by Maren Smith
She had been so close to confessing everything in the hot tub but she knew that the moment she did, it would all be over. He would hate her for lying to him and she’d wanted to prolong the inevitable for as long as she could. One more night, she’d told herself. One more night in his arms, and then she’d confess.
The bus to Granger would be leaving at around lunchtime, and there was a chance Carmen would be on it, taking with him her only real shot at finding her brother. As much as she wanted to stay here in Master Eamon’s bed forever, she had to stop being selfish and find William.
Her heart aching at the thought that she’d never do this again, she pressed the softest kiss to Master Eamon’s hard chest and slipped quietly out of his arms. She knew she owed him an explanation, or an apology, at least, but she couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t watch those amazing green eyes fill with disappointment and anger and know that she’d caused it.
It would break her.
Besides, she told herself over and over again, he was a Master of the Castle. He got paid to do with strangers what he’d done with her. It was his job, for Christ’s sake. So, while she would cherish the memories of their brief time together forever, he would probably forget she’d ever existed and move on to someone else as soon as she left the resort.
Blinking back the sudden tears, she padded silently into the bathroom, deliberately ignoring the Jacuzzi and the memories it held.
As soon as she’d finished washing her hands, she crept back into the bedroom and made a beeline for the lounge. Her uniform was there somewhere; she vaguely remembered carrying it up as Master Eamon had carried her.
Another memory to cherish.
She spotted her clothes strewn haphazardly on the sofa and hurried to put everything on, trying to drag her thoughts away from the man still sleeping in the next room and formulate a plan. She’d skip the morning roll call, that much was certain, but should she go to the salon first to get her hair and make-up tidied up, or head straight to the Café for some coffee and a muffin? She and Eamon had been so wrapped up in each other the previous evening, they hadn’t stopped to eat. Not that she was really hungry, but she didn’t want to pass out in the event that she did find Carmen.
She’d gotten so close yesterday.
With a last look around Master Eamon’s neat apartment, she picked up her shoes and snuck out, trying to ignore the squeezing pain in her heart at the thought that she’d never be going back there again.
A couple of hours later, she was in the Café, her feet already beginning to throb in those blasted heels. She’d stopped by the salon to have her make-up redone and her hair straightened, figuring she’d only attract unnecessary attention if she skulked about looking like she’d spent the night on a park bench—or being screwed senseless, as was actually the case.
The rest of the time, she’d gone from room to room, trying desperately to find Carmen. Unfortunately, both he and his henchman remained frustratingly absent.
Taking a sip of the creamy latte, she toed off her heels under the table and tried to ignore the ever-increasing urge to return to Master Eamon’s apartment and slip back under the covers with him. Maybe she should tell him what was going on. Maybe he had the clout to actually help her.
And, truth be told, she was tired of lying to him. Intimidating and broody he may be, but he had never treated her with anything but fairness and respect, and her growing feelings for him only exacerbated the guilt she felt when she imagined how learning the truth from someone else would make him feel.
He would find out one way or another, she was sure of it.
Picking at a delicious, zesty orange muffin, she worked her way down her coffee and hardened her resolve. He deserved to hear the truth from her. Even if he didn’t care about her any more than he did about any of his other sexual partners, he had spent every spare moment with her over the past couple of days, and the more she thought about it, the more she felt like she owed it to him to be the one to explain. Maybe he’d even understand. Not forgive, but understand. Especially if he had siblings of his own.
Trying not to dwell on the realization that she was completely and utterly infatuated with a man she knew almost nothing about—not even his last name, maybe not even his real first name—she drained her latte and finished the last bite of her muffin.
You can do this, she coached herself as she tossed the containers away and headed for the exit. And, if you’re lucky, you might even make it back up to his place before he wakes up. He’ll never know you were gone.
“I thought I might find you here,” said a stern voice.
Tasha’s blood froze as she took him in; leaning casually against the door jamb, his thickly muscled, tattooed arms folded across his vast, t-shirt clad chest, his square jaw clenched, his penetrating green gaze practically devouring her. “Hello, Sir,” she squeaked. “I was just coming to find you. Er…” She looked around desperately. “Would you like some breakfast?”
Chapter 13
Eamon’s relief was almost as great as his anger had been when he’d woken to find her gone—again. And, as the minutes ticked by and he was unable to locate her in the Dungeon, in the kitchens, in the Rainbow Room, he’d grown ever more frantic. The twenty-four hours Dominick had granted him were dwindling fast and if he didn’t find her, he’d have not only the Dungeon Master but also Marshall to answer to.
Finally deciding he’d be able to think more clearly if he shut up his rumbling stomach, he’d headed to the Café—only to see her sauntering toward him, obviously deep in thought.
“Yes,” he said slowly, raking her with his gaze, resisting the urge to throttle her for giving him such a scare. “I came here to get some breakfast, actually. Please join me.”
“I’ve already had a muffin but I’ll sit with you,” she said, as if his last statement had been a request rather than a demand.
Be careful, he told himself as he lined up to order. This is not the time to show your anger and risk frightening her off. Her hand brushed his and he had to resist a sudden urge to take it and wrap his fingers around her own. “I take it you went to roll call this morning?” he said casually as they waited in the queue.
She let out an uneasy laugh. “Of course. I wouldn’t have left so early otherwise.”
“It was a long night,” he agreed, his cock twitching at the memory of what it had felt like to be buried so deep in her tight little pussy, her even tighter little ass, the way she’d begged him to please, please stop making her come…
Taking a deep breath, he ordered some coffee and a bagel. “You want anything else?” he asked Tasha.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“That’s it then,” he told the girl behind the counter. “Put it on my tab.”
“Of course, Master Eamon,” she breathed reverently, flicking a shiny blonde lock of hair over her shoulder.
Why couldn’t his dick be twitching about her instead? he thought ruefully, enjoying the way she lowered her eyes when addressing him. “Thanks.” He was slightly mollified to catch the shadows which flitted across Tasha’s eyes as she watched their brief exchange.
She might be lying about a whole heap of things, but it was comforting to think that his feelings for her might genuinely be reciprocated. Up until now, neither of them had discussed their emotions in any depth at all. Instead, they had let their bodies do the talking. And a woman’s body didn’t lie, he thought, admiring the livid mark his teeth had left on Tasha’s neck. Her desire for him, at least, was genuine.
His order was fulfilled and he threaded his way through the tables to one near the back, Tasha following him and sitting down in the chair directly opposite his.
“Did you sleep well?” he said, unwrapping his bagel.
“I didn’t sleep very much,” she said carefully, her lips curving into a small smile, “but yes, I did sleep well, thank you.”
“And how is your ass feeling this morning?”
She wriggled in her seat, as if testing it. “Good.
A little tender.”
“Excellent.” He was cursing this awkward small talk and just wondering how to begin the conversation he knew they needed to have when she met his eyes and he realized she was crying, tears slipping silently down her pale cheeks.
“I was actually coming to see you,” she began in a tremulous voice, “because I have something to say. And I’d really appreciate it if you could just listen and let me get it all out before saying anything.”
“All right,” he said.
“The trouble is, I’m not sure where to begin. I… Okay, look, a couple weeks ago, my little brother went missing…”
The murmur of conversation and clatter of plates around them faded into white background noise as Eamon listened to her talk. She described how her brother had gone missing. How she’d spotted the man she knew was responsible and, incredibly, decided to follow him. How that had brought her to the Castle and she’d been mistaken for a new hire and shunted off to orientation. She talked and talked and as she did so, he ran the gamut of emotions: anger about her lies, fear for her safety, worry for her brother, astonishment that she’d had the guts to essentially chase a criminal halfway across the country, fury at the position she’d put him and his colleagues in by not disclosing her lack of BDSM experience when she’d first entered the Castle…
“Please believe me, I really, really hated having to be dishonest, but I didn’t have a choice. I would have been thrown out of here the moment I told the truth and then I might never get another chance to find William.” She had stopped crying but was watching him closely.
His cream cheese bagel still untouched, Eamon was gripping his thighs under the table in an effort to steady himself. He tried to sort out his thoughts. “I understand that,” he said tightly, “but did you ever stop to think that I might be able to help you?”
“That’s why I’m telling you now,” she said quietly. “I saw them yesterday—Carmen and that guy who’s always with him—and was going to follow them into the gardens but then you stopped me. I haven’t seen them again yet but I know I have at least until the bus goes at lunchtime to find them. They might not even be leaving today.”
“What exactly were you going to do when you caught up with them in the gardens?”
“I’m not sure.” Her gaze dropped to the tabletop. “Ask them about William, I guess. Beg? I don’t know.”
Eamon ran a hand over his head, barely able to contain his anger. “You suspect this guy is dangerous enough to have possibly murdered your brother, and you think you can just stroll up to him in the gardens and ask him whether that’s true? Are you that naïve, or just plain stupid?” It all came out much harsher than he’d intended and she shrank back, her dark velvet eyes brimming with tears once again.
“William and I don’t have any parents,” she said. “I’m all he’s got. And I’m sorry if you don’t think I handled things well, but it’s not like this is a common situation for me either, you know? I couldn’t think what else to do.” Shoving back her chair, she got to her feet.
“Wait,” Eamon said. “Sit back down and let’s talk about this like adults.”
She shook her head, the tears flying off her face with the movement. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I really am sorry about lying to you and Lishy and everyone else. I… had an amazing time with you, which I really didn’t deserve to have. But I-I just can’t bear to see that look on your face right now. I need to be alone to think, just for a little bit, okay? I promise I’ll come find you very soon, but right now, I just… I can’t.” And with that she was off, cannoning into people as she fled the Café, seemingly blinded by tears.
Eamon jumped up to follow her but by the time he rounded the corner, she had disappeared.
Fuck.
Tasha stumbled into the ladies’ bathroom, barricaded herself in a cubicle, and sobbed and sobbed. It was all too much. Even though she’d known he’d look at her that way, those avocado green eyes filled with regret, disappointment and disbelief, actually seeing it had been even worse than she’d imagined. And there’d been something else reflected in his piercing gaze. Pity. That was probably the worst thing of all.
Yanking out reams of toilet tissue, she blew her nose several times, took a deep, shuddering breath, and tried to pull herself together. It would soon be noon. The bus would be leaving. As much as she wanted to crawl into bed and allow herself to fall apart, she didn’t have time. Nor did she have anywhere private where she could do that. The Little Maids’ dorm with its thirty odd beds was hardly a suitable place to nurse a broken heart. She briefly considered trying to find Lishy, but she just couldn’t bear the thought of even talking about Master Eamon quite yet. It was all too raw.
She slipped back out of the cubicle and stared at herself in the mirror above the sinks. Her mascara had run, causing black streaks on her cheekbones, and she rubbed those away, wishing her feelings were as easy to remove.
With a final deep breath, she squared her shoulders and headed back to the hallways of the Castle. If Carmen and company were leaving today, they’d surely be checking out soon. She’d try to find them beforehand, and if she couldn’t, she’d simply hover near the exit through which they’d have to pass to get to the bus. Easy. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before.
There was no sign of either man in any of the rooms she ducked her head into. On she went, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t run into Master Eamon, hoping against hope that she would, that he’d take her in his powerful arms, crush her to his chest and—
Tasha stopped dead in her tracks. A man was coming toward her down the hallway, and from afar, he looked very similar to Carmen’s companion. Her heart pounding and her palms suddenly clammy, she flattened herself into a nearby alcove, peeking around it to confirm.
It was him. It was definitely him. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark, with a glittering pink earring completely at odds with his otherwise intimidating appearance.
Biting down her fear, taking a deep breath, she waited until he was level with her and reached out, grabbing his vest. Taken by surprise but with lightning reflexes, he grabbed her wrist, whirled around and slammed her against the wall, his free hand wrapped menacingly around her throat.
“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” he snarled, his eyes blazing.
Tasha was so scared she nearly passed out, but she forced herself to think of William. “M-my b-brother,” she stammered, her voice strangled. “William Lewis. D-do you know h-him?”
The man cocked his head, obviously trying to place her. To her immense relief, his grip on her throat lessened slightly, allowing her to gulp down some air. Strange, it made her so wet when Master Eamon did it, but this was completely different. Why does everything come back to him? she wondered.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly, “doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Will owed C-Carmen money,” she added hastily. “B-but he didn’t have enough to pay him back. He disappeared two weeks ago. Tall, early twenties, light brown, longish hair. Has a pierced eyebrow…”
The man hesitated, obviously torn about whether or not to speak.
“Please,” she begged, sensing a weak spot. “He’s the only f-family I have.” Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back furiously.
“Look,” he said in a low voice, finally removing his hand from her throat but still trapping her against the wall with his grip on her wrist, “your brother is safe, okay? He’s in witness protection.”
Tasha couldn’t assimilate that information properly. She was too scared, too emotional, too surprised. “What?”
“The little idiot didn’t just email you to let you know that he was going to see Carmen, he emailed the cops, too.”
She simply stared up at him. The confusion must have been evident on her face because he gave an exasperated sigh.
“How did you come to be here?”
“I followed you,” she admitted.
His eyes widened in surprise. “From Wabasha?”
“Fuck,” he said. “I never even noticed! You a cop, an undercover agent or something?”
“No,” she said quickly, “please believe me, I don’t want to make any trouble. I just want to know whether he’s okay or whether he’s… he’s…” She trailed off, the lump in her throat making her unable to voice her deepest fear.
“He’s not dead.” The man glanced up and down the hall, tugged her back into the alcove and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m an undercover agent, all right? Your idiot brother emailed the cops, saying he was going to see Carmen about getting an extension for his debt. The cops then got in touch with me because Carmen isn’t a very patient guy, you get me?”
Tasha nodded, still trying to wrap her brain around what she was hearing.
“I’ve been with Carmen for years, collecting enough information to make a case, which we’re this close to breaking.” He held up his thumb and forefinger. “Long story short, William agreed to turn state witness but he had to go into hiding immediately. He was ordered not to contact anybody he knows—including family—until all this has blown over. But I can assure you, he’s safe.”
“Promise?” she croaked, finally losing the battle and allowing the tears to roll down her face.
“I swear it.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you followed us all the way here. The plane, a hire car, the bus…”
“William’s okay,” she whispered, hoping that if she said it aloud she might start to believe it. The relief was so overwhelming, only the man’s iron grip on her wrist prevented her from sinking to her knees.
“You’re either absolutely brilliant, or a complete fucking fool,” the guy said. “Let me know if you ever want to train as an agent.”
Tasha bit her lip. Despite the inherent compliment, part of that comment was too close to what Master Eamon had said about her following Carmen and this man into the gardens. “What’s your name?” she said suddenly.
“Mario.”
