The woman’s voice finally registered, authoritative and clipped. “The alleged drug lord was caught in a massive explosion aboard a steamer just off the Houston Ship Channel after a confrontation with a joint task force involving the FBI, the DEA, and the Coast Guard. Critics are already questioning the lack of due process in regards to the sudden raid, but the FBI spokesperson claims that this is a major win for the Bureau.”
The video switched to a row of metal rooftops. Above them, a plume of black smoke suddenly rose up. It hung in the air, a hot air balloon made of soot instead of cloth. The newsreel flipped again to a closer shot of the podium. Brody stood behind the microphones, looking smug, speaking nonsense about impressive planning and foresight.
God. Foresight. As if they could look into the future, when they hadn’t even seen what was right in front of them.
Lance stood in the background, wearing a suit and appearing very serious. I hoped he got a promotion out of this. At least someone had done been doing his job.
The TV flicked off, leaving only a black screen. I could still see the images on the dark reflective surface.
The anchor woman.
Thick smoke hanging in the air.
FBI agents, smug and misguided.
“I did that for you,” Ian murmured in my ear. “That’s what I gave up for you. My whole life. My past. But you’re going to make up for it, aren’t you?”
I whimpered, unsure what he wanted. Unsure what I could take.
I couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of what I’d seen on the news. He’d cut off part of himself, just now, with a staged explosion designed to ensure the FBI left us alone. They had no incentive to keep looking, now that they had their closure. Their fucking commendations.
That criminal part of him had been hurting him, decaying. But even though he was better off without it, losing it had to hurt. His pain echoed through my body. His loss became my own.
I expected his anger. I would have preferred it, but his hands were gentle. He turned me so I faced down on the sofa. Implacable and tender, he flipped up my skirt and tugged down my panties. Exposing my ass.
“Yes,” he murmured. “You’re going to make it all better.”
He smacked me on the ass with an open hand, causing more shock than pain. Too soft, really. I deserved worse, and he knew it. I heard the snap of leather as he took off his belt. He pressed my wrists to the base of my back. The first blow was fire across my skin, embers underneath. I screamed into the dishtowel, blow after blow.
I fought him too, but it was too late for that.
When he worked one slippery finger into my ass, then two, I stilled. It was the least I could do, a small penance for the sins I had made. The pillow dried my tears. I was ready for him when he finally mounted me. I breathed through the burn and bore down on him—and let him in deeper. With my pain and my patience, I soothed him, the way he’d done for me. In the process, I soothed myself, because my heart was still pounding after seeing those news reports. After imagining, for a split second, they were true. That he wasn’t alive and hurting me. Imagining he had died.
I had to remind myself he was safe. Scratch that. He was mine.
I may have been the one with my hands tied behind my back. I may have had thick cock pressed inside my ass, pushing and pushing to the rhythm that he liked. It may have hurt, and fuck, it did, it did. But he was mine. I’d caught him. And I was going to keep him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I saw his shadow first, a wavery blur from beneath the water. With a kick and a burst of speed, I broke through the surface of the water and breathed deeply. Island air felt sharper. Cleaner, after spending most of my life in the inner city. We had travelled since leaving Houston. Mexico. Argentina. Egypt. Always staying in warm places.
Ian stood on the porch, elbows resting on the porch rail. He wore only loose slung pants made from a linen local to the area. The sun kissed the golden skin of his back, the dappled silver-brown of his hair.
Even from here I could see one eyebrow rise. “What are you wearing?”
I swam to the edge of the pool. “Funny thing. I couldn’t find my swimsuit anywhere. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to wear that anymore.”
He liked to watch me swim naked. I would have simply obeyed him…but sometimes disobeying was more fun. Watching his eyes darken in displeasure. Having him use the offending swimsuit to bind my hands. Knowing he got rid of it after that.
I never did find it. Now I wore a thin tank top instead with thin lace straps. My darker nipples were visible through the wet ribbed fabric. It was a taunt, really. And he knew it.
“Come here.”