Cartel (18 page)

I sat on the floor in front of the washing machine and watched as the white sheets tumbled around and around, hot suds rinsing away the evidence of everything we’d done the night before. Not that it mattered. I could wash the sheets, hell, I could burn them, and it wouldn’t erase the invisible marks he’d left on my skin.

After Dornan had left, I’d cleaned up the table, disposing of the bloody bandages and the bullet that he had torn from his arm. Then, I’d had a shower and shampooed my hair until it squeaked between my fingers. Finally, I had stripped the sheets from the bed.

What I really wanted to do was go to the front door and scream and pound my fists until someone helped me out. I was starting to feel increasingly uneasy about my situation, especially in the wake of throwing myself at Dornan last night.

Este had been dead less than a month, and I’d gone and done that.

But I didn’t pound on the door, or scream for help, or any of the other dramatic scenarios I’d imagined. I found some bread in the freezer and fixed myself some toast, buttered thickly, and made another coffee. Then, partly to stop myself from anxiously pacing the front hall, I took my toast and coffee and sat on the floor in front of the washing machine.

It was an odd spot — I could have sat on the couch, or at the breakfast bar, even on the bed — but I’d chosen to sit in this small room and breathe in the artificial scent of sunshine, thanks to the fabric softener I’d located and added.

Sunshine. How I wanted some of that, for real. While I chewed on my toast, I tried to picture living here long-term. It made me think of the enormous risk Dornan had taken in bringing me here, somehow convincing Emilio not to sell me at auction, and although I doubted he would ever say anything about it, the fact that he seemed to give a fuck about what happened to me made a strange warmth crawl up my stomach and into my chest. Beyond the obvious physical attraction we had, the big bad biker seemed to genuinely care about me in his own fucked-up way.

I was still trying to figure out my thoughts when I heard the front door slam.

Damn.

I was meant to be ready to leave. He’d said that before he left. Shit! I scrabbled to my feet, forgetting about the sheets and the scent of fabric softener.

I dumped my plate and mug on the breakfast bar just in time to see Dornan standing in the hallway.

He dropped his helmet to the ground beside his feet, and I jumped when it crashed on the white porcelain tiles.

He stalked towards me. He looked angry.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. Jesus. Since when had I become a submissive girl? What was I apologising for, anyway?

I was tired, I realised. So bone-achingly
tired
, and I didn’t want him to get angry and leave me alone again for weeks.

‘I was washing the sheets,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll get dressed now.’

His expression morphed, that infuriating grin appearing on his mouth again. He didn’t say anything else, so I took that as permission to get dressed. I headed for the bedroom, giving him a wide berth.

Not that it mattered. It seemed that no matter how far apart we were, Dornan would always find a way to reach for me. He took a step forward and shot his hand out, curling his grip around my arm.

I didn’t struggle. I stood where I was, halfway between the kitchen and bedroom, his fingers digging deep into my skin.

‘Look at me,’ he commanded.

Slowly, I turned my gaze to meet his.

His eyes raked over me, like he knew he already had me.

And he did. His father might technically hold the deed over my life, but after last night, there was no mistaking who was in charge of me.

Dornan Ross.

I wanted to shiver, but I refused to let him see what he was doing to me.

He dropped his grip from my arm and stepped in front of me, reaching for the tie around my waist that knotted my robe shut. He pulled one end quickly, and the robe fell open. I gasped. I was completely naked underneath, and goosebumps broke out on every inch of my exposed skin, despite the Californian heat.

I started to close the thick material, but he slapped my hands away, pressing me backwards until my back hit the wall. It was pretty much the same place I’d stood last night when I’d pounced on him; tried to get him on my side.

He trailed one finger along my shoulder. With his other hand, he gripped the base of my throat. It wasn’t tight, but it was uncomfortable enough to relay the message. He was calling the shots.

‘You washed the sheets.’ It was a statement. I didn’t dare move.

I nodded.

‘Why?’

What did he mean, why?

‘Because they were dirty,’ I said hurriedly, frowning in confusion.

He appeared to think about that for a moment before releasing his grip and taking a step back.

‘Get dressed,’ he said. ‘You’ve got one minute.
Go.
’

I stumbled to the bedroom, fully aware that if I wasn’t dressed in one minute, he’d make me leave the house in my birthday suit. I dragged a denim skirt and panties from the closet and threw them on, followed by a bra and a black scoop-neck tank that clung to my breasts. There had been no pants in the bag of clothes he had left me a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t miss the significance of that.

I heard the click of fingers, and knew I’d narrowly escaped an outing in my underwear.

I quickly tried to grab a pair of shoes, but he was already there, blocking my way.

‘No shoes,’ he said. ‘Shoes make it that much easier to think about running.’

I gave a small nod to say I understood.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked dully, looking at the floor.

He took my hand and looked at me sidelong as he guided me to the front door.

‘You’ll see.’ The threat in his words was unmistakable.

The road was rough — the sealed asphalt had gone as far as the main tourist drive of Joshua Tree National Park, but beyond, the corrugations were more rustic. He drove and drove, Mariana fidgeting beside him.

Finally, she spoke.

‘Can I have some water?’ she asked softly.

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Nothing until we leave.’ He didn’t want her to try and run from him. No shoes and no water made her even more helpless than she already was.

‘I’m thirsty,’ she protested.

He glared across at her, one hand going down to his belt. ‘There’s only one thing in this car that’s going in your mouth,’ he threatened. ‘Your choice, darlin’.’

She closed her mouth and slumped back in her seat, staring out of the side window.

Thought so.
He put his hand back on the wheel. Damn, being a bastard came a little too easy to him sometimes. He almost delighted in her suffering.

‘Are you bringing me out here to kill me?’ she asked a few moments later.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘No.’

‘Seems an awfully convenient place to bury a body,’ she continued.

He snorted. ‘If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t waste my time driving to a national fucking park, baby.’

She nodded, apparently satisfied.

A few minutes later, they pulled up onto the shoulder of a narrow, dirt track.

‘Out,’ Dornan said.

She eyed him warily. ‘I don’t have shoes.’

He grinned. ‘I know.’

He got out and circled around, opening her door for her. Fuck, he was such a gentleman. The irony made him chuckle.

She stepped out, walking tentatively over rocks and scrubby ground-cover weeds, until she reached the back of the car.

‘Stay there,’ he said. He popped the trunk, taking out a sniper rifle that would make GI Joe’s eyes water. It had cost the Brothers a pretty penny, and Dornan guarded it like a precious diamond. He’d killed a couple of guys with it, blew them to pieces actually. He wasn’t a long-range marksman, but she didn’t know that.

He slung the rifle over his shoulder and gestured up the hill in front of them. ‘We’re going up there,’ he said. ‘If you dawdle, I’ll tie you to a fuckin’ tree and let the ants feast on those pretty bare feet.’

She gave him a blank stare before falling into step beside him.

The terrain was harsh, unforgiving. He saw the way she winced as the sharp rocks in the limestone trail cut at the soft soles of her feet.

‘Almost there,’ he said. She gave a small smile of appreciation. Wait. Why the fuck was he comforting her? Because they’d fucked the night before?

When she crested the hill and he gave her a set of binoculars, she wouldn’t be smiling in appreciation anymore. She’d be bawling her fucking eyes out in despair.

He couldn’t figure out if the annoying buzz in his stomach was excitement or dread.

He was about to destroy the girl who already thought she’d lost everything.

My feet were bleeding and blistered. We’d finally reached the peak of the trail, which was washed out in some places, and completely gone in others. Still, Dornan seemed to know where he was going, as he pressed on.

But the bastard was wearing hiking boots. He had water. I’d resorted to licking the sweat from my palms whenever I thought he wasn’t looking.

‘That won’t work,’ he said, as I pressed my palm to my mouth again. ‘Too much salt. You’re only making yourself thirstier.’

I glared at him, stopping where I stood.

He stopped a few paces ahead of me and turned sharply, sending rocks skittering from beneath the soles of his heavy boots.

‘You really want to test me?’ he asked. ‘You don’t know what I’m capable of.’

I blinked back tears. My top was clinging to my back, drenched in sweat. Flies buzzed around my face, trying to extract the last bit of moisture from the corners of my eyes and mouth. I swatted at them, but they were relentless.

‘Please,’ I pleaded. ‘My feet are bleeding.’

He pointed to a spot about a hundred metres up. ‘Just a little further. Then you can sit.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll even give you some water.’

He winked at me and pressed on, widening the distance between us. I hesitated a moment, taking a chance to get a breath and look around. This wasn’t the family hiking trail, oh no. We’d passed several signs that warned we were trespassing on private property, and to turn back. Dornan had ignored every one of them.

My hesitation evaporated as I took in the hot desert around us, punctuated by mountains and a salty marsh. The terrain was unforgiving.

If I ran, I’d die. Even if I managed to evade Dornan, the desert would swiftly claim me.

Now his refusal to give me water made sense. I was dependent on him, even out here. Of course, I wouldn’t run.

I started walking again, pushing my hands on my knees to try and get some traction with each heavy, sharp step that tore open fresh skin on the soles of my feet.

Finally, I reached the top of the impressive hillside, panting as I stood beside Dornan.

He took a long sip from his canteen. ‘Want some water?’

‘Yes, please,’ I said.

He nodded, gesturing to a rock beside him. ‘Sit.’

I did, grateful to have the weight off my poor abused feet.

He crouched in front of me, the grin on his face annoying the fuck out of me.

‘
What
is so funny?’ I asked, a little more sharply than I should have.

Darkness snapped back into his eyes again and I flinched.

‘I’m going to show you something,’ he said, his voice completely serious now. A charge of electricity sizzled and burst as it flared between us.

It was like the air suddenly became thicker, more humid, and if he touched me, I’d burst into flames.

‘Okay,’ I said, my thirst driving me insane.

‘You’re not allowed to run,’ he warned. ‘If you run, I’ll shoot you. Do you understand?’

I nodded.

‘What I’m about to show you,’ he continued, ‘will seem like cruelty. It will make you feel like you want to die. But you’re not going to die, Ana.’

My hands began to shake as I took in a dry, hot gulp of desert air.

‘Are you sure I want to see it?’ I whispered.

He nodded. ‘You’ll thank me, one day.’

‘Water first,’ he said. Delight sprang forth inside me.

I smiled like a good little slave. ‘Thank you,’ I said, and I meant it. I was so fucking thankful that he was finally letting me have something to drink.

Still crouched in front of me, eye to eye, he took the canteen from a loop on his belt and unscrewed it. He smiled slightly as he pressed the stainless steel canteen to his lips, taking a mouthful.

Taunting me?

He set the canteen at his feet, and I frowned in confusion. His smile remained, wolfish and self-assured, and I realised he hadn’t swallowed. He gestured with one crooked finger for me to come closer.

Oh.

I leaned forward. In that moment, I couldn’t have given two shits that he wanted to give me the water from his own mouth. Ordinarily, the power play would have annoyed me no end. But now, all I saw was an opportunity to slake my unending thirst.

He pressed his lips to mine, raising himself slightly so he was above me. Then he opened his mouth and let the cold water inside flow into my mouth.

It was divine. It was bliss. It was exactly what I needed.

As I swallowed the last drop of water, his hand reached around the back of my head. I tested his hold gently; I wouldn’t be able to pull away if I tried.

Our mouths had been simply touching before, a bridge to pour the water from one vessel to another. But the water was gone now, and I jolted as I felt his tongue against mine.

It was cold, still fresh with the moisture from the water. Without thinking, I pressed my lips against his harder, tilted my head, and caressed his tongue with my own. I would have eaten him alive if I thought it would quench my thirst.

I felt his lips twitch, and I knew he was smiling. Bastard. I tried to pull away but he anticipated my move, opening his mouth wider, and kissed me with a violence that was as terrifying as it was exciting.

I stopped resisting. I melted into his possessive embrace.

I was already going to live and die with this man.

I might as well enjoy it.