by Maren Smith
With her head down, she looked nothing like the woman Carmen would have recognized. She would only have to manage mealtimes, and once she knew…
Should he tell her? It went against all his training and instincts to blow his cover. Yet she’d successfully kept the secret of her friend Ashley’s murder for two years. If she knew what he was doing, would the dull glint of resignation fade from her eyes? Would those blue and green orbs flash with happiness he’d never seen from her? He’d settle for relief. He didn’t deserve to see her joy.
Why hadn’t she spilled the beans when she first saw him and Carmen arrive? As he looked down on her bowed head, he realized the woman at his feet had a core of fucking steel. If she’d told, Carmen would have hurt her friends and coworkers. She was giving up her life to protect them, or thought she was. He knew seasoned agents who would be pissing themselves if they were in her position.
Yeah, he had to tell her. If he could convince her to be his ally…
Her handler dropped the chain he’d been holding and gestured to him. Flint followed, curious about what the man would say.
Once they reached the corridor, her handler leaned close and whispered, “I’m Master David, and I manage the Gorean program for the Castle. Holly had a panic attack early this afternoon and left a bleeding scratch on one of the other Masters. She swears she’s fine, but if you wish for another kajira, one will be provided.”
“Did you punish her?” He didn’t want to know the answer. If Master David had touched a hair on her head for an absolutely understandable fear response, this resort was going to be short an employee. Flint would make him sorry he’d ever picked up a crop.
His dark eyes going flat and mean, Master David said, “While she was cropped for an unrelated reason, a reaction to fear is not cause for punishment. I suggest you remember that before I give you one of my kajirae.”
The tension drained from Flint’s body and his shoulders dropped. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the trouble a fight with a resident Master would create, but nobody was going to lay a hand on his Holly. “Good. Thank you. I couldn’t agree more.”
Master David nodded in satisfaction. “I’m glad we can agree on that.” Giving Flint a wry grin, he added, “You might also consider sending her for a manicure. She gave Master Grimsley a wicked scratch on the side of his neck. The nurse had to use butterfly closures and give him a tetanus shot.”
Flint barked out a laugh. Holly wasn’t entirely helpless, it seemed. He made a mental fist pump in her direction. “Maybe I should have arranged for a manicure for her.”
“It’s up to you, Master Miguel.” David glanced at his watch and scowled. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted with your kajira, but let me know if you have any problems. I have another—”
“No, Holly is perfect. I’m sure we’ll do fine.” She was going to keep her claws intact.
“All right. Enjoy your stay with us.”
Flint waited until the man walked away and returned to his room, shutting and locking the door behind him as he went through the few commands he remembered from the last time he’d encountered a kajira. She hadn’t moved from her pose, though her shoulders trembled as he walked by her. Shit.
He sat down on the bed, content for the moment to watch her. God, she was gorgeous, despite that awful red hair. “Holly, look at me.”
She sighed and lifted her head, her eyes welling with tears, though none fell. “If you’re quite done fucking with me, I’d appreciate it if you’d kill me and get it over with.”
“Go into the bathroom and wait for me, kajira.”
Rising gracefully to her feet, she walked toward the bathroom. “Good idea. It’ll be easier to clean up the blood. Heaven forbid you leave a mess for housekeeping.”
He snorted hard enough for it to hurt. God, she was funny. Even walking to what she thought would be her execution, she snarked. He hadn’t known that about her. The door closed behind her and he stripped off his suit jacket, belatedly realizing he’d forgotten to get his costume as he walked into the bathroom after her.
Holly huddled in the corner closest to the shower, her eyes glittering with moisture. She flinched as he reached past her to turn on the water so the noise would cover their conversation. He sat down on the toilet and patted his lap.
“Come sit, Holly. I have something to tell you.”
“Mario, you can’t possibly have anything to say that would interest me right now. Just get it over with, will you?”
“My name isn’t Mario—”
“Fine. Miguel, asshole, douchebag, Igor, whatever. Just do it.”
Now was not the time to laugh. He kept telling himself that as he reached out and snagged her wrist to pull her down on his lap. “My name is Special Agent Flint Turner, FBI. I—”
“Oh, bullshit, Mario. You just wanted to cop a feel before you off me. Are you done yet?” She struggled to pull away and he wrapped an arm around her middle to hold her still.
“I’ve been undercover with Carmen in an attempt to learn the source of weapons he’s been funneling to Mexico. I can’t arrest him unless I can also stop the flood of guns. There’s also evidence he’s engaged in sex trafficking, and I’d like to get more solid proof on that, too.”
Holly huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Fine. You want to go after Carmen and try to undercut him, be my guest. It’s a Russian, or was two years ago. His name is Vasyli, but I don’t know his last name. He’s about forty, heavyset and bald, with brown eyes. As far as the trafficking goes, I don’t know.”
She turned her hand and pinched Flint’s inner thigh hard enough to make his eyes water. His arms loosened to protect his groin and she escaped. Two fucking goddamned years of soul crushing work, and all he’d had to do was find a certain woman with mismatched eyes? The pinch hurt less than knowing he could have put Carmen away years ago if her information was correct.
“How did you find this out?”
Her face wrinkled into a hateful sneer. “I listen at doors. You must have caught me at it when you let that bastard shoot my best friend.” She turned away from him, her arms wrapped around her belly. “Not that I believe a word of your bullshit, but why did you let me go that night? You could have told Carmen what I saw, and you didn’t.”
Sighing, he lowered his head and rested his elbows on his knees. “I couldn’t save Ashley, but I could save you. All I had to do was insult you and make Carmen think he could do better. He dumped you, none the wiser about what you’d seen.”
“Why me, Mario? Why not any of the other girls he had before and after?”
He lifted his head to stare at her back, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “My name is Flint Turner.”
“You didn’t answer my question, and I honestly don’t give a fuck what your name is.” She threw up her hands and turned to face him, helpless fury tightening every line of her body. “Did you save me that night for some purpose?”
Holly definitely had thorns. Big, nasty ones, too. He pulled out his phone and entered his passcode and thumbprint to access a hidden directory. It was possible to crack the device, but unlikely in his current assignment. The encrypted software was his only link to his handler. Holding the phone up to her, he allowed her to see the man he used to be in the form of his FBI badge.
When her eyes widened in shocked disbelief, he said, “My name is Special Agent Flint Turner. I grew up on a cattle ranch near Alva, Oklahoma. My daddy is a rancher, and my mother is a schoolteacher from Jamaica. I will protect you from Carmen, but you have to listen and obey me.”
Still staring at the image on the phone, she said, “You never answered my question. Why did you let me go?”
He exited the software and cleared the memory before pocketing his phone. “Because I could, and I wanted to.”
“Why?” She took a step forward, though she kept her distance.
“I wanted to give you a chance to get away. Get married, have a few kids. Forget all about Carmen and me.” He laughed and looked away. “
My handler gave me ten kinds of hell for letting a possible witness go but it was worth it.” Standing, he approached her slowly and held out a hand. “If the information you gave me is still true, I promise Carmen Massino will never take another free breath as long as he lives.”
Was it true? She stared down at Mario’s hand. No, Miguel. No, Flint! Christ, how many names did one man need? For what purpose would he lie? Maybe he just wanted to draw out the torture; give her hope for eventual freedom from the fear of Carmen. It would totally be in character for Carmen, but she didn’t know Mario. He’d arrived just before Carmen broke up with her.
Her head ached from a combination of stress and low blood sugar. She hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast and it was evening now. The timing definitely worked out. Carmen had been perfectly fine with her curves and mismatched eyes right up until Flint had made his nasty comments.
Fuck. She could kick herself for getting involved with Carmen in the first place. He’d said all the right words and treated her like a queen at first. By the time she’d realized what he was, it had been too late to escape. Even then, she’d tried to convince herself she was wrong about him. She couldn’t have left without tipping Carmen off, even before he murdered Ashley.
Should she take a chance on Mario? No, Flint, for fuck’s sake! Did it matter if she trusted him? If he was feeding her bullshit, she was dead anyway. If he wasn’t…
If he wasn’t, it was a chance to put Carmen away forever and save lives. She heaved out a breath and leaned against the sink. It was worth the chance. Steam filled the bathroom, obscuring her vision. She turned the tap to cold but left it running.
“All right. What do you want from me?”
“For tonight? Nothing. Aside from going downstairs for supper, I want you to stay in this room. Deadbolt the door behind me if I have to leave, and only answer for me.” He tapped out SOS on the porcelain toilet lid with his knuckles. “You can answer when you hear that.”
“Morse code?” Okay, maybe that was a little evidence that Flint was who he claimed to be.
He nodded in approval. “Smart lady. It means—”
“SOS. I know. Will Carmen know it?”
“No, probably not. The skill isn’t common these days, which begs the question about where you learned it.”
She shrugged and felt her face get hot under his piercing brown eyes. “My sister and I used to tap out messages on the wall between our bedrooms after lights out. My dad was career Army.”
“Nice. Can you use a gun? I’d like to leave one in the room for you, just in case.”
“I don’t have much use for handguns, but I’m good with long guns. They’re useless unless they put food on the table.”
“Back home, we used to kill rats with an old 22 pistol.”
Trying to hold back a giggle, she asked, “Do you have a good recipe for rat? There hardly seems to be enough meat on them to make them worth the effort.”
Flint stared at her for a second then threw back his head and laughed. The sound was rusty and broken at first, like he hadn’t indulged in humor for a very long time. Maybe he hadn’t. Carmen hadn’t given her much reason to laugh, either.
Wiping a tear away, he snorted out a last chuckle and said, “No, rat won’t be on the menu.”
“That’s a comfort, I guess.”
The smile fell from his face, and for some reason she missed it. “Okay, back to business. We’re going to have to be seen together outside this room, and there’s some chance Carmen will see us.”
The thought made her want to push him off the toilet so she could throw up, but she nodded in agreement. “What are we going to do?”
“Me? I’m going to keep hold of your leash and look proud for having such a magnificent slave. You’re going to keep your head down and stay behind me like a good kajira. Keep your hair loose so it covers your face.”
“That’s why you asked for it to be colored.” She couldn’t help the flush of pleasure at his compliment.
“Yes. The only thing you have to remember is not to let Carmen see your face. He doesn’t like redheads, so he won’t look very close, but if he sees your eyes, he’s going to recognize you.”
“Okay.” She chewed on her lip as she thought about where they could go and still be reasonably safe. “Carmen probably won’t go to the Rainbow Room, which is good. I have a few demerits to work off tomorrow.”
“What for?”
“I accidentally knocked over a vase when I ran away from you and Carmen this afternoon, and I was caught eavesdropping last Sunday. One demerit is one hour of service to whoever asks.”
He flushed with anger and scowled. “No. You’ll be too exposed and I don’t want anyone else touching you.”
Damn. The immediate flash of pleasure at his defense of her nearly dropped her to her knees. “It’s expected, but you can talk to Master Grimsley and ask for a deferral. He’ll allow it since I’m in a guest program, but I think it might be best if I get it over with. It would give us an opportunity to be seen in a public area, and I doubt Carmen would want to be around so many people.”
He cupped her jaw, turning her to face him. “I said no, kajira, and I don’t want to hear another word about it. Understood?”
She considered arguing, but his expression made her think better of it. “Yes, Master F— Master Miguel.”
“Good girl. You have to remember to call me Miguel.”
“I know.” She bit her lip and took a step closer to him. “May I ask you another question?”
“As many as you want, Holly. I don’t want to have any more secrets from you.”
“Why are you here? If it wasn’t for me, then why?”
Flint shook his head and wiped a hand over his face. “I should have expected you’d ask about the one thing I didn’t want to tell you.” He laughed, the sound bitter. “I’d have happily told you about the time I stole my daddy’s old pickup and accidentally sank it in the retention pond, or when I got caught with Mary Ellen Branson in the hayloft.”
Holly stretched out a hand and touched his arm. “Why, Flint?”
He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Carmen is here to execute a young blind woman named Grace Barnes because she’s a witness to another murder—”
“I know where she is, and she’s being guarded by Master Nelson. Carmen won’t have an easy time getting close to her.” She grimaced and added, “Hell, I can’t get close to her and I know all the hiding spots.”
Flint grinned crookedly, the expression never reaching his eyes as he stood. “We have to eat. I want to see how good you can be when you’re on your knees serving me, little kajira.”
Oh. Damn. No, dayum—make that expletive two syllables. She wanted to melt under his hot gaze. Now that the threat of her imminent death was gone, her body reacted to Flint in completely inappropriate ways. Stacey was right. He was gorgeous, dangerous, and utterly sexy. Her libido, left high and dry by Master David’s punishment, decided to sit up and take notice.
Bad Holly! Do not lust after the undercover agent. They didn’t have time, and she absolutely refused to get involved with another dangerous man. Her next lover would be an accountant. No, a baker or chef. Chefs didn’t get involved with psychopathic criminals, and always had wonderful collections of wooden spoons perfect for chastising naughty bottoms.
“Let’s go eat. I’m told the eggplant parm is good, and I’m hungry.”
“Yes, Master Miguel.”
Flint smirked and leaned toward her to whisper in her ear as he shut off the water. “Good girl, little kajira. We’ll make a spy of you yet.”
Oh, hell. Flint might not have intended to kill her with a bullet, but he was certainly trying to do it with pleasure. Every time he called her good girl she got just a little wetter, and there was no relief in sight.
For the first time ever, she wanted to beat Master David with his own crop. It was his fault she was so desperate.
“Thank you, Master. We need to get your costume first.”
“I know. That’s our first stop.”
Holly followed him to Wardrobe, waiting while the attendant fitted him in a kilt and boots. A leather vest covered his chest, leaving his muscular arms bare. She lifted a hand to wipe her chin and check for drool. Flint should be arrested for looking so damned fine. His tawny skin glistened under the muted lighting, stretched tight over defined muscles.
The barbells in his nipples about made her choke on her own spit. Where else was he pierced? And what was he wearing under that kilt? The knowledge that she’d never find out nearly made her cry.
Chapter 4
Holly was going to kill him, and he’d die a happy man. Her dark pink nipples were hard points clearly visible through the sheer fabric of her costume, and a blush painted the skin along her collarbones. Her lips parted and her tongue peeked out as she licked them.
Thank God for kilts. Flint felt like he could pound nails with his dick. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Follow, kajira.”
She let out a breath and lowered her head then put her wrists behind her back. As long as she kept her head down, Carmen would never recognize her. He picked up the chain dangling between her breasts and gave it a gentle tug. Her bare feet were silent on the floors, the faint clink of her cuffs the only evidence of her passage.
When they reached the grand staircase, he took her arm to help her down the stairs. She wouldn’t take a tumble on his watch. As they descended, her lips bowed into a tiny smile under the curtain of her hair. At the bottom of the staircase, he let go and allowed her to return to her spot behind him.
Holly was good at this. It was obvious she’d had extensive training. Granted, his experience was limited, but her nuanced movements and grace were something to behold. Bunched muscles in her shoulders and back were evidence of strength gained from hours of resistance training. She’d always been fit, but her body was honed now. And damn, Flint would almost give up his chance at Carmen and his badge for a chance to have those muscular thighs wrapped around his hips as he drove his cock into her.
