“Thank you, Master,” she cooed sleepily.
Her gratitude warmed him, and he rewarded her with a sensual kiss to her nape. “Thank you, kitten,” he purred into her neck. “Thank you.”
Within ten minutes, he was up and moving, leaving his kitten stilled sprawled on his bed. He threw together a bag of essentials, some for him and some for his kitten before rousing her and helping her to wash before they left. It was a dank, cloudy day from beyond his window, so for the first time since he had taken her, he offered Molly one of his long coats before they departed. Exiting through the garage as before, he permitted her to walk, although he couldn’t quite resist shackling her ankles together first.
“I don’t have to travel in the cage again, do I Master?” she whispered into the darkness of the garage.
Clicking the fob on his car keys, he chuckled at the question. “Not this time, pet. This time, you even get to sit in the front seat with your Master.”
Holding open the said door for her, the light of the car illuminated the dark space and he caught sight of her surprised expression.
“Thank you,” she murmured in reply, and he could tell the sentiment was real enough.
He supposed she was right to be shocked. Things were pretty different from the last time he’d taken her from the house, and they both knew it.
Molly hopped into the passenger seat as quickly as she could in the shackles, and he took a moment to strap her into the seatbelt. Even this basic task roused his recently satisfied manhood, but Connor ignored its stirrings. He had had his fill of pleasure for the time being, and there would be no more until he had gotten them away. Still leaning over her body, he paused, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her skin mixed with his own arousal. He edged back inch by inch, pausing to pull up the lapels of his dark green overcoat, so that her breasts were completely covered. Up until now he had taken pleasure from the fact she was naked; from the fact he had kept her naked, but now he realized something new. This was as good, or maybe even better. The coat might be masking her beautiful form, but that body still belonged to him. Only now, he got to decide when and where it was revealed.
His lips grazed over her mouth in a silent acknowledgement. “Are you ready?”
She blinked up at him, her face bewildered. “I have a question, Master.”
He sighed, but smiled as he retreated from her body. “A question? What a surprise, Miss Clary.”
Molly bit her lip at his response, and he smirked at the reaction. It was the first time he had referred to her that way for a long time, and something about it made him want to laugh. Addressing his semi-naked and collared pet with such a title seemed ludicrously ironic.
“What’s your question?”
“I was just wondering,” she whispered. “Do you have the laptop with you?”
The laptop? He mused wryly. Why, of course, that’s what troubling her. Once the writer, always the writer…
“Yes, I have it,” he told her as he stood back from the car. “Do you want to write again?”
She nodded. “Yes, please. I find I have quite a few ideas, all of a sudden, and in any case, our story will need an ending.”
Connor laughed out loud as he slammed the door shut. She was right about that much at least. There was a lot for her to catch up on, but their story would definitely be needing that ending. And soon.
Chapter Forty
Connor drove them from the isolated house without another word. She gazed at the passing landscape, reveling in her new-found position at the front of the car. Of course, last time he had driven her she had also been at the front, but as she recalled on that occasion, she’d be forced to ride in his humiliating pet carrier crammed into the floorboards.
Her pussy clenched at the memory and she squirmed reflexively on the seat.
“Everything okay, pet?”
She turned at his question, meeting his inquiring gaze. “Yes, it’s fine, Master,” she replied breathily. “I was just enjoying the view.”
“Liar,” came the curt reply.
Molly blinked at him.
“I am not a liar!” she hissed, ensuring her tone was kept playful. “That was what I was thinking.”
He smiled, although his eyes were now thankfully back on the road ahead. “You were remembering the last time I drove you somewhere,” he announced. “And more specifically, you recalled how I transported you.”
Molly felt her face flush at his words. How did he do that? It was infuriating beyond belief that he always had the ability to read her mind somehow.
“Perhaps that was part of it,” she pouted, turning her attention back to the fields rushing past her window.
He laughed again, the dark sound making her core tighten. “Don’t fret,” he told her. “If it’s any consolation, I was thinking the exact same thing, kitten.”
There was silence as they both absorbed that fact. Molly didn’t know what to say to that, so she chose to say nothing at all. That crazy part of her had relished the ignominy of the pet carrier, but her body had not. She’d hated being forced into the thing, its cramped size leaving her limbs aching for hours even after they’d arrived at the horrendous cabin in the woods. As she stared down past her knees, she could barely believe that the carrier had fit there at all, let alone that she had been doubled up inside the thing.
“Where are we going, Master?” she asked, cringing at how raspy her voice sounded.
“Wait and see,” he answered without meeting her gaze. “It doesn’t matter where. We just need to make sure we’re away from the house for a while, that’s all.”
She nodded as though she understood, but she didn’t. None of this made any sense though. How could she acquiesce with this plan? How could she go along with any of it? That’s what she’d done, and she knew it. She was entirely complicit. There might be chains attached to her ankles, but she knew they were just for show. A simple accessory to arouse them both as they traveled. It still wasn’t clear to her what had happened since he’d brought her back to the house, but something had shifted in her mind. Things were different. She knew that she wouldn’t have made a run for it even if those shackles simply fell from her feet.
Molly glanced sideways at the man who was once her captor, the thought echoing through her mind. She wouldn’t run, and she knew it. He had been right from the start. There was no running from Connor, but as it turned out it wasn’t his dehumanizing treatment of her which had done the job, it was something else. Something which came from Molly herself. Her need to be degraded; her need for him. She loved the leash, and the pet bed and even the infernal cage, but she loved the other thing, too. That part of the man that was less of the sadist. The part that trailed gentle caresses over her flesh after they’d fucked, the part that was dedicated to her pleasure, as well as his own. The side of Connor that stayed up for hours holding her tight against his body heat, the part that let her talk, but also, and perhaps most importantly, the part of him that also wanted to open up.
Her mind flitted back to those conversations, concluding with his most recent revelation about Lydia.
Lydia.
This woman she had never met, and would now never meet. The one who had lived with him, serviced him, fucked him and done God knows what else at his beck and call, and the one he had snubbed out with his bare hands. Her glance went to those same large hands out of instinct. One was gripping the steering wheel, while the one closest to her rested over the gear shift. Those were the hands of a killer, but they were also the same hands that had cradled her, held her, and comforted her.
She sighed at the conundrum, looking away at the countryside again. She should probably have been keeping track of where they were; looking for a road sign, a landmark, anything that would reveal their location to her. But then, what would be the point? She already knew she had no intention of leaving him, so what did it matter where they were? Let him deal with that. Let him make those choices. Wasn’t that what she had always wanted? A man to take contr
ol of those decisions.
A man, or a monster?
There was that tiny voice again. The voice of reason. The one that knew it wasn’t okay to have affection for a self-confessed killer, and wasn’t afraid to say it.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely even registered the events which happened next. Afterwards she would say that she had heard the car ahead; and she was aware vaguely of the one behind them. There hadn’t been any other traffic since they’d left the house, so the vehicles should have been distracting, but still the sounds had not been enough to divert her from her thoughts.
It was Connor’s reaction that initially caught her attention. She noticed his body tense in that imperceptible way someone would notice a change in a person you had spent a lot of time with. Someone you knew. And then came the words.
“Shit!”
She turned to see what the problem was, following his gaze to the road ahead, and that’s when she finally saw the police cars. Three of them now. Two blocking the road and one coming directly toward them.
“They’ve found us,” he shouted, and just the tone of his voice alone made her heart want to leap from her chest.
Connor was in a panic, and it was a sight she had never witnessed before. Even the guy who’d confessed to seeing Lydia’s ghost hadn’t seemed as rattled as this.
He slammed on the brakes, causing her to lurch forward violently in her seat. Fortunately, the safety belt did its job, and held her steady, but it was enough to make her gasp. He was already grinding the gears and reversing the car as she got her bearings, but by the time he’d maneuvered the vehicle, another two squad cars were advancing on them.
From this point on, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Trapped by looming police cars in both directions, there was nowhere for Connor to drive. Snapping off his seatbelt, he reached over Molly’s body into the glove compartment. She froze in horror as he pulled a handgun from the space.
“Where did you get that?” she gasped.
She was reasonably used to guns at home, but as far as she knew, Brits rarely carried them.
“There’s no time for that now,” he snapped. “Get down and be quiet!”
Chapter Forty-One
It was already too late and he knew it, but the urge to fight was instinctive, drilled into him after years of training in The Syndicate. Connor grabbed the weapon without thinking, his eyes widening as he assessed his lack of choices. If he tried to run, there was the chance the cops would shoot him first. Even in England that happened sometimes. At the very least they’d taser him, which would hurt like fuck and would mean the end. And then there was the matter of Molly. He didn’t even know if she would run on command, or how well she could run in the damn chains. Glancing at her shocked face, he couldn’t tell if he saw fear or hope, but he had a good idea that a murder-suspect being found with a collared and chained woman would not help his cause.
Shit! How had he let this happen?
“Come out of the car with your hands up!”
The sound of an unknown voice boomed around the vehicle, making them both look behind them.
“You need to do as they say, Master.” Molly’s tone was breathy, the timbre capturing his attention even in this moment of tension.
Connor’s eyed narrowed. “You’re telling me what to do now?” His tone was sardonic, despite his heart slamming against his ribs.
“Connor, you know I’m right,” she pleaded. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Lydia. If you resist, it will make things worse.”
He shook his head at her words. Molly was right, and he knew it. This situation was fucking hopeless. “Okay, I’ll hand myself in.” He could barely believe the words which were coming from his mouth.
He was still leaning into her body, their faces just inches apart. “Kitten, I…” Connor paused, uncertain what the hell to say for the first time in forever. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this.”
Sorry? Had he just apologized to her, the woman he’d chained and dehumanized?
And loved.
Molly blinked up at him, her eyes tearing. “I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. “I…”
“I repeat. Come out with your hands up!”
She was so close, Connor could feel the heat of her breath against his flesh. He wanted to kiss her, to touch her, tell her he couldn’t face the light of another day without her, but there was no time.
No time.
At any rate, he could never get those words past his lips, however much he wanted to.
“I have to go,” he whispered. “But this isn’t done, kitten.”
She swallowed as the first tear fell from those large blue eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “This can never be done.”
Every fiber of his body wanted to stay with her, but he knew there was no choice. Why hadn’t he held her more when he’d had her? Just small caresses like the touch of her skin on his palm, the feeling of her lips against his flesh. He should have held her more, fucked her more. He should have memorized each tiny line on her face, and breathed in that sweet scent which drove him crazy. And now it was too late. Now he was stuck with this new status quo. The police, custody and all the corresponding bullshit. Just wait until he spoke to Carson. That bastard owed him big time.
He pushed back the wave of emotion which washed over him, sliding from his seat toward the car door.
“Don’t take the gun,” she implored him. “Being armed won’t help you. Just leave it here, Master. Please.”
Connor hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. Once again, his little pet was right. If the police spotted a weapon, it would do him no favors. The gun fell from his fingers as he edged toward the exit. Sliding from the car, he raised his hands as instructed. There were already four uniformed officers surrounding the vehicle, two of them holding tasers in his direction.
“Move away from the car, sir,” cried the one to his right. “Step away toward me!”
He took one final glance back toward Molly as his feet moved away. The last thing he saw was her tear-stained expression, those pretty eyes following him as he inched away. The knot in his chest tightened. Life without his kitten seemed impossible right now, an unbearable burden he just couldn’t carry.
Officers surrounded Molly’s door as she watched Connor being cuffed.
“Ma'am.”
One of them was calling to her, but she could barely drag her eyes from the physical stature of the man who’d taken her.
“Ma’am, step out of the vehicle, please.”
She turned toward the voice, finding a large uniformed cop looming over her. She was nodding as she pushed the door open, sliding her bare feet onto the tarmac.
“Walk toward me, Ma’am,” came the next instruction.
“I can’t move fast,” she sobbed. “My ankles are shackled, and…”
The officer’s gaze dropped to her feet, his eyes widening at the sight. “Are you okay, Ma’am?” he asked her. “Are you hurt?”
Molly shook her head, but the tears were really falling now. “I’m okay,” she whimpered, “but I don’t have any clothes under this. Please, can you help me?”
“We can help you,” he assured her. “You’re going to be okay.”
Chapter Forty-Two
It had been five days since Connor had been arrested. That in itself seemed impossible. How could it have been five full days since she’d seen him, felt the soft caress of his fingers, heard the gravelly tone of his voice? But, somehow it was. Five days had passed. Five endless days of questions, medical examinations and hours spent in gray rooms. All the rooms were the same now, whether they were in the hospital, or the police station, or at the tower block of a hotel the British authorities had compelled her into. Each was as desolate-looking as the next. She’d barely been left alone since she’d watched them cart Connor off in handcuffs. Him in handcuffs! The thought should have been amusing, and yet she recalled the shock which had resonated through her body at the sight. Even then he’d
seemed calm and in control, his handsome features passive as he was man-handled away. The last time they’d made eye contact, the strength of his green stare had almost speared her.
“Your mother is arriving in a few hours, Miss Clary.”
The sound of the detective’s voice broke Molly from her internal monologue, and she lifted her chin to feign a smile. Detective Miller was a weary-looking woman. Molly supposed she had been attractive once, but her long blonde hair looked dank, falling into frizzy waves in front of her pale skin. In her fading black outfit, she merged wonderfully into the miserable surroundings of the modern hotel.
“Thank you,” came her mumbled reply, but already her mind was slipping away, sinking back to Connor.
Where was he? What was happening to him? Would she ever see him again?
“Detective Inspector Finley and I need to ask you some more questions now.” The middle-aged woman paused, presumably waiting for some sort of response. There was none forthcoming. “If you feel up to it, Miss Clary?”
Molly sighed, the sound escaping her lips before her brain even had time to rationalize the query. More questions. How can there be more questions? Hadn’t she been through everything at least a hundred times already? “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
Her voice sounded small and distant.
“I understand,” began Detective Miller, wandering around to pull up a chair next to where Molly was sitting. “But D.I. Finley wants to ask you about something different.”
Molly’s brows knitted. Something different? “Like what?” she asked directly.
Miller hesitated, her dark eyes blinking as she assessed the woman sat before her. “Mr. Reilly has been accused of another crime,” she began slowly. “Something unrelated to your capture and treatment, and my colleague wants to see if you know anything about that.”
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