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“You need to lay low, Sire.”
Phone to his ear, Sire lifted his whip and flicked it lazily over the pale, naked rear in front of him. His newest acquisition—as yet unnumbered and likely to remain so—was unequivocally the most useless of any of his numbers throughout his history.
Simpering, begging, whimpering…the pathetic cunt couldn’t breathe without making some sort of noise. His patience was dwindling with the bitch, but to his disgust, even his cock was deterred by the incessant whining.
“Since when do I lay low? In the twenty years you’ve known me, when have I ever shown cowardice?”
“It’s not cowardice to protect yourself.” The voice on the other end emanated with frustration. “That stupid mute bitch disobeyed you and blabbed her mouth to the fucking feds. The feds, Sire. Not to some Podunk PD cop, but to the fucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
Seated comfortably beside the fire, Sire snapped the frond of his whip up between the sniveling brunette’s thighs so it connected with her pussy. The resulting crack was satisfying, as was her shocked leap. Her mewling wail, however, spoiled any enjoyment he might have gained from her discomfort. “I’m aware of the FBI and their involvement, boy. They’ll run around after the scent I’ve left them for a few more weeks yet. Ample time to send them in the wrong direction and finalize the trap I’ve set around my little songbird.”
He cracked the whip again, drawing blood along the girl’s spine. His teeth ground together when she squeaked. How difficult was it to follow a goddamn order, particularly when he added threats to ensure obedience? “We’ll see how well she wants to sing when she’s back here with me, her tongue dancing alone on the floor.”
“I can kill her now. I have an inside contact with the feds, an admin willing to destroy vital parts of the evidence gathered on the case, for a fee. Without the evidence, without her and that flapping mouth, they’ll have nothing. We can relocate; Montana’s too fucking cold in winter.”
Sire considered it. Only for a moment out of respect for his protégé, but a moment only. He liked his house, the privacy. No neighbors for miles. Lost in the trees with only a well-concealed dirt track for access, his property had been removed from ordinance maps.
No one knew he was there. No one would.
“Leave her. I’ll take her when the time is right. Let her get comfortable with this doctor. Rebuild her life, enjoy it. Remember her past, if she can.” His chuckle was dark. “So much sweeter it will be when I whisk her away from it all and drag her back into the dark.”
When the brunette sobbed, Sire sighed and rose, and snapped her neck.
Chapter Thirteen
Daddy was still sleeping.
Jenna narrowed her eyes at him and wondered how long he’d sleep. It was early, the light was dim and she was an expert on gauging time by light—in Sire’s regime, she’d have already been up and hauled to the house to clean and light the fire, fix Sire his breakfast, and be ready to rush upstairs and make his bed as soon as he was in the bathroom.
Now, she was ready to go find her present from Cain.
Adult Jenna stirred and admonished the child. Connor had not given her permission to be nosy, had he? Well, no, but he hadn’t said shecouldn’t, either. As long as she was quiet, didn’t wake him, he wouldn’t be mad.
He did look tired, she admitted. Dark circles under his eyes, the thin covering of stubble over his lean face. She’d liked the thicker stubble he’d come back with from his trip with Cain. Soft but prickly.
No, she would be extra quiet. So quiet even the mice wouldn’t hear her. Super-duper quiet, like a ninja mouse. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, then froze when Connor groaned and rolled onto his side, facing away from her.
The woman eased the reins away from the wired child and ushered her back into seclusion with a sigh. It was easier to let the little run free and cause havoc, but the mature side of her realized Connor was in fact exhausted.
Jenna managed to get out of bed slowly enough she didn’t disturb Connor, then stared down at the sheer pinkness of the pajamas. She wasn’t keen on the feel of them after so many months living naked—she preferred the light, cool weight of her stolen shirt.
She left Moose on her pillow and tottered into the bathroom to take care of her full bladder. Stupid bladder, she thought sourly, recalling the accidents from the week before. Always primed and ready to embarrass her.
She stripped out of the PJs, folded them neatly and set them on the towel rack. Her shirt was much better, she just needed to find it. Naked, she tiptoed back into the room to hunt for her prize but couldn’t see it anywhere. Biting her bottom lip, she appropriated another from the drawer.
Dressed, she made her way downstairs into the cool quiet. A quick stop for juice, and she walked into the living room, prepared to watch something on Netflix for a few hours until Connor woke of his own volition.
The man sleeping on the couch caught her attention first. Broad, muscled, Cain resembled a starfish, limbs stretched out from a golden body similar to the one she’d left in bed. Broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs encased in jeans open at the button and fly.
She frowned disapprovingly at the beer bottles scattered over the carpet, wrinkled her nose at the stale smell. This wouldn’t do, this wouldn’t do at all.
She bent to set her juice on the table and pick up the spent bottles when movement caught her eye. Straightening, she dropped the bottle in her hand with a gentle thud and stared at the TV screen.
Heat struck her between the thighs, blossomed warm in her center. Dumbfounded, she simply stood with shaking knees, unable to tear her gaze away from the performance playing out between a man and a woman.
Thank God she’d taken over from the child, she thought numbly. She dreaded to think what sort of questions the little girl would’ve come up with—Jenna could think of several herself.
Like what thefluffwas that man doing with his head between the woman’s—oh. Oh. Her knees gave out and she sat on the floor, mouth open, eyes transfixed on the TV.
