The Complete Contract Series (41 page)

Stormy

Miller wastes no time pinning me to the wall as soon as we enter the castle bedroom where we will be sleeping for the night.

He whips me around towards the wall with precision, twisting my arm behind my back as I hear his sinister whisper in my ear.

“What the fuck are you doing, looking at Antonio Wayne like that? Do you want to fuck him?”

“No,” I cry out in pain. It feels like he’s dislocating my shoulder. “Baby, please it’s nothing like that. You know I need only you.”

“Palms. On. The. Wall,” is all he says.

Though my palms are sweaty from nervousness, I place them on the wall without taking a chance to wipe them off first. Anything but immediate obedience is going to piss him off.

He slowly rides my skirt up over my hips and I jump when I hear the flick of his wrist as he opens his knife.

“You really should be careful, love. This knife of mine is kept at a razor sharp edge. Then again, you already know that, don’t you?”

He begins sawing at my leather mini and I protest, “Fuck, Miller, don’t do that! This is one of my favorite skirts.”

He viciously grabs a handful of my hair, jerking my head back and growling in my ear, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

He continues to saw at the material until he gets a tear started and then just rips through it like it’s made of paper. Next to go is my G-string, which doesn’t give up as much of a fight with its flimsy material.

“That lovely, tan ass of yours is getting the belt tonight. In case you can’t tell, I’m very fucking offended. Oh, and by the way, you can scream your lungs off out here and no one will care. That guy you were checking out tonight makes my level of sadism look like child’s play. He is a hardcore sadist and you would never be able to endure one of his sessions.”

“I don’t want a
session
with anyone but you, Miller.” I bite the statement out with sarcasm and I immediately hear the swish of his thick leather belt before the sting hits my ass.

“Now, be a good little girl and count. Then tell me thank you caring enough to discipline you.”

“Fuck you, Miller!”

He laughs as another strike hits my ass and tears well up in my eyes.

“Fuck me?!? No, you’re the one who’s fucked.”

My legs threaten to buckle under the pain of the ten lashes he gives me but I’ll be damned if I’m counting anything for him. He picks me up, tosses me onto to the bed, and comes after me as I scurry towards the huge, mahogany headboard. He grabs my ankles, pulling me towards the edge and pushing my knees back by my shoulders.

“Let’s see if that pussy is wet so I can lick up all those sweet juices that are mine.”

He slowly runs his tongue from bottom to top, looking up at me as he does so. “Tastes so fucking good, girl. Yeah, it tastes damn good to know you’re just as kinky as I am.”

He points his tongue, rapidly flicking over my clit as he pushes two fingers inside me.

“Come on, baby, and come for me so I can drink you up like a fine wine, girl.”

My body bucks in obedience as an orgasm rages through my core. He rapidly makes his way up my body, crashing his mouth down on mine and talking in between kisses, “That’s what you taste like and all those juices in your body are mine. Don’t ever let me catch you looking at another man again.” He pins my legs back once more, and slams his cock into me as punishment for this perceived transgression. What better discipline than to be fucked like he hates me? Yes…it is all good between Miller and me.

Miller

By the time the next day rolls over into the evening, I’m fit to be tied. I don’t have a good feeling about tonight and no matter how I try to reason with myself, this uneasiness in my gut won’t go away.

The more I try to identify why I’m feeling this way, the more irritable I get about not being able to put my finger on it. The only thing I can figure is that, in a sense, I’m out of my element. The third world cartel is ruthless. They shoot to kill and they’re some of the most bloodthirsty individuals there are in the game. No matter how long I toss things around in my mind, it always comes back to one thing: my gut is never wrong. Something bad is going to happen and in my world, bad can only be one of two things: someone dies, or someone goes to jail.

No matter what is going on in my head, I always make sure not to involve my woman. I don’t want her feeling anything but secure and if she picks up on my uneasiness, it could put her in danger. I busy myself for the day on the computer while she reads and writes. It’s harder to pass time here in someone else’s home but I make do.

I think Stormy isn’t the only one who needs a vacation from our high stress job; I think I do too. I need some time to go recoup and recharge. We’ve had back to back jobs and I don’t normally do that, but this time couldn’t be helped. If there was any way to get out of this job tonight, I would. What is going on in my head is a hunch, but fucking over Ricardo and Antonio Wayne is guaranteed death. I think fighting through this bad mojo I’m feeling is a safer route than defying the Ramirez brothers. I look at Stormy and I can only hope that this isn’t the last day I spend with her. I can’t imagine life without her and she has already voiced the same sentiment to me. I just want to get this job done and get my fucking ass on a plane with my woman. I’m looking forward to margaritas and white sand. I hope…

Stormy

Miller is making me nervous as fuck. He is irritable and on edge. I have been around him long enough to know that something is wrong. I’m already nervous knowing that we’ll be dealing with the Dominican and Haitian cartel. These third world groups are ruthless. They make us look like kindergartners in the cruelty realm. They have no problem sticking a gun in someone’s mouth and pulling the trigger… and that’s
after
they rape and torture them. I’m not going out like that. I will go out in a blaze of glory before I ever succumb to any enemy. I make up my mind to go into tonight’s job focused on one purpose—getting both of us out alive…

Miller

I’m watching Diego, this Amazon of a man, rip through a steel door like it doesn’t exist. This guy isn’t the same Diego we know who runs the club in Louisville. He is a mercenary from Guatemala who personally bodyguards Antonio Wayne’s big brother, Ricardo.

He has a look in his eyes that can’t be mistaken for anything but bloodlust. He is the type who will get in a feeding frenzy at the sight of blood and, at this point, I’m not quite sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing.

As soon as we muscle our way in, the place erupts in mass confusion. The last thing I want to do is kill one of Antonio’s women. This is one time I’m grateful for the women being separated and locked up in rooms. Anyone out in the open is going to meet their maker tonight.

“Go get the women captives,” I yell at Stormy, thinking it will put her in a safer environment. I take out the pot gut Mexican standing across the room first, knowing it must be the ringleader, Eduardo.

I weave my way through a haze of bullets, killing anything in sight. Antonio wants them all dead and dead they will be. When we leave here, there will be nothing but corpses.

Stormy

I hate these kind of places—warehouses with unending hallways and doors that resemble a maze. My sense of direction is fucked up anyway and when I’m in unknown territory with adrenaline coursing through my system, I feel like I’m riding the edge of an anxiety attack. Now isn’t the time to be losing it.

I take a deep breath before I enter an area where I can hear women crying and screaming in response to the barrage of gunfire they’re hearing. I’m certain these women are already traumatized. Add being terrified to that, and it is utter chaos.

I view a Dominican woman, lying on the bed and watching TV. She’s leaning on one arm in a relaxed pose as if nothing is going on. I make the mistake of taking my eyes off of her for a moment to yell in Spanish for the women to line up outside the door. The bitch uses the time I’m distracted to whip out a fucking hand gun and shoot me. I move just in time, but a bullet still makes its way into my left arm. It’s a good thing I’m right handed because I manage to put a bullet between her eyes before I pass out from the pain. Being pissed off is the last thing I remember thinking… that, and hoping I get out of here alive.

Miller

I make my way back to Stormy as soon as I hear the blasts of gunshots. I’m horrified when I see her on the floor, shot. I can’t ever remember feeling this terrified. I scoop her up, yelling out to Diego and the rest of his men for them to finish up.

She isn’t going to be able to sit up so I gently place her in the back of the SUV rental. I grab my phone, telling Antonio to have his on-call doctor set up for surgery. I don’t even give him time to respond before I take off, using the back alleys and side streets of New York City. I thank God for GPS and my good sense of direction. While Stormy may be lacking in that area, I was blessed with a photographic memory.

Her groans from the back send a morbid sense of relief to me. As ironic as it is, her pained whimpers assure me of the thing that matters most…she is alive.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I yell out as I beat my palms against the steering wheel. I knew something was going to go wrong. Once again, I have proof that I need to listen to my sixth sense. I’m never wrong—never.

I make it back to the castle in record time and Antonio has staff already outside, awaiting me with a gurney. They grab her from the back of the SUV and race away with her. When they wheel her back to the room set up for tragedies such as this, they inform me I’m going to have to wait outside. The place they have taken her is set up like an operating room, complete with a waiting room for loved ones. The reality hits me that this is Antonio’s lifestyle—just another day in his line of work. This castle is set up so that everything a person would need is provided and you’d never have to leave. Personally, I can’t wait to get out of here.

It’s evident, after this little run-in, our stay at the castle will be extended. As much as I hate the thought of being stuck here, I would spend the next week in even the most inelegant of accommodations just to be with the woman I love.

All I care about, or want, is for my woman to live and be okay. A smile spreads across my face as I think about how pissed she is going to be about that big ass scar she is going to have after she comes out of this.

God, I love that woman back there in that operating room. I have never had a woman come into my life and turn my soul inside out, shaking out my most sacred things for her to analyze. She has seen the deepest, darkest demons I have and, yet, she is convinced I can do no wrong.

I get up and begin pacing but when that doesn’t seem to help, I kick the lower half of the wall, resisting the urge to hit it with my fist. Fuck, I wish they would hurry up and tell me something. I’m going crazy waiting…