by Judy Jarvie
Does Kate really need a messed-up beast? Answer, no. So, now she knows the full gory glory.
“I usually like candle wax. Crops. Nice things to ask of a lady, huh? Crop Mistress Miscreant was her fake name. She didn’t mind. Turned out her time was up sooner than either of us were ready for.”
“Are you trying for shock factor?”
“Honesty is all.”
“Beats sex trafficking and pimping—that’s my dad’s example. Or making love to me, whether you’re hurting me or not—and I nearly married him. Hell, the last guy I wanted didn’t even want me at all, after designing his preferred tattoo on paper. Believe me—I’ve seen my fill of guys whose needs come first.”
And in that stark sentence I’m lost. Her scars are substantial—who am I to take first pew? Fuck worrying…if vanilla is what’s on the table here, I’d gladly dine for the rest of my life and return for more. But I sense I’m not worthy.
I kiss her so hungrily she mewls at the back of her throat. I’m inside her and I’m grinding into the delectable, soft, hot, wet heat that is Kate, again. Her pussy makes me shudder, weak with the desire to screw her senseless, and before I know it, I’m pumping hard, bam, slap, grind. It’s so incredible, she’s calling out in the heat of passion, wanting as much hard vanilla as I can give.
Missionary, for fuck’s sake.
I thunder into her, and know she’s on the cusp of shattering beneath me, so I drill harder and force her thighs wider as I slam my dick at a heady pace to her deepest spot with frenetic repetition. Moving her to raise her legs high.
She’s coming for me and I love every panted cry.
“Come, baby. I’m nothing you need—givin’ you all I have.”
She’s coming. Loving the ride and saying my name over and over, breathing gasped entreaties and gyrating her pleasure so wantonly that I slam in once more, and come. My cum filling the condom at DEFCON One, and taking me to that sexual nirvana place in my head where no thoughts or remorse or recrimination are possible—for a few sweet seconds of time. Only this time they don’t go.
The black smoke of grief and shame remain.
You’re a beast.
Why should a woman this sweet and potent, with such deep past scars, ever settle for a messed-up wreck like me? She’s no idea of my night terrors. Or that I have to play these kink games to settle the demons. Or that my last girlfriend was a hooker who was shot dead as a hostage in a drugs raid on a liquor store. Caught in the cross-fire. First I knew was when I saw her photo on TV.
What kind of guy am I? How can I kid myself I’ve anything to offer?
My dad was right. I’m a drop-out embarrassment to the family name. I should have left her alone. Shoulda known better.
I pull out and I’m doing that thing. The one women disparage where the man retreats to stare at the ceiling and wish he’d thought it through. Wondering how to evade the look I know will be in her eyes when I dare to watch—disa-ruddy-pointment.
At max-carnage voltage.
Chapter Sixteen
Kate
I gawp in horror at Rich Redman. He’s watching me over his steepled fingers, with news less welcome than the mayor at a brothel orgy. And here I’d thought earlier with Dan was a showstopper carnival of heinous. We parted not talking, then he walked me to my room in silence and shut me in.
I’m guessing our paths won’t cross much if Dan can help it. I feel like I’ve tested a glass bridge with my little toe, only to have a mile of murderous shards crash under me. I’m hanging in there clutching the rope rail, but only just.
What we shared has turned us into limping casualties of kink turned caustic.
“We will take you from here tonight. You’ll meet Donaldson in a carefully choreographed exercise,” says Rich. “You’re briefed, and the plan is set.”
“I’m meeting him after all?”
He nods. “At the Santos Hotel—you’ll have a suite there. While we lure your father there tomorrow night, the mansion will be under siege.”
My stomach bottom’s disappeared in a ‘hey presto’ moment—like Houdini down an escape hatch. He’s taken my ability to breathe with him.
“Dangerous.” I’m struggling to keep the jitters from my voice.
“You’ll have cover. A carefully executed entrapment plan. The synchronized swoop on his mansion ensures all bases are covered and will allow us to rescue the trafficked women as planned. It’s all comes down to this—the eleventh hour at hand.”
Given the choice, I’d rather not have had him use the words ‘execute’ or ‘strike’. But it’s done and out there, and I’m hoping it’ll be my only brush with these verbs in the foreseeable.
“Who’s covering me? Draven?
“Him or Gonzalez.”
The way we’ve left it I’m not sure Dan’ll fancy playing Kevin Costner to my Whitney. Or Clark Kent to my poop scoop of peril. Right now, I’ve a yearning for Ben and Jerry’s followed by tequila and it won’t be pretty. I’m hoping Warbie has stock.
“I’d hoped that course of action had changed. Guess I’d banked on that more than I’d admitted,” I tell him.
“We were anxious after recent field attacks that there’s been too much threat. Flexibility is key and we’ve leaked information to Donaldson that you’re staying at the hotel now. There’s a big art sale there tomorrow night and you’re exhibiting.”
Me? I couldn’t even doodle a dot-to-dot disaster to save my skin.
“Oh. Won’t Draven be better placed at the traffickers’ lair?” I ask. As if I know the first damn thing about black ops cop operations. Yeppo. Do blame Daniel Craig for my flights of fancy. Do not blame me.
“Judgment call. We’re always ready for changes. Whoever is in charge will have a remit to keep you out of any danger. We’ll ensure your safety.”
The five star swanky Santos Hotel seems a bizarre locale for a Dad meets Daughter showdown. I find myself watching the incongruous Minion nodding desk toy waggling beside us on Rich’s desk. Throughout all this gritty shit it’s just grinning like a plastic loon. I wonder if somebody bought it in the black ops Secret Santa. Can I envisage Dan or Havana shopping for Minion nodders in a store? The thought of Dan doing anything as mundane as that causes my heart to wobble.
“Who bought that?” I ask. Don’t ask me why but it matters somehow.
“My wife. She’s Minion mad. If I stuffed it in a drawer she’d find out and kill me. Especially since the pregnancy hormones make her crazy and irrational.”
“When’s she due?” I ask.
“Last week.” Then his jaw clenches as if I’ve just confessed to three murders and being witchfinder general on the side.
“Oh.”
“But I should really be the one investigating your private life.” When his gaze meets mine it speaks a silent code for rumbled. “Whatever has gone on between you and Agent Draven will be set aside. The mission comes first—Draven knows this—so should you. We’re counting on you both to complete this mission, and we’ll all be going home. Whatever happens outside of here is your own business, but while you’re here I need total focus.”
“There’s nothing to take out of here. I think we can put it behind us. Be reassured nothing further will occur.”
And here’s the craziest part of all. Something inside me quivers at the realization that, by next week, this could be a distant memory—this crazy place, my incarceration, this gang of heavy duty top cop nutjobs. Rich, Warbie, Dan. Havana. I’ll be back to my real life—yet more changed than ever.
And there are some gripes I need to air to the big man while I have access. “I don’t appreciate being a honey trap for my Dad. Why didn’t you all explain this better to me first? It’s all ‘push Kate around like an old chest of drawers on casters’, and I’m sick of being steamrollered by the might of M I bloody whatever number it is you work for.”
“Interpol Sex Crimes Protection Division, Security Force Nine to be exact,” he says softly, and the detachment of it all dings
my nerves. But, suddenly, Rich looks like he’s a man who really needs a drink. He whispers to me, “Whatever is going on with you two in private should go on hold from now. Put whatever stuff is in the air on pause. That’s a direct order. Draven has been formally warned.”
“I won’t work with him until he apologizes to me anyway,” I reply. Though a part of me can’t believe I’m talking to Dan’s superior and being this petty. Yet, a part of me senses they need me badly and I can ask for whatever silly sundae I choose to order from the mission’s menu. I choose Pique Speared Hurts Chip on Shoulder Surprise.
Rich takes a deep breath. The kind I’ve seen Freddie Mercury do in video moments when he’s about to slay everyone with his vocal range.
“I’m sorry,” says Dan behind us. “She’s right, she deserves that much. I owe it to her.”
Where the hell did he come from? A trap door? Like in a pantomime?
“Where did you…?”
He motions with his head to a glass panel in the wall. It’s a two way mirror and I hadn’t twigged. He’s been watching the chat. Nice.
And now I don’t know what to say. I’ve got what I wanted. Yet it feels empty. Hell, it is empty. Meanwhile, Rich stares at his iPad as if formulating a very large shopping list, probably for Minion-print baby goods—anything but be stuck in the same room as a pair of lust-lorn lunatic odd bods like us.
“It’s not you, it’s me—isn’t that what you’re about to say?” I say softly.
“I really like you. I’ve been straight with Rich and come clean on us. I’d like us to have a future—though I sense I’ve screwed up too bad. But the mission will always come first. I’m tasked with protecting you—and for now that’s all I can focus on.”
Shit. Like a camouflaged ninja prairie dog, his through the roof surprise about ‘a future’ leaves me speechless. “Oh.”
“Do you mind having me guard you? I won’t proceed if there are grudges.”
I shrug. Then I sigh. Then I shrug again and say no.
Rich nods. Dan nods back.
It’s like being invited to the nodding dog convention, only my spring’s burst, and I feel car sick from too much distance travelled.
“Strictly professional. Job comes top billing or no dice,” says Rich.
“Strictly professional,” we answer.
Dan hands me a note. “Here’s your itinerary to refresh you. You’ll be moved out of here at dusk.”
I scan the note. There’s an itinerary. But in front of it is another scribbled note. I sense now may not be the time to read its details. They might be personal.
Holy conscience attacks—this man is so full of dark mystery and most likely bull. I scrunch and pocket the details.
Rich Redman rises behind his desk. I hope to God he’s no clue Dan’s sending me personal notes as mission prep.
If he suspects he doesn’t show it. Instead, he holds out a hand for me to shake.
“It’s a pleasure working with you. We’ll meet when this mission’s complete. Best of luck, Kate. I know you’ll nail this.”
I nod at Rich and rise to leave. My eyes clash with Dan’s in silent accusation, but he doesn’t miss a beat and just stays unruffled and silent. Once we’re outside the office Dan watches me and reaches out his hand to take mine.
I evade his touch. But he tugs me close to the hard planes of his chest.
“Strictly professional?” I whisper. Then I deflect by removing the note from my pocket and scanning.
The sex was outstanding. We’re really good at it. But I can’t be what you want or need, even though I want you. You’re worth much more than I can give. I wanna try—I’ll accept it if it’s already over. Where do we go from here? Your call.
He says softly, “All the things you’re thinking. You don’t know how wrong you are. You’re worth it. I’m worth bailing on. We could be something stunning. This shit is getting in the way.”
His eyes school me to stay silent. I summon courage and calm and sniff back surprised tears. Then realize I’m shaking, and I know he can feel it because we’re closer than close. So much for our in-office promises.
The tears slide down my cheek and I’m so mad at myself I could voodoo doll my own emotional weakness. I try to stem the flow with fingers, but Dan thrusts a napkin at me to gently dab them away.
“I know you’re frightened. That’s okay. I won’t ever let him hurt you and I think you can do this. You’ll smash it,” said Dan. “He’s going down for a very long time at your hands—you’re the heroine here.”
I blow out a sigh and go with it. I stare back into eyes that cause mini-electric shocks inside my veins. I let my head fall against his shoulder and let the whizzing thoughts go as I take in the magnitude of what he’s just admitted. I can smell him. Citrus and spice. Feel Dan’s strong heady warmth through his thin, black shirt. I can perceive the latent strength in his arms and the great proportions of his body—we fit so right it freaks me out and already my pussy is pooling with need for him, and my clit twitches. I’m so easy I should be arrested and cautioned.
“Instead of doubting you and doubting me,” Dan whispers, softly pushing away a tendril of hair, “take a few moments to think that you’re here now—you’ve overcome. You’re the only woman who’s stopped me in my tracks. I’m not going to mess up this chance to prove how good we could be together. Let me try.”
Dan’s breath grazes the side of my neck and gives me goosebumps.
The sentiment of what he just said does something warm and squishy and emotionally gratifying, but it raises my respect. The touch of his hands on me through my clothes makes me inwardly melt and heat. I find myself seeking out his mouth with mine for scorching kisses. His tongue dips inside and claims my mouth. Filling me with his strength and clamoring need.
“Don’t fancy you, huh?” he says. His cock presses my abdomen like a weapon of intent. Dan sucks in a breath. “How can I regret a move that’s got me this close to you? We all have scars, Katie. Me especially.”
His lips meet mine. Hard, hot, unyielding, vital and free. Soaring to the high heavens. Desire pools inside me as I kiss him, wildly influenced by the man who is driving me on. Dan has the power to blitz my good sense with his sexy allure and his attention. He makes me aware of my attributes rather than deficiencies.
But seconds later the sound of a slam in Rich’s office has us on auto-react.
We spring apart as the door opens.
“It’s happening. Gotta leave, gotta get there,” says Rich. His face an ashen mask of shock and preoccupation.
“The mansion? Has something happened to the hostages?” asks Dan.
Rich only stares, wide-eyed and worried.
Dan—man of steel—takes his superior’s arms between his palms. “Tell me, Rich—what’s happened?”
“Baby coming. Now. Got to leave. You’re in command. I’m out of here.”
Adrenaline is racing inside me as I stand staring at Rich, whose stress is now tempered with relief. But only for a few stalled seconds—because now we’re another man down. I’m about to be thrown into the pit without Dan as backup. In a weird daze I help Rich make preps to go and get to his wife’s side. Could this get any odder? Who’d have thought a senior agent would take off for personal reasons when a months-long mission was about to go down?
Dan flicks me a glance, and I clock it. His jaw is vice-clenched. He’s in charge and the promotion becomes him. If looks could give passionate hugs, his one just has.
“Let’s get Gonzalez. He’ll be your bodyguard, and nothing’s going wrong on my watch, honey. Trust me.”
Shit going down here or what?
* * * *
Dan
I have to let her go and that pains me, because she won’t be on my direct watch. It has me so wired I could take her across my knee and spank her until her gorgeous globe cheeks redden with my hand’s attentions.
Or alternatively go to town with her tied to my bed.
Until Kate, I’ve taken to pa
ying women for those tricks. A moment of reprieve until the mental vision of Nathan’s prostrate dead body bleeding from two bullet wounds comes flooding back. With the taunting voices—you did that, you let him die.
I’ve been atoning for past sins with boudoir bullets. Until a civilian in my charge changed the sexscape so I no longer know which way is up. I’m standing with a thundering pulse watching her walk away with another guy.
“Gonzalez. Keep me regularly briefed.”
“Copy that, Sir.” Gonzales is such a ringer for Robert De Niro he could be his younger brother.
“Low profile. Any changes of play come through me.”
“Got it.”
“Got that, Sir,” he gruffly commands.
“Got that, Sir.”
I can feel my heart ramping, and as a pro shooter who prides himself on focus, that’s never good. “Katie. Do as this man says. I trust him with my life, and yours.”
She bites her cheek but she nods and fakes brave. “See you when I see you?”
“Sure will.”
She nods and I see her lip tremble, and it spears my gut. Why do I feel like I’m in a storm buffeted by her low key unexpected and goddamn felling charms?
I run back a few paces. Gonzales keeps going, but Kate stops, and I reach out to stroke her face. Softly, gently and she smiles at me with tear-rimmed eyes.
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m not. It’s a hologram.” Kate stares at me, and I’m still stroking her cheek. Longing to trace her mouth with my thumb. Longing to swoop in to claim her mouth with mine. I have it bad. So bad.
“Warbie will take care of you today. Make sure you say your goodbyes to Havana too. Believe me—I care about keeping you safe.”
She smiles, and my heart springs like crazy.
“I’ll stay safe. Sir’s orders.” Kate’s look pleads with me. Her beseeching gaze beneath those dark curling lashes could have me sign my own death warrant. “You must stay safe too. Just because you’re the one in command suddenly doesn’t mean you’re bulletproof.”