“Punishment is given for ill-gotten behaviors, not for reward. Rewards are treats,” she says, grabbing my hand and shaking it. My hand opens up with the treats as I feel the pony nuzzling and licking my palm; the sensation is remarkable. “Grooming and time with her owner.”
“The pony girl doesn’t necessarily crave the pain. The pony girl craves attention. Replace some words in your world with words from ours. You cannot buy one and not work with her because that’s a waste. You have to be willing to use them as a cart pony, riding pony, or show pony. Use not abuse, remember! They are ponies!”
While I am finding the whole psychological makeup of this fascinating, it occurs to me I can never be a pony boy. I mean I already knew, but confirmation is important.
“Is she cart trained?” I ask.
“Ainsley is exceptionally well trained.”
Watching Ainsley, I am mesmerized by her graceful and agile movements in her full body suit. “Can I talk to her as a girl?”
“Ainsley, Whoa! Out.”
Immediately, she shifts back onto her hooves in a relaxed position. Her body language changes to a more subtle, demure, feminine way as she casts a soft smile my direction. I grab a bucket in the corner, flip it over, and pop a seat.
She smiles and asks, “Are you okay now?”
“Ya, thank you,” I acknowledge.
“If you want her to resume, repeat the whole command and use the word in,” Manon interjects before closing the stall door.
“Hi there,” I say, holding out my hand.
“Greetings,” she says, plopping her hoof in my hand. “Sorry if I flustered you.”
“You didn’t, I just don’t know this—world,” I admit, slightly embarrassed.
“But you’re curious!”
“Terribly,” I agree with a nod. “It’s so different from what we do.”
“It takes a special person,” she mentions, “Not everyone allows themselves to sink fully into the headspace of the role.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Eighteen months,” she recalls as a hint of sadness comes across her eyes. “I spent a year training with my former Handler and have been on the market less than a month.”
“Who was your former Handler?”
“My Handler is a trainer out of Spain, Peter Sanchez. He cannot afford to purchase me from my owner in the states,” Ainsley replies, her voice light and sweet. “I started young at eighteen and went to La Academie for two years, Thread for a little over a year, and ended up here. My owner passed away during my training here, which is why I am for sale.”
My mind spirals and twists back. “Who was your Owner?”
“A—.”
There is no need for her to continue. I already know who owns her soul. “You were one of his specialists?”
She smiles agreeably.
“You know others?”
She blinks.
“You cannot talk here.”
She shakes her head.
“I’ll give you twenty grand for the night,” I offer up, wanting to talk to the girl, not the pony.
“Nah, you take me home for two weeks,” she counters surprisingly.
“One million, no waiting period, and I get you into a four-year stint at Juliet and help you with placement,” I ramble off rapidly.
“I will not be toyed with in my role play,” she warns cautiously.
“Your pony will be respected,” I assure, gripping her hoof. “I swear.”
“One point five,” she rebounds with a grin.
I cock a brow and pucker my lips, considering her proposition. “Are you intact?”
“In what regard?”
Blatantly, I ask, “Are you a virgin?”
“Yes.”
Leaning forward, I smile and ask, “Both ways?”
“Yes,” she says with a giggle.
“Can I seek confirmation?”
“Yes,” she says, “But the monthly medicals are on file.”
“One point nine, four years, no waiting. Juliet and placement assistance by me—Master Raniero.”
She smiles. “Deal.”
And this is how I buy a pony girl. I walk out of the stables and look at G-Man, who overhears the entire transaction. “You bought her…”
“Yes, I collect rare things.”
“When I am done…” he says, riding on my powered-up aura.
Turning fast, I face him directly. “When you are done, you call me and we talk. If you are serious about acquiring an offer from me, keep your ass off the line. I don’t play well with used toys.”
SAL
After spending a couple hours on the computer chatting with Dale, I pass out to dreams of a pretty pony prancing about the farm. A couple hours a call from Dale disturbs my hot nocturne of Ainsley carting me about the pasture.
“What do you want, Hoss?”
“We have a bit of a problem,” he grumbles anxiously.
“What do you mean?” I yawn sleepily.
“I mean I’ve been running scans all night trying to find something,” he informs fresh as summer rain.
“I am headed back tomorrow morning, Hoss,” I whine, wanting to go back to wonderland. I sit up in bed and glance at the clock 2:33 AM. “What’s up?”
Damn, I was sleeping so good.
“I went through the video footage. I don’t know what the fuck Nina is up to, but it cannot be good. She met with Gaby twice. Once a suitcase was handed off, and the next time a medical kit,” he says as I had already assumed most of what he is telling me. “I checked the Gray Market when it opened and your horse is on the hit list for a cool ten grand.”
Fuck. Ainsley.
“I’ll call you back!” I drop the phone and run smack dab into G, waiting outside my door. “I need Ainsley to my room, now.”
“Yes, Sir.”
We rush downstairs and run out to the stables where my prize pet lays sleeping in her hay. I waste zero time in picking her up and repeating the words—“Ainsley. Whoa. Out.”—as I carry her away in my arms.
Nina isn’t getting a chance to take her out.
To be honest, I didn’t figure her to be owned by Angelo Gennaro. I am not a fool though, if she stays here—she is a dead, maimed up pony. I cannot let that happen. I am not sure what I am going to do with her, but that isn’t important right now.
As soon as I get back to the room, I send G-Man to fetch Manon as I help Ainsley out of her garb. She is tall, almost my height, and thin—like model beautiful. I give her some running pants and a shirt, both of which swallow her small frame.
“I heard what happened, what is going on?” Manon says, rather panicked.
“Nina met with Gaby.”
“Yes,” she says, skirting the issue. “You know we have a long history with various families in the states, Salvatore.”
Popping my jaw, I eye her straight on. I don’t have time for her tip-toeing maneuvers. “I know a month ago my cousin was shot. Gaby gave a medical kit and briefcase to Nina. I need to know who all Nina has been seeing.”
“I will have to pull her file and send it over immediately,” Manon assures as I try and believe her story. I cannot imagine Karissa staying here for so many years with a corrupt Manon at the helm.
“Money is changing hands here on H2 grounds and not for pony play,” I charge, knowing I am right. “I suggest a tightening of security and quick.”
“Giles, send a security team to Nina’s stall and her residence,” Manon commands like a seasoned pro. “I want the entire place swept.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You think Nina was going to kill me?” Ainsley mutters in disbelief, shocked.
With a warm wave of my hand, I take Ainsely next to me, wrapping my arm around her body. “I think anything is possible.”
Ugh. Don’t get me started.
Manon asks, “You will be keeping her here tonight?”
“I am keeping her period. She isn’t going anywhere except back to Texas with m
e. I will wire funds in the morning, the full amount,” I assert, negotiating the closing moves. “I expect to be listed as buyer unknown.”
“Of course, Salvatore,” Manon reassures, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. There will be no record here at H2.”
My hand caresses over Ainsley, her head on my shoulder, and I close my eyes as I touch my cross and simply reply, “The funds will be listed from HR Holdings, Inc.”
Manon nods and departs. I sit on the bed and light a smoke, stressed out beyond belief.
Ainsley borderlines on what we ‘round my parts call crashing. Complete crash and burn, so much worse than even a subdrop. Utterly hysterical. Slobber flows out of her mouth as she puts all the pieces together. “You really think…Nina was going to…kill me?”
I am trained for this.
But fuck if it ain’t hard some days.
“I think Nina is working for someone. I don’t know who. I thought it was strange when she left Juliet after one semester and got accepted into H2. She doesn’t have the creds,” I say, repeating my training record over and over. Really, all I want to do is go fuck Nina up good. But I won’t do that because I am trained for this.
“You do,” she mentions casually.
I laugh at her notions. “To come here and be a pony boy?”
“Ya, I do. And so do you, but Nina Kasai didn’t,” she recounts. “Someone funded her in and used H2 as a trading hub for funds and intel. It’s a convenient cover.”
“It happens often,” I say, struck by her ability to assess the situation. “You’ve seen it…”
“Of course, I have,” she agrees, rubbing her face. “I have been to three schools all over the world and they are all the same—money, power, and control. Everyone is vying for the top dog seat. If you hadn’t come…”
“If I hadn’t come, I don’t know what would have happened. I knew when you said A—. You were talking about Angelo Gennaro. A bunch of hooligans called La Morte are trying to dismantle everything he did under the guise of their partnership.”
Biting her lip, she asks, “Who is running La Morte?”
“When I find that out, I will know who tried to kill my cousin Maria and why they had a hit on you,” I inform, not withholding intel from the poor girl who thinks she barely missed death. She might be right. It’s possible. “How many other specs did Gennaro keep?”
“Just Iris and I. I never knew of anyone else,” she whispers slow as I hand her a bottle of water. “There was his Mistress…I assume you know that is Iris’ mother, Lydia Kettles.”
I nod. I know all too well.
A knock at the door interrupts our conversation. G-Man flurries in speaking entirely too fast.
“They found everything you said they would. Nina had syringes, knives, dildoes, plugs, and other assorted items in the med kit. The briefcase is missing. She is being held now at the detention cell,” G-Man reports, “And Sal, they also found a black body bag in her room.”
“Tell Manon to call Madeline Grace. She’ll know what to do with her,” I snarl, knowing Nina’s time has come. “She’s in Germany and can be here by tomorrow for pickup.”
“Yes, S—al!”
Ainsley smiles as a quiet giggle erupts from her mouth. “Are things always this exciting with you?”
“Not all the time,” I say, lighting another smoke.
She whimpers, “What will happen to Nina?”
“You don’t really want to know that, do you?”
“Probably not,” she says.
“Let’s just say she won’t need a body bag,” I say, stripping off my tank top and leering out into the dark pasture. “You do not go against a Raniero—even the renegade son.”
“And your sister?”
“She is already being tagged and watched. We will pick her up and interview her. My best guess is my Dear Daddy gave Gaby money to give to Nina to give to someone else for the hit on Maria. You were nothing but a cheap side dish.”
Pacing about the room, I crack open the whiskey and chain-smoke. There is no more hope for sleep tonight. I am watchdog, the pit-bull on crack. I have to get this girl home. I already know where I am stashing this one—Anna’s basement dungeon.
“How long have you really worked with Gennaro?”
“My mother cleaned his house,” she says readily, trusting way too easily. No telling who put what underneath that pretty full mane. “We lived on his property.”
“Yeah, he’s likely got intel programmed in you, too. You cannot mess with these guys, they are smart,” I say from across the room, taking a seat on the desk.
“So are you,” she says, blinking at me. “So, that is why they wanted me eliminated—for something I don’t even know?”
“Bingo.”
“What happens when you take me home?” she asks distraught like all of this is in vain. “Are you really going to use my abilities?”
“Absolutely,” I vow, rubbing my Hope tattoo on my left hand. “I never imagined doing anything else.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ricochet & Rust
SAL
DESPITE HOW I REALLY want to get the hell out of dodge, my private charter flight is delayed. I know why. Madeline Grace is en route. I decided late last night or early this morning at 6 AM, taking a commercial flight is out of the question.
I may have gotten here in first class, but I will be returning to the states with Madeline, Ainsley, and the animal Nina Kasai has become. She will be stowed in the back area and dead bolted to her chair. She gets reckless or ruthless, I will do the deed.
I am trained for this.
I set up a temporary command center in my room, uploading documents to the Sibyl system. Dale already has shit going on in his life, and I cannot believe he is taking the time away to help me with this. I beg him not to; he doesn’t listen.
“You need me, Kid. This is big.”
“I owe you, Hoss,” I speedily type my response.
Ainsley has been sleeping since right after our conversation. I gave her a low dose sedative to calm her the fuck down. At least one of us is dreaming.
G-Man maintains a constant vigil in my room, slumping by the door and leaning against the wall. He keeps trying to doze off. Poor kid is exhausted. I hate leaving him here, but I cannot really take him either. Too much is going on right now.
A butterfly stashed in the mountains.
An angel stashed in my house.
A pony girl stashed in a dungeon built for a Queen.
All in a day’s work. I stretch, yawn, and notice a message pop up from none other than my sweet Angel. “Can you face?”
I gaze at Ainsley and the now snoring G-Man. I hit the button and wait as her smile brightens up my entire day. She says, “Did you get her?”
“You knew?” I ask, lighting another smoke.
“I knew she was there. I didn’t know about the hit,” she says. “I have been under Dale Archer’s eyeballs since he rescued me from the M and M twins.”
With my elbows on the desk, I lean forward and gaze at the camera. “What are you talking about, doll face?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Um, no,” I respond, concerned. “Should he have?”
“Jack brought in Mack, and Mitch surfaced up out of nowhere,” she whispers low, holding back tears. Her fear is so real, I can see the pain in her face, and I hate that I am halfway across the world. I make a silent vow to not leave her again. “I distracted them until Dale got back. He has the whole session on his phone.”
“I am going to fucking kill them,” I threaten with a low rumble, keeping my temper in check so as to not wake up my new friends. “I like four letter words. Love. Fuck. Kill.”
“Sal, you need to know…” she hesitates, biting her fingers and looking so naive. “Mack was good to me. He took a blow for me.”
Knowing how groomed my girl is, I inquire, “What did you do, my little conniving angel?”
“I let Mack eat me out while Mitch fucked his ass
until D got here,” she says without any trace of remorse as a sense of proudness fills my veins.
“That’s brilliant!” I commend, overjoyed that she wrangled her way out of a mess. “Good girl.”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me—for anything.”
“Baby, I am not mad,” I console, raising my hand up in front of the camera. “I need you to keep playing tight. It’s raining shit.”
“How hard?” she asks, holding up her fingertips. I see my ring on her finger. This girl is still mine.
“Pretty damn hard, Angel.” I admit the truth because she needs to know.
Licking her lips, Iris lets the tears trickle quietly over her cheeks. She is so fucking gorgeous when she cries. “Are we gonna get out of this?”
“Ya, baby,” I assure. Honestly, I don’t know, but I continue the lie, “We are gonna get out of this.”
Thinking about what all she has been through, I issue an easy command, “I need you to stay with D until I get home.”
“He’s taking me to the cabin tonight,” she says, sniffling.
“I will be home soon, babe,” I grumble so angry with myself for leaving in the first place. “I promise you.”
Her sapphires dance with the sparkles of her cries. “Sal?”
“Ya, Angel?”
“Let me see you,” she requests with a hush.
“Hold on, a sec,” I say, stubbing out my smoke, shutting my machine, and grabbing my phone. I walk stealthy through the room and close the bathroom door.
She mumbles, “Are we alone now?”
“Ya, show me,” I prod, my cock twitching in anticipation. Running my hand through my hair, I give her a deviant smirk as she shows everything.
“Fuck ya. That is mine,” I assert with an arrogant cocky tone.
“Kinky ass bastard,” she mutters, touching her skin sensually for me.
Now, I am the one biting my lip and glaring at my adoring Angel. “Yours.”
“Show me your cock, please Master…”
Setting the phone down, I drop my jeans, spit on my hand, and bring my dick up to full throttle fast. I grin mischievously at the phone and move it over my body, showing her my abs and zooming in on my cock. My hand wraps around the shaft and strokes it teasingly—up and over, around the head and back down the thick base.
Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1) Page 35
