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“I can echo each place on the other side of her body if you think six would be better.”
“Six is definitely overkill.” Dimi chuckles.
“And three isn’t?” I ask, hating that I’m the only one who seems to be feeling guilty about what we’re doing to her.
“We agreed that she needed to be tagged,” Vik says, ever the pragmatic asshole.
“She’s going to fucking hate us.” I sigh.
“She’s going to hate us whether we tag her or not,” Dimi says quietly, his brows furrowed together.
The truth of his words seems to settle over all of us, and the silence that surrounds us feels stifling. Setting the box on the table, Vik kneels down on the floor beside Alabama, then turns and opens the kit. Pulling latex gloves onto his hands, he loads a tracking chip about the same size as a grain of rice into the insertion device. Looking up, he nods to Dimi, who moves behind the sofa and carefully unwraps her, exposing her neck first.
Wiping the place he plans to inject her with an alcohol wipe, Vik pinches the skin, then pushes the needle into her neck, depressing the plunger until the tracker is buried deep.
Watching him check his cell to make sure the tracker is working is both a relief and a kick in the gut. When he’s content it’s okay, he nods to Dimi again and he rolls her forward until she’s almost chest down on the sofa. Repeating the process, he inserts a second tracker into the skin at the base of her spine.
After he checks that one on the app, he nods to Dimi again and it feels like all of us hold our breath when he slowly lifts her shirt revealing smooth, creamy skin. She’s not wearing a bra, but that’s not a surprise, she rarely wears one. But having her here, close enough to touch and knowing there’s nothing but a scrap of fabric between us and her perfect fucking tits is almost more temptation than I can handle.
This time when Vik moves, his touch seems lighter, reverent even, as he wipes the skin at the base of her shoulder blade, then carefully inserts the third tracker into her.
No one speaks as Dimi covers her up, then carefully rolls her back to her side and tucks the blanket around her again. Something about knowing she’s tagged and that she’ll never be free of us, feels both settling and agitating at the same time.
“We don’t tell her,” Vik growls, his brows furrowed, his gaze firmly fixed on her unconscious body.
“What?” I ask.
“We don’t tell her about the trackers. She doesn’t need to know, and unless she tries to run, or someone takes her from us, we’ll never need to use them.”
Nodding slowly, I consider that idea. It’ll be one less thing for her to hate us for. And Vik’s right, if she doesn’t run, then we’ll never have to use them. Nodding more vigorously I smile. “She never has to know.”
“Unless she runs,” Dimi murmurs, his voice even more gruff than before.
“She won’t run. She can’t run.” Vik shrugs, his body relaxed.
“We won’t let her run,” I snap, looking at each of my brothers in turn. When they nod back, it’s like we’re forming an agreement. Now we have her, we won’t ever let her go.
CHAPTER 6
vik
She doesn’t stir the entire flight home, but Lev still watches her like he expects her to jump up and make a break for it, or like she’s going to stop breathing. He’s spent more time stalking her than Dimi or I have, so I guess he’s a little more obsessed than we are. But that doesn’t make her any more his than ours.
Lev might have been the one trailing her to work and back, but I was the one who was always watching. I’m the one who planted cameras in her apartment and the bar she worked at. Since she reappeared a little over a year ago, there hasn’t been a moment when we haven’t had eyes on her.
I like women, they’re fun to play with, nice to fuck, and then even better to leave. But Ali isn’t like that. I expected to have gotten bored of her by now but, if anything, I’m more intrigued after a full year than I was the day I planted the camera in the vent in her bedroom and the bathroom she shared with that bitch Monica.
I doubt Ali would have called her roommate a friend, but it hadn’t taken anything but the offer of a place at her school of choice to have Monica jumping at the chance to royally screw Ali over. She was the one who told us about the tin of cash Ali kept beneath her mattress. We already knew, of course, but if she’d have kept her mouth shut, she could have left knowing that Ali at least had a chance at survival. Instead, she cried crocodile tears as she walked out, without even trying to warn Ali about the powerful men who were about to ruin her life.
My fingers are still buzzing with excitement from touching her. Pushing that needle into her skin, and knowing that no matter what happens, she’ll never be free of us; was exhilarating. Watching Dimi lift her top, knowing that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that we could have just rolled her over and had a perfect uninterrupted view of her sweet tits, made my dick so hard I almost came in my pants.
But I don’t want the first time I touch her like that to be when she’s unconscious. I want to see the fear and excitement in her eyes when she offers herself to me. I want her to know exactly who’s touching her, I want her to want it.
She’s going to be pissed when she realizes we’ve taken her. But once we explain why, I think she’ll be okay; and eventually even appreciative of us saving her. My dick is excited to see her grateful. In my mind, I picture her on her hands and knees crawling to me, ass plugged, eyes begging me to own her.
“Can I get you anything else?” the annoying stewardess asks, eyeing me flirtatiously.
“No,” I growl, dropping off my seat and crawling over to Ali, stroking her hair behind her ear as I press a soft kiss against her lips. This isn’t the first time I’ve visited her when she was asleep. Dimi and Lev don’t know, but sometimes I’d tell them there was a problem with the cameras, then sneak into her room, just to be close to her.
