ReDefined

by Michele Zurlo

  Chapter Eighteen

  Amy lay stomach-down on the hardwood floor and groaned.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” Jordan stood in front of her, eating a breakfast burrito as a late-night snack. “Need help?”

  For the past three days, she’d been regularly running through a stretching routine that seriously tested her limits. Though it was slightly easier today, the routine was more strenuous than she imagined stretching exercises could be. “I’m going to fail at yoga.”

  “No, you’re not. Start slowly. You’re still getting used to moving your body in different ways. There’s no rush and no pressure. I promise that your lack of flexibility will not impact my libido. Just looking at you laying on the floor at my feet is getting me hard.”

  She snorted and rolled over. “You’re too easy.”

  “I’m making up for the past year.”

  “In one long weekend.”

  He shrugged. “I can’t help it if you’re that tempting. That’s all you. I’m just a helpless victim of your luscious curves.”

  Giggling, she got to her feet. When she looked at herself through his eyes, she no longer saw her voluptuous figure as a problem. The perfect man found her sexy and alluring. It was the self-esteem boost she sorely needed. Over the past few days, he’d made love to her countless times, and he’d been supportive and snuggly when she needed to bask in her inner littleness. He’d also been firm when she pushed boundaries too hard.

  Like yesterday when she’d snapped at him because she didn’t want to hold a stretch for as long as he’d dictated. He’d said something encouraging, and she’d told him to go fuck himself. She’d spent five minutes staring at a corner with her pants and panties around her ankles. He’d sat on the sofa and watched. Under those circumstances, five minutes was a hell of a long time. After she’d served her time, she’d apologized, and he’d made her continue the exercise. There were no recriminations and no lingering hostilities, and that was the part that solidified Amy’s feelings of emotional safety with Jordan.

  “I’m finished, but my butt and thighs are sore.”

  “Go run a bath. Put some Epsom salts in it. I’ll join you in about twenty minutes.”

  With a grin, she ran off to do as he’d said. Knowing him, he was probably measuring out rope and lining up condoms. They’d gone through so many already. Once this was all over, she’d see about getting an IUD.

  He came into the bathroom twenty minutes later, but he merely perched on the side of the tub and checked her out. Reclining against the backrest put her shoulders mostly in the water, but her breasts peeked above the waterline.

  “What are you thinking?” As if she didn’t know.

  “How incredibly lucky I am to have you.” He knelt next to the tub. “Have you washed yet?”

  She shook her head. She’d showered that morning, and the purpose of this bath was to soak in warmth.

  “Good. I’m going to do it for you.” He bypassed the soft cloth and used his hands, soaping them up before running them along every inch of her body. By the time he finished, her lady parts were screaming for his touch. He pulled the plug on the drain, but he set a restraining hand on her stomach. “I’m not finished.” He only let half the water out before replacing the plug, and then he grabbed a disposable razor.

  Amy knew better than to protest. Being shaved, especially in her pussy area, was very intimate, but she was becoming used to his lack of boundaries where she was concerned. Jordan took his role as a Daddy Dom very seriously.

  First he shaved her pussy, which didn’t have much growth because she’d shaved that morning. Then he tended to her legs and underarms. Afterward, he ran his palms over her skin, checking out his work. “Stand up.” He let the rest of the water run out as he rinsed her body, and then he carefully dried her with a soft towel.

  “This weekend has been bittersweet, little one. On one hand, I’ve had four uninterrupted days with you. On the other hand, our families are bearing unimaginable sorrow. Tomorrow, my job will pull me away from you.”

  Shocked, she stared at him. “I thought we were going back Tuesday.”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow. They moved up my funeral. I’ll be replaced by two people from a private security firm who will guard you with their lives. One is an old friend of mine, and Brandy knows the other one really well. I trust them to keep you safe.” He caressed her cheek and pushed her hair back. “I just got off the phone with Brandy. There’s a lot of prep work that goes into an operation like this, so I’ll be leaving very early in the morning.”

  Hot tears pricked behind her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Is it selfish of me to not want you to go?”

  “No, but it would be selfish to expect me to stay. I’m a Federal agent. This is what I do. There will be many more cases that take me away from you. Depending on the assignment, there will be days or weeks that I won’t be able to see you. I want you to know that moments like this etch themselves on my soul. This is what will get me through long and tough days. This is what I’m fighting for.” He wrapped the towel around her body and lifted her from the tub.

  Amy caressed his face, rough because he liked to shave her legs instead of his cheeks, and stared into his dark, liquid eyes as he carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. “I love you, Daddy. Heart and soul. You asked me a question a couple of days ago, and I want to tell you that I’ve made my decision—yes, but it comes with a condition.”

  He covered her body with his, pinning her with his weight. “Yes to which part?”

  “Yes, I will wear your collar, and yes, I will marry you.” This was the third time Amy had been asked for her hand, but it was the first time she’d consented. The other times, it just hadn’t seemed right. Now she knew why—it hadn’t been Jordan asking.

  “And the condition?”

  “I want a long engagement—one year. I get where you’re coming from and why you asked so quickly. You’re thoughtful and sure about me because you’ve been thinking about this for a long time, but this is still new, and I want more time. I need to explore being a little, and I need more time with you to grow our relationship and work out the kinks. Literally and figuratively.”

  “Anything you need, babe. I’m a patient man, and you’re worth the wait.” He kissed her, communicating a wealth of emotion with that simple act, and then he made love to her. No rope or toys, just the two of them coming together.

  __________

  The light in the bedroom remained on long after Miguel estimated the sleeping pills he’d ground up and put into their wine had taken effect. This operation was made complicated by the fact that Monaghan made regular sweeps of the house and grounds. Thankfully, the suddenness of the man’s departure from the hospital hadn’t given him a chance to make sure he had high-powered binoculars or night vision equipment. Monaghan had been forced to make do with his eyes and ears—which were no match for the long-range, military grade binoculars Miguel was using to spy on them from a safe distance.

  Due to the number of trees, the site lines weren’t exactly clear, and so the infrared sensors that went with the spy equipment were coming in handy. And after a few days of nothing happening—Monaghan was under the impression that nobody outside his trusted circle knew where he was—the man’s guard had relaxed. It could also have something to do with having a horny piece of ass within arm’s reach. Markevich was proving to be quite the distraction. Still, he’d been watching them for the better part of two days, and he hadn’t been able to figure out how to set his plan in motion. He’d decided on sleeping pills because there was no way he could take down that big son of a bitch when he was at full strength.

  Sure, he could shoot them, but by the time he got close enough to make the shot, Monaghan would be able to return fire. Miguel needed to get them out of the cabin without leaving a trace. They would simply disappear without a trace.

  The opportunity had presented itself somewhat unexpectedly. While setting the table for dinner, Monaghan’s phone had ran
g. He’d gone into the bedroom to talk, and Amy had followed him after a few minutes. Either she didn’t like being excluded from the conversation, or he’d called her in for a quickie since he was in the bedroom anyway. They were in the nauseatingly cute phase of their relationship, but that wouldn’t last long. Miguel didn’t give them until morning.

  He chuckled at his macabre joke.

  Careful to move silently, he crept to the cottage and peeked in the bedroom window. They had both fallen asleep with the light on, which meant the pills had worked. He toyed with cutting the main, but if the cottage was without power, the agents who showed up would know something wasn’t right.

  The locks were easy to break, and they hadn’t activated the security system before drifting into dreamland. Miguel hoisted the woman first, reasoning that she’d be easier to move. He groaned as her full weight hit his shoulder. Monaghan had picked her up and slung her around like she weighed nothing. It just underscored the reason hand-to-hand combat with Monaghan wouldn’t be a good idea.

  Grunting with the effort, he finally made it to the unmarked car in which they’d arrived. His own car was hidden a few miles away. Miguel had walked the distance, and after he disposed of the bodies, he’d abandon the car at a private airport. A bus line ran down a nearby highway. He’d just get off at the nearest stop and backtrack to his car. He had exactly six hours to get this done.

  He threw Markevich in the back seat, wincing as the sound of her head hitting the edge of the door echoed through the small clearing. He eyed her, and frowned. She was naked. People didn’t often travel naked in cars. He brought out a large T-shirt and wrestled it onto her.

  Monaghan was next. In the spirit of fairness, he put the man’s boxer shorts on him. In the midst of doing so, Monaghan stirred. Miguel froze. The dose he’d given the man should have kept him in a deep slumber for a lot longer. Combined with the wine, this should have been a slam dunk—unless Monaghan had built up a tolerance for opiates. Given his record, it was possible he had experience taking many different kinds of illicit drugs.

  Miguel frowned, briefly considering killing Monaghan before putting him in the car. If possible, he’d rather kill him elsewhere. That way no evidence would be left behind.

  Jordan jerked somewhat conscious suddenly with the feeling that something was very wrong. His instincts had never led him astray. Someone was in his room, and it wasn’t Amy. Last night had been unexpectedly exhausting for both of them. Amy had fallen asleep seconds after they’d finished making love, and his eyes had closed before he could think of ways to tease her about it. He hadn’t even turned out the lights or set the alarm, two very uncharacteristic moves.

  Cotton coated his mouth, and he couldn’t quite wake up. Part of him wondered if this was a lucid dream—or nightmare. The rest of him knew it was real, and Amy’s life hung in the balance. He had to wake up. Dimly, he realized he’d been drugged. He didn’t know with what or when, but he knew that he could fight it. Whoever had done this wouldn’t expect him to come out of it so quickly. That was one of Jordan’s superpowers: Drugs often had a limited affect on his physiology. It sucked when he needed antibiotics or had a headache, but it was a bonus when he’d been drugged. And some pervert was trying to undress him.

  Jordan came up swinging. His fist connected with a satisfying crunch, so he guessed he’d hit a nose. Because his eyes wouldn’t open, he couldn’t be sure. The man swore and backed away, so Jordan seized the opportunity. Launching himself off the bed, he aimed his shoulder at where he estimated the man’s midsection to be. They hit the floor hard. The activity helped Jordan shake off some of the effects. He opened his eyes to see a familiar face—Director Lawrence. The man was so high up in the FBI administration that he was almost never found below the top floor. Frequently he was at Quantico for some reason or another. He was a phantom figurehead, someone who almost never crossed their minds unless they needed information that only someone with a higher level of clearance could get.

  All of this information flitted through Jordan’s mind as he thumped his fist into the man’s midsection. Then something hit his head hard, and blackness closed in.

  Bent in half, Miguel groaned. He snagged a shirt from the floor to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. Who would have thought Monaghan would have been aware enough to not only know something wasn’t right, but to fight so hard? Luckily his movements had been sluggish, and his hits weren’t as lethal as they could have been. Good thing this kinky motherfucker was into bondage. Miguel used the rope neatly coiled on the dresser to bind Monaghan’s arms and legs. There was enough left to wrap it around his body, binding his arms to his torso.

  He grabbed the blanket from the bed and rolled Monaghan up in it. This bundle was easier to drag to the car, and it didn’t leave a telltale path. He heaved the man into the back, not caring what end was up or where he landed. With that taken care of, he returned to the cottage, packed their things, and closed up the house. He remembered to set the alarm system. Even when running off with his girlfriend, Monaghan wouldn’t leave his buddy’s property unprotected.

  He’d kept out one bundle of rope, and he used that to tie the woman’s wrists together. She was soft and out of shape. While she had a lovely plus-sized figure, she was not athletic, and there was no way she’d be able to mount an effective defense. Besides, she’d obviously had the larger dose of the sleeping medication. It was unlikely she’d wake up before he killed her. That suited him just fine. Wetwork was hard enough without having to deal with someone fighting for their life.

  __________

  Road noise and the jolt of a car rattling over a pothole woke Amy. Lethargy made it difficult to come fully awake, and so it took her a few seconds to realize that she was in the backseat of a car. Outside, moonlight bounced from tall trees, throwing sinister shadows across the road. Shifting her arm, she realized her wrists were tied, and so she froze. Jordan would never tie her up while she was asleep and put her in a car. Plus, her wrists were bound one on top of the other, which meant the rope pressed against the inside of her left wrist. That was not safe, and Jordan would never practice unsafe bondage. Adrenaline rushed through her system, banishing the effects of sleep.

  Without giving away her change in consciousness, Amy turned to assess the situation. A heavy bundle took up most of the space in the back, and a heavy lump pressed against her shin. In the faint light from the moon, she saw that whoever was driving hadn’t bound her very well. Though he’d tied several knots, they were one on top of the next and easily undone if she could reach them. Moving right now would alert the driver, and she couldn’t risk it. She’d wait for the opportunity to use her teeth.

  The lump pressing into her leg was beginning to feel more and more like a head, and she realized it was a body wrapped in a blanket. Out of the other end, propped up against the opposite door, Jordan’s bare feet stuck out, as did the rope binding them together. Her heart stuttered. Jordan was in there, bound and unconscious. How had this man taken them unaware? Not only was Jordan a trained agent, but he’d spent time working top secret missions for the military. Someone had to be very good or very devious to overpower him.

  They’d been drugged, she decided. She didn’t know when or how, but they’d been given something to render them unconscious. Otherwise they’d be in the cottage right now, likely standing over a badly beaten body. There was no way Jordan would countenance this bullshit.

  She used the momentum of the next turn to slump forward. That way she could reach down and make sure the blanket didn’t suffocate Jordan. Aware the driver had turned to check the movement, she made sure to stay relaxed and still. As soon as she thought it was safe, she stuck her hand down the blanket to give him air space. Satisfied that he was breathing, she worked on untying the knots on her wrists. Then she loosened the ropes around her wrists and retied the knots, reasoning that this man needed to think she was still immobilized.

  The car turned, and the terrain became bumpy. Soon the car stopped, and th
e driver got out. He went to the trunk, and she used the opportunity to untie Jordan’s ankles. The kidnapper had used the same sloppy knots, so it only took a second. On the positive side, their kidnapper seemed inept when it came to what kinds of knots could and couldn’t be easily undone. On the minus side, he’d been clever enough to drug and kidnap them.

  Amy chose to stick with the good news. This glass had to be half full.

  She’d just returned to her slumped-forward position when her door opened. He slid his hands under her arms and clumsily dragged her from the car. It took all her willpower not to tense up as he knocked her head against the frame of the car. Her ankle, pinned between Jordan and the seat, twisted painfully. A whimper escaped, and the kidnapper froze.

  “Shhh.” His voice was low and his tone was meant to soothe, but when someone most likely had planned to engineer a bad ending to a person’s life, a quiet volume and tone was more creepy than calming.

  She chose to not broadcast that fact.

  He set her down gently on the ground. “I’ll put him in first, that way you won’t get crushed by that big son of a bitch. Though I’m not sure it matters. I’d show mercy and slit your throat or something, but I can’t chance leaving a blood trail.”

  She heard the crunch of his boots on the forest floor as he walked away, and she peeked at her surroundings. They were in the woods, so the moonlight didn’t penetrate the canopy very well, but he’d left the headlights on. Though they were pointed at an angle to where she lay, she was able to make out the bags of clothes and personal items they’d brought to the cottage. They were stacked at her head. Surrounding the miniscule clearing, red pines towered above them, ensuring seclusion. Next to her, the ground dropped away. The mound of dirt told her that he’d dug a pit.