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I turn to Declan, but before I can speak his phone buzzes. He pulls it out, and his forehead furrows. "It’s Cade," he tells Rick before putting it on speaker.
"Is Rick with you?" Cade’s face appears on the phone
"I’m here." Rick walks over to stand behind Declan.
"You have news of Knight?"
Cade’s features are serious. "They think they’ve got a lead on him."
"They?" Rick asks.
"The combined forces of JJ, Michael and Sinclair. They set up a task force focused on tracking down his whereabouts, and they think they’ve come up with a lead."
"Where is he?"
"It’s confidential. I can’t reveal that over the phone, but they’re waiting to confirm the veracity of the lead."
"So, he’s alive?" Declan lowers his chin to his chest. Worry is reflected in his eyes. His jaw tics in that familiar fashion that tells me he’s stressed.
"They think so.” Cade rubs the back of his neck. “The need to get to him sooner than not, else the impact on his psyche of being a prisoner of the enemy for so long is going to be catastrophic.”
"Fuck!" Both Declan and Rick swear aloud.
"They’re putting together an extraction team as we speak."
"I want to be in on it," Rick intervenes.
"It’s not your specialty. The team will consist of highly-trained people who’ve delivered on challenging missions in the past."
Rick straightens. "I need to do something."
"You two be ready for when Knight is back. He’ll need all our support."
"I’ll do anything for him, you know that," Declan growls. "But Cade’s right. We need to leave this to the experts to increase the chances of his getting out alive. Also, I need you here, Rick."
Rick hesitates.
"I know this is not exactly the kind of gig you anticipated when you were discharged from the military, but I'm counting on you to keep us both safe."
Rick rolls his shoulders. "You’re blowing smoke up my arse, Pretty Boy."
Declan winces at the nickname, but before he can reply, I pipe up, "He’s not. We do need you. Wait until news of the two of us gets out; it’s going to be mayhem."
57
Declan
"It’s fucking mayhem." I glance toward the doorway of the bookstore where we’ve spent the last half an hour.
We spent the night in different rooms. I didn’t insist she move in with me, which she seemed to be relieved about. Which, in turn, pissed me off further, for reasons I don’t want to analyze. When I walked into her room, it was to find her standing with her back to the mirror over the vanity table. She’d stripped off her clothes and was peering at herself over her shoulder.
The sight of the rabbit-shaped emerald glittering from between her arse cheeks, once again, turned my knees to jelly. A spurt of heat shuddered up my spine. I’ll never get over how erotic and forbidden and right it felt. To have her wear my mark on her,in her,makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world.
I walked over to stand in front of her. Our eyes met in the mirror. Her pupils dilated instantly, and her breath grew choppy. I slipped my arms about her, then slid my hand down to ease out the butt plug. Her knees buckled, and I held her close, supporting her weight. She turned her face into my chest and inhaled deeply, as if storing my scent. When she seemed more stable, I kissed her forehead, and though it hurt like hell to leave her there, aroused and wanting—I swear, I all but came in my pants as I held her soft body so close—I forced myself to leave.
We met for breakfast, which I served her. I made sure she ate everything on her plate, then I’d slipped the plug back between her arse cheeks and guided her out of the house.
In the first of our agreed-upon sightings by the press, I decided to take her back to the bookstore I bought for her and which I refuse to sell, despite the fact I could do with the extra money to put into the film. It's more important to have a place where she can go if she wants to buy her smutty books, anywhere in the world. Besides, the beneficiary of all the knowledge she gleans from the spicy books is me, so I can hardly complain.
