“Shit, no. Now if she wants to bring a knife to bed and use it on me, hell yeah.”
Charlie snickered. “That’s what I thought. I told them you were a masochist.”
Vincent punched him in the side, remembering too late that they both had injuries. “Asshole.”
Charlie shifted with the blow and winced, hunching his side a little. “That’s okay. They know I’m a sadist.”
Vincent stared at him a moment, putting two and two together. Then he let out a low whistle. A sadist with their history? “Damn, Ranay’s way braver than I gave her credit for.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
They shared a few moments, just breathing and remembering and letting go. Vincent almost laughed. He’d been wearing armor all his life and hadn’t even known it. Now he felt as light as a feather. “So what now?”
“I’ve got a place in Belize that Ranay likes. We’ll probably go back there. Are you going to find Mads?”
“Yeah. All I have is her name, but I’ll find her.”
“Do you need money, passports, weapons...”
Shaking his head, Vincent laughed. “I’ve got an exit bag stashed at the Royal Reefs. I’m good, bro.”
“When will you go?” Charlie’s voice turned solemn.
“I’ll catch a few Zs and then go after her.” That was a lie. He only rarely relaxed enough to fully sleep. The last good sleep he’d had was with Mads in his bed watching over him.
Charlie’s lips quirked as if he knew, but he didn’t call him on it. “So this is goodbye.”
“For now.”
Charlie reached into his pocket and handed him a card. “You can always reach me through this website. You call, and I’ll be there. No questions asked.”
“Same. I’ll leave you a number that will go through my handler. I’ll get the message.”
He stared at his brother, his throat tight. It must be his damned shoulder hurting. That’s why his eyes burned so bad.
Charlie made the first move and then they were hugging. Vincent breathed him in, remembering the scent of his hair when he’d been just a little kid. Always had the curly mop of hair. Always smelled good. Like home. He thumped Charlie on the back and then let him go. Feeling like a sappy idiot, he turned abruptly and headed for his room.
“Take care of yourself,” Charlie called after him.
“Always. You too, little brother. Don’t make me hunt you down and kick your ass.”
Vincent stretched out on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. Somewhere nearby, Mads was probably going through a debriefing with Lyons. She’d be tired but exhilarated too. They’d brought down a major player and the Gyreses had decimated most of Vlasenko’s team. The FBI would take Nadiya and Marko into protective custody, or least take them in for heavy questioning. They’d better watch out for Nadiya. She was one smart lady.
But not as smart as my lady.
He forced himself to close his eyes. Bringing up Mads’s face, remembering her hair spread out on the pillow, the way she’d fought so damned hard. He had to regain his strength before he saw her, or she’d whoop his ass like he’d just threatened to do to Charlie.
I can’t wait.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nassau, Bahamas
Ranay
I had the kindest, most considerate Master in the world. Rather than making me puke my guts out on a boat all the way back to Belize, Charlie hired a small airplane to fly us out of Nassau. Walking across the tarmac, it was all I could do not to skip like a little girl or race Sheba to our plane. After twenty years, Charlie had finally been reunited with his brother, who wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. We’d done some good by bringing down a human trafficker and freed several terrified women. Charlie had included and listened to me. He’d honored our safeword fully, even outside the bedroom.
And most of all, he’d shifted things around in his assassin’s life to make room for me. Not just vacation. But his life.
“Can you teach me how to shoot a gun?”
He gave me a dark look. “No. I’m still angry that you risked your life by shooting that idiot who grabbed you. Let Sheba and me do our jobs next time.”
Next time. That phrase made me glow.
He lifted my hand in his and kissed the backs of my knuckles. “I’ve been remiss.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ve referred to you as my fiancée several times on this trip but have failed to ever ask if that’s even something you’d consider.”
I jerked to a halt and stared at him. My thoughts scattered like loose papers in a hurricane. “What?”
A smile played on his lips, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Would you consider becoming my fiancée?”
He wasn’t asking me to marry him. Not exactly. Only if I would consider it. I blinked rapidly, trying to get a grip on my elation before I did something stupid. Like throw myself on my knees in front of everybody at this busy airport and unzip his pants. I swallowed and pushed that image away. “I would consider it.”
“Good to know.” He tugged on my hand and got me walking again. “I’ve got a ring in my pocket. But I’m not going to ask you until you’re wearing my collar. Deal?”
My feet quit working and I stumbled into him. He paused, caught me and gripped my chin hard enough that I sucked in my breath and focused on him.
“Better.” He leaned down and kissed my nose. “Let’s get home and then we’ll have a conversation.”
My eyes dilated and I licked my lips. I knew what that meant, and it wouldn’t be talking much at all. “Yes, Master.”
We turned back toward our plane, and my heart dropped to the floor and shattered into a million pieces.
“Charlie, Ranay.” Jill Matheson smiled. Instead of a gorgeous dress, she wore her work clothes, complete with dark pants and a holstered gun on her hip. “Glad to see you again.” She squatted down and rubbed Sheba behind the ears. “And Sheba, of course.”
“Special Agent Matheson,” Charlie replied calmly and offered his hand. “You can be the first to congratulate us.”
“Oh?”
He smiled down at me, his eyes and manner telling me not to be afraid. Be cool. Your Master knows what to do. “Ranay has agreed to consider the possibility of becoming my wife.”
“Congratulations.” Jill actually did look happy for us, but my stomach still rolled and pitched like we were back on that fucking boat. I cast a quick look around, braced for police and agents to swarm over us. The red-haired man nodded at me, the man she’d introduced as her partner back in Petit St. Vincent, but I didn’t see the black man. Maybe Jill hadn’t brought an army to drag Charlie back in after all. “I’m here on official business.”
Shit.
Amiable as ever, Charlie replied, “What can I do for you?”
“Agent Archer gave a detailed summary of your recent assistance. Your government would like to formally thank you for your service.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Jill opened a file and flipped through a few pages. “You didn’t shoot Andriy Mykailovych Vlasenko in the head?”
Charlie rocked back on his heels slightly, his hands and shoulders loose. “Ah, you mean that night on Vlasenko’s private cruise ship? It did get quite dangerous. I’m afraid the whole night was a blur. We were lucky to escape with our lives.”
“Yes, you were. Very lucky. And Vincent—did he escape with his life by the skin of his teeth too?”
Charlie widened his eyes. “My brother? I certainly hope so. But I haven’t seen him since.”
“So you wouldn’t know anything about a minor disturbance at the Royal Reefs this morning? Guests reported a bald-headed man running through the lobby with a large black duffel bag.”
&n
bsp; “Not at all. I suppose there are a great many bald men in Nassau, though.”
She smiled back, her eyes tight. “Indeed. I just thought I should warn you that Agent Archer will be under careful surveillance to ensure her safety.”
“I’m glad. She was a great help to us in our escape from Vlasenko.”
“I don’t suppose you know anything about a missing laptop, either. It contained all of Vlasenko’s business.”
Charlie shrugged. “Sorry. Never saw it.”
Jill looked at me and it was all I could do not to gulp and clutch Charlie’s hand. “What do you have to say about all this, Ranay?”
“Boats make me seasick.”
She burst out into laughter and the tension zinging through me eased a notch. “I thought you looked rather green at our dinner the other night. Knowing how much Charlie loves you, I thought it’d be safe to guess you’d fly rather than take a boat home. All we had to do then is watch for a huge black dog.”
I looked at Charlie, a sudden tremor turning my stomach back into knots. Didn’t pilots have to file a report saying where they were going? If so, then the FBI knew exactly where his hideout was. He arched a brow and squeezed my fingers. Trust me.
I did. Completely.
“We’re just wondering if you might agree to do some work for us once you get back to Mexico.”
I blinked, trying to keep my face smooth. Of course my Master would never have left a trail leading to our secret beach in Belize.
Charlie asked, “Unofficially?”
Jill pulled a fat envelope out of the folder and handed it to him. “Officially this time. Take a look at the proposal and let me know what you think. The short version is that since our joint task force did so well bringing down Vlasenko, Dad put together a proposal to keep our team together long-term. He worked out a special deal with the Attorney General to clear your names—both Gyres and MacNiall—of any suspicion in exchange for your assistance.”
She didn’t say Charles, the last name on my passport. Hopefully they hadn’t made that connection yet.
“I’ve never been charged with anything.”
“True. But your name is flagged in all law enforcement databases from the FBI to Interpol. If you used Gyres to try to board a plane, you’d have a host of agents waiting for you on the other end.”
“For questioning,” he said with a wry twist of his lips.
“You are a very popular man right now. Your brother even more so. If you agree to work with us, that flag would be lifted from your file permanently.”
I tried to think through the ramifications of what that would mean. We wouldn’t have to use fake names. We could travel back and forth from Belize to the States. Openly. My family might even be a little more forgiving if we could visit without worrying about FBI agents nabbing us as soon as we tried to go to my family home.
But Charlie had built a life for himself outside the law. He valued his independence. As a contract killer, he picked the jobs he wanted, that he felt he could truly do some good if he eliminated the named serial killer. The FBI would only use him to their end. Who would they send him after? Would his particular code allow him to go after whoever they ordered him to kill? Because that was what he did best.
Charlie was a killer. The best killer. They wouldn’t want him for any other reason.
“And my brother?”
“Vincent is still under the CIA’s jurisdiction, but Dad can be pretty persuasive. Minimally, I have a feeling we might be able to call upon him from time to time. Thanks to information Agent Archer gathered from Vlasenko, we no longer want Vincent for questioning in the death of the young woman in Jamaica.”
Charlie slipped the envelope into an inside pocket of his new jacket—this time a new lightweight black leather jacket that made me wet just looking at it. “I’ll read through the proposal and give you a call.”
“Great.” Jill looked at me and smiled. “I’d be honored to attend the big day. Just call me.”
My own family had pretty much disowned me, so she might be the only person who’d show up for me if we did get married. Impulsively, I gave her a quick hug. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
She hugged me back. “Take care of yourself. And him too.” Then she whispered for my ears only. “Mads told me how you stopped him. Thank you. Marko has crucial information about his father’s business that we can use.”
She let go of me and I took Charlie’s hand again. “I will. I promise.”
And I would always keep my promises for him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Belize
Charlie
From the beginning, I expected that I’d have to send Ranay home to the States eventually. She would see too much. She wouldn’t be able to deal with the reality of what I am and what I do to survive. The blood and pain would eventually be too much for her.
As long as she wanted to stay, I’d keep her happy, then I’d send her to safety and count my blessings that I’d had at least a taste of what love could be. As much as a monster like me could understand.
Monsters don’t get happy endings. The Beast’s curse is lifted and he becomes the Prince again. They live happily ever after and the Beast is no more.
He doesn’t consider going to work with the FBI to use his killing services again—and soon, though I don’t know who the target will be yet.
I won’t ever transform to the charming Prince. I’ll always have claws and fangs tipped in blood. I’ll always need suffering and death to help assuage the killing need inside me.
And my Belle, somehow, beyond all my hopes and expectations, loves me anyway.
I don’t deserve the happily-ever-after.
But by God, I’m going to keep her. I’m going to protect her.
And I’m going to love her until the day someone manages to put a bullet in my skull.
Ranay
I stirred as Charlie lifted me up in his arms. I fought to open my eyes, but car rides always lulled me to sleep. All the stress of the past few days had wiped me out. I barely remembered landing at some dusty little airstrip and getting into a Jeep.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pressed my face into the hollow of his throat and breathed in his scent. I didn’t care where we were. As long as he was here.
“I can walk the rest of the way.” I nuzzled his ear and tickled him with my tongue. “You’re injured.”
“The day I can’t carry my slave to bed is the day I hang up my guns and knives and take up gardening.”
When he paused a moment to catch his breath at the bottom of the stairs leading to his bedroom, I had to tease him. “I like gardening. Can we plant roses? I’ve always wanted a rose garden.”
In payment, he lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder, his big hand settling on my ass to hold me in place. “That, young lady, surely deserves a spanking.”
He gave me a playful swat and started up the stairs. I giggled at the thought. My Master was formidable. He could drop me to the floor in three seconds flat, make me tremble with pain and never leave a mark on me, and hold a knife to my throat while he fucked me. He could even choke me.
But he’d never, ever spanked me.
Charlie wasn’t a spanking kind of Master.
He tossed me down on the bed, making me laugh. I scrambled up to my knees, expecting him to chase me, then froze at the heavy look in his eyes. That look stilled my amusement and my body instantly went on high alert.
“Take a quick shower while I prepare a few things.”
“Yes, Master.”
I scrambled immediately to the large bathroom. Quickly could mean a lot of things, but for him, that meant five minutes. I stripped in record time, washed my hair and body, and jumped out to towel off right as he stuck his head in the door.
; “Time’s up. Get in bed and ready yourself.”
That could mean a variety of things too. I went to the bed, and he’d laid out the chunky black leather collar. Just looking at it made me wet. I loved how tightly it fit my throat. It was his ultimate sign of ownership. I loved wearing it, though he only rarely ever pulled it out. He didn’t need the trappings of dominance and submission, the formalities that came with a Master-slave relationship like ours. When he indulged, it was entirely for my benefit.
It might sound strange, but most of any power scene we played out was for me. His needs and preferences were brutally simple.
Me. Hurting. With blood.
My fingertips were cold, making me clumsy, but I managed to buckle the collar. It was better when he did it, those big, glorious hands taking possession of my throat. But I could easily imagine the fire in his eyes, the weight of his hands when he strode back in here and found me waiting for him. He’d also laid out soft cotton rope. Strange. He never really indulged in bondage. If he wanted me to stay put, he held me down himself. Or used something simple to tie my hands when I couldn’t keep still. Never something as formal as rope.
Now the knife I definitely knew and loved. I guessed that he’d laid it out to cut the rope, but I could hope and dream he’d stroke it over me again and give me a few cuts. That surge of fear, adrenaline and then lust as I watched him indulge in his darker needs fueled my passion like nothing else.
He’d said to get in bed, so I climbed up on my knees facing the bedroom, spread my legs as widely as possible, and then tucked my hands behind my back. Then I waited.
And waited.
Charlie never took a fifteen-minute shower. Never. Grinding my teeth, I fought to keep the position I’d taken for him, but my shoulders were starting to cramp. He’d never said I had to keep my hands behind my back, but that was a position of respect and submission I’d been taught. Damned if I’d give it up out of weakness, even if he didn’t care.
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