His Every Fantasy

by Delilah Devlin

  “But you don’t mind now, do you?”

  For only a second, she considered his question. And funnily enough, she didn’t. In fact, the knowledge Sergei’s friend had watched turned her on. A thrill shivered across her skin as she imagined everything he had seen. A reaction that made Sergei’s eyes darken. When she tugged her hand free from his, she walked with a little extra sway to her hips as she joined the men at the table.

  Today’s meal was étouffée served in bowls of rice. When the Louisiana hot sauce was passed, she shook the bottle longer than any of the guys did, then glanced up to find them staring. “I’m from San Antonio. Think I can’t take the heat?”

  Conversation flowed around her as she ate. Mostly about the renovations and things happening in town. At the mention of the sheriff, she paused and her ears perked up.

  “Told him to let the SAPD know she’s not missing,” Sergei said.

  “Someone notified the police I was missing?”

  Seated beside her, Sergei nodded. “Your uncle. Yesterday. Why’d it take him so long to know you were gone?”

  Good question. She shoved back her bowl. “Maybe he couldn’t report. I’m an adult. The authorities would make him wait a certain amount of time, wouldn’t they?”

  Sergei’s gaze went to Eric’s.

  She didn’t need to be a mind reader to interpret the doubt in both men’s eyes. “I should call him. Let him know I’m okay.”

  “Is that wise?” Sergei said. “He’s connected to Marroquin.”

  “Do you think he might be in danger too?”

  “Have you considered that your uncle may have known you were taken?” Sergei’s gaze flicked around to the others then returned. “And that he’s only making the report because things went sideways?”

  Shame warmed her cheeks at the thought they all suspected her uncle, her only living family, might be involved in her abduction. Never mind she’d had her own doubts. She lifted her chin. “If he’s not involved, shouldn’t I ease his mind that I’m safe?”

  Sergei sighed and set his napkin beside his bowl. “We’re still digging into the firm’s business. How close are you to your uncle?”

  She shrugged. “After my parents were killed, he helped with some of my tuition at UT.” She didn’t say he’d only loaned her money for books. Her uncle was wealthy and could have afforded so much more, but she hated admitting that. It made her feel unworthy of love and she didn’t want to appear pathetic. “I stayed with him for a few weeks when I finished college.” She knew what she said sounded dry and unemotional, but the more she spoke the more defensive she began to feel. She’d taken for granted her strained relationship with her uncle. After all, they’d never been close. But seeing the shuttered expressions, the targeted glances this tight-knit group of men shared, exposed a nerve. She shrugged, pretending indifference. “My mom was his little sister, and he never approved of my dad, who worked on oil rigs. He didn’t think Dad was good enough for his sister, so I never knew him very well. But he is family. The only one I’ve got.” Her hands balled into fists. “He can’t be involved in this. And if he is somehow mixed up in it, he could be in trouble, couldn’t he?”

  Kindness softened Sergei’s face as he stared. “Kara, your uncle’s a partner in name only. The money that keeps that firm going comes from straight across the border. He has to know the kind of man he’s dealing with.”

  She nodded, her head dipping because she didn’t want to see pity in his eyes.

  After a long pause, Sergei said, “We’ll let the sheriff handle notifications through his channels. But as soon as word goes out, we have to keep you buttoned up tight here on the estate.”

  She cleared her throat and glanced up. “Do you really think Lucio might come after me here?”

  Sergei tapped the table. “He’s kept his hands clean. No dirt ever sticks to him. You’re a loose end he can’t afford to have walking free.”

  A chill snaked down her spine. “You keep talking about handling this problem for me, but what can you really do? Shouldn’t we be talking to the FBI or something?”

  He reached for her hand, enfolding it inside his. “Honey, we already have.”

  “But…” She shook her head. How could that be? Wouldn’t they have swarmed this place already?

  “We have connections. We’ve kept them apprised of everything that happened from the moment we found you in the camp.”

  Why hadn’t he bothered to mention that until now? Kara lifted her chin. “Why haven’t they come to talk to me?”

  “They will. And soon. But for now, they know you’re safe here, and we’re keeping them up to speed with everything we’re learning.”

  “What Serge means,” Eric said, “is that he’s been holding them off until you were ready to start that circus.”

  She blinked, staring at this man she now wondered if she knew at all. “And you can do that? Keep the FBI at bay?”

  Sergei’s mouth tightened.

  “Sweetheart, we have friends in high places,” Eric said with a crooked grin. “Friends who need favors from a company that flies beneath the radar when they need something done they can’t have reflect back on them.”

  “You do their dirty work.”

  Sergei leaned into her, a hand slipping around her waist. “I prefer to think of it as we can act without having to file for court orders for searches or wiretaps. We perform missions like the one that got you out of Mexico without starting wars.”

  “But that’s illegal,” she said in a small voice. Their reach and influence were a little frightening.

  Sergei shrugged. “We provide a necessary service.”

  Kara let go of a sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Let my team handle it,” he said softly, his gaze intent. “You have friends here.”

  “But I’m doing nothing. I don’t like feeling like a victim who has to be protected.”

  “You’re used to taking care of yourself. I get that.” He blew out a deep breath. “Can’t you let someone else shoulder the load just this once?”

  The possibility sounded nice. Letting him shoulder all the worry. And his offer was tempting. “Sounds like this situation could drag on for a while.”

  “Maybe months.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” she said, shaking her head, while inside she felt relief filter through her. Maybe they’d have more time. “I’m not used to being idle.”

  “Do you want a job?”

  Jonesy snorted.

  Sergei gave her a half smile. “He wasn’t keen on having to babysit Tilly when she first came here.” He jerked his chin toward his buddy. “But he found out she can be damn useful when he’s dealing with the locals. She’s from Bayou Vert.”

  “I’ve never been here before. I don’t know the town. That makes me kind of useless, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, but you shouldn’t. I know we kept you in the dark. At first, because we didn’t know who you were and whether you should be trusted. But that’s over. We’ll figure out something to keep you busy.”

  The chill settled inside her, at her core. She’d been so relieved at her rescue, so enamored of Sergei’s attention, she hadn’t been thinking straight. This was real. Her life would be on hold indefinitely. Every move monitored by the people seated around this table. She was dependent on them for her safety, for her shelter and her clothing. She was a job to them. Didn’t matter she wasn’t paying for their services. They’d taken on her cause. And she owed them. Everything. “I can’t sit like a parakeet in a cage for months.”

  Sergei laid his hand atop hers. She hadn’t known she’d fisted it until the warmth of his hand penetrated hers.

  “And you won’t. I promise. But you’ve been through a lot. Let us take care of you. Let me.”

  And wasn’t that the greatest seduction? Letting go of her pride? Of herself? He made it so tempting. She turned her hand and allowed him to intertwine their fingers. His gaze was steady, holding hers
so long, she knew he was waiting for an answer, but the only thing she could think to do was lean toward him, offering him a kiss.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sergei kept silent as his friends left them alone at the table. The kiss they’d shared had been sweet. Probably embarrassed the hell out of the others when they wouldn’t have batted an eye if he’d fucked her on the table. Not that they’d allow him to treat Kara like that. They seemed to all feel protective of her. Every one of them had made a point of letting him know how they expected him to treat her. Even Jonesy.

  First thing that morning, his taciturn friend had given him the stink eye. He’d been waiting at the breakfast table.

  “Couldn’t keep it in your pants?” he’d said, his tone low and deadly as he gave him a lethal sideways glare.

  Sergei’s jaw tightened as he met his friend’s stare. “It’s not your business. You watched?”

  “Had to make sure you treated her right.” Jonesy’s hand fisted on the table. “She was a fucking virgin. And in our care.”

  “I didn’t jump her.”

  “No, she asked for it,” Jonesy said slowly. “But what she really needed was comfort. You should have had a little more self-control.”

  “You weren’t there.”

  “Saw enough. She’s an innocent. We don’t fuck innocents.”

  Sergei clamped his jaw tighter and fought to keep his voice even. Did they think he wasn’t aware he’d crossed a line? “She’s a grown woman.”

  “And a virgin—until last night.”

  “I was gentle,” he said, his cheeks heating because this wasn’t any of Jonesy’s concern, but he did feel guilty.

  Jonesy shook his head, his lips lifting in a snarl. “That’s the only reason my boot’s not halfway up your ass, bro.”

  With that, he’d left the room, leaving Sergei to ruminate on his breakfast and his friend’s words.

  But something must have changed since that time. Jonesy had left her in Sergei’s care at the dock without any further words of warning. Had allowed his gazebo to be christened with their lust. Maybe his friends had decided to butt the hell out and let nature take its course. Maybe they figured it was already too late to protest. And if they’d been that concerned for her virtue, why the hell hadn’t they intervened the night before? Creating an excuse, a diversion to cause him to leave before he’d taken her would have been simple enough.

  Sergei suspected their show of concern was for the simple purpose of making sure he knew they were watching. That they’d be all over him if he hurt her. Which he’d never do. He’d rather cut off his own arm than harm her. But they’d backed off.

  Didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of the looks everyone had been giving him. Only Boone had kept his opinion to himself. But then, he hadn’t exactly been a white knight in relation to Tilly either. He hadn’t seduced her simply because she was smart and beautiful. She’d also been a means to an end to solving the mystery of his old girlfriend’s death.

  His friends sat throughout breakfast, keeping the censure out of their expressions, but he’d felt the chill. He wasn’t sure why they’d decided to mind their own business; maybe that had been Tilly’s doing. She liked Kara, and Sergei suspected her mother-hen instinct was at work, whether for Kara’s best interest or his, he wasn’t sure. The fact the guys hadn’t covered up Kara in a ring of protection was surprising.

  Perhaps her clothing at lunch had been the reason. They’d all known she was lovely, but the newly awakened aura of sensuality surrounding her changed the game—enhanced by her pretty new threads. Eric’s playful teasing and her reaction—melting naturally against him—had shifted things.

  They’d finally seen what he had all along. Kara was ripe for instruction. Too sexy to leave to someone else who’d never see her potential for pleasure.

  And knowing Kara worried that she wouldn’t find her place, that she didn’t belong, he could think of many more interesting ways to show her just how well she fit. With him.

  Remembering Tilly’s wily glance as she’d headed toward the cabins in the back, he decided now was as good a time as any to help keep Kara’s mind off her problems. “Do you like it here?” Sergei asked as they walked in a seemingly aimless route through the garden, her hand tucked inside his elbow.

  “It’s very nice, but…”

  “Remember, you can tell me anything.”

  “It’s a little strange. All these men around, here in the bayou. You’re all here to help your friend Boone do what?”

  “We’re family—most of us without families of our own. He said he needed help getting this place ready. Wanted to build a home where any of us could crash or live, depending on where we were in our lives. Jonesy likes construction projects. He’s supervising the renovations. And making sure surveillance equipment is well camouflaged. That’s his thing. The rest of us cycle in and out, depending on the job. It’s quiet here. Mostly.”

  Kara tilted her head to look directly into his face. “I read about the problems you had when you first got here.”

  “That’s over. And while Boone isn’t exactly the prodigal son returned to Bayou Vert, he’s no longer treated by the townspeople like he has the plague.”

  “So, why are you all still here?”

  Sergei shrugged. “Maybe we need a little downtime. A little peace.”

  “I know you run spec ops missions. Special operations,” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. “What’s that like?”

  “Most of the time, I plan for missions that never happen. Rescues that aren’t required because everyone plays according to the rules.”

  “And when they don’t?”

  He grunted. “You saw the result.”

  She was quiet for a few moments, her hand gliding over the top of a flowering bush. “It was a little brutal.”

  “A little?” he asked, a not-so-funny smile tugging at his lips. Did she think he’d been out of line? A monster?

  Her nose wrinkled. “I was trying not to be judgmental. I know those men at the camp weren’t good guys, but how do you do something like that, then come back here, where it’s so quiet?”

  Her direct gaze hid no revulsion, just genuine curiosity. He decided to answer her just as honestly. “You learn to shut it off.”

  Her head canted again, her gray eyes squinting as she stared up at him. “Shut what off? Feeling anything?”

  Sergei gazed upward at the sky and blew out a breath. “For me, I concentrate on the fact that those men we rescued, West and Campion, are safe at home in Dallas now with their families. I count that as a win for the good guys.”

  “Are they safe?” Her glance swung away but not before he noted the doubt clouding her expression. “Don’t they have to wonder whether the Omegas will pluck them up again?” Her brows drew together. “I read the news. That cartel doesn’t recognize borders.”

  “Chances are they won’t be bothered. Neither will be reassigned to Mexico. Security around the men still working in the Mexico offices has been supplemented. Unless someone gets careless, they should be fine.”

  “Supplemented… by you?”

  Sergei nodded. “By Black Spear, yes.”

  “But their kidnappings were strictly business. Nothing was personal about it. Not like with me.”

  His next nod was slower. “I hope you understand that’s why you’re still here. You’re not their usual victim. You don’t have money to pay a ransom or a family all that interested in your return.”

  “Whoa.” Her lips pursed. “That was harsh. We’re judging my uncle without hearing his side.”

  He snorted. “If you’d been my family, I wouldn’t have waited days to contact people who could help, whether the FBI or a private company like ours, to find you.” His grip tightened and he forced himself to loosen his muscles. “I wouldn’t have left a fucking stone unturned.”

  “You would have come after me yourself,” she said, her voice fading.

  Perhaps she realized now why he held her uncle in su
ch low esteem. “Yes.”

  She drew a deep breath and looked away. “I’m tired of thinking about it.”

  “Then don’t.” He gave her hot stare. “Come see what we’ve been up to.”

  * * *

  Kara rubbed her arms as Sergei pulled keys from his pockets and went to the first cabin, one of eleven—six on one side and five to the other—separated by a small common area, which was overgrown with grass, the square marked off with surveyor’s stakes and flags. The spot where a sixth cabin had stood was scorched, only a small stone chimney rising from the debris.

  The outside of the cabin they halted in front of was primitive—plain shaved planks, weathered a pretty gray. The porch was small, but with an overhanging roof. He opened the door and toggled the light switch.

  She blinked, glancing around the small area.

  Sergei watched her eyes widen. The interior was unexpected after the simple, rustic appearance of the exterior. The inside was designed like a microhouse, every niche and wall fulfilling a purpose. And this one was decorated like a sultan’s palace, fabric draping from the ceiling over a large chair without legs. Bolster cushions lined one wall for seating. Pillows were stacked, large and small. The colors were his favorite colors for her—ruby, emerald, sapphire, and citrine. And why he’d decided to show her this one first. Silky tassels were everywhere, including the ropes looped through gold brackets on the floor.

  A moment passed while she figured out what they were for, and then she blushed. Four brackets were bolted right through the Persian carpet, and perfectly spaced to hold a woman’s arms and legs spread open when the silky ropes were wrapped around tender wrists and ankles.

  Sergei came up behind her, his hands settling lightly on her shoulders. “Do you see why this place appeals?”

  She cleared her throat. “When will guests start coming?”

  “We’re in no rush. We want everything to be perfect. There are rooms in the house for people to gather. These are for private play. The bolsters in this cabin can be laid open for sleeping.”