Capturing Kate (11 page)

“How do you feel, now that it’s over? Be honest.”

She paused to check her emotions. “I don’t know.” She didn’t want to tell him; it seemed too intimate.

“Kate?”

“Angry at you because you did that.”

“Do you feel better?”

“My ass doesn’t,” she retorted. But even as she spoke, she realized that the pain was mostly gone, leaving behind a low level burn that felt almost good.

“I meant your emotional state.”

“Sloan, that’s just a weird question.” But as she said that, she took a deep, shuddering sigh, feeling her whole body relax, like a huge tension was gone. “I feel exactly the same as before. Actually? I feel worse. More stressed out, more anxious.” She yawned.

“Really?” He touched her cheek. “Just the same? If you feel differently later, let me know.”

“If you do that again, it will probably kill me.”

“I’m not going to do it again. You’ve had enough.”

“You spanked me for, like, forty five minutes.”

“It was less than five minutes, Kate. I watched the time carefully. It just felt like a long time because it hurt.”

“But you said you’d give me bruises on top of bruises.” Her eyes watered. “What if you give me such a bad hematoma from your belt that I have to go to the hospital? And they have to do surgery to fix the broken tissue and it heals weird and my butt will be crooked and ugly forever, and one side will be all shriveled and then nobody will ever love me.” She sniffed, looking up at him sideways, checking to see if he looked remorseful. “Hematoma is a fancy word for bruise, you know.”

He swore under his breath, then said, “I shouldn’t have used that expression. It was an exaggeration. I’m not going to injure you, Kate. I know the belt hurt, but I was watching your skin carefully, and going easy. I don’t think you’ll bruise at all. Why do you think I fixed your leg up—I’d do that, then turn around and injure you myself? No. The spanking hurt, and it’s supposed to, and now it will fade.”

“Oh, really? That was easy?”

“Compared to what some people do. What some people like, even.” His gaze was enigmatic.

“Fine. Whatever.” She shrugged and looked away, but she was pleased and relieved with his reply. She believed he wouldn’t really give her bruises like that, but it was good to hear him say it. Yes, she’d been exaggerating with her complaints, but she really had needed his reassurance.

“And I do know what a hematoma is.” He frowned.

“You’re a fake doctor,” she snapped. “For all I know, you think it’s a shiny rock or something.” She bit her lip.

He rubbed some more lotion into her bottom and she heard a smile in his voice. “Hematite? Kate, understand this. I will never injure you. That’s not fake. Okay? While we’re here I’m going to spank you when I think you need it, but I’ll never damage you.”

The truth was that she did feel lighter in spirit, even though she was angry at him and still embarrassed and confused about what had and hadn’t happened. A huge amount of stress and anxiety was simply—gone. Vanished. She felt calm and easy in her stomach, the vicious pangs of panic soothed.

But she didn’t want to tell him, because maybe that meant he’d want to spank her like this more often. And despite the good feelings she had, the pain in her ass was enough that she’d fight to avoid another punishment like this one. In the moment, it had hurt like fire. Surely there was an easier way to relieve the stress. Normal people didn’t need a spanking for it. She’d look into yoga once she got home. Meditation. Deep breathing.

“Put your clothes back on now, Kate. You can rest while I do work. I’ll get you a fresh t-shirt.” He walked to the cupboard and handed her a folded-up shirt.

“Whatever.” Avoiding his eyes, she stood up and pulled on the top, then the sweatpants. “Ouch. Sore. Ow. Asshole.” She shot him a glance and shuffled to the sink, overdoing her discomfort, affecting a need to limp. “How do you expect me to concentrate when I’m beaten up and all scarred?”

He gave a deep sigh. “You got spanked. You’re going to be fine.”

“Really? How about hand me the belt and bend over, and then tell me how fine it is?” she countered.

He laughed. “In your dreams.”

She glared at him and poured a cup of water, drank it down, poured another. “I would so like to whip your stupid ass,” she muttered. “You just wait.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat. “I said, I can’t wait. For another one of those super delicious granola bars.”

He snorted. “At your service.” He gestured to the table with a rolling motion of his arm.

Chapter Nine

The day passed slowly, with Sloan often speaking into his phone, low conversations, or typing furiously. He was frustrated; that she could see from his demeanor, the tension in his shoulders, the way he cursed and rubbed his forehead.

The only thing she had was her notebook, and the few yellowed paperback novels on the dusty shelf, pages brittle, some falling out, even though the books weren’t all that old. The rain continued, beating at the roof, leaking into a red plastic bucket. When it filled, they took turns opening the door and facing the wind to toss the water into the growing puddle of mud and swirling drops.

She lay on the bed watching him out of the corner of her eye, trying to make her way through a mystery novel, and attempting to ignore the need between her thighs—the passion he’d woken.

She got up, flexing her butt to see if it hurt. It didn’t, not much. She was surprised and relieved that such a horrible, painful spanking was already mostly faded. The residue felt sexy. Remembering how he’d held her down and spanked her, the feeling of his strong hand on her naked ass—it made her want to tear her clothes off and beg him to come fuck her right now.

Did he feel the same way? Was he sitting there in a similar agony, wanting her body with such a fierce need that he could barely stand to stay away? She needed to find out.

“Maybe I forgot to mention that I prefer to read romances,” she announced, pointing at the shelf. “People don’t even kiss in his books.”

“Who?”

“Whatever authors you have there with their political mysteries.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he said, giving her a long stare. “Next time I have to set up a safe house, I’ll remember to stock it with Fifty Shades of Girl Books.” But a smile pulled at his lips. “Why don’t you write me a list and I’ll order them on Amazon for future stays.”

“Too bad you don’t have an FBI drone that can drop off equipment. Oh, is that day not far away either?”

“That’s right.” He winked at her and stretched out his arms. He looked tired, stressed, and she instinctively wanted to make him smile again, or laugh. She liked his laugh.

“Can the drone bring me some McDonald’s? I’m craving their fries. And a Coke. Not that these bars aren’t gourmet and all.”

“Oh, sure. The nearest one is only, say, a hundred miles away. I’m sure nothing will be stale by the time it arrives.”

“Well, the drone probably has a heater inside that can maintain fry temperature,” she retorted. “Otherwise what good is it? Maybe it’s a fry-making drone, and it cooks the fries in its own hot oil when it’s three minutes away from the destination. Geez. Stay up on the technology, will you? And you call yourself an FBI agent.”

He laughed. “Sounds like someone needs a job in the R&D department.”

“Sign me up.” She grinned. “I’d have that thing here right now. Also, it would swing by a Dairy Queen and bring me chocolate ice cream. My favorite.”

“This sounds very useful for undercover work,” Sloan agreed. “And a financial dream. Anything that can contribute to the lazification of America is going to be a hit. You want your fast food? You don’t even need to waste the calories reaching into the drive-through window. No, the food comes right to you!”

He got out of his seat and walked closer to where she stood by the shelf, stopping just short of her personal space. Her heart jumped into a staccato beat at his proximity. “Shut up!” She tossed a Tom Clancy at his chest, giggling when it bounced off and dropped to the floor. “Smart ass. Don’t lie to me. You want a burger right now, too. Admit it.”

“I’ll admit nothing. I’m a trained agent, Kate. We’re rocks.” He crossed his arms and she tried not to stare at the way his muscles bulged out of the t-shirt. God, he had sexy arms.

“The granola bars are rocks.” She bent down to retrieve the book and the pages that fluttered out of it, heart fluttering as her head nearly brushed the crotch of his jeans on her way down and back up. Did he notice that? Did it turn him on? “Seriously. Is there a way to get better food?” He was almost close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body. She wanted to touch his lips, his jaw. She bit her own lip in frustration.

“I’ll make a quick trip to the nearest town once the rain lets up. You need to stay here. You haven’t been reported missing yet, but we can’t risk you being seen in public. I don’t think Mancini’s team are in this town, but even the slightest coincidence could lead to disaster.” His eyes grew serious, and the words made her happy mood dissolve. She bit at a fingernail.

His voice was gentle. “Kate? I know this is hard, but it’s important to stay strong and maintain focus. This is going to end.”

“I don’t know what’s worse. To be missing and have your friends and family panicked out of their minds, worrying. Or to be gone, and nobody notices.” Her eyes welled up.

“It’s better that they don’t know. It would be needless suffering for them. Think positive. If all goes according to plan, we can have this wrapped up, and you home—before anyone knows you’re missing.”

She shuddered and nodded. “I know. It’s just—it’s really hard. I’m so worried about everything. My apartment. My car. I don’t have my purse or my phone. I feel naked. I’m trying to stay positive but I’m—so alone.”

He put his arms around her. “You’re not alone. I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you. As long as you listen to what I say, I can keep you safe. Okay?”

She leaned into his arms, into the protection he offered. “Okay.”

* * *

That evening the storm crashed hard again, tossing branches against the windows and roaring around the eaves. Kate had never known that wind could make such sounds; she’d assumed that wind ‘howling’ was a literary device, but this was real, palpable: An angry sky cat with a deep, wide throat, sending out gusty growls that tore into the wood with acid and screaming saws.

She and Sloan were on the bed; she still in the sweats and t-shirt, him in sweats and a t-shirt that stretched over his biceps. It felt intimate and she was shy, so she averted her gaze. “The storm sounds like it’s going to devour this cabin,” she said, peering at the dark window, splattered with heavy bursts of rain, like raw eggs exploding on contact, full of water.

“It won’t, though.” He sounded confident.

“What if it takes the roof off?”

“The roof is secure.”

“You’re sure? Because if the roof goes off, we’ll be sucked up too, and it won’t end as nicely as it did for Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
.”

He laughed. “I’m sure.”

She bit her lip. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Okay.” He looked at her quizzically.

“Did you enjoy spanking me, before?” Her face grew hot. She looked down at her sweatpants.

“Does your ass still hurt? It shouldn’t—”

She shook her head. “Not much. You didn’t answer my question.”

He pulled her chin. “Look at me. Kate. Be honest. Did it do what I said? Help you purge emotions and dump stress?”

“Yes, but—”

“I like that. I like that you got calmer, more in control of your emotions. That you stopped hyperventilating and the crazed look left your eyes. I thought you might respond well to it, and you did.”

“That’s… not exactly what I meant.” She looked down again.

“That’s the important thing right now,” he told her, his voice firm. “We’re going to be here for a few more days and I need you to stay in control of your emotions until we can get you out. My feelings about it are not critical, other than I care about keeping you safe. It’s my job.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t satisfied, but wasn’t comfortable probing further. She’d felt his arousal, at least before she forgot about everything but making the spanking end. What did that mean? Was it the action that aroused him, regardless of who was over his thighs, or was it her? Did it matter?

“I’m going to turn out the light. I won’t tie you up tonight. You’re not going to try to leave, right?” He made direct eye contact.

“No.” She was mesmerized by his gaze. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

He flicked off the lamp and the sudden darkness made her worried, and when he swung his legs back up into the bed and pulled the covers over his body, she breathed out in relief. She felt safe next to him. Exhaustion tugged at her mind, but she couldn’t sleep. His body was inches away. The heat from his arm reached her, and she pushed her arm out until it touched his, elbow to triceps.

“Sloan?”

“Yeah?” His voice was gravelly.

“Is Sloan your real name?”

“No. It’s my real nickname, though.”

“Oh. I was just wondering.”

She fidgeted her legs. The spot where their arms touched was burning her. Her whole body was focused on that inch of flesh and his body beyond it. So close. So far.

“My real name is Michael. My nickname was Sloan, from my middle name, growing up. It’s a name I use on assignments sometimes.”

“Michael what?” He didn’t answer and she said, “I’m going to sign that nondisclosure anyway. Why can’t you tell me?”

“Ask me something else, Kate.” His voice was taut.

“Whatever.” She turned away and the sheets rustled as he followed.

He put an arm on her shoulder. “The less you know, the better it is. It’s—it’s just the way it is.”

“I get it. Fine.” She got it, but she didn’t have to like it. “Sloan, then. Like when we met in the coffee shop.” She sighed. “I miss that place.”

His voice was a murmur. “Why do you like that coffee shop so much?”

She smiled in the dark. “My best friend owns it, and she keeps the vibe there fun and casual. I like seeing people in town that I know come in and out. It’s like—a pulse for our town, and when I sit in there, I’m right on it, right on top of the life and activity. It’s a vital place to be.”