Circle of Desire (3 page)

Stupidly she’d forgotten to arrange for a gun to be delivered to her room. For some reason she’d trusted him. See what she got for trusting a man?

If she’d been standing, she’d stomp her foot. Not a blink or look from him to indicate one word had registered. No longer did his hands probe and test but instead heated and rubbed to bring pleasure. His eyes followed every inch he touched. He mounded and then squeezed her breasts with the right pressure. She inhaled deeply. Then panting, she groaned and arched into his touch again. Lord of Mercy, his hands felt so good. She wished she could control her reaction. The man wasn’t human; not a drop of sweat touched his forehead, while she wanted . . . no . . . needed him badly. Her fingers dug into his belt as her body moved with each stroke. She hated feeling powerless.

He ignored her as his eyes remained on her heated body. Then he looked away for a second. When his gaze returned to her, she caught the conflict burning in their depths. He wasn’t sure what to do next. Nice to know he was human after all.

Her own flaw of needing to be touched had brought her here. What about him? What did he really want?

Being angry and still aching for him drove her crazy. He thrilled her, excited her with the unexpected. Yet a part of her wanted to kill him.

He finally moved back. Seconds passed as his gaze remained on her. Like a bird caught in a cobra’s stare, she stared back.

“Fuck it,” he said in that deep, soft voice as he yanked off his jacket, tossing it to the other bed, and then rolled up his sleeves.

Her heartbeat picked up speed again. The sleek muscles on his arms showed how strong he was without being bulky. Just the way she liked it.

Then she noticed where his gaze lingered, radiating enough heat to scorch her, and she forgot everything. His stare centered on the vee of her legs. In a graceful move, he stretched out at the foot of the bed, and his arms wrapped around her legs before she realized what he intended. He pushed her heels almost to her buttocks, opening her wide, and then his mouth covered her.

Her back bowed off the mattress. His wicked tongue dove into her and licked the taut nub already throbbing for attention. His teeth scraped sensitive skin as he moaned with her. Two thick fingers jabbed into her wetness and worked in tandem with his tongue.

Each firm thrust of his fingers and tongue wound her body tighter. When he sucked on the knot of nerves, she gasped. There wasn’t enough air in the room. She couldn’t breathe. She’d never had a man go down on her like she was a honey jar, and he wanted every last drop. The sounds of his sucking and licking excited her as much as the act itself. Her hips rotated and thrust against his expert tongue and fingers. Her nipples hurt from being neglected, pointing high and stiff.

She squirmed, wishing she could free her hands to soothe the aching tips. As if he’d read her mind, a broad hand moved up and rolled and tugged one nipple and then the other, pushing her over the edge. She released a long high-pitched moan. Oh, hell, she’d never climaxed so fast or so hard. Limp, she opened her mouth and took gulps of air.

He moved up just enough to rest his cheek against her stomach, his stubble caused her muscles to flinch. His heartbeat throbbed against her thigh as his short breaths tickled her sensitive skin. Good. His treatment of her had pulled him in too.

She waited for him to take her. Though he’d done a good job bringing her to the better side of satisfaction, she still felt a light humming in her body. She knew that meant she needed more.

Then his tongue glided from her belly button to her clit. Her hips reached for his mouth. Holy crap! It was as if she’d never climaxed. Her body hit second gear with the needle in the red. She wasn’t sure if she could take another one like that. Wasn’t he ready for the real deal?

He shoved himself off the bed and stood, shrugging his shoulders, pulling them back as he rotated his head. She heard joints popping. He stretched as if he’d finished a job and wanted to get the kinks out. Then he wiped her off his chin and looked her way with glittering eyes.

She groaned. Oh, shit, he was so damn hot.

He turned away from her.

Shock sent a shiver through her. Was he finished? She admitted his technique was different and a little constraining for her taste, but she wanted more. She’d gotten a glimpse of his groin. Hell, yeah, she hadn’t been the only one wanting more. The impressive bulge against his trousers promised he had the right equipment needed to do the job. But first things first, he needed to let her go.

“Okay. You’ve had your fun. Un-cuff me.” She jingled the handcuffs.

He picked up his tie and slipped it into his jacket as he sat next to her on the bed.

“No. I don’t think so. Not yet,” he said in his usual soft soul-sucking voice.

Heat traveled down her torso and centered on the area now tender from his enthusiastic treatment. She liked how he didn’t raise his voice. She’d liked it on the plane, though she’d thought it was from wanting to keep their polite conversation private. But she now realized it was normal for him, if she could call him normal in any sense of the word. What man didn’t take what was freely offered?

“What do you want?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

When he kept quiet and lifted his chin, she kicked out. In a lightning quick move, he caught her ankles and then threw his torso across her knees. In seconds, he had her feet fastened together with his tie. A snap of his wrist brought a sheet off the other bed, and he wrapped it around her feet. If she’d planned to kick him again, the cushion would make it no more than a nudge.

“Enough already,” she protested. “Who are you?”

He continued to ignore her. Her stomach tightened, and she swallowed to keep the fear down. Was he an operative out for revenge? Had she killed a friend or a brother of his? Which organization was he with? Blinded by lust, what had she missed?

“Who do you work for? Who are you?” she asked once again.

Those eerie amber eyes caught hers. “I’m your worst nightmare, Ms. Olivia St. Vincent.”

A chill swept her body. He’d called her by her real name.

Chapter Two

H
e’d called her by her real name, as much of one as a child found in a trash bin could own.

She looked at him again. Nothing about him appeared familiar. So he wasn’t a previous mark. Those never walked away alive anyway. Without further thought, she decided having the hotel staff find her naked and bound was better than whatever this fellow planned, she opened her mouth to scream.

“We can’t have that,” he said, and in a split second he’d shoved a white handkerchief into her mouth, tying the ends of another one tight behind her head.

Pissed, royally pissed, she felt stupid too for allowing herself to be taken so easily.

He stood and pulled a small medicine bottle out of his pocket. Flipping off the top, he shook out a tiny white pill and walked into the bathroom.

What? Had she given him a headache? She rolled her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to do anything but find a way out of the predicament she’d gotten herself into. While she listened to the water running, she struggled with her bindings. Her wrists and ankles bound tight refused to budge. She’d have bruises tomorrow when she made her appointment with Theo. That was, if she lived. But she wasn’t about to panic yet. She’d been in scarier spots before.

Hoping the bed frame had a rough edge, she sawed the belt back and forth, uncaring if the leather belt would take forever to split. She had to try something. Unbuckling the damn thing hadn’t worked as he’d positioned the clasp beneath the bed somehow. As she worked, she replayed every word they’d said on the plane. Were there any clues?

Nothing. He’d said he was on a business trip and worked for an engineering firm planning high-end communities. She’d used her usual cover of being a buyer for a women’s clothing chain. Men never asked questions about her job as they were certain to be bored with anything but taking her clothes off.

Jesus H. Christ! Why was she thinking about clothes? She was losing her mind. The only clothes she should be thinking of were those she would place on her body after she marched over his dead one when she was free.

He walked out of the bathroom and she stopped working the belt. His eyes flared amber again as he took in her naked body stretched out before him. Her skin felt tight. What was wrong with her? She’d never, ever acted so needy. Dammit, she wanted him and at the same time, she wanted to kill him. The latter was more like her old self. Whatever he had planned for her, she planned to do it twice as bad to him.

She still didn’t know who he was and from the way he handled her, she doubted he worked with a branch of the government. That left only one organization known to be a thorn in The Circle’s side. The Onyx Scepter, better known as the OS, was a former faction of The Circle and had split away ten years earlier. Their goal was to eliminate anyone not working for them. She always guessed the OS was probably a bunch of hard-headed pricks who’d left The Circle because they hadn’t gotten their way. From this guy’s example, she was probably right.

The mattress shook as he sat next to her, placing the glass on the nightstand. He bent over to his ankle, and when he straightened, he placed a snub-nosed revolver next to the glass. Well, how old-fashioned of him. A revolver, huh? He’d been a busy boy before coming to her room. She’d screwed up big time. She blinked slowly to collect herself, enough of the self-pity.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him drop the white pill into the half inch of water. With a finger, he pressed the tablet until it dissolved. That better be for him, as she refused to open her mouth. Gritting her teeth the best she could with the cloth in her mouth, she waited to see what he would try.

“Now, no screaming. Otherwise, you won’t like what I do to silence you.”

Did he really think she was intimidated by what he’d said? As soon as she felt the handkerchiefs leave her mouth, she took a quick, deep breath to scream. No more than a squeak emerged before his hand muffled the sound. He pressed a thumb beneath her jaw to make certain she couldn’t bite. And at the same time, his other hand covered a cool breast and twisted her nipple. Her body shuddered from the pain. No tweaking for pleasure this time.

“Bastard!” she said, though his hand garbled the word.

“I warned you. Make one sound above a normal level and I’ll show you what else I can do that’s even more painful. So keep quiet. Now drink this. It’ll help you relax. We don’t have time to figure out another means.”

Another means to kill her? Shooting her
would
be messy.

He raised her head and placed the glass to her mouth. She glared at him and kept her jaw locked.

“Come on, Olivia. Time’s a wasting. Be a good girl. We can do this the easy way or I can have the pleasure of showing you others.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek.

Had she seen regret soften those amber eyes? He touched her swollen lips. She pulled away. Hard to believe those same hands had given so much pleasure only a few minutes ago.

His brows rose as if he couldn’t believe she refused his touch. Another try with the glass soaked her hair and the pillow. He glanced at his watch and then his cold eyes returned to hers. “I don’t have time for this. I knew you would be difficult, but I didn’t have time to pick up a needle and—”

A knock on the door had him moving quickly. He dropped the glass back on the nightstand. Pushing up her chin until her neck arched from the pressure, not allowing her a chance to scream, he had the handkerchief back in her mouth and the other one tied. Her jaw throbbed. She was certain her chin, along with her body, would be sporting several more purple bruises.

For a couple heartbeats she didn’t hear anything; she guessed he was checking the walkway through the peek hole. A double click and then she heard whispering but couldn’t make out the words.

He walked back in and tossed a sheet across her torso. Two men dressed as EMTs followed. One of them sniggered when he saw her tied up and obviously naked beneath the thin cloth. A look from her captor hushed the man, and they began setting up a gurney.

So that was how they would take her out of the room.

“We can’t move her until she’s out,” the taller EMT said. “People’ll be suspicious if she has a gag, and the hotel will insist on calling the authorities if we bag her.”

Yeah, she could imagine how seeing a body bag going out of the hotel would raise questions. Without bagging her body, she would look merely out of it, like from a heart attack or an overdose. Maybe that was why he hadn’t killed her. Then again, what stopped them from killing her and leaving her body in the room? Maybe they needed her alive for now.

“It won’t be long.” He studied her and then stepped into the bathroom and returned with another glass.

She almost wanted to laugh. Did he think she’d refused because the other glass looked dirty?

He pulled out the bottle with the small white pills again and tapped two out. Then he placed them in his mouth.

Was he crazy? She wasn’t a child waiting for an adult to try it first. Sitting next to her, he leaned over, yanked off the gag, and grabbed her chin, digging his fingers into the area where her jaw connected and squeezed. The pain shot across her mouth and down her throat. She gave in and opened her mouth but tried to block the pills with her tongue.

His mouth covered hers. The unusual tactic shocked her, and she forgot to fight for a second. That was all the time he needed. He spit the pills down her throat. She choked. In the next moment, he had the glass next to her lips and nearly drowned her as he poured the water into her mouth. Water sprayed out of her nose. Sure that she would die from choking, she did the only thing she could. She swallowed. The pills slid the rest of the way down.

“Give us a minute,” he said in his soft voice. He grabbed a corner of the pillowcase and wiped her mouth. He watched her as his hand smoothed the wet strands of hair from her face.

She glared at him. Her throat ached.

Was it poison? Was she wrong and they’d decided that explaining a dead body was worth the trouble? Whatever he decided wouldn’t matter to her soon. Being blasé about death came easy in her line of work. She’d dealt it out often enough.

A languid feeling came over her limbs.

In his own bizarre way, he’d been kind. Most poisons caused spasms and excruciating pain. She blinked. Her lids closed in slow motion and then opened just as slowly. His handsome face remained detached.

She was a job to him as so many had been to her over the years. Yet no one would mourn her passing. She’d always considered herself living on borrowed time anyway. Cheating death over and over again from the time she was a child.

Tickling along her temples made her aware she was crying. She tried to stop, yet the tears continued to stream into her wet hair. Never had she imagined dying from a woman’s weapon. She’d refused to use poison herself—she always liked the direct approach—but he apparently had no such qualms. It would be less of a mess to clean up.

He looked at his watch and nodded.

Was there only one more minute left? She was as good as dead. So she might as well go out with a little dignity. She closed her eyes and waited.

“M
s. St. Vincent, it’s time to open your eyes.”

She heard his soft voice. Had he followed her into hell? She didn’t want to open her eyes. She ached all over.

She’d been merely asleep.

And for the first time in years, she’d slept without dreams. No, not dreams. The word
dream
conjured up fairy castles and drifting clouds. She never had those. Whenever she’d slept, night-terrors visited with regularity. The type where she woke up screaming, clawing at the sheets, sweating from being tortured by those who controlled her.

Whenever on assignment, she wouldn’t allow herself to fall asleep. Catnaps at night and, if time and place allowed, a short doze in the late mornings were plenty to keep her going for a week or two. Then she would arrive home, falling into exhausted sleep, unable to stop the night-terrors from returning. Without neighbors, no one heard her screams, her pleads.

Her arms felt like lead weights, not responding to her command to move.

Wiggling her fingers and toes, she realized straps held her wrists, knees, and ankles to the bed. Parts of her body stung like someone had pressed needles into every square inch of her skin. The brightness on the other side of her eyelids told her a light shone directly overhead. She inhaled. The smell of antiseptic confirmed she was in a medical facility. Had they brought her back to life? Why kill her to bring her back?

She guessed she missed her appointment with Theo. He was going to be rather irritated. What an understatement. Then again, she had a good excuse.

Who would’ve thought she still possessed a sense of humor? Like Theo ever accepted an excuse of any kind. Maybe believing she’d died and then waking up in the enemy’s bed, so to speak, had gotten to her.

“I know you’re awake. Look at me.”

If she had a hand free, she would tear out his throat. She lifted her eyelids. The stinging caused her to close them again.

“Dim the light or turn it off.” The words came out hoarse since her dry throat felt swollen.

“Jennifer, get that switch and wait outside,” the deep voice ordered, the sound mere inches above her head.

With a click and buzz the fluorescent light went off. She blinked several times and opened her eyes. Her kidnapper—jailer? whatever he was—pushed a button on a lamp next to her hospital bed, giving the room a muted glow. She blinked a couple more times to clear her vision.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Like shit.” She tried to rub her achy throat but was quickly reminded of her immobile hands. “Any chance you’ll undo the straps?”

“Soon.”

He checked the Velcro fastenings and took his time returning his gaze to her face. Heat spread from her groin to her neck with every inch he’d examined. Lifting her head, she looked down and was relieved to see someone had pulled a thin white sheet over her chest.

“When are you going to tell me who you really are and who you’re working for?” She rested her head on the pillow and watched his expression, watched for lies.

“I’m Collin Ryker.” His cold eyes revealed nothing.

“Ryker, the head malcontent of the OS,” she stated. Coldness spread from forehead to chin as all the blood drained away.

Even with her rudeness, not a flicker of emotion showed on his face. Further proof the rumors might be true about his merciless elimination of The Circle’s operatives.

“So why am I alive?” she asked.

“You’re too valuable.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “How’s that?”

No one could call him a motor mouth. He towered over the small hospital bed, watching her, always freaking watching her. She dug her nails into the mattress.

“You have certain skills we can use.” Arms crossed, he looked as if he was more likely to send her off to be executed. “I imagine you know many things that we would find most useful at the OS.”

Her gaze drifted down his fine body. He’d changed clothes and wore stylish black slacks, a new leather belt, and a light gray shirt stretched across broad shoulders. The sleeves folded to his elbows showed off nice masculine arms and hands. Ironically, regret weighed her down as she realized she hadn’t seen him naked. What a crazy thought. Once he tortured the information he needed out of her, he’d surely kill her.

“And what makes you believe I’ll help you?”

He leaned close to her ear. “I have no doubt you’ll cooperate.”

What the hell did he mean by that? He wouldn’t have anything on her. Then again, he may not need anything. Only in the movies did the hero or heroine bluster about how they would never do what the bad guys demanded. Life had taught her real bad guys became quite dangerous when pushed and their reprimands immediate and most painful.

Besides, she wasn’t heroine material. Yet she considered herself honorable and committed to The Circle’s goal of removing the most dangerous filth from the world.

Her heartbeat picked up speed. A floating feeling spread down her body. She felt like she was seeing everything happening from a distance. Helplessness and fear were no strangers. She’d endured Theo’s fierce punishments. Her eyes closed and then opened. The noise around her sounded tinny.