UNDER BY DURESS (7 page)

“Wait.” He stood up, alarmed. “You’re leaving me?”

“I can’t manage both the backpack and you. I’ll be back.”

He looked confused. “But where are you going?”

“You’ll see.” She dipped a toe in the water. “Shit, this water’s freezing.” She looked at him artfully. “I’m going to whip your ass for this, Rossini.”

Not waiting to see his expression, she waded in and swam a one-handed crawl to the waterfall, her other hand dragging the backpack, trying to get her body moving before it seized up on her. She didn’t stop. Stopping was fatal.

When she reached the churning waters under the fall, she exhaled, took a deep breath, and dived. She found the underwater tunnel first time. Kicking furiously, she headed for the light the other side. Thirty seconds later, she popped out the other side. At least, she thought it was thirty seconds. Unencumbered, she could do it in ten.

She surfaced and scanned the sparkling cave. It hadn’t changed. The walls still dripped water and the gentle sound of lapping echoed overhead. Swimming to the rock ledge, she flung the backpack out, opened it and drained out the water. Feet kicking the water to stop the cold seeping into her bones, she checked the zip lock bag, relieved to see it was free of water.

She wondered how the hell she was going to pull Rossini out then remembered the pitons. She clambered out, recreated the pulley system, and prepped a rope. By the time she had finished, she was shivering and the thought of going back into the water made her feel sick. She stripped off her soaking jeans, thinking they would only drag her down, then dived in before she could bottle out. She cleared the tunnel quicker without the dead weight.

Rossini was pacing the water edge. Furious.

“Couldn’t you have filled me in?
Merda
! I’ve been going crazy. I didn’t know if it was an underwater tunnel, or if you’d drowned, or a hidden passage, or what!”

She stared at him bemused. “You look like you actually care?” Her teeth began to chatter.

“Of course I
fucking
well care. I’ve been trying to stop you getting hurt since you started this madness! Why would you think otherwise?”

She waded out and listed examples on her fingers. “You chased me after you crashed; then you went for me once you knew I’d recognized you; every time you look at me the way you’re looking at me now. You’re the
mafia
, Rossini. You supply drugs. You should be behind bars. You’re wanted for the murder of your own father whom you obviously hate.”

He looked shocked. “I don’t . . .  didn’t . . . hate him.
Cazzo
. I . . .” His eyes dropped to where her rock-hard nipples were straining against her T-shirt every time she drew breath.

Tahima glared at him. She was dripping wet, freezing cold, and now she was fuming. “What the
fuck
are you looking at? And what the fuck are you doing on dry land? Get in the friggin’
water
!”

His eyes met hers. “No. You can’t go back out there. You’re freezing. You need to warm up.”

She slapped him. Hard. When his eyes darkened, she slapped him again. He stepped back. She followed him, gasped, spun him so he could see the black bear pacing towards them, pointed at the pool and yelled in his ear. “
NOW
!”

This time he obeyed her.

Tahima physically hauled him out to deeper water. She thought she heard the sound of a helicopter overhead and searched the sky, but could see nothing. Rossini was beginning to panic as the weighty handcuffs pulled him down into the freezing temperatures.

She turned on her back, got behind him, and supported him until he regained control. “Take a deep breath, relax, and let me do the work. But you can kick your feet. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“On three . . . exhale, deep breath. One . . . Two . . .
Three
.”

He did as told and she pulled him down and into the tunnel. She fought to reach the light, grateful he was not fighting her. Her lungs were straining by the time she reached the other side. Muscles burning, she willed him to kick. Fortunately, he had a powerful kick even with leg irons on and he practically propelled her up. They popped up together and gasped in a lungful of air.

She pulled him towards the rope. It came to her then, that without that kick, they wouldn’t have made it. Rossini would play on that. Well, she was going to have to remind him that he was the one that walked off.

He let her tie a bowline under his armpits and offered her his shoulder as a leg up. She made good use of it, pushing him down into the water then pulling him up with the rope. His head broke the surface a second time and he gasped. Then, with her pulling and him kicking, he was on the rocky ledge beside her.

His eyes raked over her, the pulley system, and the backpack. “You can’t keep doing this,” he gasped. “It’s like you’ve got a death wish you don’t know about, and I’m like this catalyst making it happen.”

She blinked. “You just want to get out of what’s coming to you.”

“Oh no, I’m going to make you go through with it. Because if you don’t, I’m going to cause you merry hell. It’s not me you want to punish. It’s that fucking ex who messed with your head. I just happen to fit his profile. Well, if it stops you killing yourself then
bring it on
.”

Tahima stared at him, aghast. She shuddered. Then she shuddered again.

His angry expression switched to worry. “Merda. We need to get you dry, or you’ll die from pneumonia before you can do anything to me. Please, I’m begging you, Tahima. Uncuff me. Let me look after you. I give you my word; I won’t hurt you or take advantage, or anything.
Hell
, I’ll put the damn things back on myself once you’re back in control.”

Tahima couldn’t speak. She could hear her teeth chattering from a distance. She sank to the ground, a shaking, frozen bundle of nerves. She hadn’t the strength to fight him.

“Tahima, please, I can’t help you like this. Trust me this one time.”

God, she was so cold. She tried to work out what he wanted from her. Her head felt like wool.

“Please, Tahima, the keys!”

She nodded. It was a struggle to take the chain off her neck. When she had, he turned his back to her and dropped to his knees, presenting her with his wrists encased in steel, rigid handcuffs. She could barely tell which key to choose, let alone hold it. She fumbled about trying to get it to fit in the lock. She tried again. His right wrist fell free. Her eyes began to close. He spun around and caught her before her head hit rock. He pulled her against his chest. His hands rubbed her arms, chafing her skin.

He was hurting her. Just like before . . .

“Stephen,” she whimpered. “Stephen messed with my head.”

~ Chapter Six ~

Tahima woke up wrapped in long limbs and curled into a warm body with something hard pressed against her back. Memory returned full force and she opened her eyes.
Shit
.
She’d let Rossini free
. And he was slumbering behind her.

Her pulse started to race.

She realized they were stark naked because their clothes were laid out steaming on the ground. The sun was high in the sky. They could only have been asleep an hour. It felt like a week. Her eyes scanned the rocky ledge outside the crystal cave and she appreciated the wisdom of letting the warm stone leech into her aching bones.

She started to carefully lift one of his hands aside when fingers gripped her arm.

“I gave you my word,” he said as she froze. Then he let her go.

Tahima scrambled to her feet, grabbed her T-shirt off the ground and pressed it against her as she turned. “You undressed me!”

He sat up slowly, hands raised. “Nothing else, I swear.”

“You had a hard on against my ass.”

He grimaced. “Tahima, looking at you turns me on. I can’t help it.”

She shook her head. “No—”

“I only warmed you up. You were freezing. I did nothing else.”

“Turn around.”

He didn’t hesitate, swiveling on his ass to face away.

Tahima pulled her T-shirt over her head, swamped by conflicting emotions— fear and anger predominant.

She hunted for the zip lock bag and found it. The stun gun was inside, intact. She took it out and switched the drive stun on to check it was still working. Rossini visibly flinched, but he did not look back. Her heart settled back into place to see it was undamaged.

She found her panties and slipped them on. They were slightly damp, but her warm skin would dry them out. Her jeans needed longer. She straightened, back in control. Now when she looked at his naked profile all she felt was the heat of desire.

Rossini hadn’t moved. She realized he was waiting for her decision—giving her control so she wasn’t forced to take it.

What to do?

She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Stand up and turn around.”

Again he did as she bid without hesitation. He stood before her naked, his cock at half-mast. His eyes flicked to the stun gun.

“You don’t need that to control me.”

“What if I want this to punish you?”

His cock stiffened. “Then we’ve already agreed the limits.”

“That’s it?” Her lips twitched. “Hands off the balls?”

His eyes glinted in a way she didn’t understand. “However you want to put it.”

Tahima relaxed. “I can touch you . . .”

He looked confused. “If that’s what you want, Tahima.”

She stood there for several seconds trying to work out what she did want. Debating if she
was
certifiable. She was dancing on the knife-edge with Gian Rossini. Did she hold the power here? Who was enthralled to whom? Seconds ticked by. He didn’t move, waiting for her to decide.

Her feet made the decision for her. She moved to stand in front of him. “Don’t touch me, okay?”

“If that’s what you want.”

She nodded. Her eyes slid down his body. He was hard and pointing straight at her. She lifted her eyes to his face and caught the blush on his cheeks. She stepped closer, staying slightly to one side, so his cock grazed her outer thigh. He jolted as if she’d shocked him with the stun gun, making her jump.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She raised her hand and pressed her fingers against his chest, hearing the subtle alteration in his breathing. “Don’t speak . . .”

She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his chest, smelling his heavenly scent and listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. Stephen had ordered her to do this. It had made her feel loved and cherished. Helped her to accept whatever scene he had planned for them to enjoy that day.

She had trusted him with her soul. Then he had trashed it.

She lifted the stun gun and ran it up and down the curve of Rossini’s back. Testing his resolve. And his word. She could feel his tension, hear his breathing quicken, but he stayed still and held his tongue.

“What’s the safe word?” she asked.

“Carlos.”

She pulled away, pressed the stun gun against the hard length against her leg and felt his cock wilt away. He didn’t want this. But he would take it. She kissed the base of his throat for that and, instantly, he was back to full strength.

She raised the weapon, jammed it into his side, put thin air between them and switched it on for a brief second. He held his breath, but otherwise did not react.

She moved it to his ribs. “Five seconds,” she whispered. She stunned him again. This time he gasped.

She zapped him in the small of his back. “Ten.” This time his knees buckled. She supported him as he dropped to the ground.

“Twenty,” she warned, testing him.

He tensed, but said nothing.

She placed the stun gun below his collarbone. “Or maybe thirty.”

He shook his head. “Carlos.” His breathing was ragged.

So, thirty was a hard limit and she didn’t need the stun gun to control him. If he really wanted to he could disarm her easily.

“Stand up. Turn around.” She didn’t need to watch him this time to know he obeyed.

She moved to their drying clothes and pulled his belt free from his pants. Then she found the long rope. She studied the trees around them. One had its first main branch at the right height. Dropping both belt and stun gun on the ground, she walked around Rossini to stare into his eyes.

“I promised you a punishment.”

His eyes smoldered. “I remember.”

“Hold out your hands like you’re praying.”

He did. She was getting used to his obedience.

She bound his wrists together with the rope making sure to leave a long length. She half-circled him and tugged at his hands spinning him around. Then she led him on the makeshift leash to the tree she had selected. She threw the rope over the branch, caught it and pulled, hoisting his hands into the air until he was on his toes. His expression stayed neutral, but his breathing betrayed his nerves. She tied the end to a low branch and tried to remember the worst punishment Stephen had ever meted out to her.

“Fifty lashes.”

He paled, but did not protest.

“Keep count. If I ask and you give me the wrong number, I start again. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

She nearly said “Yes, what?” Stephen would have, but she couldn’t get the words out. “Good.”

She collected his belt and tested it on a rock. Rossini flinched at the resounding crack it made. She tested it again, harder. This time he held still.

She moved behind him, weighing the belt in her hand. She touched the leather tip to his buttock where she intended it to land. He tensed.

“You need to relax,” she told him.

“Not so easy in practice.”

She struck his behind leaving a pink mark. “That was for speaking. The next is number one.”

He nodded to show he understood.

She lashed out harder and hit the other cheek.

He hissed.

The next one she aimed at his back, making sure to miss his kidneys. She slightly mishit that one and his yelp startled the birds out of the trees. “How many?”