When everything was back in its place, she put water on the two-plate stove and turned on the gas. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
He made himself as comfortable as he could on the small corner bench by the table. “Why did you choose to live here? I have firsthand knowledge of how extortionate your rates are, so it can’t be the money.”
“This is Doumar’s idea of keeping me down to earth.” She gave a wry smile. “Of reminding me my place.”
“You’re not married.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Of course not.”
“You’re more to him than just an employee, but you’re not his wife, and you’re not one of his prostitutes, yet, he controls you to the extent of what you wear and where you live.”
Scooping ground coffee into a French press, she didn’t look at him when she said, “Why do you say that?”
“The clothes you wore at the club are very different to what you wear when you’re alone. It’s not you. What did he mean when he said you’re property?”
She turned to face him and leaned on the counter, as if she needed support. “That I belong to him.”
“If this is how he treats you,” he looked around the trashy, meager space, “he doesn’t love you.” His gaze slipped to the tattoo on her breast that peeked from the neckline of the dress, the emblem of the Dutchman’s business. “Doumar bought you, didn’t he?”
The water boiled with a shrill whistle. She turned off the gas and reverted her attention to preparing the coffee as if the question didn’t carry weight.
The thought was too disconcerting. It was vital that he knew. Now. “Answer me, Sky. Are you his slave?”
Shame crept into her eyes, but she didn’t avert them. “Yes.”
The world dipped as the truth hit him. There were willing slaves, as in BDSM play, and then there were real slaves, the kind who cost money. Had she sold herself? Had she needed the money that badly, or was it worse? Yes, she’d never sell herself. It could only be worse.
He clenched his hands under the table. “Who sold you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
“Why? What’s done is done.”
“Whoever sold you took away your freedom, and therefore deserves to die.” He’d kill the bastard himself.
“Fate already took care of that. She’s long dead.”
“She?”
“My grandmother.”
Suppressing the urge to grab her, soothe her, spit on her grandmother’s grave, and kill that bastard Doumar, he sat calmly, waiting for her to pour the coffee. When she put a cup in front of him and sat down on the bench, he dragged her into his lap, keeping his arms lightly around her.
He kept pity and anger from his voice. She wouldn’t want either. “How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
A child. Goddamn. “Was it the money?”
“There was that, yes, and the fact that I was cursed.”
“Or blessed,” he said, “with seeing the future.”
“Or the past.”
He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “If he lets you live alone, I assume he’s not keeping you for sex.”
“Very perceptive.”
Of course. She had to be earning Doumar a lot of money. “It’s your fortune telling skill he needs.” Still, Doumar had acted more like a jealous lover than a greedy owner. Something didn’t add up. “Slavery is illegal. He can’t stop you if you want to walk away.” Or maybe she didn’t. Did she love that son of a bitch?
Turning so that she straddled him, she slipped her arms around his neck. “Your coffee is getting cold.”
He cupped her face. “Sky, listen to me, and listen carefully. This changes everything. If Doumar only owns you in some warped, fucked up, illegal way, all the rules as they stand are null and void. The hands-off policy no longer applies, do you understand? In my eyes, you’re no longer another man’s woman. You’re open prey. I’ll chase you, and I’ll chase you hard. Tell me now, and I’ll take you away from him,” he looked around the space, “from all of these theatrics that’s not you.” He’d risk his life and his position in the team to save her if she was being held against her will.
Wide-eyed, she stared at him. “I can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
She parted her lips but before she could answer, the door banged into the caravan wall. Sky jerked in fright. He sheltered her in his arms, assessing the threat with a quick, practiced glance.
Doumar stood on the step, carrying something in his arms and swaying on his feet.
Chapter Five
In his arms, Doumar didn’t clutch a weapon, but a cat. The asshole was drunk. It took everything Bono had not to bash the fucker’s head in right then and there. The only thing preventing him was the woman on his lap. Sky didn’t need the violence. He’d do it when the motherfucker was sober and they were alone.
“I didn’t know you had company,” Doumar said, letting himself in as if he owned the place, which he did, of course. “Mr. Black, right?”
“Right,” Bono said stiffly.
Sky pulled her skirt down from where it had hitched up to her thigh. “What are you doing here?” she asked, fidgeting with the hem.
He stroked the cat’s head. “Brought you a pet.”
She stared at the cat. Her throat moved as she swallowed.
“The pussy needs a place to stay while I’m moving. I thought you’d like the company. Don’t you want it?”
“I … of course.”
He walked over to the bed and sat down. “What do we say?”
“Thank you.”
The cat jumped from his hold and started to sniff around.
Doumar patted his knee. “Come here, baby. Come give me a kiss.”
Bono tensed. The Dutchman had no right to lay a finger on her, and he wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen. With him to protect her, he fully expected Sky to refuse Doumar’s command, but she caught him off guard when she started to lift her body off his lap.
Bono grabbed her wrist. He held her eyes and said in a low voice, “You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.”
Despite his unspoken message, that he’d take out Doumar without blinking his one good eye, she gently freed her arm, and got to her feet. She removed his jacket and laid it over his knee. Without sparing him as much as a backward glance, she walked to Doumar and sat down in his lap. When he tilted his head, she wrapped her arms around Doumar’s neck and pressed her lips to his, not much different from how she’d embraced him at the amusement park.
Anger, deception, and the knowledge that he’d been used flooded his senses, leaving him as bitter as the untouched coffee on the table. His mind was clear enough to realize he was guilty of the same, but the fact didn’t expel the feelings. It was his turn to be on the receiving end of her unspoken message. He got it loud and clear. She was done playing with him, at least for tonight. Well, he was long from being done with her.
Sky was still kissing Doumar when he showed himself out.
~ * ~
It was sickening to let Bono go, especially like that, but it was the only way to protect him. If Doumar’s jealousy got the upper hand, if he suspected for one moment how she acted with Bono was real, he’d put a bullet in Bono’s head and hurt Niels to get back at her.
When she reckoned Bono was long gone, she broke the kiss. Years of practice had taught her to swallow her repulsion.
Doumar’s breath was laced with brandy. “Did you fuck him?”
“No.”
“It looked like fucking to me.”
“We had our clothes on. You saw for yourself.”
“You were going to.”
She got up. “Why did you really come here? You ruined my chance to get information. Godfrey will be upset.”
He was on his feet so fast he nearly knocked her down. He grabbed hold of her hair, jerking down until her neck arched. “Don’t you dare threaten me with
running to Godfrey.”
“I’m not going to run to anyone, but he’ll kill us if we don’t give him what he wants.”
He let go of her with a shove. “He’ll get what he wants, and I’ll get what I want.”
“What do you want, Doumar?”
He brushed his hands over his head and lifted his face to the ceiling.
Sensing his anguish and seeing a gap that rarely opened to her, she touched his arm. “I know you don’t want me, not really. It must be tiring, constantly controlling and manipulating me, worrying that I’ll get away. I can still work for you. You can have the money without all this constant waste of energy. Set me free,” she urged gently. “Let our son go, and I will always work for you.”
His back went rigid. His muscles froze. It was a risk to speak like that, but she had to try. Slowly, he turned back to her. The rage that filled his eyes was scary. Before she’d backtracked one step, his arm lifted and his backhand slammed into her mouth. The force of the impact sent her flying. On her way down, her head hit the corner of the dressing table. Sparks popped across her vision from the pain. Sprawled out on the floor, the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She was too dizzy to get up. She could only follow the path of Doumar’s boots with her eyes as he closed the two steps between them, coming to a stop next to her. It was a situation she’d experienced many times before. She knew what was coming even before the tip of his boot connected with her ribs. Curling into herself, she tried to protect her stomach, but the kick did its damage anyway, knocking out her wind. Air wheezed through her teeth.
Doumar crouched down next to her. “Don’t ever talk like that again. You’re going nowhere. I own you, baby, until the day you die.”
The leather of his pants creaked when he straightened. His footsteps on the raised floor of the caravan vibrated through her body as he walked to the door.
“Take care of our son’s cat. He’ll want it back when he’s in his new house.”
She didn’t look at him as he shut the door. Her body remained tight until she heard the engine of a car start up and tires screech on the tarmac. Only then did she relax her muscles one by one, giving in to the pain. Her head throbbed, and her stomach cramped. It took effort to get onto her hands and knees. She pulled herself up on the vanity to assess the damage in the mirror. Her lip was split, but other than that there was no visible damage, only what would be hidden under her clothes.
Unable to straighten, she clutched her stomach and stumbled to the kitchenette. She reached for the cupboard to take down two aspirins and groaned at the pain that stabbed at her belly and side. Not bothering with a glass, she took milk from the mini fridge and drank straight from the carton to swallow down the pills. Then she made her way bent over to the bed, and curled into a fetal position. For all her anger and pain, her eyes remained dry. She’d long since stopped giving Doumar the power of her tears. The cat joined her, nestling against her back. There was comfort in his presence, knowing it was a connection to Niels. His warm body and soft purr helped to soothe her as she wondered about her son, and where he was sleeping, tonight.
~ * ~
Fuming with rage, Bono arrived at the base. At that late hour, only Maya was up.
He stomped into the lounge where she worked on an ePad. “Where are the others?”
“Cain is on the phone. Joss and Clelia are putting surveillance up around the club, and Lann and Sara took over my shift in the van. Ivan and Sean are sleeping.”
“I’ll let Lann know I’m home.”
She followed him to the kitchen. “No need. They’ll see it on the monitor and head back.” Leaning on the wall, her eyes followed his movements as he slammed items for a sandwich down on the counter. “I take it your seduction didn’t go well.”
“She played me.” He stacked lettuce and cold meat on a slice of bread. “I almost fell for it, until her boyfriend showed up.”
“Doumar?”
“Who else?” He spread a thick layer of mayo over the other slice and slapped it on top of the meat. “He bought her.”
“As in paid money for her?”
“Yes, and she doesn’t want to leave him.”
Her face lit up with understanding. “You’re disappointed. You want to justify her.”
From all the people in the team, Joss aside, he knew Maya and Lann the longest. Maya was tough, a hard shell on the outside, but she had a good heart and a level head. He trusted and respected her judgment.
Sighing, he leaned his palms on the countertop. “Why would a slave love her jailer?”
“Stockholm syndrome?”
“He doesn’t sleep with her. She admitted it herself. Chances are he’s only keeping her for the money she makes. Why doesn’t she walk away? He can’t hold her.”
“Maybe he’s threatening her.”
“Tonight, I was there to protect her. One word from her and I would’ve taken her away from him, but she chose that scumbag.”
Maya crossed her arms. “That would’ve screwed up the mission. If you take her away from the enemy, how is she supposed to feed you the info?”
“I’ll never risk your lives, but damn, there’s something about her.”
“Is this your dick or your head speaking?”
He placed a palm on his chest. “My heart.”
“Are you sure it’s intelligent to listen to your heart on this?”
“You know I’m a man who lives by my gut. It’s saved my life plenty a time, both in the air and down on the ground.”
“What is your gut telling you about her?”
He uttered a labored sigh. “I don’t know. That she’s using me.”
“Like you’re using her? Are you sure it’s not your guilt talking?”
“You’re a woman. Tell me, Maya. Why would she kiss me, allow me to spill my guts, and then stomp on it by making a show of kissing Doumar in front of me? Is she trying to make me jealous?”
“I don’t know her. I can’t tell. What I can say from personal experience is that things aren’t always what they seem. You know what happened between me and Tim.”
“Did your gut warn you?”
“I guess. I just didn’t listen.” She walked over and placed a hand on his arm. “Bono, I love you. You’re my friend. You’re the godfather of our children. Please don’t make them orphans again. We’ve only just adopted. I know it’s a big responsibility, but all of our lives are riding on how well you handle this mission, and Cain wouldn’t have trusted you with the responsibility if he didn’t believe in you. Don’t make him regret his decision.”
He placed a hand over hers. “I promise I won’t put you in danger. You’re my family. It’s something I’ve got to work out for myself, but I won’t let my feelings override my common sense.”
Her eyes searched his. After a short while, she gave a curt nod. “I trust you. I won’t say anything to Cain.”
“Thanks. Much appreciated.”
She squeezed his arm and gave it a pat. “How about mixing us both a cocktail?”
“We’re on the job. Besides, you know my cocktail mixing skills suck. You should ask Sean.”
“Already did.” She winked. “He said more or less the same thing about being on duty.”
Cain walked into the kitchen, cutting their banter short. “That was Alice on the phone. She says hello. How did it go, Bono?”
He shot Maya a quick look, but her expression was blank. For a nerve-wrecking moment he thought about what they said about Cain. Could he really read minds? Nah. Impossible. Some of the tenseness left his shoulders.
“Slow progress,” he said, “but determination is not my strongest trait for nothing.”
~ * ~
“Why are we meeting here?” Doumar said in a disgruntled voice.
Sky sat across from him next to Godfrey in the back of a Limo. Godfrey’s driver had taken the road to Haarlem, and they were driving around the countryside.
“Precaution. Jones will be watching the club. I don’t want him to kno
w I’m in Amsterdam. When I strike, it has to come as a complete surprise.”
“What is this Jones to you, anyway?”
“An old enemy.” He turned to Sky. “Did you find out anything, last night?”
Doumar gave her a warning look that said not to mention his interruption.
“That Bono is an excellent shot.”
“How did you figure that out?” Doumar asked, the bite in his voice not quite hidden.
“I took him to the amusement park. He hit every target in the shooting game.”
“Amusing,” Godfrey said, “but hardly worthwhile. Did he carry a weapon?”
“I didn’t get to search him, but none that I could see.”
“I take it you didn’t get naked because someone interrupted your work, your most valuable work that will cost you your son’s life should you not succeed.”
Doumar blanched under Godfrey’s pointed stare.
Turning all of his attention on Doumar, Godfrey continued, “I suspect my message of yesterday hasn’t been clear enough.”
The laugh Doumar forced didn’t sound convincing. “I got it, no worries.”
“Did you?” Godfrey crossed his wrists over his knees. “Then tell me, just so we’re clear.”
“You’re the boss.”
“I own you, and therefore I own everything that belongs to you, including her.” Godfrey jammed a finger in her direction. “If I tell her to fuck Mr. Black and the whole of Cain Jones’s army, I expect her to obey, and for you not to stand in her way.”
Doumar worked his jaw, but he kept his mouth shut.
The car came to an abrupt halt.
“What are you doing?” Doumar said, looking nervously through the tinted window.
A second later, the door on Doumar’s side opened. A man with a balaclava pointed a gun at him.
“Get out,” Godfrey said.
“Whoa.” Doumar lifted his hands. “I was drunk, man. It won’t happen again.”
At Godfrey’s slight nod, the masked man pulled Doumar from the car. Two more armed men waited to pat him down. Sky watched with growing dread. If they killed Doumar, Niels might be lost to her forever. Doumar looked around with staccato movements of his head. From her side of the car, she saw three bulky, masked men standing a short distance away in the tall grass.
Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 8) Page 6
