Anything He Wants: The Betrayal (#5) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Copyright

  Back Ad

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Copyright

  1

  “Am I about to die?” I whispered, heart in my throat.

  “That all depends on how quickly my little brother arrives.” A smooth hand crept up my torso to encircle my neck, pinning me back against his body. “Care to make any wagers?”

  I trembled in his arms, casting about for a weapon. Once upon a time, the boathouse had been occupied. Furniture, much of it half hidden by sheets, dotted the floor. At some point, however, the living space had been converted to storage, and numerous items dotted the dusty room, including several which were tied to the high ceilings. There was nothing close by for me to use, however. “Are you the one who’s trying to kill Jeremiah?” I asked, stalling for time.

  Lucas chuckled, the laugh shaking us both. “While I probably have better reason than most to wish for such a thing, I’m afraid I’m not your man.”

  Confused, I leaned my head back to look at him. Lucas was shorter than his stockier brother, such that my head lay atop his shoulder, but his grip was like iron. The man’s gaze was placid, and his lips curled up into a smile at my perusal. “Surprised? I may dislike my little brother, but I’m not interested in his death. Indeed, I’ve been doing everything in my power to prevent it.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  He laughed again, then dipped his lips close to my ear. “Maybe I missed you.”

  Butterflies exploded in my stomach. “Liar,” I muttered. Knowing he wasn’t going to kill me made me suddenly realize the intimacy of our position, and my body’s betrayal irritated me.

  “Most definitely.” His cheeky response made me roll my eyes. “Or perhaps I know who you’re looking for.”

  I twisted around to look at him. “You know who’s after Jeremiah?”

  “Perhaps,” he repeated, his smirk widening.

  My lips pursed in annoyance. Infuriating man. “They’re going to find us soon,” I said, glancing out the window. “You should let me go,” I cautioned, “people might get the wrong idea.”

  “If I know my little brother, they already know exactly where we are.” He motioned at the surrounding ceiling. “There’s more than likely a camera or three in the rafters above us, watching our every move.” Lucas kissed my cheek, and I flinched away in surprise. “Should we give them a show?”

  Irritated by his innuendo, I struggled again but was held fast. “If you had information, why not come through the front entrance like a sane man? Why do all of this hiding and sneaking?”

  “It’s more interesting this way. My brother can be anal about his security; it’s fun showing how easy it is to circumvent.” He shrugged. “Besides, my brother would be more likely to call the authorities than let me inside and hear what I have to say.”

  “Like he won’t do that now anyway,” I muttered, and Lucas gave a small chuckle. The boards beneath our feet began to quake, and the heavy thump of boots pounding against the boards outside the boathouse shook the old structure.

  Lucas merely adjusted his grip, shuffling me between himself and the entryway. “Showtime,” he replied, seemingly unconcerned, as the door into the boathouse crashed open. Guards poured in and surrounded the two of us, and my heart skipped a beat as guns were trained on us. I didn’t see Jeremiah among them, however, and a shard of disappointment lanced my heart. Lucas merely heaved a sigh. “Looks like Jeremiah’s no longer fighting his own fights,” the gunrunner added.

  The distinctive clicking noise of a handgun being cocked was easily recognizable, especially when it came from directly behind us. Lucas quickly let me go at the sound, hands lifting as I sprang away to see a gun being held against the sarcastic man’s head.

  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

  There was death in that voice as Jeremiah appeared behind Lucas, his eyes blazing with a savagery that took my breath away. The obvious height difference between the two men had never been more apparent; Jeremiah seemed to tower over his older brother, the muscles in his arm bulging against the business shirt he wore. The black gun was trained on Lucas’s temple, Jeremiah’s knuckles around the grip white with strain.

  I looked between the two men. Surely Jeremiah wouldn’t…Not his own brother…

  Lucas froze, hands up on either side of his head. “Familial loyalty?” Lucas answered lightly, his light words belying the strain I saw in his face. From the sound of his voice he might have been talking about the weather, but the eyes locked on me were bleak.

  “Not good enough.” Jeremiah pressed the gun harder against his brother’s temple, and Lucas closed his eyes.

  “No!” I blurted out, heart racing. I moved around until I was beside the two men. “He came to help us, Jeremiah. He knows who’s after you, don’t kill him!”

  The billionaire didn’t look at me but I saw the gun tremble against Lucas’s head. The bodyguards near the door lowered their own weapons but didn’t move to help, leaving the brothers alone. My throat froze, suddenly terrified what I was about to witness, then Jeremiah lowered his gun. He grabbed Lucas’s arm and twisted it behind the other man’s back, and only then did the bodyguards move in. “Take him to the house,” Jeremiah said, voice low and tight.

  The bodyguards took Lucas from Jeremiah, snapping a set of handcuffs around his wrists. The older brother didn’t put up a fight, seemingly content with the way things were going, but the guards still clustered around him as if he was dangerous. I moved to follow them when suddenly a hand grabbed my arm, bringing me up short. “Not so fast,” I heard Jeremiah growl.

  I thought that I had seen him angry before, but I’d never seen him like this. There was real fury in his eyes, directed at me, and I knew I had messed up royally. “Jeremiah,” I said, trying to apologize, only to cut myself short when I saw his free hand ball up into a fist.

  “Do you know what I’ve done to protect you?” Gone was the total control I had always seen, in its place was a ferocity that looked alien on his face. When I tried to move, the hand around my arm tightened and I tensed, stopping all movement.

  “The girl didn’t know I was here,” Lucas said from across the room. His rapt gaze watched our confrontation keenly. I became aware that the guards were also watching us, having paused in the doorway, but again made no move to help.

  “I said, take him to the house!” Jeremiah roared, and I watched in disappointment as the guards shuffled out through the door and back toward the house, leaving me alone with Jeremiah.

  I tried to stay calm, even though the heat I felt from him was overwhelming. When the door clicked closed he released my arm, but as I moved away he followed my retreat, stalking me across the room. My hip finally bumped up against a table, then I backed into a wall with no other means of escape. He towered over me, fists clenched at his side, and I tried to quell the sudden misgivings in my chest. “Jeremiah, I’m…”

  “Do you realize how much danger you’re in?” Jeremiah’s hands were
balled into fists but his arms remained at his side. A scowl twisted his face but he didn’t move a muscle to touch me. “Why did you leave the house?”

  “Because the assassin is after you, not me?” I hadn’t meant for the statement to be a question, and from the look on Jeremiah’s face it was the wrong answer anyway. “Look, I’m really sor—”

  I was pinned to the wall suddenly, the hands on my shoulders pressing me back against the wood. Squeaking in surprise, I turned wide eyes on Jeremiah and saw him blink, a small frown furrowing his brow. The anger was still in his voice however as he said, “You saw his face at the hotel. Do you have any idea what that means to a man who lives his life in the shadows?”

  I’m sorry, I wanted to say, but Jeremiah’s dark look quelled my courage to speak. The hands on my shoulders trembled, Jeremiah’s beautiful face contorting in his struggle for control. He bowed his head, and to my surprise laid his forehead against mine.

  “You could have been killed,” he rasped, the words piercing my heart. “I’ve done everything I can to keep you safe, gone to people I swore I’d never contact again—all for you. Why did you leave the house?”

  Heart twisting, I raised my hand to cup his face but he lifted his head, turning a suspicious gaze on me. “Did you know my brother was here?”

  I drew back, stung by the accusation. “Of course I didn’t.” Frustration bubbled up at his disbelieving look. “I don’t know anything about what’s going on, thanks to you,” I snapped, glaring at him. I slapped his chest in frustration, the movement doing little to make him retreat. “How would I even get information like that while under constant surveillance? You lock me away in that house, guards watching my every move. You don’t tell me anything you’re doing, lecture me about staying safe without telling me anything, and expect me to go meekly along with it—”

  “Goddammit,” Jeremiah roared, startling me into silence, “I can’t have your death on my hands!” Wild desperation played across his face as his hands left my shoulders, framing my face without touching my skin. “I promised I would keep you safe, then you go and pull something like this.”

  I watched in wonder as a myriad of emotions played across his face. Despite learning to read his normally subtle body language and limited expressions, the sudden passion on his face struck me dumb. His own battle for control was obvious; he reached out to caress my neck, then checked himself, as if afraid to touch me. “My family destroys anyone outsiders who get too close; I’ve watched it happen to my mother, Anya, and countless others.” He swallowed. “Maybe I don’t deserve happiness, but you do, and I’ll get you through this.” One finger caressed my cheek. “I’m not a good man,” he murmured, staring at his hand fisted near my chest. “I should never have brought you into this. I almost got you killed, and now I need to see you safe.”

  The pain in his eyes, revealing emotions that were always kept bottled inside, made tears spring to my eyes. I tried to touch his face again but grabbed my wrist, holding it beside my head. “You can’t do this again,” he ground out. “We don’t know who is after us or what means he has available to get close.”

  My heart shattered into a million little pieces. Trembling, I searched for a way to show my remorse. “I’m sorry for leaving the house.”

  “Sorry isn’t good eno…” Jeremiah retorted angrily, then stopped as I lowered myself to my knees. He released my wrist and stepped back, everything about him going still as he stared down at me. “What are you doing?” he finally said.

  I’d never felt so helpless in my life, sitting there at his feet. I had no idea how he’d react, but somehow I knew he needed to be in control, the emotions coursing through him too much to process. “Asking for forgiveness.” I swallowed, then added, “Sir.”

  The remaining wildness in his face drained away but he still hesitated. I stared at his feet, no longer having the courage to watch his face. He still wore the expensive business pants but instead of the dress shoes to which I’d grown accustomed, he wore a pair of rugged black boots. I wondered if they were the same ones he’d used while in the Army, but didn’t feel that moment was the right time to ask.

  The silence stretched, making me nervous. I stayed where I was, praying I hadn’t made the wrong move. My biggest fear was his rejection, so relief shot through me when he finally said, “Stand up and raise your hands over your head.”

  Swallowing again, I did as he ordered, my eyes moving toward the ceiling. A line of rope hung down from a large roll of cloth above me, likely an old sail, and my heart skipped a beat as Jeremiah wrapped the rope around my wrists. “Hold still,” he said, then fished around until he found a small piece of cloth nearby. He snapped it once to remove debris, the sound making me jump, then tied it around my head to cover my eyes. The world plunged to black, and when he tightened the rope above so it lifted me to my tiptoes, I gave a small gasp.

  “So, you want to be punished.”

  I whimpered, heart racing, but didn’t negate his question. Despite the heavy boots, he was surprisingly silent on his feet; I cast my head around blindly, trying to find him, then started as I felt his breath on my neck. “What should it be?” he murmured, fingers sliding along my raised arm. “Should I spank you for your disobedience? Whip you? What kind of punishment would teach you not to court death?”

  My mouth worked silently but I didn’t respond. Somehow, given his current state, I doubt he’d be gentle with me in this situation. I remembered the flogger he used on me the previous night and, despite the current situation, felt an answering heat unfurl in my belly. Now is not the time for this!

  “Perhaps a different form of punishment is required.” His hand left my arm and unsnapped my pants with deft fingers. They dropped to my feet as he grabbed one leg behind the knee, lifting it high and to the side until I was balancing on one foot, holding the rope around my wrists for support. My face flushed, realizing how I had to look exposed like this. All the underwear I had was of the sexy variety, something I secretly appreciated but that make unexpected moments like this awkward.

  A finger slid across my panties and I jerked against my bonds in surprise. “You’re wet,” he said, his tone such that I couldn’t tell what he was thinking and longed to see his face. He let go of my leg, then hooked his thumbs around the band of my panties and slid them down to my ankles. My face burned as he undid the buttons of my shirt, pulling it open to reveal my torso. Rough hands skirted the edge of my bra, then slid beneath the thin material as he spoke. “Perhaps nipple clamps, they can be painful. Is that punishment enough for you risking your life?”

  Fingers wrapped around my nipples and I tensed, waiting for the pain, but he only fondled them a bit then let go, leaving the bra displaced and my breasts exposed. A perverse disappointment jolted through me and I stifled a sigh. I don’t like pain, I thought, but the avowal seemed weak even in my mind.

  The rope jerked up again, until only the tips of my toes scraped the ground. Muscles stretched in my arms and my wrists burned, but I clamped my lips together and kept silent. I thought I heard the whisper of footsteps behind me as another hand smoothed over my backside. “Should I take you anally? You seemed to enjoy it yesterday but unprepared it can be very painful. Is that punishment enough for playing fast and loose with your life?”

  A hand cracked against one cheek and I flinched, the movement swinging me around. I scrambled for purchase, my panties falling to the ground as Jeremiah disappeared again but I couldn’t stop the slow twirl of the rope. Another spank across the same cheek made me spin faster, butt burning.

  “Should I use my belt on you?” he asked, voice tight again. The sound of a buckle being loosened came from nearby. “Would that keep you from any more foolhardy attempts like this? Answer me!”

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, earnestly meaning the words and not just because of his threats. I remembered the desperation on his face, the loss of control when I was in danger, and my throat tightened. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re s
orry, what?”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  Hurting you. The pain on his face, the rage when he’d confronted his brother, the surge of emotion, was what I regretted most. I knew, however, that wasn’t the answer he wanted. “For disobeying you and putting myself at risk.” At the last minute I barely remembered to add, “Sir.”

  Hands grabbed my hips and hauled me forward against a hard body, knee moving in between my knees. Taken by surprise, I instinctively opened my legs and was hauled up until I was straddling hips. I felt a moment of probing against my naked core, then he plunged inside and I gasped.

  “I promise you,” he growled, punctuating every other word with a thrust of his hips, “you’ll feel every one of those punishments if you ever do this again.”

  I tightened my legs around him as one big hand moved to my back, holding me still as he rammed into me. The sheer power of each deep stab bounced me into the air; there was little pain, but because my body had been preparing for a much harsher punishment, every nerve ending was alive and on fire. His hands dropped to my backside, squeezing and parting the twin globes for deeper access, and I exploded. The orgasm took me by surprise, my body bucking and twisting as he continued his assault.

  Our movements had dislodged the cloth over my eyes and, panting, I looked down to see Jeremiah watching me, his face strained by his own desire. The raw hunger in his eyes seemed more than just sexual, and the sight stabbed through my heart. I wanted to kiss him, caress his beautiful face, but the bonds held me aloft, keeping me from giving him any comfort. Maybe this is my punishment, I wondered, feeling the loss keenly in my gut. How oddly appropriate. Then he shuddered beneath me and the moment passed, and we both took a moment to come down from that stunning high.

  Holding me tight against his body, he reached up and effortlessly untied the knot from around my wrists. My limbs felt boneless as he set me on my feet. I wobbled, bare feet scraping against the wood floor. His grip was gentle, so different than only a moment before when everything had been quick and rough, but as soon as I was steady he let me go and stepped away. “Get your clothes on and I’ll take you back to the house.”