Reckless: A Dark Romance (The Masters Book 1) Page 4

  The drive to the airstrip goes by too fast. Kate sleeps like an angel, and I could watch for hours. She won’t wake up for another half hour or so, though; it’ll be for the best if I don’t have to drag her to the plane.

  Once Eyal secures the runway, I open the glass divider and lift Kate into my arms. She’s shorter than she looks on television — naturally — and weighs less than I expected.

  “Want me to carry her?” Eyal offers.

  “I’m fine.”

  I ascend the boarding ramp with care not to jostle her. She doesn’t stir, though her cheeks grow rosier, and I could swear her lips rise in a smile.

  Once inside, I take her to the aft section of my custom-designed jet. My business could be run almost entirely from the air, between its operations center, arsenal of weaponry and living quarters. For now, all we need is a bed for me and a cage for Kate. Lowering her down to the floor, I gently lift her legs and pass them through the cage door, then keep easing her forward until she’s inside. Then I lock the cage.

  I could swear she flinches as it clicks shut.

  “Ingram, you have a call on the secure line,” says Eyal. “It’s Noam.”

  “I’ll take it in here.”

  A monitor bolted to the wall lights up. It displays not Noam’s face, but the view from his body-cam as he jogs through Central Park.

  “What have you got?” I ask, glancing at Kate’s still form.

  “One of my informants has made contact,” Noam says. “He claims he has information on the bombing, that he knows who tried to kill you. He wants ten million, all upfront.”

  Not a small amount of money, even for me.

  “How reliable is this?”

  Few of our assets would dare to bilk me for that much money, but I can’t spend that much without putting in due diligence.

  “It’s the same one who led us to the bomber. I’d say whatever he has is worth the price.”

  The tip that got us the man I killed this afternoon cost a fifth of what he’s asking now, and that had included the bomber’s current location. He must have an inside tap on whoever has me in his cross-hairs. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he tried to sell me even more information after I work through my next target. That’s just good business. Having his intel, even at a massive price tag, could be what helps me survive the next attempt on my life.

  It would be foolish to assume there won’t be another. There will be; there always will be.

  “Pay him,” I say. “Set it up as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let you know when I hear back.”

  I hang up with a flick of an icon on my phone, then I turn to Kate.

  She’s not moving in her cage, but there’s a tenseness in her body that wasn’t there before. Her fingers have pulled into fists. Her chest rises and falls more noticeably — like she’s pretending. After watching her in the cab, I can tell she’s awake.

  Clever girl.

  “How much did you hear?” I ask.

  Kate opens her eyes and sits up.

  “Someone’s trying to kill you?” she says.

  Magnificent. Her first instinct is to gather information. No panic, no screams, no pleading. Just straight to work. There’s no sense in holding back; she’s mine now.

  “A contract killer detonated a car bomb meant for me in Mexico City. I was lucky to survive.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve been targeted?” she asks.

  “No, not the first. The most recent.”

  “Why? Retaliation for killing Alexi Osnitski in the Caymans?”

  I take off my suit jacket, fold it neatly and set it down on the bed.

  “Unlikely. That job was clean. I doubt it could be tied back to me.”

  Kate nods, then asks, “And you don’t have any moles in your organization?

  “Very unlikely.”

  Our agents may be capable of fooling a polygraph, but they can’t fool us; Eyal and I routinely question them. We certainly pay them enough to retain their loyalty.

  “Was there anything left of the bomb to analyze? If you could find the man who orchestrated the attack-”

  “I killed him this morning,” I say.

  Kate’s jaw drops, her skin blanching. I suppose in her position she’s not used to people readily admitting to murder. That’ll change.

  “He didn’t know who hired him,” I continue. “Somebody with significant resources, no doubt. But why me? That’s the question I still can’t answer.”

  “Do you think this new lead will pan out?” she asks.

  “I’d say there’s a good chance.”

  Her eyes dart back and forth, her lips moving. She’s calculating, searching for answers — hunting down connections. She’s gotten a lot of information out of me — she knows what questions to ask. It’s no wonder she’s so good at her job. Her father taught her well.

  “I’ve got one more question,” she grunts, testing the cage‘s thick bars. “Why the fuck am I in a cage? What the hell is wrong with you? Let me out right now!”

  “There’s nowhere for you to go, Kate. We’re thirty-five thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean.”

  Her eyes widen, and she glances around, taking in the bedroom — it’s small for a man of my wealth, isn’t it? Now she gets it.

  “Holy shit,” she mutters. “Can I at least take off… Hey! If the collar detonates now, you’ll definitely die, so you better-”

  “I disarmed it,” I say, holding out my phone. “It won’t explode. You’re welcome to take it off if you like.”

  I open a cabinet and toss at her cage a small, blast-proof case like the one she first found the device in at her apartment. “Put it in here,” I tell her.

  “You weren’t fucking with me,” she mumbles. “It really is a bomb, isn’t it?”

  “When I make a threat, I don’t bluff. If you want to take it off, now’s the time. You can leave it on as long as you wish, as far as I’m concerned.”

  She glares at me as she pulls the device open. I glare back.

  Goddamn, she’s beautiful when she’s mad.

  Kate takes a last look at the collar before sealing it in the box, her expression torn between fury and fascination. When she looks up, her eyes once again can’t help lingering on my crotch a moment. When she sees my rising erection, her cheeks flush.

  “Where are we going anyway?” she asks.

  “My home.”

  This gets her attention.

  “Where’s that?”

  I smirk.

  “You’ll see. You’re going to be staying a while.”

  She coils like a snake, staring daggers.

  It’s time for a little test.

  “If I let you out of the cage for a while, do you promise to behave?” I ask, opening the cupboard of my room’s minibar. I pick out a bottle of Eagle Rare bourbon and two tumblers.

  “Yeah,” she says.

  “Ask me nicely.”

  Her scowl could wilt a cactus.

  “All right,” I say, moving to put away a glass. “Never mind.”

  “Wait!” She takes a deep breath, lowers her head and says, “Please, I’d like to come out of my cage.”

  “Better,” I say. I step over and rub my thumb across the lock, activating the fingerprint scanner.

  She steps out slowly, sighing with pleasure as she stretches her legs.

  I pour us each a drink. She accepts hers but waits for me to sip first.

  “If you think I’d poison this, you’re out of your mind,” I say.

  “Maybe you wouldn’t, but somebody’s trying to kill you.”

  “If drinking fine bourbon with a beautiful woman is the last thing I do before I die, I’ll be fine with that.”

  She grins, knocking back her drink, not bothering to savor it. Smiling wider now, she grabs the bottle and smashes it against her cage.

  “Turn this fucking plane around right now,” she says, brandishing the jagged glass in my direction.

  Goddamnit. What
a waste.

  I lunge toward her and grab her wrist, squeezing it harshly, but she refuses to drop the bottle.

  Growling, she tries to break my grip, but I’m far too strong. I wrap her fist with my free hand and pry her fingers free until she drops the bottle.

  “That was not a smart move,” I say, taking her wrists in one hand and grasping her chin with the other. “Not smart at all.”

  She spits in my face. It takes all my willpower not to laugh.

  What a catch she is. She just doesn’t give up. But she’s going to pay for that. I can already tell I’m going to enjoy taming her.

  Ingram takes two pairs of handcuffs out of a drawer below his bed. I struggle to break his grip; he holds on too tight, locking one cuff from each pair around one of my wrists. He then pulls my arms upward, toward a pair of exposed metal hooks built into the ceiling and spaced several feet apart. He seals the remaining cuffs to each hook, spreading my arms wide and lifting me up. I’m not tall enough for this position — either I stand on my toes, or I dangle from my wrists.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say, already sweating. I’m in good enough shape to handle the strain on my feet, at least for a while — but who knows how long I’ll have to bear it? In a matter of seconds, Ingram has rendered me utterly helpless. This is far worse than being in the cage — at least then I could lie down and turn around. Right now I can squirm, but there’s no breaking out of these cuffs.

  “Oh, we’re just getting started,” Ingram replies, fetching a knife.

  Okay, okay. Shit. I fucked up.

  My heart pumps so hard I can hear it.

  “Please,” I squeal, blinking tears down my cheeks.

  Ingram gathers my top in his fist, then drags the fabric over the knife’s tip, splitting the material like tissue paper. I hold still like it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.

  Working carefully, clearly enjoying the task, he cuts numerous rents into my clothes, then sets the knife aside. My relief lasts seconds, as he switches to using his bare hands to finish the job, tearing my clothing into pieces. I shiver as he exposes my body, leaving me in just a bra and panties.

  He’s going to see my wetness. Fucking kill me now, he’s going to see.

  Ingram rakes his eyes up and down, getting a good look at my figure.

  “I’m going to have to teach you some discipline,” he says, slicing through the straps of my bra. “Where we’re going, failing to obey your master carries harsh consequences.”

  Another couple cuts, and he’s destroyed my panties too, leaving me fully revealed. He examines my undergarments, noting the dark coloration where my traitorous pussy dripped. Grinning, he sets it aside and gets out his phone.

  “Eyal, we’ve had a little accident and there’s some broken glass that needs cleaning. Can you please come here?”

  “One minute,” comes the reply.

  Oh no.

  “Please,” I murmur.

  It’s bad enough to be exposed like this for Ingram’s enjoyment.

  “Do you want to clean it up?” he asks. “You made this mess, after all. Or would you like to get back in the cage now, and spend the rest of the flight trying not to cut yourself on the glass?”

  I shake my head, holding back my tears. Fuck Ingram. He’s not going to see me cry.

  “What was that, Kate? I didn’t hear you. Answer me.”

  Asshole.

  “Screw you.”

  Ingram smiles, but says nothing as another man enters the room. Tall, dark and built like a bull, the man carries a battery-powered vacuum that looks like a toy in his hands. He makes a point of looking me up and down, smiling at my predicament. Then he gets to work on the mess.

  “Not the Eagle Rare,” he says, examining the label. “What a waste.”

  “It’s my fault for trusting her not to make trouble,” Ingram replies. “That won’t happen again.”

  Eyal runs the vacuum over the ground; the sound of glass clunking up into the machine raises a racket. At the same time, it washes the beige, carpeted floor. A little at a time, the spilled liquor vanishes.

  “Looking pretty good,” Ingram says, watching Eyal’s progress. For my benefit, he adds, “I guess it cleans bourbon as well as blood.”

  Eyal chuckles.

  I try twisting my body, hoping to hide from their view. However, the extra effort drains the strength in my legs, forcing me to hang by my wrists.

  Ingram steps over and moves behind me. I grunt, pained by the cuffs digging into my skin. After a few more seconds, I lift myself up on my toes once more, though I won’t be able to do it for very long.

  “Look at how she struggles,” Ingram taunts. “Have you learned your lesson, Kate?”

  “Yes!” I blurt. “Please let me down!”

  Then I feel a sharp smack against my ass from Ingram’s firm hand.

  “Eyal’s not even finished cleaning. How could you have learned your lesson so quickly?”

  Fresh tears threaten to spill out. I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can.

  “I swear, it won’t happen again.”

  The next slap catches my other cheek, awakening a new fire. I’ve enjoyed mild spankings in my past — I even have a pair of fuzzy handcuffs buried in my underwear drawer — but there’s nothing playful or pleasant about this.

  “I don’t believe you. First the limo, now here — you never quit. I need you to be more disciplined in the future.”

  Crouching down on one knee, Ingram uses the better angle to swat my rear twice, once from each side. He manages to slap the exact same areas, inflaming my punished skin even further. Squealing, I writhe in place. Processing the punishment robs me of so much strength, leaving my feet aching to keep me up.

  With what energy I have left, I whip my foot backward, hoping to catch him somewhere soft with my heel. Ingram grunts, though whatever I make contact with feels hard as a board.

  “Oh, Kate,” he says, holding my foot in the air, forcing me to balance on the other. “A few inches to your left and that would have gotten me in the neck, instead of my shoulder. You insist on being a slow learner, don’t you?”

  Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  Was that really worth it?

  Eyal shuts off the vacuum, and the sudden silence leaves me dizzy.

  “Say something,” Ingram barks.

  What am I supposed to say, Sorry? I’m sorry I missed.

  “No? Okay then. Eyal, if you’re finished, please give us some privacy.”

  Shit!

  Ingram’s man leaves without hesitation, though he does blow me a kiss as he goes. Then I feel hands on my face, and something hard pressed against my lips.

  I try to twist my head, but Ingram stays with me. He holds my nose until I’m forced to open my mouth to breathe, allowing him to shove inside a large ball. Tasting sterile rubber, I try to jerk my head, but straps on the ball’s side grow taut — in seconds, Ingram’s buckled them behind my neck, securing the gag. I try to spit it out, but there’s no way — it’s in far too tightly.

  “If you’re not going to answer me when I ask you a question, then there’s no need for you to speak,” Ingram growls, smacking my ass a few more times.

  My backside burns, the harsh sting glowing like embers — but far worse is the heat swelling between my legs. Fueled by humiliation and punishment, my pussy drips with need. I’d give anything for it to stop.

  Ingram pauses from spanking me long enough to fetch another pair of cuffs to fit them around my ankles.

  “No more kicking. Understood?”

  I grunt through the gag, the unintelligible sound more mortifying than I could have imagined. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the wide rubber ball, but to no avail. Making matters worse, the effort causes drool to run down my lip, a constant drip onto the freshly cleaned carpet.

  Chuckling, Ingram unleashes a series of rapid strokes. None of them are exceedingly hard, but they build to an infuriating intensity. He aims a little low, nipping th
e underside of my scorched rear. Hard slapping sounds ring in my ears as the inescapable stimulation starts to overwhelm my system. My body practically convulses as I gasp for air, shaking from the pairing of suffering and pure carnal hunger.

  Ingram steps around in front of me, his eyes sinking down to the wetness coating my inner thighs.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks.

  My head hangs low; I can’t even fathom responding. My ass, feet and wrists all throb — my jaw aches, and my pussy clenches, begging for relief I shouldn’t want.

  “You took your punishment well,” says Ingram, drawing his finger up my leg. “I could reward you — give you what your body craves.” Standing up, he whispers in my ear, “I don’t even have to use my cock.”

  Am I supposed to be grateful he’s making an offer instead of taking me as he pleases? Is this his way of trying to prove he’s not all bad? Or is he just toying with me? Maybe he has a line he won’t cross — he’s still a monster.

  Looking downward, I can’t help but see the massive tent in his pants — firm and tall, even under the fabric. His member must be…

  No, nope. I won’t let myself go there. I force the mental image I’ve drawn out of my head, though it comes back, unbidden. Goddamnit, I shouldn’t be turned on by this! My life is in mortal danger, I’m a captive of a murderous psychopath! This isn’t like getting plastered and spray-painting bodega storefronts — I could literally die today, and everything I do somehow makes the situation worse. An orgasm should be the last thing on my mind.

  But it would feel so fucking good…

  “Is that what you want?” Ingram asks, taking out my gag.

  “No,” I grunt, letting the last of the drool fall from my lip.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Whatever.”

  Why am I more angry than afraid? Am I that broken inside?