Knave (Masters of Manhattan)

by Jane Henry

  While he carried me to his room, I unbuttoned my white jacket, and when he opened the door, I whipped it into the corner of the room. He tossed me onto the bed. I bounced on it, then shoved myself up to sitting, still teeming with fury and grief. “Fuck me, then. Fuck me before I go.”

  His eyes pinned me in place, narrowed and angry while he circled the bed. “You’re not fucking going anywhere.”

  “Oh yeah?” I scrambled further back on the bed and glared. “Watch me. Take me. Fuck me senseless. Then I’m out of here.” He shoved me back and his hands went to his waist, unbuckling his belt. “Don’t you even think about it,” I snapped, but he ignored me, drawing the leather through the loops with a sharp tug. The next thing I knew he was on the bed, knees straddling me, and my wrists were bound by the leather. What? A quick snitch and click of metal, and my hands were hopelessly trapped over my head, his belt looped into shackles and fastened to the bed.

  Oh my God. He did not!

  “Anson! You let me go. You unfasten me or I’m going to scream!” I pitched off, my voice raising into a scream.

  “Go for it,” he said. “Caelan and Ethan are downstairs, Walker and Xavier are out. They won’t be back until the sun rises, and by then, you’ll be asleep. You’re out of your fucking mind. You’re not leaving unless I’m with you.” He shook his head, his eyes hurt, and fuck me, a lump rose in my throat at the sight. “Trophy. I gave up everything, fucking everything to save you, and that’s the thanks I get.” His voice caught on the end. And on that note, he walked to his bathroom and slammed the door.

  I blinked and tugged my wrists. They wouldn’t budge. I wore nothing but a thin camisole, as it was most comfortable for me when the heat in the kitchen sizzled. Slim-fitting black slacks completed the simple outfit. I stared at the black fabric, weirdly astonished that despite the craziness of the evening, they were still impeccably clean and black as midnight.

  It seemed like he was in there forever, and as I lay on the bed, unable to move, shivering a little in the air conditioning, the haze of fury dissipated, and his words came back to me.

  I gave up fucking everything to save you.

  Damn it. I wasn’t the only one who’d lost tonight. And instead of thanking him for protecting me, for sacrificing what he’d spent years leading up to, I’d thrown it back in his face. His not making eye contact with me wasn’t a sign of weakness but grief.

  He mourned the loss of his mother while I mourned the loss of my father. All the two of us had in this world was each other, and I’d been on the brink of snatching that away in my impetuous anger. I closed my eyes as tears threatened to spill. The door to the bathroom opened and he stood there, the light from behind him casting him in shadow. I could make out his naked chest and sculpted shoulders. I couldn’t see his eyes because of the shadow, but even if I could have, I wouldn’t have been able to meet them.

  “Get some sleep,” he ground out, snatching a blanket from the end of the bed.

  He was going to leave me like this?

  “What the fuck? You’re just gonna tie me up and leave me here to sleep like I’m some kinda prisoner?”

  He crossed his arms on his chest. “You gonna leave?”

  I didn’t answer right away.

  “Answer enough. Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Won’t be the most comfortable night’s sleep, but you don’t really care about comfort at this point, do you?” He shook his head, his shoulders slouched, and he walked to the door.

  “Anson! God. Anson.” My voice was desperate, cracking like ice on a chilly winter morning.

  He sighed. “Yeah, baby?”

  Baby.

  After all this… after I’d been a desperate, cruel bitch to him, he called me baby. The last vestiges of fury left me, and tears blurred my vision.

  “Please,” I begged. “Come back to me. Don’t leave me here like this.”

  He turned back to face me, and I could see his chest rising as he inhaled. “If I come over to you right now, I don’t trust myself not to whip your ass, Sabrina. I don’t have my shit together. I need some time and distance to get my head back in the game, and I might be a man? But I’m human, babe. And that shit you said to me hurt.”

  I sniffed, tears falling freely now. He blinked, as if suddenly realizing I was crying for the first time.

  “God, I wish you would,” I whispered.

  He took a step toward me, and hope bloomed within my chest. “Would what, baby?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

  “Hurt me. Make this ache stop by making me feel something else.”

  He reached the bed, tangled his fingers in my hair, and pulled my head back, cradling my scalp in his warm, strong hands. Restrained like I was, I could only let him, not able to touch him or move. I could only let him kiss me. His hands fumbled with the buckle by my wrists. My shackled wrists fell free, and the second I could, I reached for him, pulling him close to me. I kissed him hard, ignoring the salty taste of my tears that would keep coming. He grabbed my wrists and held them, so firmly I couldn’t move, as his body pressed up against mine. Yes. Yes, this was what I needed, and my mind began to clear, giving way to what I felt.

  He released me, flipped me onto my belly, and yanked my pants off. They flew across the room and hit his desk. Something crashed to the floor, glass crackling. I whipped my head to the side and could see something—a picture frame?—broken on the floor. He paid no attention as he was intent on getting me out of my clothes. Next came the cami, my bra, and my panties, his fingers scraping along my naked skin as he quickly divested me of my clothes. He tossed them to the floor, pushed off the bed, and hauled me over his lap. I fought him, pushing away from him. I needed him to force it from me, and he seemed to instinctively know this.

  His leg flipped over mine, his hand captured my wrists and pinned them to my lower back, and I was bound to his lap with no means of escape. He reached for his belt with his right hand. I breathed in a split second before his belt slapped against my ass, a fiery lick that pushed the breath right out of me. It burned, and another lash fell. I pushed against him but couldn’t move. He was stronger, and he was giving me what I fought but craved like the darkness craves light. I lost track of the licks from his belt, the whizz and crack echoing in my ears and consuming my body. The belt clattered to the floor and his palm cracked against my ass, again, and again, painting every inch of me with pain so intense I could hardly stand it, my breath caught in my throat, my body arching from the intensity, and still I needed more.

  I cried out as he slapped my thighs, my skin on fire, then he let my wrists go, lifted me bodily up, and tossed me on the bed. “On your belly,” he choked out. Closing my eyes, I did what he said, my arms out in front of me. I screamed when he fisted my hair so hard my head whipped back. He tugged it, a bolt of pain making my heart race. He wound the hair around his hand and held it so tight if I moved even an inch, I’d feel the pain.

  “Gonna take you,” he said. “Spread your legs, baby.”

  He released my hair but slapped my stinging ass with his palm, pushed my legs apart, and shoved his fingers into me. I arched, gasped, then exhaled, a flood of electric need zinging through me. My ass burned, my scalp throbbed, and when his hand smacked upward, slapping my pussy, I swore from the pain, but it was what I needed. Pain on my body to dull the pain in my heart. I gripped the blanket beneath my hands in a desperate clutch, my breath frozen at the crinkle of a condom wrapper opening, holding on seconds before he plunged into me. My mouth opened in a soundless scream, my body teeming with shocks of pain and arousal. A savage thrust ripped through me. I whimpered, but still, needed more. I pushed against him and he responded, shoving me onto the bed with a sharp spank to my ass. He held my hips and thrust again. As the savage pain gave way to pleasure, I melted onto the bed, my grasp slackening. I hummed low. I was going to climax, and it was building so quickly I couldn’t stop it.

  “Please,” I gasped. He wrenched my hair back again, pulling my head back
just long enough to sink his teeth into the tender skin at my neck, then lick the spot he bit with a gentle swipe of his tongue. I whimpered, and he bit my shoulder, this time harder, eliciting a cry of pain at the same time he thrust so hard, I shattered. Light exploded behind my eyelids, my pussy clenched, and I rode that orgasm so long I couldn’t breathe. He grunted in my ear, tugging my head back as he came, our bodies damp and hot. I collapsed beneath him, bearing most of his weight, but the smothering feel of it was beautiful, like a weighted blanket, an inky midnight sky, oppressive yet soothing.

  He pulled out, rolled over, and pulled me onto his chest, both of us heaving from exertion. I crawled onto him and he held me tight. We panted in silence, forgiveness hanging in the air between us.

  “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry,” I said. I knew he was as hurt as I was, and how could I blame him for protecting me? For taking care of me despite his own pain?

  “Me, too,” he said with a sigh. “Fucking up worse would be making enemies of each other, and I don’t want to do that. Shit, Sabrina. The way I feel for you…”

  “What do you mean?” I needed to hear him say it, needed to know I wasn’t the only crazy-assed nutjob who’d fallen, and hard.

  He leaned in and kissed me, soft and gentle and sweet.

  “I need to tell you?”

  I smacked his chest playfully. “Yup.”

  “I wouldn’t have given up on getting justice for my mom for just anything, babe.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Only for someone I love.”

  I let that wash over me, feeling the tingle in my nose and lump in my throat, but we weren’t the sappy couple you’d see on the Hallmark channel. “Christ, I love you, you sonofabitch.”

  He grinned. “And I love you. Gonna clean you up and then you’re gonna shut up and go to sleep. Tomorrow we figure out plan B.”

  Plan B. My chest warmed, and my lips quirked up. It wasn’t the end. He was a scrapper, and so was I. We’d find what we had to no matter what it took. We didn’t play by the rules anyway. And love for us wasn’t years of dating and hearts and flowers and romance. Love for us was giving up shit that mattered and having each other’s backs.

  He pushed up, and I assumed he was going to get something to clean us up, but I remembered the shattered glass. “Anson, be careful,” I warned.

  His head cocked to the side and he looked at the floor, pushing away from me. “Something fell and broke,” I said, but instead of avoiding it, he was making his way to where it lay on the floor.

  “It was a picture frame. The picture of you and your… Sabrina! Holy shit. It’s more than just a picture frame,” he said, the excitement in his voice making the hairs on my arm prick up. I peered over the side of the bed at him. He knelt, picked something up from the floor, and turned to look at me. “This was the picture of you and your dad that used to be in his office. I saw it the other day when we were in Pederson’s office,” he said, his eyes bright. “I grabbed it for you. Was gonna give it to you but hadn’t yet. And look, Sabrina.” He opened his palm, fingers slowly unfolding like a blossoming flower. There, in the center of his palm, lay a small, rectangular silver object.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “A thumb drive, baby. Would bet my left nut this is the backup. Your father’s. The evidence we need.”

  THE END

  Epilogue

  One month later…

  I moved like a wraith through the dark woods that ran along the perimeter of Robby Fletcher’s estate and happened to come within feet of the side entrance to his enormous stone castle, thanking whatever gods of conservation had forbidden him from cutting into the woods on this side of the property.

  “I’m in position,” I breathed into the night. “External security?”

  “Down. I still own the system,” Walker confirmed from his spot in Caelan’s van, which was parked in a secluded spot just a quarter mile away. He sighed lustily, and I could practically see him shaking his head and knocking the long, black strands of his hair loose from his ponytail to fall around his eyes. “Motion sensors are down, and I’ve hacked the cameras to keep an eye on the security guards, who are currently playing poker. And FYI, the shorter guy is cheating rather obviously. I swear, if Fletcher spent half as much money on his security as he did on his parties and his fucking artwork…”

  “Then this would be a much harder job, and not nearly as fun,” Sabrina said, practical as always.

  I grinned, even though she couldn’t see me. My woman was currently cooling her heels back at the penthouse, along with Xavier and Ethan, and not entirely by choice. She’d insisted on coming so she could keep an eye on me. I’d insisted she stay behind, so I wouldn’t be distracted by fear for her safety. Having her on the comms had been our compromise, and I didn’t mind admitting that I’d gotten the far better end of this deal. I liked having her voice in my head, and I liked even better knowing that she worried for me because, despite everything I was and everything I’d been, she loved me.

  I couldn’t lie—despite the talk we’d had the night of Fletcher’s party, I’d worried that this thing between Sabrina and me was just temporary, some product of danger-heightened arousal or whatever. I wasn’t exactly an easy man to love. For weeks, I’d been expecting her to back out, to apologize and give me the whole it’s-not-you-it’s-me bullshit… but she hadn’t. On the contrary, she’d packed up her apartment and moved into the penthouse, taking over the kitchen as her own—a fact for which all of us Masters gave thanks. And more telling, even, than that, she’d voluntarily scaled back her business, keeping only her die-hard clients like Max Pederson.

  Knowing how much effort she’d put into growing A la Carte, I’d protested at first. But Sabrina had recognized even before I did that finding out the Bianchis were pulling Robby Fletcher’s strings was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to getting justice for all the people we’d lost. We had no way to prove the Bianchis were accountable, and until they were safely behind bars, anyone who opposed them was walking around with a target on their back. So Sabrina had sacrificed her business to keep our team intact.

  Was it any wonder that words like compromise were becoming part of my vocabulary? And just like the other new concepts I was starting to wrap my brain around—like team, and trust, and love, the results were well-worth the effort.

  I looked across the small expanse of lawn between the woods and the house. Nothing moved; no animals, not even the faint hint of a breeze. The waning moon was obscured by a thin layer of clouds. A perfect night for breaking and entering, even if tonight’s focus wasn’t on stealing a prize but on planting one, instead. I secured the strap of the small leather backpack I carried and stepped out onto the grass.

  “I’m heading in,” I told the team.

  “Remember, his master suite is on the third floor,” Walker told me, as though I didn’t have the blueprints for the house memorized. “You sure you don’t wanna put the shit in the office?”

  “We talked about this,” I whispered as I hustled across the lawn and knelt to pick the flimsy lock on the side door that led into Pederson’s basement storage area. “Too much traffic in that office. Too easy for him to claim the stuff isn’t his.”

  “Since it isn’t his,” Caelan pointed out, with just a faint trace of disapproval.

  I shook my head as the lock popped and I stepped inside the house, letting my eyes grow accustomed to the new level of darkness.

  I knew Caelan had reservations about the plan we’d agreed on for tonight. He had a crazy sense of honor for a guy who’d been a professional fighter and bodyguard for as long as he had, and I dug it… usually. He wanted Robby Fletcher to go down as badly as any of us did, but he wanted it to be in the right way, for the right reasons. The idea of planting evidence in Fletcher’s house to get him convicted of a crime he hadn’t committed—well, that we knew of, anyway—didn’t sit well with the big guy. But the alternative was to let Fletcher go free, and that was unthinkable, so Caelan had been persua
ded.

  I moved through the mostly empty room and opened the door that led into the main area of the basement. I knew from the blueprints Walker had sourced that there was also a kitchenette, a tricked-out home gym, and a media room on this floor, but I didn’t care about any of those. I moved, sure and light-footed, to the stairs that ran up to the main floor and began my ascent.

  “Approaching the main floor,” I told my team, before anyone had to ask for a status update. “Just need to get across the foyer to the main staircase, and then I should be home free.”

  We knew Fletcher wasn’t home this evening, and during the course of the party last month, Fletcher’s staff had grumbled to Sabrina that they weren’t allowed above the second floor when Fletcher wasn’t home.

  “Be careful,” Sabrina whispered, and whereas before I might have been annoyed by someone reminding me of something I hadn’t failed to do since I was nine years old, now it gave me a warm feeling in my stomach. It was kinda fucked up, that with all the things I’d managed to accomplish and endure in my years on this earth, one of the hardest things I’d had to figure out was how to trust people and let them care for me, but there it was. Now it thrilled me to know that I wasn’t alone, even when I was by myself. I carried Sabrina’s voice in my ear the same way I carried a piece of her in my heart.

  “I will, baby,” I whispered. “Always.”

  I started across the foyer and crept up the darkened staircase. The low lights from the entryway on the main floor cast my shadow on the wall and made me appear larger than life, especially with the backpack I carried. I clung to the wall as I moved.

  A second later, I heard the click of a door opening, followed by the tinny sound of a laugh track from some TV show. “Company,” I breathed, moving further up the stairs and around the landing, so I wouldn’t be visible from downstairs.

  “Oh, fuck. The staff getting restless?” Walker said. I heard keys clacking as he called up information on his screen, working to find out exactly who was roaming around, and give me an exit strategy if I needed one. “Staff living area is on the main floor, tucked behind the kitchen. Safest for you to go up, Anson.”