Capturing Victory (Driven Hearts Book 3)

by Nikita Slater

  “Haty,” she said, her voice rough from swallowing too much water. “You’re going to have to swim once this thing goes down. J-just promise if you see I-Ivan…” Her teeth chattered so hard, from either fear or cold, maybe both, she could barely speak. The helicopter sank steadily until only the tiny portion Jaya clung to was above the surface still. “P-promise you’ll bite his nose off if you can. J-just wait until he’s asleep then you get him good. Okay, baby kitty? Revenge for mama?”

  Jaya cried out in despair as the helicopter sank below the surface completely. “Oh god!” she yelled as she kicked and thrashed in an attempt not to get dragged under with the sinking machine. “Go, Haty!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jaya was just lifting off from the helicopter pad when his men managed to get Ivan through the first door. It took two minutes to get him the rest of the way through the security wing, which she’d locked down tight. Keane was bellowing into his radio, sending men to the docks and the airstrip.

  “Where do you want to go, boss?” Keane asked. “Boat or plane.”

  “Dock,” Ivan snapped grimly without further explanation. He stalked through the building toward the nearest boat dock. Given the sloppy way she’d taken off in the helicopter he didn’t think she was going to make it far. Nothing in his background checks on her or his experience with her told him she was a pilot. He highly doubted her ability to make it to the mainland in one piece. He just prayed she wasn’t badly injured if she did crash.

  When he arrived at the dock, it was to find one of his fastest boats prepped and ready to leave. Ivan leaped onto the craft, Keane right behind him. Something crackled over Keane’s radio that made them all freeze.

  “She’s down. Bird’s in the water and sinking fast.”

  “Move out!” Keane shouted.

  The boat shot forward, the man piloting it smart enough to use full throttle without being told. Keane took up post by the captain and gave him instructions while Ivan scanned the water for wreckage. The boat flew, skimming the salty waves of the Java Sea as the men frantically sped toward Ivan’s sinking captive.

  “There.” Keane was the first to spot her. He pointed toward the horizon. Ivan whipped his head to the side, shading his eyes. He saw the black of the helicopter as it struggled against the battering of waves. “We’re not going to make it in time, she’s going under.”

  “We better,” Ivan said grimly, gripping the edge of the boat in both hands. He kicked off his shoes and waited, tension thrumming through his muscles. “Get close, but not close enough to overwhelm the thing with fresh waves. We’ll only sink it faster.”

  “Too late,” Keane pointed out. “It just went under. Can see your girl though, she’s waving her arms around like a damn fish on dry land. What’s wrong with her? That’s not how you swim.”

  “I don’t think she can swim,” Ivan growled. He’d never in his life felt more helpless than he did in that moment when he watched a wave hit Jaya. Her flailing arms disappeared beneath the choppy white-capped waves. “Cut the engine,” he snarled.

  The second the engine stopped he was in the water and swimming toward her in powerful strides. Relief shot through him when he saw her head break the surface again and her arms wave weakly. She turned and looked at him, her dark eyes, which had been dull and hopeless, lit up with a relief to match his. “Ivan!” she cried and tried reaching for him. Unfortunately, her lack of flailing sent her back under.

  “Jaya!” he shouted, forcing his body to cut through the waves faster. He could hear someone in the water behind him. He reached her just as her hand breached the water in one last desperate flail. He took hold of her wrist and yanked, pulling her right out of the water and into his arms.

  Ivan decided that he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Jaya spitting water out of her mouth, coughing, her eyes and nose streaming. She flung her arms around him and sobbed as though she were dying. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tread water with the other.

  “H-h-haty,” she cried brokenly. “I lost her!”

  “Got ‘er,” Keane grumbled from beside them and held a limp bedraggled kitten up by the scruff of her neck.

  Jaya reached out and snatched her cat, pulling her in between hers and Ivan’s bodies and hugging her tight. She lay limp against Ivan as though she had no more energy left to either fight or swim. She was simply allowing him to hold her up while his men pulled the boat closer. He was stunned that she was trusting him to keep her alive, though she’d been in danger in the first place because she’d tried to escape him. He couldn’t understand what was going through her mind.

  The boat was now close enough to finish the rescue. His men reached for her, but Ivan refused to give her up. They’d just have to pull his heavy ass out of the water with his bedraggled burden. This was why he paid them the big bucks. When he tried to tug Haty from Jaya’s arms, the kitty lifted her head and hissed at him, which woke Jaya from her half stupor.

  “No!” Jaya protested, squeezing Haty tighter against her neck.

  Ivan growled and looked toward Keane who was keeping pace with them. “I guess we’re all going up together. You can help lift from the bottom if you can get a good grip while the others pull from above.”

  Keane grinned, showing his teeth and said, “Okay boss, but if I touch something of yours I shouldn’t, don’t shoot me later.”

  Ivan grunted in response and wrapped his arms firmly around Jaya. Two of his men gripped him beneath his arms and lifted, bracing themselves against the edge of the boat. He could feel the whole thing rocking under their combined weight but could only concentrate on the woman in his arms. He had one arm wrapped around her waist while she snuggled against him, protecting her kitty. He shifted his hand to protect her head just in case she fell as they were lifted over the side.

  As soon as he was on his feet in the boat he shrugged his men off and knelt with Jaya in his arms. The cat crawled weakly up her neck and snuggled into her hair. Jaya kept her arms around Ivan’s throat as though she were still in danger of drowning if she let him go. Her legs were bent back beneath her. Her delicate feet were bare, the toes curled against the cold. Her shoes must have fallen off and sunk into the ocean depths while she fought desperately for her life.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmured, smoothing the hair back on her forehead.

  She nodded and leaned her head against his chest. Once again, he was amazed at the way she seemed to trust him. For now, at least. “Let’s move,” he snapped, not looking up. He needed to get her home and start warming her up. Shivers were wracking her body and though he was certain it wasn’t entirely from the warm waters of the Java sea, he knew she would feel better once she was dried off and the terror of nearly drowning was behind her.

  She tilted her head back and looked at him, her eyes dull with exhaustion. He expected accusation and anger but saw none of that. She licked her lips and then made a face when she tasted saltiness. The edge of his lip quirked up. She looked adorable, even half drowned. He covered her head with a protective hand and pulled her against his chest. She didn’t resist. In fact, she seemed to wholeheartedly accept the comfort he was offering. She gripped the edge of his shirt in one hand and held on tight while they raced back toward the island.

  If he could have held on to that moment he probably would have, only he would have had to somehow shut his men out of the picture. He loved the way Jaya clung to him, helpless and seeking comfort, grateful to be alive. He wanted her dependence. He wanted her life in his hands and he wanted it willing. He was beginning to realize in the short time that he’d spent with her that his icy heart, dead since the age of fourteen, was beginning to beat again and it was beating solely for the woman shivering against him. Now he wanted her locked down tighter than ever. Hidden from all danger, including any she could cause herself. And he wasn’t willing to compromise. He was a man used to getting what he wanted. His single-minded pursuit of profit had taught him exactly how to attain the things he wanted
, and he would succeed with Jaya. Whether she liked it or not.

  Until he met her, he’d been content to face a lifetime alone, an empire beneath his feet, the world his playground. Now he wanted more. He wanted the soft, keenly intelligent woman in his arms to walk at his side. Even if he had to chain her to him and force her compliance. Eventually she would weaken. She would have to. Her heart was capable of so much more than his. Even with a mind tainted by her past, causing her to hide herself in basements and connect only through the virtual world, her heart was still beautiful and whole. He would prey on her weaknesses until she bent to him and him alone.

  “Ivan,” she said hoarsely into his chest.

  He smoothed some of the drying strands off her forehead and tipped her head back so he could see her face. It was streaked with drying tears. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for saving us,” she whispered, her lips inches from his, fresh tears sparkling in her eyes. “I didn’t want to die.”

  Ivan nodded and, ignoring his men, dropped his head to her ear, skimming her cheek with his lips along the way. “You belong to me. I won’t let you go, not even death gets to take you.” He knew his words weren’t comforting but they were the truth.

  She jerked in his arms and narrowed her eyes at him. “That was very Heathcliff, Ivan. No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

  He frowned and then chuckled at her audacity. Here she was sitting on her kidnapper’s lap, speeding back toward his home, and she was accusing him of not having any friends. He leaned back to see her facial expressions better, glad that she was still clinging to his shirt, though he wasn’t sure if she was aware of her action. “What makes you think I don’t have any friends?”

  She glanced over at Keane and said, “Hey, asshole, do you like this guy? Would you call him a friend?”

  Keane raised a thick red eyebrow and let out a booming laugh. “Awe, fuck no! That fucker’d kill a guy as soon as look at him. And I never seen him drink a beer. Can’t fully trust a man that won’t sit and have a pint with me.”

  “Fuck you, Keane,” Ivan said in a dignified voice and dropped his chin against the top of Jaya’s head.

  She giggled and held him a little tighter. Something within him relaxed a little. He felt less frantic as they reached the dock, though he insisted on lifting her into his arms and holding her against his chest as he stepped off the boat. She didn’t complain or try to push him away. He knew this was a temporary thing, but he would still enjoy the submissive Jaya while he had her.

  “Make sure no one disturbs us,” he said to Keane, who kept pace with him as he strode toward his private wing. “Do what you have to do to get things running again.”

  Keane nodded sharply. “Yes, boss.” He veered to the left and headed for the security wing giving Ivan and Jaya their privacy.

  Ivan carried Jaya the rest of the way to his private quarters and entered the code, allowing them access. He pushed the door open and carried her over the threshold. She lifted her head and looked around.

  “I feel like I could sleep for a week,” she said with a yawn.

  “Soon,” he said, carrying her through to the washroom and setting her on her feet.

  She stared up at him with wide eyes, caught somewhere between trust and wariness. Ivan reached for her neck and gently extracted the slumbering kitten who immediately woke and began protesting. “Take off your clothes,” he instructed in a voice he hoped was both commanding and gentle at the same time. He carried the rapidly drying critter, her striped fur spiked up in every direction, into the bedroom and settled her on her kitty bed where she curled up and closed her eyes with a deep sigh of contentment. When he returned to the washroom Jaya was still clinging to the edge of the counter fully clothed.

  Ivan gently pried her fingers from the edge of the granite counter and lifted her hands between their bodies. “Jaya, you’re shaking like a leaf,” he said calmly. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes and into the shower. Trust me, you’ll feel much better once the salt is washed from your skin and you feel warm again.”

  Her teeth began to chatter, and her eyes filled with tears. She looked down and away from him, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Ivan.”

  “You need to shower, Jaya,” he said firmly. “Either you take your clothes off and do it yourself or I do it for you.”

  Her eyes snapped to him and narrowed. Ordinarily, resistance and argument irritated him. Gave him cause to assess and, shortly thereafter, terminate whatever relationship or person was resisting him. But Jaya was different. He was enjoying her fire. He wanted more, was relieved to see that it hadn’t been extinguished in her near-death experience.

  “Don’t you dare.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

  “Then take your clothes off and get your ass in that shower.”

  She looked as though she wanted to argue, to deny him. But she’d come to know him well enough to realize he would indeed strip her down and he wouldn’t be nice about it. She glanced around, looking for an escape. Of course, there was none. He was standing between her and the only door. Her shoulders slumped a little and she uncrossed her arms and reached for the hem of her shirt.

  She paused for a moment. “Can you please leave?” she asked.

  “No,” he denied her request. “Now get moving, Jaya.”

  “I hate you so much, Ivan.” She dragged the T-shirt over her head with shaking arms and let it go, slamming her arms over her torso.

  He frowned at her timidity. He wasn’t completely surprised given her solitary existence, but he wasn’t going to tolerate it for long. “That’s not what you were saying when I was pulling you from the ocean. Now the rest, Jaya,” he insisted.

  She hooked her fingers in the waistband of the black leggings she almost always chose to wear when he didn’t insist on a sari and dragged them over her generous hips. She had to lean against the counter and bend over to get them off her legs. She was so weak from her ordeal that she couldn’t get her feet untangled and started to fall. Ivan caught her before she could hit the floor. He nearly groaned out loud when his fingers sank into her smooth, plush skin. He pushed her back against the counter and knelt at her feet admiring the rounded expanse of her soft, smooth stomach in front of his face.

  “Let me,” he muttered roughly, sliding his hand over one calf, lifting her leg and pushing her leggings off first one foot and then the other. She stood uncomplaining, her hands gripping the counter behind her. When he looked up, he nearly came in his pants at the sight. She wore nothing, but a skimpy pair of bikini cut panties, dark pink with purple lace around the edges. He really couldn’t help but follow the path of the lace to where it disappeared right between her plump thighs. She wore a matching bra that clung so lovingly to her full breasts he decided that she should always wear whatever shape, colour and size this bra and panty set were. The perfection was blowing his mind.

  His mouth watered and his brain flashed over every scenario that had her bent over the counter with him pounding into her from behind, or her sitting that full, curvy ass on the same counter with him slamming into her while she wrapped her arms and legs around his body, like she’d done in the water when he was saving her life. She owed him. She was his slave. He could do whatever he wanted with her.

  She made a small sound of distress and his gaze snapped up to hers. Her eyes were round and worried. He realized that, without thought, he’d gripped her waist so hard, sinking his fingers deep, she would likely have marks. He looked away from her and reminded himself that she’d just been traumatized and, while he fully intended to have her, now wasn’t the right time.

  He moved his fingers from her waist to the edge of her panties and tugged them down her legs in one swift move. She jerked back against the counter and made a strangled sound. “Stop, Jaya,” he said gruffly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Th-that’ll be a first,” she snapped between chattering teeth.

  He chuckled. “There’s my girl.”


  He stood up, towering over her and spun her around so she faced the mirror. She grabbed the counter again and held on for dear life. He unhooked her bra and tugged it down her arms, uncurling her stiff fingers from the granite top and pulling her arms through the straps. She grabbed for the counter again. Unable to resist, he leaned over her and placed his hands next to hers as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed in, inhaling the scent of ocean and Jaya. Her unique scent drew him, drove him wild and called to him. It was warm and spicy with a hint of honey. He couldn’t explain it. But he knew it was there. It had lingered in his bedroom since she’d been moved.

  His lifted his gaze to look at her in the mirror. He ignored the wide, frightened eyes, not wanting the shreds of his conscience to wake up too soon. Her long, dark brown hair streamed in drying strands over her shoulders, covering most of her gorgeous breasts. He reached up and pushed the section over her right shoulder, revealing one breast. She made a strangled sound and lifted her hand to cover herself. He captured her wrist and pressed her hand back against the counter. She shook in his arms, the movement now having nothing to do with cold.

  “So perfect,” he said, his eyes caressing her in the mirror. Her nipple was stiffly peaked, the aureole a rich brown, almost black colour. Her breast was smooth and brown like the rest of her, but plump and perky at the same time, proclaiming her youth. Another point for his conscience to mull over at a later date. Though he didn’t know her exact age, he did know she was much younger than him. Possibly as many as fifteen years separated them.

  “How old are you, Jaya?” he asked, his tone still gentle but demanding.

  “Twenty-four,” she whispered.

  Yes, fifteen years difference. And for a split second he contemplated the years she had ahead of her. The bright things she could do with her keen intelligence if not tied down by a man intent on holding her so tight the world would never get to see her light again. Then he rejected the thought. She belonged to him.