14

Thirty-Two

Unknown Monday, December 22 3:00 a.m.

T he noise was deafening. It sounded like the buzz from a bumblebee-one three-times normal size. It flitted close to her ear and she swatted at it. She couldn’t lift her arm. Her hand didn’t leave her side. What the hell?

She opened her eyes a crack. Well, she didn’t think she was dead. Not unless heaven or hell or whatever afterlife place she was going to looked like a warehouse. Maybe she was in purgatory? Naw, she didn’t believe in that. It was either up or down. Lord knows she’d spilled enough blood to be heading south. The thought made her grimace, and a sharp pain shot through her head. She tried opening her eyes again, slowly this time, first the right, letting it focus, then the left. Her head buzzed; it wasn’t a bumblebee but her brain, sending off sound waves at a thousand decibels a pop. Her eyes focused on what looked like a concrete pillar, then slowly, she moved her gaze across the room. Her head pounded but the impression stood. Empty warehouse.

She tried to stand, barely registering when she couldn’t. Her head began to swim, and darkness enveloped her.

He sensed the movement, got up and went to the window, looked into the room. She was awake. Good. It was nearly time. He wanted to talk to her, to hear that smoky voice again. But it was taking her so long to get over the stun gun. Maybe the chloroform was a little much, too. He didn’t know how strong she was, how much she was going to fight. She’d actually come to for a moment as she’d been carried toward the plane. He’d felt her muscles tense and slapped a soaked handkerchief across her nose and mouth.

He’d hoped she’d be awake hours ago. Instead she sat, strapped into the chair, and slept. He thought she might even have dreamed-her eyes moved back and forth under the lids and she moaned softly. Those lips. That moan had done more to him in two seconds than any woman had in two years. She was absolutely delicious. He wanted her. On so many levels.

As he watched, she moved slightly, then drifted away again. Maybe it wasn’t time, after all. Too bad.

He made a phone call, let L’Uomo know that she was starting to come to. L’Uomo had warned him to keep his hands off, but he longed to touch her skin again, so warm, so tight.

There was motion again in the room. Yes, she was fully awake now.

Standing at the window, he watched her, amazed at her beauty. She tried to shake her head and groaned, to his everlasting delight. Maybe he couldn’t touch, but nothing said he had to be a monk about it. His hand went to the fly on his pants and he reached inside, grasping himself. A woman, incapacitated, tied to a chair…a normal man would feel chivalrous, not wholly aroused and harder than a rock. A few quick strokes was all it took. He closed his eyes in bliss as he came.

“Atlas, you revolting creature.”

L’Uomo’s voice boomed and Atlas opened his eyes in shock, his hand still wrapped around his rapidly shrinking penis. Oh, God, he’d been caught. He stumbled back against the wall, fumbling his dick back into his pants, all six foot eight inches of him crowding the space where a neat, gray-haired gentleman stood, lips curled in disgust.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Atlas bowed his head.

“Obviously you aren’t capable of handling this situation, Atlas. You are dismissed. Send Dusty in to replace you. Tell him no books, this needs his utmost attention. You may leave now.”

Atlas turned to the window, giving the woman one last glance. “Beautiful,” he muttered, then left the small observation room.

L’Uomo stood in the window and watched as Taylor Jackson struggled against her bonds. Beautiful, indeed. But he didn’t need his men distracted by a helpless succubus. Dusty would manage her; he seemed to feel nothing for the opposite sex. Of course, the court-mandated Depo-Provera shots the man took neutered him quite effectively.

The girl was fighting it now, fully conscious and trying to get untied. He watched, feeling a twitch in his own groin as she struggled. She’d fight the bonds for hours if he let her. Tough girl. He was going to have to talk to her, prevent her from hurting herself. She would have to relieve herself soon, and then they needed to get her fed and watered.

He admired her spirit. High praise from a man who admired nothing.