Broken by a Dangerous Man

by Cleo Peitsche

  I somehow managed to drag myself over to the canvas bag and fish out the phone.

  It seemed to ring a million times before Rob said, groggily, “Hello?”

  “Greetings from Paris!” I was way too chipper.

  “Audrey? Hey,” he said. “You made it. What’s it like?”

  “From a distance, the Eiffel Tower is pocket sized. Honestly, I haven’t seen much. I just got here. But you’re not going to believe who I saw on the plane.”

  “The president?” Rob guessed, and I would have bet anything that he had his eyes closed and was about to fall asleep.

  “Massimo!”

  “Who’s that?” he murmured. “The president of France?”

  “The guy Frances had me following around,” I said.

  And then I remembered that I hadn’t told Rob about Massimo.

  “What? Can you repeat that?” There was a faint click, and I could imagine Rob turning on the light, putting on his glasses.

  “Actually, I’d rather not, but…” I told him about the investigation. He mostly listened. “Are you mad at me?” I finished.

  “No… just confused. You could have told me.”

  “But then if Dad found out, it would have looked like a conspiracy. It’s different now that we’re partners. A bit like how you set up the bank loan for the office expansion and didn’t tell me until the end.”

  We were both silent. We were both thinking about how our relationship had changed over the last ten months.

  Then Rob yawned.

  “So… Massimo,” I said, because I wasn’t ready to get off the phone. “Seeing him here, that’s crazy, right?”

  “I dunno,” Rob said. He did a poor job of stifling another yawn. “I mean, he’s European, so he must go back sometimes. He lives in the same city we do. Do you expect him to fly out of a different airport? The odds aren’t against it.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Let’s see… He works during the week, so it would make more sense for him to fly on a day off—”

  “So many assumptions there.”

  But Rob continued as if I hadn’t interrupted. “There are two flights per weekend, so we’re down to 104 travel days a year. But it’s the end of August, Labor Day weekend, and fares are dirt cheap. All the broke people are traveling now. That drops us from 104 days to two days. I would say it’s a 50/50 chance, but you said Massimo is a party guy, so he wouldn’t waste a Saturday night in the air—”

  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “I’m merely pointing out that there was a 100% chance that Massimo would be on that flight. You shouldn’t be any more surprised about having seen him on that plane than you would be to see a guy dressed like Santa at the mall on Christmas Eve.”

  I decided to ignore Rob’s ridiculous little speech. “Massimo knows I was hired to follow him.”

  “Was he pissed?” Now Rob sounded wide awake. And worried.

  “Not about that. He thinks I followed him to France, which is crazy. And get this… He’s a fugitive.”

  “What? Audrey, what is going on? Are you shitting me?”

  “He’s wanted for murder.”

  Rob groaned. “Very funny. Seriously, do you know what time it is?”

  “Six in the morning?” I guessed.

  “I would give my left nut if it were that late. Enough with your nonsense. Goodbye.” He said it fondly, but he hung up anyway.

  And now I wondered…

  I opened a browser on the cell phone and brought up the restricted database we used at work to search for warrants and previous convictions. My login worked just fine—I hadn’t been sure it would. After all, why would someone in Europe have a legitimate reason to run a search?

  I tapped in Massimo’s name and waited.

  No hits.

  He wasn’t wanted for murder, so why did he think he was in danger of being extradited?

  A mystery, and not one that concerned me.

  Suddenly exhausted, I tossed the phone back into the bag and fumbled with the knots on my boots. It took a long time for my weary and uncoordinated fingers to get them undone.

  The bed was made, and I wondered if the staff lurked in the corridors, waiting for guests to leave so they could rush in to straighten up. When I pulled back the covers, I caught the slightest whiff of Corbin’s aftershave. Home.

  No, not home.

  Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.

  Even though I knew better than to get into that bed, I rolled between the sheets and pulled them over my head. The sound of the linens sliding over my face was drowned out by my ragged breathing. Every time I took a breath, I sounded like a little kid trying not to cry.

  I turned in the darkness and shoved my nose into the pillows and inhaled. Corbin and I had been living together for months, and when I thought about all the ways I’d taken him for granted…

  How many times had he asked me to cut back my hours? How many weeks had I worked without taking a day off?

  He’d been right. I knew that. And when I didn’t offload enough of my responsibilities, he’d come along on stakeouts to help.

  If my priorities had been aligned differently, that wouldn’t have changed a damned thing about the situation with his wife, but at least I wouldn’t be in this lonely hotel room and consumed by regrets, wouldn’t be thinking about how I’d squandered the brief time I’d been given with him.

  After how difficult things had been at the beginning of our relationship, with Corbin a wanted murderer, I should have known better. I should have appreciated him more.

  I closed my eyes and took a minute to appreciate this at least: wrapped in his smell, in sheets that had been on his skin.

  It would be the last time, because as soon as I shook off the exhaustion, I was going to check myself into a different hotel.

  Chapter 5

  The ringing phone cut through my dreams, and I thrashed in the sheets until I could paw them away.

  Sunlight still poured into the room, so I hadn’t slept all day.

  Blinking, I sat up. I felt hungover. And disgusting. Nothing like falling asleep fully dressed and without attending to basic hygiene to make a girl feel like a biohazard.

  Well, there were two bathrooms to help me remedy that. No harm in taking a shower before I left. I swung my feet over the side of the bed.

  As I straightened stiffly, I caught a glimpse of movement, and the blood drained from my face.

  “Welcome to Paris, baby,” Corbin said.

  He was gorgeous in a tight, button-down black shirt and jeans that molded to his athletic legs. He held up his hand, a piece of paper between two fingers. “Did you not see my note on the desk?”

  He was a fair distance away, but the sunlight made his vivid blue-green eyes especially hypnotic. His dark hair, curling at the ends, was shoved back, out of his face, and I could see where he’d recently pushed his fingers through it. In a few moments, the hair would fall forward again.

  So many little things I knew about him. Like now, the way he walked toward me was a bit cautious. At the same time, his smile was genuine. It was also heartbreaking.

  “Audrey?” The concern in his deep voice made me feel, paradoxically, sick.

  “I need a shower.” I darted for the bathroom door, closed it, locked it.

  Noisy lock, that slid home with a clunk. Corbin had to have heard.

  My hands shaking, I stripped off my clothes and pulled back the modern, transparent shower doors to turn on the water. I was only barely aware of my surroundings, of the soft lights, the pristine checkered floor, and the gleaming claw-foot bathtub that stood opposite the toilet and sink, and diagonal to the shower.

  I found the cloth bathmat and dropped it onto the floor.

  Corbin knocked on the door. “Audrey? Baby?”

  As I stepped under the water, I heard him knocking again.

  It was a very nice shower. Top-of-the-line toiletries. I gargled with the cinnamon mouthwash, which tasted good enough to
swallow. The shampoo smelled like warm, sunny fields. It reminded me of a bed and breakfast Corbin had once taken me to.

  But all that seemed like a distant memory, perhaps something that had happened to someone else.

  I felt like a wild animal that had been lured into a trap and couldn’t get free. Because I was trapped, and I just needed some time to process everything.

  There was a strange noise, and a draft of cooler air blew in.

  Through the foggy shower door, I saw the outline of Corbin’s broad shoulders and his dark hair.

  “I can’t believe you picked the lock,” I said. My voice trembled. He couldn’t be in here; I wasn’t ready. My soul was an open wound, and I couldn’t be around anyone else, couldn’t let anyone near me.

  He pulled back the shower door, and I foolishly covered my breasts with my hands. Not that Corbin was even trying to look.

  “Yeah? Well, I can’t believe you ran in here like a toddler and then locked me out,” he growled.

  My hands still on my breasts, I lowered my neck in a futile attempt to push the curly tendrils of sopping-wet hair out of my face. “Do you mind?”

  “Yes, I do.” Not caring that he was getting wet, he shut off the shower with an abrupt twist of his arm. The last of the water whispered down the drain. “I have to go out for a few minutes, but I’m worried about you. You saw me and ran away. Since when do you run away from me?”

  These weren’t things I was prepared to discuss. Defiantly, I met his eyes. “You have to go out? So go.”

  “Baby… Don’t do this. Talk to me.”

  I glanced pointedly at his crotch, then looked back up. Sex, at least, I could deal with. Sex was safe and familiar and easy, and it would never leave me wounded, no matter how roughly he fucked me.

  “Do you have time for a quickie?” I asked in a sultry whisper.

  “Really?” Irritation sparked in his eyes.

  Holding his gaze, I reached out and groped the front of his jeans. Impossible to say if he’d been aroused before I touched him, but within a few seconds, I was positive that he was fully erect. I squeezed his hardened bulge, but he didn’t even blink.

  “What are you doing, Audrey?”

  “Seeing if you’re going to be faithful to your wife,” I said before I could think better of it.

  His pupils widened in shock, then his countenance turned stony. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  “Is that how we’re going to do this?” The growl of his voice both frightened and excited me.

  He grabbed my wrist, his fingers a cruel vise. Immediately I released my hold. I had no choice.

  Still fully dressed, he stepped into the shower stall, forcing me against the damp, warm tiles.

  I tried in vain to jerk free of him.

  Instead of letting go, he stretched my arm over my head and held it against the wall. I flexed my fingers, trying to keep circulation in them.

  “Look at me,” he ordered.

  Biting my lip, I shook my head.

  But Corbin pushed his body against mine, and he used his other hand to force my head up. The pressure on my neck didn’t relent until I raised my eyes to his.

  “I don’t recognize you right now, baby. Come back to me.”

  Yet he was still hard. I knew because I could feel his erection through his tight jeans. His large, hard body felt good on top of mine.

  “Why don’t you fuck some sense into me?” I purred.

  “You don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he growled.

  I began to tremble as I realized what I truly craved.

  For him to hurt me. For my physical pain to rival, if not surpass, the deep ache in my chest.

  “Do it,” I said. Tears blurred my vision. “Hurt me.” My free hand groped at his waist, but I couldn’t wiggle my fingers between the press of our bodies.

  Corbin pinned my other arm over my head, and he held both wrists with one hand. He exhaled, but his entire body was so tense that he seemed to vibrate.

  He rocked his hips away and angrily jerked at his zipper. “Open your mouth,” he said. When I didn’t move fast enough, he squeezed his fingers into my cheeks until I relented.

  Slowly, I flicked out the tip of my tongue and moistened my lips.

  I knew he could read the desire in my eyes, but that didn’t mean he would give me what I wanted.

  Fuck me, I thought. Punish me for what I said.

  Without yielding his grip on my wrists, he dropped a hand to the back of my neck and forced me to bend at the waist. His cock claimed my mouth with a vicious thrust that had me gagging.

  Sexually, I loved it. When Corbin was rough, it turned me on.

  Emotionally, I wondered if this was bad for our relationship.

  I didn’t know what was happening. When I did stupid shit, we always found our way through it. Just like we’d found our way through his job as an assassin, and the double lives we’d both had to lead.

  We’d been through so much, and I just wanted things to be easy. To stay easy. Normal couples didn’t have to deal with things like government-sanctioned murder or kidnapped spouses who hadn’t been killed after all. I didn’t know what to do when he was at the end of his patience. When it came to believing in the relationship, Corbin had always been the steady one, the reliable one.

  Which probably meant this was my time to be reliable, to let him lean on me.

  But I didn’t know how to be that person. I sucked at relationships. There was a very good reason my love life had consisted of one-night stands before I met Corbin.

  Under different circumstances, I could have apologized at least, and I would have. However, I was on the precipice of losing him for reasons I’d predicted the moment I learned his wife might still be alive.

  And he’d told me I had nothing to worry about.

  He was supposed to protect me. He’d begged me to trust him.

  With a grunt, he forced me all the way down on his cock, and I tried to squirm away even as I did my best to satisfy him with my mouth. I could hear him breathing heavily as he held me in place.

  How I craved the peace of mind that usually came when he held my body immobile and used me, but I couldn’t get there. I kept thinking, He hates me. I went too far.

  I struggled harder, hoping to earn myself a prolonged spanking. A feminine whimper rose from my tortured throat, and Corbin’s stiff erection thrust faster.

  He didn’t seem to be taking pleasure in this, I realized.

  The pounding of my pulse turned my face hot, and I felt sweat dampen my cheeks.

  He pulled me away from his cock, his hand in my wet, tangled hair forcing me upright. We were both breathing heavily, but he was almost growling.

  “Open.”

  I opened, and he licked my mouth. I winced, tried to pull away.

  He reached a hand down and slapped my pussy. I whimpered.

  “Stay still.”

  His tongue swiped wetly over me. It turned into a violent kiss, his tongue like a thrusting, stabbing weapon, and I was helpless to resist.

  My nipples hardened to painful peaks, and slick wetness gathered between my legs.

  He slapped my pussy again, his fingers whipping against my clit.

  I moaned as sharp pain slashed between my legs.

  “Spread your knees.” He shoved a muscular leg between my thighs. The denim scraped my skin.

  I slid my legs apart more, and I waited for the delicious punishment.

  It didn’t come.

  “No… You don’t deserve more.” He bit my lip, then shoved his tongue into my mouth. He walked backward as he kissed me, yanking me out of the shower. We moved together clumsily.

  One of his large shoes caught the edge of my toe, trapping my foot against the bathmat that slid and twisted underneath us. I tried to dance away, but he wouldn’t allow me to move, and I suffered the discomfort in silence.

  Then he pushed me to the floor. I fell in a heap at his feet. It was one of our bedroom games, but the stakes had never be
en so high.

  “Crawl to the tub,” he said. “If you’re going to act like an animal, I’ll treat you like one.”

  In his hoarse voice, I could hear how betrayed he felt. As long as he lived, he’d never forget my spiteful words.

  And even if he did, I wouldn’t.

  I turned my face toward him. “Hurt me,” I said. “Please. I was wrong—”

  “Crawl,” he ordered, his voice like thunder.

  I crawled, my knees sliding on the slightly humid floor. I could still feel Corbin’s angry, possessive kiss bruising my lips.

  “Hands in the tub,” he said, and I placed my palms on the cool porcelain surface. The side of the tub, while curved, pressed painfully into the soft area just below my ribs.

  My wet hair dripped down my arms, the drops merging into little rivulets. My knees were beginning to ache.

  He knelt behind me and roughly pushed apart my cheeks.

  “No,” I gasped, but it was too late. He was licking between my legs, sending thrills of undeserved pleasure shooting through my body. The stubble on his jaw scraped my thighs because he wasn’t bothering to be careful.

  He dragged his tongue roughly up and swept it over my pucker.

  I closed my eyes in humiliation. This was the one thing I hated more than having my mouth licked. It always made me want to melt into the floor and disappear.

  But he wasn’t done. This was my punishment, or part of it. He clearly wasn’t going to spank me. I understood. I didn’t deserve to be spanked. I didn’t deserve to orgasm from his mouth on my clit.

  His tongue turned harder, and he jabbed the tip right at my hole. I clenched my muscles, trying to keep him out.

  He sat up, but his strong fingers continued to hold my cheeks apart.

  The swollen head of his cock prodded at my slick folds, then he pushed inside my pussy.

  I cried out. My fingers tried to dig in, but there was nothing to grab hold of inside the smooth porcelain.

  Corbin fucked into me. Each of his thrusts rammed me into the tub’s curved side, and it was a good thing I hadn’t eaten.

  His fingers pulled harder, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  I knew what was coming next.

  He spit on my exposed asshole, and then, without missing a beat, he moved from my pussy to my ass. I burned as his cock settled inside me, and I tried to scramble away.