

Fatal Fugue

The Deadlier Sex Series

Book One

By

Maelani

Blurb:

I was a monster once.

At least, that's what people say.

They all know who I am. The horrible things I've done.

Even if I don't remember, they know.

Jay is a fierce hunter—handsome, mysterious, deadly, and he knows all about me—at least he says he does. He knows the reason I'm here in Texas watching a house burn, a dead man inside of it. The empire I built in Vegas, full of violence, sex, and money.

So. Much. Money. So much to die for. So much to kill for...

He says he wants to help me. He says he knows me.

But I don't even know myself.

I need to stay alive long enough to find out what happened to me, but there are those who'd rather stuff my body six feet under faster than a one-night stand. I need to get back to Vegas. Now.

The ones who want me dead are waiting and there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

And no one to trust. Not even Jay.

Fatal Fugue

(The Deadlier Sex #1)

©January 2016 by Maelani Reese & Nataleigh Sharp

All rights reserved

Published by

Cover Design by MelancholyMuse

Photography Depositphoto

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

About the Author

Chapter One

"Dammit," Hayley whispered, "just dammit!"

She stood over the body, staring down with sheer horror. He's dead! Shit, shit, shit! was all she could think. The fucker was dead, and there was no mistaking it. The man at her feet had once been beautiful, hot even, she thought. His bare chest was packed with muscle, and his exposed abdomen was tight and rippling with a hard eight-pack. Her fingers dripped a thick scarlet substance that landed on the stone floor next to his face. His jaw was a sculpted masterpiece, and covered by a fine layer of stubble. Dark, disheveled hair danced over the tan skin of his face. His still, grey eyes stared up at nothing and told her there was no more life left in him. That, and the three-foot piece of twisted, jagged steel jutting out from under his rib cage. The half-inch thick pool of blood beneath him was another giveaway.

Hayley took in every detail carefully, desperately trying to coax her mind into processing the information. She was close to overload and didn't know what to do next. The man's naked torso ended in a pair of very faded blue jeans. They were unbuttoned, giving her the clue she needed that this was no ordinary encounter. They should've been buttoned all the way up to the fly where an ornate belt buckle connected a thick leather belt, but they weren't. The cuffs lay limp against a pair of black leather motorcycle boots. Not that she was an expert on boots, but she saw the telltale orange bar-and-shield logo denoting Harley-Davidson emblazoned on the side of them.

One of his hands was still gripping a short length of black nylon cord, maybe thirty inches of it, she thought. The other hand lay open and limp against the dark grey stone. Stone. Where was she anyway?

"Fuck!" she cursed and kicked the man in the thigh. This was a rude awakening if anything and there was no way in hell the guy had any good intentions with the way things appeared. Nevertheless, no one deserved to die. Right?

Hayley's feet were bare, and she registered the cold of the ground beneath them. She glanced around her. It was dark but not entirely. She was in a long chamber of some sort, made out of carved stone. Am I in a cave? She slowly took inventory of her own person.

On her bare legs she could see deep red marks on her calves and thighs, fresh bruises from something, but what? Her bare thighs came together in a pair of polka-dotted boy-short panties that rode up high onto her thin hips and waist. She was near naked, and a sticky, almost stiff black camisole covered her torso, reminding her that it was cold down here. She began shivering and lifted her left hand to pinch a bit of the black fabric. Her fingers stuck to it for a moment reminding her of the way a sticky jar of jam felt. Those fingers came away covered with a tacky, dark red substance. She lifted her right hand in front of her eyes, feeling faint yet strangely calm.

This is a real problem, she thought.

A dull, fiery ache radiating up her right arm made her look down to find it also drenched in congealing blood. She spread open her palm, revealing a deep, angry gash along the length of her forearm and into her hand. She couldn't see the bone but knew this wound would require medical attention. The laceration oozed blood but could not account for all of the dark stain covering her arm. She'd have to wrap it with something clean and sew it up herself.

Nervously, she squatted down near the slain man to examine the piece of metal protruding from his abdomen without touching it. It was a roughly t-shaped piece of steel, and to Hayley it looked like something that might be used in the walls of a big building. Only this metal was twisted and serrated and sharpened. The edges looked like they had been torn from a larger piece, leaving this lethal length behind. Hayley studied the gash on her palm with a queasiness building in her stomach. She reached her shaking, bloody hand out and placed it over the sharp metal, then jerked it back.

"Oh, shit," she murmured, her breaths starting to quicken. The wound on her hand matched the sharp edge of the metal spear perfectly. She had stabbed this man.

I killed him.

"Oh, no," she said and started to back away. "No, no." She continued crawling away until her spine found the damp, stone wall behind her. Frightened tears rolled down her face, wetting her cheeks in streaks. She had killed that man. She should run for help.

No. She'd be charged, blamed for his demise. No way in hell would she let that happen. She couldn't remember what happened and that wouldn't help her cause any. Her eyes darted around nervously, realizing that she didn't know where she was.

Where the fuck am I? Who is this man? Why did I kill him?

Then her mind stumbled onto something even more frightening....

"Who am I?"

Chapter Two

Sex, drugs, money and power. It was all hers, and she knew it. All hers to use and abuse.

In her bed, Hayley looked around the decadent room. It was designer everything. Nothing but the best would do for her.

"Here, baby, try this." She turned to find a man with lightly tanned skin and corded, rippled muscles sitting naked next to her in bed. He held out a small wafer, coaxing her to take it. She'd had some of these before but wondered if she wanted to take any more.

"Not now." She motioned to the table. "Later."

"What do you want to do now?"

Hayley eyed him up and down, his complete nakedness beckoning to be used and taken.

"Who are you?" she asked. Confused, but she knew better. She knew what he was there for. She knew why she had summoned him but had lost the moment somehow. She struggled to gain it back.

"You called me in to satisfy you, Madame. I'm here to fuck your brains out."

Hayley laughed, turning away and jumping up from the bed. The fool thought her stupid. He was a fine damn specimen of a man, but he thought she had no brains. That was fine. It wouldn't matter in the end. She would take what she needed and then give him his just desserts.

"I am a business woman above all things." She grabbed a bottle off the dresser and took a long, hard swig from it. Whiskey? She didn't really taste it. It didn't matter. "And being in this sort of business, Ricky, I have to say, I am most disappointed in you."

The guy shifted in the bed. His flaccid member was shrinking in the coolness of the night air wafting into the room.

"Excuse me?"

She laughed. "I'll tell you later. First"—she handed him the bottle which he took a gulp from as he watched her open her silk robe, revealing her ample breasts—"first we take care of me. Then, I'll take care of you. Deal?"

He nodded, placing the bottle on the nightstand. His cock responded immediately to her nakedness, and his eyes widened when she shed the robe completely. Reaching out, she touched his waiting member, stroking its length in her hand. He was small at first, but with her touch, he grew enormous, larger than most of the lovers she'd taken.

"That's good. You want this, don't you?"

Again, he gave his head a little tip, his breathing shallow but fast as she worked him under her fingers. He was ready in no time, and she wanted him to do to her what he was paid to do.

"Fuck me. Hard."

"Yes, Madame." He reached over, grabbed her and shoved her down onto the bed, pulling her legs around his waist before teasing her entrance with his swollen length. It was smooth, hairless and ready to slide into her folds. Impatient, she yanked him closer, rocking her hips up, beckoning him. He slid inside, letting her hot wetness cover every hardened inch of his cock.

"Yes," she whispered into his ear. "Faster." He did as he was told and continued, pumping faster and slapping his hips against hers until they were both soaking wet. Reaching up to take her breasts into his hands, he pinched her tiny nipples, rolling them in his fingers and relished how hard they became under his rough touch.

"Yes!" Her pleasure-filled moans made him even harder, and he breathed in to hold back his orgasm. She was so tight, so wet and horny as fuck. He liked this job. It was a lot more fun than the last job he'd had, double-crossing her.

"Tell me when you're going to come," she hissed in his ear.

He was so close. He could feel it. He told her he would, leaning back some so he could get a good view of her breasts bouncing with the rhythm. Madame H. had a nice rack. He loved breasts and wanted to suck on them hard enough to leave a mark. He liked marking his bitches. He loved leaving them to bleed.

"I'm going to come!" he groaned. He closed his eyes, ready to feel his burst of pleasure. But then... then something happened. A streak of crimson. A scream in Hayley's head. A struggle for breath.

Was it even real?

It's all in your head. It's all in your head. Nothing is real....

"Will that be all, miss?"

Hayley gasped. She looked around, wondering where she was again. That feeling of perpetual amnesia crept into her once more, giving her a lost, perplexed and dazed feeling. Her heart was racing, and she didn't even know why. The scene had faded away faster than she could grasp onto it and hold on. She was grabbing for straws which were just not there. Nothing tangible. Nothing truly cohesive.

Damn.

She peered back down, staring at the headline of the newspaper in front of her, narrowing her eyes before jerking her gaze away from it, wondering if anyone had reported on a house fire/murder scene yet. Her head was foggy, and everything that had come rushing back like a tsunami receded just as quickly. The recent recall faded and was replaced with the memory of a burning house in the middle of the countryside.

It's all in your head....

There was nothing in there anymore. Nothing worth remembering.

The cave had been carved into the side of a basement in an isolated country house far from any nearby towns or neighbors. It could have burned down to ashes before anyone noticed, and she hoped it would, but she couldn't be sure. Grabbing one of the papers, she added it to the pile of snacks and a hot coffee in front of the cashier.

He was a young kid with acne scars peppering the otherwise youthful face hiding under a mop of dark blonde hair. It needed a cut badly, but that was the style nowadays.

"Yes, that's it." She straightened a crumpled twenty-dollar bill that had been stuffed in her jeans, some of the little money she'd taken from the dead guy's body a few days ago. She was burning through it too fast and would soon need another source of income.

Grabbing her bags, she shoved the heavy glass door open with her back, bracing for the slam of frigid wind tumbling against her, sending shivers straight down her spine.

"Have a good one, miss," the cashier guy called out, giving her a crooked-tooth smile and googly eyes as he watched her. He seemed nice but far too young for her taste. She liked them older, dark haired and olive skinned. Much like the guy she had killed. Or did she? How the hell was she supposed to know? Maybe she liked the gangly youthful kind of guys too. Regardless, she wasn't in the business of looking for a man at that moment and averted her eyes from him with a shy smile before leaving the convenience store.

Hayley's replacement clothes had come from the house above the basement where she'd killed the unknown man and fit loosely. The mothball scent from the dusty clothes was unappealing, but it was better than the alternative of walking in the blood-soaked clothes that were now ashes along with the entire contents of the house she'd left behind. It was lucky the dead guy had had keys to the basement door and his car on him. There, she'd found a jug of gasoline in the trunk of the car. It most definitely belonged to the body lying in its own puddle of sticky, slick blood.

It was best to not leave any trace behind. She had no idea where she was going or what she'd do but was relieved to be sensible enough to think of covering her tracks as best she could.

So she had cleaned herself up in the shower in the house above as quickly as she could, not knowing if anyone else would be coming to meet the man, and donned the loose women's clothing that hadn't been worn in what seemed like years. Then, she'd doused the place with gasoline, making sure to cover every surface, and set it aflame before hurrying out the door to jump into the awaiting car.

The miles had passed like a smear of memory, and she didn't even know where she was now. It didn't matter. Any place was better than the last. Each city passing by was another place between her and the person she'd killed. Her memory had yet to return, but her wound was healing well. Still, it was a constant reminder of that day and everything she'd lost with it.

The only thing that had returned to her was her name. That was it. And not even her last name.

Hayley. Yes, that sounded right.

But what else?

She'd been so thorough to cover her tracks that she wondered if she'd missed something crucial to help her remember. The car didn't ring a bell, but just in case it was hot, she'd ditched the plates several towns back and stolen some off a similar car to not arouse suspicion.

She must have watched her share of espionage movies to know such things and do them without hesitation. Maybe that's what she was... a spy. A secret agent. Anything would be better than not knowing who she was at all.

Walking against the biting wind, she made her way a few spots down toward the car when someone grabbed her arm and sent her coffee splattering to the ground. A gloved hand cut off her scream as the man spoke.

"Keep your eyes forward and don't scream, or I'll kill you right here," he hushed her as she tugged to get away. His fingers dug harder against her skin, causing her to wince in pain.

"What do you want?" she gasped, hurrying as he shoved her forward.

He led her to the car she'd been driving and slid into the driver's side, pulling her in after him. He grabbed her bag of snacks and tossed it to his feet then reached over to slam the door shut. She waited, gripping the steering wheel with her frozen fingers hard enough to turn them pale white.

"Where to?" she asked, eyeing the gun he pointed at her. Who the hell was this guy? He looked oddly familiar, and she wondered if he'd been following her the entire time after leaving the burning house.

That's impossible, she thought. She'd made damn sure no one had followed her for days, keeping a low profile, paying everything with cash just like in the movies. How would this guy fit into all that?

Nothing clicked, and she squeezed the steering wheel tighter, afraid to let it go.

"Just drive the way you were going before. I know you're running. Just keep going."

He had been following her. But how?

Hayley cranked the engine and backed out. Heading west on the interstate once more, she risked a peek at her captor and noticed he'd relaxed once on the road but kept the gun in hand. His hair was dark, and his skin was a lighter olive tone, as if he didn't go outside much. Still, his shoulders were broad, and he was a good six feet tall. She knew he was well-built from when he'd grabbed her in the parking lot, his hard chest pressing into her. He was gorgeous, she had to give him that, but some things are only skin deep. Her arm still tingled where he'd squeezed it.

The miles rolled by, the houses grew scarce and the city faded behind them. Finding it odd that she wasn't completely out of her wits with fear since the guy probably wouldn't kill her yet, she relaxed. He would have done it already if he was going to, she told herself. It wasn't being on the road that frightened her, it was what came at the end of this little trip. What was he going to do with her?

The funny thing was, this guy acted comfortable with her, even with the gun. He reminded her of something familiar, and his scent was like cigarettes and faded cologne mixed with sweat. It made her feel like she must have known him from somewhere. Why would he remind her of something, or someone, for that matter? He hadn't divulged anything that would mean he knew her, but secrets were easy to hide.

Like her own secrets—lost in the abyss of her mind.

Chapter Three

"Are you getting tired?"

His voice was so unexpected after miles of silence, it caused Hayley to startle. She glanced at the man in the seat next to her, finding a sharp, cool stare meeting hers. He was a good-looking man, yes, but frightening as well.

He's dangerous, she thought. And creepy.

"I, uh, yes," she finally responded. She had been driving for almost three hours straight, plowing through America's Southwest. Of course she was tired.

"Pull over here."

Hayley glanced at the rearview mirror. Satisfied they were alone, she pulled to the side of the road, putting the car into park. Immediately, the man grabbed the keys, spun them on his finger and cracked a smile.

"Hop out. I'll take over from here."

Hayley hesitated. "I don't want to go any farther with you. Please—just release me."

The man chuckled then reached over and yanked the door handle, shoving the door open. "Get out," he said as he leaned toward her, motioning her out the door before heading out of the passenger side.

I could always run, she thought. They were in the middle of Timbuktu, and the next town was miles away. She'd die of exposure before reaching any civilization. She deepened her frown and gave him a prickly glare.

"Come on," he shouted at her, pounding on the hood of the car. "We haven't got all day."

Hayley complied, seeing that he was leaving her no choice, and cursed under her breath. The shock of the day was starting to wear on her in a big way, and she was getting irritable. She met him around the front of the car, and before she even knew what he was doing, he reached behind her with one of his large hands, pulling her tightly against him. Their faces were mere inches apart, and she could feel his body's heat emanating from his chest—and much lower. He pressed her harder against him, wedging her against the car's warm hood before she shoved her hands into his chest, knocking him away. Hayley was surprised by her strength and planted her feet firmly to the ground.

"What? Are you going to add criminal sexual conduct to your kidnapping charges?" she asked snidely, feeling suddenly brave.

He chuckled heartily. "Look, H., I'm not the enemy. I know you're having a bit of a breakdown or something right now, but when you come out of it, you're going to realize that our causes are not so different. You might want to rethink your way of comforting a man, if you get what I'm saying, because"—he stepped up close to her again, and she raised a palm in front of her—"you and I," he said with a grin, "are very familiar with each other."

Hayley shook her head. "Convenient thing to say to a woman who can't remember shit. Probably every felon's dream." She twisted her lips, biting down as his face darkened and his chuckle faded to an angry scowl.

"You're one to talk, H. You're one to talk. Look, the desert stretches for hours in every direction. You and I will stick together until I get you back to Vegas. Then there'll be some sorting out to do. A lot of sorting out. I just hope that memory of yours kicks back in for both our sakes."

"And what the hell does that mean?" she snapped, hands balling into fists. This guy was toying with her. He had to be. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Why would he risk anything for her?

"I know it's hard to believe, but you've actually got bigger problems than greasing that douchebag Damian." He gave her a hard look. "You have business associates who aren't too pleased with you. See, you've been gone for a week."

How does he know about the guy in the basement? He knows his name? A week? Holy shit, what happened to me? The thoughts were coming at her fast, and Hayley felt instantly overwhelmed. Her head swam, and her vision darkened. Then her legs began to go, and Hayley felt herself falling, but she could do nothing to stop it. Big arms wrapped around her, his arms, only this time there was nothing salacious about his touch. This time he'd grabbed her out of concern.

He lowered her to the ground slowly and knelt down with her. The light was starting to fade from the sky. Hayley recovered her vision but stayed sitting.

"I don't understand any of this," she said honestly, then looked the man in the eye. "I'm frightened."

The man blew out a long breath. "Wow, H., to see you, like this...." He shook his head then used his hands to pantomime mind blown. He looked down, shaking his head as if unsure what to say next. Far in the distance ahead of them, five or six miles out on the desert road at least, a pair of halogens came into view.

"Who the hell was I?" she asked, staring into him, begging him for some information. "Please?"

Another deep breath was blown out, and then he answered. "You're the boss, Madame H., of a human trafficking operation."

"Human trafficking?" The words floated out of her mouth, a horrified whisper in the evening air.

He cleared his throat. "Sex trafficking. Prostitutes, sex slaves. Some of them willing, some of them... not.

The headlights grew brighter, and he helped her up and stuffed her into the passenger seat of the car. She barely registered anything. Nothing felt real anymore. It couldn't be.

Hayley wished he'd never answered her.

Chapter Four

Hayley tried her best to imagine getting comfortable on the single queen bed taking up most of the tiny motel room. There was only one. Of course. This was fucking bullshit, and her aching head wasn't helping the situation.

Tossing her bag to the floor, all she wanted was a hot shower and some food. Clean clothes would be a bonus, but one or the other of the former would be nice. All three would be damn luxurious.

Her captor shut the door behind them and snickered when he saw what she'd been staring at.

"Cozy." He smirked, and she glared at him, hoping her incessant, acidic look would eat a hole right through his body. He didn't seem to notice and placed his own bag of stuff onto the bed. He must have snuck it into her car when she'd been in the store, for he hadn't been carrying it when he'd grabbed her. This man was full of mystery, but she didn't have the faintest clue who he was or if he was telling her the truth about the past. He could be a pathological liar for all she knew, and had concocted an entire story to mess with her head.

No... he knew her, that was a definite, but she didn't trust him at all.

"I'm sure you want to get a shower in; I'm not so sweet smelling either. But, since I'm not quite sure you won't bolt on me when I'm washing up, I see only one solution to this problem."

Hayley felt her heart speed up and wondered if the man could hear it outside her chest. It was possible; it felt like a stampede of elephants rumbling inside her. The mere suggestion that she'd have to shower with him watching her, or worse, joining her, was too much too process.

She let her gaze slide back to him, feeling her face burn under his scrutinous eyes.

"What?"

He was kidding, right?

The smoldering look he wore now assured her he was far from joking around. How was it that he knew her that well? He obviously did, or he wouldn't be hungering for her like a familiar pleasure. She let her eyes drop to the floor but not without noticing the obvious hard-on bulging to break free under his dark jeans.

"I—I'm not showering with you." Her voice cracked, but she couldn't speak anymore. He was encroaching on her space, but she couldn't move from the spot where she stood. It was as if she was glued to the floor or under his command to stay put. As his body touched hers, there was no more air in the room to breathe.

"Come on, you might enjoy it. Live a little." He slipped his hand over hers, and try as she may, she couldn't snatch it away.

Bastard.

He was a bastard, and he knew it. How well did he know her? How was it that she already couldn't resist him and didn't even know why? He was as sleek as a thief in the night, stealing away her free will with just a touch. It made her body burn and sent squeezing warmth through her middle. She imagined him pulling her close and running his fingers along her neck before cupping her chin and furiously kissing her with his hungry mouth. What was worse was that she wanted it. Her body remembered everything her mind was trying so hard to forget, and she hated herself for it. The traitorous sensations did nothing but build the resentment she was accumulating for this man.

"I don't even know your name and you want me to shower with you?" She laughed. It was more of a crazy chuckle, but she wasn't sure what was happening and didn't know well enough to stop anything that'd been set in motion earlier than her memory allowed her access to. It was too much; overwhelming and insulting all at the same time. She wanted to give in. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run away, but nothing cooperated, and all she could do was let him lead her to the bathroom where he clicked the door shut behind them.

"Take off your clothes." His voice was gruff in the small room. It was a standard motel shower/tub combo, but the curved curtain rod gave it more room, and it wasn't the cheapest motel, so the tub was more of a Roman tub than standard one. It made her even more nervous when she saw that after he moved the curtain to the side.

Then he pulled off his shirt.

Hayley had barely dropped her coat to the floor and was still fully dressed, but she paused to watch him. Underneath the snug dark shirt were corded muscles, sleek and strong. Tattoos covered his arms like sleeves and ran over his chest and back. All sorts of things from skulls to arrows and other objects sprayed across his skin in intricate patterns she wanted to touch with her fingers. The urge was overwhelming, and before she knew it, her fingers were scorched with the warmth of his skin.

He turned, catching her caressing his tattoos. She gasped and pulled away, backing up into the wall where the towel hanger rammed into her back.

"You sure you don't remember anything?" he asked.

She shook her head, panic at his proximity crawling into her. He was still wearing his jeans but nothing else and smelled of sweat and musky dirt. It was alluring, yet she fought her desire and shoved it down as deep as she possibly could.

"No. Don't come any closer... please." Her pleading didn't sound as desperate as she felt. She wanted him with a baffling amount of desire she couldn't comprehend. She knew him... but how? How much had they shared before her memory had committed suicidal erasure? There had to be a damn good reason she'd want to forget things. Maybe she'd been hit on the head? Quite possible, but if it'd only been a week since her disappearance, and her head felt pretty darn intact except for the swimming fogginess this man's presence caused. How does one lose their memory out of the blue?

"Come on, H. You don't forget something like what we had. It was intense and all consuming. Why are you running?"

"I'm not this person you think I am. I can't be...." Could she?

"You are and proud of it. I'll help you remember, I promise. Just let me in." He reached out for her again, and she pressed her back painfully against the towel bar, wishing she could be one of those superheroes who could walk through walls. But she wasn't, and no amount of her strength could get her out of this predicament.

He was the picture of the hottest man she'd ever seen; so why did she want to run so badly?

His hand was on her cheek, and she jerked her head away, feeling the increasing ache of lust trying—needing—to take over.

"Please, don't...."

His hand retreated, leaving a cold front where the singe of his touch had once been. She wanted it back yet couldn't articulate another word. She opened her eyes to find him undoing the button and zipper of his jeans and stripping naked. He didn't turn around but instead cranked the faucets and yanked the switch for the shower spray.

"I suggest you take off your clothes." He tilted his head back to her and smirked. "Unless you want to shower with them on."

"I...." Hayley stuttered, not knowing what to do. The guy just shook his head and groaned.

"When did you become such a prude, H.? You're the one who wanted to go skinny-dipping off the shores of the cliffs near Cabo. You had the whole group naked in mere seconds. What happened to you?" He held his arm out and waved her forward. "After you, clothes on or off."

Hayley cursed under her breath. Her fear melted away, with his last comment filling her with anger instead. She ripped off her shirt and yanked her pants painfully off. She left her bra and panties on and walked forward, stepping over the lip of the tub and letting the heated water slap against her body. He joined her, tugging the curtain into place.

"That's a slight improvement," he muttered, grabbing the small courtesy shampoo bottle and pouring its contents into his hand. "Might as well do some laundry at the same time, right?"

He handed her the bottle and proceeded to lather up his short hair.

"What's your name?" she asked. It had eluded her all this time, and she had to put a name with his face.

"Just call me Jay. It's close enough."

Watching him for a moment as he washed up cleared her head. Jay. At least it was something. Knowing he had a name close to that had her thinking up the ones that could match. It was relaxing enough that she was able to start her own task of cleaning up.

Jay was harmless, wasn't he? He would have killed her by now if he'd wanted to, right? A man that good looking and tough could kill with one twist of a wrist if he wanted to. If they'd been close beforehand, he wouldn't want to do anything bad to her. His treatment of her was baffling and confused her even more. She was tired of feeling this way, but nothing seemed to be making sense. It was exhausting trying to catch up.

She just wanted to relax and enjoy the scene unraveling in front of her. Jay's glorious, naked body was all she wanted in her head right now, and as she grabbed a washcloth, lathering it with soap, she gently rubbed the filth away, taking extra time down where all desires flow, trying her best to ease the need away with her fingers.

It was time to let go and see where things went. She was done making sense of anything.

Madame H. it is.

Chapter Five

Pleasure. It drives all things, motivates all people and demands complete obedience. Even more than survival, more than the most basic necessities, it is the very essence and core of the human being. It is a primal need that can cause anyone to act like a fool, or much worse.

Hayley pressed hard between her legs as Jay rinsed off his body, her fingers conspicuously cloaked in the washcloth. She rubbed hard enough for the tender flesh there to ache, and in that singular sensation, she found sweet satisfaction. The pain set her nerves alight with an intense prickle of euphoria through her entire body, forcing her eyes shut. She gasped at the sudden onslaught of carnal bliss and stumbled backward in the shower, until her butt was pressed against the vinyl back wall. She knew he must be watching her now, but she didn't care or was too consumed by the need to register it. She kneaded against herself, her body moving to match her touch. Then her foot slipped out from underneath her.

Immediately he was on her, pressing her tight and hard against the vinyl, pinning her between corded muscles and the hard, slippery wall. She tried briefly to cry out, but then his mouth covered hers, and his tongue was inside her. She responded graciously, her nails biting into the flesh of his shoulders as he grated against her. She felt his hot erection pressing against her soaked panties and could not help but let a moan escape into his mouth. She felt him grinning, and then he bit down on her tongue.

"Ouch!" she cried at the sudden pain. She pushed him back, away from her a little, but she could tell by the mad, lustful fire in his eyes that he would not be letting her escape now. He reached out, put both hands on the cups of her bra, and tore it apart. Two perfect, pearly white breasts were exposed, and while she bristled with anger, her nipples, dark pink and tender, rose in excitement, ready for attention.

Her face registered shock, but she didn't fight it when he descended upon her. He took one nipple in his mouth while his hand cupped her other breast, massaging it, teasing the soft skin, and flicking over the equally erect nipple there. Her hips bucked against him, her desires taking over and obliterating her doubt.

"Just fucking do it," she moaned, trying to snake one of her hands down to grab at his naked sex. "I want it!"

One big hand cupped between her legs, and his fingers pressed into her, held back only by the fabric of her panties.

"You want it, do you?" he whispered into her mouth.

"Yes, fucking yes!"

"Good," he murmured, and pressed his own swollen sex against hers.

Oh god, it felt good. She wanted to fuck. No fear, no confusion, she just wanted a long, hard fuck to take the stress of the day away. Just as she was about to reach down and help him take her panties off, it was all gone. His lips were gone, and the hotness against her pussy disappeared as well. Her eyes fluttered open in confusion.

"What—?"

Jay backed away and flicked a hand behind him.

"Jay?"

Then she was assaulted by a sudden blast of icy cold water. Her body doubled over, and she screamed.

"Ah! What the fuck!"

Jay was smirking, just under the showerhead and out of its icy reach. He held his rock hard erection in one hand, stroking its length in his palm, smiling wickedly in her direction.

"What's your fucking problem?" she shrieked at him.

"Oh, I have too many to tell you them all." His smirk disappeared into a hard line on his face. Then, without another word, he stepped out of the shower. Hayley heard him grab a towel before exiting the bathroom.

Mother fucker!

Hayley scrambled to flip the levers back over to hot and felt the water change to stinging nettles against her frozen skin. Her jaw chattered with cold, and her whole body shook with angry energy. Not to mention the ache he had stirred up down below that demanded payment.

Bastard! How dare he fucking leave me hanging like that? She watched him through the crack in the shower curtain as he swiped a towel and dried himself, never looking worse for wear. Then, right before exiting the bathroom, he glanced her way, blew her a kiss and winked.

Fuck me.

Chapter Six

Jay was far from harmless. He was anything but. He'd let the bathroom door swing closed behind him, leaving the former Madame H., now just plain Hayley, to writhe in her unresolved defeat. He held a scratchy white towel in one hand as he walked into the living space of the motel room. His own body ached with desire, hurt with it actually, a distinct throbbing between his legs. He heard Hayley scrambling to warm the shower and smiled. Then he looked to the ceiling, straightening his back and closing his eyes.

He felt the desire in him, let it rise up before he mastered it. Like a ringmaster, he forced the angry heat between his legs to subside, which it did after a moment of concentration. Jay smiled at the command he had over his body. Pure control. He had to have it. If he couldn't even rein in his own animalistic desires, how could he be effective in his line of work? Sure, he could have fucked Hayley senseless in the shower and be none the worse for it. In fact, he may still fuck her tonight, but he had to show himself, and her, who was truly in control of this little rodeo. The look on her face had been worth every bit of agonizing restraint too.

It was a cruel lesson Hayley had to learn. The tables were turned now, and things were going to change from this point on. He'd make sure of it.

Jay came from a long and distinguished line of professionals. He would not take his station or its duties lightly. His order was ancient and worldwide. Though Jay liked to think of himself as the best, he knew that in this field, the competition was stiff. Stiff and ruthless. If one wanted to play in the world's oldest and greatest game of sex, money and death, he had better be ready to kill for it. Or to die for it. Jay too would one day die for it, it was his destiny, as unavoidable as the sun. But it would not be this day. For this day he was still the hunter, and the hunter was bringing back a juicy prey.

Hayley too would die eventually, that he knew, and much sooner than she might think. The wolves were waiting in Las Vegas, a city that took no prisoners. Madame H. had built a gilded throne of wealth, deceit and carnal gluttony there—a vast empire. The problem with being the queen, though, was that everyone else wanted the throne. All it took was one little misstep, one mistake, and the masses became the hunters and royalty became the prey. Just like now. She was in more danger than she could have ever imagined.

Jay smiled to himself and let the white towel rub over his iron body. He was not one of the masses, though; he had no desire to be royalty. His kind only wanted one throne, one title: to be the best. To be the most feared. To be the deadliest man to walk the planet.

Lying on the bed, he couldn't wait to see how things would pan out in Vegas. It'd be easier to get things moving in the direction he needed them to once they returned. It was his town, and no one knew it better. Though he'd traveled extensively, there really was no place like home.

No other place to get revenge either. Hayley had it coming. It was inevitable, being the Madame of Vegas with more enemies than any person should have. It was all her fault, really. Jay was her right-hand man, lover, hater, enforcer... and whatever else Hayley had needed him to be. Even so, she'd never lived up to what she owed him. The years had passed, and no matter how much she used him, she never gave him anything he really wanted—her heart. He didn't think she really had one anymore. She'd shoved her promises down his throat for so long, he no longer knew if she was even capable of keeping the one she'd sworn to him years before. Anyway, he wasn't sure that was the only thing he wanted of her anymore.

"You will always be mine."

"Goes both ways, doesn't it?" Jay asked. Hayley twisted a long blade of grass in her fingers before she carefully tore it down the middle to create two blades and tied them together in a knot.

"Of course." She avoided his look as she spoke, sending alarm bells firing off in his stomach, which he chose to ignore. "Always."

"Promise?"

She scoffed, this time eyeing him with a stink eye that burned into the very heart of his soul. "Are you saying I'm a liar, Jay?"

"No, of course not. I'd never do that. I just need to know that this isn't some joke for you, that we both see it the same way."

She smiled, scooting over closer to him, swinging a leg over his thighs to cradle his lap. His hands instinctively slid over her ass and gave it an affirming squeeze as she rocked her hips slowly, igniting a fire inside his loins that could never be quenched. He swallowed, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I promise. It's you and me. Always. Okay?" She reached down, sliding her hand between her legs down onto the bulge in his jeans. It sent sparks raging through him that only she could control. He wanted her to control him then, wanted to be her slave forever. If only she'd let him. Nothing was more impossible than trying to resist.

"Okay."

Who knew how much that lie had cost him? The payment had been too great, and he stifled the tiny twisting ice pick embedded in his heart that Madame H. had placed there so long ago. There was no removing it. Some things had to be lived with, no matter how agonizing and torturous they were.

He would never fall again, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun with her first. Especially now, without her wretched memory to impede her reactions. Who knew Hayley losing her memories would be the most amusing thing to happen since getting caught in a monsoon in Bangkok while on assignment to assassinate a business mogul? It hadn't been easy getting through the security of his inner circle, but Jay had done it and had barely slipped out of the country without losing his head.

This wasn't that different, really. There was just less risk of losing an appendage. If her memory stayed away long enough for Jay to get what he wanted, this all could work out better than he'd ever anticipated.

Storming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped tightly to her chest to cover her breasts, Hayley huffed to the other side of the bed, slamming the light off before staring hard at him.

"The hell you're sleeping by me. Get off the bed!" She waited but a second before she crawled onto the bed and began shoving at his side. "I said off!"

For a moment he thought Madame H. had returned, but when she didn't say anything further, he knew better and laughed.

"I paid for the room. You get off," he responded, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes, feigning sleep. This had to have steamed her more, but she didn't push it any further. Instead, she yanked the sheet out from under him before sliding into the bed next to him. He had shoved the blanket to his feet and hadn't counted on her ripping them both from him. The only thing she'd left him was the nasty coverall he was betting never got washed.

"Fine. Find your own blankets then, asshole." She tucked the sides of the sheet and blanket under her nice and snug as a burrito before turning to the side, away from him, and going silent.

He could tell she was pissed, but the air of unfamiliarity and her initial fear were gone, which was more than enough for him. Jay was counting on her getting comfortable with him, more than she'd ever been before. They'd been completely harmonized before, but now with him in control, he'd have her doing his bidding without hesitating or demanding to know why.

Just desserts....

"Good night." Bitch.

Chapter Seven

"He's a thug. A real degenerate piece of shit."

"Maybe so," Sheriff Cordoza answered, nudging the man with a well-worn cowboy boot. "But he's still dead, and he's still in our county."

"So," his deputy huffed next to him, "we still have to bring him to justice?"

"Oh, son," the old man said, his dark face crinkling, "I'd say this one has definitely already been brought to justice. But that don't mean we ain't gonna solve the killing."

"Maybe give the perp a pat on the back while we're at it? Hell, I'll buy 'em a beer."

The old, leathery-skinned sheriff mused over this for a minute. It had its appeals, certainly. He was a lawman, of course, but out here in the middle of God's country in Texas, he sometimes saw the laws a little differently. Sometimes natural justice just... occurred. Sometimes he had to help it along. "Have it all photographed, DNA smears, the whole bit. Jobs needing done."

The deputy nodded. "Of course. Any press release?"

"Not unless they come calling, and if they do, send them to me."

The sheriff stood in what used to be a carved-out dungeon of sorts in the old mansion. The mansion was no more, of course, after the house fire which had raged through the morning and throughout most of the day. There was almost nothing left. Well... almost. Then they found him, and shit got complicated fast. And then... they found them, and the shit really hit the fucking fan. The man was burnt up, of course, and the sheriff knew damn well it was murder/arson, but he had no problem identifying the victim. He happened to be a frequent flyer through Texas, one the sheriff had been most anxious to get acquainted with.

Looks like I'll never get a chance to now, thought the sheriff. Damian Abrudhera was stamped in elegant calligraphy on the inside of the dead man's belt buckle. A former narco trafficker, he had moved to Texas from Dubai to take advantage of the lucrative drug opportunities between Mexico and the United States. Damian, who several years ago got out of the cocaine business and into the people business, namely underage ones. The definitely illegal age kind of people. Those souls that no one in America knew about and even fewer cared about. Most people were happy to stick their heads in the sand and flip the channel on their sixty-inch flat screens to the Food Network rather than hear about the sick demented people in their own backyards. Nope, most didn't want to know their bubbles were sitting in a wasteland of shit where the criminals ran amuck, dealing in the sick desires and secret fetishes of those with way too much money to burn. Those were the new pots of gold at the end of the rainbow, and the public kept their blinders on to it all.

Damian had begun offering his services as a coyote, or so the stories went. Then he would abscond with the young female refugees and either kill the families or leave them to die. He would sell the underage girls as sex slaves to an unknown accomplice somewhere out west, probably Vegas. That place seemed to be a hotspot for the seediest of America's crooks. After that, the girls were never seen again. They would live out a short and presumably torturous lives as forced prostitutes before they became too old or too boring. Then, they would be sold as household workers to the rich or to those just looking for bodies to torture, for use in snuff films. That would be the end of the road for them. No more hopes or fears, no more dreams, only disappointment and death.

This would be big news in law enforcement circles, but not much further than that, since Americans didn't really want to know about the real monsters in their midst. Give them a few police brutality cases and a school shooting and they went back to arguing contrite stuff like gun control and whether a woman's uterus was the government's domain. Bullshit to fill up their monotonous days with something of value. Too bad it was the wrong kind.

The sheriff turned over the belt buckle with grim satisfaction. Damian was a bad guy, a really tried and true bad guy, but who had killed him? Was this just a lucky break, having one of the most feared human traffickers in the southwest picked off, or was there a bigger fish out there that they now needed to be looking out for?

"Least they saved us the time to try him," the sheriff said.

"At least there's that. So, no car in the garage or driveway, so I'll assume that our killer took off in it?"

"That seems to be a pretty accurate assumption. Either that or they came together and only the one left. Either way, it's the same in the end. Did you find a wallet or anything like that?"

"No, but I figured it would be burned up anyway."

"Could be, could be. Go ask around a few gas stations. See if anyone was asking for directions or if someone noticed a fancy car heading out of town with a little bit of speed."

"Sure, sure," the deputy agreed. "Anything else? Should I talk to the state police yet or wait?"

"Wait and see if we get a description on the car. If we do, get an APB out immediately for it. Also, get in touch with border patrol. Most of these girls here were too young to have been through the system yet, but I'll bet that somebody down there has seen at least one or two of them before. They may be illegals, but they still have next of kin out there."

"I'll do that." His deputy didn't flinch. He was a pro, but he avoided looking over to the area in the cellar they had uncovered during the search. The area was a pit that had been dug into the stone floor, beneath where Damian had been killed. The pit had been filled with girls, presumably waiting for sale. It was now filled with twisted, charred remains.

He no longer thought of it, but it was sad that the sheriff had become desensitized this way. He had seen so many Mexicans dead. Killed by the cartels, killed by the drugs they swallowed, killed by his own men as they tried to make stands. They had been his people just a few hundred years ago, born of the same native tribes, only they had grown up on the wrong side of the river. It did no good to dwell on this, which is why the old man did not. He had many children and grandchildren that he had successfully raised in America. America was a good country. Texas was the best state, and he loved his home. It was just sad and a damn shame.

"All right then, get on it."

The deputy got up and walked out of the room, already sending the other investigators scurrying.

Damian was a piece of shit, a real cocksucker, and the sheriff was glad to see him burned. He really was, and didn't feel a damn bit bad about it.

It was like Johnny Cash said, in the end, "God's gonna cut you down." And he sure as hell did to Damian Abrudhera.

***

Deputy Mason walked out of the dungeon happy to be away from the stink of burning flesh. Ugh. It wouldn't be so bad if it smelled like pork, maybe some spare ribs, but burning Mexicans? Jesus, it was goddamn terrible. The house was just a skeleton, and he picked his way carefully out to the road, passing firefighters and arson investigators.

He thumbed his radio. "We need a full CSU response team over here on Peach Grove."

He didn't want to say too much over the radio. There was this guy, Dick, the town's newspaper editor, and once he heard "bodies," on the radio, they'd have a thousand damn people with cameras shoved up their asses. Plus, Mason had some thinking to do before all this rancid shit got stirred up and displayed for public viewing and consumption. It would be a fucking circus when word got out. That was for damn sure.

He flipped open his phone at the same time as he pulled open the door to his cruiser.

"Hey, Es. Hey, baby. I'm glad you're up. No, I'm fine. Just heading home, though. Eh, it's some nasty business this morning. I'll talk to you about it when I get there. It's... concerning. But hey, I was hoping you could help me take my mind off it a little. What do you say?"

A grin crept over his face as he listened to the response. Esmerelda was always up for doing his bidding. She was the perfect little wifey.

"Yep. Yes, I think that will do just fine, baby. I like the one with the red hair. I know she's a little older, but I really like the red hair and her hot legs. Good. I'll be home in ten minutes."

Mason flipped his phone closed and smiled. He was going to have a little fun this morning at least, before he had to clear everyone out. It was already turning him on, and his arousal pressed against the zipper of his slacks. His flashing smile switched to a frown as he thought of the unpleasant task at hand here at the mansion.

Now I'll have to find another damn contact to get me the girls. Not to mention figuring out who he'd have to deal with in Vegas. After all, Damian had always handled that side of their business.

Esmerelda was waiting for him just inside the door of their home. It was a three-bedroom ranch, built just two years ago. It was cute and well cared for, and was the type of home Mason had always dreamed of living in while growing up, traveling from motel to motel with his worthless wannabe singer druggie mother. As he closed the door, Es threw her arms around him, pulling his chest against her. She wore a satin robe, which broke favorably in the front to reveal her ample breasts. As Mason gazed down admiringly at her bosom, Es started unbuttoning his work shirt, then pulling it off over his back and shoulders.

When his chest was bare, she backed away from him, leading him to the edge of the sofa, where she leaned back and let the robe fall the rest of the way open down her front. Mason took full advantage, kneeling down in front of her soft brown body. She wrapped her legs behind his head and held him against her while his tongue did delicious things with her tender parts. Es pulled his hands up to her breasts, helping him massage them while his face was busy down below.

She began to moan against him. "Oh, baby, that's so good!" Her broken English was sexy, and he loved to hear her speak. He moaned something inaudible back which made her chuckle. Intertwining her fingers in his sandy brown hair, she pulled and kneaded it, just like he liked. This was what Mason liked. He loved to give her oral pleasure, and she wasn't about to argue with him about it. Two more minutes passed with his tongue inside her, twisting, turning and then flicking over the top of her sex before Es finally climaxed. She screamed out in pleasure, vocalizing it enough that if they had neighbors, they'd be cited for the noise.

She rocked back and, since both hands were on Mason's hair, she suddenly lost her balance and fell over onto the couch, laughing as she did. Mason, after a startled moment, joined her in laughter, and they both rolled about on the floor, half naked.

"Talk about bottoms up!" he said, laughing and smacking her tight bottom. Es rolled herself into a sitting position as gracefully as possible. Her black hair was in her face, but her almond eyes were still sparkling.

"I love you, baby, no matter what happens. Okay?" Her words were like honey in his ears. Her accent elongated the vowels in a way that made him want her to keep talking.

"I love you too, Es. You're my dream woman. Just perfecto!"

"Now come in here," she said, swiping his hand to lead him into the bedroom. She opened the door, and the soft yellow light inside revealed his king-sized bed with its ample comforter. Laying atop the bed, bound and naked, was the redheaded Hispanic girl they'd gotten in last week.

Mason grinned wickedly, his cock pulsating at the thought of the girl's awaiting hot pussy.

At nineteen, she was too old to be much use on the market, so they kept her around just for fun. She never tried to run. Not yet. In fact, he thought she was actually starting to enjoy their brief but passionate interludes. Mason undid his belt and let his pants drop, revealing his erection. Es put her hand on it, massaging him into a fervor. The girl made no reaction on the bed, but neither did she shy away from him.

"This is going to be the last time for her," he mumbled to Es, who nodded, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Turn her over," Es said. "I want to see her ass."

As the two closed in on Sasha, so did a twinge of fear. She wasn't afraid of the rape. Years of it had made her numb to it. At least, that's how she'd coped through all the rapes. Though one thing for sure, she'd rather not be tied up like a fucking pig. She'd been in this business far too long to let it bother her much. Too many rapes over too many years had numbed her soul into an emotionless vessel. No, her fear came from the cop-pig's words. "This is going to be the last time for her." That could only mean they were finally going to get rid of her, which meant she had no more time to plan her escape. The time was now. She had to make her move or die.

Her contempt for her keepers had started to blossom from some unknown hidden crevice inside, festering and drawing life like a cancer. It had developed enough to keep her watching, waiting for the most opportune time to escape. Now that it was approaching fast, she had to gather her wits and make every move count.

Survive. Kill or be killed. There was no in-between.

Chapter Eight

The lights of Vegas burned into Hayley's retinas as the horizon revealed the skyline passing the mountains. It was breathtaking and sent a familiar tickle through her brain. She'd been here before. It was impossible to pinpoint how she knew that; it was like a childhood memory pressing to reemerge from the depths of an ocean within her mind. Nothing specific drifted up, just an affirmation she'd been here before and this place held all her destiny within its neon lights and flashing signs.

The buildings were an array of every color of the rainbow, and it was impossible to not gawk at the beauty of the city. There were no other places like this in the world. Somehow, she knew she'd been all over. A fucking world traveler and had almost seen it all in her youthful years. How was it that she could remember such random shit but nothing else? It was frustrating beyond belief.

Not only that, but Jay hadn't divulged anything further about her. She wanted to choke the living shit out of the man, but he wouldn't budge. It was to be told in Vegas. What she wanted to know would reveal itself there. The bastard probably didn't know a thing about her at all and was pretending he knew her well. He probably just knew what he'd been told when he'd been sent to retrieve her.

But who had sent him? If she was the boss, who else would give the command to search for her? A partner? Co-owner? Jay obviously wasn't her second in command or he'd be more forthcoming. Was there someone else in power that wanted her delivered back alive, or worse, dead? Maybe it'd been an order of dead or alive for all she knew. Either way, she was silently thankful Jay had so far decided to keep her alive.

"So when am I going to know more? We're in Vegas already."

Jay's amused grin rubbed her like coarse sandpaper. If he wasn't driving and she wasn't afraid he'd veer off the road and kill them, she'd sucker punch him in the jaw. Curling her fingers tightly into a fist, she resisted the urge and waited for him to give her the standard answer he'd been repeating to her over and over again for a thousand miles. What was this inherent violent notion inside fighting to break free? Something told her she didn't really want to know.

"I didn't say the moment we got to Vegas you'd find out everything, but you will know fairly soon. We're not that far from where it all began." He paused and threw her a sideways glance. "Where it all ends."

"What do you mean, 'where it all ends'? That sounds a bit ominous, don't you think?" Hayley caught a slight quiver in her voice. Maybe this uncomfortable feeling of dread creeping up her innards and gripping its tiny tentacles around her spine was wearing her down. A thousand possible scenarios raced through her brain.

"I promise you'll be told everything. Really. Now it's just time to be patient and wait. You might like what you hear. On the other hand, you might not. There's no way to tell. You've forgotten it all, like some weird mental block or something. Why you'd want to forget baffles me."

"Maybe there are things you don't know about. Horrible things I'd want to block out."

"Nah." Jay shook his head. "I know everything that happens at Madame H.'s."

Hayley shoved her fists into her sides, hugging her body as she pushed away all the possible violent ideas plaguing her thoughts. What if there were things he didn't know about her, about her business? Anyone could keep secrets. Why not her past self too?

No one knows everything about everyone, right?

The lights of the Las Vegas Strip zoomed past like a hypnotizing streak of neon and taillights. Something about it felt familiar and comforting and yet full of doom. How one place could evoke so many emotions in a person was a curiosity. Hayley reached up to touch the cool glass of the window and felt the fading heat from the outside penetrating in like a constant friend reaching out toward her. Maybe the night would bless her with the memories she needed badly enough to be on this dark road with a stranger who held the keys to her life. Nothing made sense, but she was willing to bet it would be resolved soon.

Whether it was good or not was the question.

"How long have we been friends?" she asked. Her curiosity couldn't wait any longer. If only Jay would open up more about the past, she might feel more at ease. Nothing made it harder than arguing with him about timing. He wanted to wait to tell her everything, but she couldn't wait any longer.

"I've known you since you were in diapers."

She turned toward him and scoffed. "You're lying."

"You wanted to know. I'm older than you by five years, and I remember everything."

She watched him as silence ensued. Everything he answered left her with more questions. Was it even worth it to ask him any more, when it was just too much to take? After a moment, she decided it was. It was all worth it to find out who she was and what kind of people she associated with, no matter how much it would hurt.

"How many of those years were we lovers?"

He paused, contemplating her question in-depth before he answered. "From the moment we laid eyes on each other."

"Come on. Really. Can't you give me a straight answer, ever?"

"It's true. I knew back then you were special. There was never a doubt."

"If I was so special, what happened to break our bond?"

Jay glanced at her, and a strange, evocative look passed over him. "Who said it was broken?"

"It is, you know. You and I. We're broken. There's no way a pair of people who loved each other for so long with as much intensity as you tell me could ever be too far from each other without the other suffering ill effects. If we were all right, I wouldn't want to forget any of it. I'd cherish every memory, despite being in this fatal fugue, all fogged up in here." She tapped her temple. "Regardless of how damaging our love was to either of us."

"True. But you don't know that yet. Maybe one of us was broken. Maybe the other is trying to not give up on them."

She drummed her fingers against the door handle, feeling the hard surface under her nails. Something told her she was right. They had been broken a long time ago, and it had taken this mental block to bring them back together. Maybe there was no fixing what was wrong, but the mess she was going to walk back into was pulling her in like a long-forgotten tether which would never let her go, no matter how far or how long she ran.

But running had gotten her nothing. It had brought her full circle, and regardless of what happened this time around, she wasn't going to run away again. The demons had to be faced head-on.

"Would you do me a favor, Jay?" Hayley asked.

"What sort of a favor?" He kept flicking curious gazes toward her. The things running through his head were things she would love to pull out and sift through with a magnifying glass. She wanted to find the most impossible and darkest things she might ever discover about a person. He was a puzzle she wanted to figure out, a Rubik's Cube that needed solving, but the longer she attempted to turn his fragments around, the deeper they bit into her fingers. Maybe he was unsolvable. Maybe he was the only one who could show her the way the colors went.

"When everything goes down or goes bad," she said, "promise me you'll be the one to end it."

"What sort of bullshit favor is that? Why would you even ask me that? You don't know what's coming or how it's going to go. It could be a good thing for you and me."

Hayley sighed, closing her eyes and dropping her head back on the headrest. She hoped he was right. Oh god, she did.

Chapter Nine

Jay watched as she pulled her hand from the door and laid it in her lap. Her long, dirty blond hair draped around her like a curtain sliding closed across the stage. She was nothing but a mystery he thought he knew everything about. Maybe he didn't know anything about her anymore. She'd had her secrets, that much he had discovered in the past week after she'd gone missing. How someone so close to him could retain such a vast well of things he didn't know had blindsided him.

Everything about Hayley was his business. She was his piece of the game to play, and it was disorienting to hear her speak like they were doomed, no matter what was going to happen.

She couldn't know that much; her memory was shocked. Stunned. It made him wonder how much she did remember. If she was hiding things now, it could prove fatal for both of them. He'd have to make sure she didn't remember anything, especially what had happened the day she'd gone missing. It was fortunate he hadn't been too far behind her when she'd torched the mansion. If he'd been gone just one more day, he would have lost her forever. He'd have to stay close to her and take care of it if it all came rushing back.

If it ever did come back.

"Just promise me, Jay. Please?"

He sighed, scratching the stubble growing out across his jaw. What to say to that?

"All right, fine. I'll take care of it. I promise. But nothing's going to happen. Trust me."

But in truth, now that they were back in Vegas, in this brilliant desert of decadence, he was not the one in control. Hayley was his only chip. It was a big damn chip, no doubt, but it was all he had. For all his skills, there were so many more like him, and even though he was good—fuck that, the best—he really didn't know if he would be able change the outcome of this endgame.

Do I even want to? he thought.

What was it about Hayley that tortured him so? Her smoking hot ass, for one! But that wasn't it. Her face was in his mind, always, and her words were in his ears every single damn night.

You and I, baby, always....

No!

He shrugged off the memory violently, shaking his head to clear it. It was lies. All lies. That's why she was in his head, because of what she'd done to him. She was a master fucking manipulator and an authority in mind-fuckery. This could all be a ruse. Who else could convince all those young, naive girls to go out and sell their sex and mouths for her? She was a brilliant, deceptive monster. A sexual poison that rotted the soul away, bit by aching bit.

But she isn't that monster right now though, is she?

That was a thought that felt beyond his reach. That's out of your depth, his adopted father would have said. But he pondered it nonetheless. She was Madame H., of course. It was her body he had loved so many times, her lips he had kissed, and her wicked mind that had committed innumerable crimes against women, men, anyone who got in her way. But it also wasn't her. It was also the fragile, vulnerable Hayley under that mask of amnesia.

This was not Madame H., queen of illegal sex-trafficking in the Southwest. This was just a woman named Hayley who happened to share the same body with Madame H. That body. Oh yes. That body. Jay felt warmth flood into his face, and much, much lower as he thought about Hayley's brilliant white skin and sexy, womanly curves. Oh god, that's what really did it for him. She was all hard muscle underneath, but covered with soft, supple skin which practically melted under his touch. Fiery memories rolled in of her legs wrapped around his waist, her hard nipples in his mouth and her hungry hands all over him, begging him for more. Pleading with him.

Those were memories he couldn't keep away, and for all his discipline and control, for all the mastery of emotions he'd taught himself, there was no denying the primal weakness for this woman. He hoped it didn't get his ass killed.

Not over a fucking woman. That won't be the end of me, he thought. Well, it was always over a woman, wasn't it? Always. Men were brought to their knees and laid out in pools of their own pathetic blood because of women. The tales were old, tried and true. Only a fool would deny it.

His street approached, and he took the turn quickly, the Mercedes' tires squealing just a hair as he executed the turn onto Blue Diamond Road. Another few miles down and he was turning again, back on his home turf. One more swiftly executed right-hand turn and they were on a gravel road, heading into the unforgiving scrub desert.

Ahead was the Red Rock Lodging, which was little more than a dozen small wooden cabins in a semi-circle with enormous gaps in between them for privacy. An old-fashioned style water tower hovered behind them, serving not only as a decoration but also as the only means of running water for the cabins. Out here in the desert, there really was no water unless you brought it, pumped out of the ground or piped it in, so each week the tower was filled by a tanker to supplement the small wells drilled into the earth all around the place. It'd been here a long time, and upon close inspection, the walls of the cabins betrayed their age.

In the center of the semicircle of small cabins, which probably covered a quarter of a mile, was a swimming pool which, though it looked like shit, was actually well maintained, with a single spiraling open-topped water slide for anyone who dared venture out into the daytime's blaring sun and heat. It was a well-used retreat for the customers and staff alike. The small resort was a favorite of Jay's.

This would be home for tonight. He had a lot of things to think about, and even though he was supposed to be bringing Madame H directly to the warehouse headquarters, they did not know he had returned to Vegas.

They could wait one night. She could have this one night for her troubles, couldn't she? He stifled a pang of... what? Guilt? Regret? Sorrow? Useless sentiments anyway, he thought. The kind of shit that gets one killed, or worse, tortured.

Brushing the emotional cobweb of shit away from his thoughts, he pulled the big sedan into the single spot next to the cabin he'd rented days ago. He always liked to have a backup plan as an escape or just another option. It was how he'd stayed alive so damn long in this crap business. One had to have not only a Plan A and B but make damn sure there was a Plan C, D and E.

He threw the car into park and looked over at Hayley. She was just staring at him, observing him with her tiny, beady eyes like she could see past his facade and deep into his blackened soul.

Chapter Ten

Hayley's thoughts came into more focus as she observed Jay driving. He was thinking about her. She knew he was from the almost imperceptible glances he was flicking over at her legs, her hands, her chest. He was watching her. What was he thinking about? Was he thinking about what he was going to do to her? Was he reliving some old memories? Or was he just a boy looking at a girl? No, no, much more than a boy. This is a man, and he isn't looking at me like that with innocence.

Hayley watched him shift around in his seat then noticed the tightening in the crotch of his pants. Holy shit, he's getting hard.... This kidnapping mother fucker was fantasizing about her! She almost chuckled out loud at the absurdity of it. He had shut her down hard last night. I wanted something hard, but his rejection wasn't it. As she watched the tiny grin tugging at the corners of his sensuous mouth, she couldn't help but smile faintly as well. She knew they shared something deep, she just knew it, but the memories still evaded her. Then they turned off the main strip, jolting her out of her thoughts.

She watched intently as they made several turns that led to a desert road. She memorized those turns, locked them into her vault, which right now, had plenty of room. She saw the cabins coming up in the distance and formulated a plan. No, not a plan. An idea. A request to her mind to get an action plan going. He wanted her, that was true enough. His hard-on told her that much right now. She could not overpower him with her muscles, nor with her will, but maybe with her assets. My brain and some good fuckin' pussy, she thought. Yeah. Just maybe she could get the upper hand.

Jesus, do I really talk like that? She crossed her arms, feeling dirty and somewhat unclean at her perverse thoughts.

She did not know what his plan was. She didn't know what fate awaited her, and even though she really wished she and this man were in it together and that he would somehow be there for her after all was said and done, well, she wasn't about to take any chances. Plus, she didn't trust him one bit. He wouldn't fuck her, so what else would he not do for her? She still wanted to get laid. The ache throbbing between her legs told her that much. Even if Jay wasn't good for much else, that much she wanted from him.

They pulled up to a small cabin, which, for all it was lacking, actually held a bit of charm. As the dusty sand puffed out into the night air, Hayley prepared herself for whatever this night would bring. She had to be ready.

Neither she nor Jay could have seen the tiny wink of a reflection on glass nearly a mile away.

***

In the distance, a man who'd been waiting for hours finally shifted the focus ring on his two-thousand-dollar telescope. He'd left the scope focused on top of the tripod, pointing at the two as they exited the vehicle. The man, Jay, scanned the horizon as he moved, but he didn't see him. The man reached down and touched his throat radio mic. The radio signaled to a transceiver over five miles away, where it would then bounce through a scrambler and then zoom back into the heart of Las Vegas to deter any tracking.

"They're here."

Static crackled in his earpiece as he waited for a response.

"You're certain of this?"

He ground his teeth briefly, knowing it could be heard in the mic.

"Absolutely certain. It's them. He has the woman. Just like I told you he would."

"This is disappointing."

"I told you he wouldn't do what you asked. He wouldn't just return her."

Silence. Crackling, screaming silence.

Fuck! the man thought.

"Do not engage. Continue surveillance and let me know of any changes. I'll be sending a team."

"ETA?"

Crackle, crackle.

A small cough. He hated waiting on the sidelines.

"I'll get the team ready. They'll need to be outfitted first but can be ready in sixty minutes, maybe ninety."

The man groaned at his employer's lack of military precision. "Are you certain?"

Wait for it, wait for it.

"Yes. Don't question me, soldier! She isn't going anywhere if she came this far. Standby for now."

The man nodded, frowning as he went back to his scope. The fireworks would be coming soon. He wished he could see what kind of fireworks might be happening inside that blasted cabin. This was Madame H. of all people, of course. She was there, and when she was involved, it always included a hot throbbing between his legs. He'd been watching her for years on and off, and she played a major part of all his innermost fantasies.

One day, he thought. One fucking glorious day, he'd give it all to her. Hard.

Chapter Eleven

The cabin's interior was familiar, but Hayley couldn't pinpoint why. She'd been here before; she was betting on it. Dozens of times. Had it been with Jay? How many lovers had she shared her bed with and spread her limbs dripping of sex? How many? There was never just taking when it came to such intimate things. It was always give more than take. Shell out the pieces of oneself with every encounter, every caress, every kiss, lick and thrust. It took something from each participant, leaving behind bits and pieces of one another whether they wanted to or not. She'd lived many nights and was betting she'd rarely spent any of them alone, without the comfort of a man.

It was a soothing yet frigid thought.

"Another night in the same bed?" she scoffed. "Is it that impossible to get two beds? Why don't I just take the floor?"

Jay snatched her arm before she could take another step into the room. She gasped, pulling back and yanking as hard as she could while kicking his legs, but he refused to let go.

"You're sleeping with me tonight. I don't care if you lie there or fuck me. I let you out of my sight, I'm dead, and you're dead. So get over yourself." He promptly let her go and sent her flying onto the bed.

Her slender body bounced off the mattress, leaving her settled on her back. Lying there, she eyed him with a tenacious anger, hunger and contempt, filling Jay up with a longing he'd never known.

There it was again, that damn fire she sets inside him with nothing but one look. There were so many pieces of her missing, but that look—it was there just for him. Remembering how hungry it made him to reach out, rip her clothes right off until her tits hung out for him to pull into his mouth and suck until the tips were red and raw, he licked his lips.

She liked it rough. She always had. He could see she still did.

He wanted to give it to her right then. Show her everything she made him feel and remind her just how much she wanted him. There was no giving up what they had. Even through the pain they'd caused each other, the multiple lovers, the deceit... it had him thinking twice about why this had all happened and how much they needed one another.

But....

He couldn't take her back now. They'd kill them both. Wouldn't they?

He shoved the thought from his mind. She was waiting for him, and he didn't want to wait any longer. Her legs spread apart slightly, driving him forward to do exactly as he'd dreamed of doing since finding her again.

"Hayley, you know where this ends, don't you?"

Her wicked smile played on the edges of her lips. They belonged to the same warm, wet pink mouth he'd seen wrapped around his cock so many times. It responded to the reminder, pulsating to break free from his pants.

I need her. Badly. More than she'll ever know.

"It will end in the only place I want it to end," she answered. He liked her feistiness, the way her eyes shined with a depth he could never fathom. Her soul held secrets he was sure to pay for, but right now, there was only one payment he demanded.

Give and take. That was the simple contract of this moment.

Jay reached out, sliding his hands up her smooth thighs, relishing the gooseflesh that flared from his touch beneath her jeans. He knew they were there. There was no doubt about it. Her eyes never left his, igniting with a pinch of fear which drove him to go further and grab her pants, tugging them down to her ankles where her shoes got in the way. He pulled them off too and spread her legs, giving him a full view of her pretty bits. Cupping her ass with hands, he lifted her closer and kneeled to the ground.

She gasped, anticipating what was to come. Her tension eased as his tongue slipped out and into her awaiting wetness. Each lick made her twitch at first, heightening her awareness and causing her to relax with each movement as he thrust his tongue inside and let her feel the pleasures she couldn't remember.

Her moans increased as her legs spread even wider, giving him full access. Give and take. It was a chant in his head while he tasted the sweet juices from her orgasms and spread her wetness all over, readying her so his hardened cock could take her over and over.

And she was ready—more than ready—for Jay to give it to her. He unzipped his jeans and yanked his boots off with one swift motion. She crawled back on the bed, her eyes no longer slightly fearful but now vibrant with curiosity and desire. No, it was only a ravenous appetite to get what he was going to give her. She wanted it, and she undressed, tossing the rest of her clothes to the side and waiting as she watched him.

Her hands subconsciously moved to her hardened nipples, pinching and rubbing as they went along, all on their own, remembering all the things they could do to her own skin without her head involved. It was glorious and sent her over the edge without trying too hard.

It was something to see a person realize that the true power came from within.

He loved it when she touched herself. He had watched her do it often enough, for she loved to tease. He knew better than anyone she didn't need any man to give her pleasure. She had given it to herself just the way she wanted it more times than he cared to admit. Even the women who'd shared her bed were nothing but playthings. Only Hayley knew exactly what Hayley needed, and it left all her lovers striving to be more to her, do more, give more. That was until she used them all up and discarded them for the next ones. It was her way. A succubus in the flesh, able to convince them all to bed her, give her pleasure and be left emptier than ever before.

But they were different. He knew it. He would give, and he would take. That was the deal. It always was.

As he took the loveliness of her body, aching for him, aroused and awaiting, he knew things would be different from now on. Maybe it was time she became only his. He was the only one still here, after so long. He deserved to be the one who got it all from her. Maybe this time around, he could convince her to do it. To make her his and only his.

But there were still so many obstacles between them, it'd be an almost impossible feat.

He approached the bed and slid between her awaiting thighs, promising himself he would get all he wanted from her once and for all, forever. And she would give it all back no matter what.

Even her stone-cold heart. Every last bit of it.

"I want it. Now," Hayley breathed as Jay approached.

She was still hot from the climax that had just rocked through her, causing her to grind into his wet mouth, pressing herself hard against him. Now he stalked over to her, all muscle and hard cock. She realized she wanted him with everything she was, and she wanted every inch of him inside her. So when he brushed the mouth of her sex with his own, teasing her lightly, she bucked forward, taking in the length of him within her.

She let out a whimper of pleasure as he filled her completely. Warm fingers of pleasure shot out all around him, drilling into him into his very core. She was so wet she was dripping all around him, but she didn't seem to care. She held him still inside her, deep, so deep. Then she slowly began to rock her pelvis up and down, carefully, slowly... and then... she screamed out as a mammoth orgasm flooded her body. Her head flattened back against the bed, and she whimpered. He was so deep, so hard inside her, ready for more when he took ahold of her legs roughly, spreading them wide, and slammed into her hard.

"Oh, fuck, oh, god!" she cried, as if she was feeling this magnificent fuck for the very first time. She put her hands over her head, grasping the headboard to brace herself while Jay continued fucking her. He picked up the pace, bending her legs over and pounding hard inside her, each thrust bringing her closer and closer until she screamed again, and fresh pleasure rushed around his beating cock.

It was so hot and blissful inside her. She bucked into his thrusting, losing all sense of herself. A throaty growl emitted from her mouth, and she clawed at his chest, scratching the skin, and digging her nails into it.

He loved the pain. It was sweet torture during sex, and only made him harder.

"Dammit," he cried, moaning as his climax approached. He pumped furiously into her until he cried out, "Yes! Fucking yes, Hayley!"

His body shuddered and slammed against her one last time. A hot, bursting sensation deep inside her made her breathe out as it filled her, pulsating and full of heat.

Jay collapsed on top of her, breathing harsh, ragged breaths. "Oh my god, Hayley. I've missed you so much, baby." He pulled her closer, face to face.

Even though they had just shared the most intimate of all things, she was surprised and touched by this tender admission. She wanted to tell him she missed him too. She wanted to tell him things that would equal his passion, but really, she just didn't remember.

So instead she cradled his head against her naked breasts, feeling his heart beating in a flurry within him, relishing the closeness. She liked this. This was something worth remembering.

Chapter Twelve

"Just stand there so I can look at you," Hayley said breathlessly.

She was flat on her back, staring up at his muscled form. He was illuminated by the clear moonlight streaming in from the window on the opposite wall.

My god, he's like a god.

All thoughts of escape seemed to drift away as she took in his gorgeous body. He smiled, and it was in that smile where she saw years of history and something far deeper than lust. It was love. This man loved her. A shiver went through her at the thought. It was disturbingly personal... and intense.

He stretched his back, and she watched those perfect abs twist and ripple. All hard muscle covered in ink. From atop his delicious pecs and over his shoulders wound intricate tattoo work. From a distance it looked like tribal work, but here in the cool blue light of the moon she saw it was much more detailed than that. Every swooping stroke, every spiral, and indeed, every sharp edge was filled with an intricate web of lines and symbols. It was breathtaking to behold. A masterpiece of artwork over a truly perfect canvas.

She wondered if any of it meant anything more than just art.

The sight of him there, all muscles and tattoos and smelling of sex, was overwhelming, and without knowing why, she felt a tear come to her eye and pressure in her sinuses. What is this? She was completely vulnerable without her memories. It wasn't pleasant, and she needed to know the reasons why she felt that way.

"Jay, I—"

She never got to finish the thought. From the window behind her she heard a tiny tink of glass breaking. Right before one of Jay's cheeks erupted in a bright gash of blood.

"Fuck!"

"Jay!" she squealed, as he cried out in pain.

"On the floor!" he roared at her, dropping down to the old wood planks. His face was gushing blood all over the place, but he ignored it.

"Oh shit, oh shit! What do I do?" She pressed to the floor as they were showered in glass and debris. Bullets whizzed overhead, slamming into the back wall and spraying drywall all over them.

"Calm the fuck down!" he yelled, then reconsidered when he caught her widening eyes. "I have to get my gun from my bag in the closet over there." He motioned, tilting his head in the direction behind him. The closet too was bathed in the same moonlight that had betrayed his position.

"But... they'll see you!" she cried, afraid to move.

"It'll be fine!" he hissed. "I'm bleeding too much though; we won't be able to hide with me leaking all over the damn place. I need you to army crawl into the bathroom. There's a big metal first aid box under the sink. Drag it in here."

She nodded nervously.

"Go, now, and for god's sake, stay low to the ground."

"Ok, ok," she said, starting to hyperventilate.

"Hey," Jay whispered, touching her shoulder. It was painful to look at him, with his cheek torn open and blood pooling beneath him, but she locked eyes with him, and in his gaze he held her, took her in his strong arms and squeezed her tightly. "I'm going to take care of you. It's just a scratch."

Hayley nodded, and for whatever reason, she knew he would. Something told her that this man, rock-hard sex god and trained killer, would die to keep her safe. With the comfort of his words in her ears, she set off at a slow crawl. The old wood floor scraped against her breasts, and twice she felt slivers stabbing their way into her knees. She swallowed down the pain and crawled, inch by careful inch. Now she was hearing sounds outside, sounds other than the desert night. She heard low murmurs in a language she didn't understand and the sound of bodies moving just outside the cabin. Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit!

Just stay low and focus on what you're supposed to do. She finally reached the bathroom—thank god the door was open—and pulled open the under-sink cabinet. Sure enough, there was a big white metal first aid kit. She dragged it out, trying and failing not to let the metal clang on the wood floor. She was backing out of the bathroom when someone grabbed her leg.

"Ahh!" she started to shriek, but stopped when Jay hushed her.

"It's just me," he said, sliding up into the doorframe by her. There was a bathroom window, but it was made of opaque blocks of thick glass. Jay propped himself up a little. "Okay, I need you to dress this wound as best as you can."

"But I can't see shit, Jay." The moonlight that filtered through the tiny window was insufficient for the task.

"Well, you're just going to have to. Grab a big non-stick dressing and a roll of tape."

She did as he said, tearing open the big bandage.

"All right, stick it right on my face, over the wound, and hold it there."

She did, wincing as he grimaced in pain when she applied pressure to the large, fresh laceration. The bandage immediately starting absorbing blood, but it did slow it down. Facial wounds bled so much, even if it was just a small slice. How did she know this? She wasn't a doctor or nurse. Something told her she knew a lot more about wounds and injuries than she cared to recall.

"I don't think this is going to be enough to stop the bleeding, Jay."

"It will be fine," he said, silencing her. "There are no arteries in the cheeks, so we just need to staunch it until it can be sewn up." As she held the bandage in place, Jay started the tape and wound it around his head and over the bandage twice. "There, that should hold even if it gets soaked. This tape is sticky-ass shit."

He looked like a war casualty now, like in the movies. Yet somehow, still sexy as hell.

"I can hear them right outside the cabin, Jay."

"I know. Are you scared?"

"I am," she said meekly.

Jay let out a sigh. "There's not a single person in Las Vegas I can't handle on my own."

"But a whole group of them?"

He nodded. "That is the problem. That is the problem," he mumbled to himself. "Stay here," he said and slipped back into the bedroom. He came back a moment later with the sweats and shirt they'd picked up for her at a discount shop on the way there and tossed them in her direction. He also gripped a pair of black sweat pants, which he slid onto his muscled legs.

"It's only fifty degrees out there, but these will be better than nothing."

Hayley nodded, watching with disappointment as he covered up. He was one fine man, and every bit of flesh he exposed she had savored. It had felt so good inside her.

"Hey," he whispered, catching her staring. He leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. "There'll be time for more of that later; get those clothes on." He winked.

Her face turned scarlet, and she looked away as she grabbed the sweats, hoping he didn't see her embarrassment in the dark. Hurriedly, she dressed. "So what now?"

Jay pulled up his small, black shaving bag. Only it wasn't a shaving kit. Inside was a nine millimeter semi-automatic pistol, a couple of magazines, and two dark, pear-shaped objects that looked like—

"Are those grenades?" she hissed, suddenly terrified. As if the guys outside the cabin weren't enough.

"Concussion grenades. Pretty much really loud frickin' fireworks. These are our ticket out of here."

"How?"

"Well, the douchebags outside are either relying on their night vision scopes or simply their night vision. Either way"—he paused, holding one of the grenades up—"these are going to fuck up their world. Follow me."

They army crawled to the front door. For a brief moment, her leg passed in front of a strip of moonlight on the floor, and she heard another tink of glass followed by a thick thud when a bullet slammed into the floor next to her.

"Be careful!" he whispered. Then they heard the sound of a radio by the front door. "Shit, they know we're heading that way."

Hayley was terrified, sliding across the floor behind Jay, watching his muscled ass as he pulled his body along in front of her. At least it was a good view. He waved her up to him and pulled himself to a sitting position with his back to the wall right by the door. She pulled up next to him.

"Listen," he whispered. She could hear the nervousness in his voice. "There are going to be two eagle-eyes out there sniping, one in the back, one in the front. As soon as this goes off, everything is going to go batshit for about ten seconds. Just hold onto me, and whatever you do, don't stop running."

Hayley was nodding, her eyes flitting around the room. He reached out and took her chin in his hand.

"That's all we have, Hayley."

For some reason, the sound of him saying her name filled her with warmth and hope.

"So follow closely behind me. They'll be expecting us to go for the car, but we're not."

"Where are we going then?"

"You'll see. Just stay close."

"Okay," she huffed. He could be so bossy, but she was damn glad he knew what he was doing. Or at least he sounded like he did. It just made him seem that much sexier to her.

"All right, here we go," he whispered. "One, two, three." On three, he yanked the door open half a foot. As soon as he did, it was peppered with gunfire—close-range gunfire. He tossed out one grenade then slammed the door back shut as several bullets tore into the room.

"Hayley, cover your ears," he cried, then tucked into a ball with his hands pressed against the sides of his head.

She squeezed her hands to her ears as hard as possible. When the grenade went off, the loud concussive blast blew into her and smashed into her brain. Even with her ears plugged it felt and sounded like someone had smashed her head in and blasted an air horn into her ears at the same time.

"Holy shit!" she screamed. Then Jay grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. He opened the door, saw the smoke and several bodies in pain on the ground, then they were running, sprinting over the gravelly earth. As they ran, he flicked the last grenade behind them.

"Eyes and ears!" he screamed.

Hayley screamed as she ran blindly, covering her ears. The grenade went off, blasting them forward once again. The world fell silent before a violent ringing whooshed through her head.

Hayley's heart beat madly as she pounded after him, desperately trying to keep up with his lithe form. Five seconds passed, ten seconds, then the ground at their feet erupted in gunfire. It seemed to come from every direction, and it was getting closer. The bombardment of noise slammed into them, and she winced as her ears opened to the painful eruption.

"Jay! They're going to hit us!"

"No, they're not!" And at that moment he changed course, dragging her straight toward another cabin. It took the snipers a moment to readjust, and in that time he had pulled her behind the back of the building. There was an enclosure that held the campground's smelly dumpster.

"Stay right here. I don't think they can see us."

He left her standing against the back wall of the cabin. Her chest was heaving with exertion and fear. Copper-tasting phlegm filled her throat, and she fought the reflex to cough it out. Holy god, how did I get into this? Can't I just have amazing sex without everyone trying to kill me?

Jay kicked through the door of the wood shed enclosing the dumpster. Chained inside was a big Yamaha VMAX motorcycle. He snagged the key from a hidden spot in the fence, and the bike's big 1700 cc engine roared to life. He hit the gas and came spinning out of the enclosure.

"Jump on, now," he called to Hayley, who was watching him with wide eyes. Just the sight of him, all muscled and tattooed up, hunkered over the big bike, made her insides twist in sweet, warm honey.

"Goddammit! What the hell are you doing, Hayley? Get on!" he yelled.

"Okay!" she snapped, hopping over the back of the bike and gripping his waist in a tight embrace against his back. It was warm and firm, and she pressed her cheek into it, afraid to look around.

Would they die tonight?

"We'll never get away," she whispered, shutting her eyes.

"Yes, we will. Quit it."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" There was no way he'd heard her over the snapping gunshots.

Jay laughed. "I've known you since you were a child, Hayley. You're either excited, horny or despaired. Always one of those."

"Hmph. Fuck you," she grumbled, then the VMAX's motor roared beneath her. He revved the engine up high, pushing the rpms until they reached his desired point. Bullets began to rain down around them—the hunters had caught up to them. Jay slammed the bike into gear, and 113 foot-pounds of torque tore into the desert beneath them, peppering the men running toward them with high speed gravel, like jagged bullets. The tire caught, and the big bike launched into the air, wheelieing up high under the full-throttle acceleration.

Holy shit, I'm going to pee my pants! Hayley thought, gripping Jay's torso with all her strength, her nails cutting into his chiseled sides. The bike set down and pounded away from the campground, straight into the black desert. It was the most exhilarating thing she had ever felt, almost as good as sex. Bullets continued to snap through the air around them, but Jay was juking and turning the bike, maneuvering in a serpentine way that prevented the gunmen from getting a good lock on them.

The desert beneath them roughened; rocks and sagebrush peppered the landscape, making their path coarse. Hayley looked down and saw the heavy, knobby tires on the bike chew into the earth easily. But the sound of the bike was blending in with even louder engines behind them, and she risked a peek back to find that the men had given chase in a big Suburban.

"They're coming after us!" she screamed out. Jay frowned at her screech in his ear.

"Not for long!" he yelled back.

She thought she heard him chuckle after that last part. Then she saw why he found this entirely fatal situation so funny.

Shit!

Ahead of them on the ground loomed a long, dark shadow. Only it wasn't just a shadow, it was a steep, rocky ditch.

"Holy hell, are we going over that?" Her fear slid up her throat, ready to spew out the contents of her stomach. Jay was out of his mind.

"You know it, babe!"

He gunned the engine once more, making it lurch over the ditch while at the same time Jay expertly hauled on the risers, bringing the front end up just enough for the bike to slam down on the opposite bank. He then jerked the handlebars, slowing the bike to a stop facing the ditch, and pulled out his pistol.

The suburban was making good time chewing across the desert toward them. Jay kissed the barrel of the semi-auto and aimed toward the lights. Hayley covered her ears as he unleashed a three-round burst in the direction on the oncoming truck. The truck faltered, swerving, then straightening. Jay readjusted his stance and sent four more rounds into the big vehicle.

One of them found a target.

She couldn't see it from the distance, but a single 9mm round pierced the windshield and then cleanly through the driver's head. He slumped forward over the wheel, and Hayley could hear the horn blaring into the endless night.

Holy shit, what a fucking shot, she thought.

The truck didn't slow enough, though. In fact, it gained speed as the dead driver's foot jammed down on the accelerator. They heard panicked screams coming from inside the truck as the occupants realized they were headed straight for the ditch, and the Suburban's five-star safety features prevented any door from opening while it was in drive. There was nowhere to go but down.

Jay smirked and turned away, revving the engine before taking off once more. They sped into the night where he intended to make a long desert loop, and then go—where? He didn't know that yet and would have to figure it out. The only thing that mattered was they had gotten away in one piece.

They heard the truck crash into the ditch a few seconds later, the horn unrelenting, and Hayley could finally breathe more easily. Her heart continued its manic hammering as Jay raced across the foreboding landscape, avoiding boulders, small cacti and tumbleweeds in the desolate night, heading toward the lights of Vegas. She let herself relax and leaned against him now, exhausted by the exertions of fear and adrenaline. Her nerves were fried, and she was afraid if she really let things sink in, she'd burst into tears or start laughing hysterically.

Either one would be okay.

"Did you like that?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Fuck, no!" she shouted back, but then a pleasant twinge between her legs as she squeezed them against his hips made her reconsider. Jay was a machine. A sexy killing machine. Damn, it all was pretty exciting, she thought as the rumble of the bike's big engine numbed her body. "You might have to take me to bed again to shake this off. Like really soon."

"Ha!" he laughed. "I'm just worried about staying alive for now!"

"That's paramount, of course. Where are we going?"

"I'm working on it. I'll let you know when I figure something out."

"Great." Like that had worked out the first time around.

Chapter Thirteen

"Do you even know where you're going?" Hayley tightened her arms around his waist, feeling the cold air biting into her skin. The impenetrable darkness of the desert felt heavy until they made it to the main road and were able to turn their lights back on. Jay didn't stay on it for long, afraid they would be spotted too soon. Turning down into the neighborhoods once they reentered the Las Vegas Valley, the cloak of the residential areas hid them even more.

But it did nothing for her frozen fingers and face. They had to warm up soon. Even the desert turned into a pit of exposure if they weren't careful.

"I told you, I'll figure it out."

Coming up on a park near the other side of the desert, they spotted people still lingering in the cool evening air. Jay turned into the parking lot and parked behind a brick building holding the main trash receptacles. Turning the motorcycle off, He pushed the kickstand down and hopped off. Hayley followed suit, hugging her arms from the cold of the early winter breezes.

"I'm cold."

"Just give me a minute." His eyes darted around the dumpster's shelter, eyeing the street both ways before relaxing and leaning against the wall. "I need to get to a safe house."

"Wasn't that what the cabin was for? A safe place to rest?"

Jay scratched his head, pressing his fingers to the blood-soaked bandage on his cheek before exhaling hard into the cold night. "Yes, but I've frequented it a lot lately. We have to go to a place I rarely visit. These guys are good. I had no idea I had a tail. And for who knows how long."

"Do you have another safe house no one knows about?"

"I can't be sure of any of them now."

Hayley stepped closer, nudging his arm. He got the hint and pulled her into his embrace to let her siphon off his body heat. The cool air didn't bother him; he was used to the dry desert winters. But she was so thin, he doubted she had any kind of insulation against the elements. He rubbed her arms and hoped it would be enough to keep her warm.

"What should we do? We can't stay out here...." Her voice trailed off and shook as her lips quivered. She was fighting to keep her teeth from chattering. He could hear it in the strain of her voice. Her lips were already turning a darker shade of pink against her stark-white skin.

"I may not know of any, but you do."

Hayley's eyes widened.

"You told me something once. You made me promise to never go there unless I absolutely had to and to tell no one about it."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a complicated woman, Hayley. You never put all your eggs in one basket. There are several safe houses across North America you kept ready in case you needed to find a place to lie low. You never told anyone where they were or of their existence, except me. Even then, you never told me the exact locations of them."

"And this is helpful to us how? I don't remember where they are."

"You don't, but I know someone who can tell us where you hid the locations for yourself."

Impressed, Hayley peered up into Jay's handsome face. His features were appealing, strong willed and sexy. The bandage on his face needed to be changed badly, but it had slowed the blood flow enough that it was no longer dripping.

"How do I find this... person?"

"I'll take you there."

"How do you know they haven't gotten to them already?"

Jay cupped her chin, boring his dark eyes into her. "Because you never told anyone about them besides me."

She nodded. There wasn't much more to ask. They would find this person and maybe they would have answers for her. Something Jay no longer had.

"Why are they trying to kill us?"

Jay sighed, letting his head fall back onto the block wall. "I don't know. I didn't expect it. I'm pretty good at knowing these kinds of things and preventing them from happening. Not this time. I've been blindsided, and I have to do some digging to discover who's behind this. If they want you dead, there's no way we can return home now. If this person doesn't know anything that can help us, we're done here. On our own. We'll have to leave the country."

The thought of running again made her blood heat up in a rage. Why would someone do this to her? Had she been such a horrible person before all this happened? Who had she let down to accrue such a wrath that they'd want her dead? On top of that, they wanted Jay dead too.

They were on each other's side no matter what now.

"Who's this person we have to see? Are they here in Vegas?" she asked. Her voice was no longer frantic but an eerie calm which caused her some discomfort. It was disorienting to hear herself talk so seriously, like she had a mission, and nothing was going to stand in her way. Not a bullet, not Jay. Not even the horde of killers on their tail.

"Alejandro Mraz."

She racked her brain again to find any familiarity to that name, but found none. A man. She had trusted a man over a woman? Why did that sound strange to her? Did she not have any female friends?

"Is he close?"

"He's on the other side of town, near Sunrise Mountain. He has a few acres there and keeps himself secluded."

She peered up at Jay, taking in his determination and hoping he didn't have any hidden agendas.

"And you've never visited this man before?"

He shook his head. "No. I had no reason to check him out. You told me not to bother or speak of him again. So I didn't."

"Did you always do as I asked?"

Jay chuckled. Hayley was starting to show more and more characteristics of her old self, and it was more than amusing to see them surfacing.

"No. I didn't."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"I have no reason to lie to you."

He pulled her close and squeezed enough to make her gasp. To bystanders, it looked like they were about to kiss, but he knew Hayley understood it was more of a challenge than a lover's embrace.

Instead of looking frightened, it appeared to turn her on. Her lips were inches from him, parted and enticing him with their soft promises. Her hooded eyes twinkled with the wickedness that often passed over Madame H.'s expression every time he demanded something from her, whether it be sex, backup or cooperation. She'd made him pay for every favor he asked, and this was the same look she always gave him before she twisted the knife in his side and negotiated her own demands.

It stirred his loins, and he fought to keep it under control in the middle of this godforsaken park. If they'd been alone, he would have turned her around, ripped her sweats off and fucked her from behind. His desire burst through his insides like a violent storm, and he breathed hard and fast to keep his urge under control, nostrils flaring.

Madame H. had this effect on him all the time. She'd been the only one to evoke such a desperate response from him. Almost the only one who could make him feel anything besides the constant hollow emptiness of his non-existent soul—almost.

Maybe her old self was returning faster than either them could tell. Maybe... maybe she was lying about not remembering anything and held more expensive secrets than Fort Knox.

"I think it's time we pay this Alejandro a visit." Her lusty voice was too much to bear. He agreed and abruptly let her go. The disappointment on her face was worth it as he mounted the bike again, bringing it to life with a roar.

"Get on."

Hayley obeyed, straddling the seat behind Jay and circling her arms around his chest as he kicked the kickstand. Pushing off, they sped through the parking lot and back onto the road. He had to avoid the main road and took several turns before getting to the right one that would take them where he wanted to go.

He had lied to her about not knowing who Alejandro was. Of course he'd been curious enough to go looking for the guy after she'd told him to keep him a secret from anyone else. It'd been years ago. So long that he hadn't thought about the guy in forever. Whoever was chasing them had most definitely never heard of Alejandro Mraz.

The sound of his name infuriated Jay.

If there was any other man who'd finagled his way into Hayley's life and possibly her heart, it would probably be Alejandro. The guy ran a ranch at the edge of the city where the developers had left half-built and forgotten expanses of land, no longer bidding to construct any new housing due to the high influx of poor and lower middle class into the area. The land was riddled with patches of desert and decrepit housing which had seen better days. The eastern side of the valley was where the immigrants, down on their luck, and outsiders gathered in hopes of a better life. Far from the lights of the Las Vegas Strip, it was the best place to disappear.

Just like Alejandro.

Jay doubted the man went by his given name and hid under the guise of some pseudonym. The rancher bred horses and shipped them off to other states for those in need of them. He had a tight-knit staff kept under his iron grip. Nothing got past the guy, and no one crossed his path. When Jay had looked into him previously, he'd found a trail of carnage leading all the way back to the dredges of Juarez and farther into the center of Mexico. Cartels, drug trafficking, human trafficking and any other unsavory businesses he could get his hands into.

Now he let his capos and lieutenants run the businesses down south, sending him his due. His frequent trips to check up on his interests with his most trusted sicarios ensured things stayed running like a well-oiled machine. Alejandro wasn't one to be messed with, so Jay had avoided confronting him all those years ago. Even when he'd discovered Alejandro had been heavily involved with Hayley when Jay had taken off to work overseas for several years.

It had hurt him more than he could have ever imagined. But Hayley had never spoken of the guy again, so Jay had assumed they were through. When they got there tonight, Jay was determined to find out how close he and Hayley had really been.

Not that he was afraid of being replaced by some psychotic drug lord. He just thought he'd known everything about Hayley. Every last, miniscule secret she'd tucked away. Apparently not. Discovering she'd hidden this from him without thinking twice had cracked his confident exterior and had sent him into a profoundly reckless mood. He wanted to know why she'd hidden this relationship and not any others. Why would she do that?

The things he'd done during those dark times when he was away were forever branded into the back of his mind. He hoped it had all been worth losing Hayley to this other man.

Brushing the thought away, he turned, and the road transitioned into dirt as they got closer to the ranch. Fencing and the whinnies of horses greeted them as they rode on. Other animals called out into the night as the motorcycle disturbed their rest. After what felt like forever, they arrived at the entrance of the ranch only to be met by guns and a spotlight pointed right at them.

"Come any closer and you die, caballero. Don't fucking move."

Chapter Fourteen

Alejandro Mraz was around the same age as Hayley and Jay, but hardened from the years of ranch work and dangerous living. His skin had a deep, rich tan to it, glowing from frequent outdoor labor. His fit body showed underneath his loose shirt and snug jeans. He wore a caballero's hat and well-worn boots dusted with desert dirt. He held a shotgun pointed at their faces, mainly Jay's, and narrowed a threatening look.

"Alejandro?" Hayley stepped forward, unaware his name had come to her without thinking, but stopped in her tracks when his comrades showed up sporting their own firepower, aimed right at her.

"Whoa. It's me, Hayley. This is my friend Jay. I need your help. Please...." She held out a hand, reaching toward him, but he never wavered.

They were goners. That's what was going on here. Jay fought the urge to jump toward Alejandro, swipe the shotgun from his hands and put him in a headlock. He'd do it if he was certain he wouldn't end up with holes the size of Mars in his flesh before he even got one step in.

"Why are you here?" Alejandro asked. He lowered his gun and waited for Hayley to answer. He didn't need a weapon anymore; there were ten others pointed straight at them. Insurance in case either of them had something up their sleeves.

It'd be a damn good time to have a trick or two right now, Jay thought. But they didn't. So they waited for a miracle.

"I've come to retrieve the information I gave you years ago. You know. About my secret safe houses. You still know about them, yes?" Hayley's hands began to shake from hovering in the air too long. He felt for her. She was a strong woman, but far more fragile than anyone would expect.

Alejandro eyed her up and down, scrutinizing her sparse wardrobe and filthy knees. The both of them looked like hell, and it brought a spark of amusement to Alejandro's eyes.

"You look like hell," he said. A chuckle echoed in his band of brothers. All except for him. He glared at Jay "I remember. Why should I tell you with this... this güero next to you? You never trusted any of your henchmen. Do you want me to get rid of this imbécil?"

"Whoa, man. I'm her oldest friend. You don't have to worry about me."

One of Alejandro's lieutenants grabbed Jay and shoved him to the ground. He found himself face first in the dirt with the barrel of a shotgun digging painfully into his injured cheek and a hard boot pinning him down. Blood slid from beneath the bandage, coagulating in the dirt.

"Errr." Jay moaned, closing his eyes against the pain.

"Stop! Alejandro, please. He's trustworthy. I swear it on my life!" Hayley begged. Her panic flared up on her face as she frantically pleaded.

Alejandro focused on her, taking in her pleas with a hint of interest. He was apathetic mostly; his features rarely changed from the relentless hunter's expression. Jay was willing to bet he could skin a man without batting an eyelid.

Moments passed as Jay struggled to breathe through the pain inflicted on his face. Alejandro looked more intrigued with each second, flicking his eyes from a disheveled Hayley to the man in the dust. What a sight they must have been. Especially Hayley, after all these years.

Finally, he motioned for his guards to stand down. They moved swiftly behind Alejandro but stayed on the alert. The man had his crew well trained, Jay had to admit. But the throbbing in his face made it really hard to appreciate.

"Hayley, in the flesh." Alejandro eyed her up and down, drinking her in like a sweet cocktail. It made Jay's blood curdle. "We have much to talk about. Come with me, and we can discuss these important matters of yours."

She stepped forward into Alejandro's outstretched arms. Peering over at Jay who was dusting off his sweatpants and cursing as the blood slid down his neck from the freshly opened wound, she pulled away and pointed toward him.

"What about Jay? Promise me you won't hurt him."

Alejandro chuckled, the first true emotion they'd seen across his face. He narrowed his gaze at Jay, his eyes full of twinkling madness.

"Oh, I'll take good care of your gringo. Don't worry. My staff includes a doctor for things like that nasty gash on his face. I hope he won't be too upset about his pretty face getting all mangled." He tilted his head as he scrutinized him. "My regards. You'll need a good amount of stitches."

He tipped his hat at Jay, but the gesture didn't match the wickedness in his smile. "La doctora Jasmine will get that all straightened out for you, my friend." He hooked his arm around Hayley's waist, watching to see if Jay would lose his cool before walking away into the house.

Jay stepped forward to follow but was stopped by one of the guards. A woman.

"You're not going that way. La doctora is this way, caballero." The woman wore a military-issue camouflage outfit and spoke with a thick accent. Jay glared at her but followed her around to another wing of the expansive ranch house. He watched Hayley and Alejandro disappear through a set of doors to the main house before focusing his attention forward and following the female guard. Two other guards followed behind them; he wasn't going anywhere for now.

At least the view was pleasant. The woman clearly worked out, and her scrumptious ass moved under her snug fatigues in a most desirable manner. He'd love to squeeze the shit out of those cheeks while she rode him hard. The snickers from behind told him he wasn't the only one enjoying the view in front of them.

Hayley was on her own, but from what he'd seen so far, she wasn't going to have any issues getting what she wanted from Alejandro. The guy had it bad for her, no matter how well he hid it under the mask of a dangerous cartel leader. All Jay had to do was stay alive and under the radar while they were here. He could do that. Especially with that sexy guard and a female doctor to treat him? Why the hell wouldn't he enjoy his stay? It was almost as if they were wanting to distract him deliberately.

Somehow, Jay knew that was the plan all along. Too bad he wasn't going mind one bit of it.

Chapter Fifteen

Deputy Mason, magnanimous sadist of the rural town of Marx, Texas's police department, was deep inside Sasha Martinez. Sasha was on her hands and knees on the California king bed, Mason drilling her doggy style. He fucked her hard, not enough to hurt her, but enough that she wanted to turn and slap him.

She wished she could touch herself while he fucked her. At least pleasure from her own gentle fingers would be nice. She moaned loudly through the doggy-style fucking, for she knew the moaning drove Esmeralda mad. The woman was bucking softly on the bed and grinding her slippery sex into Sasha's mouth. Sasha didn't particularly like the taste, but at least it was better than semen. She had never gotten used to or enjoyed the overly salty, sticky male ejaculate.

Her hips moved to Mason's rhythm while her tongue made a rhythm of its own, bringing Esmeralda closer and closer to orgasm before backing off, teasing her, and bringing the heat back up again. It was sweet torture, she knew, because that's how she was taught. As she was fucked by her captors, Sasha thought back to life in Mexico.

At the age of fourteen, her father had been injured in a farming accident. He survived but lost his leg and his livelihood. Her mother passed on when she was just a young child, so her father, his fourteen-year-old daughter and her younger brother, who was only ten, were left fending for themselves. Now they faced the real possibility of starvation. There was no welfare to assist them, no food stamps and no sympathy. For two weeks she had begged for food outside the local churches and managed enough to sustain her and her brother, but her father's health declined quickly.

That's when she made the "big decision." Sasha knew about the street girls, and she knew how they were treated. No girl wanted to be one of them. But those girls were paid for the things they endured. And that money bought food. And food could feed her family. It wasn't difficult to start. She had seen one of those girls who wore a jean skirt that was too short and a top that showed her belly and formed to her large bosom, attracting all sorts of unsavory types of guys. So, at night, after she tucked her brother in, she sought the girl out.

The girl was only sixteen, not much older than Sasha. When she saw Sasha coming, somehow she knew. She was shaking her head when Sasha walked up to her, and before she even spoke, the woman said, "No quieres esto."

But then the girl, who in the eyes of the men who took her saw her as a woman, noticed the desperation in Sasha's eyes.

"My family will starve. Please, won't you help me?"

The woman reached out to her and touched her face. Sasha was beautiful. She had long, burgundy locks that were almost unheard of in Mexico and smooth light-brown skin. Her waist was tiny, and her breasts were already developed and ample for her age.

"Are you sure? It can be dangerous. Very dangerous and unpleasant."

"Do you make a lot of money?"

"No. But I make enough that I don't starve, and neither does mi abuela."

"What about your parents?"

"They were killed in a car accident when I was just a niñita."

Sasha nodded, feeling solidarity with this girl through their mutual suffering.

"My name is Anna." The woman held out a small hand. It had a few tiny scars on it. She too was a beautiful girl. Her face was round, and her cheeks were full compared to Sasha's thin face, but her eyes were large, and her lips were full, something the men liked very much. Especially when she stained it with her dark red lipstick and wrapped it around their cocks. At least, that's what Anna told her. Her belly was a little larger than Sasha's, which she would discover later was because there was a bastard child inside her.

As Sasha licked and sucked Esmeralda's more tender parts, she thought about her first time having sex. It was with Anna. Anna told her that she would do it with her for her first time, because it would hurt less. So she did it to her with a finger, rough and hard, just like how the boys liked to do it. The pain was sharp, and the burn was much more than she'd anticipated, but after that first time, she never felt it again. She was an instant hit with all the men of the neighborhood, who all wanted a chance to defile her virgin body, making her bleed, making her scream, making her cry. Sickeningly, the more she reacted, even if it was in a faked pain, the more they liked it. She learned to act, she learned to lie to gain what she wanted by giving these men their innermost desires no matter how vile, violent and sadistic these wants were.

Then, when she was eighteen years old, her brother threw himself off a water tower, killing himself. There was no warning. Sasha never knew why he had done it. She suspected her father's constant put downs and name-calling abuse had worn him down. That and the niños at school chastising him for his impoverished life. Regardless, Sasha blamed her father for her brother's death.

One night, while her unloving father slept, she took one of her brother's pillows and held it against his face until he stopped breathing. She had already paid a coyote five thousand American dollars to help her cross into Texas. She would leave no strings behind.

Goodbye to the streets of Mexico. Hello to a new life in the states.

The crossing was frightening but uneventful. What followed was not. Instead of being released, as they'd told everyone who paid in full would be when they arrived, she was taken to a "safe house" where she would be kept only for a week, they said, to make sure the coast was clear. A week turned into three months, and the safe house turned into a prison cell where she was kept between forced rapes. The worst of it was, now having escaped Mexico, was that she was still having to fuck strangers, only now they were fat, white men with tiny dicks, and she wasn't even getting paid for it.

So the story went until she was considered too old, tossed from pimp to pimp, whorehouse to whorehouse, until she'd outgrown her stay.

Her last move had been into the basement of the pig cop's home, when she became a regular in their bedtime antics, a regular who had apparently run out of time. She snapped out of her memories just in time to hear Mason calling out that he was "Fucking coming!" Her heart pounded. She knew she had to make her move now.

The cord that had bound her hands had been removed and now just dangled from a thick knot at one wrist. There was at least three feet of the nylon cordage. As quickly as she could, she wound the loose end around her other fist, and just in time. A moment later, like he always did, Mason started to flop onto her back, exhausted, and he would let his body drape over hers while he kissed and bit her ears. Not this time though. She had a surprise for him.

When his body flopped down onto her, Sasha heaved up with her strong core, raising her two hands up over her head and hooking the nylon cord under his chin. He was still in mid-flop, and his weight brought his head down into her noose. As he crushed down on her, she pulled against the cord with all her might, strangling him with same the nylon rope that had been used to bind her. Because he was smashed against her, Mason had no defense and no way to strike her, just his awful crushing weight on her back, but years of abuse at the hands of much bigger men than him had made her strong and resilient.

Five seconds went by, and Esmerelda sat up, wondering why the cunnilingus had stopped.

"Oh my god! What the fuck? Let him go! Let him go right now you... you bitch! I'll kill you, I'll kill you!" She screamed at Sasha, but Sasha didn't move, hearing the life slowly burble out of Deputy Mason.

At least he got to go out fucking. I might too, she thought, especially when the Latin woman pulled out a snub-nosed .38 from one of Mason's drawers. She has no idea how to use it, Sasha decided as the woman fumbled to cock a hammer that didn't need to be cocked. She pointed the gun at Sasha, only a few feet away. She was trembling and terrified.

"Let him go you fucking crazy puta!"

Okay, the dice are in my hand, fuck it, let 'em roll!

"He will die tonight, you filthy cunt!" she spat at Esmerelda, her thick accent somehow making the words drip with even more menace. To her credit, Esmeralda responded like a badass.

"No... you will die!" She pulled the trigger, and the room filled with a flash and a roar, and Esmerelda was flung back by the .357 mag round that had been chambered into the little gun. Then the deafening sound receded, and Sasha knew she was still alive.

Mason was not though. His head was blown apart, brains and blood dripping down over her neck and head. Holy shit, the crazy bitch shot him instead of me. Well, there were only inches between them. Sasha shoulder rolled him off onto the floor, his body flopping violently on the ground with a thump. By now, Esmeralda was on her feet, trying to figure out what had happened, but then a dropkick from Sasha sent her flying into the drywall behind her where her head hit a corner and bounced forward. Sasha pried the gun from the now unconscious woman's hands then shoved it deep into her mouth, undeterred by the teeth she was knocking out.

"Someday, when I am in hell, we can relive this moment together. Until then...." Sasha pulled the trigger, her hands steady and her focus sharp as ever. The gun bucked in her hands, shattering Esmeralda's teeth as its payload blew out of the back of her skull. The woman was deader than a rat. Sasha stood, sticky blood, brains and gore all over her naked body. At last, she was free. Free for the first time since she'd come to the land of freedom. How ironic was that?

Now I can start my new life, she thought as she stood there, shivering under the cooling wetness and bloodstains. A new life with none of this bullshit. But first... first she was going to right some wrongs. She had paid her way here and had still been turned into a slave. She intended to find every last person responsible for this treatment. If a girl wanted to be a whore, so be it, it was her damn body, but nobody, no one, should be a damn slave. Someone headed this operation, and that person was going to pay for every wrong done to Sasha and every rape she'd incurred by trusting these bastards.

"I will kill them all," she said to the blood stained room. Only silence answered.

I will kill them all.

Chapter Sixteen

Alejandro led Hayley through his beautiful home, giving her the grand tour and history behind all the authentic decor. It was nostalgic, like a Mexican adobe villa. The plaster walls and variety of old country items warmed the interior and made it feel homey. Though it contained sleek and modern amenities, the house still held the air of a Mexican ranch. It was furnished with high-end couches, chairs and appliances, but the tile that covered the long counters and islands was traditional with its bright colors and imperfect surfaces. It was a remarkable blend of the old and the new and was kept immaculately clean considering the dusty outdoors.

As they passed a large bay window, Hayley saw what looked like another, longer house off to the side and behind them. She wanted to question him about it, but she still hadn't figured out if his welcome was genuine or if she should be terrified.

Just keep on your toes.

Alejandro pushed open a large door made of huge wood slats and bolted together with iron straps. It looked like it belonged in a castle.

"Is this your room?"

Alejandro hesitated then waved her in. "This is the guest room, for our most honored guests." As soon as she entered, the door closed behind her. Alejandro backed against it.

"There is no way out of this room, senorita."

A nervous flutter began in her stomach. "Should I be worried about escaping?"

"Take your clothes off, now." Alejandro's eyes were hard, his words cold as steel. It lacked the furious desire she expected from someone making such demands.

"Hell no! I'm not here as a booty call for you, Alejandro." She tried to sound tough, but then Alejandro pulled a large pistol from behind his back.

"Take them off, now. This will be your last warning."

Hayley trembled then finally decided she just didn't have the energy to fight him. If he was going to rape her, kill her, whatever, then so be it. After the shootout earlier, she was just... done. So she stripped. She didn't do it slowly or sexily. She whipped her clothes off, tossing them into a pile. They were shredded and dirty from the previous struggle anyway and weren't even hers. She didn't bother to straighten her back or tighten her belly, those things she normally did automatically when in a romantic situation. Fuck him though.

"Turn around in a circle."

Hayley put her hands on her hips. "Really?"

A flick of the pistol, though, and she complied, twirling slowly in front of him. Then, as a bonus, she raised one leg and hopped in place, then the other, mocking him with her compliance.

Alejandro looked satisfied. Hayley didn't know why, but he did. He replaced his pistol and took a step toward her then lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes.

"Sit down, Madame."

Hayley sat back on the bed, her eyes never leaving his. The defiance and venom that brimmed to their surface might have easily been mistaken for tears by a man not as smart as Alejandro. But he was not that kind of man.

"What do you want?"

"I would rather not use the gun, Madame, so do not lie to me."

"I, uh... okay."

"You are not wearing a wire, and I just received a text that your sidekick out there has no transmitting equipment on him either."

"Of course not. We're not cops or something."

"Then tell me, Madame, what in the fucking hell are you doing here?" His voice had risen a notch. "Riding to my home. My home! In the middle of the damn night! Making all of my people come out on high alert to protect the house. Babbling about secrets that no one should be hearing out loud, secrets you know better than anyone, not me! There are bullet holes in that motorcycle, and there are most certainly people looking for you. You're a mess. My kids are right down the goddamn hall, puta. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I—I—kids?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell is wrong with you? Tell me the truth, and be careful, because these words may be your last." He sat in a chair in the corner and held the gun up to remind her of its presence.

Hayley took several deep breaths, centering herself. The truth was all she had. "Alejandro, something happened to me, something traumatic, and I have lost my memory."

"Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit. I woke up two days ago, and I had killed a man in Texas. I have no memory of anything. This guy Jay found me, said we were close. I'm in danger. A bunch of guys with big guns came and tried to kill us tonight, and we barely escaped. And I just don't know what to fucking do! I swear I don't even remember you. Jay said you might be able to help me get to a safe house that I told you about a long time ago. I don't remember anything though, so I don't know. Can you help me?"

Alejandro's face softened a little. "This is pretty unbelievable, wouldn't you say?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess I would. But it's all I have right now. Jay knew I had a friend named Alejandro and that you helped me before. That's why he brought me here. I'm so sorry. I did not mean to cause your family trouble. I really am sorry."

Alejandro nodded. "You must have been close to that gringo to tell him about me, Hayley," he said, startling her by using her first name. "You're in a lot of trouble in Vegas. It's been all over the circuits. You are a prized possession, dead or alive."

She swallowed hard.

"Can you tell me anything about it?"

"I will tell you what I know, and that isn't much." Alejandro sat next to her on the bed. She felt oddly at ease next to him, even though she was naked. He felt... comfortable.

"You are a slave trader, Hayley. You sell sex and women to bad men all over this country, and in truth, the world. The rumor is that you took payment for a big delivery then never produced the girls. This got some dangerous men very angry. Saudis, I believe, though I can't be certain. So they came here to confront you about this problem because you have their money, you see. No goods, no money, no girls. That's a dangerous game to play."

Hayley nodded. "So this is all because someone didn't get their women they wanted to enslave and rape?"

A crinkle formed in Alejandro's eyes, and he smiled. "Señora, you really don't remember who you are at all. These women, they are not people to your clients, they are products. The products must be clean, healthy and ready to perform. You house a lot of women, ready for sex, ready for sale. If the order was big enough, you might be talking about millions of dollars you owe these Saudis."

"Do I have that kind of money?"

"I'm sure you do. The Saudis are just the tip of the iceberg though."

She groaned.

"Indeed. You have a lot of competition. A lot of very unsavory, cruel people who have been waiting a long time for you to slip so they can take control of the lion's share of the sex business. I'm willing to bet that your Saudi clients and your competition are in collusion now. In short, you are fucked, right and good."

"Will you help us?"

"I will help you, Hayley. Shower and sleep, and tomorrow morning I will send you on your way to safety with a vehicle and guns. You will go into hiding, in your so-called secret safe house you made me promise to never tell anyone about, and you will confront your demons. There are clothes, guns and all you need here to disappear, as you requested I keep ready at all times. You will tell no one where you have been or who you have seen. Do you understand me?"

Hayley nodded somberly. "Thank you, Alejandro."

His mouth was a hard line. "Hayley, I would be careful about trusting that man you are with. I know his face. He is a killer for hire. He is dangerous and wasn't always on your side, like he claims."

"Aren't you dangerous too?"

He let out a brief chuckle. "I am, but a family man now, chica. I live on my ranch, run a business, and take care of my children."

"What about their mother?" The question burned on her lips, but she felt she had to ask.

He gave her a long look that was strange, unnerving almost, full of an intensity she could feel in the depths of her soul. He shook his head a little. "Their mother isn't involved in their lives. It's what she wanted."

With that, Alejandro left. Hayley watched him go then staggered, naked and exhausted, to an enormous shower. The filth of the day swirled down the drain mixed with blood from Jay's wound and minor scrapes and cuts she'd received while on the run. The soap stung every bit of her skin, matching the stab of realization that her life was anything but honorable. She was the monster, not Jay, not Alejandro or those crazy gunmen trying to off her the moment she slipped up. She was the beast she feared the most, and it was no wonder she had run so far to forget who she was.

But the steamy water only did so much. She scrubbed her body raw like it was the only way to slough off the past, with the stinging stroke of the sponge. Her body ached in all the wrong places, and she hadn't even gotten another good fuck to relish as she nodded off the way she would've liked. Finishing up in the shower, she wrapped a large body towel around her bruised body. Wiping the mirror to contemplate her reflection, she didn't see an innocent woman trying to run away from blood, death and darkness. No, there was someone else peering back at her, amused and waiting to resurface from her temporary slumber with a crazed cackle.

I'll be back soon. Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. They all will pay for what they've done. I swear it.

Hayley gasped, backing away and almost slipping on the wet tile floor. Glancing back at the mirror, all she found was her scared, wild eyes reflecting back this time. The murderous woman was gone, and there was no one else in the bathroom with her.

I'm losing my damn mind!

Who am I kidding? I've already lost it.

Sliding into the large, comfortable yet unfamiliar bed, she wept into her wet tresses. The soft comforter warmed her body, but there was nothing and no one else there to ignite the cold within. Wiping the tears onto the pillow, she then reached over to turn off the one lamp illuminating the old Mexican decor. In the unquestioning darkness, she squeezed her eyes shut until sleep overtook her. She was tired. Tired of the violence, tired of herself.

The funny part was that after meeting Alejandro—whose naked body now occupied her dreams in an oddly familiar way, filling her with sweet loving—she never even wondered what was happening to Jay.

Chapter Seventeen

"Whoa, tell me that's not for me." Jay held up a hand when the beautiful Latina doctor named Jasmine held out a curved needle and thread. Sure he had a gash on the side of his eyebrow now from being manhandled and his cheek continued to throb and ooze with blood, but there was no way he needed stitches. She had already washed off the copious amount of clotted blood that had dripped down his brow and face. That had been torturous enough, and fresh blood was already seeping from the wounds.

Okay, so maybe he did need stitches. Still, the needle looked like it was made for a horse's hide.

"Just don't move or you'll lose an eye, güero," she snapped in a heavy accent. He nodded, afraid of her threat coming true. He was a badass and could chop up a body for disposal, but needles were not a strong point for him. It turned him into a wuss he didn't care to be.

And tattoo needles didn't count.

"Okay."

"This might sting a bit. Whatever you do, hold still."

He held his breath, focusing on the doctor's pretty face as the needle entered his skin. She had shot him up with lidocaine at the site, and that had been hell to bear too, even though it had numbed the area well. The tugging and the constant clicking of the hemostat opening and closing along with the flash of the curved needle had his empty stomach in a flurry. He tried to think of something else while she worked.

"So how do you know this Alejandro?" he asked. When moments passed and Jasmine didn't answer, he figured she had to concentrate to work or didn't want to answer.

She stepped back, eyeing the wound to make sure the ends met. Then she broke the silence abruptly before starting on the gash on his cheek.

"He helped me save my sister when she was kidnapped and brought to the states. I was a nurse back in Juarez, the murder capital of Mexico, and I helped a lot of criminals with gunshots, stabbings and other kinds of injuries for extra money. You take whatever you can get down there. My skills were in demand, and he helped me find her. In return, I work as a medic for him."

"I bet. That all you do for him?" He sniffed, and she glared at him, giving a hard tug at one last stitch. It stung and made his eyes water. "Ouch!"

"I told you not to move. Now I have to redo the last stitch."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You can never be sorry. Just do as you're told."

"Yes, ma'am." Jay smiled at her, amused. Her feistiness attracted him, and the slight blush on her tanned cheeks let him know she didn't really care if he was moving or not and was enjoying the view too.

He cleared his throat. "So, Jasmine. You stay here because you owe him a debt?"

The final click of the scissors she now held up told him she was done. She stepped back and admired her handiwork. Pleased, she replaced the tools back on the surgical tray sitting next to her and she grabbed a small packet, ripped it open and squeezed out an ointment before smearing it on his brow and cheek.

"There. Done. I put antibiotic ointment on it so don't touch it. In fact, I'll put a bandage on it until you shower to keep it clean." She slapped on two large bandages, still acting like she hadn't heard him. She ripped off her gloves and was about to toss them away when he reached out and caught her wrist. The female guard, who'd been watching the entire thing off to one side, stepped forward. Jasmine waved her off.

"It's okay. I'm all right Carmen." So that was the fine guard's name with the luscious ass. Jay had to remember that for later. Jasmine lifted an eyebrow and motioned to her wrist. "Let go."

"You didn't answer my question."

She sighed, tightening her lips. "I don't owe anyone anything, anymore. I stay here out of choice. I live a good life here, and he pays me handsomely. Now, if you would kindly let me go, I'll show you to your room."

He let go and winked at the guard, who narrowed her eyes at him. "Sounds good. I'm beat."

Jasmine led him out of the room, followed by Carmen. He hoped they would be joining him in the shower when they got to the room. His cock was already throbbing at the thought. Two fine Latina women to satisfy his every whim. Now that was customer service!

"Here you go." Jasmine showed him to a large room at the end of a hallway and out of sight from the other parts of the house. Jay walked in and examined the digs. A king-size bed with fluffy down pillows and comforter beckoned him to lie down and doze off. Lord knew he could. But first, a nice hot shower or soak in the tub would set his sore muscles right again.

"Wow, nice place you guys got here. I have to admit, I didn't think Alejandro would be so forthcoming. I mean, this place is like a fortress. I honestly thought...." He turned around and held his arms up. Jasmine shut the door and held a gun pointed at his chest. Carmen was in the same position, with her machine gun ready and loaded.

Shit.

"Take your clothes off," Jasmine demanded, motioning for him to hurry. "Don't try anything funny. It just takes one bullet."

"Whoa, now. No need for that." Jay began slipping his clothes off until he stood stark naked before the two fierce women. "What's this about?"

"Lie on the bed," the doctor's voice demanded from behind, but he didn't move until the iron cold tip of Carmen's gun jabbed him in the rib.

"All right, I'm going." He walked slowly to the bed and laid down. The moment he laid back on the pillows, the women put their guns down, reached out and tied his wrists to the headboard.

"What the...?" It would be a turn-on if they weren't armed. Nonetheless, they did the same thing to his ankles before he could protest further. He flicked his eyes between the women, widening them when he found them both stripping down to their bare skins and giving him a pair of wicked smiles.

Carmen reached over and slipped the bolt lock into place, checking the door and turning back to Jasmine, who closed the distance between them and kissed the guard hard on her mouth while giving Carmen's breasts and nipples a squeeze. His cock rose in response, heating up as his excitement increased. These ladies were lovers, and they were giving him a torturous show. So not fair.

Then Carmen pulled away from Jasmine, headed to one side of the bed and pulled out a blindfold from the bedside table.

"Relax, gringo," Jasmine's voice whispered into his ear menacingly. "It will only hurt a little bit. Remember to breathe."

The world darkened as she tied the cloth around his head. It was snug enough he couldn't see anything with it on. The darkness of the room and their silence ticked off his alarms.

"What do you mean by 'a little bit'?" The panic in his voice was unmistakable. He had to keep his cool, because if he didn't, there would be no mercy.

A second later, a ball gag was shoved into his mouth and secured. He gagged and tried to tongue it out to no avail. Then he felt it, a small metallic object sliding across his chest. Its frigid wake sent terror across his mind as he realized it was a slender knife. Maybe a scalpel? Then one of them took his cock into her mouth, sucking hard and wetting his manhood to keep it nice and firm, jerking him off at the same time.

Holy shit. They were going to rape, or maim, or kill him. He wasn't sure which one it would be, and the sheer thrill and horror of it all was downright hot in a sick and twisted way. He hoped it wouldn't be either of the latter two as the women continued to have their way with him.

He felt the frigid metal knife once more drag across his stomach and did his damnedest to keep his breathing under control.

Oh, god, put the damn knife away....

He couldn't see them, but he could feel them, and damn, could he feel them. Jay felt every sensation heightened as the two deadly, sexy women played their game. The light was still on in the room, but he could see nothing through his blindfold, which was a supple, soft leather. He was scared, naked and hard as a rock.

The two women giggled at a spattering of words they spoke in Spanish. God, they sounded sexy as hell. Jay felt a hot, wet mouth descend on his cock again, slowly moving up and down. Then a warm vibration rang through him, and he realized the woman was humming with him still in her mouth. His hips started to rhythmically follow her movement, increasing the delicious pleasure rolling through him. He was breathing hard when the ball gag was roughly ripped off his face.

He gasped.

"What—" he started to say, then he was slapped in the face. Hard. Hard as shit, actually.

"Don't speak," came Carmen's low, sultry, voice. He felt her moving around by his head and suddenly he could smell the sweetness of her sex right above him. She must be straddling my face, he thought, and his own sex throbbed at the thought.

"You listen carefully, gringo. You're going to go down. You're going to do it good. And if you do it good enough, you might live to see the morning."

The woman sucking his cock stopped for a moment, with him deep inside her. The pleasure was painfully intense.

"But if you don't do good, gringo...."

He heard and felt her shift over him and felt the cold steel of the knife cuddle up under his neck. Jesus, he thought, she's pushing too hard! Jay couldn't see it, but a line of blood had formed under the blade.

"If you don't do good, I will cut your pink throat."

Holy fuck. The woman between his legs gave a giggle and snaked a hand under him and pinched his butt. His hips jerked involuntarily, thrusting him deeper into her mouth. She moaned around him, and he could picture his cock filling that sexy Latina mouth, filling every bit of it. He wanted to fuck that mouth hard. He wanted to come in that mouth.

Reading his mind, Carmen's deadly voice drifted down to him.

"Maybe, gringo, if you are good." Carmen chuckled at herself and lowered down onto Jay's mouth. He opened it wide, inviting her sex in. His lips closed around her vagina, and he sucked gently and slid his tongue into her. She was wet and sweet. God, she tasted like fucking candy, and soon he was ramming his tongue as far into her as he could, desperate for more of her sweetness. She rocked on top of his face, grinding against him. Every few seconds he retracted his tongue and pulled her clit into his mouth, sucking the tiny organ up and flicking his tongue over it, softly at first, then harder.

She responded by grinding straight down onto him. With her clit still in his mouth and his tongue flicking up and down faster and faster, he started to moan, letting the sound waves vibrate her clit even more, like a sonic dildo. That did it. She cried out in Spanish something he didn't understand then jerked against him, hard. He felt a flush of heat and liquid in his mouth and down his cheeks.

The whole time she bucked and fucked on him, the knife never left his the throat. He was panting, just like Carmen. She uttered several more very pleased moans in Spanish then rolled off him. She climbed on him facing the other way and stuck her fingers in his mouth, pulling it open and holding his jaw. Then she kissed his open mouth. Her mouth was very wet, and her tongue danced all over him. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. She kissed and licked him with a fervor that was anything but civilized. Her tongue was in his mouth, and he sucked on it, lapping up the sweet saliva. She bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, he suspected.

"Ah," he cried out, but it was more from pleasure than pain. Never had pain and fear been so damn sexy. The hot mouth that was on his cock lifted away from him, and his body strained upward, seeking it again. Jasmine, the ferociously hot doctor, spoke to Carmen in Spanish. "Buena lengua!"

"Yes, he was a good boy."

Jasmine's reply was to take his cock into her mouth once more, deeper than should have been possible. He throbbed inside her, bulging and spasming with excitement. She sucked as she moved, slowly torturing him. One of her hands was doing things down there he would never speak of again, but it was more erotic than he could have imagined. The other was under her mouth, and now she pumped her hand up and down along his shaft, her sopping wet mouth sucking the head of his dick.

He didn't last long.

After only ten seconds of this masterful fellatio, Jay cried out, "I fucking love Latin women!" Then he exploded, and the climax that blasted through his body was the most intense he'd ever felt. Arousal and frustration—and in truth, terror—had pushed him to the ultimate orgasm. Jasmine's mouth took him completely in as he came, and he felt her sucking on the hard flesh, draining every last bit from him.

"Holy shit," he gasped. Then Carmen ripped the blindfold from his head. He shied away from the bright light but not the sight of her hot body. Then she straddled his chest, with her rear facing Jasmine.

"I need another, lover," Carmen said to Jasmine.

Jay angled his head to see Jasmine climbing on top of him, kneeling behind Carmen with her legs parted. Then he heard the rip of Velcro and saw Jasmine attaching a leather harness with a large black dildo hooked to it. She grinned as he saw Jay watching.

"You just watch and learn, señor," she said sultrily. Then she entered Carmen with the huge strap-on, and Jay got to watch and feel as she fucked her on top of him.

"Best night ever," he mumbled as he watched the perfect, mocha breasts bouncing and swinging over his face. It only took a few minutes for his cock to start getting hard again. This night was far from over.

Chapter Eighteen

Hayley lay on her side on the king-size bed. She had slept, and slept well, unplagued by dreams or tremors of the nightmare she had been living. The bed was of a premium quality, offering her tired body support enough but with a tender pillow top that did not aggravate her many bruises and small abrasions.

Sometime in the very early morning, a large, warm body lay down behind her. She did not stir until he put his arm over her, a large spoon in the darkness. She still did not startle but rose from slumber like a dolphin quietly surfacing from the ocean's depths.

"Do not worry, you are safe," a smooth voice rolled over her.

It was Alejandro's voice. She was not concerned by his closeness, just as she had not been uncomfortable being nude in his presence earlier.

"What are you doing here, Alejandro? If you came for sex, I'm too tired."

"I did not come for your body."

There was a long silence while Hayley listened to him breath. She smelled his cologne, a musky scent, mixed with fresh soap. It was pleasing, and she sighed happily, inhaling his presence.

"I do not know why I came in here," he finally admitted, and his arm started to lift from her shoulder. She held it in place, his smooth muscles tender beneath her grip.

"Please stay. Just hold me."

Alejandro let out a long breath, one he had held for much longer than she could know.

"Can I ask you something, Alejandro?"

"Yes."

"Were we lovers?"

Another silence, then his voice poured out over her again. "Mas. Mucho mas, mi amor."

"I—I don't know Spanish," she said quietly.

"I know," he whispered back. He said no more, nor did he leave. Hayley backed against him so that they were spooned tightly together. It felt comfortable, familiar. It felt right. His scent filled her with a longing she never knew, but she couldn't pinpoint why. She fell asleep again quickly, and in the morning, he was gone.

With dawn came soreness. Her body ached from the abuse of the last few days, not to mention that which she had endured and could not remember. There were voices in the house when she rose, and Hayley found a pair of clean jeans and a Western-style, button-up, short-sleeved blouse. Oh, thank god for clean clothes, she thought, and marveled that they fit her. There was also a pair of frilly panties and a utilitarian bra. It was perfect.

After dressing, she emerged into his home and delighted in the smells of spicy chorizo sausage, peppers, onions and eggs cooking. Alejandro was there in the kitchen, working over a frying pan.

"Buenos días, señora."

"Good morning, Alejandro."

Alejandro turned around, and in the morning light, Hayley saw he was far from fearsome or threatening. He only looked handsome, happy and whole. As she studied him, two children entered the room. Each hugged their father in greeting and laughed as he joked with them. She could see he was a man, a real man full of love, strength and power. His eyes crinkled at the sides when he hugged his children. They glanced over at her curiously before settling at the table with their already prepared food and drinks. They were beautiful, with smooth, fair skin but black obsidian hair and even darker eyes. Their father's eyes.

"Señora, this is Michael. He is nine." Alejandro motioned to the boy.

The young man smiled.

"And this is Elaina. She is seven."

"Very pleased to meet you," Elaina said, her English perfect but with a soft touch of her father's accent. Hayley smiled widely at the two. These children were so beautiful, and in the dirty world she had inhabited, their beauty was almost too much for her.

"And it is very good to meet you," Hayley finally responded. Alejandro ushered the kids into the next room once they were done inhaling their breakfast. As Hayley watched, he filled two large tortillas with the remainder of the food and folded them. Then he wrapped paper around the tortillas and placed them in a small brown bag.

"Your breakfast, for you and your... compadre." He gave her an awkward smile, which she returned shyly.

"I'm not eating with you?"

"I'm afraid not. Danger is following you. You cannot stay here."

Hayley nodded but was disappointed. She had felt so close to him last night, and she wanted to feel like that again. Plus she wanted to question him about his cryptic Spanish message to her. But alas, as they say, it was not to be. Alejandro nodded for her to follow him, and he led her out into his large driveway.

The swath of asphalt was so wide that there was a circular median in the center. It was filled with decorative stones, large flowering barrel cacti and several stands of prickly pear. She turned back and looked at the house in the morning light. It was truly beautiful. Large, yes, but it felt more like a home than a mansion. The soft pink stucco walls showcased a clay tile roof, and copper awnings opened over windows with arched tops. She marveled at the exquisite simplicity of this place, a home that was made with both excellent design, a lot of love and most of all, strong enough to withstand an attack. She couldn't help but smile.

Then her thoughts were interrupted by the growl of an open-topped jeep rolling up the drive and stopping in front of her. Jay gave her a boyish wave from the passenger seat. A dark-skinned, paramilitary-looking woman was driving, and she looked over at Hayley with what could only be described as... contempt? Jay climbed out and approached Hayley.

"Are you okay?" he asked, holding out a hand to her. She took it and squeezed it lightly before letting go. Jay looked well. He looked damn good, if she should say so herself.

"I'm fine. Did they take good care of you?"

The dark-skinned woman walked up and stood next to them, staring at her hard enough with those hawk eyes that she could feel them on her skin. Hayley thought she saw a brief flick of Jay's eyes toward the woman, followed by an almost imperceptible twitch of his mouth.

This woman... Jay had fucked her, hadn't he? She wasn't sure if she felt jealously or relief at the revelation.

"Oh, yes, they treated me very well. Once they got to know me." Again, that faint almost-smirk.

"Good," Hayley said, smiling at him. He was certainly a handsome man, clean and in a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a tight gray t-shirt. His beautifully sculpted body filled out his outfit in all the right ways. Still, he was lacking something, something she didn't quite know or understand—yet.

"Señor," Carmen said in a thick accent over Hayley's shoulder, "the jeep is gassed and outfitted as you requested."

"Gracias, Carmen," Alejandro said. "Was our other guest well behaved last night?" he asked with his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Sí, señor. We did not give him an opportunity to do otherwise. He was confined to his room." Carmen's voice, while admittedly sexy, was monotonic, emotionless, brisk.

"Very good." Alejandro turned toward Jay, giving him a knowing smile. "Mr. Jay," he said, and extended a hand toward Jay. Jay took the hand and shook it firmly. "I trust you will take very good care of my friend, Hayley?" She saw the cords of muscles stand out on each of their arms in this societally accepted form of male dominance.

Fucking guys, she thought. Idiots. Jay's mouth was a tight line, but Alejandro was smiling, undeterred.

"The best care," he responded with machismo.

"Ah, good. That's very good." Alejandro broke off the handshake and gestured toward the house. "Mr. Jay, there is a case of bottled water on the counter, just there. Would you mind grabbing that? I don't want you two to get dehydrated."

"Sure," Jay said, clearly unhappy about being dismissed.

As soon as he walked by, Alejandro reached out, turning Hayley to face him. "Remember what I said. Do not trust that man." As he spoke, he handed a leather and steel package to Hayley. It was a gun, small and black, which he tucked into a leather holster with a clip on one side. Hayley shook her head at first, but Alejandro silenced her before she could speak.

"It's a .38. It doesn't kick, and there's no safety. Point and shoot, that's it. It goes here," he said and turned her around. He tucked the small gun and holster between her jeans and her lower back, where the stretchy piece of fabric in the back of the jeans was suddenly explained. The holster clip was all that was visible on the outside of her jeans and was easily covered by her shirt.

"You planned this, with my clothes and everything?" she asked.

She heard the door open behind them; Jay was coming back. Alejandro pulled her close and touched his forehead to hers in a gesture that was both confusing and comforting.

"Señora," he said, with real tenderness in his voice, "I truly hope that you do not remember who you were. Whatever happened to you, it was a blessing. Don't look back." He pulled away, leaving Hayley feeling confused and somehow empty.

Nevertheless, she waved goodbye to Alejandro and his cadre of, well, whatever these people did for him, and climbed into the Jeep with Jay. Once they were in and the doors closed, Alejandro walked up and handed her a piece of paper through the open window.

"Here are the GPS coordinates to the safe house nearby. Good luck, and be careful you two."

Jay nodded at him, and Hayley said, "Thank you again, Alejandro." He gave her a nod as Jay typed in their coordinates. Then they were pulling away, and Hayley watched with an unexplainable sadness as the ranch shrank away into the distance behind them.

"Whew, I'm hungry!" Jay said beside her. "You'd think the guy could have fed us, huh?"

"He did. Here."

Hayley handed one of the paper-wrapped packages to him, and Jay immediately dug into the folded tortilla.

"Perfect! Hey, he's not all bad, I don't think."

"No, not too bad at all," Hayley said quietly as she watched the desert pass by them. She didn't know who Madame H. was to Alejandro. She didn't know who Madame H. was to Jay. She didn't know anything about this woman except that she was bad to the bone; a user, a pimp, and worst of all, a slave trader. The thought sent a frigid shiver down her spine.

How did any person, especially a woman, ever come to think it was okay to profit from the misery and enslavement of other women? She didn't know; she couldn't fathom it, but she decided right then, rolling through the scrub desert of Nevada, that she would right those wrongs, whatever it took. She could not let her legacy be one of the rape and misery of her fellow women.

I will fix this, she thought. I will fix it all if it takes my life to do it. I will.

But first, she had to find out who was trying to kill her. She looked over to Jay, who was driving the Jeep like a badass, the way he did everything. He glanced at her and smirked. God, was he handsome, but what the hell was his story? Jay had told her they were together, be it on and off, and that he would take care of her, but Alejandro had said not to trust him.

What would she do with that information? Something inside her believed Alejandro, but something inside her told her otherwise too.

Crap, she thought. What the hell am I going to do now?

End Book 1 of The Deadlier Sex

To be continued....

Coming soon:

Fatal Truths

(The Deadlier Sex #2)

About the Author

Maelani

Hello, I'm Maelani! I am the penname for two awesome co-writers: Maelani Reese & Nataleigh Sharp. Check our sites out and follow along for more intriguing, steamy hot stories! I write about love, romance, and sexy themes. I want to make you feel, cry, inhale, exhale, sob, scream and most of all...love. I live in Las Vegas, NV where the lights never cease and the heat can be sticky hot. I love to listen to music, travel anywhere, and love all people.

Love is but what we make. Be obsessed. It's the only way to live fully and love richly.

Join me now and remember most of all to let your inner she-wolf out.

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