you will be everything to me that you are to Jakob Mallory. In every way. At the end of the week, if I’m satisfied, I’ll let the blonde go.” He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “If I’m not satisfied, I’ll let Paul have her before I kill her. And you, sweet Quilla, will wish you’d never been born.”
His eyes were cold, dark, and almost black with malevolence. Quilla couldn’t help the gasp of fear that escaped her. He smiled at that.
“Beautiful sound. I wonder, will you gasp like that when I’m inside you?”
Kill me now, she thought, please, just end this. But she couldn’t say the words, couldn’t let Hayley suffer because she was afraid. So, she tried to smile. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
God, no, no Jakob, I’m so sorry—but if fucking Gregor Fisk helped keep Hayley—and maybe even herself—then she would be a goddamned porn star for him.
Gregor allowed her to go back to the room now, and Hayley hugged her, crying. “I thought he was going to kill you,” she sobbed. “I had my ear to the door, in case you screamed. I was going to try to kick it down, oh God, oh God ...”
Quilla tightened her arms around her young friend. “It’s okay, baby. I’m all good, I promise. Look, sit down with me for a minute; my legs are shaking.”
Calming down, Hayley did as she asked, but pulled her sweatshirt off and tugged it around Quilla. “I hate seeing you like that—not that you haven’t got a great body—but knowing he wants you on show … it makes me sick.”
God, if you only knew … Quilla thanked her. “At this point, though, I’m past caring. Listen, we may have a way out of here … I just have to keep that psycho happy for a week. I don’t want to give you false hope, but I think he means what he says, so ...”
Hayley narrowed her eyes at Quilla. “What do you mean ‘keep him happy?”’
Quilla had to look away from her gaze. “Don’t worry about it.”
Hayley’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, no,” she said in a whisper. “Oh, no, Quilla, don’t. Please.”
“I don’t have any choice, if I want to keep you alive.” Quilla’s voice broke. “Please, don’t make it harder than it already is.”
Hayley’s tears poured down her cheeks. “Why do I want to blame Jakob for this? If he hadn’t fired Gregor, none of this would be happening.”
Quilla touched her cheek, smiling. “But then Nan wouldn’t have met Joel, and you couldn’t have met Skandar … Grady and Flori, Kit and Bo.”
Hayley choked out, “And Kit wouldn’t be dead.”
Quilla shuddered. “We can’t change what’s happened, Hayley; we have to focus on the future.”
Hayley wrapped her arms around her friend. “I don’t want you to … screw … him.”
“It’s just sex. I have to make it convincing; it might be the only way to get you out of here.”
Hayley stopped. “You mean us.”
“What?”
“You said ‘get you out of here’. You meant both of us, right?”
Quilla nodded. “Of course.”
But they both knew she was lying.
Carter James, running on two hours sleep in the recreation lounge, scarfed down a power bar and chugged two cups of lukewarm overly strong coffee. “Jesus.” He winced at the bitter taste.
“You could always make some more, you know. It’s not out of your skill set.” Ali Bell clapped him on the back. She looked as wrecked as he did. He smiled at her. The day Ali became his partner, he’d found both a loyal, smart, kickass partner and a best friend. Seven years later, and their record in investigating high-profile kidnappings and murders was exemplary. Personally, they had a flirty relationship—Ali had a mouth like a sailor and a wicked sense of humor—but they’d also silently agreed—no peeing in the company pool. It had served them well, through two divorces in three years for Carter and a broken arm from when Ali had taken down a perp three times her size.
“Anything?” Ali sat down opposite him, flicking a packet of sweetener. Carter shook his head. “The Mallorys and their team have done a pretty thorough job; nice to have unlimited resources. The trouble is, all those resources are at Fisk’s fingertips, too.”
“Be honest. You think we’ll find those two girls alive?”
Carter looked at her. “I’d like to think so. The younger girl, Hayley, at least. But Mallory’s wife? Fisk is obsessed with her.” He sat thinking for a while. “Mallory says she’s a smart girl, a grad student. I wonder if she’s thinking of her options.”
“What do you mean?”
“She knows Fisk is obsessed with her—maybe she can play him.”
Ali winced. “God.” She had immediately guessed what he meant. “That poor girl.”
“Yeah.”
Ali sighed. “Look, we’re trying to find out everything we can on Fisk. Since he went off grid when Mallory fired him, he’s left no trail. It’s almost as if he’d been planning to go native. A couple of years ago, there were seven hundred million dollars in his current account. That’s just his current account. Factor in investments, on and off-shore; Jesus, that’s more money than we can imagine. Then, just over a year ago, his US investments were cashed out. His account was cleared out. Carter, this guy’s got his money stuffed in a mattress somewhere. Maybe we should check out Walmarts around the country for anyone who’s been buying shit like the Rapture’s coming.” She grinned but Carter sat up.
“That’s not a bad idea ...”
“Oh, come on, I was kidding.”
“No, think about it. If you’re right, that would be some lead to follow. So far, we got nada. Any theory at this point is worth investigating.”
Ali still looked skeptical but nodded. “Well, okay, I’ll go set up a search of big wholesalers … still seems a bit easy to me.”
Carter grinned, a big cheesy smile at her. “You never heard of Occam’s Razor?”
Ali gave him a death stare. “Graduated Suma from Harvard, top of my class, and you think I don’t? The simplest answer is usually the right one.”
Charlie chuckled. “Which reminds me, I need to talk to his professors at Harvard—you got a contact?”
Jakob couldn’t bear to go home. Not without Quilla, not knowing if she was dead or alive or in horrible torment. I love you so much, baby; please hang on for me … I’ll find you, I swear. He booked into a hotel a few blocks from the FBI field office and called Miles to have some of his clothes brought to his room.
His assistant, Miles, answered on the first ring. “Hey, cutie.”
“Hey, Miles, can you—did you just call me “cutie’?” Jakob was bemused.
Miles laughed. “I did. Do you know why?”
Jakob gave a quick laugh. “No idea ...”
“Quilla. She bet me I wouldn’t call you cutie when you least expected it. So now, she owes me money. That’s how I know she’ll be okay; she owes me money. Plus, that’s the girl who everyone loves, who everyone pulls for, fights for. That girl doesn’t get dead. I know it in my bones.”
Jakob didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but he was tremendously moved. “Miles, remind after this is all over to give you a huge raise in pay. Damn, man; that’s the f
irst time I’ve felt better in hours. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Now, what can I do for you?”
At five-thirty, Paul came to their room. He threw a plastic bag at Quilla. “Boss says have a shower, put that on. Dinner’s in a half hour. You,” he leered at Hayley. “You can take off whatever you want.”
“Fuck you,” Hayley shot back, and Paul laughed.
“I wish. Maybe once the boss has had his share, I’ll be allowed to show you a good time.”
Quilla stepped in front of Hayley. “Get out. Tell Gregor, I’ll be ready.”
Paul sneered at her but left the room. “Cocksucker,” hissed Hayley, then looked at the bag in Quilla’s hands. “Let’s see.”
Quilla took a deep breath in, stuck her hand in the bag and drew out a handful of white cotton. A dress. Both Quilla and Hayley let out a sigh of relief.
“I so thought that was going to be some sort of S&M gear,” Hayley said, taking the dress from Quilla and shaking it out.
“Me too, and thank God, it isn’t.” Quilla smiled suddenly, “It would have ruined it for life for Jakob and me.”
“You don’t?”
“Of course, we do. Don’t you and Skandar indulge?”
Hayley looked both shocked and amused. “No.”
“Not yet,” teased Quilla. “Ask me for tips.”
Hayley shook her head. “How can you laugh at a time like this?”
Quilla suddenly looked tearful. “Because it’s the only thing I can do, Hays. Please, distract me from what I have to do tonight.”
Hayley threw her arms around her. “You are the bravest person I’ve ever known,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
But Quilla didn’t feel brave; she felt desperate a half-hour later, as Paul led her at gunpoint to Gregor’s dining room. The host himself was waiting, resplendent in a tux, with his collar open, his tie undone. Quilla supposed he thought he looked irresistible—he was anything but that. Her flesh crawling, she waited until Paul left the room before sitting down at the chair Gregor pulled out for her. His fingertips drifted across her bare shoulders, and she shivered.
Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 48