by Fox, Logan
So he can fuck you.
The thought poured a complex cocktail of emotions into her mind. The way it had felt when he’d been staring at her, so intent on watching the brink of her climax that nothing else in the world existed except her. How he’d clung to her mind ever since that night at her birthday. When she’d touched his rock-hard dick and known he’d wanted her just as badly. That first, bruising-rough kiss she could hardly remember but had recovered from the dregs of the drug-induced sleep she’d been in after.
The young man at the reception desk straightened when she approached.
“Hi, uh…” She folded her hands over each other, and drew a deep breath. If she couldn’t even get them checked in to a hotel, how on earth was she going to set up a deal with Benecio? “A room please. With a sea view.”
“I have a deluxe suite with ocean views.” The clerk glanced up at her. “But we don’t rent by the hour.”
She blinked. “For the day is fine.” Her brain scrambled as the man frowned at her. “We need to leave early in the morning though.”
Seeming satisfied, the man worked on his computer. “That’ll be four-fifty. Your driver’s license and credit card please.”
Cora counted out five bills and handed them to the clerk. “I don’t have any of those.”
“I need to see some identification, ma’am.”
She hesitated, glancing about the empty foyer. Either this wasn’t the hotel’s busy season, or they just didn’t have that much patronage. She dug in her pocket and drew out the entire wad of notes. “Then I’ll have to go somewhere else.” She held out her hand.
The man glanced at the bundle of cash so quickly, she might have imagined it. But then he gave his lips a quick swipe and cast a slow scan over the empty foyer as if checking for hidden cameras. “I could always come and collect your ID later. But we require an additional five hundred deposit for cash customers.”
She counted out another five bills and added a sixth. “Thank you.”
He shoved the extra bill in his pocket and typed into the computer again. “Your name?”
“Heather Smith,” she said, plucking the first name she could think of.
“And do you have a contact number—”
“I’m afraid not.”
The man paused as if considering if the hundred dollar bribe was sufficient for the shit he was going to get into for booking her in.
“Is that a problem?” she prompted.
“No,” he said, giving his head a decisive shake. “I can put you in room 908.” He took the key and handed it to her as Kane came around the corner.
“You come right, sweetheart?” Kane asked, voice loud enough that if there had been anyone in the foyer, they’d have turned to look.
“Yup,” Cora said, snagging the key from the clerk’s hand before he second guessed himself. “908.”
Kane put a hand on the small of her back as he ushered her through the foyer to the elevator. They climbed in, Cora giving the clerk a cheery little wave before the doors closed.
She slumped, letting out a sigh.
“Tough nut to crack?” Kane asked.
“I had to bribe him.”
“Usually how it works.” He turned to her, narrowed his eyes, and said, “You got this, right?”
She didn’t. No fucking way. But she gave him a small nod and forced herself to look away.
The elevator let them out on the ninth floor a few seconds later. The interior of the hotel was as modern and luxurious as the exterior. But — no doubt by design — every window faced toward the ocean. The poverty pressed against the hotel’s walls wasn’t visible from any window.
Maybe that made the guests feel safer.
She doubted it was to make the hotel owners feel less like pricks.
Kane opened their room door. Cora wanted to look around, but her eyes stuck on the terrace and the magnificent view of the churning ocean. She went to the balcony’s glass doors and pushed them open, inhaling a heady hit of the sea breeze.
“Would have been nice if the weather hadn’t been so shitty,” Kane said.
He was right behind her.
The past few hours came crashing on her like an avalanche. This man — a man she’d had erotic dreams over for the past few weeks and who’d just given one of the best orgasms she’d had in weeks — stood less than an inch away from her.
She was in the middle of Tijuana, Mexico.
And she was about to meet up with one of the largest heroin producers in Guerrero.
Absently, she laid a hand on her belly as she gazed out over the uneasy ocean. That was what her mind felt like right then — gray and tumultuous and unfathomably deep. Too deep for her to grasp a thought without drowning.
She inhaled a heavy breath and turned to Kane.
He’d been staring at her, not the ocean.
Cora took a step back, not expecting the inquisitive sparkle in his eyes, and stumbled at the difference in ground level from the room to the terrace. Kane caught her arm, hauled her back inside, and closed the door behind her.
“You’re letting in the rain.”
“I like rain,” she said, but the response was as automated as the telephonic voice that tolled out the time when you called The Talking Clock.
“You got to get out of your head, Cora.” Kane’s hazel eyes dragged down her body. “He can’t see you like this.”
Who? Who couldn’t—?
Benecio. Of course. Why had she thought of Finn?
Because they still didn’t know she was safe. Where she was. If she was ever coming back.
She made to move past Kane, catching sight of a telephone against the wall. But he caught her arm again and turned her around.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to call them,” she said.
His eyes flinched. “Now?”
“I need to let them know I’m safe.”
“Will that make you feel better?”
Her mouth worked. “It will make them feel better.”
“No. I forbid it.”
She blinked at him, let out a short laugh, and then felt her face melting into shock. “You what?”
“I won’t let you phone them.” He took a slow step toward her. “We’re going to order in. Have something to eat. Then we’re meeting Benecio in the dining room downstairs. If you strike a deal with him… then, and only then, will I allow you to phone your boys.”
Allow her?
Heat suffused her cheeks, intensifying when Kane gave her a crooked smile.
She tore her arm free, spun around, and headed for the telephone. “I don’t know who you think you are,” she said, her voice strangled by a too-tight throat, “but if you think for one fucking second you can tell me what to do—”
A hand closed over the back of her neck. She gasped, barely getting her hands out in time before Kane shoved her against the wall beside the telephone.
“I’m the guy who’s saving your ass,” Kane said. “See, that way, I don’t risk getting burned for the likes of you.”
His voice sounded different. Deeper, rougher. A tiny tendril of fear burrowed itself into Cora’s stomach. She tried kicking out behind her, but Kane held her at the end of a stiff arm — too far away to reach.
She scratched her nails over his hand, his wrist, but he didn’t even flinch.
“Let go!” she yelled, flinging out an arm. She knocked the receiver from its hook, sending the wireless telephone thumping to the floor.
“I’d prefer not to.”
Kane swung her around, herded her to the room’s king-sized bed, and tossed her onto the coverlet like he was discarding his jacket after a long day at the office.
She tumbled over once, scrambled up, and instinctively made a grab for her Taurus.
But wasn’t packing, was she? Ronan’s lackey, Owen, had disarmed her before she’d been brought her clothes.
“If you don’t make this deal,” Kane said in that stranger’s voice of his, “Then my ass is o
n the line. Comprehende?”
She sneered at him, easing off the bed as if any sudden moves might startle him. But he just stood there, head to one side as he studied her with an uneven smile.
What the hell was wrong with her? How the fuck could she have been pining for this man? He was dangerous and volatile. And she’d agreed to go over the border with him. She’d isolated herself here, in this hotel room, with him.
Kane’s eyes moved down her body, sticking halfway. She plucked her hand away the instant she realized she had laid it over her belly again.
His eyes snapped back to hers. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No,” she barked out.
Kane ambled closer. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. How about we have a drink, relax a little?”
She circled around him, keeping the same distance between them. “I’ve got a better suggestion. You stay here, and I’ll get a different room. Fuck, I’ll just wait in the dining room until Benecio gets here.”
“How will that look?” Kane asked with a small shrug. “La Sombra waiting on someone else? Make him wait.”
“Well I’m not staying here.” Especially when she could still feel his fingers gripping the back of her neck, a phantom touch that pulsed in time with her thumping heart.
“It’s cute that you think you have a choice.”
Anger bubbled up inside her again. What the hell was it with every man she met thinking she answered to him?
Then again… she hadn’t been brave today. Chickening out during the flight. Acting like a raving lunatic last night.
Did she have anyone else but herself to blame?
She straightened her shoulders. Picked up her chin. And turned her glare into a dispassionate stare.
“I always have a choice. I could have chosen to leave you there.”
Kane’s smile hitched up on one side. “You didn’t come for me, sweetheart. You came for Bailey.”
Her lips moved, but she didn’t deny the truth of his statement.
“But you did come, even in your state. Despite not knowing the first thing about Ronan, or his operation. Why?”
In her state? She forced her hand to stay by her side instead of stroking her belly like it wanted to.
Did he know?
“I love him. I would do anything for him.”
Kane’s eyebrows twitched at that. “And what about the two you left behind? Do you love them?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
“But not as much as Bailey?”
“What?” She frowned hard at him, taking a step closer as if to give her words more strength. “Of course I do.”
Kane gave shrug. “What a strange little world you live in.”
He stepped closer until they were almost touching, but this time she stood her ground. She wouldn’t let another man bully her.
Kane gripped the lapel of his jacket she still wore and slipped a hand inside. Brushing his palm over her breast — whether intentionally or not was impossible to tell, he rummaged in one of the pockets and pulled out a lighter. A joint came out of his jeans pocket, and he lit it without moving so much as an inch away from her. The sweet stench enveloped her, but she still didn’t step back.
“What am I going to do with you, Cora?” Kane mumbled, his words emerging between puffs of pale smoke. “What am I going to do with you?”
* * *
Cora stared at Kane, her body aching as she considered his words.
“When I make you angry,” Kane said, running the side of his hand down her face, “you become too emotional.”
Her brows drew together, her gaze locking with his as he studied her. She wanted to say something, but her mouth had gone dry.
“But if you’re not angry, then you’re scared.”
“I’m not—”
But he cut her off again. “Help me out here. How are we going to get you ready for this fight?”
“What fight?” Cora scowled up at Kane. “I’m here to meet a dealer, that’s it. I’ve done it before.”
“I can tell. You’re oozing confidence from every pore,” Kane said dryly, finishing the joint. He stepped away from her, opening the balcony doors and tossing the roach into the wind.
Fuck, he was right. Her fingertips prickled with nerves. Was it because she’d never met this guy? Or was it the pressure of Bailey’s life on her conscience if she didn’t make this deal?
Kane’s too, from the sounds of it.
Hers and Baby Girl’s, as if she could forget.
“Should have left you some of the weed,” Kane said to himself. “But I’m not sure how weed would affect a baby.”
Ice flowed over her skin like she’d stepped under a waterfall. Her throat moved as she forced a swallow.
“You make it so fucking obvious…” Kane spun around, giving her a harsh once-over. “He’s going to know the moment you shake hands.”
Cora gritted her teeth. “How?” she whispered. “How am I supposed to hide it?”
“You stop bringing attention to it. Benecio’s not about to shoot you in the middle of a hotel dining room. He’s here to make a deal, just like you are. But you gotta play it cool.”
Easy for him to say. Even when Will had dragged him in from wherever they’d been keeping him in Ronan’s mansion, he’d been as calm as a tax collector.
She tipped her head back, doing her best to smooth her expression.
Kane laughed. “Are you trying to look calm?”
“Is it working?”
He laughed again and grabbed a hold of his jacket. Sliding it off her shoulders, he tossed it onto the bed.
Like he’d tossed her moments ago.
Her cheeks warmed — his phantom touch on the back of her neck coming back tenfold… and just when it had finally faded.
“Relax your shoulders,” he said.
She dropped her shoulders, rolled them, and tried to relax.
“Stop clenching your teeth.”
Which she hadn’t even realized that’s what she’d been doing until he told her to stop.
“And pick an eye.”
“What?” she said through a blustery, incredulous laugh.
His smile cropped up out of nowhere again. “Pick one of my eyes to look at. Don’t keep going from one to the other. It makes you look nervous.”
“I was—was I—?” But then she realized she was doing it and found it impossible to stop.
Kane lifted a finger and held it under his left eye.
So she stared at it. Blinked. Adjusted her focus.
“Perfect. See, now you don’t look like a crazy person anymore.”
“I didn’t even know I did that.”
“You do. And it gets worse when you’re riled up.”
She should have looked away by now. After all, he’d made his point. But she couldn’t.
“Keep your hands busy,” he said, touching both her wrists. “So this doesn’t keep happening.” He laid her hands on her belly, like she’d been doing earlier.
His hands were warm over hers, and so large. She gave a nod, tried to step back, and failed. She was glued to the spot.
“See?” he cocked his head to the side. “You’re doing a million times better.”
“I’d feel better if I could call them. Let them know I’m okay.”
His smile inched up. “No. Calling them is your reward. You only get it when you’ve done a good job.”
He was trying to rile her up again, wasn’t he? Well, it wasn’t going to work. She was on to him now.
“Fine.” She turned away, flicking a hand toward the phone where it lay on the carpet. “Then I guess you’ll have to order room service.”
25
Lady Whore
Bailey climbed wearily into his room’s en suite shower, turned on the cold water, and attempted to drench sleep from his mind.
Sleep.
What a joke.
If he’d slept more than an hour, he’d convert.
No — he’d stared at the ceiling for longer than he could remember, wondering where the hell Cora was. If Ronan had contacted her yet, forced her to come and rescue him.
Oh, he’d proven himself all right.
Proven what a fucking idiot he was.
He dried himself, tied the towel around his waist, and returned to the bedroom. He lay back on the bed, trying to gather enough motivation to put his clothes on.
Cora was better off without him. At least she’d still have Finn and Lars, and they at least had—
The door to his room opened, and Shayla stepped inside. If not exactly bright eyed and bushy tailed, she at least looked as if she’d gotten sleep. Her makeup was fresh, her hair washed and styled. Yesterday’s clothes were rumpled, which was to be expected. He’d been brought a fresh pair of pants and a shirt. Fuck knew who it had belonged to, but he avoided it like the plague. He’d wear his own threads until they were too stiff to put on.
Shayla’s eyes lingered over him as she stepped deeper into the room.
“What do you want?” he grated, running his hands through his hair as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“I’m sorry, Bailey.”
“No, you’re not,” he said through a snort as he pushed past her to fetch his clothes from the back of the chair. He didn’t bother leaving the room to dress — she’d seen his junk before anyway. “You’re so fucking pleased with yourself, I can smell it on you.”
“I didn’t… look, this will all be over before you know it, okay?” Shayla’s voice came closer, but she stopped again a few feet away.
“Yeah, Shayla,” Bailey mused, spinning around so fast he made her jump. “’Cos Ronan King’s such a stand-up guy that he’ll let us all leave when this is done.” He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “No harm, no foul, right?”
“Bailey—”
“Get out,” he snapped, stabbing a finger at the door.
“Bailey, please, just let me—”
“You’ve done enough!” he roared.
An instant later, he had Shayla pinned to the wall beside the door, a hand around her throat and the other against her belly. Her brown eyes went wide, lips parting as if she was planning to scream, and then sealing as if she’d decided not to.