Xtreme (15 page)

Chelsea let all of this sink in, barely able to process this new information.

The men who'd threatened her life were dead or in prison.

The man she loved was free.

“Ricardo saved me,” she whispered.

“Your boyfriend's a fucking hero if you ask me,” Stanacek said with feeling. “Doc, is it okay if he comes in here?”

Dr. Gordon pursed her lips. “Only for a moment,” she said. “Chelsea needs to rest.”

“Got it. Be right back.” Stanacek left the room.

“Dr. Gordon,” Chelsea said, patting her bandaged head. “I don't suppose you can tell me…”

“If you're rocking the multiple-contusions-and-two-black-eyes look?” Dr. Gordon smiled. “Don't worry, Chelsea, you'll be good as new before you know it. For now, hey, you've still got your smile, right?”

Ricardo burst through the door, a tight expression on his face. When he saw her, the color drained from his skin.

“That bad?” Chelsea asked, dismayed.

“
Mi amor
,” he muttered, approaching her bedside gingerly. He took her hand gently in hers and stared into her eyes. “I am so sorry. It is all my fault that you were hurt.”

“I'm fine,” Chelsea said. Fine was a relative term, after all; she was pretty sure the dull ache in her head and the various stinging and bruised places on her body would all heal.

As far as the psychological effects of being hunted, kidnapped, threatened, and nearly raped and killed, that might take a little longer.

“Chelsea…”

“Tell me something,” she said quietly. “Are you really an Italian cop?”

He raised one eyebrow. “In a manner of speaking, yes. I served with the Guardia de Finanzia for several years before joining the
Comando Carabinieri per la Tutela del Patrimonio Culturale
as a sort of…consultant, I suppose you might say.”

“And now you work for Interpol?”

Ricardo shook his head. “Interpol does not employ agents. It only acts as a liaison among law enforcement agencies of its member countries.”

A huge wave of fatigue washed over Chelsea, threatening to tug her under again. She fought off a yawn. “That sounds kind of confusing.”

Ricardo laughed. “Don't worry. I'll explain it again when you are feeling better. I will be taking a leave of absence for a while. I'm going to take care of you,
querida
.”

Chelsea smiled as her eyelids drifted down. He wasn't asking. He was telling. Calling the shots.

From the start, their relationship had been built on a framework of trust and respect. There were rules of engagement and safe words to ensure she could take back control whenever she wanted.

But as time passed, their roles had become ever clearer, the bond between them deepening as their dance evolved.

Him dominating, her submitting.

Him using, her begging.

Him taking, her finally knowing peace.

“Don't leave,” she murmured. “Please stay with me.”

“Always.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A week later, Chelsea was driven in an FBI vehicle through the busy streets of Los Angeles to her friend Meredith Tipton's gallery. The party Meredith was giving was to be a departure from her usual packed openings. The guest list was much smaller. At first, it was to be limited to Chelsea's fairy godfathers and a few close friends. But when Meredith announced that she'd contacted several private collectors of Marcus Ryder's art, Chelsea relented and allowed her friend to expand the guest list.

“You sure I'm dressed okay?” Tabby asked for the third time. She had traded her uniform for a simple black dress, and her hair was swept into a glossy updo, courtesy of Donny and Rufus, who had insisted on coming to the hotel where the FBI had put Chelsea up to do hair and makeup.

“You look amazing,” Chelsea reassured her.

While Tabby hadn't stayed with her for the last few days after Chelsea was released from the hospital, she had visited nearly every day with updates on the case being built against the gangsters. Ricardo's involvement was classified, and due to the complexity of the case and the number of international agencies involved, he'd been able to get away only for a few hours at a time to visit her. Which had almost been just as well, since, until today, Chelsea had still been assigned a security detail that prevented them from sharing private moments.

But as of today she was free.

Tabby parked and put her official placard in the window. “Perks of the job,” she said cheerfully, and the two walked up to the entrance of the beautiful stone façade of the gallery. The front door was festooned with a garland of white flowers; strains of music came from within.

Before Chelsea could knock, the door flew open and Meredith Tipton swept her into an embrace. “Oh my God, I didn't think I'd ever see you again!” she said, laughing and crying at the same time.

Next were Donny and Rufus. Chelsea had seen them every day when they visited her first in the hospital and then the hotel, and they'd lobbied hard for her to come home and stay with one of them until she decided where she would live next. The news of the case had created an explosion of interest, not just in Chelsea and her gallery, but in her father's work. The Art Crimes unit had offered its assistance in tracking down lost and stolen pieces, and Chelsea was planning a major retrospective show.

All of which meant that her money troubles could be over. She'd already made several major sales over the telephone, and her assistants reported brisk traffic in the gallery.

“You look beautiful,” Rufus sniffed, hugging her hard.

“You just saw her an hour ago,” Donny rebuked him.

“Not in this amazing gown.”

They stepped back to admire the daring scarlet sheath which was constructed of lace with a bit of strategically placed satin underneath. Both the dress and the matching shoes had been delivered to the hotel, in a box with a familiar engraved card.

Bewitch me
had been written in Ricardo's hand.

She searched the small crowd gathered at the table laden with champagne and hors d'oeuvres and strolling through the gallery. She saw Jade Bliss in a stunning beaded jumpsuit, talking to a famous jazz artist who collected expressionist art. Stone Everson, still using a wheelchair while he recuperated from his injuries, was laughing with his wife while their young daughters played in the center of the gallery.

All around her were the people in her life who, she now realized, made up her family. None were related to her by blood, perhaps, but the bonds were just as real and as deep as if they had been. She had lost her parents years ago, but now, finally, the man who had tormented her was also gone, and she felt a measure of peace that allowed her to dream about the future for the first time in her life.

For years, she had dared hope only to build a collection of her father's work, to honor him as an artist who was taken too soon.

Now, in the space of a few short weeks, she had realized that her world could be so much larger. That there was room for love.

“Are you looking for me,
querida
?” a deep voice muttered close to her ear, sending tiny electrical shocks racing along her skin. Then Ricardo de Santos encircled her waist with his arms from behind, nipping gently at the soft skin near her ears. Donny and Rufus, who had been formally introduced to her lover in the hospital and given their blessing, winked and discreetly withdrew. Meredith had already been called away by the caterers.

They were—briefly, gloriously, deliciously—alone.

Ricardo pulled her toward the alcove in which, in poor weather, served as a coat room. Tonight, a balmy summer evening, it was empty.

Chelsea felt her heartbeat ascend to a familiar ragged beat. Heat pooled in her body, and her fingertips ached to touch Ricardo.

“There is no door,” she whispered as he took her in his arms. The lace slid deliciously over her skin, stirring sensations that she knew were only a precursor to the exquisite night ahead, when Ricardo had promised to take her back to his home in the hills as soon as the party ended. “Anyone could walk in on us.”

“My little
putita
,” Ricardo said, as he gently stroked her hair away from her face. “Are you craving an audience again?”

Chelsea gave a shocked little laugh. The encounter in the bar, when she'd serviced a stranger while a crowd watched Ricardo fuck her, seemed like it had taken place in another life altogether.

She had imagined that their lovemaking, once she was out of the hospital and Ricardo was enjoying his first days out of suspicion of the authorities, would be tentative, even gentle. That they would proceed with care, getting reacquainted with each other's bodies, in the heady knowledge that they could be together for real, for always.

She'd even wondered if the desperate attraction between them would wane now that the element of danger was gone.

Ricardo twisted a hang of her long blond hair around his fist and pulled just hard enough to lift her chin, so she was staring into his glinting dark eyes.

“I will not fuck you here,” he said. “I will not even risk marring your makeup. But as you walk back into the room, teasing me with your ass swaying in red silk, know that when we get home you are mine. You will serve me until I am satisfied,
niñita
, and since I have been forced to be apart from you, I have a powerful need.”

“I understand,” Chelsea murmured, her eyes downcast as she felt her body swell and respond. Her nipples tightened against the silk, and she longed for Ricardo's soft lips and velvet tongue, his strong hands, and his gorgeous hard cock. She wanted his palm across her ass cheeks, his fingers teasing and fucking her holes, his cock deep in her throat. She wanted the ropes and toys and tools, she wanted to be bound and forced, slapped and bent over, straddled and splayed and used by him. She wanted all of it and more.

“You are mine,” Ricardo went on, gently releasing her and stepping back so he could admire her from head to toe. “You have always been mine. It was destined.”

Chelsea moaned, unable to restrain the surge of emotion and need from within her. If only the party could end now—but no. There were toasts to be made, thanks to be delivered, a celebration to be savored. And there was also the heightening of her need as her gratification was delayed.

When he got her home tonight, she would be strung as tightly as a violin string. And he would play her like the instrument of his own need, from the first tenuous notes through the building tension of the composition to a thunderous resolution, when they would fall into each other's arms in the glory of release.

Then tomorrow, they would begin all over again.

Chelsea did not know where they would live or how her lover would occupy himself. She was under no illusions that he would give up his dangerous exploits or that she would ever understand everything he did. She would learn to live with an uncertain future as she had learned to savor the present.

“It is time,
mi amor
,” Ricardo said, brushing a kiss on her forehead and steering her out of the cramped coat room. “Your admirers wish to celebrate you.”

In the doorway of the gallery, looking out into the glittering celebration, he held her back with a hand at her waist. “But you will save the best for me.”

Then he released her, and Chelsea went into the love and laughter and joy, knowing that he would always call her back to him. That he would always claim what was his.

The End

***

Did you enjoy XTREME?

Check out more books by Ruby Laska:

The Xquisite Series:

Xquisite

Xtraordinary

Xtreme

The Boomtown Boys Series:

Black Gold

Black Heat

Black Flame

Black Ember

The Cupid Island Series:

Larissa Learns to Breathe

Mandy Makes Her Mark

Plain Jane's Birthday Wish

Standalone Novels:

Mountain Song

Heartbreak, Tennessee

A Man for the Summer

Mine 'til Monday

Along for the Ride

Snow Creek Novella:

Miss Bonny's Buried Treasure

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ruby Laska has always been a bit contrary. Where others see stop signs, she sees green lights. What others consider obstacles, Ruby likes to think of as opportunities. And when it comes to men, Ruby has always loved the ones that her mother warned her about: demanding, conflicted, and more than a little dangerous.