Prisoner Mine

by Megan Mitcham

  That was hardly enough time to dress, much less contemplate her loyalties. She slumped against the bed and stared at the computer screen. The metal frame dug into her spine. It didn’t compare to the painful memories that innocuous picture wrought. Her cousin had pressed her face into the lounger’s cushion, suffocating her objections while he violated her. But more heart wrenching than that had been her father’s refusal to take action against him. The man supposed to protect her from all things had turned the tables and placed the heavy burden of fault on her slender shoulders. Strike one.

  Greer stood and moved to the vanity. She dragged the brush through her hair, starting at the ends and then working her way up. When the bristles finally smoothed through from base to tip she pulled it back into a low ponytail, and then brushed her teeth. The reflection looked nothing like her ruddy cheeked, round faced father; her father, who’d convinced her to quit her job and join US Elite for a noble cause that didn’t exist. Strike two.

  She splashed water on her face, and then blotted it away with the hand towel. At the bag she pulled out a pair of jeans and a snug, light-purple T-shirt. In all her years, she’d never seen her father in a T-shirt. He couldn’t abide casual clothing, but apparently had no problem concocting a scheme with her uncle that involved properties in New York, South Carolina, Miami, California, and New Mexico. All strategic locations for trafficking drugs, weapons, and women across the United States. Strike three.

  While she slipped her feet into her shoes the door lock clicked, and then opened. Z strode inside with a paper bag pinched between his pinkie and palm, and a coffee in each hand. He crossed the room and extended the Styrofoam cup to her. She remembered the last time a man had given her a cup of coffee.

  Cold sweats iced Greer’s body. Her hands quaked. The oxygen in the air dissipated.

  Z’s hand clamped her nape. He drove her to the edge of the bed and shoved her head between her knees. “Long, deep breaths.”

  Minutes passed before her lips cooperated, but finally they did.

  “My father didn’t only recommend me for US Elite, but for the team to infiltrate the Stas. I think he was trying to get rid of me.”

  16

  Beyond the weepy oak branches stood the house of Greer’s nightmares. If Zeke had any doubt as to whether the place and its memories haunted her he had only to look at the white-knuckled grip she held on the leather armrest of the black BMW he’d switched out at one of his storage units on the way. Out of the way, really, but what was one more hour?

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Greer.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “If anyone’s home, they can’t hear us.”

  “I know,” she whispered again.

  When Khani had pulled off his bandages she’d yanked them without warning. It helped him get over the shock. They’d talked this plan to death over the four, no, five-hour trip. He pressed the phone button on the steering wheel, and reminded, “You’ve got this.”

  A dial tone filled the car a second before the loud ring. Greer released the handle, reached across the console, and shoved his shoulder. It rang once, twice, three times.

  “Hello,” came a haughty voice.

  “Dad?” Greer almost choked the word.

  “Oh my God, Greer? Are you okay? Baby? Where are you? I’ve been frantic trying to find you. None of your friends knew where you were. Do you know you’ve been out of touch for days?”

  With each question Greer’s shoulders straightened. When the questions turned to accusation her jaw hardened.

  “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

  “I need you to meet me at your house.”

  “Well, I’m here. I couldn't go into work with you missing,” he scoffed, and then added, “Come home, baby.”

  Greer’s furious gaze met his. He nodded.

  “Meet me at your upstate house.”

  Silence whined through the line.

  “4087 Winding Lane. The place where Greeson raped me, remember?”

  “What are you talking about, baby?”

  “Cut the bullshit. I know everything. I’m just giving you a chance to explain before I go to the feds.”

  Another noiseless spell whirled across space. Stockton cleared his throat. “What time would you like to meet?” The man asked the question with as much concern as he would a tee time. It told Zeke he didn’t give a shit about Greer’s threat.

  “Four hours will give me enough time to get there. How about you?”

  “I’ll take the plane and be there when you arrive.”

  Greer leaned across the car, ended the call, and then slumped against the seat. One arm rested on the door. The other splayed across the armrest. Her head rolled to the side. “Now what?”

  “We wait and watch.”

  “For four hours?” Her arms shot into the air.

  “I expect it won’t take that long.”

  She turned to the passenger window, staring out at the thick curtain of leaves. A hearty sigh filled the car. Another blasted no more than a minute later. She adjusted the vent to blow directly on her face. Two minutes later she turned it away, and then flipped down the visor. She didn’t look in the mirror, but slid the guard back and forth. The light above flashed on and off in time with her idiosyncrasy. Five minutes into the ritual she gave up, straightened, and turned to face him.

  “I guess we could make out in the back seat. I’ve never done that.”

  Her words and the devilish look in her eye stroked his prick. “Jesus, Greer.” He shifted the binoculars around his neck and adjusted the laptop being attacked by his crotch.

  “Fine.” A spark lit behind her blue eyes. “If you’re going to be a prude, tell me who you work for.”

  Zeke removed the lanyard from his neck and computer from his lap, plopped them on the dash, and leaned across the console. Greer nibbled on her lower lip. Part of his brain exploded on the spot. He buried his fingers in her hair, pulled her within an inch of his mouth, and held her there. She arched into his hold, trying to complete the promise of contact. Her breasts swelled against the cotton of her shirt. The pink of her lips opened to receive him. Still he held her there. Her palms molded to his chest. She drove him to the brink of self-control.

  “Kiss me already,” she panted.

  “You weren’t kidding about the backseat?”

  “Not really.”

  He tilted her head and whispered kisses around the edges of her mouth. “We’d never fit. Too bad I don’t have a panel van. Or maybe it’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to steal your virtue in a bloody car.”

  “You can’t steal something freely given.”

  His other hand found the crook of her neck, molded to it, and eased her forward. Their lips met in a tangle of heated flesh. Gone were the soft, tentative kisses. In their place, unhinged passion. Her hands roved his neck and chest, clutching and playing over the uneven topography. His knuckles brushed the side of her jaw, grazed the thrumming pulse in her neck, and dragged across her stiff nipples.

  Greer moaned into his open mouth. She sucked his tongue, coaxing it into her mouth. Her lips slid off the tip, then slid slowly back to the base. The imitation of sex on his mouth ratcheted his need and busted through his reserve. His hand slipped under her shirt, yanked the cup of her bra to the side, and rubbed her bud hard in a counter-clockwise circle.

  Her hips jerked off the leather on the second rotation. Air from her gasp rushed across his face. He seized the opportunity, continuing with his assault on her nipple and regaining control over the kiss. His tongue lashed at her lips. She opened to him, her head lazing to the side in an attempt to recapture the lead. Dominance probably comforted her. He’d show her abandon could be so much sweeter.

  Zeke dipped his fingers into the front of her jeans. He jerked the material toward her belly, driving the crotch against the front of her pelvis and straight to the heart of the matter. Greer stopped seeking control all right. Sh
e bowed off the seat and cried out. Her fingers dug into the rounds of his shoulders. He pulled again, shimmying the coarse fabric left and right.

  “Oh my. Ah.” Her hands found his hair and tugged.

  “Do you want more, Greer?”

  “Yes.”

  The certainty in her voice knocked him back a step. He recovered by popping the snap of her jeans and dragging the zipper low. Of all the clothes to wear while necking, trousers were the worst. It took three sure jolts to drag them over the swell of her hips. Thinking trousers around her ankles would make her feel too exposed in the light of day on a suburban street, he left them high on her thighs. His first two knuckles coasted over her pelvis and down between the heat of her legs. They dragged over the damp lace of the panties he’d chosen for her.

  Their kisses slowed. Zeke pressed against her swollen clit, and continued the descent of his knuckles across her labia. On the way back up, he paid extra attention to her distended nub, circling and strumming. Her hips undulated in time with his hand in the most erotic dance he’d ever witnessed. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His cock throbbed for attention. He ignored everything but Greer. Not the safest move in their current situation. Fuck if he could do anything to rein this in.

  He shimmied her panties to the side. She moaned against his lips.

  “Greer?” His voice cracked like a pre-pubescent chit.

  “Yes.” Her tone answered to the question he’d yet to ask.

  He cleared his throat. “Do you want me inside you?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  It was the quietest she’d been since they started this dance. Zeke stilled his hand just above her dewy flesh. “You can tell me no. I can make you come without milking the silk of your sweet pussy.”

  “I think you could just by looking at me and talking to me, but I want you inside me and all around me. It’s just new.”

  “And terrifying?”

  “Exciting.” She smashed her lips to his mouth. Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand and pressed it against her most intimate flesh.

  He needed no more encouragement. His fingers slicked in her arousal. They glided over her lower lips and found her clit. Zeke forced his eyes open against the ecstasy of her skin, needing to see her reactions to his touch. When he circled the bundle of nerves her hips followed his finger. A massage to the base forced the breath from her lungs in quick heavy pants. Not ready for her to blow, he shifted to the point and rimmed the V of hooded skin. Her eyes clamped against the sensation. He lightened the touch and her eyes flew open. She was easier to read than a topo map.

  Once more his fingers danced to the foundation of her clitoris and then split, landing on either side of the nub, and stroked her to panted breaths. His other hand tweaked her pointed nipples.

  “Please, Z. More.” She writhed in his carnal embrace.

  Zeke smiled against her sweat-slicked neck. He nibbled a path to her mouth and twisted his hand. The V of his fingers pointed toward the sky and spread wide, exposing her swollen red clit. His middle finger extended. Throbbing in his crotch doubled in battering rushes of blood. How he wished he were burying himself balls deep inside Greer, but this wasn’t about his pleasure. Though, watching her come apart at the seams in rapture, as opposed to sorrow, pleased him immensely.

  One velvet inch at a time he discovered the hot, sweet feel of her. When he hit the second knuckle he had to back out to the tip. She was so damn tight. He whirled his finger around her silken walls, and then pressed deeper.

  Greer wrapped one arm around his neck and another around his invading arm. With a toss of her head the platinum hair fled her rosy cheeks. Her body arched. She rocked against his arm. He pumped his middle finger slowly in and almost out of her warmth, before burying to the hilt and rasping her inner flesh with long steady drags of his pad.

  “Oh, yes. I can’t stop. I can’t…” Her wide gaze found his.

  “Don’t you dare stop. Come apart for me.”

  Her hips undulated. She drove her sensitive clit onto his knuckles. The bite of her nails sank into his tricep.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me.” He released her nipple, allowing the blood to flow into the tip once more, and then plundered her mouth.

  Moans filled his ear. Her body constricted around his finger for nearly an entire minute. Mumbled words and gasps crashed against his lips. Spasms took hold of her inner muscles.

  Zeke pressed deep, but quit stroking. When the pulses stopped he dragged his finger from her body, broke their kiss, and sucked it into his mouth. Her mouth fell open on an inhale.

  “Since I quit, I’ve been dying to taste you again.”

  Her throat worked on a swallow, but she couldn’t seem to get a word out. She pulled him down and licked his lips with languorous strokes. He allowed himself one last kiss, and then straightened.

  “I’ve been wanting to taste you too.” Greer leaned on the console.

  He framed her face with his hands to stall her. “If you put your mouth on me right now, I’d blow your brains out the back of your skull.” His lips grazed hers. “Pull up your pants before we get caught or I lose my self-control.”

  “I lost mine.” She dragged her swollen lip into her mouth.

  “And it was…” He let the thought fall away. No need to get sentimental about bodily functions.

  “Was what?” Those clear blue eyes stared up at him with lusty admiration and he couldn’t deny her.

  “The most beautifully erotic thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “And you’re sure you don’t want to crawl into the back seat?”

  “I’d bust the windows and rip the seats out, trying to fuck you proper.”

  Her cheeks reddened further. She turned away, wiggled her panties and then trousers up her flushed hips, and fastened them. Zeke bumped up the air flow. He adjusted the snugness of his pants, not that it did a lick of good. Thinking the word lick certainly didn’t help. His balls tightened. In a desperate attempt to shift the direction of his thoughts, he snatched the binoculars from the dash and aimed them at the house. Despite the brilliant mid-day sun the grounds hid behind a light fog on the windows.

  They passed nearly half of an hour in the silent wake of their fervor. It took every one of the minutes for his raging hard-on to ebb. The windows didn’t take as long to clear. He scanned the horizon in every direction, paying close attention to the ton of bricks and mortar. Birds and squirrels milled about. A nanny strolled down the tree lined street with a fat-cheeked infant swaddled in a prison of cotton.

  “Why did they take you?”

  His gaze swung from the chubby baby to Greer. He lowered the binocs on the snappy turn. “Seriously?” As he had before, he leaned across the console and dug his hands into her hair. “You want to go again?”

  She pecked a kiss on the tip of his nose, and then retreated to the opposite side of her seat. He let her go.

  “No, I just wanted you to know I’m not so easily distracted.”

  “If you think that was easy, I suppose I did it right.”

  Her smile broke the tension at his nape.

  Zeke collapsed into his seat and reclined it a few degrees. Greer trusted him with everything, her life. It was time he started trusting her…just a little.

  “They wanted to know who I was and who I worked for.”

  A robust laugh shook the car. She tossed her head back and covered her mouth. Between sighs her statement poured out a word or two at a time. “They'd have better luck getting a tree to talk.”

  “They’d have had better luck if they’d used you to get me to talk.” He grabbed her, pulled her to his side of the car, and laid a kiss more sweet than seductive on her red lips. When he released her she stayed perfectly still. Her hazy gaze searched his. The urge to squirm took hold with both hands, but he didn’t move. Instead, he let her scour his soul for whatever it was she sought. She wasn’t likely to find it, but he let her all the same.

  “I thought I’d made some fatal mistake a
nd they’d caught me,” he rambled.

  “Stealing the data?”

  Zeke bobbed his head. “But that didn’t make sense. They never produced or even talked about the evidence they had against me. Now, here we are, still trying to get to the bottom of it.”

  The soft pads of Greer’s fingers traced his jaw. “What did they do to you?”

  “Doesn't matter. I'm alive. They're not.”

  “How long did they have you?”

  He ignored the chill that crawled up his spine. “Eleven days.”

  “Eleven days?” Greer’s indignant shout reverberated off the glass. The whites of her eyes grew two-fold. Her inflamed lips curved into a frown. “And you were conscious for every minute of…” She shooed away the thought with violent shakes of her head. When they slowed her fingers laced his.

  The tender gesture and her vicious outrage on his behalf shifted something inside his chest

  “How did you escape?”

  For a heavy minute Zeke waffled about how much to tell her. He must have waited too long. Her gaze left him and wandered down the street.

  “My sister.”

  “How?”

  “Let’s just say she has skills and she put them to work.”

  Greer hiked a knee in her seat and then turned toward him. “I like her already. Now, if I ever meet her, I might have to slip her the tongue.”

  She said it with such nonchalance, holding her innocent face in a dead pan, that he lost it. Surveillance or not, his uproarious laughter might have chased away the birds. It definitely threaded a stitch in his side.

  Her hand smacked over his mouth with enough force to silence him mid-breath. The tightness in her jaw and focus of her gaze through the windshield transformed him from cackling idiot to the warrior he’d been since his eighteenth birthday. He lifted the binoculars and spotted her cause for concern immediately.

  A black SUV pulled into the garage. Six men poured out of the vehicle, donned full tactical gear, gleaming AK-47s, and mean mugs. Three entered the house with the hustle of battle. Two more fanned into the woods, disappearing in the thick brush. The last one stood guard at the open bay door.