by Jane Henry
The cuffs come next and my wrists swing free. I reach for him, but he pushes my hands away, bending to lift me in his arms, so close to his chest I’m drowning in his scent. He lays me on the bed, spreads my legs, then drops to the floor. I’m still plugged, now aching with need and throbbing with the pain of the brief, brutal session, when he buries his face between my legs.
One, two, three strokes of his tongue, and I spasm with pleasure. He probes my channel with the very tip, while working my clit with his thumb, and at the third stroke, I fly into ecstasy. I come so hard against his face I whimper and shake, my body tense with contracting muscles chasing utter ecstasy. And just when I’m coming down from the first earth-shattering orgasm, so intense I’ve lost my voice with screaming, a second builds on the first. Sweeter. Harder. Impossibly more intense.
“Oh, God, Tomas,” I groan, as a second orgasm wracks my body. I’m still wrapped in ecstasy when he pulls his cock out and lines himself up at my core. I grasp his shoulders, needing to anchor myself, just before he impales me with his full, hard cock.
I swear and writhe and hold onto him as he slams into me before pulling his hard cock all the way out. All the way out, then slamming into me again, over and over. “Tomas,” I moan. “I’m sorry.”
He thrusts in me one more time, bringing his mouth to my ear. “My love, I am, too.”
I soar into climax when he does. We’re gripping each other like we’re the only two survivors in a world of destruction, desperate and aching for oneness.
He’s never called me love before. Not once. And he sure as hell has never apologized.
He lowers his body, his forehead touching mine.
“I needed that,” I tell him. “God, Tomas. I may regret saying this later, but I need that intensity sometimes. I don’t even know I do until you deliver, but I can’t enjoy sweet sex like that. Am I crazy?”
His forehead still on mine, he breathes in, like he’s inhaling my very scent and essence.
“No more crazy than I am,” he says. “I was pissed and needed to regain control. So I went to you.”
“I know.”
He lifts his forehead off mine and looks into my eyes. “Do you, love?”
“Yes. I could sense it, that you needed to control me. Are you ready to tell me what happened?”
His eyes cloud over again, and for a brief moment I regret asking him. I like the sincere conversations with him, when we’re just two lovers, and neither of us shields ourselves from the other in an effort to self-protect. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
He pulls out of me and we’re messy and sticky. I’m aching, throbbing from what he just did, but blissfully satisfied.
“Bath,” he whispers. He’s stripped to his boxers when he holds a finger up to me. “Stay here until I call you.”
He walks to the bathroom, then seconds later I hear the sound of a bath being drawn. Right now, I couldn’t disobey him if I wanted to. When he strips me down like that, fucking me and spanking me and dominating every inch of my body, I surrender fully. Eventually we’ll play the game again—him needing to control me and me fighting until he breaks me down in surrender. But for now, I’m his little detka.
“Come, Caroline.”
I walk to him, every step making my body ache. My ass throbs, my breasts tingle. But God, that bath sounds good.
I take his hand and let him help me into the tub. The warm, fragrant water envelopes me, the scent of vanilla calming me. To my surprise, he follows, sitting at one end of the tub and drawing me onto his lap.
He washes my hair and lathers me up but doesn’t say a thing. I don’t push him. He’ll tell me when the time is right.
When my body’s clean and my hair wrung out, he turns me to look at him.
“I’ve had a man on Andros since I married you,” he says. “Every fucking day. We were tailing him, with the intent of acting when the time was right. We were ready to strike. Ready to punish him for what he did to you.” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “But as of this morning, he’s gone.”
Even though I’m fully submerged in warm water, I shiver.
“He’s gone?”
If he’s gone, he could be literally anywhere.
“We’ll find him,” Tomas says.
A loud knock sounds at the door. “I swear to God, if that’s Nicolai again…” but his voice trails off when the knock becomes more insistent.
“I’ll be right there!” he shouts. He helps me out of the tub and towels me off, but I can tell he’s doing this quickly. He wants to know who’s at the door. Still draped in a towel, he grabs a gun from the bedside table and heads to the door. “Do not move, Caroline.”
I obey. I still couldn’t disobey if I wanted to. I’m still spinning in my head about everything that he said. If Andros is missing… and I know he wanted me for himself… where has he gone to?
Where the hell has he gone?
Tomas opens the door. “What is it?”
“Ilya, sir. He’s been taken.”
Chapter 19
Tomas
I hate this. I fucking hate this. I take Caroline with me to the meeting, because I don’t trust even my most dedicated men to protect her now.
My men eye Caroline when she sits beside me. Though she’s changed, her hair is a little wild, her cheeks flushed. Women rarely attend our meetings. But in our line of work, you learn to trust your instincts, and my instincts are telling me that something’s foul here.
“Ilya’s missing,” I tell them. “What do we know?”
“Could it have anything to do with the arms trade with the Brazilian cartel, sir?” Yakov speaks up from the back. “They’ve been less than honest in our dealings with them, and it seems their fearless leader isn’t as fearless as we thought.”
I shake my head. “No. He ran like a pussy when he knew I found him out. I confronted him myself yesterday.”
That confrontation involved a beat-down, a loss of teeth, and a bloody confession he wrote out in his own hand, but I’m pretty confident we won’t be dealing with his bullshit again. “It wasn’t him. I suspect San Diego.” Caroline sits up straighter.
“On what grounds?” Yakov asks, not challenging me, but suddenly hyper alert. He knows my feelings for Caroline run deep, and it’s his job to be sure my allegiance to her doesn’t cloud my judgment. But he’s also learned to trust my instincts.
Still, how can I tell him I have no grounds? That literally the only evidence I have is that Andros has eluded the detail I had on him, and no one knows where he is?
But Lev speaks up from the back.
“Not five minutes ago, we found footage showing how Ilya was taken.”
My skin feels cold and prickly, while at the same time my stomach clenches with anger. I hate that someone put a hand on one of my men. They will answer to me for this.
I pull out my phone and dial the head of security.
Caroline’s eyes meet mine, wide but trusting, and it brings solace to me. I swallow hard. I love this woman. She’s feisty as fuck and we’ve only just begun, but her quiet acceptance and trust empower me.
“Sir?”
“We’re in lock down,” I tell him. “Shut and lock the gates and windows and call the guards.”
Caroline swallows hard and reaches for my hand when metal bars descend on the windows, and the snapping of locks fills the room. Outside the window from where we sit, the massive iron gates that lead to our estate slowly pull shut. Though everyone stirs, all await my command in silence.
“We have footage?” I ask Lev.
“Yes, sir, and we’re in the process of retrieving it now.”
“Show us.”
Lev hits a button on a remote, and three wide screen TVs spring to life. The footage is right outside our gate. It’s dark out, and the time stamp shows it was late last night. Ilya stands guard at the gate. A hooded man approaches, and Ilya pulls his gun. The anticipation and silence are deafening. It’s hard to get a profile on someone wearing a
hood.
I’m on my feet, Yakov to my left, Lev in front of me, and Nicolai on my right.
“Christ,” Nicolai mutters. “Shit.”
The hooded man draws a weapon. Ilya attacks. He doesn’t last long, though, before his assailant has him cuffed and immobilized. Christ, I have to train that boy better. I will find him, kick his ass for not taking down his assailant, and teach him better self-defense. Four more men surround Ilya.
In the skirmish, the hooded man’s hood falls to the side.
I recognize him.
“I know that man,” I say. “Zoom in.”
Lev obeys.
“I know him, too,” Caroline whispers.
“He’s the one that tried to touch my wife in Atlanta,” I say.
Nicolai nods. “I was there. It is indeed the same man.”
“Where did they take Ilya?”
Lev shakes his head. “No idea. They left by the front gates, and our footages soon cuts off.”
“Why would they want him?” I ask.
“They want him to get to me,” Caroline says. “I told you Andros wouldn’t let me go. He’s coming for me. He will use Ilya to get to me.”
I pace the room. No one speaks.
She’s right. She’s fucking right.
My men are at risk, and so is Caroline.
I turn to Nicolai. I can’t leave this room, as I have an army awaiting my commands.
We go through footage but find literally nothing else that could lead us to Ilya’s abduction. I’m leery, though. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is only a warning. The prologue, if you will.
I stand and take Caroline by the hand. “Look through all our footage until you find something. You will find him,” I say to my men. I turn to Lev. “Get Aren on the phone. And no one fucking leaves here without permission.”
They scatter, and Lev pulls up Aren’s information on his phone. He dials, and on the third ring, Aren picks up.
“Hello?”
“It’s Tomas,” I tell him. “Your brother-in-law. It seems we have a bit of a situation.”
“Oh, there’s no situation,” he says tightly. “You got my sister, now you get off my ass. I don’t owe you a fucking thing.”
My grip tightens on the phone and I take a deep, steadying breath. “I think you’re sadly mistaken. Your men have come after mine.”
“They haven’t. Christ, are you that bored with my bitch of a sister that you need to make up stories?”
Caroline’s wide eyes meet mine. She heard him through the speaker.
I turn away from her, reigning in the fury that pounds at my chest like wild stallions. “I told you to speak of her with respect,” I warn him.
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
The fucking prick.
“Find Andros,” I tell him. “One of my men was abducted last night, and our footage shows at least one of your men was here.”
Aren doesn’t respond at first, then after a moment, he mutters, “Impossible.”
“Not impossible. I have evidence.” What he doesn’t know is that we were fully prepared to go to war with his brotherhood. He’s merely given us an excuse. “You have until tomorrow morning to find Andros and report back to me, or I’m coming to find you.”
I hang up the phone. Caroline closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder.
“Is it wrong that a part of me hopes he gives you reason to hurt him?”
The question actually makes me smile. “No, sweetheart. Is it wrong that I’m not actually giving him a chance? Your brother has already earned what he has coming to him, whether he calls me back or not.”
She nods quietly, then closes her eyes and grips my arm tighter.
“He’s here, Tomas,” she whispers, her voice shaky and scared. The certainty in her voice chills the blood in my veins.
“Who, sweetheart?”
I hate hearing the terror in her voice. I will do whatever it takes to put her fears to rest, so she knows she need never fear any of them again. “Andros. I know he’s here. I don’t want to tell you how I know.”
“Tell me.”
“I… it’s like a sixth sense,” she says. “Whenever he was coming after me, I knew it before he came, and I feel it now. I haven’t felt this since I came here.”
I fucking hate that for her. Hate it.
I pull her so hard to my chest she gasps, wrapping my arms tightly around her. “He isn’t going to find you, Caroline. Not now. Not ever.” I’m not letting her out of my sight.
But I’m not going to run. I won’t hide. He can take me head on if he wishes because that’s the only fucking way he’ll get me.
I pace the room with her, the sky darkening out the window. I gave Aren until tomorrow morning to find Andros, but I’m torn between wanting to keep her safe and wanting to kill the bastards who dared come here.
“Get away from the window,” I tell her. I don’t trust that the men after her won’t scale the fucking sides of our compound. If I were the one after her, I’d stop at nothing.
But she’s staring at her phone and doesn’t respond.
“Caroline?”
The eyes that meet mine are wide with hurt and betrayal.
“Tomas,” she whispers. “How could you?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. “How could I what?”
But she backs away from me toward the window.
“Get away from there.”
She stands as if frozen, staring at me then back to her phone.
“I thought our vows meant something to you,” she says. “I can’t believe I’ve been such a fool.” Her eyes fill with tears. I look to the phone in her hand. What is she looking at?
“Give me the fucking phone.” I’m walking toward her, but she’s backing further away.
“I found your shirt,” she whispers. I shake my head, still confused. What the hell is she talking about?
“The one with the lipstick on it,” she whispers, her lips quivering. “I thought it was something else. Blood, maybe, but my gut said otherwise. I couldn’t imagine you’d be with another woman.”
Christ.
“It isn’t what you think it is,” I tell her.
“Isn’t that what they always say?” She’s crying freely now, tears running down her cheeks.
“I can explain—”
“Also, what they always say.” She shakes her head and closes her eyes, her back pressed up against the large window. “I knew you couldn’t love me. I knew you never would.”
My pulse races, and I want to shake her. “If you don’t get the hell over here—”
She races past me and shoves me out of the way. I reach for her arm, but she slips out of my grip. Yanking open the door before I reach her, she bolts, her phone falling to the ground.
“Get her!” I bellow at the men standing by the door, who stare at her in bewilderment a second before they spring into action. But she’s too fast, too smart for them. She yanks an end table over behind her, sending a vase with flowers and water toppling over and blocking their exit.
“Caroline!” She can’t run, not now, not when there are predators who want to take her from me. Not when I fucking need her. I whip out my phone and call the guards at the gate while I chase after her, stepping through the cracked glass and leaping over the upturned table. But she’s thinner and quicker than I am, and I can’t get to her.
“Caroline, stop!”
Why is she running from me? And where will she go?
She opens the door and bounds down the steps away from me, and when I reach the door, I yank it open and look for her.
Fuck.
She’s gone. That quickly, she’s gone. Panic sweeps across my chest as I look wildly from left to right. Was someone waiting to ambush her? Where the hell is she? How could she have left so quickly?
My pulse races as I scream her name. “Caroline!”
When I get my hands on her, she’s in so much goddamn trouble for running from me. But it’s a u
seless, crazed thought. Christ, I need her safe, now.
Where is she? Where the fuck is she?
My men stand at attention, having followed me out. They’re waiting for orders.
But for the first time since I’ve held this position, I have no idea what orders to give.
Chapter 20
Caroline
I just need to get away. I need space to think, to breathe, to be away from my husband.
My traitorous, cheating asshole of a husband.
I knew our marriage was just a fabrication. I know it didn’t hold the weight of love or devotion or anything like that, but as I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve fooled myself. Tricked myself into thinking that I actually mattered to him, that I wasn’t just the little fuck toy I feared I was.
But now…
I don’t know who sent me the pictures. It could be anyone.
But I’ll never erase them from my mind. Tomas, with his lips wrapped around some whore’s. Her knee tucked up to his side, her hands wrapped round his neck, and she’s kissing him with passion I could only dream of. And she’s gorgeous. So beautiful.
And he’s wearing the shirt I saw in the laundry basket from the night he supposedly went to help Ilya.
I hardly see where I’m going, but I don’t need to. I know this path to the gazebo like the back of my hand. I don’t want him to touch me or to speak to me. I need some time alone.
How could he?
I sit at the little table and draw my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. I let the tears fall freely.
It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all is a lie.
Such a lie.
I never would have hurt this badly if I’d never loved him. How could I have let my guard down? I close my eyes and weep for what I’ve lost.
I actually believed for a while that he’d grown to care for me, and eventually he’d maybe even love me.
How stupid of me.
No one could ever love a girl like me.
I’m deep in the throes of self-misery when I hear a high-pitched scream. I jump to my feet, my sorrows forgotten.
