by Kiru Taye
Ebuka gasped.
Mottled scar tissue marked her legs and hips while welts covered her back.
“Stand,” he said.
As if reluctant to show and yet reluctant to disobey him, she pushed off her elbows slowly.
The dark scars continued to her belly like a rising wave.
His mouth dried out, his heart aching with concern for her.
“What happened to you?” his voice was low.
She turned her head away, jaw clenched. “I was in a fire.”
He couldn’t explain the overwhelming need to protect her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her nothing would hurt her again.
Reaching across, he tried to touch her.
She flinched, jerking the table.
“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” he said, voice gentle.
True, he’d been angry with her for drugging him.
But seeing the scars flipped his anger at the circumstance that caused her to hurt. He wanted to hurt whoever hurt her because now he understood her loneliness. It echoed the desperation he’d felt the past few months.
Sometimes when he watched her, and she didn’t know, she seemed like someone weighed by troubles, like a soul tormented. In those unguarded moments, he saw a haunted woman, and his constant anger and suspicion subsided. The protectiveness he felt for the people he cared for came to the surface.
He put the knife down on the counter. “Can I touch you?”
She stared at him for seconds that dragged. Then she nodded.
Lifting his right hand, he traced the smooth, raised, hard skin on her side gently, moving up to her back. The demarcation between the different damaged areas was visible.
Now he understood why she chose clothes that hid them even in the warm weather. She hadn’t worn shorts or skirts.
He traced fingers on her belly. She twisted away.
“Let me touch you,” he said gently, trying to coax her.
“I’m grotesque,” she said in a tight voice. “You didn’t want me before. I know you won’t want me now.”
Frowning, he leaned back. “Why do you think I don’t want you?”
Her shoulders lifted and fell. “You didn’t want me last night.”
“Look at me,” he ordered.
He had slipped into his natural, instinctually assertive role. Binding her to the table, contributed to the switch in his brain.
Then again she hadn’t put up a fight just now when he tackled her. Not like she’d done in the car.
So, when she obeyed and turned her head to meet his gaze, a mix of concern and pleasure skittered across his flesh. He was falling into her snare and yet delight skittered along his nerve endings when she gave herself without reserve.
“Do I look like someone who doesn’t know what he wants?”
He surveyed her body. She was lean, muscular, breast and bum equally proportioned, dark, taut nipples, flat tummy and strip of bush over her pussy. The scars and welts only added to her beauty.
He still wanted to explore her body, stroke her flesh, pinch her nipples and taste her pussy.
“No,” she murmured.
“Last night, I wanted you.” He walked around to her back and pressed his groin against her bum.
Her breath hitched as he leaned in and whispered close to her right ear. “I still want your hot mouth on my dick. I want to savour sliding across your wet lips and watch you swallow my cum.”
Her breath came out in shallow pants.
Blood rushed in his ears as his dick filled out. He rocked his hips. “Can you feel how much I want you?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out raspy.
He slid hands around her, fingers tweaking one nipple while a palm covered her labia.
She shivered and let out a sigh.
Her skin was soft and slippery as he pushed an index finger against her slit.
Her body tensed briefly and relaxed as he pushed inside her warm wet flesh. Her breathing became heavy, and she clenched, sucking his digit all the way to the root.
He slid it out and added another one, controlling her. The other hand moulding her breasts, one after the other.
“So, you know how much I want to fuck you, fill you up and stretch you until all you can feel is me?”
“Yes,” she moaned as her insides contracted around his fingers. He withdrew his hands.
She moaned in frustration.
Smiling, he walked over to the sink and washed his hands before facing her.
“I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you. But I’m not going to fuck you until I get some answers from you.”
Her gaze searched his before she nodded. “Ask me what you want to know.”
“I will.” He traced her stomach with fingertips. His heart clutched in his chest.
The fire had been merciless and melted the skin, and it had been grafted with healthy skin. But there was a trace of welts at the edges around her hip where it still seemed to be healing. He touched the scars tentatively.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. But it’s a little sensitive.”
He tangled fingers in the short hair on her nape. The scars on her body fascinated him, but he saw beyond the physical marks to the damaged and lonely woman.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Don’t say that.”
She sounded fractured, lost. A broken assassin.
And he yearned for her. He hadn’t realised how much until now.
Were his feelings for Xandra clouded because she was the first person to show him affection in months after the ordeal he’d been through? Was his mind playing tricks?
Whatever the case, he had to show her that she could trust him.
“It's true, and I’m saying it.” Standing beside Xan, he held her head still so she could meet his gaze.
There was much to deal with beyond these walls and this island. A family who needed him. But right here and now, Xandra needed him too, and he couldn’t let her down. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
He kissed her lush lips. The familiar sensation sizzled down his spine, images of the two of them in a room flitted quickly through his mind and was gone.
She let out a moan and opened to him, body relaxing in his hold.
He lifted his head and said, “Don’t ever doubt anything I tell you.”
“It’s tough to do that.” The tone of her voice and the expression on her face said that it was more challenging for her to admit the flaw. “I struggle to let people close. You’re the only one who’s seen me like this, apart from the medics who treated me.”
Eyes widening, he studied her. “Surely you had friends visit you while you were healing.”
Someone must have helped her.
“I had a caregiver visit the house in the city to change the dressing and top up my prescriptions, but I didn’t want anyone else to see me like this. As soon as I was strong enough to drive, I came out here.”
His breath constricted, and his chest felt tight.
She had been out here on her own, recovering. He couldn’t imagine not having any support. The loneliness. The isolation.
Xandra had chosen to insulate herself.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he gently massaged her nape. “You’re not on your own anymore. I promise you. But I must go home. I have a ranch, and family members who I’m sure are anxious about me. Let me go and take care of them. I promise you I’ll come back to you afterwards.”
She stiffened and pulled back.
“Nobody ever leaves this island,” she said in a sombre tone.
A finger of dread travelled down his spine. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that anyone who comes here doesn’t get to leave. Nobody apart from me knows about this island. It’s my haven. My safe place.”
He stared into her eyes that looked like cold grey metal. She was deadly serious.
“That can’t be right. What about the people who built this place? They know about it.”
“They knew about it. Now they’re all dead.”
His stomach rolled. “You killed them?”
“I had to. I couldn’t take the chance that one of them would talk.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. This was who she was. It didn’t sit well with him, but he had to accept it.
“I promise you, I’ll come back. I just can’t stay here not knowing what’s happened to my family.”
“The last time you made a promise, you broke it,” she said in a matter of fact voice.
His cheeks heated. He had promised to behave in the car and hadn’t. “We didn’t know each other well enough then. I didn’t trust you. I trust you now.”
“Then you should know that if I let you leave and you don’t come back to me, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”
TWENTY-ONE
EBUKA STIFFENED and backed away.
Never had a threat to his life sounded deadlier, even though the person who had spoken the words was currently tied to the table immobile.
Xandra had uttered the words with clear intent and in a relaxed manner. It seemed as if danger oozed from her pores.
He had no doubt she would carry out the threat.
Ebuka paced the kitchen. Late sunlight beamed in, casting long shadows of the furniture.
Under normal circumstances, he would like to come back to this island.
She has worked with the environment to create a sustainable lifestyle, the same as he had done at the ranch.
But did he want to get involved with a person like Xandra? A cold-blooded killer. Once upon a time, he would not have minded. But he had turned his back on that life.
However, the likes of Ralph Nweke had been harassing him since, thinking he had turned soft. And he still needed to get to the bottom of how he got abducted and imprisoned.
What other choice did he have? He needed to get off this island.
And Xandra was the key to getting the answers he needed. He would have to deal with the implication of coming back here when it happened.
He returned to Xandra.
Surprising that she still hadn’t moved from the spot. She was naked and tied up in her own house, and she didn’t look perturbed.
She was a complicated person. A master who took pleasure in service. A killer who had no qualms about being tied up. If she wanted to cause him harm, she would have broken out of the bond and hurt him already.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can tell you now, I won’t tell anyone about this island. Once I sort out what I need to do back at the ranch, I’ll come back here if you still want me.”
Would she accept his words? His heart thudded as he waited for her to speak. She stared at him for several seconds.
“Okay. We’ll go to the mainland so you can do what you need to do,” she said finally.
He puffed out the breath he’d been holding as relief washed over him. He stepped up to her and gripped her nape, staring into her grey eyes before kissing her briefly.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he said.
Her mouth curled up at the corner in a slow smile. “Well, if you’re not going to fuck me, maybe you should untie me so I can get dressed and we can talk.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Good idea.”
He loved seeing her bare, but if they were going to talk practicalities, then it was best to get some clothes on her before he lost control and did what he’d regret. He took the knife from the counter and sliced the tapes off.
While she headed out to find some new clothes, he cleared out the mess from the torn ones. Then he loaded the pantry and fridge with the items from the grocery box. He opened the grill, stuck two beef steaks on it and set about preparing a salad to go with it.
“What are you doing?”
He turned to find Xandra standing by the door in a pair of shorts and a tank top. This was the first time he saw her in shorts. There was some scarring visible on her calves and thighs. Now that he’d seen the rest of her there was no point wearing clothes that hid all the scars.
“I’m making dinner,” he said and waved at the table. “You can get the table ready.”
Her eyebrow arched, but she didn’t say anything as she went about wiping the surface and putting out the placemats and eating utensils.
How did he end up in an almost domestic situation with an assassin? He finished the preparation and served up the food.
“Did you sedate me because you had to go out for groceries?” he asked, stabbing a string of green beans with the fork.
She glanced up, shook her head and carried on chewing. He waited as she took a sip of water.
“Not exactly. I must go away for a few days on a job. I went out to buy the items for you so you’ll have enough until I get back.”
“You were going to leave me here alone?”
“As I said before, I had no intentions of letting you leave this island. I knew you’d be safe here until I got back.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. You’ll come with me to Opal City when I head out in a couple of days.”
Exhaling in relief that she would keep to her promise of letting him off this island, his pulse rate picked up at the thought that she was going on a job to kill someone.
Somebody out there had a hit on their head.
His chest constricted, and he struggled to breathe.
Standing, he took the empty plate to the sink. “I thought you said you were staying off the grid.”
She came to stand beside him with her dishes and placed them in the sink. “I am. It’s a special request from Tiye Himba. He wants me to do a job for one of his associates. I got more interested when I saw the name of the target. A high-ranking member of one of the most prominent families in the Yadili network.”
Interest piqued, he turned and leaned on the counter, flipping the towel over his shoulder.
The name Himba sounded familiar. He’d heard Ralph Nweke mention him. “Himba is your boss, right?”
“I wasn’t on his payroll if that’s what you mean. But he introduced me to the game and took me into his fold. As a sponsor, he takes a percentage of my fees for each kill.”
“And he wants to kill a cartel boss?”
“Not him. An associate of his. The Baron.” Xandra poured more wine into his glass. “Who’s that?” he asked, surprised she was talking about all this.
If she was going to trust him enough to let him off the island, then she should trust him enough to tell him this. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“John Bull Owo. He’s the kingpin up in Lori Osa. Controls the drug routes and the brothels. Also connected with the political elite.”
“I know of him.” He turned and put away the dried plates that Xandra had washed. These people were heavy hitters. Dangerous. Deadly.
Why was she going to Opal City when Lori Osa was a different region? “So, the person you’re going to kill. Is he a rival of Owo’s?”
“Not that I’m aware of. The Odilis own casinos. Gambling is their thing. I can’t see how that clashes with Owo’s drug cartel.”
Gambling he could live with. Drugs not so much. His scalp prickled though.
“How does this work? They call you up and say, ‘we want you to kill x, y and z’, and you decide I’ll kill x and y but not z?”
How did she justify killing these people? How did she live with herself afterwards? He wanted to understand her.
“It’s not my place to determine who lives or dies. I’m the executioner. I look at the name, gather info and do the job.”
“Really? You don’t feel any kind of guilt or remorse when you go out to do these things. Those are human beings you kill. Someone’s son, father, brother, uncle or friend. Don’t you care?”
Her body stiffened, and the shutters came down. He had gone too far.
“Why should I care if some guy out there lives or dies? If they’re on my list, then they are not innocent.” She paced away and came back. “And why are you bothered about Duke Odili? He is an underboss, heir apparent t
o the Odili clan. He’s part of this life, and he knows what it entails. Death comes to the best of us.”
His brain got stuck on the name, and he barely processed the rest of her words. He knew that name. “Did you say Duke Odili?”
She frowned. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“No.” It wasn’t a lie as he didn’t know the man personally, just his family. Xandra studied his face as if she didn’t believe him.
So, he added, “The name sounds familiar like old family friends. I used to know an Odili family when I was a child.”
It was the truth. His father, Oganiru, had worked for Daniel Odili, his wife Bisola and their son Duke. The last time Ebuka saw Duke, they’d been boys.
She nodded as if in acceptance of his words.
“I didn’t mean to shout at you. It’s just that I couldn’t help thinking about the situation and what it would feel like to be the target.”
The lines around her eyes softened, and her shoulders relaxed.
“I understand,” she said in a soft tone. “But trust me when I say, any man who makes it onto the hit-list is a dead man. Because even if I don’t kill him, someone else will take up the job and finish it. Duke Odili is a dead man. At least this way, I get the fee that comes with the contract.”
Something niggled in Ebuka’s mind.
“At the auction house, you said that the two of us knew each other before. How did we meet?”
She leaned her body against the counter and looked at him. “Are you sure you want to know the answer to that question?”
“Of course, I do. Tell me.”
“Then I’m going to sit down because it’s a long story and I want to be comfortable.” She grabbed the bottle of wine and headed outside.
Ebuka followed her and settled on one of the deck chairs on the veranda.
She poured wine and gulped down the full glass without taking a breath. “I’m going to need something stronger than wine to talk about this.”
She shifted, pushing off the chair and entered the house.
Ebuka followed and placed a hand on her shoulder when she opened and slammed the door of a drawer. “Stop.”
She bent over the counter. Her body trembled.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He coaxed her gently until she turned. But she kept her gaze fixed away.
