Crusader (Impossible #9)

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Crusader (Impossible #9) Page 4

by Julia Sykes


  Long fingers pressed into my flesh in reprimand. “Don’t play dumb with me. It doesn’t suit you, flower.”

  Heat flared between my legs along with my annoyance. “I’m not your flower or your pet. Now let go of me.”

  He didn’t, but his expression softened slightly. “It’s a Yorkshire thing, lass. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  To my shock, he gripped my waist and lifted me as though I weighed nothing. He set me down on a barstool and positioned himself in front of me, caging me in.

  “We’re going to have a talk about safety,” he told me steadily.

  I looked away, feeling like a child about to be scolded. It was so unlike me to allow a Dom to overpower me. A small part of me – a traitorous, purely physical part – reminded me that I used to enjoy this kind of treatment.

  His hands left my waist to hold my wrists lightly, his thumbs pressing against my delicate veins. My pulse ticked up a notch, and he smiled, satisfied that he had my full attention.

  And damn it if he didn’t.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. I found myself trapped in his dark blue gaze. “You’re familiar with SSC? Safe, Sane, Consensual?”

  I nodded mutely.

  “Playing with that… Dom,” his lips twisted with contempt, “would have been neither safe nor sane. He’s high. And I suspect you know that. If that’s what you’re looking for, then it’s my responsibility to escort you off this ship immediately.”

  “And who put you in charge of me?” I tried to sound defiant, but the challenge came out breathily.

  “I did,” he answered coolly.

  “Everything all right here?” The new man’s Scottish accent was so thick it took me half a second to puzzle out his words.

  “Yes, Finlay,” Hugh said without breaking eye contact with me. “I think we understand one another.”

  I tore my gaze from his, only to find the cutting green eyes of the Scotsman who loomed behind him. Finlay was equally as large as his friend, his powerful body only barely covered by his hunter green tartan kilt.

  Trapped between the two Brits and the bar at my back, I felt small and vulnerable. My mind flashed back to the last time I had felt overpowered, helpless. I flinched at the memory of the cold warehouse.

  Warm, calloused thumbs brushed across the insides of my wrists. “You all right, love?” Hugh asked kindly.

  I snatched my hands away from his. The shameful reminder of my failure helped me find my righteous anger again.

  “I’m fine,” I said tersely. “I’d be better if you left me alone. I didn’t ask for a lecture. I’ve been in the lifestyle for years.”

  “I don’t know how you play in America, but I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior in my city.” The forbidding Dom was back.

  “Are these two bothering you, Clara?” I couldn’t have been more relieved to see Dex coming to my rescue. The two men boxing me in might be big, but my Neanderthal was bigger.

  “Yes. They won’t mind their own fucking business.”

  Hugh seemed to grow larger, and righteous power pulsed off him. “That’s it. Off my ship. Both of you.”

  I glowered at him. “It’s not your ship.”

  “It is as far as you’re concerned. Do you need me to drag you out or can you find the exit on your own?”

  “Are you going to let him talk to me like this?” I tried to rally Dex to my cause. What was the point of having the big bad Dom as my partner if I couldn’t use his beefy body as backup?

  “Okay,” he ignored me and addressed Hugh. “We’re leaving. We don’t want any trouble.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, incredulous.

  Dex grabbed my arm and pulled me off the barstool, freeing me from the Brits’ blockade.

  “You heard me, sub. Our fun’s over for the night.”

  Sub? Is he freaking serious? Oh, he was so getting a piece of my mind later.

  But for now, all I could do was try to keep up with him as he hauled me away from Hugh and Finlay. I didn’t look back at the Doms, but I could feel their disapproving gazes weighing on me.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded under my breath once we were far enough away from the men.

  “They’re law enforcement. Can’t you tell?”

  “They’re just über-Doms.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. The one in the kilt was questioning your target as soon as the other one separated the two of you. I’m telling you, they’re here to bust the place. We’re getting off before they start asking too many questions about us.”

  I cursed. If he was right about them, we had to get off the boat before all hell broke loose. The last thing we needed was for local law enforcement to look into our identities. The whole op would be over, and I would be forced to return to America. Well, Dimitri would take me before I ever set foot in the airport. That wasn’t an option.

  “This only ends one way, Clara. I win. I always win.”

  I ground my teeth. This was one game Dimitri would lose. I would see to it that he never toyed with anyone ever again.

  “You look like crap,” I informed Dex the following morning. “Why don’t you go back to your hotel and stop sleeping on my couch?”

  He growled at me. I held up my hands in a placating gesture.

  “Okay, you’re not a morning person. Sorry I poked the bear. But seriously, you’re like twice the size of the couch. How are you getting any sleep?”

  “I’m not,” he grumbled. “I’ll buy an air mattress today after I pick up the rest of my stuff from the hotel. I’m not leaving your side until we take Dimitri out. Now, please tell me you have some goddamn coffee. No more of this weak black tea shit.”

  I turned up my nose at him. “You have no respect for English culture.” He kept me fixed in his annoyed stare. I sighed. “Fine. We’ll go get a proper fry up. They’ll have coffee at the café.”

  “Fry up?”

  “Traditional English breakfast,” I explained. “You know, bacon and sausage and eggs.”

  “And beans?” One corner of his lips twitched up.

  I smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

  He gave a dramatic shudder. “I’ll trade you my beans for your bacon.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” I said with mock-severity. “Don’t you know better than to get between a woman and her bacon?”

  “Don’t you know better than to keep a man from his coffee?” He countered with exaggerated impatience.

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” I told him, laughing. “You’re funny when you’re not over-thinking it.”

  He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture. “Um, thanks.”

  I punched his arm lightly in a show of camaraderie. “Come on. Let’s get you caffeinated.”

  * * * * *

  Dex’s eyes flicked rapidly back and forth, studying something on his phone.

  “It’s rude to facebook while you’re having a meal with someone, you know,” I told him between bites of bacon.

  He shot me a sour look. “I’m not on facebook. I don’t even have a profile.”

  “Of course you don’t, caveman.”

  “Can we focus? I just got an email from Sam. It’s not good news.”

  “Who’s Sam? And why is he emailing you? We’re supposed to be off the grid right now.”

  “Sam Browning. And she’s responding to the email I sent her this morning. Don’t worry. We can trust her,” he said quickly. “She works with me in Chicago.”

  “You contacted someone from the Bureau?” I asked, alarmed.

  “Sam won’t snitch on us. She’s a friend. Besides, she’s a tech whiz. No one will be able to trace what she did, even if they look.”

  “What exactly did she do? What did you tell her?” Another thought occurred to me. “And if she’s in Chicago, isn’t it like three AM? What is she doing answering your emails at this hour?”

  “I told you, I can count on her. And she keeps weird hours. Geniuse
s are like that. Anyway, I asked her to look into those two Doms from last night, Hugh and Finlay. When there wasn’t any morning news about the fet party getting busted – because believe me, it would have been salacious news – I thought maybe I was wrong about them. I asked Sam to see if she could get any hits in law enforcement under those names.” He grimaced.

  “And?” I prompted, impatient.

  “They’re MI5.” He passed me his phone, and I found a picture of Hugh’s hard face staring back at me. “Hugh Sullivan and Finlay MacClellan.”

  “Oh, shit,” I breathed.

  “It gets worse.”

  “How?”

  “According to Sam, there’s no record of an assignment to case the boat party, and nothing on the books about Dimitri’s operation. He’s under their radar. Officially.”

  “So what are you saying? They’re MI5 and they just happen to be in the lifestyle?”

  “I’m saying I don’t think we’re the only ones going off-book here.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to sort through the fresh intel. “It’s obvious they’re Doms. Maybe they were just on the boat to party, and they didn’t like seeing other kinksters using at a public event. I mean, think about it. If you saw some asshole getting high at your favorite club, would you let it slide?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. You might be right.” He eyed me warily.

  “What?” I asked.

  “We should make contact. If we give them what we have, they might be able to help.”

  “No!” Several sets of eyes riveted to me, disapproving of my outburst. The loud show of emotion was terribly American. I lowered my tone. “No. If this goes on record, it’ll get back to Kennedy. Then we’ll both be done for. We stick to the plan and go back to the clubs tonight. If we run into Hugh and Finlay, we’ll make nice. Get close to them and figure out what they know.”

  Dex looked mutinous. “And what’s to stop me from going to them myself? I don’t like this, Clara. As long as Dimitri walks free, you’re in danger. MI5 could help us get to him faster. Not to mention they have way more resources than we do. You would be safer with them backing us up.”

  “You really think they would let me stay on the case once they find out about my history with Dimitri?” I demanded, incredulous. “They’ll kick me out, just like Kennedy did.”

  “Maybe they should,” Dex said harshly. “You cry out in your sleep, you know. You can pretend this isn’t about revenge, but I think we both know you’re lying. What happened to you and Charlotte that night would fuck with anyone’s head. You like being in control. Dimitri took that from you and-”

  “Don’t you dare psychoanalyze me!” I hissed. “Don’t act like you don’t have your own damage. This is our shot to do something big. Something good. You said you fucked up. You failed someone, just like I did. You want to make up for that, right?”

  “Too far, Peterson,” he snarled. “You don’t get to talk to me about her. If you bring it up again, I’m gone. You can rot in Dimitri’s chains.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. I had known it was a low blow, but I hadn’t expected such a harsh response.

  He rubbed his forehead. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Of course I won’t let that happen.”

  I reached out and tentatively touched the back of his hand where it rested on the table. He blinked at me in surprise.

  “No,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. I won’t mention it again. I promise.”

  Silence stretched between us, and I waited until he was ready to talk. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, his face had shifted to a business-like mask.

  “All right, Clara. We’ll go back to Club Lash tonight.”

  “And if we run into the MI5 guys?” I asked tentatively.

  He sighed. “We’ll make nice and find out what they know. I’ll follow your lead on this one.”

  I found no pleasure in my cruel victory. But I would take it, nonetheless. Getting to Dimitri was the only thing of importance. I would take him out, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 5

  “Looks like it’s time to make nice,” Dex grumbled, shooting a significant glance over my shoulder.

  My slow, sensual dance faltered. “They’re here?”

  “Yep. Your MI5 boys just came in.”

  “They’re not my boys. I don’t even know them. We only talked for a couple of minutes. They probably don’t even remember me.”

  “Judging by the way they’re looking at you, I think they’d disagree. They’re coming over here now. The Englishman looks pissed.”

  I hardened my resolve. “I have a story planned. We’re good. Leave the Englishman to me. I think he’s interested. You try to chat up Finlay.”

  He snorted. “I’m not playing gay.”

  “Be friendly, then. You’re a tourist. Ask him about the community in London.”

  “Excuse me,” Hugh’s unmistakable deep voice shot through me. “I’d like a word.”

  I turned my back on Dex so I could face the British agent, fixing him with a smile. “A word, or a dance?” I asked, lacing the words with heat.

  His brows lifted. I swayed my hips seductively.

  “I’ll take you up on that, pet.” Without pause, he gripped my waist and pulled me close, firmly asserting his power over me. It was just as intimidating as he intended. Strangely, my instincts to fight him were utterly absent. I faltered in his arms. His fingers squeezed me through my burgundy corset, steadying me.

  I glanced back, searching for Dex. I suddenly wanted him there to back me up. Unfortunately, he was following my instructions and retreating towards the bar with Finlay. Everything was happening too fast.

  “What happened to the little brat I met before?” Hugh asked, his tone steely. “I recall you saying you weren’t interested. Now you want to dance. What’s your game?”

  I tried to step away, but he pulled me closer. My hips made contact with his hard thighs. His hand splayed across the small of my back, trapping me against him. The man knew how to interrogate a woman, that was for sure. He achieved just the right balance of sensuality and ruthlessness to make my brain turn to mush. I hadn’t allowed a Dominant man this close to me in years. I had forgotten how to deal with it.

  “I asked you a question,” he prompted, his voice deepening to a degree that I felt the words hum through my bones.

  I struggled to gather my wits. “I… I think you have the wrong impression of me.”

  “Do I?” He drew out the question, somehow lending it a threatening edge. It warned me to consider my answer carefully.

  Reflexively, I looked for Dex again. Hugh gently gripped my chin, turning my face back to his.

  “You will look at me while I’m talking to you. I won’t tolerate any more rudeness.”

  “I didn’t mean to be rude,” I said breathlessly.

  “Didn’t you?” He turned my defense against me again.

  “I was annoyed,” I told the truth. “You were interfering.”

  His jaw firmed, and his eyes darkened with disapproval. “Interfering with your plans to get high?”

  “No!” I exclaimed quickly. I scrambled to remember my cover story. “I like fucking with bad Doms. I was just as pissed at that asshole for being intoxicated as you were. I might be a sub, but that doesn’t mean I’ll put up with douchebags who disrespect SSC.”

  He appeared truly surprised at my answer. Then the disapproval returned. “So you’re telling me you intentionally put yourself at risk just to knock that Dom down a few pegs? If you had gone off alone with him, do you have any idea what he might have done? He might not have respected your safe words.”

  I’m used to that, I thought bitterly.

  “I know how to defend myself,” I declared.

  His fingers left my chin to trail down the column of my neck, skimming across my collarbone and down to my upper arm, where he traced the contours of my lightly defined muscles. His hands suddenly slid down my forearms, a
nd he gripped my wrists, pinning them behind my back.

  “How are you going to defend yourself now?” He challenged calmly.

  “I could knee you in the balls,” I practically panted.

  Abruptly, his hand at the small of my back pushed me further against him, forcing my legs to either side of his thigh. The contact with my clit made me gasp as pleasure fluttered through me.

  “I wouldn’t recommend trying. Your punishment will be that much more severe.”

  “More severe?”

  He nodded decisively. “Someone has to teach you not to put yourself at risk.”

  “And you think that someone is you.” It was meant to be an acerbic question, but it came out as a confirmation of fact.

  “I do. And so do you. I can feel how hot your pussy is. If I pull away now, I’ll see your wet arousal on my leathers.”

  My cheeks flamed. How was he doing this to me? I was supposed to be the one in control. I had sworn to never put myself at the mercy of a man ever again.

  “You like topping from the bottom,” he concluded. “But you want a real Dom to treat you with a firm hand. You don’t want me to let you get away with it, do you?”

  “What?” I stalled.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, pet. I already told you it doesn’t suit you.”

  I tried to drop my gaze, but he quickly corrected me. “Eyes on me,” he barked, squeezing my wrists in warning. “Tell me you want me to release you, and I’ll walk away. If you don’t, we’ll do this my way. Before you make your choice, I should warn you: you’re in a world of trouble, little sub. I won’t be gentle, and I won’t be merciful. You need to learn a lesson, and I won’t shirk my responsibility even if you beg me to stop. Now is your chance to say no.”

  I stared up at him, speechless. Say no, I told myself. Say no.

  I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  I need to get close to him to see what he knows, I reasoned. I couldn’t reject him now, not when I had so much more to learn from him.

  Learn a lesson.

  I bit my lip. I still didn’t say no. Because I wanted to submit. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it until that moment. The temptation of that sweet release after three long years of rigid control was too strong to resist. He was too strong to resist.

 

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