by Teagan Kade
“I know,” I reply, taking his hand as we start to run.
*
My legs are burning and my lungs likewise. A seemingly good idea at first, hiding yourself in a city would appear harder than it seems.
I can’t believe we were stupid enough to think Mark and Lynna would somehow show, somehow mystically know we’d be there, but we’re desperate.
That can’t stand. We have to be smarter.
At one point we almost run out right into the same SUVs as they hurtle down Penrose. We spot them again ten minutes later. There can be no doubt about it. They’re looking for us and no one, not even the police, can keep us safe here.
We’ve been at this all day, slowly making our way from one side of the city to the other. The light’s starting to thin out above, the shadows in the park growing longer, strollers and scooters replaced by runners and workers eager to make their way home.
Home—it seems like such a foreign concept now, and I’ve dragged Ethan into it. How is he ever going to get out of this?
We stop to catch our breath near a large culvert.
“Do you know where we are?” asks Ethan.
I look around. “FDR Park.”
Ethan spots something through the trees, taking my hand. “This way.”
We head through a cluster of trees and come down near a boathouse. Ethan leads us around the back and looks through the windows. “I don’t think they’re using this one. We can hide out here, catch our breath.”
I’m cold and hungry—again, insane considering what we’re surrounded by, but we don’t have the luxury of a sit-down dinner right about now.
Ethan finds a rock in the garden bed and uses it to break the padlock on the back door, slipping me inside before he closes the door behind us.
It’s damp and colder inside, old row boats stacked up against the walls.
Ethan checks the front windows of the shed, but they’re so grimy you can barely see out. He finds us an area behind the boats out of sight, returning with a blanket for me. “Again, not the Hilton, sorry.”
“As long as I’ve got you, I don’t care,” I reply.
“Says the girl who’s drinking Cosmopolitans at 10am. Somehow I don’t think this is the life of luxury you’re used to.”
He sits down beside me. The sun’s almost faded outside, a strong ochre beam of light turning Ethan’s hair to fire. “I can go out and get us something to eat later, when it’s completely dark. It’s not perfect here, but I’m pretty sure it’s the last place they’ll be looking.”
We both shield our eyes, suddenly blinded by strong light. At first I think the sun’s hit the windows in full, but when I look between gated fingers I see a hooded figure standing there holding what could be a flashlight but probably’s a gun.
Together, we reach for our weapons, but the figure says, “Wait.”
I reach across to hold Ethan’s arm down. I recognize the voice. “Lynna?”
The light drops, and the figure pulls back their hood. “I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue, but I think we should get you out of here.”
Ethan’s looking to me for confirmation. I place my hand on his. “It’s Lynna. It’s okay.”
“Come,” Lynna says, reaching down to help me up. “Mark’s waiting in the car.”
We follow Lynna through the park. Ethan slows us so we’re walking behind her. He whispers. “You’re completely sure we can trust them? Because, news flash, we’ve kind of been burned lately when it comes to trustworthy individuals.”
“Yes,” I reply, “they can help us.”
“I hope you’re right,” he says, “because I’m getting really tired of running.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ETHAN
I’m nervous and it’s not just due to the fact we’re being hunted down by the Russian Mafia. Parked in the shadows of a nearby street, Sofia and I are in the back of a late-model sedan, the two FBI agents up front both turned towards us. Mark, in particular, is eyeing me with equal suspicion, but I guess we’ve got no reason to trust each other.
“So you’re FBI?” I ask.
Lynna holds up her badge, which yes, looks legitimate. “We’re Sofia’s handlers, which means our first priority is to keep her safe.”
But you’re happily expendable, I can almost hear her adding.
“I found her with a bullet in her head under a bridge three hours from here,” I tell them. “I don’t think you’re really doing your job too well.”
Mark goes to say something, but Lynna cuts him off. “That was an unexpected turn of events we aren’t going to get into now, but know we were targeted the very same night.”
“By my father?” queries Sofia.
Mark nods. “We’ve been betrayed too, Sofia. Someone in our operation warned Montello what was happening. We were sitting ducks.”
“They came for us hard,” says Lynna, scratching the side of her neck, “but I was first in the academy for sharpshooting and Mark here can get moving when he wants to, so we escaped… just. We couldn’t find you. We thought you were dead.”
Close enough, I want to announce, but I keep my mouth closed.
“Basically, all we’ve been doing is trying to come up with a way to both save the operation and ourselves, to survive, just like you.”
Mark looks at me. He’s as tired as I feel. “I think the best course of action is for all of us to get out of the city. That should be our first priority.”
I nod in agreement because he’s right. “Yes, definitely.”
I’m surprised when Lynna puts her hand up, shutting her partner down. “No, no, that’s not the right play.”
“The right ‘play’?” I laugh, dispensing with the pleasantries. “This isn’t a fucking game.”
She looks at me. “I know, and I thank you for all you’ve done, for keeping Sofia safe, but we have to see this through. Otherwise, they’re just going to keep on coming. We need to make this worthwhile.”
“You can’t be serious,” I fire back. “Four of us against how many of these guys?”
Silence falls. It’s Sofia who breaks it. “Lynna’s right, Ethan.”
“She is?”
Sofia nods solemnly. “We have to bring them down, whatever it takes.”
I’m surprised by her conviction, alarmed by it. “Not if ‘whatever it takes’ is your life. I can’t let that happen. You know that.”
She takes my hands, turning to face me and I see a steely resolve in those once doe-like eyes that’s new and frightening in equal measure. “You don’t know the things my father has done, the sheer pain he has caused so much people. I was blind to it for so long, but now my eyes have been opened I have to act. We have to act—” she points between us all “—or how many more people will suffer at his hands? Mothers, children, families… I won’t allow it.”
I know it’s pointless trying to argue otherwise. Sofia’s gotten her grit back. I appreciate it, in a way, but I also know what we’re up against. It’s not some back-street band of two-bit criminals. They’re well organized and well-armed, with tentacles that no doubt stretch across this entire city, maybe the entire country. What’s a civilian, a paramedic, and two burnt FBI agents against all of that?
Dead, my head finishes.
*
Mark and Lynna drive us to a new safehouse they say is completely off the books on the south side of town. It’s another warehouse with an open plan, a couple of cots set up in the office up top. It’s better than the boat shed, but not by much.
I look down from the upper platform at a row of commercial sewing machines. “Well, at least we can knit our own sweaters if we get cold.”
Sofia wraps her arms around me. “Why do I need a sweater when I have you?”
I turn around, my back against the railing, and bring Sofia’s arms up around my neck. “Are we really safe here? You know that hostess sold us out. She saw us come in and got straight on the blower to the bad guys.”
Her eyes have softened, but the
re’s still a glint of fire there, of the battle-hardened individual I’m discovering hidden within. “Lynna and Mark were betrayed too, Ethan. We’re in this together, working towards the same thing.”
“I’m not taking any chances. I’m not…”
“Not what?”
I reach to hold her face, skin gossamer soft. “Losing you.”
“You won’t. You’ve seen me shoot, right?”
“You shot your ol’ pal in the shoulder, not the head.”
“Maybe I meant to.”
I smile at that, because I can see the sense in it. She’s no killer. She doesn’t need that on her conscience, preying on her vulnerabilities every time she gets down to tend a patient like I do. I can only be thankful in my current line of my work it’s not me who put them in that position, that I’m checking they’re alive, not dead.
“You’re pretty stubborn. You know that?” I tell her.
One hand slides down my chest, toying with the top of my jeans. “Can the Voice of Reason take a break, or does he need to exercise his right to protest a little more?”
I smile again knowing where this is leading.
“What?” she asks. “Lynna and Mark said they wouldn’t be back until morning. There’s a cot or two we need to test.”
I look behind her into the main office space where the cots are situated looking like they were shipped direct from the local penitentiary. “I don’t think those cots could stand the fucking I’m about to give you.”
She pulls back, hands on her hips. “Is that a fact?” she taunts, walking back to the railing and surveying the warehouse. “Well, I’m sure we can find a perfectly suitable table, or wall, or is the floor more your thing? Take me like an animal?” She growls when she says it. I reach to grab her, but she jerks away, tutting and wagging her finger. “You’re going to have to work for it tonight, mister.”
I stalk her down the stairs, undoing my belt. “You better hope your FBI friends don’t decide to show up.”
“Why’s that?” she laughs, pulling her hoodie over her head and stretching out as she steps backwards. “You don’t think they’re getting it on, do you?”
“That Mark guy?” I laugh. “Poor bastard. I don’t think he’s been laid since Blockbuster was the place to be.”
She joins along. “Fair point.”
She reaches the bottom of the stairs, her t-shirt pulled away and flung to the floor, her bright red bra a beacon. “And if trouble shows up instead? You’re fully loaded?”
I stop and unzip my jeans, stepping out of them with my boxers balled up inside, my cock firm and ready. I take my hoodie and shirt off before reaching down to stroke myself. “Oh, I’m loaded, baby.”
She laughs, easing her pants down but leaving her panties in place. “What are you going to do? Come in their eye? Club them with your almighty schlong?”
I stop stroking. “Hey now. You’ll hurt his feelings?”
She smacks her lips, lifting an eyebrow. “Will a kiss make it better?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SOFIA
I step towards him, snaking an arm around his neck, pulling myself closer to that I’ve come to love, unable to resist him. “So, is this where you want to take me?”
He answers with a kiss, our mouths pressing together with urgency.
There’s a moment where we just stare at each other, breathing deeply in the darkness.
The longing between my legs is so strong, so defined I cannot wait another second. I make the first move, pulling my t-shirt free and undoing my jeans, sliding them down until they puddle around my feet. I step out of them feeling powerful, sex incarnate as I pad towards him in my underwear. I reach around to undo my bra, letting it drop and be trod underfoot.
That shy girl from the hospital has left the building.
We embrace. I’m caged in by his scent, the hot vapor of his breath against my cheek as I draw in deep breaths. My stomach knots and flutters, pangs of sensation running up and down my spine as his hand molds itself to my breast.
I hold his head in my hands and guide it downwards. I let him taste the beaded sweat that has broken out in the valley that runs between my cleavage. He finds a nipple and draws it out until it’s a tight pillar in his mouth, letting it snap back into place. His head rises and our tongues meet again. I can taste my perspiration on his lips, the salty bite of it somewhere between the overtly masculine notes there. As I do, an intensity builds inside me that’s bright and fiery, a volcano ready to blow.
Sensation has overtaken reason. I feel like I could float away in his arms.
His hands dip to my buttocks, working under the thin cloth of my panties. He takes them in two hands and pulls them from my body, tearing them at the sides and letting what’s left float to the floor in tatters.
I laugh internally thinking we’re going to need another trip to Target if he keeps this up.
I hold my breath, shocked at this overt display of power but determined not to let him get the upper hand.
No, Sofia Montello always has the upper hand.
But he doesn’t let me.
He lifts me under my ass. I lock my legs around him as he staggers forward, letting me down on the corner of a sewing bench. A spindle of thread falls to the floor with a muted thud.
My ass settles against the metal tabletop, the cold a stark juxtaposition to my superheated skin. He lays me flat with one hand spread wide on my breastbone, his tongue trailing around my chest, testing the resistance of my flesh… and patience.
I grip onto the sides of the table, my nipples stiffening against the cold air.
It’s bright thanks to the commercial lighting. I can clearly make out the swollen hardness of Ethan’s cock pressing against the front of his jeans. And suddenly the fact we’re being chased, hunted, is lost and there is only sensation. There is only Ethan and me.
There’s the faintest tickle from the fresh stubble on his chin as he moves down over the flat of my abdomen. He leaves wet ovals with his lips until finally his tongue cleaves into my wet core and all I can do is convulse and thrash below him.
He runs his tongue up and down my slit, pulling my swollen clit into his mouth, licking and sucking at my heated arousal. His tongue flickers, probes, seeks out pleasure I haven’t known before.
The emotion wells up and I make no attempt to stop it. A tear slides down my face as I bury my hands in his hair and pull, pressing my hips forward to meet his ravenous mouth.
He drifts away from my pussy and then returns, teasing me until I’m not sure I can take this torture anymore. I sob and spasm, eventually forced to press his head away from me, his chin wet with my desire. It’s a beautiful sight.
Here’s a man who has proven he will do anything for me, will go to any lengths to protect me.
I push him back and slide off the table, kneeling before him on the cold concrete floor to undo his belt buckle. I pull his pants and underwear down in a bundle to his knees. His cock flips out, always so much larger than I remember.
I hold the back of his legs, bring my head up and drop my mouth down upon the head of his length. I’m surprised when his shaft twitches and tightens in my mouth. I didn’t think they could get so ‘animated.’ Pleased, I pull my lips tight around it, sucking and then bobbing down deeper, taking him right into the tight confines of my throat until I’m forced to come up for air.
I’ve only done this a few times before, and then only for show, but this is different. I want to share the pleasure, to provide everything he’s giving me back ten-fold. Oh, what Mother Maria from St. Lucius’s Boarding Academy would think of me now.
Ethan moans with approval, hands on top of my head as my lips break from the flushed helmet of his cock with an audible pop. I make sure he knows I’m watching, eyes fixed to his as I run the tip of my tongue around his glans, licking away the sweet, milky substance that has gathered in his slit like a lost pearl.
I hold him by the root, mewing and pressing him against the soft surface of
my cheek before I open my mouth and drop down until I can take no more, the flat of his pelvis pressed to my nose, his cock filling my throat completely.
“Fucking… fuck… hell.”
He lets out a string of profanity, bucking against me before he moves himself away.
I’m breathing hard, panting… and soaking wet. “What is it?”
He strips his shirt off until all that’s left are two stony squares and that wonderfully symmetrical series of abs below. He kicks his pants off, takes me by the hips and spins me around, bending me violently over the table. I stretch my arms out and exhale heavily, staring at a row of colored cotton spindles, every color of the rainbow gathered there.
He presses my face down into the table. I’m forced to stand on tippy toes, my feet barely touching the floor. My heart thuds like a heavy hammer, pounding against my ribs and the hard surface of the tabletop.
God, I want him. I need him.
There’s a long groan as Ethan thrusts forward to fill me. I cry out, threaded halfway between pain and pleasure as he pulls back and slams forward again, the thought of his cock inside me so hot I squeeze tight as a clothes peg around him. I’m wetter and wetter with every stroke, the table legs below crying out in protest, the giant weight shifting across the floor.
His cock pulls out wet and slick before he plunges it back inside me, crashing into my body, the globes of my ass oscillating with every grunt. He smashes into my behind, trying desperately to push as deep as he can into the hot glove of my pussy.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he’s huffing over my back, bent and redoubling his efforts. My breath comes out in short gasps. I’m running out of things to grip, my fingers slipping for purchase. He holds onto my shoulders to pummel away at my body. I grind my hips back against him, squeezing and churning myself around his cock until his thrusting becomes frantic and wild.
I know he’s close, my own orgasm starting to build. He’s talking nonsense, nothing but loose syllables. He reaches down and fingers my clit right at the edge of the table, a hot heat sawing through my center.
