All I Need: Ian & Annie

by Callie Harper

  I finished my last deployment four months ago. I'm never going back.

  The man I am now, crouching on a fire escape, gun in hand, is a far cry from the man I once was. I'm still a trained sniper lurking in the night. But now I’ve teamed up with the bad guys, providing cover as bad men punish other bad men.

  It's a means to an end. And I'm close to that end. After tonight with a little more cash in my pocket, I'm gone. I have a cabin in the middle of nowhere in northern Wisconsin. It's only six hours north of Chicago, but it's a different world. No backfiring cars sounding like gunshots. No jostling, noisy crowds triggering my fight or flight response. No crying children giving me flashbacks of airstrikes. I'm going to vanish without a trace, heading into the wild to live off the land. No one will even know my name.

  Next to the restaurant’s dumpster, the gleam of a cigarette glows in the darkness. It’s like a flare going up to signal an exact location to a copter. Looks like the bad buys have finally arrived—alert the neighborhood. Who the hell lights up a cigarette while working this kind of a job? Amateurs, that’s who. The heyday of the Chicago mafia is long over. Those two down on the corner are no Al Capone-era mobsters. They're small-time, two-bit thugs.

  That's why Big Rudy has to hire me to cover his ass. He needs no witnesses, no escaped assets. I'm his back-up plan. If all goes well, I won't even have to do a thing to collect my money. But with those two idiots in charge of sealing the deal, that's a big “if.”

  That sweet young thing had best not come outside again. She doesn't want to get caught in the crosshairs. No way would I hurt a hair on her head, but those two gorillas on the corner have the precision of a giant meteor. There’s no telling what might happen if she gets in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Damn, she had some juicy curves. When she'd put a bag into the recycling bin, she'd had to strain up and over. That little skirt had pulled tight across her full ass. I could see the outline of her cheeks, the hem only a couple inches down from her pussy. I’d swallowed watching her tug it down after, as if a skirt like that could do anything to hide what she had to offer. I wanted her in something longer, baggier, so no one else could see those thighs, that ass. But for me and me alone, I wanted her skirt shoved up to her waist. Pushed against the brick wall, she could show me everything.

  She’d paused before she’d headed back inside, a worried look on her perfect, heart-shaped face. So young and innocent, she stirred something deep within me, a yearning, a hunger. If I were a good man, I might think good thoughts. I might consider stopping by the restaurant tomorrow, ordering a cup of coffee, maybe asking for her number to take her out on a proper date.

  But I’m not a good man, not anymore. A growl forms in my chest as dark thoughts surface. I picture her down before me, those full lips wrapped around my thick cock. Right there in the dark alleyway, I could make her kneel, her bare knees on the rough pavement. That ponytail wrapped in my fist, I'd feed her my cock. She’d look up at me with those wide, innocent eyes as I fucked her mouth.

  I stifle a groan. My balls ache. I'm rock hard, my dick hammering for release. It's been too long since I've been with a woman. It’s not that I haven’t had the chance. I left the SEALS, but not the training. I still push myself to the limit every day like I’m training for the zombie apocalypse. Some habits die hard.

  Women want me, but I haven't wanted to be with a single one. Not until now. Inconvenient timing to suddenly have my inner caveman roar. Nothing I can do about it, though. I’m nothing more than a ghost making my last appearance before I vanish.

  I don’t even know the details of this job I’m on. I don’t want to. All I know is what I need to know—protect the men stealing the asset. Someone’s done something to piss off the big guy. Now they’ll pay. If I had to guess, I’d bet it’s the owner of that restaurant where my little beauty works. He probably owes Rudy money. The place looks like a legit establishment, but the best scams have the best fronts. He’s probably running something on the side. Maybe he took a loan and didn’t sell enough of whatever he’s moving.

  Now he’ll be taken and tortured until he pays. All bad people, doing bad things. The less details I know the better.

  The back door opens again and I get ready. Damn it, my girl comes out again, looking up, looking down. She’s nervous, like she can sense the danger. I tense, every muscle in my body ready to go. She needs to get out of there.

  She hesitates, peering down the alleyway into the dark. My finger on the trigger ready to keep her safe, I hold my breath, watching. Run away, beauty. Bad shit is about to go down. She needs to be far gone when it does.

  The gorillas move first. Quicker than I would've guessed they could act, they grab her, wrestle her arms behind her back and secure her wrists in a zip tie. She’s so much smaller than them, her eyes wide with terror. What the hell are they doing? This girl's no threat. This girl needs protection.

  One gags her before she can even get out a scream. The other takes out a syringe. He brings it to her slender, pale neck and pumps it into her.

  Hell no. She’s the asset. She's the one they're going to kidnap.

  Not on my watch. Instinct takes over, so strong it pierces through my darkness. They will not hurt her. I will save her, and I will keep her safe if it's the last thing I do.

  I spring like a panther down to the sidewalk, silent, on my feet in a fraction of a heartbeat. They don’t hear me. They don’t see me. I don’t even have to use a bullet. An elbow to a windpipe, the butt of my gun to a forehead and the gorillas are down, crumpled, one sucking wind, one unconscious.

  Beauty lies at my feet slumped in a heap, motionless on the sidewalk. I crouch down, a quick finger to her pulse. It’s strong and sure. I knew it would be, but still I exhale in relief. I know how these bastards work. They knocked her out so they could drag her off. Then she'd wake up in a basement somewhere where no one could hear her screams for mercy.

  That’s not going to happen. I cradle her in my arms, holding her tight to my chest. She doesn’t stir, but I feel her breath, warm and even against my neck. Her breasts pressed against me, I stand, carrying her with ease as I take off into the night.

  Crack dealers late on their payments, pimps not pulling their weight, those were dirty, rotten crooks. When Big Rudy messed with them, as far as I was concerned it was scum screwing around with scum in a petri dish brimming with filth, every one of them beneath my moral radar. Over the past few months, it had been easy to detach and stay removed from the jobs. I’d rationalized it in my head. They were just bad guys taking out other bad guys. All I was doing was keeping watch.

  But this woman? Shit got real once I saw her. Asleep in my arms, vulnerable and soft, she’s all that's good in the world. And she's mine now.

  In seconds, I reach my car around the corner. I lay her gently in the back seat. Passed out as she is, she’ll be more comfortable lying down. Her dark hair spreading out over the seat, contrasting with her milky skin, she looks so peaceful, a sleeping beauty. Her breasts are splayed, full and round, almost too big for her shirt. The hem rides up, exposing a glimpse of her stomach.

  Her skin begs for my tongue. I want to trace a searing path, do it now while she's bound. But I want her awake. I want her to feel every filthy, dirty thing I'm going to do to her. And I want to watch her as I do it, so I can drink in every response, hear every breath as she tries to struggle.

  That way I can savor the moment when her cries turn into a moan of need. I can watch as her eyes glaze with desire. I'll suckle her clit until she begs for more. I’ll bury my cock in her again and again, feeding a need I already know will never be sated.

  After we get somewhere safe. I buckle the seatbelt snug around her waist, leaving her wrists tied. I don't know how much they gave her, so I don't know how long she'll be out. She might panic when she comes to and injure us both. Better to leave her bound. But I untie the gag, exposing her plump, berry pink lips.

  I have to close my eyes and shake my head to try a
nd clear it. It takes all my training to force myself to step away, close the car door and climb into the driver's seat.

  She may have escaped two monsters in the night. But she's fallen into the clutches of another. And I’m going to drag her deep into my cave.

  I hadn't taken her with a plan. But now it comes to me, laid out clear like a soldier in battle. I know where I'm headed, what I need to do to keep her safe. And I will keep her safe. They’re not going to touch a hair on her head.

  They will try to. I know it with certainty. They will come after her and me. Big Rudy will not like what has gone down.

  In the blink of an eye, acting on impulse, I've fucked up all my plans. One second I'd been poised and ready, about to gain my freedom. Now I've painted a huge bullseye target on my back.

  But that doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore except getting her safe. From everyone else.

  But not safe from me. I’ve got her right where I want her.

  3. Olivia

  My head hurts like hell. It feels like someone smacked me with an iron skillet. I open my eyes but it's dark, and something's buzzing. Or roaring.

  I groan and try to bring my hands up to rub my eyes, but I can't. What the hell? My wrists are tied behind my back.

  “Help!” I gasp, my throat burning. Disoriented, I can't sit up. Something's pinning me down.

  “You're all right. We're almost there.” A deep masculine voice I've never heard before addresses me from the front seat. I'm in a car, I realize, in the back seat.

  “Where am I? Who are you?” Panic seizes through me as memories shoot into my brain. That feeling I'd had of being watched. The moment I'd realized I’d been right. Men had grabbed me and tied me up. One had stuck me with a needle. “Help!” I scream, louder, struggling against whatever’s holding me down.

  “Calm down.” He sounds authoritative, commanding. It probably shouldn't calm my nerves, but something about the way his voice sounds does. “Breathe,” he instructs me. “Don't panic. You're going to be all right.”

  “What happened? Why am I tied up?”

  “Some men tried to hurt you. I stopped them.” Outside the restaurant, I remembered. In the alleyway. “You shouldn't go places like that alone. Anything could have happened to you.” His voice sounds tense, as if he’s clenching his jaw.

  “Can you untie me?” If he's rescued me, why am I still tied up and in the back of a car?

  “I will, as soon as we arrive.”

  “Are you taking me to a doctor?” My voice sounds weak as fear seeps in again. Even as I ask, I know it's not happening. He said he stopped the bad men, but I can sense that this nightmare isn't over.

  “You don't need a doctor. They gave you something to knock you out, but once that wears off you'll be fine. They didn't hurt you anywhere else.”

  I can tell my arms, my legs, everything feels all right. It's my head that pounds, groggy, like it’s under a pound of sand. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere safe.” His voice sounds dark and ominous, and a shiver runs down my spine. I don't feel safe. I feel trapped. I struggle against my restraints, kicking and wriggling until I'm sitting upright. I can't unbuckle because my wrists are bound tight. But sitting up, I can see him.

  He's huge.

  The back of his neck is broad, and his shoulders are thick and wide. I'm in the middle seat behind him, so I can't see his face, but I see a strong profile, his jaw locked and firm. He's wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt even though it's November. His biceps strain against the cotton and his forearms are corded with muscle.

  I swallow, feeling even more powerless than before. Whoever this man is, I can't outrun him. Definitely can't overpower him. I'll have to use my wits. I'll have to stay alert, observing as much as I can about my surroundings until I can seize my opportunity to escape.

  The dashboard clock is lit: 4:04 a.m. I left my shift at the restaurant at 11. Had we been driving for five hours?

  Outside the car windows, it's pitch dark. We’re not in the city anymore. The road is made of dirt, narrow and uneven. It looks like we’re in a big SUV, but we’re still getting tossed around by ditches and bumps.

  In the headlights, I see trees everywhere, trees growing close in a canopy overhead, trees framing the road like walls. We’re in the deep, dark woods. Terror grips my heart.

  “Please don't hurt me.” The words escape my lips even as I know the futility of my plea. He can do anything he chooses. “What do you want with me?”

  “We are almost there. Sit tight until then.” He turns down a road even less traveled than the one we've been on. We lurch and plunge into the darkness. Until we stop. In the headlights, I can see a log cabin, rough and sturdy. It's small and it's in the middle of nowhere.

  No one knows where I am. No one can find me. He parks, walks around and opens the passenger door. I don't think. I act. The second he undoes my seat belt I bite his arm, trying to sink my teeth into his bicep but I get his shirt instead. I kick at him, pushing my way past, trying to squeeze out the passenger door and away.

  It's like trying to get past a steel wall. His arm wraps around me, an iron band of muscle pulling me against his body. I struggle and scream. The woods answer me, dark and silent. He doesn't even break his step as he hoists me up and over his shoulder.

  Inside, he flicks on the lights and places me onto a large bed.

  “Stop! Help! Please!” I beg, words tumbling out of my mouth as I wildly kick and flail.

  “Stop struggling.” Large hands hold down my shoulders. With one of his thick thighs, he easily pushes down my knees. I'm immobilized beneath his muscle, his heat.

  Panting, I look up, straight at him for the first time. My mouth drops open. His dark, chocolate brown eyes gaze down at me with such intensity, conflict and pain it takes my breath away. I know somehow, on instinct, they are not the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. I don't know who this man is, or what his intentions are, but I hold still. I can feel my heart beating, the weight of his thigh against mine. I swallow, bewildered, my emotions swirling.

  “Can you listen to me?” His voice is deep and gruff, as if he's not used to speaking often. I'm struck with the sense that my presence is as disturbing to him as his is to me. “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Liv.”

  “Short for Olivia?” I nod. “Olivia, I’m Knox, and I’m not going to hurt you. I want to talk to you. Will you sit still and listen if I let go?” I nod again, vividly aware of the contact between us, the tension coursing through his body into mine.

  He gives me one last look, his eyelids low, his gaze resting on my lips. I catch my breath, almost wondering if he's about to kiss me. But the moment passes, gone as soon as it arrived.

  He stands, rising to his full height. He must be 6'3" or 6'4", and his broad shoulders and thick dark hair make him look like a superhero. Only he’s a villain, I remind myself. He’s taken me against my will.

  He looks down at me on the bed, then rakes his hand through his hair. “What kind of trouble are you mixed up in?”

  “What?”

  “Crime? How are you connected to the mob?”

  “Are you kidding? Are you asking if I’m a criminal? I’ve never even stolen a pack of gum.”

  “Do I look like I'm joking?” He stares at me, dead serious.

  I shake my head. “No, I’ve never broken the law. I have nothing to do with the mob.”

  “You do,” he insists, starting to pace the floor.

  “I don't.”

  “Think.” He sits down next to me on the bed, his weight dipping the mattress down. It makes me slide closer to him, and I try to scoot away. He glances down at my thighs, exposed as my skirt rides up. I stop my movement.

  He curses and looks away. “Those men, the ones who grabbed you, they work for the Corretti family. Why would they want revenge on you?”

  “I've done nothing! I'm a waitress. I take online classes. I live a quiet little life.”

  To my surprise, he se
ems to believe me. “Then who do you know who's dirty? A friend? A relative? A boyfriend?” He almost growls the last option, his gaze dark.

  “No, I don't have a boyfriend.” The muscle in his jaw seemed to relax, his fists unclenching a bit. “I mostly keep to myself,” I insist. “My roommates are all like me, girls working at coffee shops and fast food chains.” I’m at a loss, trying to imagine any of them doing anything criminal.

  “What about family?”

  “No, my mom...” I trail off. It’s not my mom. It’s my dad. I exhale, my chin dropping to my chest. If my damn hands were untied, I’d give my forehead a rub. I need a Tylenol. Or 20.

  “Who is it?”

  “It might be my dad.” My voice sounds like a lost, scared child, and that's how I feel.

  “Why do you think it might be him?” His voice grows quieter, and he moves almost as if he’s about to put his arm around me. But he doesn’t. “Where does he work?”

  “I don't know.” I shake my head, all the suspicions I’ve had over the years taking root in my mind. “It might be bookkeeping, but...” I shrug. The cash handouts. The unmarked building. The thugs he works with. “Do you think he's in trouble?” I look up at my captor, tears brimming in my eyes.

  “Two men drug and try to kidnap you, and you're worried about the guy responsible?” I guess it’s an accusation, but he doesn't say it like he thinks I’m an idiot. He sounds astonished.

  “I don't know what's happening.” I can't stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks. “Can you untie me?”

  “I’ll untie you, but you have to promise you won’t run. You won’t get away from me. And you might hurt yourself if you try.”

  “I promise.”

  He takes out a Swiss Army knife and cuts through the zip tie. The second my hands are free, I run. I bolt out the front door, racing as fast as I can, tearing away from the cabin, blind in the darkness. His arm wraps around me before I even get 30 feet, stopping me like a steel band. He scoops me up like I weigh nothing. And I weigh something. I’m no ballerina, but he lifts and hauls me over his shoulder. My fists pounding on his broad, strong back don’t make the slightest bit of difference.