UndercoverSurrender (5 page)

Chapter Two

Silence greeted Vik’s question and Santiago hastily
relinquished his grip on the girl’s arm.

“No? Okay then. She’s mine.
Mine
. Nobody else touches
her. Understand?”

Santiago spoke for the group. “Got it.” He shrugged, with a
little laugh. “Man, you are one possessive dude.”

Vik sheathed the knife and took the girl’s wrist again,
addressing Santiago. “I take it Gunny was lying when he said he was the only
one who knew where Visto was?”

Santiago hesitated.

“Because if he wasn’t lying, I might as well slit your
throat now too. You and Gunny go back a long way and I don’t want to watch my
back this whole time, especially if you can’t get us to our money.”

“I know where Visto is. I been there with Gunny before. And
yeah, we went back a long time, but with Gunny that cuts both ways. I won’t be
missing him or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

Vik took Santiago’s words at face value. If undercover work
had taught him anything, it was that there really was no honor among thieves.
And no respect, other than for the sheer brutality of the other man.

He nodded. “Okay. Good. So we stick to the original plan.
Gunny being out of it just means more for us. We can split his share evenly. So
what do you figure, a day or two for us to get there?”

“At least. Even at this speed.”

“So somebody helms at all times, got it?” They nodded.
“Good. Now if nobody minds, I’m going to go fuck my prize.”

Vik tugged the girl with him down the stairs to the lower
deck and she didn’t resist, in shock by now maybe. By the time he’d gotten her
to one of the cabins and locked the door behind them, he had a lot of
explaining to do. He just didn’t know how much he could.

* * * * *

Michael Reynolds buzzed his secretary. “Have you reached my
father?”

“No. I’m sorry, Mr. Reynolds. We’re not able to get through
to the yacht. The wireless must be out. Our emails keep bouncing back. And the
Bangkok office has been trying to get them on the radio to patch us in, but
they say there’s no answer. Given the time difference, perhaps they’re all
sleeping.”

“Someone’s supposed to be manning the radio at all times.”

“Well, we’ll keep trying, sir.”

“See that you do, Miss Prentiss.”

“Oh and Mrs. Fischer’s here to see you.”

Great. All he needed—his temperamental soon-to-be
ex-mistress. After a pause, he said, “Fine. Send her in.”

Michael came around from behind his desk. Tiffany Fischer
looked as if she used every penny of her very lucrative divorce settlement from
Michael’s best friend to keep herself young and beautiful and fit. Her gleaming
blonde hair hung in curls to the tiny waist he knew she had hidden under her
mink coat and the cheek she presented to him for a kiss was burnished like
sun-kissed cream.

“Not that it’s not always nice to see you, Tiffany, but
we’re sort of in the middle of a situation here. Samantha’s taken it into her
head to elope with some idiot and Father’s swooped in and spirited her off to
the South Seas somewhere.”

“I don’t know why you and your father squander so much
attention on that silly girl.”

“That
silly
girl happens to have an IQ of 160.”

“Well, why does she keep flunking out of college then?
Goodness, what is she, twenty-two or twenty-three and she hasn’t even graduated
yet? And anyway, you should just go ahead and let her run off and get married.
Who cares? It’s not as if she couldn’t always get a divorce.”

Tiffany, who was the recipient of several of them, ought to
know.

“Perhaps because when she comes into her trust fund from our
grandmother, she’ll inherit a significant sliver of the company and I don’t
want that getting in the wrong hands. Not to mention, I don’t like the idea of
these dopes taking Samantha for a ride.” He was almost twice his little
sister’s age and, like all his brothers, not to mention his father, felt
extremely protective of her, whether she liked it or not.

“Why you should defend her, I’ll never know. She hates you.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the reminder. I’m waiting for her to grow
out of it.”

Tiffany shrugged off her mink coat—PETA didn’t scare her—and
Michael worried at first that she might be naked under there. But the expanse
of skin she bared just indicated an extremely low neckline to showcase one of
her most appealing assets. Good. He didn’t have time for her theatrics. He
needed those papers signed by his father and suddenly this father and daughter
bonding exercise had put him out of reach.

“You look so tense, lover.”

Michael hated when she called him that, but after remarking
on it a dozen times, he came to the conclusion that she was unteachable.
Consequently, he never tried anymore.

“Isn’t there something I could do to make you feel better?”

Her seductive patter followed a well-worn path as well.
Feeling better for a man always involved his penis in Tiffany’s book.

As she spoke, she unbuttoned her low-cut silk blouse,
suitably red for the occasion of what was apparently a seduction. He sighed. He
was tired of Tiffany, and although he found it kinder to break it off with a
woman over a nice meal and maybe a parting diamond bracelet or two, perhaps her
showing up here was a sign and he should just do it now.

“Tiffany, there’s something I’ve been meaning to speak to
you about.”

When the red silk hit the floor, it turned out she had no
bra on. God, she really did have magnificent tits. High and full and pink
tipped. He’d noticed them more than once through her clothes or in a bikini top
when she’d been married to his best friend, but did no more than that, his own
personal code being what it was. He’d facilitate a woman’s adultery if he
pleased, but never, ever when the husband was a friend of his.

But before the ink on Tiffany’s divorce papers was dry, he’d
given her a call and the very first thing he did with her, before even kissing
her lips, was to check out those tits and pay the proper amount of attention to
them. Even now, after a few months, when the shine of his relationship with her
had definitely worn off, he couldn’t help but admire her breasts.

As she well knew.

He perched a hip on his desk, one leg swinging off. He
really should get the news of their breakup out to her, but just the sight of
those tits was holding him back. She walked in between his legs and leaned over
blatantly, bringing one of his hands to her hardening nipple and one of her
hands to his hardening cock. He rolled her nipple with his thumb as she
unzipped his slacks. He wasn’t quite tired of these, but unfortunately they were
attached to the rest of her and the rest of her was quite annoying. If she
dropped one more hint about the preposterous notion of him marrying her, he
really would have trouble holding off laughing in her face.

He was never getting married. That was the advantage of
having so many younger brothers. Let one of them get married and give Father
the perfect heir he seemed to have been trying for with one new wife after
another, until even he was too tired to try. No, Michael was never getting
married.

It certainly wasn’t a prerequisite to enjoying connubial
bliss, without the rings of course, in this day and age. He got more pussy than
he could want. Not that he’d ever describe it as such out loud. In fact, he
found things with women went more smoothly when he was silent on the subject
altogether. But they should know, without him having to tell them, that a
forty-year-old bachelor was not going to change his spots—although of course
that was exactly what his father had done when he married his mother, barely
twenty to his forty.

And look how that had turned out.

The extraction of his fully erect cock from his briefs
brought Michael back to the moment. Miss Prentiss knew better than to walk into
his office unannounced, but he wanted to save her the trouble of even getting
up to knock should the need arise. Depressing the intercom to his secretary, he
said, “No calls unless it’s my father and no interruptions otherwise, please.”

He’d cut the connection before she could get out her
habitual “yes sir”. His full attention on Tiffany now, he pulled her up and
closer so he could lick and nuzzle her breasts. A parting treat as it were. And
indeed, her skin felt as silky and well-tended to as it always did. Her nipples
as big and sweet. He sucked contentedly for a moment until her hand stroking
his throbbing cock reminded him of one of Tiffany’s other wonderful qualities.
She could give head like a trained professional.

With one last tonguing of her nipple, he urged her down
lower until her head was right where he wanted it. She licked the tip of his
cock delicately and then, eyes open and locked with his rapidly narrowing ones,
she deep-throated him. He sucked in a breath at the exquisite sensation, his
fingers clutched in her hair as he gave himself over to her expert ministrations.

Whether one part of his probably-not-really-functioning
brain was still hung up on trying to get in touch with his father, or whether
her ministrations were really too expert for her own good, Michael found
himself coming mere minutes later. Way too fast under ordinary circumstances,
but he did nothing to draw it out. Tiffany swallowed, as she always did, and
then stood up as he quickly tucked his cock back into his pants.

She was right. He did feel better.

“Tiffany, there’s something we need to talk about…”

* * * * *

This cold green-eyed stranger had just murdered another man.
Slit his throat and dumped him over the side of the yacht. As calmly as Justin
might order another martini. And that wasn’t the most shocking thing. The most
shocking thing was that Samantha was glad of it.

She groaned.

He had saved her from being raped, but that was apparently
only so that he could rape her himself, without any interference and without
any sharing. She swallowed, hard, looking around. Incredibly enough, the cabin
he’d taken them to was her own. The very cabin her father had dragged her out
of probably less than an hour ago. And in that time, her entire world had
changed.

The man was staring at her, his back against the closed
door. Vik they had called him. Could she plead with him? Reason with him? Would
he show mercy?

“Why did you kill your friend?” she asked softly.

“Gunderson wasn’t my friend. And I killed him because there
was no other way to keep him away from you. He was a persistent fuck.”

Samantha backed away until her bare legs bumped the sharp
corner of the bureau against the wall. “What are you going to do now?”

He pivoted off the door and muttered, “I don’t know. You
tell me.”

“What?”

He ran a hand through his longish, dark brown hair, making the
waves of it even messier. She took a deep breath, feeling along the surface of
the bureau, trying to remember if she’d left anything sharp on it that might
come in handy right now.

Sex was another one of those things each undercover agent
had his own rules about. Some considered sex while undercover not to count. The
agent’s “cover” was having sex, not him. He’d known guys who really thought
that having sex while undercover was not cheating on their wives. They were
just pretending…with their dicks in some other woman.

Vik had never felt like that. Even though he didn’t have the
complication of a wife, the thought of sex while undercover just made him
nervous. Too much opportunity to blow it. Being undercover was about keeping
complete control at all times and having sex was about losing it. The two
didn’t mix as far as he was concerned.

He’d made an exception in Jakarta, but he shouldn’t have.

Which was all by way of saying that, even counting Jakarta,
he hadn’t had a good fuck in a very long time. So he was kind of overdue for
one.

He looked at his “prize”.

In any case, he wouldn’t even deserve a penis if it didn’t
get hard at something like the sight that was greeting him now. Ripe high tits
covered by no more than a thin wet camisole and legs so long in shorts so short
he could almost see her hipbones. Even when he forced his gaze up to her face,
the plush lips and wide dark eyes plus the waist-length silky brown hair didn’t
do much to discourage his libido.

So of course his dick got hard. Really hard and his jeans
didn’t mask it. Though the clammy wet denim wasn’t making it very comfortable
to sport an erection, his dick wasn’t discouraged. The only thing that could
discourage
him
, if not his dick, was the expression on the girl’s sweet
little face.

Terror.

The poor kid was convinced he was about to rape her, as well
she might be, if it wasn’t really
him
of course. How to reassure her
without blowing his cover…that was the issue.

“Don’t look so scared,” he began, holding his hands out in
what he hoped was a universally understood nonthreatening manner. “I’m not
going to hurt you.”

Score zero as far as reassurances went if her expression was
any indication.

“Would you like to get into some dry clothes?”

She shook her head no emphatically. Oh yeah, getting
into
was preceded by getting
out of
. That was probably the part she objected
to. He couldn’t exactly leave to let her change with the rest of them thinking
he was in here enjoying his hard-won booty.

“I’ll turn my back. Okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He whipped his own tee shirt off and to the floor, though he
supposed he’d have to keep the jeans on since he didn’t have a spare pair
handy. “Those wet clothes can’t be very comfortable.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I can see your tits right through that shirt.”

“Fine, I’ll change. Turn around.”

Vik chuckled at her abrupt reversal. He couldn’t help it.
She glared at him and he turned his back.