Reckless: A Dark Romance (The Masters Book 1) Page 5

  I thought I could make a deal with the devil, and now I’m in hell. I could have been drinking hot cocoa at a cabin in the Catskills with Brendan.

  “Suit yourself,” Ingram says, unlocking the cuffs around my feet. He releases my arms next, one at a time, careful to keep me from falling. I practically collapse into his arms. I’m too exhausted to fight him or find another weapon. All I can do is groan as he manipulates my sore limbs to get me back in the cage. I feel around, trying to find any bits of glass before they cut me, but there’s none left in the carpet. I can’t even smell the bourbon.

  “Listen to me, Kate.”

  I look up at Ingram, still working to catch my breath.

  “I’m going to bed. When I do, I don’t want you pleasuring yourself while you’re in here.”

  “I won’t,” I snap. That’s repulsive. Like I would do that, here, under these circumstances and in his presence. “Why would you even say that?”

  “Because you need to get used to the idea of doing what I say. You need to accept that you belong to me now. That is not your wet pussy, it’s mine. That’s not your cute little ass, it’s mine. If you don’t get that soon, you’re really going to regret it. Trust me.”

  With that, he starts unbuttoning his shirt. I turn around, refusing to watch. The last thing I need is to see him undress, revealing his impossibly gorgeous physique. I listen to his clothes rustling, then the ruffle of him getting into bed.

  The lights go out, leaving me alone in icy darkness. Naked, locked in a cage — my ass still smoldering from the punishment.

  I suppose I should get used to it. I expect I’ll soon suffer many of these indignities, because I’m never going to stop trying to escape, no matter what. I’m going to get free, and when I do I’m going to take down Ingram Dent’s entire operation. I won’t stop until he’s rotting in prison for the rest of his life.

  He’s going to wish he never met me.

  Seeing Kate struggle and squeal got me so hard, I can’t sleep. I hear her shifting around in the cage, and my cock refuses to be ignored. Tempted to rub one out, I sigh. I’d rather not have her hear me do that, and there’s no telling how long she’ll be awake. Try as I might, I can’t set aside the many mental pictures I took while disciplining her. Kate’s an impossibly beautiful woman. It’s no wonder she gets men like Victor Sovereign to talk so easily. She must be truly irresistible when she turns on the charm, and she likely breaks a lot of hearts.

  If only I could tell Eyal to change course and fly this plane for a few extra hours. I could bind Kate to this bed and just enjoy the sight of her. I’d start with her lovely face and work my way down, examining every soft line, gentle curve and creamy tone. Her perfect figure, proportional and fit — I’d study every fine detail like she was a Monet or a Vermeer. Seeing her skin shift from pink to red as I punished her was like watching a blank canvas turn to art, only soon it will be blank once more and I can paint another masterpiece.

  Of course, that’s only if she deserves it — only if she acts out and forces me to punish her again. Judging by what I’ve seen so far, I think that’ll very likely happen.

  Eventually I drift off, waking a few hours later when Eyal knocks on my cabin door. I glance at Kate, who’s sleeping — for real this time — and head out.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Noam just sent an update,” says Eyal, showing me his phone.

  The video on screen comes from Noam’s camera; he’s looking at a man lying in a pool of blood, his forehead pierced by a bullet. I’ve never seen him before: middle-age and emaciated, with a wispy mustache. His glassy eyes stare up into oblivion, and his jaw hangs open.

  Noam turns away from the body, revealing he’s in a crummy hotel room, and walks out.

  “That was his informant,” says Eyal. “Whatever information he had for us is gone.”

  Fuck. Whoever’s trying to kill me must be covering his tracks. We should have seen this coming, ever since the assassination attempt failed, but I’m not sure there was much more we could have done. Whoever has me in their sights is a serious threat — they’ve got the resources and tactics to succeed.

  “We’ll find a new lead,” says Eyal, shutting his phone. “We’ll investigate who killed the informant.”

  I grunt, shaking my head.

  “It was a professional hit. I doubt you’ll get anywhere.”

  Eyal nods.

  “We still have forty minutes before landing, if you’d like to get a little more sleep.”

  “No, I’m up. Let’s get to the brief.”

  “Hardt would like to speak with you,” says Eyal. “There’s an important matter. He wanted you to visit him right away, before the meeting.”

  “Did he say why?”

  Jamison will be glad to hear the trip to get Kate went well, but I can’t imagine what he wants to talk about that can’t wait for the meeting.

  “Were you given the day’s agenda?” I ask.

  “No, it was not disclosed.”

  Interesting. That’s somewhat unusual. If Jamison doesn’t want others to know the purpose of the meeting, but he’ll meet with me beforehand…

  “Thank you,” I tell Eyal, dismissing him.

  As we approach the Enclave, I shower and dress. I should be livid about our dead informant in New York, but instead my thoughts turn to Kate. Grinning, I replay last night in my mind, enjoying her fight. Despite my warning to her to behave herself, I hope she gives me a reason to punish that gorgeous body of hers. I’ll leave her ass so raw she can’t sit down for days — it’ll be my pleasure. Before long, my cock hardens once more; I ignore it for now.

  When I get out, I find Kate awake in her cage. I thumb the switch to unlock it.

  “Get cleaned up,” I say, pointing to the bathroom. “Everything you need is in there. Don’t make another mess.”

  She glares, but says nothing as she goes by. After a minute, I hear her brushing her teeth. I read the news on my tablet, waiting for her to finish. Eyal brings two breakfast platters for us — with plastic cutlery. I’m hungry, so I don’t wait for her to eat: scrambled eggs, toast and sliced pear, with a cup of orange juice. I grumble at the lack of coffee, but I’m not letting Kate around any hot beverages.

  “Sit,” I say, when she gets out, her wet hair sexy as fuck.

  I keep an eye on her while I open a dresser drawer and take out panties, a bra, black leggings and a white top,

  “Get dressed.”

  She obeys, her eyes widening in surprise as she tries on the panties, finding they fit perfectly.

  “You keep a lot of women’s clothing handy?”

  “Would it be a shock if I said they’re for you?” I reply.

  “No,” she sighs.

  Once she’s dressed, I beckon for her to sit and eat. She winces as she puts her weight down on her ass, which must still be tender from yesterday. In typical Kate Atwood fashion, she refuses to admit to any discomfort. Her mood improves as she eats. I imagine having clothes again helps too.

  “Stand up, hands behind your back,” I say once she’s finished eating.

  She crosses her arms in front of her chest instead.

  “If you want to be paraded around naked, that’s an option.”

  Scowling, she slowly positions her arms as ordered. I retrieve a few sets of zip ties and bind her arms at the wrists, then above and below her elbows. Her elbows don’t touch, but she’s rather limber. A little practice and stretching, I bet I can tie her much, much tighter. Next, I slip a clean cloth between her lips and knot it behind her neck, making an effective but not too uncomfortable gag. To finish, I fasten a thin, black collar around her neck and attach a leash.

  Her eyes flutter and she groans as the leash attaches, and I have to fight off the urge to slip a hand between her legs and massage her undoubtedly soaked folds.

  “Just to make sure you don’t run,” I say. “Though I’d love to see you try.”

  Kate grumbles through the gag, an outrageously sexy
sound.

  I lead her out of the plane and watch her reaction as she takes in the sandy beach at the edge of the tarmac and the palm trees shaking in the stiff breeze.

  “Welcome to the Enclave,” I say. “Home of the Masters.”

  There’s no look of recognition in her eyes. She hasn’t heard of us. Good. Now she has.

  It’s hot out, as usual for the Caribbean, but the wind helps. My cotton suit breathes well but I’ll be glad to get inside.

  “Eyal, take her to my residence. If she makes trouble, you have my permission to waterboard her.”

  Kate squeals through the gag and twists her body, but doesn’t try to run. Eyal nods and takes the leash from me.

  “I’ll see you soon, Kate,” I say, turning onto a cobblestone path inland.

  Warblers dart through the palms, their bright yellow flashes a welcome sight. Insects buzz past my ears, and the sun cascades in rays through breaks in the tropical canopy. Before too long I break off from the main path and head toward Jamison Hardt’s home, the only residence on the island sized like a proper vacation home: far from a mansion, but not a cozy bungalow either.

  I ring the doorbell and glance up at the security camera. The door opens, and a refreshing rush of cool air chills the sweat on my brow. His home smells of baking bread and citronella candles. Polynesian masks hang from the walls between artful nude paintings, the result of Jamison and Colette’s conflicting tastes. For every painting he obtained, she demanded a mask. After nearly thirty years, the collection has filled the entire residence. Of course, there’s no one around who’d care how incongruous the pieces look together, much less dare to use it as an insult.

  “Ingram,” Jamison says, coming around the corner with glasses of iced tea for us both. He’s already dressed in his suit. “How was New York?” His gray hair freshly trimmed, his tanned skin’s smoother than men twenty years his junior. Though he’s lost much of the musculature of his prime, Jamison still looks capable of taking or landing a hard punch.

  Grateful, I accept the drink and take a sip. Perfectly brewed, it produces a subtle, fruity aftertaste.

  “It was fine. Mission accomplished.”

  “I saw her on the airstrip camera,” Jamison says, gesturing for us to take seats in the lounge. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to kill her?”

  “Sure,” I reply, grinning. “She’s already cost me my favorite bottle of bourbon. But I think she’ll be worth keeping around. I can always kill her later if necessary.”

  Could I, though? Honestly, I’m not sure. She’s everything I’d hoped she would be. As smart as her father, and as beautiful as she is intelligent. Plus, she has some very interesting turn-ons.

  “If she ever gets off this island, after what she’s about to see…”

  “I’ll hunt her down myself,” I say. “But that won’t be a problem. And considering her connections, she might have information we can use. We should at least keep her around until we’ve found out.”

  “Yes,” Jamison says. “That’s true.”

  I set down my tea and lean back in the black leather recliner.

  “What’s this meeting for?” I ask.

  “I’ve approved Anton Ford to take the next step. He’ll be formally applying to join the Masters.”

  Now that’s interesting. I knew this was likely coming, but not so soon. It will raise a number of issues, though also opportunities.

  “He’s demonstrated that he’s a committed ally, and his potential contributions to the group can’t be ignored,” Jamison continues. “His telecommunications tech would give us surveillance and intelligence capabilities far beyond what we’ve ever had.”

  “You would be willing to have an even number of Masters?”

  Should we have any tie votes, the gridlock could cause problems. Our organization works best when we can decide on a course of action and then carry it out. No one defies the will of the many when the majority is clear. But take that away…

  “It will only be temporary,” says Jamison. “I’d like to retire within the year.”

  Whoa.

  That would solve the even number, but the Masters have relied on his leadership for decades. He’s an institution. It would be the end of an era.

  “Why?” I ask. “You’re still at the top of your game. You could do this for as long as you want. I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’d welcome it.”

  Jamison chuckles, smiling as he sips his tea.

  “I appreciate the flattery. I’m sure you mean it, and that you’re right. I don’t have to retire, but at this point, I have nothing left to prove. Why not enjoy my twilight years? What’s the point of living in an island paradise if you work all the time?”

  Wheels turn in the back of my head. If he’s going to retire that soon, it’s time to start planning now.

  “I get it,” I say. “I don’t plan to work forever either. If this is what you’ve decided, then I’m sure you’ve thought it through. Congratulations.”

  “Don’t tell anyone else for now. I don’t want there to be a fight over succession.”

  “Of course,” I reply, unable to hide my smirk. If I’m the only one who knows, then there won’t be much of a fight at all. I can start positioning myself to take over now. Jamison must know this, and want this, or he wouldn’t be telling me.

  “So, do anything else fun yesterday?” Jamison asks.

  The scalpel is in my hand, cutting the throat of the man who nearly killed me.

  “Not really,” I reply.

  I would sooner believe the Earth is flat than suspect him of having any involvement in the assassination attempt, but no one outside my direct organization need know about it. I’ll tell him everything when the perpetrator is caught and killed.

  When the meeting time draws near, Jamison sends me on my way so I can collect Kate.

  I head to my residence, where Eyal nods to me from the command station built into the foyer.

  I find Kate in her new cage — it’s slightly larger than the one on the plane, with a cushioned floor and a water spout she can suck from if she gets thirsty. She’s still bound and gagged, and glares at me when I let her out.

  “Come on, pet,” I say, lifting her to her feet. “It’s time you met my friends.”

  He takes control of my leash and gives it a gentle tug. Anger rises up in my chest at the humiliation: being led about like an animal is a step too far. If Eyal hadn’t looked very eager to waterboard me, I would have tried to kick him in the balls.

  Warmth has gathered in my core once more, and every instinct inside me says to plant my feet on the ground and resist the leash. Then again, my instincts have been extremely shitty lately. I do it anyway, forcing Ingram to stop. I won’t be degraded like this!

  Grinning, he asks, “You don’t want to meet my friends?”

  I shake my head.

  There’s virtually no chance Ingram and his “friends” are going to sit down with me for tapas and charades. How do I know he’s not going to strip me down and pass me around to be used? That’s why he brought me here, isn’t it? For his entertainment? Otherwise, why not just kill me?

  The fact is, Ingram has shown me his secret island retreat. Hulking security guards patrol this place in groups, though none of them seem armed; there are cameras everywhere. Whatever this place is, people like me aren’t supposed to know about it — which only makes me want to know more. I do want to learn who his friends are, and what they’re all doing — but I know it’s not going to end well. I have to get out of here, somehow.

  Ingram jerks my leash harshly, nearly toppling me over.

  “If you make me late, I will leave you in that cage for two days with nothing.” Whispering in my ear, he adds, “No food, no water, no clothes — nothing. Now fucking move.”

  “Screw you,” I mumble through the gag, well enough to be understood.

  Chuckling, he smacks my ass a couple times. Even through the leggings it stings; I’d only just recovered fully from yesterda
y’s spanking.

  “Are you finished?” he says. “Or do I need to get the shock collar?”

  Fuck me.

  My pussy clenches. My knees wobble. I can feel juices soaking through my panties.

  “Ask yourself, Kate: do you want the most powerful men in the world to see you like this?”

  I inhale deeply through my nose and close my eyes. The rhythm helps; I force my thumping heart to slow.

  The most powerful men in the world? He can’t be serious. This… this I have to see.

  Opening my eyes, I nod at Ingram to lead the way. I do whatever I have to do — flip every mental switch I can. I force out all thoughts of my humiliation, my likely imminent death and the massive bulge in Ingram’s pants. I go into full journalist mode — if I somehow survive this, I’m going to have quite a story.

  I’ll give Ingram credit for one thing: he knows how to motivate me. When it comes to studying people, he must be as meticulous as I am. That puts me at a real disadvantage, considering my life is literally an open book, and I know very little about him.

  No longer fixated on finding a good time to run, I focus on every detail: the small cabins dotting the island’s shore, the larger communal buildings, the paths of the guards as they wander — a pair of beautiful women wearing nothing but heavy chains, marching with their heads bowed in the opposite direction.

  All of the structures have solar panels built on the roofs, and out at sea wind turbines float along the surface, their white blades steadily spinning. Oddly, the cabins appear to be built in a variety of styles, as if constructed at different times, rather than all at once. This place isn’t some kind of converted resort; it’s something else entirely.

  I wish I knew where this was; a few Caribbean islands aren’t that far from the South American shore. If I had to swim… but aren’t there sharks? And what if there’s a storm? I need a boat — or to contact someone who can send help.

  My mind works overtime, and I lose track of how long it takes to walk where we’re going: a spacious pavilion covered in a tall, thatched roof. Throne-like wicker seats encircle a fire pit; something like two dozen men mill about, accepting hors d'oeuvres from naked waitresses. Beyond the seating area, several other men and women work an outdoor kitchen. Smells of buttered lobster and stuffed crab cakes waft toward me, awakening a powerful churn in my stomach. The unbelievably delicious aroma makes me swoon, but I forget about it just as quickly as we get close to the crowd.