Owned(32)

Surely not the kidnapping.

“My domineering side. You would have never known about my ‘other’ business.”

I ponder his question some more then shrug. “I don’t know how you build a relationship on lies. But you never gave me a chance to find out on my own, so I guess we’ll never know.” It’s an honest answer. He nods, with a small frown.

“How did you end up like this? End up here?” I ask curiously. I have so many questions. There are so many things I want to know. Kayne rolls on top of me, my body crying out from his weight. He rubs his nose softly against mine, as if conflicted. “That story is for another time. Another lifetime. But I promise one day I’ll tell you.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

He shakes his head. “Now’s not the time.”

“When will be the time?” I question him.

“I’m not sure exactly. But soon. Just try to keep an open mind, and remember things aren’t always as they appear. It’s all I can say about it.”

If I wasn’t so emotionally exhausted and physically drained, I’d try to coerce more information out of him. I like him like this, open and affectionate. I like the Dom too. I’m beginning to realize I’m fond of all of Kayne’s sides, which I know is a dangerous thing. He kidnapped me; he keeps me on a leash and collared like a puppy. I’m his to control and more and more, I’m acclimating to this lifestyle.

“Okay,” I acquiesce.

“Good. Can you get up and take a shower?”

“Jett usually puts me in the bath after one of your punishings.”

Kayne shoots me a twisted look. “One of my punishings? Is that how you see sex with me?”

“Sometimes.” I shrug demurely.

All the time.

Kayne smiles boldly. “Good. Because no one will ever give it to you as good as me.”

On some deep elemental level, I know it’s the truth.

Kayne gets up and walks into the bathroom butt naked, and I hear him run the tub. A few minutes later the smell of eucalyptus drifts into the bedroom.

He comes back once the water stops running.

“Can you get up?” He holds out a hand.

I sit up, and every fiber of my being protests, especially the ones between my knees.

Kayne must see the agony on my face, because he scoops me up without a word and carries me into the bathroom. He steps into the tub and submerges both of us into the steaming hot water.

“Ah.” It feels like I’m being pelted with stones as the water works to relax my exploited muscles. Kayne leans me against his chest, wrapping me up in his strong arms. I liquefy.

“Who do you belong to, Ellie?” He kisses my temple, the two of us immersed in overflowing bubbles.

“You, Kayne.”





ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT is Ellie’s ass.

And how she felt in my arms this morning. I pick at my bottom lip mindlessly as I fantasize about her. Her toned body, her sultry green eyes, her sexy smirk, her wet fucking ...

“Kayne.” Jett waves his hand in front of my face. “Hello, Kayne. Can you please stop daydreaming?”

I’m trying, but Ellie seems to be all I can think about. She’s invaded my life like a force I never saw coming. I want to keep her more than anything. But after all this? After everything I’ve put her through? A life without her is a fate worse than death. Which is a strong possibility, too, if everything gets fucked up.

“Javier is up to something. We should have heard from El Rey by now. There should be meetings set up. A drop point. Accounts established. None of that has happened. It’s been a month.” Jett paces in front of my desk.

“It hasn’t gone unnoticed,” I inform him.

El Rey, The King, is one of largest drug kingpins in the world. He is notorious for being a ghost and responsible for over fifty percent of the cocaine and heroin smuggled into the US. Javier is his right-hand man and our only line to meeting him face to face.

“Well what the fuck should we do? Endeavor is breathing down my neck. They know El Rey is within reach.”

“Tell Endeavor to cool their jets. There’s nothing we can do but wait. If we make the wrong move our cover will be blown and years of hard work will be worth shit.” Jett huffs. He knows I’m right. Situations like these are dangerous and deadly and need to be handled with delicate care.

“How is Spice?” I ask.

“Healing.” Jett clenches his fist. He takes looking after the women in the house as a serious task. He dotes over them like prize-winning orchids. They provide an invaluable service of their own free will. They are rare, exquisite creatures, according to him, and seeing one of them hurt nearly sent him on a murderous rampage. Javier seems to have that effect on people.

Jett may look more like a laidback surfer than cold-blooded killer, but he has a dark side just like the rest of us. He wanted to kill Javier. Like, take a rusty kitchen knife and slit his throat. I would have held the spineless worm down while he did it, but we need the Mexican motherfucker alive. “She’s recuperating, but she still wants to go.”

I groan, annoyed. The girls who work for me come from all walks of life. Some are ex-prostitutes from the slums of the streets looking for a safe environment. Some are from upper class communities, looking to fulfill the piece of them that’s missing. Sex fiends with insatiable appetites. No matter where they come from, they’re treated all the same. Trained and educated in all sexual aspects to provide my clientele the erotic experience they pay top dollar for.

I don’t want to see her go, but I won’t force her to stay.

“If she leaves, make sure she’s compensated accordingly,” I tell him, rocking back in my black leather office chair.

Jett nods with a frown. He doesn’t want her to go either.

“I’ll have a word with Javier. See if I can grease the wheels.” I crack my knuckles irked.

“I think that’s smart.” He glances at his watch. “I need to check on Ellie.”

“Dress her. I want to take her for a walk,” I tell him pointedly.

Jett just stares, those fucking aqua eyes probing me.

“What?” I insist.

“You know you can’t keep her,” he reminds me.

I growl at him. She’s mine.

“What’s going to happen when she finds out the truth?” He treads lightly.

My world will end.

“It will be over.” I shrug, trying to play off the inevitable apocalypse.

“Are you going to be able to live with that?” he asks delicately.

“I’ll have no other choice,” I respond indifferently, while my heart secretly granulates in my chest.

If I’m even alive at all.



I FIND JAVIER EATING IN the grand dining room. Its walls are a light yellow, with an extravagant baroque mural on the recessed ceiling overhead.

“Kayne.” He smiles smugly with a mouth full of food.

I sit across the expansive mahogany table from him. I keep my expression cool and my demeanor even colder.

“Javier.” I address him.

“Are you here to share a meal with me?” he asks with his thick accent.

“No.”

“A woman then?”

“Definitely not,” I scowl.

“Then what can I do for you, amigo?”

“You can tell me what the fuck is going on. You have been under my roof for a month. Eaten my food and fucked my women. But made no mention of El Rey.”

“That’s not a very nice tone for a house guest.” He fiddles with the silver knife in his left hand. I track his every movement.

“Have you ever heard the expression constant company is never welcome?” I ask short tempered.

“No. In Mexico, it’s mi casa es su casa.”

I glare at the complacent bastard.

Six months ago an associate of mine contacted me. A real stand up hell of a guy. He informed me El Rey had caught wind of my tequila empire. He looked into me and liked what he found. An American who exports alcohol out of Mexico and runs an elite brothel. My less than perfect morals intrigued him. He saw an opportunity to do business with me, because what goes better with drugs than alcohol? It’s as natural as peanut butter and jelly. That’s when I first met Javier. We exchanged correspondences, and as El Rey’s right hand, he was responsible for informing me of The King’s interests and coordinating the details. They wanted to utilize my exportation of tequila to move drugs into the US. I have plenty of customs agents in my pocket, which El Rey was already aware of. He definitely does his homework. He wouldn’t be the man he is if he didn’t. Yes couldn’t come out of my mouth fast enough.

Three months ago I was invited to Mexico for a sit down with Javier. Me, being an American, had both El Rey and Javier taking extra precautions. You never know who you’re dealing with in this business. Friend or foe, ally or enemy. Law enforcement or not. Javier flew me down in a private jet, and then had me amicably escorted by gunpoint to his home. It was the most terrifying car ride of my life. Once there, I realized the true depth of evil I was dealing with. Besides being a main player for one of Mexico’s largest drug cartels, he was also a slave trader. He had dozens of girls broken beyond repair. They crawled around his house on all fours like cats and were never permitted to stand. Naked and starved, some were so thin you could see their spine and ribcage. He kept them in tiny metal crates so small they were forced to crouch in a ball. And every night he tortured one of them. For the three days I was there, I heard their screams. And there wasn’t one fucking thing I could do about it. I had a mission. That was my focus, as unbearable as it was. The last night the wails were the worst. They were bloodcurdling, echoing through the entire house. The disturbing shrieks still haunt me. I don’t think they’ll ever stop. I nearly cracked, damning it all to hell. My hero complex flared, but just as I got out of bed to end the madness, the screams stopped. Sometime later I heard digging in the backyard. I peeked out the window to see one of Javier’s thugs kicking a body into a shallow grave under the moonlight. He killed her. While I was in his fucking house. No shame, no concern.