“If you don’t give me the films you’ve taken of me and Jack, I will go to the papers. I will tell every single guest at your resort that you’re filming their private moments without their knowledge. I will warn them about you peddling their images on the Internet for profit.” Her chest rose and fell with the force of her fury.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The clear enjoyment, the leer told her he knew and he’d seen the films. With his gel-slicked hair, his designer aftershave and suit, he appeared self-important. Emma’s right fist curled and drew back ready to let rip. His face. His gut. She didn’t care what she smacked—anything to prick his smug ego.
But no…violence wasn’t professional.
“Fine,” she snarled, after taking a deep, calming breath that was next to useless. “I will contact the police and see what they say.” She marched past, but his hand shot out and fastened around her forearm with steel manacle force.
“I don’t think so, my dear.”
“I am not your dear.” Only one man for her, and it wasn’t this creep.
With his greater height and strength, Mahoney dragged her, forcing her to trot at his side along the corridor before knocking on a door with his free hand.
Emma fought every step of the way. “Let me go.”
The door jerked open and Mahoney pushed her inside a storage room. Small brown boxes were stacked on a set of shelves while a desk and two chairs sat between the door and the shelves.
Emma squinted, trying to read the labels on the boxes. Ah! Her breath hissed out in triumph. Bingo. The very storage room they’d been searching for.
The hulk who’d opened the door stood to attention. “Problem, Mr. Mahoney?”
“Nothing we can’t handle.” Mahoney shoved Emma farther inside.
Emma was pleased to see her struggles had messed up his hair. She yanked from his touch, and this time he released her.
“Keep her here out of trouble. Get a rope. We’ll tie her up.”
Emma backed up rapidly. She lashed out with her feet, landed a kick, but it hurt her sandaled foot more than it bothered Mahoney. Tears stung her eyes but she kept kicking and biting until the two men forced her into a corner.
Chest heaving, she glared at them and considered her next move. “Sore nose?” she asked in a cool voice.
Mahoney’s helper patted his beak with a folded white handkerchief. The cloth turned red, and smug satisfaction filled her. That would teach him to mess with her again. George, her boss, would’ve been proud. She made a come-get-me gesture with both hands.
“Stop mucking around. You won’t get away,” Mahoney said.
“Make me.”
The door burst open, heralding the arrival of another employee. Emma shifted her attention and Beak man took the opportunity to grab her. Seconds later, they’d trussed her tight and she was ruing her rookie mistake.
“You can’t keep me here,” she screeched. Hopefully, someone would hear the din and investigate.
Mahoney scowled as he raked a hand through his disordered hair. “If the noise gets too bad, gag her.” He glared at her before striding from the room, the pop, pop, pop of the clay pigeon guns punctuating his ire.
Emma stopped mid-shout, pleased she’d knocked the smirk off his face. Best she save the yelling for later when she really needed to attract attention.
***
The magnetic pull of the moon gave testiness a whole new meaning. Jack strode to their accommodation, hoping like hell Emma was there and could be tempted into a quickie. As he passed the crowd at the clay pigeon event, his stomach twisted, pain slicing with the brute force of a blunt knife. He weaved through the onlookers, his staggering blending with their intoxication. Thankfully, the staff seemed to have things under control. Way more than him.
Sex. God, please let Emma be there.
He hustled as best as he could. Never suffered this level of agony. He needed to slam into her pussy in the worst way. A glance at his hand showed the dark stems of his claws beneath his human fingernails. Another sharp cramp almost doubled him over. He fell inside the room and scanned it urgently.
Emma wasn’t here.
Shit. He was gonna have to jerk-off to stave off both the pain and the taniwha. Along with the thought came a sliver of worry. He hadn’t seen her since this morning.
Jack ripped off his clothes before a wave of agony struck. He crawled into the bathroom before pulling to his feet in front of the mirror. His face glinted with the pale gray of taniwha scales. His hands fisted around his cock and he noticed that too glinted a pearl gray color.
Emma.
He concentrated, visualizing her in his mind. Her ripe curves. Her mouth wrapped around his swollen shaft. Jack pumped his erection, stroking with hard, even strokes. Not enough to send him over the edge but sufficient to keep the taniwha at bay. He stretched the process out for as long as he could before applying more pressure to his tip. The pleasure bubbled over, escaping his restraint, and he came with a rush in his fisted hand. As he cleaned up, Emma filled his mind.