by Dale Mayer
Not any longer.
With that thought dominant, she let sleep take her.
*
Angel sounded sleepy, as if she was almost under. Anders watched her chest slowly rise and fall in a smooth motion. She was out.
He lay here for a long moment, thinking about the strange day and the even stranger night. None of this made any sense, and he was a person who liked logic. He wanted to know motives, to understand what was going on and why. He and the guys had already determined they needed to have somebody on watch all the time they remained here in her father’s home. It made no sense, considering where they were, and it was not how they had planned their arrival to be. But something stunk in this gorgeous estate, and Anders didn’t want to be the one caught unaware.
With Dezi on guard first, Anders closed his eyes and rested. He dozed off and on, catching some rest until he woke up at one point to find her arms wrapped around his waist, her front plastered against his back and her fingers stroking his chest. He froze, not sure if she was asleep or awake.
“Are you awake, Angel?”
He heard a soft murmur behind him. He shifted ever-so-slightly, so he lay on his back.
Immediately she stretched across his chest and snuggled her head against the crook of his neck.
He smiled, wrapped an arm around her and tucked her up close. “At least you know where you belong while you’re asleep,” he murmured.
She didn’t respond, her breathing still heavy and deep. He stroked the hair off her face and dropped a kiss on her forehead. He thought about all the months he’d been without her, only to have her literally be his next job. No way she would remain a job to him. He didn’t know what the hell was going on in this poisonous household, but he didn’t want her here.
As he lay with her, thinking, she slid a finger up his chest to his neck, then to his chin and tapped him on the lips. “Ssh. Go to sleep,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “And here I thought you were asleep.”
“It’s like a furnace in this room,” she said, rolling onto her back, yawning.
“Do you want me to open the window?”
She shook her head and kicked off the blankets. “No. I’ll be fine without the covers.” Dressed as she was in soft cotton pajamas bottoms with a matching sleeveless crop top, he worried if she would be too cold. But then she wrapped herself around his chest again, her hand draping across his belly, and he wondered if he would get any sleep at all.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “It could be a long day tomorrow.”
She nodded, but her fingers stroked his abs.
He sucked in his breath, and that only seemed to make her fingers move across the washboard surface. He lay here in torment as she gently explored the lines of his belly and his ribs, coming to his sternum and to his nipples.
When she flattened her hand atop one nipple and gently stroked it, sliding across and flicking the other one, he knew she was no longer asleep. “Tease,” he muttered. He gasped when she pinched one hard.
“Not a tease,” she murmured. “I was thinking it was more foreplay.”
He rolled over to see her flat on her back, her eyes barely opened, but the look in them made his blood boil. “And then we’re back to the tease part,” he said, his voice husky. “Because, if you take one more step in this direction, I’m not stopping.”
The corner of her lips kicked up. “Promise?” she whispered, her fingers sliding up his chest to his neck, up to his ears and his hair. She slid her fingers through his curls. She closed her eyes at the sensation, and she tugged him down. Just before her lips reached up for his, she whispered, “I think I took that step.” And then she kissed him.
His blood fired and boiled over as he kissed her back with all the longing and all the torment he’d had for the last year, knowing she was engaged to and then married to another man. Another man who wasn’t worthy of her. She should have been Anders’s woman, and they should have had this last year together. But timing being what it was, Anders had spent many a long night worrying who she was with and what she was doing. Only knowing that, when the time was right, they’d come together again.
She wrapped her long legs high up around his hips, her body wide open and welcoming.
He groaned and ground his hips deep against hers. They both still wore bits of clothing, and that only added to the friction. This was their first time together. He wanted it to last. He didn’t want it to be rushed.
But she wasn’t listening. She kept shifting her hips up and down, almost riding the ridge of his erection.
He went to his knees and tried to lift up, farther away from her, to cool his ardor.
She gripped her thighs tighter around his hips and clenched them, lifting her pelvis as he pulled away. She cried out, “No.”
He groaned. “I just want to slow it down.”
“Next time,” she whispered. “Next time you can slow it down.”
“What’s the rush?” he asked, dropping kisses along her face, trying to control his breathing, trying to think of anything other than this warm hot wet body in front of him, crawling up his frame.
“I need you,” she said simply. “I think I always have.”
And, with that, his control shredded. He kissed her hard again and again, slanting his mouth one way, then the other, unable to get enough of her. He left a trail of wet kisses down her cheek, her neck, to the spot between her breasts, all the while her body arching, giving him more access. Whatever that scrap of material she wore was supposed to be was long gone by the time he made it to her plump breasts. Although small, they were a perfect handful. He took one of her nipples deep into his mouth and suckled, even as his hand stroked downward to play with the elastic band on her pajama bottoms.
She slipped her hands down, undid something and the material was suddenly kicked off her legs and flung far across the bed. Then her hands were all over him. He groaned and gasped, tried to pull away again, but she had him, both hands wrapped around his erection. She stilled, exploring, whispering, “Oh my.”
He dropped his forehead between her breasts and tried hard to suck more oxygen into his lungs. But it was damn hard. She stroked him, played with the tip, her hand sliding the silky material of his boxers off his hips. He had to move back slightly so he could pull them off and toss them to the floor. When he straightened up again, she was there at the edge of the bed, her hand already reaching for him, sliding up and down his shaft, the other hand cupping the globes beneath it. She leaned forward and licked up the center line of his abdomen.
He shuddered. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said, nudging her backward. “You do that, and I’m lost.”
“Fine,” she said. “Second time I get to play with you.”
His mind hit a red haze as he pushed her thighs apart. She held her legs straight up to the ceiling as he lowered himself in position, then she wrapped those thighs tight around his hips and clung as he plunged deep.
He stopped, his breathing erratic as he desperately fought for control. And she wasn’t helping one bit. She slipped her arms around his back and pulled herself up off the bed and started to ride him from underneath. He shuddered and cried out, his hands on her hips, trying to still her movements. But she wasn’t having any of it. She lunged upward as he went up on all fours. And finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. He lowered his weight and took over the pace, plunging deep again and again.
She cried out as she twisted beneath him, her words magic to his ears as she chanted, More, more, more, adding how she’d missed him, how she’d wanted him all this year, how she was so sorry for not having been there for him.
And then she did it. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, almost fully supporting herself on his frame, and she whispered, “Make me yours. Like I should have been long ago.”
And he exploded. The orgasm ripping through him turned his mind to mush. All he could remember was the feeling of knowing she realized exactly where she belonged. She knew it too.
Dimly through the haze in his mind, he heard her cry out, her body arching beneath him. And he knew she’d climaxed with him. He collapsed softly on her, letting her feel the full weight on top of her for a long moment. And then, knowing he was too heavy, he slid off to the side as she murmured and rolled over with him. Fully laying on top of him now, their bodies still locked, she gasped against his chest.
He whispered, “At least you know where you belong.”
She chuckled. “I do now.” She slid a hand to his hips, stroking the skin alongside his ribs. “The question is, do you?”
He smiled as he stared at the most beautiful woman his heart had ever met, and he tucked her closer and whispered, “Oh, yes, I do. I always have.” And he kissed her again.
When she lifted her head, she asked, “Ready for round two?”
He groaned. “I thought I would get a minute.”
She wiggled and slowly pushed herself up, so she was riding him, and whispered, “I think you’ve had it.”
His body arched as she started to ride, his mind already shocked that he was hard and ready to go yet again. But, when she reached down and bit and nipped at his nipple, his hips lunging as she slowly controlled the pace, not letting him go too fast, making sure this time it would last, he whispered, “I’ll get my own though.”
She chuckled and whispered, “Third time. You get the third time. This one’s all mine.”
*
She woke early in the morning. Her body sore but humming with pleasure. She smiled, rolled over to find Anders sound asleep behind her. She sat up, pulled her pajamas back on, ready to slip to the bathroom one floor below. She wasn’t surprised to see Harrison sitting on the hallway floor, right beside her alternate bedroom door. She smiled at him and said, “Did you have a good night?”
He nodded quietly and whispered, “You?”
She blushed but said, “Absolutely. Thank you for standing watch.”
He nodded. “It’s still really early. Go back to bed. You’ll need your sleep.”
“I just need to make a quick bathroom run.” She frowned. “What time is it?”
“It’s not quite five yet.”
Surprised, she went one floor down into the nearest bathroom, had a quick wash, filled a glass with water and stepped out. “I’m ready to go back to bed.”
And came face-to-face with a man in a ski mask. On the floor beside him, Harrison appeared unconscious, his body still. The masked man looked up at her and smiled. “Finally,” he said. “Now we have you.”
And then she saw the gun in his hand. She swallowed hard, and, when he motioned her to go down the hallway, she caught sight of Harrison again and cried out, “Did you kill him?”
“No, I did not kill him,” the gunman said. “But he shouldn’t have been here anyway. He’s in a dangerous line of work.”
She shot him a look. “And so are you,” she snapped.
His nudge to push her down the hall was less than gentle. “Move.”
She walked ahead of him. “What do you want anyway?”
“Apparently you have something on your father. And I want it.”
“Why?” She frowned, trying to figure out how anybody could possibly know about that material. Only one person knew. Only one person came to mind. Carlo. She wondered again if he could be behind all this.
“Because we have a use for it,” he said quietly.
“Carlo is a small man in the cog of life,” she said. “Why would you care?”
“None of your business,” he said, nudging her forward faster. “Where is it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Stop it,” he spat out. “You definitely know what I’m talking about.”
“What makes you think it’s even here?”
“If it isn’t, then we’re going wherever it is.” His voice was calm but hard.
She glared at him. “You haven’t told me what it is you’ll do with it.”
“I have no intention of telling you anything.”
“So this wasn’t about his work as a prime minister, was it?”
“It might be.” His tone turned jovial. “Everybody needs leverage. And it’s a well-known fact that he doesn’t give a shit about you.”
“Ouch,” she murmured. It was the truth, but still it was a little hard to hear it when put that way.
“It’s not like you don’t already know that,” he snapped. “And smart that you have something on him. It took a little while, but eventually he broke down and told us exactly what it was all about.”
“And when did he tell you that?”
“In his office this evening.” The man’s voice turned even more cheerful. “Let’s go have a visit.” And he pushed her toward Carlo’s office.
When she stepped in, she saw Carlo, blood on his forehead, seated in front of his desk, but, for the first time, looking old and tired. She stared at him. “Are you okay?”
He looked up and nodded. “I am. Or at least I am for the moment,” he snapped. “Don’t give him what they want.”
She frowned and asked the masked man, “And then what?”
“Then we kill both of you,” a second gunman said from inside the office. “Wouldn’t that be great? An intruder breaks into the estate and kills you both.” He nodded. “I like it.”
“But then you won’t get any of the material I have.”
“No, but we could burn this place to the ground. Then go to the cottage and take out the cook and her son. No witnesses,” the second gunman said. “After all, once we’ve killed one of you, what difference does it make?”
She sagged into the closest chair beside Carlo and thought about her options. She didn’t dare contemplate who they’d already killed.
“Where is the material?”
“Don’t tell him,” Carlo roared.
One of the guns shifted toward him. He shut up. And she realized these men were dead serious. She stood and said, “I know where it last was.”
“So it is here,” the first masked man said with a nod of satisfaction. “I thought it would be. Where?”
She motioned above her. “It’s upstairs.”
The second gunman nodded to the first. “Take her up there and get it.”
Her mind frantically tried to figure out where Anders and the rest of his guys were. She made her way to her official bedroom, to the safe behind the large mirror on the side wall. With one masked man watching, she turned the dial to unlock the safe. Only one thing inside—the USB key with the information on Carlo.
The masked man snatched it from her hand and nudged her toward the door. “Exactly what we need.”
“So you’ll leave now?” she asked hopefully. But inside she knew the answer was No way. The question was whether he would shoot them or not. He forced her back down into Carlo’s office, where the masked man triumphantly held up the key.
The other gunman nodded. “Perfect. Sit her down and tie her up.”
She was roughly grabbed, forced onto a chair, her arms slung behind her and tied up with some kind of a rope. “What will you do now?”
“I must decide how many witnesses I’ll leave,” he said. “I like the idea of none.”
Carlo glared at her.
She shrugged at Carlo. “What did you want me to do? I had to give it to him.”
“No, you didn’t,” he said. “You could have taken a few blows. But that’s the thing. You’re a woman. You give in too easily.” He nodded to the other gunman and said, “Finish the job.”
She stared at Carlo in shock. “What are you talking about?”
The first gunman cocked his gun and pointed it at her. She stared, her heart pounding, figuring out what her next step was. “So this was all you, Carlo?”
He nodded. “Absolutely it’s all me.” His tone was nasty. “I had to get that material from you somehow. It’s not like you would come home willingly. I was forced to hire a company to do the job for me. All an elaborate ruse. But it worked.” He ru
bbed his hands together with joy. “Now the best solution is for you to disappear somewhere. An accident …” He paused, thinking. “Maybe you didn’t reach the property, or you left early this morning.” He nodded and turned to the two gunmen. “I want no evidence left behind. Take her out, bury her and make sure no one’s left to tell the tale.”
She stared at the second gunman in horror as his gun turned toward her too.
Then ever-so-slowly both guns shifted to point at Carlo. He glared at them. “What are you doing?” He raised his hands in frustration. “You’re supposed to kill her.”
At that note, the second door in Carlo’s office, one that led to his sitting room, opened. And her grandfather stepped through. The ridge of anger on his face was something to behold.
“Granddad, you might not want to be here,” she warned. “It’s dangerous.”
He nodded gently. “It is, indeed. But not for you and not for me, only for that sick excuse of a son who I have.”
Carlo bounded to his feet, but the first gunman shoved him back down again.
Her grandfather looked at both of the masked men. “Thank you very much.”
They both lifted their hands and pulled the ski masks off their faces. It was Dezi and Reyes holding the guns on Carlo. She stared at them in shock, until Harrison and Anders stepped through the main office doors.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Earlier tonight we took out your father’s hired gunmen,” Harrison said, looking alive and well now, “and we took their places. It was the only way to figure out exactly what was going on.” He reached down and returned the USB key to Angelica. “Sorry for scaring you so badly. But we needed to make the most of the opportunity as it presented itself.”
Her grandfather stepped forward. “I caught them when they took out Carlo’s gunmen. It was my suggestion that they trade places with the intruders. I’m so sorry, my dear.”
She stood and ran toward him, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so sorry for you.”
He patted her shoulder clumsily. “No. I’ve known Carlo was no good for a long time. I just didn’t want to believe it. But I didn’t know about you. I’d have stopped him if I’d known.”
