Текст книги "Last Breath"
Автор книги: Jessica Clare
Соавторы: Jen Frederick
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
“Please,” she says. And my arms band around her so tightly she squeaks.
“Sorry.” I force myself to loosen my hold, but I don’t let go.
Eighteen
Regan
DANIEL ’S HAND STROKES UP AND down my back in slow, soothing motions. I’m lying on top of him, my legs spread over his hips, my breasts mashed to his chest, and he’s quietly stroking my back and ignoring the raging hard-on I feel pressed against my pussy. We’re both ignoring it. I suppose sooner or later, it needs to be addressed. Just . . . not right now. I’m feeling too good to think about anything but what we did.
His fingers dance along my spine in a light touch. “Did I break you?” he asks, and I hear a teasing note in his voice.
I laugh a little, but the truth is, I’m feeling a little stunned. That’s the first time I’ve ever been on the receiving end of oral, and it was every bit as good as it had been made out to be. I’d sat on Daniel’s face, and he’d acted like I was giving him a present. I think of Mike and how I’d blown him countless times and how he’d never reciprocated. “I’m not a big fan of pussy,” he’d tell me and complain about the smell, as if I was something diseased instead of his girlfriend. The few times I’d begged him to do more, he’d told me that guys who said they liked eating pussy were liars and made tuna jokes.
I sit up, a frown on my face as I stare down at Daniel.
“What?” he asks.
“Did you enjoy that?”
His eyes narrow and now he’s frowning, like he’s not entirely sure he understands the question. “Did I enjoy eating your pussy? Wasn’t it obvious?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I could eat that pussy for hours and never get tired of the way you taste,” Daniel tells me, and his fingers skim up my spine again. “Love your honey on my tongue and the way you shiver when I touch your clit. So, yeah, I fucking loved it.”
I tremble a little at the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry. I guess that was a silly question.”
“Not silly,” he says to me.
“Mike didn’t . . . he . . .”
“Can we not talk about Mike when you’re spread on top of me?” His hand stops moving along my spine, and the closed look on his face makes me realize I’ve hurt his feelings.
I need to make this better. So I lay back down on him and curl up against his hard chest, my cheek pressed against his heart. “I’m sorry. Mike’s my only real experience . . . before. And I’m starting to realize now that it wasn’t very good.”
He pats my back. “S’okay.”
“You ever have bad sex?” I ask him. My head feels deliciously comfy on his chest, and his nipple is a mere inch or two away from my face. I lift my fingers and begin to trace circles around it. Daniel’s got a dusting of chest hair all across his pectorals, but I like it. It feels warm and a little fuzzy against my cheek.
“Shit yeah. Who hasn’t?” His fingers move along my spine again, and after a moment he says, “I once banged a girl—a base bunny—who called me my sergeant’s name the entire time. We were both too drunk to care but, I admit, it kinda shriveled my dick when I sobered up. Never touched that ass again.”
“Because your feelings were hurt?” Poor Daniel.
“No, because Sarge was fucking disgusting. Man was seventy if he was a day, bow-legged, dentures, and the worst damn breath. Kinda insulted that she mistook us.”
I giggle at that, because I picture a girl mistaking this breathtakingly gorgeous man for that and it seems absurd. “Maybe she was really, really drunk.”
“Shit, I sure hope so. He had these bizarre caterpillar eyebrows that looked like they were ready to crawl off his face.”
I’m laughing now, all tension gone. He sounds so very disgruntled.
He chuckles underneath me, clearly pleased by my response. “Damn, Regan, but you have the prettiest laugh. I think I need to hear that more often.” And his fingers caress my cheek.
Just like that, my laughter dries up and I’m feeling relaxed and good . . . and even more blatantly aware of Daniel’s cock pressing against me. He’s ignoring it, but it’s obvious he wants me. And suddenly, I want him, too. I want to see if I can have sex with this man without freaking out. Oral sex with him had been amazing, but now I’m greedy and I want more. How good would flat-on-your-back, sweaty, pounding sex be? My wavering courage tells me that if I ride Daniel, it’ll be safer to get up, easier to run away.
But . . . I also wonder what it’d be like if Daniel was in charge. Would I lose my cool the moment he covers me? Or would I be too busy having the best orgasms of my life to even care?
Do I want to try? My fingers slide away from his nipple and move up to his mouth, and I trace his lips with my fingertips.
He inhales sharply, and his tongue reaches out to flick against my fingers. A low groan escapes him. “I can still taste you on your fingers.”
“Do you like it?” I ask softly.
“Makes my dick harder than a rock.”
I give my hips a little shift, rocking them against his erection. “I can tell.” My voice is becoming breathless with excitement. “Do you have condoms?”
“Yep.” No pretty words, no questioning if I’m sure or not. Just a solid affirmation. It’s handled. For some reason, that makes me smile. Everything’s always handled with Daniel. When I’m with him, it’s harder to spin out of control. He’s got me. I like that.
So I sit up a little and shift forward until my lips can reach his. I kiss him, because I like kissing this man. My mouth plays over his, the kiss light, gentle, and totally controlled by me. His lips brush over mine, his tongue flicking against my own, and it feels incredibly good. So good that I want to try and go a little further.
I roll off of him and my hands drag at his shoulders, trying to pull him over me. But Daniel sits up and gives me a wary look. “Regan, you sure—”
I nod. “Keep kissing me, okay? I’ll let you know if I freak out.”
“All right.” He shifts his weight, and then his chest is pressing against mine and his mouth covers mine again.
I can feel the old fear flickering in the back of my mind, and the urge to start counting off horror movies rises. But then Daniel’s tongue brushes against my own and pleasure returns. I make a small noise of protest when his mouth pulls away from mine, but he’s only pressing light kisses along my jaw, tickling me with their touch. And that’s all right, too. It’s tender and loving and nothing like the horrible experiences I’ve had in the past.
“You’re so beautiful, Regan. So fucking beautiful it drives me crazy.” His hands slide over my body, caressing me, and his leg moves between mine. His movements are slow and easy, clearly designed not to startle me, and I appreciate his thoughtfulness. It’s like he knows this is a huge moment for me and that I could go either way: either scared of sex forever or move on past my trauma.
I want to move on. More than that, I want to move on with him. I tilt my head back, exposing my neck for his mouth to move over, and it feels so good as he scrapes his teeth along my sensitive skin. I gasp when his mouth latches onto my earlobe, and he tongues it then lightly sucks on it. A moan rises from my throat and my nipples ache; my ears are really sensitive.
“You like that?” he murmurs into my ear as I cling to him. “You want my tongue sliding all over that sweet little ear of yours like I did your pussy?”
Daniel’s a dirty talker, and it’s a little crazy at how erotic I find it. For some reason, him describing what he wants to do to me is as effective as his touches on my body. I cling to him, burying my fingers in his short hair as he gives my earlobe the same treatment he gave my clit a short time ago—and it’s making me as crazy as that did.
“Can I touch your breasts, Regan?” One hand skims my side even as his mouth continues to make love to my earlobe. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
But I do want him to. It’s enough that he asked, and it’s enough that his mouth keeps nibbling and sucking on my earlobe to remind me that this is about making me feel good, not about taking from me. I press my hand to his free one and move it to my breast, giving him silent encouragement.
His groan of pleasure is in my ear. “You’ve got the sweetest little tits, Regan. I bet they’d fill up my mouth nicely. I bet those nipples are as juicy as your pussy. Are they?”
I gasp and nod, whimpering some sort of answer in my throat. Daniel’s relentless make-out assault is reminding me of the old days back before Mike and I started sleeping together, back when foreplay was fun and not thirty seconds of squeezing before Mike decided he wanted sex. Back when it was about me.
And I like it. I like it so much that when Daniel’s head slides down and he tongues my nipple, I moan his name aloud. “Oh God, Daniel.”
“That’s right, fighter baby,” he murmurs against the tip of my breast. “It’s all Daniel. And Daniel loves your body. I want to put my mouth all over it.” And he nips at the peak in his mouth, as if teasing me with what he wants to do. “Do you want that?”
“Yes,” I moan, clinging to him. When Daniel moves his attentions from my neck and ear down to my breasts, it’s as good as when he was tonguing my pussy. He lavishes attention on each one, brushing his fingers over my skin and teasing me, then devouring my nipples with hot, needy kisses and nips of his teeth. Just when I think I can’t stand it any longer, he moves over to my other breast and gives it the same attention, his fingers toying with the aching nipple he’s left behind.
By the time he comes up to kiss me again, I’m wild with need, panting his name, and my hips are rocking against him. I need to have sex with him. “Condom,” I whisper.
“Be right back.” He kisses me again for so long and so hard that it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to forget the condom and to get inside me, but then he rolls off the bed and jogs across the room to his pants. I rise up on my elbows, watching as he pulls out his wallet, removes a condom, and then carefully checks the expiration date. “Whew. Just in time.”
For some reason, this strikes me as funny. That a man as sexy and dangerous as Daniel would have a condom in his wallet for so long that it’s close to expiring. I stifle my giggles, but he hears them anyhow.
“Not what a guy wants to hear when he’s rolling on a sock, sweetheart,” Daniel tells me, ripping open the package.
“Sorry,” I say, trying to smother my laughter, but I can’t seem to help it. Daniel’s the last person in the world who would have a deflated ego.
He smooths the condom down his length and returns to the bed, careful to approach me in slow, steady motions. He eases his body down onto the bed next to me again, leans over, and cups the back of my neck as he begins to kiss me once more.
I respond to his kiss with a hungry one of my own, and soon we’re making out all over again and I’ve nearly forgotten about sex—except for the feel of his cock pressing against my hip and the aching need deep inside me.
A moment later, Daniel moves back on top of me and I part my legs, welcoming him between them. His weight settles there and he kisses me for a moment longer, then hitches one thigh up around his hips, moving me into position. Still, he kisses me, and still, it’s all right.
“You can back out, fighter baby,” he murmurs against my lips.
“It’s okay, I promise.” I want this.
He gives me a light kiss, and then his cock presses at the opening of my sex. Daniel pushes in, and I suck in a breath as a crowd of memories—and unpleasant faces—surges to the forefront. Oh shit. Oh shit.
But then he leans down and kisses me again, his hands smoothing my hair. He whispers soft, dirty things in my ear, and I remember it’s Daniel. My tense body relaxes under him, and I begin to return his kiss, slowly, hesitantly.
I can feel his body trembling with exerted control, his muscles tense as he hovers over me, not moving a muscle except to kiss my mouth. He’s not going to do anything until it’s clear I’m fine with this, and I stroke my fingers over his cheek, his shoulder, his arm, trying to let him know that it’s okay. That I’m okay.
“It’s fine, Daniel,” I whisper when he still doesn’t move.
But he only moves to my neck and begins to kiss and suck on my earlobe again, his tongue doing delicious things to that sensitive little area, and I begin to moan and wriggle underneath him again. His skin is slick with sweat, and my nostrils are filled with his warm, delicious scent. It’s Daniel. All Daniel.
He gives my earlobe a gentle bite and I moan, feeling a pulse of desire deep in my core again. He shifts a little and his cock moves inside me, a bit, and it feels good, too. I raise my hips against him, indicating that I want more.
He gives me more, then. His hips move in a slow, steady rocking motion that feels good, and I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on to him as he continues to lick and suck at my earlobe. Before long, I’m moaning under the onslaught, and my clinging to Daniel has a desperate clench to it. My pulse is throbbing all through my body, and my breasts ache with need, but Daniel’s thrusts are like clockwork—slow, steady, even. I know if he sped up, I’d move that much closer to an orgasm.
But he doesn’t—even when I beg—and I begin to thrash under him, becoming wilder as the need grows within me. And still he continues that slow, steady motion, pushing deep inside me, dragging out ever so slowly, and then pushing deep again. All the while, he’s tonguing my earlobe and pressing kisses to it and murmuring all the filthy things he wants to do to me.
“You ever have an orgasm with a guy inside you, Regan? Make you come so hard that you’re practically sucking his dick inside you because you’ve clamped down on him?” He whispers in my ear and outlines my earlobe with the tip of his tongue.
I’m shivering with need, and my response to him is only a low moan of his name.
“I think that’s a no,” he murmurs. “And I think that’s a real fucking shame. Because I want you to squeeze down on me so hard that you’re seeing goddamn stars, fighter baby.”
Is he ready to come? Is this a hint for me to hurry up and have an orgasm? I’ve gotten pretty good at predicting Mike, but Daniel is an unknown to me. Still, I dutifully hitch my breath and squeeze my internal muscles around him, beginning my fake-out so he can finish up.
“Uh-uh,” he says to me. “I want the real thing.”
My pleasure is suddenly ebbing away. “Daniel, I don’t know—”
“I do,” he says, and he shifts his hips, reaching between us. His fingers find my clit and he puts his thumb over it, even as he pulls back and thrusts deep inside me again.
My entire body clenches hard, and I’m startled at the pleasure that rolls through me. I gasp, my eyes going wide. The sensations he’s sending through me now are so intense, they’re almost frightening. “Daniel—”
“Shhh, I’ve got you, fighter baby,” he murmurs, and he begins that slow, steady hammering again, his thumb bouncing against my clit with each movement. And I’m not able to sit back and enjoy the ride anymore. I’m going crazy underneath him, my hips moving to buck against his every thrust, pushing that thumb harder against my clit, our bodies slapping with the force of each thrust.
I’m frantic, soft little whimpering sounds escaping my throat as I move higher and higher toward fulfillment. It feels like too much, but I don’t want it to stop, and I cling to Daniel, gasping his name, my nails digging in to his shoulders.
“That’s right, Regan, sweetheart. Sweet fucking fighter baby doll. Come for me.” His voice is a growl of need, and his thrusts are growing rougher despite his slow, measured hammering.
I try to push his hand away from my clit because it’s getting to be too much, but he won’t let me. He knows I’m almost there and when I come, it’s going to be brutal. And I’m a little scared of it. My whimpers take on a frightened edge.
“Shhh, Regan, I’ve got you,” he tells me even as he sinks deep. “I’m here, and I’ve got you.”
With a sob, I’m there. I orgasm so hard that I do, in fact, see stars. My body seems like every muscle has squeezed itself into a taut line, and I feel as if I’m folding up and exploding into nothing all at once. My breath escapes in a little scream, and I can feel my pussy clenching around Daniel in hard little squeezes, echoing the contractions of my muscles as I come and come and come. Daniel’s saying something in my ear, and his movements are rough, and I realize he’s coming too.
He’s coming, and he’s still got me.
When I can breathe again, Daniel collapses on top of me, and then jerks away as if burned. A second later, he rolls me on top of him, dragging my limp body over his as he begins to stroke my back once more. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
“I’m . . . I’m okay,” I say, and I’m horrified to see that I’m crying. But I am. I don’t know if it’s the intensity of my release or being with Daniel or what it is, but I’m crying and it feels good. “Really. I don’t know why I’m crying.”
He pats my shoulder. “Because it was that bad? You can give it to me straight. I know I’m rusty.”
For some reason, that makes me giggle through my tears. “No, it was g-good,” I say through my tears. “Thank you. I think I’m . . . letting everything out.” And I shudder a breath into my lungs.
I know why I’m crying.
I’m crying because I’m in love with Daniel and I absolutely, positively should not be.
Nineteen
Daniel
REGAN CRYING AFTER SEX FEELS about as good as a stick up the ass. I pat her awkwardly with one hand as I pull off the condom with the other. With a twist, I knot it and toss it into the trash. Meanwhile I rifle through the video memory I’d captured, trying to see if there was a point at which I’d forced her to continue. It seemed like she loved it. Her pussy was squeezing me so tight I thought my dick would snap off—but I’d be a happy dickless man. For the sake of my own sanity, I accept that her tears are as she said—letting it all out. I rub her back, enjoying the feel of her soft body spread out all over mine. Lust still licked around the base of my spine. One time really wasn’t enough. I needed her to ride me until there wasn’t any emotion, fluid, or feeling left in our bodies. Until we’d fucked each other so hard and so long that all we could do was melt into the bed, two formless beings drained by sex. The outside world could go to hell so long as I could lie here inside of her.
I’d been running for months, looking in every hideaway and whorehouse between Europe, Asia, and the Americas. All I wanted to do now was hold Regan. Okay, hold her and fuck her—but with a lot of meaning. I’m going to have a hard time letting her go because in the short time that we’ve known each other I realize she fits me better than anyone else I know. She’s unperturbed by my smartass mouth and, in fact, gives back in equal measure. She’s stronger than anyone and hasn’t slowed me down an iota. Plus, she’s hotter than the sun in the desert.
“You should come to Texas,” I blurt out because my mouth is still being run by the little head which is growing harder with each passing moment. Suddenly I want to shed a few tears. How did I not think to buy condoms at the farmácia? Shit, could I glue my dick shut? No, I’d end up busting a nut—literally—by the unpurged sperm.
“Yeah?” she asks, wiping away the moisture on her cheeks.
“Yeah.” Now that I’ve voiced the idea, I’m warming to it. I can totally see Regan on my ranch, wearing one of my old work shirts with the flaps tied under her boobs like a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. Her smooth belly would be bared to the sun, and her tight jeans would sit low on her hips. We’d ride out into the pasture and watch the sun sink below the last visible strip of land, until only the stars and the deep midnight of the night sky blanketed us. I’d lay her down on a magically-produced blanket, and we’d make sweet love amongst the silver sage that grows wild on the fields. “You could learn to ride. My mom makes a mean sweet tea and pot roast. After dinner, we’d walk down to the pond and listen to the crickets tell each other secrets about the day. Later that night, I’d take you to the old foreman’s cabin and pleasure you until the sun came up the next day.”
“Sounds lovely.” She tucks her head under my chin and I pull the covers up so she’s not chilled by the air conditioning. “Maybe you could come to Minneapolis. It’s as cold as the arctic and without the cute penguins.”
“It sounds irresistible.” But it has you, I think; and sappy as that may be, it’s all I need.
“Your dick is trying to push its way into the wrong place.” She wiggles her ass a little, like she’s not all that averse to the feeling.
“Can’t be helped. You’re naked, lying on top of me. We got done having atom-rattling sex and my cock’s not a dummy. He knows there’s a hot, tight, wet little place for him.” I shift her slightly and rub my cock along her ever-increasingly wet slit. We both groan. “Just ignore it.” But I palm her ass with both hands, allowing my fingers to pull her cunt lips apart so that more of her juicy pussy slides along the hard ridge of my cock.
“Ignore what?” she gasps, and there aren’t any tears in her eyes, just a growing haze of lust.
“Nothing, fighter. That’s not my cock rubbing your cunt right now. You aren’t getting wetter by the minute. I’m not holding your apple plump ass cheeks in my palms.” Digging my heels into the mattress, I angle my hips up and the head of my cock tip slides right into her bare pussy. My eyes roll back. “Oh darlin’,” I groan. My fingertips press into her flesh, opening her even more. Knowing this is wrong but not being able to stop, I pump into her shallowly. Each time, my cock dives a little deeper into her slick, hot channel. “You play ‘I never?’” I ask. “Because I’ve never felt anything so good as riding bareback in your tight little pussy.”
She’s panting now. “It feels incredible. I swear I can feel every vein and ridge on your cock. You feel enormous.”
Her words make me swell longer and harder than I’ve ever been. “I don’t have a motherfucking condom,” I curse, but she doesn’t climb off and I can’t bring myself to pull out. Worse, she squeezes me tight and I feel like shooting a truckload of spunk into her right then. "I know this sounds stupid, but I swear I'm clean. We got checked regularly in the army for everything.” And we both knew she was clean from the post-rescue clinic visit.
She nods and then clenches around me again. “Yes.” It comes out on a breathy, sexual sigh.
With one surge, I’m seated to the hilt and Regan lets out a low, keening cry. Her forehead drops down to mine and I take her mouth, fucking her with my tongue and cock. She responds with a matching hunger. This time it’s a frenzied, crazy fuck—our bodies slapping against each other like we’re in a race to see who can drive the other mad first. The palms of her hands are digging into my shoulders, but the pain is a welcome sign of how needy she is for me.
I’m pistoning inside her with long, hard strokes. Lifting her slightly and then pulling her back down. “Harder, fuck me harder, Daniel,” she moans into my mouth. The taunt, the plea, whatever it was, bursts through my fogged brain and I flip her over onto her back and fold her legs so that her ass is titled upward. In the next motion, I’ve sheathed myself inside her again, pounding into her as she digs her heels into my shoulders and her nails bite into the sides of my thighs. She’s marking me, my hindbrain chortles, and I love it.
“You’re so hot, so beautiful right now,” I tell her. “Your cunt is swallowing me up, like a hungry flower.” The tension of my orgasm has gathered at the base of my spine and I’m ready to spend all over her. “You coming with me, Regan?” I growl at her. “Come with me.”
I lift one leg over my shoulder and reach around so that I can roll her clit between my fingers. I need her to share this moment with me. My fingers catch and tease and pinch her clit as I stroke her with fast, hard thrusts. She’s crying now, but it’s clearly from pleasure. Her head is thrashing back and forth on the bed until her orgasm overtakes her, tensing her whole body as she bows up off the bed. Her climax causes her pussy to clamp down on me, and it takes superhuman strength to wrench out of her. I palm my throbbing cock and come jets out of me and all over her stomach and tits. I feel like I come for hours, and when the red hot fog of lust evaporates, I see that she’s covered in me. The streaks of milky-white semen look like abstract art on her flushed flesh and I feel more amazing than fucking Picasso.
I can’t stop myself from spreading it around, rubbing it into her pelvis and her stomach and up the underside of her breasts. “You look good in my come.”
She barely has the energy to stick her tongue out at me but manages a small snort. Her face is turned to the side of the mattress, and she’s trying to catch her breath. Me too. I fall down beside her, still rubbing my come into her skin.
“You’re an animal,” she whispers, but it’s not an insult. It’s a simple observation and a true one at that.
“No doubt, fighter.” I draw her close to me, and this time our kiss is languid and exploratory instead of a frenzied meeting of mouth and teeth and tongue. Her lips are petal soft, and she tastes like home, better than my mom’s sweet tea and pot roast. I could live on her taste and nothing else.
A pounding on the door interrupts our post-coital make-out session. “Ignore it,” I say, more interested in having Regan’s tongue in my mouth than food in my belly. I figure it is room service—although I don’t remember ordering any. The thought penetrates, and I sit up abruptly. No one should know we are here. Jumping out of bed, I grab my Ruger from the nightstand. “Get under the bed,” I order in a hushed voice. She nods and slides off the bed, but not before she grabs the other gun.
“Don’t shoot me,” I say with a grin, trying to alleviate some of her fear. Standing next to the doorframe, my back against the wall, I tell the persistent knocker to go away. “We don’t need any assistance.”
“Open the door,” a deep voice commands in Russian.
Oh fuck me. Vasily Petrovich. Just what I don’t need. “Hold your horses.” I have no idea if that Western idiom translates, but I figure he’ll get the message.
Crossing the room, I crouch down beside Regan, who is kneeling beside the bed, the gun clutched between both hands. I reach over and push the safety back on.
“What language were you speaking?” She looks at me with suspicion. Cradling her cheek in my hand, I search for the right words to say but before I can get anything out, the door is kicked in.
Regan lifts her gun, disengages the safety and shoots twice.
“Motherfucker!” yells Petrovich, who dives to the side.
I knock Regan’s hands upward and wrestle the gun away. It’s then I realize we are both nude and she’s probably sticky from my attentions.
“Fuck.” I pick a struggling Regan up in my arms and hustle her into the bathroom. Reaching into the shower, I flick the hot water on and then sit down on the toilet. Her body is shaking—with fear, not desire—but she’s not crying.
“That man out there . . .” She points a trembling arm toward Petrovich, whose moans of pain have stopped.
“You must have winged him, fighter.”
I try to lift her into the shower, but she’s all limbs right now. It’s like trying to handle an octopus. I get her inside the stall, but she fights the whole way. “We don’t have time to shower,” she screams at me. “We’ve got to get out right now.” And then understanding dawns on her as she stares at me under the spray of the water. I can’t tell if there are tears mixing with the shower water, but the expression on her face is killing me.
“You know him.” Her voice is dead. Zero inflection.
“Let me explain.”
She retreats until her back hits the tile wall. Her head is shaking back and forth, as if by sheer force of will she can make this knowledge away. “No. No, you are one of them.”
Her body is taut, and she looks like she’s about to retch. “I let you touch me. I trusted you.” Her last words are a screamed at me, but it’s not the volume that makes me wince, it’s the shredded pain underlying each sound.
“Regan, please.” I drop to my knees, uncaring that water is flooding out onto the bathroom door. “I know him only because he had a lead for me. He sent me to you. To rescue you. I promise.”
“How do I know you’re not part of a whole ring? Are you going to sell me too?”
“No!” I shuffle closer, but she holds out her hands as if I’m the devil come to steal her soul. “I’m Daniel Hays. I’m a former soldier from Texas. My sister was stolen. I haven’t lied to you. Not once, I swear it.” I raise my hands in the air. Her next words kill me.
“He sold me.”
And my heart breaks. I lean down and kiss her feet.
“I’m sorry, fighter. I’m so sorry.” With my face on the cold tile and my hands on either side of her feet, I wait for her to forgive me. I need for her to forgive me.
"Where's the other guy?” She’s shaking so hard with fury that she can’t stand, and she slides down the wall until she’s seated. Her voice is low and harsh. “He raped me before he handed me over to them.”
“I killed him. Broke his neck and left him behind a gas station. I should have made it more painful, now that I know that.” I climb in beside her. The hot water from the shower head is almost cool by the time it hits our feet. When she hears that Yury is dead, she relaxes slightly and that awful, brittle look washes down the drain with the water. But my heart is breaking for her.
Gesturing toward the outer room, she asks with incredulity, “Are you really friends with him?”
“Who? Nick?”
“No, the slave trader.”
“I know him. Met him a few months ago. Knew of him longer, though.” I tell her everything. “I’ve been searching for my sister, so I got involved with some guys who make money killing bad guys.”
“Hit men?”
“Mercenaries. Hit men. I needed a way in to find Naomi. I started watching people, reaching out if I thought that they had some personal code because I felt I might be able to trust them. Nick was one of those guys. He was very careful with the jobs he took on. He researched them, and he was very good at what he did, so I reached out to him. When you and Daisy were kidnapped, I knew it was my opportunity to do him a solid, so he’d owe me.” She’s listening to me, which I take as a good sign.
