In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(95)

She was a shaking mess afterward. Her nightgown twisted up around her ribs. Fighting for breath beneath his weight.

He lifted himself up, out of her body. She couldn’t even move. She felt flattened. In every way. On every level.

“I’m good to go, then,” he said. “I got my morning treat. A quick shower, and I’ll be ready to do your bidding once again.”

“Fuck you,” she said, shakily. “You’re punishing me with sex.”

“You call that punishment? The way you came? Let’s keep it real simple. A time-honored arrangement any guy can understand, even a bonehead like me. I do what you tell me to do, and you let me f*ck you.”

“You’re trying to make me feel cheap,” she whispered.

Sam laughed harshly. “Who’s making who feel cheap? You’d already be my bride, if I had my way. But I don’t get my way, Sveti. I just get a treat tossed to me, now and then.”

“So this is your strategy now? Fucking me into submission?”

“No, my strategy is to f*ck you into screaming orgasms.”

“I don’t feel the difference!” she snapped. “This domination kick you’re on makes me nervous. Scale it back. Or we’ll have problems.”

“But you like it that way,” he observed. “From the very first, we’ve played with that vibe. It makes you explode. And I think it makes you feel . . .” His voice trailed off, eyes narrow, as if he were afraid to say it.

She sat up. “What? Makes me feel what? Spit it out!”

He shrugged, still hesitating. “Safe,” he said finally, his voice low.

She stared, aghast. “Safe? Sam! Are you crazy?”

He shook his head. “You slept nine hours last night, Sveti. Nine, with no nightmares. Yuri didn’t come to you.”

She shook her head frantically. “No, Sam. You’ve got the wrong idea about me. You’re going down a dangerous path.”

“Those are the only paths you tread, baby. I’m just following after you.” His gaze was steely. “You’re not having breakfast with Hazlett, today or any day. Put it out of your head. Simone will be here soon with more hardware for me, so I’ll take the first shower.”

He strode into the bathroom. The shower began to hiss.

Sveti dragged herself up into a sitting position, limbs still weak and shaking. She stared at the bathroom door, appalled at where this was going. Where it had already gone. Over the line. Barreling onward.

She hugged herself, shivering. Wondering if she’d somehow invited him to morph like that, with her unconscious longing for someone strong to take charge, tell her what to do. Keep her safe.

It didn’t matter, in the end. Maybe it happened because of the way she responded to him in bed. Maybe it would have happened no matter what she did. Either way, it was not acceptable.

She might love his fierce, conquering vibe in their sex play, but she had struggled through dark places, and come a long way up to the light. She’d attained a sense of power, autonomy, choice. It was very hard won, and no one was taking it away from her. Never again.

Sam was out of the shower before she’d finished formulating her thought. He marched around the room naked. Yanked his clothes on without looking at her, dragged his fingers through his wet, tangled mane of hair. His phone rang as he was shoving his feet into his shoes.

He grabbed it. “Si?” He listened. Said something terse in Italian. “Simone is on his way up,” he said to her. “Don’t leave this room.”

With that, he strode into the salone and shut the door.

So. The little woman was dismissed. Not a thought of inviting her into the meeting, or asking if she wanted a firearm, too. It just didn’t occur to him, and why would it, the way she shivered and sighed, begging to be ravished. Fuck that. No more.

She hurried into the shower. Threw on a white linen dress, a pair of sandals. Her phone beeped as she was brushing her hair.



Breakfast on the terrace with Renato and me at Villa Rosalba?

Short drive—a half hour at most.

Rocco and Silvano waiting for you downstairs.

Yours hopefully. M.





She felt almost faint, at the momentous choice that text message posed. She opened the connecting door just a crack. Sam was conducting a lively conversation in Italian with Val’s guy, Simone, over a table covered with guns of various shapes and calibers. They were talking shop, and would probably be at it for a while.

She didn’t have the energy to face him down about this. And a massive power struggle with Sam was a poor use of her energy in any case. She texted Hazlett:



Coming.





Seconds later, her phone burped.



Excellent! A presto.





It was the architecture of the old baroque palazzo that made it possible to leave discreetly. Connecting doors were everywhere, and in the back of the bedroom was a door that communicated with what was probably a servant’s stairway. Locked, of course, but from the inside. She scribbled a quick note to Sam.



Going to Villa Rosalba. Accompanied by Illuxit Security. Don’t worry.





She left it on the crumpled bed and hurried down the narrow, dingy back stairway.

Outside the lobby, a limousine idled. Silvano leaned against it. He opened the car door for her.