Hostage

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Hostage Page 6

by Stone, Piper


  “Not until you learn to obey.” I peppered her bottom, one hard crack coming after the other. My hand ached within seconds, the sting a caustic reminder of the situation I’d allowed myself to get into.

  Yelping, she seemed more startled than anything. When her hand flew back, I wrapped my fingers around her wrist. I was forced to take several deep breaths in order to calm my raging libido. “I asked you a question, Carina.”

  She shifted back and forth, undulating on my lap. Grinding into my cock. I was electrified from the touch. What a little temptress. I could only imagine her in a court of law. In fact, I’d been lucky enough to see her in action, including the trial against the infamous Santana Dioletti. She was formidable, a woman who had awakened my every need.

  Again.

  “Yes. Sir.” She spit out the words, hissing under her breath.

  I smacked her bottom again and again, wanting nothing more than to rip down her jeans and panties. That would come later as necessary. I was warm, my entire body ignited from the searing thoughts of everything that I was allowed to do to her.

  What we were required to do to her.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  You’re not an animal. You’re not a killer.

  The ugliness of the truth was far too difficult to ignore.

  “Stop!” she pleaded once again.

  I continued spanking her ass, her slight whimpers making my cock stay at full attention. “As long as you can learn.”

  “Yes. I will!” she insisted. “Just stop.”

  I tossed her into a sitting position, keeping both hands on her arms and calming my breathing. “I’m serious.”

  “Yes. Sir,” she spat. Such defiance. Such arrogance. She stared into my eyes, batting her long and luscious eyelashes as a slight smile curled across her lip. She had no idea what I’d fantasized about doing to her.

  She would soon learn.

  Aleksandr chuckled again, spewing some bullshit in Russian. I’d had no choice but accepting him as a third, the requirement no doubt to keep me in check as much as our hostage. I’d be counting the days until I no longer had to deal with his crap. Until then, I’d be forced to endure more than just his presence.

  “Two miles,” Damien said in warning.

  Carina eased her hands through her hair. Always the tease as well as the professional. She wanted to look her best, even in a cheap ass diner. I admired her more than she knew.

  The rumble of the engine shifted, Damien making a sharp right turn. I moved into a crouched position, enabling me to scan the perimeter out of the windshield. The building had seen better days, but the parking lot was filled with various vehicles, mostly older trucks. In the middle of the freaking night. Small towns were interesting. From what I was able to see, the location was also far removed from any other businesses.

  “We holster our gun,” I directed, giving both men a stern look. “We don’t need any attention drawn to us and we won’t use them unless our guest attempts to talk to anyone or tries to escape.” I directed the statement and my gaze directly at Carina. I could tell she got the point.

  Aleksandr gave me a respectful grin, as if I’d just earned some points.

  “The shithole even has gas tanks. We’ll be all set.” Damien pulled the van into a parking spot, cutting the engine. He looked over his shoulder directly at Carina as he shoved his weapon into the glove compartment. “Can we trust you?”

  “I don’t even know where the hell I am. I could be in Canada for all I know,” she retorted.

  “A smart mouth like that might earn you another punishment,” Damien stated before opening the door.

  The garish light accentuated her porcelain skin, the rosy glow that crested along her jawline.

  Damien snorted while Aleksandr jumped out, throwing open the side door. He held out his hand. “Ladies first.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she muttered.

  “You’re going to eat something.” Aleksandr lifted a single eyebrow, his body rigid.

  She was attempting to push every button.

  I pushed her gently, making certain I was right behind her, my hand placed firmly on her back. The scent of bacon and grease assaulted my nostrils, almost making me gag. I’d eaten in far too many greasy spoons and cheap Mexican joints while undercover.

  She held her head high as she was guided forward.

  The tingle of the bell over the door announced our arrival and there wasn’t a single person in the diner who didn’t turn in our direction.

  Fucking fantastic.

  We certainly weren’t good ole Southern boys.

  “Nice music,” Aleksandr said under his breath. The honkytonk was little more than watered down country, but at least the loud volume would cover up our conversation.

  We found a booth in the back and I slipped in beside her. She was demure and very quiet, barely looking at the waitress when the young girl brought us menus. The redhead’s face was covered in freckles, her ponytail giving away her age.

  “Something to drink?” she asked, her eyes glued to Damien. The slight lump in her throat highlighted her uncertainty. She was also extremely attracted to the man. He had that way about him, the same as when were teenagers.

  So, there were at least a few good memories running through my mind.

  “Coffee. Stiff and black,” Carina answered first. “You don’t happen to have a shot of bourbon for that, do you? I might need two.”

  The girl laughed, trying to determine if Carina was serious. “Well, it’s a little early for that, sugar. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not after the day I’ve had,” Carina retorted.

  I slid my hand under the table, grabbing and squeezing her fingers. “A round for all of us. Including the coffee. Why the hell not?”

  “True. We’re embarking on a new adventure together. Very together,” Damien teased.

  Carina rolled her eyes. She was attracted to Damien, fighting it every second and I felt the hard hit of jealousy snapping me between the eyes. I wanted her for myself.

  My need for her was carnal, the kind of desire that could make me lose myself.

  The order caused the redhead to giggle. “Ya’ll know how to live. You ain’t from around here. I know that much.”

  The second the girl walked away, Carina yanked her hand from my grasp, squinting as she looked out the window. “Where are you taking me and why? Ruger? Who is your master holding the ball and chain? As if I don’t know.”

  The way she spat my name was both sexy as hell and infuriating. I’d garnered the nickname long after she’d left years before, the name a bridge between the undercover world and what some called reality.

  “Keep your voice down,” Damien directed as he leaned over the table. “I don’t want to be forced to discipline you here in front of all these nice folks.”

  Huffing, she leaned forward until their lips almost touched. “Is that the only way you can handle a woman? Spanking? Will you have a cage ready for me?”

  Aleksandr chuckled, his usual method of handling the situation. “Not a bad idea.”

  Damien brushed his knuckle around her lips. “You’re beautiful when you’re spiteful.”

  A slight moan shifted from her lips a split second before she bit down on his finger, making growling noises and shaking her head.

  The noise was just enough to garner attention, faces peering in our direction.

  To Damien’s credit, he didn’t react with his usual violence. Instead, he gave her salacious smile before cupping her jaw with his other hand. “Enjoying yourself, princess? I didn’t know you were into kink. I’ll keep that in mind. That cage might come in real handy.”

  The air deflated, she spit out his finger in an exaggerated fashion, slumping in her seat. “Bastards. All of you.”

  Damien and I shared looks, his brow lifting. When we were younger, we had an odd connection, the ability to grasp onto each other’s thoughts. I could tell what he was thinking. “At least we got that straight,” he sai
d with confidence. “For now.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. Maybe exhaustion was simply settling in. We sat quietly for a few minutes until finally the locals grew bored with the freaks invading their space.

  “Here you go.” The waitress was wide eyed, her hand shaking as she deposited the glasses and cups.

  Carina immediately grabbed the oversized shot, throwing back the entire contents then sliding the glass across the table with a hard thud. She concentrated once again on the window.

  “Wow. You were thirsty. Um, do you want to order or need some extra time?”

  “We’ll order,” I stated, tipping my head until I was able to see Carina’s reflection. The tenacious attorney believed we’d been hired by Dioletti to take her. At this point, I’d allow the false information to stand. Then again, the mafia king might be a part of this. What I didn’t like was not knowing all the facts.

  “Why don’t you order for me, snookums? I need to go to the ladies’ room.” Carina nuzzled next to me. She rubbed her fingers down my cheek, using the tip of her nail to trace my jaw then inching ever so slowly down the front of my shirt. “Course, you can come with me if you like. I’m all hot and bothered. I’ve never done it in a cheap bathroom before. First time for everything on our...adventure.”

  “It’s right over there,” the redhead said, pointing then giggling again.

  If Carina was searching for any kind of reaction, she wasn’t going to get one. I slid out of the booth, pulling her out. She seemed surprised by the electricity soaring through us. I inched closer until I was able to detect the scent of fear. “Be a very good girl.”

  “Yes, sir. I always am.”

  I twisted my head, watching her walk away. Everything about this moment was oddly cathartic, the woman I’d had a crush on forced back into my life. Karma was a damn bitch.

  “She’s mighty fine,” Damien said under his breath.

  “She is trouble,” Aleksandr added.

  I took a deep breath, the scent of her still lingering. I could almost taste her.

  And I would.

  Damn it. She was everything I’d ever wanted.

  Chapter Four

  Carina

  His touch. His eyes. His...everything.

  “Jesus.” As soon as the bathroom door closed, I pressed my back against the wall, trying to catch my breath. The bourbon had at least calmed my nerves to some degree, although I doubted that would last for long. The connection I shared with Ruger was off the charts and completely irrational. He was nothing more than some criminal being paid by a monster.

  Then why did I have the feeling he wasn’t? He had a much more sophisticated demeanor, obviously educated although rough around the edges. I hadn’t found many hardened criminals with a solid education. Maybe I was just assuming too much. Maybe the exhaustion and terror had stripped me of any concept of rational thinking.

  Be a good girl. Yeah, exactly what I was planning on doing.

  They had weapons. If only I could get ahold of one of them. There was no way. They were far too well trained to make a slip.

  The bounty hunter’s face popped into my mind, making me blush. He was just as enigmatic but in a more rugged and haphazard kind of fashion, short cropped blond hair and ice blue eyes. So cold. So empty. I couldn’t believe I had any level of attraction for even one of them.

  I eased my hand around to my backside, rubbing. The two men knew how to spank a girl. That was for certain. The material of my jeans was a constant reminder of their required rules. Stupid. Stupid girl. Ugh!

  I took three gulping deep breaths, allowing my head to clear.

  The three of them together didn’t work as a team, but Ruger and the bounty hunter knew each other from the past. There was an edge between them, the kindred dislike of the Russian obvious. Now, I was playing some psychologist. This wasn’t about some adventure. Why the long journey. Given the time of night, wee hours of the morning actually and the accent of the locals, we were either in Georgia or the Carolinas. While Dioletti’s reach was far, North Carolina was stretching it. Or maybe not. I hated this, the uncertainty and the fear and the shame and the... desire.

  I moved toward the sink, turning the faucet and staring at my reflection. I already looked haggard, the past few hours having taken a significant toll. After rinsing my face and grabbing a paper towel, I slipped my hand into the pocket of my jeans. The only weapon I’d been able to safely hide was a small pocket knife. If they found it, I’d be punished for hours.

  My God. I was getting used to the concept of being disciplined like a bad girl. This was crazy. The adrenaline flowed, allowing me to think at least a little more clearly. I was alone in the three person bathroom and there were no windows. No other way out. Frustrated, I pushed open the first stall door, scanning the entire contents in seconds. Nothing that would help.

  The second was exactly the same.

  But the third? Hale-fucking-lujah. There was a window, albeit small and confining. I’d have little time before one of the gruesome threesome came looking for me. Hurrying inside, I closed the stall door and tried to reach the lock on the window. It was just a few inches too high. I listened for any sounds before standing on the toilet. With any luck, the hasp would move easily and I could slip out.

  No such luck.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  My fingers fumbling, I yanked the knife from my pocket, trying desperately to pry it open, finally managing. The lock was as old as the building, worn to the point in the dim lighting even locating a way to pry it open was difficult. I pushed on the glass first, hoping it would budge. I could almost swear the damn thing was glued into place. So much for following county code.

  I finally managed to slide the tip of the knife into what I thought might be the correct mechanism when I heard the bathroom door open. Crouching down, I held my breath. The footsteps were dense. I almost breathed a sigh of relief when it was obvious the visitor was going into the last stall.

  Until the door in front of me was pushed open in a forceful manner.

  Ruger stood in the confined entrance space, his arm over the metal edge of the stall, the expression on his face one of amusement.

  “Hello, sweetheart. Miss me?” he asked, his eyes immediately falling to the Swiss Army knife. He held out his hand, exhaling.

  “I just felt sick.”

  “Uh-huh. Planning on slitting your wrists or escaping from the window?”

  I glanced up, pretending I hadn’t noticed. “I wasn’t going to do that. Besides, I couldn’t fit through the opening.”

  Ruger snapped the knife from my hand, pocketing it then taking a step away, beckoning me with a single finger. “You might be an excellent prosecuting attorney, your arguments some of the best in the business, but you are a terrible liar.”

  My skin began to itch, my stomach full of butterflies. I was thrown back into days of my youth when my parents had caught me in the act of doing something wretched, which I did on a regular basis. My father, albeit rarely in my life had insisted that I clean up my act. When I told him that I’d been accepted into law school, he’d glared at me, spouting off vile thoughts of the law in general. Then he’d broken open a bottle of champagne. His wayward daughter might not end up locked away.

  The punishment then had always fit the crime. I almost choked on the thought. Just who was the one committing an offense? I thought about Ruger’s words, another red flag raising. “You’ve seen me in court?”

  “Let’s just say I do my homework, Carina. I’m good at what I do.”

  The single flick of his eyes told me that he was also a terrible liar. I’d been right about him. This wasn’t his normal life.

  He towered over me, his rugged body reeking of glorious testosterone. He was all male, his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders giving way to the most glorious set of pecs pushing through the ever-so-thin material of his tee shirt. He inhaled, a slight curl appearing in the corner of his mouth.

  I stood quietly, my hands in front of me awa
iting my fate. I felt like such a fool for attempting to get away and losing credibility in this manner. There would be no trust between us. How could either one of them trust that I wouldn’t attempt to run away at any given chance? I didn’t want to react in any manner, but the intoxicating scent of his cologne alone was far too invigorating, sending a shower of tremors shooting all the way down my legs. I swallowed, checking on my lip.

  “Seems we have ourselves a dilemma,” he said quietly, rubbing his index finger back and forth across his furrowed brow.

  Everything about him was authoritative, so commanding. “Do I even want to know?”

  “If I know anything about you, I’d say yes. You appreciate learning every detail about your cases and the criminals you prosecute.”

  Why was he so transfixed on the criminals? “That’s true.”

  “You’re observant.”

  “Very true.”

  “What does my face tell you?” Ruger asked as he pointed to his face.

  Damn, if those gorgeous blue eyes weren’t twinkling again. He was having fun with this. “That I’m in big trouble. Is that what you wanted me to say just like a bad little girl admitting her sins? Or would you prefer I give you those observations?”

  I was prepared for additional sparring. I wasn’t prepared for him to snap his hand around my arm, yanking me toward the sink. He pressed my groin against the edge of the cheap porcelain, grinding his hips against my backside.

  “I think you have a long way to go in figuring out you’re not that woman any longer.”

  This was nothing more than a reminder that I’d never see my friends again or my home—my very empty home.

  “Now, what’s going to happen is that I’m going to discipline you here instead of waiting. Trust me when I say, you’d prefer that I handle your punishment.”

  “Instead of the bounty hunter? You didn’t like that at all, did you? I mean when you learned he put his hands all over me.”

  I’d struck a nerve. I could see it all over his face. He kept his position, leaning even further over and planting both hands on the mirror. There was no way I could move. I felt the beating of his heart, heard the hard thudding. Then he narrowed his eyes. When he lowered his head, whispering in my ear, I was frozen, quivering.

 

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