Joanna Wylde: Be Careful What You Wish For

She nodded her head, her gaze darting toward the diner. Why didn’t anyone see her? Sure, it was dark and wet, but they were right in the middle of the street. Didn’t they realize she needed help?

“Look at me,” he said. “Convince me that you understand.”

She turned her eyes toward him, getting a good look at the man for the first time. Pale blue eyes met her gaze, so pale they seemed unnatural. Witch eyes , she thought, shuddering. They bore through her without a trace of warmth, two orbs of ice penetrating her soul.

“Are you going to make any noise?” he asked slowly.

She shook her head as well as she could, meaning it. She had no doubt that he’d kill her if she didn’t obey. Not that he’d enjoy it, she thought. Killing her would be no more than swatting a fly to him. He wouldn’t think twice about it.

“You keep quiet and stay next to me,” he said. “If we run into anyone, you agree with everything I say.”

She nodded, and then he leaned up on one arm. The movement pushed his hips down into her, and to her horror she felt something press against her. That same bulge she’d seen before, only much bigger. He wanted her.

Her startled gaze flew to his face again.

“If you’re good, I’ll keep you around for a while,” he said slowly. “You might have all kinds of uses.”

With that he let her go, pushing himself to his feet and then pulling her up roughly beside him. He grabbed her upper arm and marched her down the street toward Edgar’s office. As they walked, a van pulled up next to them, and for one shining moment hope filled her heart. Then the door slid open, and a black man with eyes as dead as her captor’s looked at them.

“Who the hell is she?” he asked.

“She’s my new toy,” the man said. “She fucked up my little visit with Eddie-boy, and now she’s seen too much.”

“Why is she still alive?” the man asked as casually as if they were discussing a sick plant. “Valzar isn’t going to like this.”

“Why do you think she’s still alive? Look at her,” Sean replied, jerking his head in the general direction of her breasts. “I could use the services of a pro right now, and she’s feeling motivated to stay alive. We’ll work something out.”

The man shrugged, apparently indifferent to her fate.

“So long as she can’t ID us when this is all over,” he said. “Oh, we got Edgar for you. He’s in a dumpster about a block the other direction.”

“Thanks.”

Sean pushed her into the van and hopped up after her. She lurched against the other man, and he pushed her back into a seat. His touch held no kindness.

“Let’s go,” Sean said, thumping the back of the seat before him. The van swerved out into the street, tires squealing across the wet pavement. Sandra sank back into to the seat, wishing with all her might that Sean and his friends had gotten to Edgar long before she’d ever heard of the asshole.

Sean collapsed on the seat next to the hooker. He was exhausted, soaked and had missed out on getting personal revenge against the man he hated more than anyone on earth. He’d waited years for that revenge. It was revenge for his fallen men, too, although they would never know about it. They had died to feed Williams’ greed, along with the hostage they were trying to rescue.

Now he wanted to howl, to punch out with his fists and kill. He forced the feelings back, maintaining his frozen exterior. He had to stay calm, had to escape. Because of her, he’d lost the chance to kill Williams.

He wanted to hate her, but she smelled too good, even wet and muddy. It had been five years, two months, and ten days since he’d touched a woman.

He wanted desperately to touch this one.

His old friend Del sat in the seat next to them, carefully ignoring their guest. His silence spoke volumes.

She was a liability; she could link all of them to Williams. He should have killed her.

Del was right, of course. She was a liability. He really couldn’t afford to let her live, but he’d be damned if he wanted to kill her just yet. Or at all, really. A pro like her would understand, they would come to an arrangement, he told himself. Hell, she might like South America. He sure did.

He reached between his legs, adjusting his pants to a more comfortable position. His cock throbbed. He could almost feel her squirming beneath him on the ground, feel her soft breasts pushing against his chest as she gasped for air. Her belly had given way to him so easily, and he knew instinctively that her legs would have cradled him to perfection. She was a whore—she knew how to touch a man in all the right places. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

She shivered beside him. Probably cold, he thought, and scared. Sean wrapped one arm around her shoulder, pulling her stiff body against his. She didn’t want to be touched—he could feel the fear radiating from her. But she was so soft and small next to him, like a little rabbit. He wanted to squeeze her. Sean lifted her onto his lap, pulling her head to his chest.

“We’ll work something out,” he repeated softly, trying to calm her fears.

Beside him Del gave a snort of disgust.

“You can sit up front if you like,” Sean said, giving Del a pointed look. Del shook his head slowly, but leveraged his large frame up. He stood, bracing himself against the seatbacks as he moved forward and dropped down into the broad passenger-side chair.

Sean ignored him, turning back to his newfound treasure instead.

Her little ass was tight and warm against him, and he could feel himself swelling even larger. He closed his eyes, and his hands clutched her body almost spasmodically. Hot. Female. His.

She moaned and gave a whimper of protest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be a better customer than Edgar Williams,” he said, not wanting to think about those fat hands touching her. It was better to imagine she wasn’t a whore, that she was his woman, and he could do whatever he wanted with her. Of course, he could do whatever he wanted with her, he reflected, so long as he paid her enough. Once upon a time, the thought might have bothered him, perhaps even disgusted him.

Now it just made him harder.

He knew they’d arrive at the airstrip soon, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to touch her. He grasped her small waist, lifting her and repositioning her so that she straddled his lap, facing him. He lifted his hips, pressing his erection up into the juncture of her thighs.

Damn, that was good.

She moaned once more, and he opened his eyes to look at her face.

Her eyes were large and brown in her face, pixie eyes, he thought with bitter bemusement. Not the kind of eyes you should find on a working girl. She had pale skin with a smattering of freckles across her nose, and she bit her lip nervously as she searched his face. The gesture drew his attention to her lips, and he studied them thoughtfully. They were full, slightly chapped. He imagined kissing them, knowing full well she’d probably bite him if he tried. At least he hoped she would. He liked a woman with a little spark.

She didn’t seem to have much fight left in her at the moment, but she’d sure given him a run for his money earlier. He’d actually thought for a moment that she might get away from him.

He wondered what she was thinking, and then decided he didn’t care. She was sexy as hell. He looked lower, and realized that if they had more light he’d probably be able to see right through her wet shirt. As it was, he could see the faint outline of her bra. It must be black, he realized, to stand out like that. He closed his eyes, imagining her rounded, pouty breasts draped in wisps of black lace. He groaned and rocked her forward over his cock.