Kings and Sinners

by Alta Hensley

  “A spanking?” She laughed loudly as they both bounced up and down and all around from the road—or lack of a road.

  “Nothin’ wrong with a good old-fashioned spanking,” Anson said with a large smile. He leaned back and appeared relaxed for the first time since the trip began. “You’ll soon see when I get your stubborn ass to Texas.”

  Natalia had to admit that she was enjoying the playful banter with Anson. They both needed it. Whatever it took to get them both to smile so they didn’t get swallowed up in the fear of the unknown, was what she would strive to do.

  “Can I wear my gingham dress and bloomers too?” she asked with a giggle. She batted her eyelashes with the utmost exaggeration and then turned on some southern twang to her accent. “You wouldn’t make me bare my poor little bottom before you give me my whoopin’, would ya?”

  “Oh, you keep joking,” Anson said with his own chuckle. “Now I’m going to make a point of spanking your ass.”

  Still using her fake southern accent, she continued, “Are you going to tan my hide with a wooden spoon while I’m bent over the kitchen table all before I have to churn the butter for the evening’s supper?”

  “Mark my words, Natalia…”

  “Ha! Please!” She laughed loudly again, but looked over at him and felt a small stirring inside. He was such a fucking alpha, but in a charming and entertaining way. She liked it. She even liked him.

  The road had ended and what she drove on now was nothing but rocks, holes, and roots jutting from the ground. A vehicle hadn’t been down this path in ages, and judging by how much the Jeep bounced around, she could safely guess no one had been down this way since her family was in power. When she didn’t see a large hole in front of them, the tire made contact, causing the Jeep to jolt and jerk so badly that her teeth rattled.

  “Jesus! Slow it down a bit,” Anson said, grimacing. “Injured man on board, remember?”

  She took her foot off the gas a bit, realizing she had been driving as fast as the Jeep could possibly go until now. Never once seeing a car following behind them, it was fair to say that Anson and she had escaped the city and the bounty… for now.

  “Sorry.” She glanced over. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “It just hurts like a son of a bitch is all.”

  Not thinking, she reached out and laid her palm over his left hand in comfort. Fingers that had been clenched against his thigh instantly relaxed and turned to wrap around hers. The warmth of his palm engulfed hers and he tightened his grip, not allowing her to pull away—not that she wanted to.

  Hand in hand, Anson asked, “Why? Tell me why you want revenge so bad on Montez.”

  She saw no reason to keep him in the dark—not when he’d put his own life in danger to rescue her—not once, not twice, but three times. If anyone deserved the truth, it was this man. Gathering her thoughts, she said, “He and his cartel killed my family. I lost almost all to his deadly attack. I vowed on that day that he would pay and made it my life mission to do so. I trained so fucking hard…” She paused for a long moment. “I trained so hard, only to fail.”

  “Like I said before, you did not fail.” Anson softly squeezed her hand. “Your mission is not over, and we will make Montez pay for all he has done.”

  Sighing deeply, she said, “I don’t know. I have to be honest and tell you that I am tired. Really, really tired.”

  “You mentioned training. What kind of training?”

  She had never told anyone this before. It was her secret and yet, again she found no reason to hide it from Anson. “When I was sixteen, I joined a private organization called OSA. They were anti-government… a resistance of sorts. Anyway, I learned how to shoot, how to fight, how to outsmart, how to do field surgery. Hell, I even learned how to make bombs.”

  “So OSA sent you to Moscow? How does an Argentinian resistance group get involved with a sex trafficking ring?” Anson asked, obviously not making sense of what she was saying.

  “No,” she said as she shook her head. “I never agreed with OSA’s beliefs and politics and was only using them as a means to grow more powerful both physically and mentally. After a few years with OSA, I had found a way to reach Montez. I joined another private company located out of Chile that was trying to crack down on sex trafficking. Montez was known for buying and even selling sex slaves. That was my in. Anyway, long story short, I saw this organization as a way to reach Montez and not have him suspect a thing. It was risky, but I knew if I could become one of his slaves—”

  “You would be able to get close to him,” Anson said.

  “Exactly.”

  “So you purposefully placed yourself in Moscow hoping Montez would buy you?”

  She couldn’t blame him for sounding a bit incredulous. “I know; it was a risk as well. But I was counting on the fact that Montez liked his Latin women. I knew that I’d likely be the only Latin slave in the group, so was counting on him purchasing me.” She took a deep breath. “And well… the rest you know.”

  “And your family was the Alvarez Cartel?”

  “Yes,” she said, glad that he’d changed the subject as she veered left down another jagged and overgrown road. “I was once the daughter of a very powerful drug czar. Until the day that Montez slaughtered him and the rest of my family.” She paused and studied him. “But you know all this. I’m sure you’ve done all your research on me.”

  Anson nodded. “I have and I know most of it. But I appreciate you trusting me enough to confide the details.”

  “I don’t trust people. At least, not normally.”

  “Well, you can trust in me. I know that’s hard to believe, but you can.”

  Not wanting to admit that she actually did trust Anson, she decided to turn the tables. “So now it’s your turn.” She looked down and noticed her hand still held in his, resting on his broad thigh. “Why did you come here to rescue me?” Lifting her gaze, she saw his eyes on hers and something in their depths had her turning her head back to the windshield. It was another moment before he answered.

  “When we went to rescue Zoya, we knew then that each one of the women deserved to be rescued. No one should have to live out their days as a sex slave. And we made a promise to Zoya.”

  “I’m going to call bullshit,” she said simply. “There’s something more. I can see it in your persistence. I can feel it. Why are you down here rescuing me? Truth.”

  Anson took a deep breath. “The minute I saw you on stage, I was pulled to you. Your eyes. Your fucking eyes have literally haunted my dreams since that awful night I had to let you go with Montez.” She turned to look at him again to see his expression growing dark. “I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. I hated every single day, hour, and minute that I knew you were trapped with that fucking asshole. I was terrified that I made a huge mistake by letting you go that night in Moscow and you would die because of it. You want the truth, Natalia? You have consumed me. I feel like I knew you even though we had never met. I felt a connection more powerful than I have ever felt before. I needed to rescue you as much as I needed to breathe. I felt like I fucking loved you even though I had never even heard what your voice sounded like.”

  His words surprised her, yet she knew he was telling the truth. He had just revealed his heart and soul. Anson Steele was a good man and wanted nothing more than her safety. No hidden agenda. He simply wanted her… safe.

  “I’m so sorry, Anson. You are here, hurt, because of me. And you are right. We are driving to a jungle with only a few days’ worth of supplies and could very well die. I did this to you.”

  “Shh,” he said with a squeeze of her hand that she wondered if he would ever let go of. “No more apologies. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I came here to save you, and that’s what I plan to do. We will get out of this place. We will get back to Texas, to Zoya, and to my family. I promise you.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then we work on helping you find light in the thick darkness your life has been.
”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  “I promise you that as well, Natalia. We will help you find the good in life again. I promise.” His last word was said with a big yawn. Anson rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He suddenly looked very tired and very pale. With the pressure of his hand squeezing hers, the strength in his voice, the clarity and passion showing in his eyes, she’d momentarily forgotten that he was injured.

  “We don’t have much further,” she said, hiding her worry. “You rest, because when we get to home sweet home, you have a panther to hunt, or a boa to gut. I don’t care for the taste of spiders.”

  “Very funny. You joke, but that very well could become our reality.” He yawned again as he settled his body into the seat, still never letting go of her hand. “Take us home, Natalia.”

  Chapter 9

  Anson woke, the stillness surrounding him instantly telling him he was alone. Bolting upright, he groaned, pressing his hand to the thick bandage above his elbow.

  “Natalia?” he called, scanning the area and seeing nothing but jungle and hearing nothing but the occasional call of some wild creature and the faint ticking of the Jeep’s engine as it cooled. It took him another sweep of the area to discern that there was some sort of structure through the trees. It was nothing like he’d expected, and he had a feeling that he was seeing the good part. The sight of Natalia stepping out of the foliage had him releasing the breath he’d been unaware he was holding.

  “Honey, I’m home,” he called out, gingerly swinging his leg out the door, his left hand braced on the Jeep’s frame, the other still held pressed to his chest by the improvised sling.

  “Well, we’re here, anyway,” she said, obviously agreeing that home wasn’t exactly how she’d describe their location. “At least it’s still standing… mostly.”

  Anson stepped out of the Jeep as she reached him. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’m used to roughing it.” He was pleased to see his assurance was met with a small smile. Natalia reached into the back of the Jeep, grabbing a box of groceries. “Here, let me help,” Anson said.

  Her ponytail bounced as she shook her head. “This is the last of it.”

  Anson looked behind him to see that she was correct. There was nothing left in the Jeep except for a red gas can. She’d obviously been quite the busy little bee while he’d been zonked out. Exactly who was recuing whom here? He shook his head, pride wanting to demand she allow him to take the box, intelligence allowing him to admit that, for now, she was in charge.

  “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  “Can’t wait,” he said, giving her a grin as he slowly followed her into the jungle. The house blended extremely well with its surroundings. Dark wood and shingles were covered with growth, testifying to the fact that man might build upon the land but nature was quick to reclaim what was left untended.

  “Careful, that board is a bit soft,” she cautioned as she stepped up onto the porch before turning to face him.

  Taking it slow, Anson avoided the second step altogether, testing the next board’s strength before settling his entire weight on the step. Natalia disappeared into the dark interior, and he followed to find the air far less stale than he’d expected. The reasoning became clear when he saw that window panes were broken and the door didn’t completely close behind him. Humidity had evidently warped the wood, and invading plant life had pushed up between floorboards and slithered through windows alike.

  “I’m afraid it doesn’t look much like it did when I was last here,” Natalia said, moving across the room to place the box on a counter that already held most of the Jeep’s contents.

  Anson nodded and took a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. “It reminds me of the treehouse I had as a kid. Rustic and yet sort of… cool.”

  Her laugh had him chuckling as well. “Are you always such a horrid liar?” she asked, beginning to empty the box’s contents, placing items on shelves hanging on the wall.

  “Are you disparaging my childhood memories?” he asked, moving towards her now that he could actually see. “I’ll have you know, I spent a lot of time in that treehouse. My brothers and I pretended we were everyone from Robinson Crusoe to James Bond.” He reached into the box and then handed her a can of beans as she looked at him. Shrugging, he grinned. “I know, it sounds silly, but we had a great time.”

  “It doesn’t sound silly,” she countered, accepting the can and then another as they worked together to unload the box. “It sounds like it was fun.”

  Anson could hear what sounded like longing in her tone. Knowing her childhood had been brutally cut short by the same man who was hunting them now had his gut tightening. Until Montez was no longer walking the same planet, she’d never be truly free. He was seriously pissed that his injury was keeping him from going on the offensive—instead, he’d need to hide out until he could move without sucking in a gasp every time he lifted his arm or turned too suddenly. Knowing he had to give his body time to at least begin healing, he was determined to make the best of the situation.

  “It was a lot of fun,” he offered with a grin. “But that was a long time ago and I’m sure we can come up with some far more interesting roles to play.”

  She turned to take the next item and then pulled her hand away as if he were offering her a snake. “What sort of roles?” she asked, and he watched her eyes narrow as she looked from his hand to his face. Once he remembered her earlier taunt involving a wooden spoon and her bending over for its application to her bare behind, he grinned and also looked at the wooden spoon he’d found in the box.

  “Ah, that’s the secret of pretend. Take this, for instance,” he said, flipping the long handled wooden spoon up into the air and catching it again, noticing her eyes followed its every movement, as if a bit surprised that he did so with ease—left handed. “To most people this is just a wooden spoon, right?”

  He paused, forcing her to fill the silence, a little surprised when she did so with far more than a simple one-word answer.

  “It is exactly that, a wooden spoon used to stir things when cooking.” She reached for it but he pulled his hand back, shaking his head.

  “Nope, that’s only if you have no imagination. To anyone who does, this can be a sword to fight off fire-breathing dragons, or an oar used to guide a canoe down the Amazon river. It can be a magic wand to cast spells, a toothpick for some giant or…”

  Crack!

  Natalia screamed and jumped at least a foot when he slammed the spoon down hard on the counter, the loud crack resonating in the room.

  “What the hell!” she said, her chest heaving as she stared at him, her eyes huge as saucers.

  “Or the kiss of death when least expected,” he continued, lifting the spoon to reveal the squashed carcass of a rather huge spider, hairy legs still twitching in its death throes. “Dinner?”

  “Oh, God, that’s… that’s just gross!”

  He laughed as she shuddered and tossed him a roll of paper towels. “You know what they say, I am the hunter… you, babe, are the cook.”

  “I’ll starve before touching that!”

  Anson laughed again, cleaning up the mess as her eyes darted around the room as if waiting for the spider’s friends to come calling. “Afraid of arachnids?” he asked with a grin.

  “Terrified,” she admitted, giving another shudder.

  Only a bit disappointed that the spider’s appearance had cut off his tale about the spoon’s infinite uses, Anson tossed the towel away and helped her finish unpacking. Once done, he said, “I’ve got to admit, I’m a little surprised that your father would allow his princess to stay here. I mean, rustic is one thing, but this is just the bare basics.”

  “I didn’t even think about that when I was a little girl,” Natalia admitted. “It was nice to get away from the house and all the people to come here. And, to be honest, we brought servants with us who did all the cleaning and cooking. My mother was
n’t much of a fan of either.”

  Anson could believe it as the stove looked like it belonged in an episode of Little House on the Prairie, but as long as they could find firewood, they could cook. They discovered there was no longer any working generator, which meant no electricity, but Natalia opened a cabinet and pulled out candles and kerosene lanterns so that they would have light once it got dark. The real problem was going to be the lack of running water.

  “Well, at least there’s a river not far from here,” Natalia said with a sigh after turning the tap on and off several times. “We’ve got some bottled water and we can boil more, I suppose.”

  “I’ve got some purification tablets in my bag,” Anson supplied. “We’ll be fine for a few days. Have you checked the bedrooms yet?”

  “No, I was a little afraid to but… come on, we can look together—unless you need to rest?”

  “Lead the way,” Anson said, ready to see what else their home had to offer.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” she muttered, coming around the counter and then surprising him when she reached to pick up the wooden spoon.

  Anson grinned. “That’s the spirit! Are you pretending to be some gorgeous Amazon warrior, ready to do battle?”

  “Hell, no!” she said, thrusting the spoon at him. “I’m the terrified Argentinian woman who is counting on you to squash any other unwelcome intruders.”

  Taking the spoon, Anson again flipped it in the air and caught it, shaking his head. “I see that I’m going to have to work on getting you into role playing,” he said, watching her roll her eyes. “And not that kind of ‘roll’—”

  “Anson Steele, if you’re thinking of using that on my ass, I’m warning you that you’ll lose an arm!”

  “Why, Ms. Alvarez, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you are either a little leery of the fact that I’m ambidextrous, or feeling quite guilty about something.” He quirked his eyebrow and then shook his head. He slowly lowered the spoon and then tapped it against his thigh. He watched her shake her head but also saw the flush that crept up her neck to settle in her cheeks. He slapped it harder, the sound causing her to start.