Stranded (Boys Behaving Badly Book 4)

by Delilah Devlin

“Do you have a destination in mind or are you hoping to reach the ocean?”

  “Like we’d have enough gas,” I grumbled. I had a twenty in my pocket but no credit card. It wasn’t safe to carry more when I worked at the clinic. “I know a place where we can go and, uh, regroup.” The gun changed everything; he was back in total control, but I did need rest.

  “I look forward to seeing what you have planned.” He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes.

  The landscape turned hilly. We were nearing the caves of Kentucky. I could simply make a sharp turn and drive us over the edge of a bluff. That way the world would be rid of Vador. However, that wouldn’t bring much of a reprieve to Indianapolis. Another bad man would soon fill his position. I’d learned he was called a new-breed gangster: educated and ruthless. That first night I’d seen him, he’d worn an expensive suit with a pristine white shirt, and his hair styled. His gold jewelry had glittered in the candlelight. I’d wanted him, but I had a history of making poor choices when it came to men.

  I took the exit to a two-lane highway and made a left onto a county road. Eventually, I turned onto a gravel drive. I spoke before he could. “I need to find the key. Do you have a flashlight in here?” If he could conjure a gun, then why not ask for a light?

  “Check the pocket behind your seat.”

  I quickly located a large Maglite. I turned it on and walked to the tall tree about twenty-five feet away. I ran my hand along the thick root and found the taped baggie. I worked it free then tore it open. When I returned to the SUV, I handed the flashlight to him.

  I drove down the unmarked lane until we reached the security fence. I again stopped and prepared to get out.

  “What is this place?”

  “Cabin.” I climbed out and unlocked the heavy chain. After I drove through, I closed the gate and secured the chain. We followed the rough road to a small cabin. “Somebody could climb the gate or wade through the brush, but it would take some effort,” I explained slowly. “Should I park here or drive around to the back?” If we were tracked here, we’d be dead, but I didn’t want to put out the welcome mat, either.

  “Who comes here?”

  “Just me.”

  “Leave it.”

  “I need to go in and turn on the lights and the heat. I might have something for you to put on your feet.” I glanced at his bare feet and cursed myself for caring.

  “Do not worry, Mariah.”

  “Suit yourself.” I grabbed the flashlight and the keys. As I climbed out, I glanced into the back seat and noticed there was a black duffle in the back. “What’s in the bag?” Jesus, it could be anything.

  “Supplies.” He was moving slowly, stiffly.

  “I’ll come back for it.”

  I had him settled in the only bed. He rested on top of the antique quilt, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket. “I’m going to get the bag.”

  “Mariah.”

  His sharp tone made me freeze.

  He held out his hand. “Car keys.”

  I pulled them from my jeans’ pocket and handed them over. The stupid thing was, I’d never considered taking off.

  I was in a good place, not yet awake but aware, warm and secure. There was a hand on my breast, plumping and stretching my nipple. I shifted back into his warmth. I moved my foot to intertwine with his.

  “You like my touch.” His voice was low and husky.

  My eyes flew open, and my hand went to my breast, gripping his that was underneath my T-shirt. “What do you think you’re doing?” The earlier hours came rushing back to me.

  I’d retrieved the duffle then found an air-tight container of pretzels in the cabinet and bottles of water that were left from my last visit months earlier. I’d changed into a huge T-shirt in the bathroom and sat on the corner of the bed asking Vador questions about his pain level. He’d taken the ibuprofen from my medicine cabinet without argument, and I thought I’d stay close until it kicked in. In the meantime, I’d curled up at the bottom of the bed and prepared to wait…

  “There was enough room for both of us in this bed.”

  His hot breath tickled my neck, and I felt my inner thigh muscles flex in anticipation. “I need to…”

  He kissed my neck as his hand broke my hold and caressed my breast.

  A low moan escaped my lips. I felt the bastard chuckle as his lips moved to that sensitive tendon that ran from my chin to my shoulder. God, it was like flicking a direct switch to my pussy.

  “On your back, bonita,” he purred.

  I rolled as his hands shoved my T-shirt over my head. I didn’t fight him, and I might have helped. My only defense was that it had been over a year since I’d been with a man, and I wanted sex...with him. What woman with a pulse and a history of bad decisions wouldn’t?

  The hands on my breasts weren’t gentle. I ran my nails lightly over his back, under his shorts, and over his firm ass. He yanked them down, and his hands returned to my breasts.

  I wrapped my hand around his cock and pumped his length.

  “I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name, begging me to stop,” he promised, or maybe threatened.

  I wanted that. “Then do it.”

  His hand moved under my panties. His fingers found my slit, and he slid into me. “So wet.”

  I shifted to push my panties down my hips and then my thighs. His hand never stopped exploring.

  He found the bundle of nerves hidden behind my pubic bone, and I jerked and panted, “Vador…” Jesus, he was also working my clit with his thumb.

  “So beautiful,” he growled.

  His hand vanished, and I felt his weight shift then him filling me. My channel stretched with that sweet burning sensation to accommodate his cock. He didn’t wait. He set a swift pace as I gripped his upper arms, loving that I could feel his muscles flex with each pump of his hips. My hands didn’t travel over his strong shoulders or slide over his sweat-slickened back. I didn’t want to feel the gauze that covered his wound and worry that he was doing more damage to his body. I didn’t want to think, I only wanted to feel.

  We were like two animals—the sounds, the grunts, the physical act. This was fucking, and I loved it. Merely taking, not having to think about what he needed. This was all about what I could get. I dug my heels into the mattress and met him stroke for stroke.

  “So hot,” he rumbled as his hips added a twist that made me moan.

  I was trying to hold off my orgasm. I didn’t want this to end; it was too good. Plus, I couldn’t say his name. I didn’t want to give him that power, although, if he kept this up much longer, I would give him anything.

  He hit something that felt amazing, and I was his. I was dick-whipped.

  “Come damn you, come,” he gritted out.

  Dear God, he looked like an avenging angel with his dark hair falling forward, framing his face. I let go with a keening, “Vador.”

  With two or three strokes more, he gave a deep growl then collapsed on top of me.

  I stopped my hand from caressing his back. We weren’t lovers, and we definitely weren’t friends. I couldn’t explain what had just happened. I started to shift, trying to slide from under his body.

  “What?” He didn’t stop me.

  “Coffee,” I mumbled. I needed to get away from him. This was too close, too intimate. I didn’t understand my feelings, and honestly, I didn’t want to examine them.

  He allowed me to slide to the edge of the bed, and I walked naked to the bathroom. It was the only space that had a door and some privacy. I sat on the toilet and scrunched my eyes closed as I felt the threat of impending tears. I had to keep it together.

  When I exited the bathroom, Vador looked so serene, quietly confident and satisfied, as if we were on a lover’s retreat and not stuck here, hiding. I’d showered and dressed, then walked to the kitchen to inventory the food in the pantry and freezer.

  He’d pushed aside his empty plate and was drinking his third cup of coffee. “Who owns this place?”


  “I do.”

  He looked around the open space. “Why?”

  “My father bought it for my mother. She missed her home and wanted to have someplace in the wilds.” I shrugged. Discussing my parents was unsettling. “He was a professor, an expert on Eastern Europe. He met my mother while teaching one summer in Romania, so they married and she moved with him.”

  “To Kentucky?” His eyebrows were drawn together, questioning that decision.

  I’d been trained since birth to be vague about our reasons for living in this area. I frowned while considering my response. My father had been dead for over fifteen years. “He did some work for the government and thought it best to keep a low profile, and so…he wrote books and taught an occasional college class.”

  Vador nodded, but something had changed in his expression. I wouldn’t call it respect, but he was reassessing my strengths.

  “My mother loved it here, and it’s nice to have a place to go to get away.”

  “Yes,” he said, his expression not warm or friendly, “very convenient for us.”

  I wanted him to tell me the plan. What was going to happen to us…to me? However, he said nothing. I pointed to his coffee mug. “More?”

  “Please.”

  After I refilled our cups, I sat silently. I would not ask.

  “What is the food situation?”

  “Depends.”

  “Mariah...” he said, his voice rising in warning.

  I cut him off. “Why do you call me that?” It bothered me, the way he said my name. Something about it caused warmth and…hope to bloom in my chest.

  “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” The sweet words dripped effortlessly from his lips.

  He’s a killer, I sternly reminded myself. “We have enough food, as long as you don’t expect anything fancy. There are three cases of water in the utility room and plenty of coffee.”

  He nodded once.

  When he said nothing more, I rose and began clearing the table. I needed to do something; too many questions were running through my head. How long were we going to stay here? Could he call somebody if he found a phone? Was he going to kill me? I bit my lip hard as I turned on the hot water and waited. A part of me had known the answer the moment the man had pointed the gun at me in the clinic. The Cancerberos didn’t leave loose ends.

  “Can I help?”

  I felt his breath on my neck. The man moved quietly and, damn, my body wanted to rest against his. “You should rest after….everything…” I finished weakly, not saying, After you fucked me stupid. I wasn’t using my brain. I should be afraid. I was trapped with a dangerous man, and yet, I didn’t make a move to escape.

  He walked to the window facing the driveway and pulled back the drape, viewing the landscape.

  I scrubbed the plate with too much force while I tried to examine my feelings. I was three steps beyond burn-out. I worked too many hours on too little sleep. I had a few friends, but I kept them at a distance. After my marriage had disintegrated due to the abuse, I hadn’t trusted myself or my judgment when it came to others. I was…tired of this life and this version of me.

  I finished in the kitchen and moved into the living room. I’d left the surprisingly heavy duffle bag on the floor by the door. My plan was to move it to the bed so it would be easier to unpack. Vador hadn’t showered, and he needed clothes to change into. I leaned over, intending to use both hands to lift the leather bag.

  Suddenly, my back connected painfully with the front door, knocking the air from my lungs.

  “What do you think that you are doing?” His voice was low and furious.

  I struggled out of fear and confusion. His grip on my upper arms tightened painfully. “I…I wanted…”

  “To what?” He thundered.

  How had he moved so quickly? “To unpack,” I whispered. When he didn’t hit me, I continued, “I thought you’d want to shower and change.”

  His left hand moved to the base of my throat. It didn’t cut off my air, but I was very aware of his strength. He was so close to me, using his lower body to trap mine against the door.

  I moved my hands to his chest trying to make room so that, if he allowed, I could take in a deep breath.

  He leaned in so that his mouth was resting against my ear. “I think you like taking care of me, mami.

  My hands pushed against his chest, and I began to struggle. I hated it because he…he might be right.

  “Go on, put up a fight, Mariah. That way your surrender will be sweeter.” He grasped both of my wrists, pinning them to the door next to my head. His lips found mine.

  I didn’t want to respond to his kiss. I made a grunting sound as I pushed my hips against him. Jesus, he was so strong and focused on using his very talented mouth. No. I couldn’t want this or him again. My traitorous lips opened for him, and now his tongue was exploring, teasing. I kicked his ankle, hoping that I could make my escape.

  He stepped back and spun my body, so now I faced the door with his front pressed against my back. “My tiger,” he murmured.

  I could hear the taunt in his voice as I continued to thrash. It was pointless. He was stronger than me, but the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness urged me to continue.

  He yanked down my leggings, and his chuckle rumbled against my back. “No panties. I think you want me again, no?” He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled my hips backward.

  “No,” I panted, but I think we both knew it was a lie.

  It took him three seconds to free his cock and enter me.

  “Christ.” I bowed my head because it felt so good.

  He drew back slowly so I could feel every inch as his hand moved to my breast and his mouth lowered to my shoulder.

  Dear God, he surrounded me. Somehow his mouth, hand, and cock worked in unison to drive me insane. Either his teeth or his fingers caused a sting of pain as the steady pace of his cock soothed me. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I didn’t want it to stop. Ever.

  My hips pushed back to meet him. I went up on my toes with each stroke, while mewing sounds were being torn from my throat. It wouldn’t take much more, but I was greedy; I wanted it all from him. “Please,” I begged in a whimper.

  I could feel his heavy breathing against my neck as he mumbled an occasional Spanish word. His hips worked faster.

  “Vador…please.” I didn’t know what I was begging for, but I needed him to give it to me.

  His teeth closed painfully where my shoulder met my neck. We exploded together with shouts and cries.

  I swear I saw starbursts against the insides of my eyelids. This was so….so right. I turned my head to rest it against him, and I pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin under his chin.

  He cradled my body against his for a few moments. “Come, it is time for that shower.”

  Five days had passed, and I didn’t recognize myself. I felt like a different woman, one I liked and was comfortable with. We hadn’t left my cabin and had fallen easily into a routine. We slept late every morning, and then lingered over brunch. One of the cabin’s walls was made of shelves filled with books, and we spent the afternoon reading or sometimes napping after sex. The evenings were spent on the back porch talking, watching the moon and listening to the sounds of nature. He didn’t complain about his wound, however, I had caught him cringing a few times. Luckily, I saw no signs of infection.

  “You’ve read every book?”

  “I spent a lot of time here growing up and since.” I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “With no TV, I needed something to entertain myself.” I secretly loved that we discussed the books we’d read. His mind amazed and challenged mine.

  “Have you considered writing something, a medical thriller perhaps?”

  I had toyed with the idea. “I don’t know if I could.”

  “Tell me a story, Mariah,” he demanded. “Let’s see if you have any talent.”

  It was annoying that he knew me so well. This was one of those times. “Do yo
u mean the story of how the notorious gang leader disappeared and started a new life?” I asked sweetly then finished with a closed-lip smile.

  “Only if he reunites with his lady.” He settled back and crossed his leg over his knee. “I’m listening, mami. Tell me how that is done.”

  Challenge accepted. “He would need cash and access to more, but I imagine that he has many accounts all over the world because he’s a survivor. He would need alternate identities and the papers that corresponded to those names.” I’d seen the stacks of banded bills in the infamous duffle. I assumed there were other tools stashed away in the bag.

  “All right, so your hero,” he flashed a devastatingly sexy grin, “has a new identity and money for a new life, but there are other difficulties…”

  “To get out of the country unnoticed, he would need to change his hair and develop a different way of moving, because there are surveillance cameras everywhere. He could tape his ankle so that his foot couldn’t flex. The resulting limp would require a cane or perhaps a wheelchair for long distances.” I pursed my lips as I thought about travel. “He would take a flight to Florida—Miami maybe—and then take a boat to one of the island ports. There, he could boat hop until he made it to Brazil. It would take time, but how do you track a guest on a private yacht?”

  “And once in Brazil?”

  “The plastic surgery capital of the world…” I used my fingers and made a scissor-like action along my hairline. I was enjoying this. “He would check into an exclusive clinic and have a make-over.”

  “A very extreme make-over.” He grinned, but he was paying attention. He narrowed his eyes when he was plotting and planning. I’d figured that out during our first chess match…which he’d won handily.

  “He’s a master criminal, and I’m sure there’s a list of doctors who will work for the right price,” I told him breezily, as if I knew about such things.

  “And then with his new look, how would he find his lady-love?”

  “They would reconnect over a dating app.” I was pleased with that answer. It had just popped into my head.

  “And what do you know of those things, Mariah?”