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  “I don’t think that man, or any other, will be bothering her again. He really is smitten. Yeah, I told him I felt the same way about you. I just don’t know what I’d do if you ever left me.” He facetiously eyes me and raises a sardonic brow. “Should I be worried about anything? You girls really worked your magic on us. That is some kind of mojo you have going on, girl. Are you going to get mad at me again and sleep with Alexis tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble.

  “Is she your girlfriend? Is she still mad at me?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble again. He is purposely trying to antagonize me and I’m not reacting.

  “You know,” he says as he slams his cognac back and reaches for another one. “I don’t think I have ever had a woman as hardheaded as you.”

  I never can read my husband. He seems to be getting more possessive and dangerous when it comes to me. All I can figure is that he is worried about Agent Turner getting me away from him. If anyone can help me or rescue me it would be him. Do I need to be rescued? Why do I feel a hole in the depths of my heart at the thought of being without my abductor? Yes, we both know if anyone can rescue me, Agent Turner can. I have no intentions of using him for that reason. Even if it works for me, he has no jurisdiction in Guatemala and my best friend is still at the mercy of Ricardo. I’m not going to do anything that will put her in danger.

  I don’t want anything to happen to the agent either and, as crazy as it sounds, I don’t want my husband to go to jail for killing an FBI agent. I have officially bonded with my captor.

  Antonio’s mood only deteriorates as the night progresses. I can tell he is irritated because he isn’t getting any response from me and it is bugging him.

  He is right in my face and interrogating me. “You know, Roxanne, if I ever thought you were playing me, I’m not quite sure how I would react.”

  He throws a picture down on the table. “I do know one thing, though. The Ramirez brothers don’t cotton to being played. Are you playing me, bitch?”

  I know not to say anything as I look at the picture of the man who has been nearly beaten to death for threatening his brother’s wife, Juanita. Nothing that I say right now is going to be right.

  “You bitch! You bitch, you beautiful, fucking bitch!” He leans in, pulling my hair as he passionately kisses me. His mouth engulfs mine as his tongue explores me. There is more passion in his kiss than many people have in an entire session of lovemaking. He is so intense. I have never met a man who carries so much energy and charisma inside him. He is a walking time bomb that’s set to go off at my command and I can only hope he explodes in a productive, and not destructive, way.

  He pulls his mouth away from mine and leers at me, studying each and every response he causes by his kiss. He smiles in a sinister manner as my breathing becomes heavier. He grabs the back of my hair with one hand as he pushes my panties to the side with the other and he shoves his finger inside me. He growls in my ear, “Are you playing me, bitch? I will take you down, Roxanne!”

  He is scaring me… and it is turning me on. I feel like I am going to have to change my clothes, I am so wet. The fact that he has me cornered in a darkened area of a club full of people as he accosts my body is a total turn on. Everything about this man sends my body into hyper drive. I grab a handful of his hair and pull him to me as I gasp, barely able to breathe as I tell him, “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

  His lip snarls as he shoves his finger in and out of my pussy while glaring into my eyes. The connection I feel with him is indescribable. When we’re in a room together, no one else exists.

  He shoves the top of my dress over, roughly sucking my breast in the darkened corner of the club. He then gets right in my face and hisses out, “Bitch!” He studies my face and I know that he knows I am getting ready to climax. He watches, intrigued and captivated as an orgasm racks my body with pleasure. He never removes his eyes from mine and I, in turn, do the same. The connection between us is undeniable and with each passing day, it only grows stronger.

  “You sit your sweet ass in this booth with me tonight. I’m not playing with you, Roxanne.” He gets up and leaves me sitting here. The longer I sit, the more I realize that I need to change my clothes.

  I exit the booth and I’m making my way upstairs to change as Antonio comes up behind me and hisses in my ear, “What did I tell you to do? Get your ass back over to that booth.”

  “I’m scared that I’m dirty. I’m scared there is a spot on my dress. Can I please change?”

  “Hell no, you can’t change! Maybe that spot on your dress will keep you from walking around the bar and having to be seen!”

  I glare at him before I obey and make my way back over to the booth.

  He nods for drinks and the waitress makes her way over with them, unaware of my plight. Nobody in this club would help me anyway; they’re all too scared of him.

  He glares in my face with a snarled lip and cold, black eyes. “You lie about everything else. Lie and tell me you belong to me. Tell me you will never leave me. Tell me I don’t have to hold you captive and that you will stay with me of your own volition. Lie to me again and tell me that you love me, that you’re in love with me.” His face searches mine as if he is looking for answers, some cure to free him from the demons that plague his soul.

  “Let’s just leave it at this. You screwed my brother out of a lot of money and now you are my property! I’ll never fucking let you go. Ever!”

  Just then, Alexis makes her way over and I shake my head no, trying to warn her of Antonio’s bad mood.

  “Get out of here, Alexis,” Antonio commands, never taking his eyes off me. “I saw that.” He squints his eyes and facetiously asks, “Are you trying to save her from the big, bad bully?”

  He leans over to whisper in my ear as he nuzzles in my hair. I can feel him smelling me as if it calms him. “Tell me you’re my property! Let me brand you, baby girl. Let me tie you up and carve my initials in your body so the whole world will know how crazy you make me.”

  I look him dead in his eyes and say, “I’m your property!”

  “You’re damn straight you are, girl!” He grabs my arm and practically drags me from the club, declaring that we are going home. The thought of being alone with him both frightens and intrigues me. My body is a surge of electrical currents at the mercy of a madman. As soon as my feet hit the foyer entrance, he looks at me and calmly states, “You have two minutes to be upstairs in my bedroom, naked and kneeling down.” Let the mind fuck begin. I take off running because the mood he is in assures me that I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his belt.

  I hear his footsteps coming and my heart beats faster with each step. My head is hung and I only see his high polished shoe in front of me. For some unfathomable reason, I lean down and kiss it. There is so much eroticism in the act that when I do raise my eyes, I see the outline of his hardened cock in his tailored pants. He glares down in my direction and I raise my fingers, taking his cock from his pants. I run my tongue over the slit of it and it jumps in my hand. My warm mouth covers him and I take him in, inch by inch, as he tugs at the handful of hair he holds. I massage his sac with my other hand as I lick and suck, purposely trying to drive him mad. He pulls me off of him and he’s biting at his lower lip like he is so fucking angry with me that he could spit nails.

  “Whose property are you, Roxanne?”

  “I’m Antonio Wayne Ramirez’s property,” I answer.

  “And what did you do to find yourself in this situation?”

  “I stole money from the Ramirez brothers.”

  “And what was your retribution for your crime of stealing?”

  “To marry Antonio Wayne Ramirez.”

  “And do you plan on running out on your debt?”

  “No, Sir,” I answer.

  I never know what to expect from Antonio and whether he is romancing me on a moonlit night in his castle or savagely fucking me as he whispers threats in my ear, the man turn
s me on.

  I watch as he undresses but then he pushes me down onto the floor, face first, and mounts me. He slowly strokes his cock up and down my opening. I try to push back on him and he smacks my ass with his open hand. Fire courses through me and settles in my core. Another strike causes me to cry out. His open hand feels as if it hurts more than a paddle or a cane does.

  He begins slowly running his cock up and down my now soaked opening. My fingers grasp at nothing—just closing, opening, and clenching at the air. I need to be filled. He reads me as he always does and his words assure me that he is purposely taunting me.

  “Tell me how badly you want my cock buried in that hot, little pussy of yours.”

  “Tony, please, I need to be fucked. I need to be fucked by you.”

  In one smooth move, he pushes into me and bottoms out. I groan in a mixture of agony and pleasure, victory and defeat. I feel victorious because I have obtained that which I crave but I also feel defeat because I have become addicted to a very dangerous drug—my husband. He pulls out of me, painstakingly slow, and then just as slowly, makes his way back in.

  “Touch that clit of yours, baby. I want to feel that vice grip pussy of yours lock down on me. That’s it, baby girl. Be a good girl and come all over my cock.”

  Shards of light pass before my eyes and I feel like tiny slivers of glass cut over every nerve ending in my body. On and on, wave after wave of pleasure courses through me as multiple orgasms engulf me. He never allows the first one to end before he sends me spiraling into the next. I am his, he is mine, and we are one…

  Chapter Thirteen

  Antonio Wayne

  I wait until she falls asleep for two reasons before I leave to go take care of some business. The first is that my wife is incredibly nosey and the second is that she already worries too much about something bad happening to me because of the lifestyle I lead. Though her attempts to feign animosity towards me don’t go unnoticed, I’m fully aware that my wife is a liar. It’s not really in a bad way; it’s just how she protects herself from me. She hasn’t yet learned that there is no safety from a man like me. Her life, and her heart, couldn’t be in any more danger than they are right now.

  The guards come to attention as they hear my footsteps approaching. The Haitian prisoner I’m holding in my dungeon strains his neck as he looks up to view my very large form. The emotionless stare I give him is indicative of the ice I feel running through my veins and encompassing my heart whenever I have a man to interrogate. I have an extremely cold and sadistic side and this prisoner is getting ready to witness it firsthand. I feel no mercy for this man who has stolen from me and, most likely, traumatized my women. If my women are going to be traumatized, it damn sure better be by my hand.

  I command the guard to open the cell door and I enter to view the prisoner with his head laid on his chest, obviously weary from days of interrogation and torture. This prisoner is not menial. I don’t waste my time on menial prisoners. This is a situation that I will enjoy personally dealing with.

  I approach the prisoner and pull his head up by a handful of hair. “Your name is Jean Philippe,” I say, more as a statement than a question.

  “Were you aware that many Haitians have French names due to early colonization? There’s a little history lesson for you. Now, on to the business at hand, we had a peace treaty with you and the Refugee boys and you broke it.

  “You boarded my ship and stole my cargo. You abducted a load of my Colombian women and the problem is that you boys are making the Ramirez brothers look bad. You’ve got that nasty, little, human trafficking, low grade hustle going on.

  “I, on the other hand, run an establishment where my women come here by choice. My brother and I don’t have to lie, cheat, or steal the way that you low class, hood hustlers do.

  “Jean Philippe, are you aware that the most beautiful women in the world come from Colombia?

  “That boatload of cargo that you stole cost me a bundle. There’s also the fact that now I have to go and rescue all those women and then debrief them. Jean Philippe, I don’t treat my women like you low-lifers do. One more thing,” I growl as I jerk Jean Philippe’s head up by a handful of his greasy hair, “you owe me an apology. We had a peace treaty. Trying to team up with the Dominicans and breaking that treaty was just about the worst business move you Haitians could’ve made.”

  Jean Philippe moans out, “I’m sorry.”

  I direct my attention to Diego. “There is a quote I like, Diego, first said by a man named Niccolo Machiavelli. He said, ‘If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.’ ” I look at Diego and command, “Kill him. I don’t want him trying to exact vengeance later! I don’t want my future heirs having to deal with this dirt bag. Then go and get my women out of that dive they are in. I’ll have to debrief them now that those idiots have traumatized them.”

  I can see the pleasure on Diego’s face as he smiles, showing a gold tooth. He is ready to play. To his way of thinking, there is nothing like a bloodbath. He is a massive man, standing well over six foot five, and trained in every form of fighting known to man.

  Diego is my brother Ricardo’s special agent and he never would have let Diego go and pull a job for anybody else but me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roxanne

  A wave of trepidation washes over me as I sit at my make-up table and listen to my husband talking to me.

  “We have guests in the club tonight. I expect you to be on your best behavior. It will do you no good to try and confide in the woman who will be accompanying my guest. To put it bluntly, my love, Miller and Stormy are hired killers. I doubt she cares about your abduction or you being held against your will. You will find there are very few who have the audacity or courage to cross me. You would do well to just resign yourself to the fact that you are owned.”

  He turns in my direction and coldly eyes me with what looks like a mixture of indifference and a challenge to cross him. “Do I need to put a chip in you? Never mind, it’s settled. I will.”

  “I don’t need a fucking chip in me, Tony.”

  He bends down to lift my chin with a single finger and says, “You need what I say you need.”

  He kisses my forehead and strides from the room with an air of supreme confidence like he owns the world.

  I check him out as he leaves and I have to admit that he is one fine ass motherfucker. He is wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt, a silver tie, complete with tiepin, cufflinks, and designer Italian shoes. I never get tired of looking at the man, with his swarthy good looks. His coal black hair seems to have blue hues in the right lighting and just cries out for me to run my hands through it. His black eyes pierce right through me, seeing all of the good, bad, and ugly in me. I love how his tight, firm, larger-than-life frame towers over me when he is attempting to corner me in a darkened hallway. His full lips possess me at will and his hands play my body like an instrument. It all works together to captivate me in many more ways than one.

  A smile comes over my face as I hear Alexis’ heels click-clacking down the hallway and I see her wiggle and switch her way into the room. She is a big bundle of beauty, a live version of a Barbie doll, complete with long, blonde, corn silk hair that drapes down to the top of her ass, and eyes as blue as the ocean. I can understand why she makes so much money. It isn’t just her looks; it’s her ability to make the patron believe he is the only human in existence when she is in his presence. Her voice interrupts my admiration of her and pulls me from my thoughts.

  “Those bitches getting ready in the other room are getting on my damn nerves. They eat, drink, and sleep Antonio Wayne. They act like vultures. They’re waiting for him to get over being smitten with you and they are too damn stupid to know it’s never going to happen.”

  Once again, the familiar jealousy courses through me. I’m so fucked up in the head. I’m jealous over a man who abducted me. I have issues, for sure. What she says next doe
sn’t put my mind at ease.

  “We have guests tonight and talk about beautiful. Stormy is drop dead sexy.” She looks in the mirror and she must pick up on my insecurity because she continues speaking but puts my mind at ease. “You don’t need to worry, though. Can you keep a secret?” I quickly shake my head yes.

  “Well, the people who are coming are trained killers, hit men, or hit people in this case. Can you believe it? The woman, Stormy, works with the guy named Miller. He trained her and everything. Miller killed her ex-husband after the ex hired him to kill her. Then, he took her and trained her to work with him. It’s so exciting. It sounds like something from a movie, doesn’t it?”

  I listen as if I don’t already know what she is telling me. I just hate to take away her joy of being able to tell me a secret. I’ve gotten very attached to Alexis.

  “You know, Roxanne, you really don’t have to worry about Tony. The guy is head over heels in love with you. Plus, he has a thing for redheads.”

  “Alexis, Tony was a player before me. He could very well tire of me and move on.”

  Alexis’ laugh rings out as she speaks. “I have been here for seven years and I have never seen the man fall for any woman but you. That is never going to happen. Besides, you aren’t the type of woman a guy would tire of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you stay in trouble. You’re much too intriguing and too much of a challenge for him to get bored.”

  “Well, make me beautiful just in case,” I laugh.

  She continues to chatter about how she is glad that we will be the only ones being chauffeured with Tony to the club. The girl really doesn’t have much tolerance for any of the women here but me and I can’t help but wonder why that is. In the end, though, I’m just glad I have a true friend here.

  If you would have told me six months ago that I would be chauffeured around in a limo with bulletproof, tinted windows, I would have laughed. Needless to say, I’m not laughing now…