His Prisoner by Jesse Jordan (31)

Stephen

“So soon?” Larissa asks, and I can hear the disappointment and frustration in her voice. After taking out Reginald Finch and submitting my reports, I'd put in for some leave time starting immediately, saying I just needed a chance to get my head right. It took the CIA a few days, but they sent their answer ten minutes ago, and as I fold up my underwear and put it in my bag, I can't help but feel the same way.

“They said my flight is the red eye out of Heathrow tonight,” I reply, trying to be professional. I can't though, every time I think of going back home, another voice inside me says that I don't want to go home. That instead of going back to some desk at Langley, that I want to go to a townhouse in Greece, that instead of driving a Chevy I need to be driving a Mercedes, that instead of sending e-mails to Penny about my plans for the upcoming month, I need to be discussing plans with Larissa about just how we're going to share a bondage session with little Lihua to reward her for being such a good girl. Still, it's just not that easy.

“I... I understand,” Larissa says. “Then, do we at least have time for a meal? You've been in England for two weeks now, and I still haven't even taken you for fish and chips.”

Her attempt at humor makes me chuckle, and I look across the bed at her, her eyes not laughing but tense and desperate with something that she wants to say. “I suppose we can do that. I bet you have the best places in town already mapped out.”

“Of course,” she says, blinking rapidly. “Stephen...”

“Don't worry, I'm sure the staff hasn't robbed you blind back home yet,” I reply, closing my bag. I don't want her to say what I can see is on her lips, I can't take it. Just the fact that we've had this time in England is an escape from the real world is too much, and I have to go back. “And there's always my two weeks of vacation I've still got built up, and well... who knows.”

“We could be working together in the future?” Larissa asks, and I shrug. “You'll have to work on learning Italian and Greek.”

“I'm sure it can't be that hard,” I reply. “Come on, I don't need to take anything else with me, let's just enjoy the rest of the day.”

We leave Larissa's flat and head into the countryside, away from the tourist trap areas of London and into something more peaceful. “It's a big park.”

“Lee Valley is one of the reasons I bought the building I did,” Larissa says as we circle around the parking lot, heading towards the place she wants to go. She finds an empty spot and “I always wanted, when I was a little girl, to go on a picnic with someone… meaningful here.”

“Well you've got a chance now,” I reply, reaching over and putting my hand on her knee. “In fact...”

Something comes screeching into the parking lot and we look up just in time to see a large black van come swinging around. The side door opens and three gunmen step out, Larissa and I reacting instinctively.

It saves our lives as the gunmen open up without any warning at all, riddling Larissa's Bentley with bullets. I slide down on my belly behind the trunk, where I find Larissa, her cheek scraped and gasping in pain. “You okay?”

“No,” she grunts, lifting her arm from her side where I see blood already soaking her blouse. “Flesh wound, but fuck!”

I reach for my pistol at the small of my back, but it's not there, it must have fallen out when I slid around to the back of the van. I hear the thudding continue, and I look out, the three gun men aren't stopping. A fourth man emerges from the van, and my balls jump into my throat. “Move!”

I grab Larissa, pulling her with me as we run as hard as we can. We've only got a few seconds before the TOW missile hits Larissa's car, tearing through it like tissue paper before the gas tank explodes, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. Larissa screams in pain again and stumbles. I don't have time to find out what's wrong with her so I scoop her up, looking for a way to get away, but the van is already pulling away, screeching out of the parking lot.

“Larissa?” I ask, and she slurs, mumbling something incoherent and I take a look at her. She's bleeding, her face torn open by a piece of shrapnel, a jagged looking cut that's going to need treatment.

“A10... A120... safe house,” she mumbles, and I understand. Slinging her arm over my shoulder I look for something to get us out of here, my salvation delivered via a man in a Mini Cooper.

“Hey mate, are you two... hey!” he yells as I grab him and throw him to the ground, kicking him once to knock him out. Sorry man, I’ve got no beef with you, I just can't have you getting in the way.

I pull out of the parking lot, the police sirens already audible in the distance. I keep my calm, doing my best to not stick out as I head towards the major roads. I don't know where A10 and A120 are, but I do know they're highways in England, that's the way they number them around here.

* * *

The safe house is just that, a small cottage in the outlying hamlet of Puckeridge that's nearly a half mile from any of the neighbors. Larissa passes out from the pain as I help her out of the Mini, and I get her arranged as comfortably as possible, bandaging her ribs and face before I risk the drive to ditch the Mini. The last thing I need is the local constable wondering what a stolen car is doing in his neighborhood.

I ditch the Mini ten kilometers away, parking it at a supermarket in Buntingford where it should remain undisturbed for a while since it shares space with a pub before I start jogging back, glad that I'm wearing at least somewhat athletic clothes.

As I run, I wonder what the hell happened. How'd they hit us? How'd they even know where we were, and why didn't they try and follow up? I can understand hitting and splitting, but after going to all the trouble to blow up a Bentley with a TOW missile, why not try and hit us again?

I don't have my phone any more, it was in the car when it was destroyed along with my computer and everything else in my bag, but I need to get in contact with the CIA somehow. First though I head back to Puckeridge, making sure to keep my head down. England has too many closed circuit cameras, and I don't know who hit me or if they can track us still.

There's groans as I get back to the small house, and I hurry in, hating myself for leaving Larissa for even as long as I have. “Larissa?”

“My arm!” she whines, and I see immediately what's wrong. The swelling's already started, she must have broken something. “Ah god Stephen, please...”

“Do you have a medical kit?” I ask, and Larissa points with her good hand towards the bathroom. Inside, under the sink, I find a huge kit, Larissa's been preparing for something for a while. I pull it out and open it, seeing the layout inside. “Jesus, you've got a mobile OR in here.”

“Ten cc's morphine,” Larissa groans. I help her to the floor, it's the best place I can see for treating her, then look back in the case. “In the same shoulder. Intramuscular.”

I find the morphine and hold it up to her, glad that the CIA taught me some decent field medicine. It takes her a while but she's able to handle the pain better, her eyes glazing some as the edge is taken off. “Okay, I'm going to check the bone and set it, then see about those cuts, okay?”

“Yes sir....” Larissa whispers, her word for me making me smile.

“Just think, this is nothing compared to what I could do with you,” I tease to try and distract her, checking her arm before pulling. The bone's cracked, not shattered, and while it hurts like hell enough for Larissa to moan in pain again, she grits her teeth as I feel the bone slide back into place. “There, that wasn't that bad. I bet you even got a thrill out of it.”

“The thrill would come later,” Larissa whispers. Still, she smiles at my attempt at distraction, keeping her tight smile as I splint and then wrap her arm and setting it carefully on the ground before going around her body to the other side. “You’re always great at the thrill part.”

“You keep it together, and I'll give you all the thrills you want,” I reply. “But for now, I gotta check the cut on your cheek. Hold still.”

Larissa holds still while I carefully remove the bandage, looking at the deep slice. It's nearly three inches long, and at one point goes all the way through and I can see her teeth on the other side. “We need to get this stitched up.”

“Then do it,” Larissa says, my hands freezing in surprise. She sees the expression on my face, and she reaches up, taking my hand. “No doctor I trust. I trust you.”

“Larissa, I'm-” I start, but she has to know already. Instead of continuing, I squeeze her fingers. “I'll do my best.”

“That's my man,” she whispers, laying her head back. “You always have done your best. Even when I tease you.”

“Yeah well... hold still, and just remember that the pain will be rewarded later,” I reply, turning to the medical kit and looking for a suture kit. “This shouldn't take long at all.”

* * *

“No contact?” Larissa asks. A week in the safe house, and our supplies are exhausted, we ate the last of the canned food this morning for breakfast. “Even by e-mail?”

I nod, wiping the sweat from my forehead, this having to run everywhere due to lack of having a car is starting to suck. “Nothing. Not even in my anonymous drop box. I couldn't even log in, which tells me who tried to hit us.”

“The CIA?” Larissa asks, and I nod. “Why?”

“They think I've gone rogue,” I reply, too tired any more to be pissed off. “When they didn't let me call in that was one thing, I was calling from an unsecured pay phone. But the e-mail, the phone, all of it... someone made the call, put me on a rogue protocol. Explains why they hit us the way they did too. They tracked my CIA phone.”

Larissa sighs. “At least The Network is still open to me. My backup phone let me do that at least. By the way, Lihua says hi.”

I can't help it, I smile despite my frustration and anger. “So what now?”

“Now?” Larissa asks. “Now, we finish getting my now disfigured ass healed up, and we end this. We know you didn't do anything to cause them to legit call a rogue protocol. So it was a hit, which worries me more than anything. And I think I know what W-W stands for.”

“What?” I ask, and Larissa looks at me, her eyes grave.

“Washington-Westminster. Whoever is running the Circle, whoever this Dover is, they've corrupted both of our nations. Even more than The Network has,” Larissa says. “But in the meantime... we need food.”

Shopping takes us most of the afternoon, and I'm glad that Larissa had some extra sunglasses and hats, but more importantly a lot of cash in a safe in the house. What doesn't feel good is carrying the forty pound backpack of supplies to the house, Larissa not shirking her load at all despite having a broken arm and carrying twenty pounds herself.

“Just think,” she says, grunting in pain from the flesh wound on her ribs. “We're going to be in great shape for kicking someone's ass when we get out of this.”

“We already were in great shape,” I grunt back, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Give me the backpack.”

“I'm not soft,” Larissa complains, but obeys when I don't relent. “It's just a flesh wound.”

“And you're still wounded,” I reply, slinging the bag awkwardly over my left shoulder. “Most people would still be sitting on their asses and eating ice cream.”

“Don't have any ice cream,” Larissa mutters, stalking off.

I understand her frustration, and the day I remove her stitches she's in a black mood. Despite my best efforts she's got a scar, a noticeable one at that. She refuses to talk for the rest of the day, staying in her bedroom and crying sometimes. Thinking, I go out to the back of the house and gather enough wood for my plan, chopping up a few of the old logs into kindling before busying myself with preparing dinner.

It's just after sundown when Larissa comes out of her room, her face freshly scrubbed and her hair pulled back. “I apologize for being bitchy earlier. I know you tried your best on the stitch job.”

“Thanks,” I accept, trying to think of what to say. Finally, I speak what's on my mind. “If it helps Larissa, it doesn't make you any less beautiful in my eyes.”

She smiles, and it's something that I'm noticing more and more about her. Holed up in this house, away from it all while still being surrounded by the danger of the world we're in, we've become closer. It's not just sexual any longer, either. “It helps a lot. Thank you. But I was thinking... I want to go to Dover.”

“You think Dover is the city this is all from?” I ask, and Larissa nods. “Where?”

“The castle,” Larissa says. “It's the biggest in England, but more importantly, underneath are tunnels. They were dug as far back as when the castle was first built, but there's miles underneath there, most of it dug during World War II as a secure secret headquarters. Some of it's open to the public, but a lot isn't. And when I was going through MI6 training... well, there's things in those tunnels that the public isn't supposed to see.”

“It's worth a try,” I agree. “But not for another month. I want your arm fully healed, and for that, you need dinner and what I prepared.”

“What's that?” Larissa asks, and I smile. “What?”

“Go back to your room, and put on something comfortable. I'll call you when dinner is ready.”

It takes me a half hour to finish my preparations, and I knock on Larissa's door. “Larissa?”

She opens the door, and I'm stunned again at how beautiful she can be. Even with her arm still wrapped in the splint, she's pretty in her cami top and pajama pants, and her eyes go wide when she sees what I did. “The stove?”

“I figured it was worth it, it's starting to get chilly in the evening,” I reply, leading her over to the couch. The warm red fire crackles and sends off heat and light, the stove is as much a fireplace as it is a heater, and I have Larissa sit down, bringing over dinner, my best efforts with what we could carry in the backpacks. “Bon appetit.”

We eat, and afterwards I lean back, watching as Larissa studies her face on the back of her spoon. “I'm hideous, Stephen. For sure my days as a seductress are over.”

“Hardly,” I reply, putting my hands on her shoulders. I pull her backwards gently, stretching out on the couch and holding her in my arms, the two of us watching the fire. “The only thing that can stop you is you.”

“But I don't want to be a seductress any more,” Larissa whispers. “I've learned about myself the past few months as well. And I'm tired of that side of my life.”

“Don't tell me you want to give up your life in Kalamata?” I ask, surprised, and Larissa shakes her head. “I didn't think so.”

We lay there silently, and while I'm fully aware of Larissa's body, I'm also aware of what she's going through, and that her arm's still broken. “Larissa?”

“Hmmm?” she asks, snuggling against me. “You've spoiled me, by the way, I like spoons.”

“Are you sure you want to go to Dover?” I ask, trying with the last of my reserves to try and be professional.

She nods, sitting up slightly. I sit up as well, still holding her as she leans against me. “I do. It's the only chance I can think of for our safety. But more importantly, whoever these assholes are, they're responsible for corrupting our countries, but more importantly, for getting my childhood taken away. Mum and Da might have tried to help me when I got to England, but... my childhood ended when I was seven. I need a measure of revenge for that.”

“Then we do this together,” I reply, rubbing her shoulders. “Okay?”

Larissa turns her head and looks into my eyes. “Stephen, you've seen a little bit of what I've lived for years. What we find... you may not like what you discover. And there's a lot of risk. And the cost of knowing could be very, very high.”

I cup her face, my thumb covering her scar, looking into her beautiful face in the soft firelight. “Sometimes,” I whisper, leaning in closer. “Sometimes finding out is worth the risk.”

I kiss her gently, both of us moaning as I let my emotions flow. Death? Being declared a rogue agent? Doesn't matter. This woman in my arms, pressed against my body right now matters. I slip a hand down, cupping her breast through her silky cami. “Mmmm, what are you doing?”

“Reminding you that, even with scars and a broken arm, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever met,” I whisper, massaging. “And I know exactly how I want to show you. Lay back, no harshness or anything required from you. Right now, let me serve you... Lady L.”

Larissa smiles and leans back, pressing her body against mine. “Are you sure?”

I nod, and lean in to kiss her again. “You're worth the risk.”

Larissa

The feeling of having my splint off is still fresh in my mind as Stephen and I drive towards Dover. It’s been a long time since I visited the city, and as we come around the curve on the motorway to see the famous white cliffs, I’m not sure if I feel excited or nervous.

This past month has been something I never expected as Stephen nursed me back to health. More than making sure my wounds healed or that my arm got stronger again, Stephen’s cared for my mind, reassuring me that despite the scar on my cheek or under my breast, that he still thinks I’m beautiful. Not too many people have said that with the same sort of meaning or intensity, and it’s been better than the antibiotics he’s made sure I’ve taken or the constant little things he’s done that’s helped.

“You okay?” Stephen asks behind the wheel of our rented car. “You look like you’re deep in thought.”

“Yeah,” I reply quickly, turning away from looking at the cliffs to point out the castle. “Just thinking about that. If we use the carpark downtown, it’s only a short walk. The site is mostly open to the public.”

“Great place to put a secret cabal,” Stephen jokes as he follows directions, pulling into a parking space and looking around. “Nice town.”

“You wouldn’t say that when a storm’s coming off the Channel,” I say with a grunt, thinking back to my MI6 training days. “Something about British storms off the Channel, they are truly more terrible than anything I ever experienced anywhere else.”

We make our way to the castle, where instead of going through the main entrance to explore the castle itself, we turn left, heading down a path that says it’s the long way around to the rear entrance. “A total ruse,” I whisper. “Up ahead is our first target.”

The concrete pillbox barely sticks a meter out of the ground, and the steps downward are slightly crumbly, all by design as I lead Stephen inside. “It was from places like this that the British planned to hold off the Nazis if they’d crossed the Channel,” I explain as Stephen looks out over the nearby water.

“This doesn’t look like it was put in seventy years ago,” Stephen notes as we turn around, facing the steel door. “Looks like it was put in last week, even with the intentionally weathered paint job. Nice artificial rust spots.”

“We know weathered around here,” I comment, going to the hidden keypad and entering the code I was given years ago by MI6. I hope it still works, and I’m nervous for a second until the lock clicks and the door opens a fraction of an inch. “And we know how to never change our lock codes. Come on.”

As we make our way down the dimly lit corridor, Stephen draws his pistol, and I do the same. We don’t know what’s ahead, except that this area is the start of the parts of the tunnels that are off limits to the public. When we come to the first junction, Stephen looks around. “Just how many tunnels are there?”

“About four miles or so, but about half of that is open to the public, so we’re not interested in that,” I reply, looking to my left. “We’re looking for Dumpy or Esplanade most likely.”

“Dumpy?” Stephen asks, and I shrug. British naming, it’s hard to explain. “Oookay then.”

“They named it, not me. It was dug to be an emergency seat of government even in the event of atomic war. It’s also the part that was the most secured.”

Unfortunately, my ‘simple’ idea turns out to be not so simple, and we explore the tunnels for nearly three hours before Stephen puts his hand on my shoulder, pointing. “There.”

I look, and see something that certainly doesn’t belong in World War II tunnels. “Hmm, fiber optic trunk line cabling,” I whisper, taking a closer look as the conduit that’s running along the ceiling. “I do say Watson, we’ll make a detective of you yet!”

Stephen rolls his eyes, still smiling though as we follow the conduit down a tunnel, making three turns before coming to the end of this particular tunnel with an open room to the side. “Well...”

A man steps out, his eyes going wide when he sees us. “What are you doing down here?” he asks angrily, taking a step back when Stephen raises his pistol. “Say now....”

“Shut the fuck up and get on the floor,” Stephen says harshly. “You sound like a fucking Monty Python skit.”

“I say, that’s not very-” the man starts, shutting up when Stephen cocks the hammer on his pistol. “Bloody Yanks.”

“You mind tying Master Pip here up?” he asks, and I go over, finding the man’s belt in his trousers quite useful. As I do, I laugh a little and he notices, turning his head in indignation. “What’s so bloody funny?”

“Oh, just that men used to pay me thousands of dollars to tie them up. Count yourself lucky,” I say as I finish the quick hogtie. “Now, what’s got you down here? Dover?”

“What are you talking about?” the man says, but I can see it in his eyes he’s fully aware. “Shit.”

“Yeah well, let’s poke around some,” Stephen says, punting our prisoner in the head and knocking him out before crossing into the main part of the room. “That feels better.”

The room has a small tunnel in the back and we follow it down, emerging into what I can only call an office. There’s a sturdy metal desk, and it obvious that the man we knocked out was the worker, there’s only one chair, but the lights are a modern LED, and the computer on his desk is top of the line. “Well, at least we know what the Internet connection was for.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Stephen says as he looks at the screen on the computer. “Larissa, check this out.”

I go around, amazed at the pure volume of data that’s flowing across the triple LCD screens. On one is camera feeds from the United States, including the briefing room at the Pentagon it looks like, a shot from what is certainly the White House, and more. “Hmm, looks like someone’s using the loo.”

Stephen looks as on one window a door opens and a man comes out, adjusting his suit pants, and Stephen gasps. “That’s the Director of the CIA. That’s inside Langley!”

“Yes well, look over here,” I whisper, pointing at another screen. “My my William, how naughty you and Kate get!”

Stephen looks at what I point out, and it’s not so much the fact that a Prince and his wife are rubbing their bits that’s shocking, but the fact that it’s all on camera. “What is this place?”

“It looks like Dover,” I whisper. “Okay, let me poke around, this is a Unix system that I’m familiar with, MI6 uses a similar architecture. Can you make sure nobody comes to disturb us?”

“Good idea,” Stephen says, leaving the room. “But hurry.”

He leaves, going up the tunnel to the other room while I quickly scan the hard drive of the computer. There’s millions of documents and files, most of them coded with what looks like a system of numbers for file names, but I can’t figure them out in the amount of time we have. Instead, I look in the desk drawers, finding what I need quickly, a set of screwdrivers. “All right, let’s hope you didn’t hard encode these.”

I tell the system to shut down, waiting for the power to blink off before opening the casing on the system. There’s three hard drives inside, whichever computer geek set this up knew what they were doing, and I quickly pull all three. As I take out the third, a yellow light starts blinking on the ceiling, and a phone on the desk starts ringing. I ignore it, hurrying out to Stephen who’s looking around worriedly. “Got what you need? Because the power company’s going apeshit with the lights.”

“I think I triggered some form of alarm,” I reply, showing him the three hard drives. “Let’s move.”

Stephen nods, taking the hard drives from me and slipping them into the backpack we brought just in case. We hurry back, going up levels as quickly as we can find them, hoping to get into one of the publicly available spots. The overhead lighting goes dark, but up ahead I can see a normal fluorescent, and Stephen takes my hand. “Looks like the way out.”

“If my internal map is right, we’re close to the former underground hospital,” I whisper, taking my pistol and slipping it in my pocket. I reach out, taking his hand and entwining our fingers. “Let’s look like tourists.”

We’re nearly at the lights again when someone calls out. “What are you two doing?”

We turn, and it’s a park guide, one of the ones that runs guided tours of the war tunnel exhibitions, her uniform spiffy and tidy in the light. Stephen gives my hand a quick squeeze before putting a big grin on his face. “Entschuldigen Sie, ich musste die Toilette benutzen und wir verirrten uns, unseren Weg zurück zu finden. Ahh… I have to piss.“

The guide rolls her eyes, pointing down the hall. “Well, the toilets and the group are up ahead. Please stay with everyone.”

“Danke,” Stephen says, while I give her a smile as we hurry down the hall towards the exit. “That was easy.”

“Nice German accent. You should have a talk with Claudia some time.”

“Hmm… that’d be interesting, having tea while talking with Claudia and Lihua. What would your customers think if we did that some night, just sit around, them in their bondage gear while I wear a suit and we talk?”

I giggle, the image ridiculous in my mind. “I think Claudia would enjoy the chance to use her German. Don’t know about in the club though.”

We rejoin the group and make our way through the rest of the tour, acting for most of the time as just a pair of lovers on a holiday tour. It’s not that hard really, and as we walk out and head back towards the car park, part of me goes back to being confused. I enjoyed the last part, and as we get back in the car, I wish we weren’t going back to my safe house but to a hotel that would be just the next step on a holiday of our own.

“Stephen?” I ask as Stephen looks out the window, it’s my turn to drive. “Would you mind if we stopped for dinner along the way back?”

Stephen looks over, a small smile coming to his face. “I’d like that very much.”

We stop at a pub, just some random place on the way back up north, but it’s got a definite classic British feel to it. The pubman greets us, and I take the lead, ordering a shepherd’s pie along with fish and chips and a couple of pints of Guinness. We find a table, and Stephen looks around in appreciation. “It’s different, but I like it.”

“We do try and please our visitors,” I quip, sipping my Guinness. “There are times I miss this back home.”

“Kalamata?” Stephen asks, and I nod. “Just how many places do you consider home, anyway?”

“Well, there’s Kalamata, and my flat here that’s currently not available,” I think, ticking them off. “And Mum and Da’s place, but there’s no way I’m going to them right now, too dangerous. Oh, and Caccamo. That’s my place in Sicily.”

“Three homes. Impressive,” Stephen says, sipping his drink. I give him credit, he doesn’t wince at the dark drink, which is served in the typical British style, warmer than most Americans like it. “So which is your favorite?”

“Kalamata for sure,” I reply. “Not that I don’t like Caccamo, but in Kalamata, I can be as close to being the real me as possible. It’s something that… well, if I had my heart’s deepest desire, I’d like a place like that.”

“Like what?” Stephen asks, his look making me feel both uncomfortable and willing to be uncomfortable at the same time. Like I’ve finally found someone I can trust with all of this burden on my soul.

“I’d like one place, one person where I can be one hundred percent me. With Mum and Da, I love them, but I do have to be… polite. They don’t know about the bedroom side of me. In Caccamo and Kalamata, I have to be The Dryad, and while there’s a certain freedom in that, there’s also the stress of not being able to let anyone know who I really am as well. Even in my flat up here, I can be myself, but there’s nobody I can be myself with. That’s… difficult.”

Stephen sips his drink, and I start to feel nervous for some reason, self conscious in a way I’ve never been before in my life, until Stephen sets his drink down and nods, looking at me. “I think I’m starting to understand. The hard part for me is that I’ve gone my whole life without really knowing who I am. I’ve always had my parents, my sister, someone else that I’ve held back with, trying to fit an exterior mold rather than be who I am. So thank you for that.”

“For what?” I ask, and Stephen smiles.

“You know what. Ah, here’s the food. So which is mine, the fish or the pie?”

Stephen

We decide to sleep on the information before we try to digest it all, and I’m pleasantly surprised when Larissa pulls me with her into her bedroom, not for sex but just for the comfort of having someone to sleep with. When I wake up and she’s in my arms, I feel a now familiar desire, not just for her body but for her. If only we’d met under different circumstances.

“Did you sleep well?” Larissa asks quietly, nestling into my arms. “You snore a little, but it’s a nice snoring.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve heard my snoring called nice,” I joke, leaning in and stealing a kiss on her neck. She hums, reaching back to run her fingers through my hair and I can see her smile.

“Are you trying to keep me in bed?” she asks, pressing her hips back into me, and I’m tempted to do just that, but instead I chuckle, kissing her neck again and giving her a squeeze.

“Maybe after we get our work done. Remember, a little anticipation adds to the flavor,” I answer her, reaching up to cup a magnificent, perfect breast. “Yes?”

“Yes… sir,” Larissa softly moans as her breast fills my hand and I’m torn between getting up and seeing what we can get up to, but in the end I decide that later, if there’s time, we can explore that all we want.

“Good. Then I’m ordering you to try and hook those hard drives up to our computers while I get us some breakfast ready. I suspect we’ve got a huge task ahead of us.”

Larissa sighs in disappointment, but turns over to look at me with a twinkle in her eye. “You think you can get away with giving me orders all the time?”

I shake my head, giving her a quick kiss on the nose. “No. But I do like giving you orders. We’ll see how often, and how often you obey.”

Larissa shivers at my last word, then smiles. “Yes sir.”

I growl lightly, touching my forehead to hers. “Call me that again and I’m going to turn your ass red tonight.”

Larissa’s grin widens and she suddenly rolls out of my arms and out of bed, almost prancing out of the bedroom. “Yes sir, sir, sir, sir, sir!”

I watch her, amazed at what I just witnessed, awe struck in some ways by what she’s putting in my hands. My cock is raging in my sleep shorts too, and it takes me a good two minutes of deep breathing before I can get out of bed without racing out of the bedroom to just fuck her in the middle of the living room of the cottage, but instead go to the kitchen to make us a simple breakfast. When I come out, Larissa’s already got one of the hard drives hooked up to her laptop, and her eyes are flashing back and forth across the screen as she configures everything.

“How’s it going?” I ask, handing her her breakfast. “And here’s your horse feed.”

Larissa chuckles, taking the bowl of Weetabix and sitting back, looking inside. “Ah, that’s the problem. It’s a lot better if you chunk up the fruit and throw it in with the ‘bix. No worries, I know it’s different from the American version. Thanks. As for the hard drive, no problems at all. I created a shell to protect my system, and this is slaved in. Bring your computer over and I can do the same before you even get your tea finished.”

She’s good to her word, and as I pour us each a second cup of tea she turns my computer around towards me, the file manager open. “Here you go.”

For the next six hours, we work nonstop, in that straight ahead, machine like style that I was famous for in the CIA. File after file is read, the most interesting ones minimized for later, and as the hours past a creeping horror fills me as I realize the magnitude of what we’ve found, what Dover is.

Amazingly, Larissa outworks me, her normal carefree demeanor set aside as she speed reads at a phenomenal rate, documents shrunk and videos perused while she multitasks better than I can. When I finally have to wipe my eyes to clear the ache from them, she sits back, shaking her head. “This is… this is a fucking horror story told in terabytes.”

“What have you found?” I ask. “Most of mine is… whatever this Dover group is, they’ve got their fingers in so many pies that it’s easier to say what they’re not involved with. I’m not sure they’re involved with pro football.”

“Yes they are, both European and American,” Larissa says, rubbing at her eyes. “I found a document that looks like it’s a sort of briefing folder that’s delivered to the people in our countries who are climbing into the circles that these people operate in. It’s… it’s flat out terrifying. Basically, Dover’s a goddamn hydra that stretches back decades at least. It seems their whole business is corruption.”

“You told me when we first met that I was going to find a world that I wasn’t prepared for,” I note, laying back on the floor and staring at the ceiling. “Just how far down the rabbit hole am I?”

“We’re so far down that I can barely figure out which way is up any more,” Larissa says. “These guys, and not just The Circle, they make The Network look like saints. An hour ago I read a quick little document that said our two governments have squashed technological advances that would assure the planet clean energy and eliminate global warming in less than two decades. And it was discovered back in nineteen seventy four.”

“You want to keep digging?” I ask. “I mean, Larissa from what I’ve found, this truly does go through both of our societies.”

“We have to, if we’ve got any chance to survive,” Larissa says quietly, intensely. “Stephen, these people have to know by now that we’ve got the data. If I were them, I’d use every tool at their disposal to find and eliminate both of us. Just in what I’ve read, I’ve seen enough to bring down the British Crown, and maybe even the American system as well. These people have leverage on the people with their fingers on the buttons of nuclear bombs.”

I sigh, agreeing. “So how do we filter it? Larissa, we could spend the next two months reading all this shit and still not get through it all. My hard drive is three terabytes of information. I don’t care if that’s all high def video, that’s like, what…?”

“I did the math, it’s a hundred and twenty Blu-Rays each hard drive,” Larissa says with a deep sigh. “You’re right. Okay, then we need to start doing some cross referencing. I’ve got a program on my computer that can do that, and I can daisy chain all three hard drives together too. But we need search parameters.”

“Why not the two men we’ve taken down?” I offer. “Start there, see what’s brought up? Most of the videos I’ve seen are more public figures anyway, the sort of stuff you keep to have something you can blackmail people with later if they try to go against you. Audio might be the same.”

“It’s worth a try,” Larissa says, coming over to my computer and disconnecting the hard drive before plugging the cable into hers and typing away. “Arthur Pinchot, Reginald Finch. Okay, at the speeds I can get with this machine… we might be finished tomorrow, but the data will display as it’s found.”

“Guess it’s time for lunch,” I joke, leaning back. “So when do I start giving orders again?”

Larissa chuckles darkly, coming over and straddling my waist before leaning over and kissing me. “As much fun as that would be, and as much as I can feel your body wanting it like I do, there’s been one thing about all the times we’ve had sex that I treasure above everything else.”

“Mmm? What’s that?” I ask, bringing my arms around and stroking her back. “Don’t tell me I’m the best lover you’ve ever had.”

She hums as my hands stroke her for a minute before, shrugging. “What you lack in finesse of technique you more than make up for in enthusiasm and raw talent… and one tremendous cock, by the way. But no, what’s been amazing about sex with you Stephen is that, from the beginning, it’s felt clean to me. That first night when you were just pushed to the point of going overboard, every time since then as well, it’s felt pure and clean. We fuck because it feels good to us. Because we enjoy each other, and each other’s body. But right now, after what I’ve read, I’d be fucking you in order to feel clean, which makes what we have just a little dirty. I don’t want that, because you’re just about the only pure and clean thing in my life.”

Her words touch me too deep to say anything and I instead hold her, letting her straddle my waist even as my cock throbs knowing it’s so close to her perfect body, but she’s right. When Larissa and I have had sex, it’s always been pure between us. Maybe there was frustration, maybe a bit of anger sometimes, but it’s always been pure because it’s always been about us. “Okay. I guess I won’t be turning your ass red tonight then. But I promise you, when the time is right, I’m going to do that and more for the way you teased me this morning.”

Larissa hums happily, laying her head on my chest. “I look forward to it… sir.”

* * *

It’s hard, resisting the physical urge to just tear our clothes off and fuck like rabbits as the computer creeps by at whatever quad cores can do while it looks at and discards what comes out to nearly five terabytes of data once the video and audio are taken away.

Still, like I told Larissa, anticipation builds the flavor between us, and I feel it in every glance she gives me as we eat our simple dinner, going for a walk through the countryside afterwards. The next time we are sexual with each other, it’s going to be epic.

We don’t trust ourselves enough to actually sleep together again, so I crash on the sofa, a towel pulled over my eyes to shield me from the glare of the laptop screen as documents are pulled up, scanned, and discarded in the blink of an eye. Still, it’s hard to sleep with the simmering sexual tension that’s coursing through my veins, and I twice get up in the middle of the night to take a piss, only to stop by Larissa’s door and have to stop myself from opening the door to join her.

When the sun creeps over the horizon, I’m already awake, giving up on sleep an hour ago to do calisthenics in the pre-dawn chill until I’m running with sweat and at least flushing enough blood to my muscles that my cock is able to relax for a while. All that stops however when Larissa comes out in her silk pyjamas, her hair sleep gnarled but looking like a dream still. “Good morning, early bird. You do know my real life has me working nights, correct?”

“I know that I spent all of last night wanting to go into your bed and keep you working all night, but I resisted,” I reply, Larissa smiling in reply. “You have no idea the images that went through my mind while I was doing pushups outside.”

“Probably the same that were going through my mind as I spent two hours doing my own exercises before finally being able to get some sleep,” Larissa admits. “I’ll make the tea this morning, sir.”

The way she says it is natural and we both smile at it, my eyes fixed on her as she makes the tea, bringing over a steaming mug. “Lemon, sugar and milk. Everything a proper British breakfast tea needs.”

I take a sip and have to agree, it’s better than what I made yesterday as she sits down next to me, her eyes gleaming while she waits for my evaluation. “Delicious.”

“Good. Now, let’s see if we’ve got results,” she says, going professional as she turns her eyes to her computer. “Well, from nine terabytes of data, we’ve got a hundred items that contain either of the names. A good start.”

“Then lets read,” I say, bending in close to her. An hour later, our teas sit forgotten as we get both look at each other, fresh horror overwhelming Larissa as we review the latest document, an e-mail from Reginald Finch.

“Lord Harlow,” Larissa says, blinking. “No fucking way.”

Larissa gets up, pacing back and forth as she tries to do the same. “Lord Harlow! The goddamn Lord High Steward!”

“Give me a head’s up,” I say. “I barely understand the system on the surface.”

Larissa turns to me, her eyes anguished. “There’s Eight Great Officers of State, a carryover from the medieval system. Most of the positions are ceremonial, because the official position has so much fucking power they can literally run roughshod over Parliament if the King or Queen doesn’t stop them via personal intervention. The Lord High Steward for five hundred years or so was one of those positions, all the bugger was supposed to do was hold one of the fucking crowns when a new King or Queen is coronated. Until two years ago, when they suddenly named Lord Harlow as the Lord High Steward. Of course to the public it’s just a blank honor for a man who’s being rewarded for being friends with the crown, and a way to make sure things go smoothly when the old girl finally decides to hand over the keys to Charles or William. But on paper, the only thing stopping him from running the whole damned country is the crown itself.”

“And this says that he’s one of the heads of The Circle,” I finish for her. “Larissa...”

“I know!” she says, running her hands through her hair. “Him and...”

“And Robert Kershaw,” I complete again. “The Kingmaker.”

“Now it’s your turn,” Larissa says. “Who is this fucker?”

“They call him the Kingmaker because he’s literally made Presidents, and I mean plural,” I reply, leaning back. “He’s a billionaire, but that’s not the big thing for him, his money’s old money going back all the way to the founding of the country. His big thing is his connections. He’ll give a million or so of his own money come each election cycle, but that’s barely the interest the fucker gets on his bank accounts. No, what he does is he picks out the people he thinks are best for running the country, and he puts them in the right places to meet the right people. Sometimes it’s through scholarships, sometimes internships, sometimes just by making introductions. The conspiritards can talk all they want about Skull & Bones or the Bohemian Grove, but the fact is that three of the past four presidents were put on their path by him. I don’t even know how many governors, Senators, all that also got put in position by him. You think The Network has their tendrils in the government? You’ve probably got Network girls rubbing elbows with people Kershaw’s picked out right now.”

“You say three of the last four. Which one wasn’t?” Larissa asks, and I look up at her.

“The current one. You thinking the same thing I am?” I ask, and Larissa nods. “They were sending a message.”

Larissa nods. “And another thing,” she says, coming over and pulling up another document. “Read. I clicked through fast because it pissed me off too much.”

I take a minute and read the one page e-mail, this one from Pinchot to Finch and Harlow both. “Harlow… he’s the one who funded your kidnapping as a child.”

Larissa nods, tenting her fingers under her chin as her dark eyes take in the glowing words. “This motherfucker… it’s because of him. All of it.”

Suddenly Larissa stands up, going over to the counter and grabbing her keys. “I need your help, Stephen. I know what I’m asking is insane, but I still need to ask.”

I stand up, coming over and taking her hands. “You don’t need to ask. We put a bullet in this fucker. Preferably a high caliber one.”

Larissa swallows, looking into my eyes. “I’m willing to die over this, even if I don’t want to. But Stephen, even if this works… you do this, and you are a rogue agent. There’s no way the CIA will condone this hit.”

I nod, reaching out and cupping her cheek. “I know. Now, where are you going?”

“To get a hard drive. If we are to live past this, we need to have something to hold over them… that data is it. If you could please… start working the setup on the hit?”

I nod, not smiling at all. “Yes, my Lady.”

She doesn’t smile, she doesn’t chuckle, but in her eyes I can see she understands. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Would you like an ice cream while I’m out?”

“Sure. Plain vanilla, if you don’t mind. You know how boring my tastes are.”

That gets a small smirk from Larissa, who pats my cheek before getting in the car and driving off. I watch the tail lights go before I turn around and start my own work, figuring out how to conduct an assassination on one of the most powerful men in the entire UK.

Larissa

It takes us another week to work out the hit using the information available on Lord Harlow, and each day I feel myself getting more and more nervous. Finally, we have the last of the details worked out“That’s it,” he says, closing the boot of our car, where we've packed all the equipment. “Nothing we can do except get some sleep.”

“Yes there is,” I say, reaching out and taking his hand. “Stephen, if we’re going to do this, I need something.”

“What?” he asks, and I place his hand on my breast, covering it with my own. “I thought....”

“And that’s what I said. But Stephen, this isn’t about feeling better about reading bad things, I’m past that. What I need… I need to place my life in your hands more than ever before. I need to dare myself to trust you with everything I am, more than just my body. Stephen… I need this. I need no limits.”

Stephen nods gravely, his hand tightening on my breast until it’s nearly painful, but it’s a delicious feeling. “Do you have the right accessories here for this?”

I nod, taking his hand and leading him to my bedroom, where I open one of my cabinets. “It’s not everything, but this… this will do.”

Stephen lifts each item out, studying it before setting it on top of my dresser table, each one as familiar to him now after the months of study with me as riding a bicycle. Finally, when he’s taken out everything, he turns and looks at me, the professional agent gone and the alpha male who has stirred my very soul for months now in front of me. “Strip. Now. And stand in front of the bed, you know the proper position.”

His powerful words and tone send a jolt down my spine and I hurry to obey, folding all my clothes properly before standing in front of the bed, my feet together, my arms crossed behind my back and my eyes looking down, my hair carefully pulled over my shoulder to hang as a single unit.

Stephen picks something up from the dresser, and I see the tip of a riding crop come up, lifting my chin until I’m looking him in the eye. “No limits, you say?”

“No sir.”

He nods, tracing the flat edge of the crop over my neck and down between my breasts to my belly button before bringing it back up, caressing the scar on my cheek. “Tell me Larissa. Are you shamed by this scar?”

I swallow, seeing the look in his eyes and thanking him inside. Physical discomfort I can handle, I’ve dished out and taken enough… but psychological challenges, only he’s been able to touch me there. “At first I was, sir. Not any more.”

“Why?” he asks, lifting the crop away and putting it over his shoulder. “What meaning does it have for you?”

“You… you are the one who gave it to me, sir. You took an injury and made something beautiful out of it,” I reply, and I see my answer shakes him. “You made me stronger and more beautiful.”

“And you are beautiful,” he says, the crop flashing from his shoulder to smack against my right breast, stinging hard. “I am proud of it too.”

The pain is wonderful, the sting sending a jolt straight to my pussy as he takes me in, studying my body but not looking down on me at all. “Thank you, sir.”

He swings the crop again, this time the tip smacking into my thigh, close enough to the cleft between my legs that a shiver of fear shoots through me, but then it’s gone, and I trust in him. “You were crafted by the hands of a wonderful creator, but I’ve enhanced that beauty,” he says, coming around and cropping my ass. “And marked you as mine, you know.”

His? Could it be that, after the weeks of dancing around the one thing that we won’t talk about, the elephant in the room that has weighed in every conversation, every time we’ve had sex since we arrived here in the UK, is he really…?

“Focus, Larissa, your focus is drifting,” he warns, smacking my buttcheek again. “I think I have just the thing to bring you into focus.”

He steps away, going to the dresser and putting the crop down before picking up my nipple clamps with silver chain between them, the weight adding to the pull on my body. He comes over, kissing me tenderly while his right thumb teases my nipple and makes me moan, warmth filling my body as he strokes me to painful tightness before he steps back, attaching the clamp before lifting my left breast to his lips and sucking. My thighs tremble it feels so amazing as he nibbles and sucks while my right breast burns under the clamps tug before he removes his mouth and attaches the other clamp, both of my nipples on fire from the sensation. “Now you can focus. Can’t you?”

“Yes sir,” I gasp, and I feel the first droplets of wetness trickle down the inside of my thighs.

“Good. Are you mine, Larissa?” he asks, tugging on the chain lightly so that my eyes roll back in my head it’s so powerful. Am I his? Am I his?

“Yes sir. I’m yours.”

He stops tugging, letting my eyes focus again as he looks deep into my eyes, powerful and vulnerable at the same time in a way that nobody before him has ever looked at me. “How many others have you said that to?”

I swallow, unlocking the last of the gates inside me and showing him everything. “Nobody, sir. In all my training, in all my time since I became aware of this side of me… nobody. I’ve called two men sir, and one woman Mistress. All were teachers of mine at MI6. And those were sexual titles only. Giving myself… you’re my first.”

He nods, kissing my lips again before pulling me in, his hands holding my wrists behind my back as his tongue winds around mine, my breasts with their tortured nipples crushed against his chest, and for the first time, I understand the type of submission that he requires of me. It’s not of the body, it’s of the spirit and soul, of the heart, but if I do… he’ll raise me up as his equal. It’s contradictory, it’s illogical… and it makes perfect sense.

He releases me, taking my hands out from behind my back to turn me around and place them on the corners of my footboard, wrapping my fingers around the curved balls at the end of the maple posts. “Spread your legs, too. Not too wide, I want your ass at just the right height for me.”

I obey, gripping the board and spreading my legs what I think is the right amount, his hum of appreciation telling me when to stop. “You obey so well, Larissa,” he murmurs in my ear, running a hand down my backbone and sending fresh tremors through my body. “I must be special, for such a powerful woman to submit to me so well.”

“You are special, sir,” I whisper, turning to look at him. “So special.”

He smiles and turns, wrapping the cord around my right wrist before tying it off to the bed post, then doing the same with my left. With the chain on my nipple clamps now tugging downward, every breath and every heartbeat makes it tremble, waves of pleasure and pain coursing through my body as I lower my head for a moment before raising it, looking ahead as he steps back to study me. “You’re special too, you know.”

He comes around the bed to where I can see him as he slowly, sensually strips, his powerful muscles flexing as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off before removing his pants and then his underwear, his perfect cock springing out as soon as it’s free. He looks down, wrapping his fingers around his shaft and teasing me with a few pumps as if he’s not going to use it on me but just make me watch him pleasure himself. It’s torture and arousal wrapped in one, and he smiles when I moan uncontrollably as a drop of his precum comes to the mushroom tip and he wipes it away, holding it out to me. “Say please.”

“Please, sir,” I beg, not ashamed at all as he slips his finger between my lips and I taste his sweetness. Oh god, to honor this man on my knees like last time… focus, Larissa. He wants focus. “Thank you, sir.”

“I can read your eyes, Larissa. But not this time. This time, I want to see how much this splendid body of yours can take. Now, you are not allowed to come until I give you permission,” he says, letting go of his cock and disappearing from sight. I hear him pick up some more toys from the dresser and then there’s the touch of a smooth, hard tip against my asshole, and I look back to see him slip a vibrator plug inside, opening my body before turning it on. The smooth hum seems to not be sound as much as feeling, my ass warming and clenching around the rim of the plug, and I’m gushing down my leg it feels good. “My my Larissa, don’t tell me you’re going to be pushed over by just this?”

Teasing me? Oh, you are so good for me…. “No sir. Give me your best, please, sir.”

He chuckles, and suddenly there’s a whisper through the air before the tails of the cat land on my back, delicious heat and pain mixing with the sensations from my ass and my nipples. “Count!”

“One sir!” I gasp, loving it.

“Good. Now, how old are you, Larissa?” he asks, swinging the cat again, this time a little lower.

“Twenty nine, sir!” I reply, then add, “Two, sir!”

“Very good. Let’s see if you can hold out to thirty, that’s one to grow on,” he says. He swings again and I’m nearly overwhelmed, he’s so powerful. He’s pushing my body to its very limits, and with each whispery smack I count, eight, nine, ten….

“Who do you belong to?” he asks, and it’s fifteen before I can work up the brain power to answer, I’m so overloaded.

“You, sir… I belong to Stephen Knightsbridge,” I groan, pure joy filling me as the words escape my lips. I’ve never said that before, even when I was an actual slave, but to say I belong to Stephen is just right and amazing.

He swings the cat hard, back and forth over my back and even my ass, lighting me up until my entire body burns with the sting of the cat’s tails and the incredible pleasure of the vibrator in my ass, the sway of my nipples, the feeling of his eyes on me as I take everything and bear it, my cries not of pain but of pleasure and ecstasy.

“Thirty sir!” I cry, and he throws the cat across the room in one smooth motion, stepping up and slamming his cock into my dripping wet pussy, both of us crying out it feels so good. He takes my body, his thick, heavy cock pounding in and out of me like a runaway freight train, destroying any resistance I have to him. He’s panting, the sting of his sweat on my raw skin as it falls from his forehead a blessing.

My pussy is overloaded from the tightness of his cock even as my ass is filled by the vibrator, and I’m trembling, my head feeling like it’s about to explode as I hold onto not coming only by sheer force of will and the desire to please this man, this wonderful man who deserves the title that no man has ever earned from me before.

“Permission… granted...” he grunts, and like an avalanche my orgasm starts, ripping from my bent over pussy and ass and exploding out through my body. My lungs clench for a breathless moment, and I’m caught as my heart stops, a tremendous pressure building in my chest until he cries out, his cock erupting deep within me like an injection of life giving energy, rocketing up my spine and kick starting everything again to explode with my own orgasm in my brain, my scream primal and raw and a sound I’ve never made before, the sound of total and complete fulfillment.

When we finally can move again, he releases me carefully before lifting me in his arms and laying me on the bed on my side, letting my back and ass feel the air rather than the impossible to deal with sting of even my silk sheets. He comes around, laying down in front of me, his eyes swimming with emotion. “Larissa...”

“Sir,” I murmur, smiling sleepily. “My true sir… thank you.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, cupping my cheek. “Larissa, there’s something I want to say, but now isn’t the time. But I’m also man enough to admit I’m afraid there won’t be a chance to say it in the future.”

I put my hand over his, shaking my head. “Keep it. If you haven’t told me, it’ll give you the motivation to get through this. Trust me, I will be more than willing to listen when the time is right.”

He nods, leaving his hand where it is. “Okay then. Then for now, sleep my beautiful lady. For tomorrow, we go hunting a Lord.”

* * *

The woods are thick, beautiful old English style woods that ring the estate of one of the most powerful men in the country outside the royal family. Perhaps even more powerful than them.

“Nice estate,” Stephen whispers as we set up our sniper’s nest. It’s not my normal method of assassination, but then again, getting close enough to fuck him and poison him isn’t in the realm of possibility. “How much money does this fucker have again?”

“Enough to not have to worry about how much money he has in his account,” I whisper in reply, keeping low. The Ghillie suits we’re wearing are hot, and we’ve spent twelve hours creeping the distance needed to get close enough for this shot. I don’t want to blow it. Sadly, even with all of our prep, we’re still nearly six hundred meters away, at the range where so many things can go wrong, I’m nervous.

Thankfully, I’ve got the best rifle in the world on my shoulder, and Stephen’s acting as both my spotter and my security, his M4 not giving him range, but plenty of firepower to go with my AWM rifle. In some ways I wish Stephen could take this shot, but this rifle was tuned and outfitted for me. Besides, this man turned my life on its head, this is my shot.

“He’s scheduled for a fox hunt in an hour,” Stephen whispers while I extend my rifle’s bipod legs. “He should be emerging soon.”

“If not, he’ll be back afterwards,” I whisper, slowly extending my rifle into position. I hope that we’re in time, the longer we sit in these suits, the greater the chance one of the other animals in the area, or even one of the other hunters, will find us. Besides, I don’t like fox hunts, not the way Harlow does them. Half a dozen men, on horses with three hounds each to go after one fox? Hardly sporting, in my opinion.

There’s a bit of movement ahead, and Stephen brings up his scope, scanning the area while I look through my scope. “An attendant, leading a horse. Nice mount.”

“That’ll be Harlow’s horse,” I reply. “He always has been a horse lover. Breeds the damn things actually.”

“We’ve all got our hobbies, I guess.”

We wait as the attendant gives the horse a final brush down before saddling it. Other attendants start to bring their mounts out, none of them as fine as Harlow’s horse of course, and time ticks by at an agonizing slowness. Finally, just when I’m getting fully into the mental state ready, I see the back door of the estate open, and Lord Harlow leads his friends out for their hunt. He’s dressed traditionally, a red hunting jacket along with tight breeches and knee high boots that look only slightly ridiculous with their old fashioned stylings. He exchanges a joke with one of his friends, and I almost take the shot, but he’s too close to everyone else. I want one shot, one kill, no mistakes.

“I’m ready,” I whisper, waiting while in my scope the ten times magnified image of Harlow goes over to his horse, disappearing behind it for a moment before his hand emerges and he swings himself smoothly up and into the saddle, adjusting himself quickly before looking around and smiling down at one of his companions.

The tension comes out of the trigger under my finger as I barely stroke my finger, his red hunting jacket providing a perfect target for me to aim at. Everything’s perfect as the rifle surprises me with the shot, just like I’ve been trained, and at that instant I know that I’ve got a hit. The .338 Magnum round hits with enough force to devastate even military grade body armor at this range, and Harlow has nothing on except for worsted wool covering his chest as the round hits him at supersonic speed, the bullet tearing through him so quickly that it’s in and through the other side before he can even react. He seems to look surprised at first as his chest explodes, his heart and lungs erupting out of the twin holes as their liquidated contents start to jet for a moment before he falls out of his saddle, bouncing off the turf.

The sound of my rifle shot finally reaches the group and the horses are startled, this hunt wasn’t to use guns but just dogs. Even Harlow’s horse is spooked as his rider tumbles, adding to the general chaos, and I quickly pull my rifle back, retracting the bipod and glancing at Stephen. “Evac time.”

Stephen nods, and we start creeping backwards, not rushing. We spend another twenty minutes going the two hundred meters backwards to give us a half mile gap on the now frantic scene before we get up, dumping our suits while keeping our rifles with us as we escape back through the woods, our car five miles away before we can start to feel safe.

“You doing okay?” Stephen asks as he drives, a different rental than what we’ve used, another security precaution, our rifles broken down and hidden in the sporting rack on the roof. “You’re quieter than I thought you’d be.”

I think, nodding after a mile or so. “I am. I thought my first shooting assassination would be different for me, and maybe this one was. But… I feel the same inside. I was a little worried that this one would change me.”

“How so?” Stephen asks, making the next turn smoothly. “Because of who it was?”

I nod, leaning my seat back to look at the roof of the car. “Part of me was worried that, while I’ve always said that all of my… uniqueness is because of who I am, that by taking out Harlow, I’d be taking out someone who made me who I am. That I’d find myself not wanting to be who I am. But as we made our way through the hills and back to this car, I kept thinking about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Stephen asks, and I look over at him, grinning.

“How much I adore the way my back feels after two days ago. That the sting is all the better because of you… sir.”

Stephen smiles and glances over, his eyes glowing. “Good. Because I would hate to have to let you go just after you said you belong to me.”

“One more step,” I reply, reaching for my cell phone. “One more target, this time yours. Ready?”

Stephen hums and drives while I dial, hoping that he’ll pick up, it’ll make it easier if he does. When the line is picked up, I’m surprised by the feminine voice that answers. “Well well my friend and teacher, what sort of hell are you raising now?”

“Hello Jessica... I need your help.”

Stephen

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Maine, and coming in on a fishing boat that stopped just a little more north than it should to pick up a couple of new ‘passengers’ that came in from England provides for a unique experience. When we’re greeted at the docks by a man in an Armani suit along with a blonde woman who’s dressed to impress as well, my surprise is complete.

“Well, well, well… you certainly know how to make an entrance,” Larissa tells the man before the two of them start talking in rapid, liquid Italian that sounds like it’s pleasant at least. I look at the woman, who’s following what their saying, and it takes me a moment to recognize that the elegant necklace she’s wearing isn’t a necklace at all… it’s a collar.

She notices, and takes a step closer, smiling. “Hello. I’m Jessica. Don’t worry about them, ever since they realized they shared more than an interest in BDSM in common, they always have greeted each other like long lost siblings.”

“So that thing around your neck isn’t just a fashion statement,” I ask, and she shakes her head, smiling gently.

“No, it isn’t. I have a wedding ring of course, but this… this means more to me,” she says. “Come on, it’s a little chilly on this damn dock, if we can?”

At her question the man turns, and I get my first look at Rodrigo. He’s a little taller than me, with black hair and a bit of natural tan to his skin that tells me his Italian might be native. “Of course, my love. And it’s a long ride back to New York.”

There’s two vehicles actually, and I’m surprised when Jessica puts a hand on Larissa’s shoulder and leads her over to the other one, while Rodrigo waves me over to the other car, a Lincoln Continental. “Jessica asked me on the way up here if she and Larissa could have some time together, just the girls. It’ll give us a chance to talk too.”

I bristle a little, reminding myself that Larissa said Rodrigo is a dominant as well, and can come off as a bit of an asshole at first. Instead of telling him to go to hell I nod, looking over with a little worry at Larissa, but she’s smiling and unconcerned, and when I finally sit down in the Continental, Rodrigo looks over from the driver’s seat, nodding. “So that’s how it is.”

“What?” I ask, and Rodrigo laughs.

“You’ve got feelings for her. I already knew that she cared about you, the way she would bitch about you for a while, then the way those complaints changed. You know, I never thought any man would tame Larissa.”

I glance over at Rodrigo, trying not to laugh out loud. “You must not know her as well as you say you do if you think Larissa can be tamed. And to be honest, it pisses me off a little that you’d even say something so fucking retarded.”

Rodrigo’s eyes flash, and I realize he’s not someone who’s used to being spoken to like this, but then he chuckles. “I underestimated you. It’ll be nice getting to know you.”

“I wouldn’t,” I reply, a trifle sadly. “You know that no matter what, this probably isn’t going to end well. For her or I.”

“What do you mean?” Rodrigo asks, and I shake my head, looking out on the late fall weather. “Seriously Stephen, I know I look like a fucking gangster, and most of the time I feel like one too. But I’m an agent too.”

I look out the window, watching as the miles roll by, trying to formulate the words that have troubled me ever since Larissa and I called him for help. “It’s not going to be over with what we came to do. I take out Kershaw, and it’s still not over. Larissa’s content with making sure the UK head is taken out, but there was another name that I read in the files on the flight over, someone that worries me more than Kershaw even.”

“Who?” Rodrigo asks, and I take a deep breath, knowing that I can at least reveal to Rodrigo the emotions that I’ve been unable to share with Larissa.

“I started a cross-reference search through the hard drives, by the way I have a copy for you in our bags, for anyone else that we might be missing. And there’s a codename that keeps popping up. Runway,” I tell him. “I can’t get any more information than that, whoever this Runway is, or maybe it’s a group, they seem to be some sort of transporter or something. But don’t you see, Rodrigo? One search gives us two names. And I take it one step more, and there’s another name, not even a name but a fucking alias! So what happens after Kershaw? We go looking for Runway? Or whoever shows up next? We’re taking about a group that’s smaller than your Network, but even more powerful, more connected, deadlier. And… I just have this feeling, like it’s not going to work out, that’s all. We’ll always be running from someone or something.”

“She sort of told me the same thing when we were talking in Italian,” Rodrigo says quietly. “Something I asked her about after she’d sent me an e-mail. I asked her if you were her knight in shining armor, and her reply is one of the main reasons I’m glad Jessica is taking Larissa with her back to the city.”

“What was her answer?” I ask curiously.

“She said that for girls like her, there are no knights, no happy endings. She said that in another time, another universe, maybe. But in this world, the most she can hang onto is knowing that she found a man strong enough for her, even if it’s only a little while. I won’t try and tell you what to do or to say, but if I can offer a little bit of advice. There aren’t too many women of Larissa’s quality in the world any more. Don’t let go of someone like her unless you have no other option. Even then, you might not want to let go.”

I think about it, nodding. “Still, I have family. My sister. She’s… she’s strange, and being with Larissa the way we have, it’s weird for me to even say that, and I think she wouldn’t understand Larissa. But at the same time, Vic needs me. I don’t know how I’m going to try and handle that. Never mind all the other bullshit about our lives.”

“You think the CIA is going to take you back?” Rodrigo asks, and I shrug. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it doesn’t really matter. I’m trying to do the right thing, to stop girls like Larissa or Chastity Hendricks from being… well, what happened to one and nearly happened to the other. Maybe I’m just being a dumbass idealist, maybe I’m being emotional knowing how close Larissa has become to me… but she’s right, I don’t think there’s going to be a happy ending. If I can at least stop that, then I guess I’ll be doing the best I can in this situation.”

“You guys have a plan?” Rodrigo asks. “You know, if you’re right, Kershaw isn’t going to make it easy on you.”

I nod, Larissa and I discussed the problem. “I know. I also know that it has to be done. The stuff we read, Rodrigo… Harlow was ready to hold the crown by the balls, plain and simple. Kershaw, we know what he’s done. I can’t sleep knowing that a man like that, who just casually ordered that Chastity Hendricks be kidnapped and… the other shit that happened to her before she was killed, I can’t let a man like that be the motherfucker deciding who gets to be the fucking President.”

Rodrigo nods, humming. “Okay then. Let’s get you two to a safe house I’ve got in the city, you can sleep off the jet lag, and then...”

“Then it’s my turn.”

* * *

I guess I shouldn’t think it strange that my target and Rodrigo live in the same city. After all, New York is the unofficial nerve center of the eastern US, and some people even call it the unofficial capital of the world. New York is the sort of place that a man like Samuel Kershaw can call home.

The building isn’t the newest building in the Upper West Side overlooking Central Park, but it is one of the most distinguished, and as I make my way in, the doorman gives me a haughty look. “The service entrance is in the back.”

“Oh, my bad,” I say, shifting my tool bag under my arm and looking a little lost. “You mind buzzing me in then? The Gilberts are chewing my boss’ ear off about their damn garbage disposal.”

The doorman rolls his eyes, and is about to call the Gilberts (thankfully Rodrigo knows someone who could give me a full listing of the tenants in the building) when Larissa walks up, dressed like a million bucks. “I’m here to see the property manager, I have an appointment? The name is Harbaugh.”

Larissa’s dressed so sexily that even I’m distracted a little by the deep valley of cleavage that she’s showing off inside her outfit straight from Fashion Avenue, but the doorman looks like he’s been slapped in the head with a large cushion or something, an understandable situation to any heterosexual man who’s getting the full Larissa effect for the first time. No wonder she was so successful as a seductress and assassin. With those violet eyes, dark lashes and knockout body, the doorman’s unable to resist as he practically trips over himself. Even her scar is mostly hidden by some judicious makeup, and what’s left actually adds to her exoticness.

“Of course, Miss Harbaugh. If you would please… oh, and just come in this way, try to stay quiet if you can,” he says over his shoulder to me as he walks Larissa through the door. Just before she disappears, Larissa looks over her shoulder and gives me a saucy wink, and I feel bad for the property manager, whoever they are. She’s going to have them eating out of her hands in five minutes flat knowing her.

I take the service elevator up to the forty eighth floor, as high as I can go without needing a special key for the two floors that belong to Samuel Kershaw, and then use a lock pick to gain access to the stairwell. I’m glad that the doorman didn’t look through my tool bag. Although he probably wouldn’t have been able to figure out what some of this stuff is for, it certainly isn’t for taking out someone’s sink trap.

It’s a bit of a risk going into his penthouse during the day, but then again, with a man like Kershaw it’s maybe safer than doing it at night. Few people are going to question a plumber at three in the afternoon. Everyone questions a plumber at three in the morning, even in New York.

The security system is good, but I’ve got CIA level technology on my side, and it only takes me fifteen seconds to disable his electronic security systems. Considering what I know about Kershaw, I seriously doubt that he’s got internal cameras, or if they are they certainly aren’t being monitored by the guys downstairs.

I enter carefully, not knowing if there’s anyone else home, the compact .22LR pistol I’m carrying tucked in the long sleeve of my hooded sweatshirt. This isn’t a planned shooting, although I’m ready to do that if I have to. No, as I silently walk through the penthouse, looking for his bedroom, I feel another side of me come out, the side that at first I was disgusted with when I tortured Arthur Pinchot, but now feels like it’s totally justified. Kershaw is more than a corrupting pedophile, he’s more than a rapist. Whatever connections he’s got, he sent a CIA hit squad after me, and in doing so he hurt Larissa. No… this time I’ve got other plans for Samuel Kershaw.

I hear a soft whimpering coming from my right and I slow, my hand resting on the doorknob. It’s a woman’s voice, I’m not here for a woman. But I’m also not here to kill innocent people, and if Kershaw isn’t home, I’ve got enough plastic explosives in here to turn this penthouse into an outhouse. I open the door.

What I see steels my resolve to kill this man as I see the girl, she can’t be older than ten, bound and tied to the bed inside, wearing light pajamas at least but that’s it. He tied a gag around her mouth, and the whimpering sound is her attempts at trying to get the attention of someone. Hurrying over, I pull the knife on my hip and hold up my fingers, shushing her when she starts to yell louder. “Shh… my name’s Stephen. I’m here to help you.”

She quiets a little while I tug the gag free and start sawing at the nylon strap that’s around her right wrist. When she speaks, she’s got a Hispanic accent, although her English is clear enough. “Are you… are you from the police?”

“No sweetie, I’m not,” I whisper. “The man who did this to you, where is he?”

“He said he was going to take a siesta,” she whispers. “He said after that he’d…”

“I understand sweetie,” I whisper. “Do you have other clothes? It’s cold outside.”

The girl nods, pointing with her free hand to a closet in the corner. I cut the straps around her other wrist and then her ankles, and point. “Go get dressed warmly. I’ll take care of the man, then get you out of here.”

I leave the room, moving faster now. I find Samuel Kershaw in his bedroom, stirring sleepily as he wakes up from an afternoon nap, a squeak of fear coming from his throat when he sees me standing at the foot of his bed, murder in my eyes. Still, I gotta give it to him, he doesn’t freak out, but instead just acts like death at the foot of your bed is an everyday occurrence. “Well, took you long enough. After you hit Dover and then shot Harlow, I wondered if I was just being paranoid when you didn’t come after me for a few weeks.”

“Took time to get over here,” I whisper, trying to decide if I should shoot him or carve him up with my knife. A fast death is too kind for this monster, but at the same time the longer I’m here, the greater the chance I have of being discovered and stopped. “Who’s Runway?”

Kershaw raises an eyebrow a fraction of an inch, folding his hands over his generous potgut under the sheet. “Won’t you be surprised when you find out. I won’t ruin the excitement for you though.”

“I could make it painful for you,” I threaten, raising my knife. Kershaw shrugs, chuckling with the ice that he’s got for blood in his veins.

“I’m going to die either way, I can see that in your eyes. At least now I know that I’ll have that one thing to take to my grave that will comfort me when I’m in hell. And there’s no way you’ll take the risk of not getting Consuela out of here to take enough time to break me. So do what you came to do,” he says, leering. “Shoot an unarmed old man in his bed.”

He thinks that I’ll pause, that I’ll try and do things the right way, to arrest him or at least give him a chance. That may have been the man I was when I started this mission… “Okay.”

It’s not who I am now. I raise my pistol and fire, the subsonic rounds barely louder than champagne corks popping as I put seven rounds in his chest before putting the last three in his head, the final one coming around to press the tip of my barrel against his eyeball and making sure the small round is a killer. His head bounces off his pillow slightly from the force, and then it’s over. I turn and leave, stopping at the door to take one item out of my pocket, a thirty two gigabyte memory stick filled with information taken from the Dover hard drives. It’s barely a drop in the bucket, but maybe it’ll send the messages I want sent to the right people.

Back in Consuela’s room, I see her dressed, her skinny legs in dirty jeans, a patched jacket around her shoulders. “Ready?”

“Vamanos,” she says, and I lead her out, down the stairwell three flights before getting back on the service elevator and walking out. On the street, I pull my cell phone and send Larissa the clear code before I call Rodrigo, who picks up.

“Yeah?”

“It’s done. With a complication,” I say, leading Consuela towards the subway. She’s obedient, trusting me, and I hope it sticks for a while longer. “A little girl.”

“Bring her to the safe house, I’ll be there to take care of it. You okay?” he asks, and when I don’t answer, he reads my silence perfectly. “Gotcha. See you at the safe house.”

* * *

“So…” Larissa says sadly, looking at the bag over my shoulder. “Here we are again. Are you sure?”

I nod, reaching out and taking her hand. Rodrigo took Consuela away with a promise to see her taken care of right an hour ago, leaving just the two of us. Part of me wants what I can see in Larissa’s eyes, I want to stay and hold her, to take her to bed and comfort her. To give her what we know can’t happen.

“It’ll be easier if I take off quickly,” I answer, my voice hoarse. “If I stay tonight, it’ll be that much harder in the morning, and then that much harder tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.”

“Is that such a bad thing though?” Larissa asks, her voice unsure for the first time I’ve ever known her. “I mean, to want to stay with someone?”

“It isn’t,” I rasp, my throat closing with emotion. “But this group, they could threaten us still. Your parents, at least your father’s MI5, he can get some protection and he’s got training. But my sister Victoria, she’s a fashion consultant. She goes to Europe all the time, she goes all over the world. I have to make sure she understands at least, that she can try and keep herself safe.”

“And I have to go back to The Network,” Larissa whispers sadly. “If I’ve to have any chance to keep hurting these bastards, I have to go back to Kalamata. I can’t have Dover and The Network going after me. So will I…?”

I see the question in her eyes and it tears at my heart. I cup her cheek, looking into those beautiful violet eyes, smiling. “I hope so. You have shown me so much, I’d hate to think I’ll never have the chance to learn more.”

“Of course… sir,” Larissa whispers, choking out the last word. “Well then, not goodbye but see you later?”

She steps closer and I give her a hug and a quick kiss, not trusting myself to do more or else I’ll never leave. Instead I turn and walk, each step feeling like I’m walking through molasses as I get into the old Ford Taurus that Rodrigo is letting me use, only risking to look back after I’ve already got the engine running and I’m pulling away from the safe house to see Larissa wiping at her cheeks.

I try to do everything I can to think of anything but Larissa as I head down the Interstate towards Virginia, my eyes watering from the headlights of the semis going the other way in my face. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. When I stop for gas in Pennsylvania I chug two energy drinks before moving on, forcing myself into looking forward to seeing Victoria again. Since the hit, I’ve only been able to call her once, keeping it short in order to stay safe. Still, I’ve worried about her constantly, and I hope she’s doing well.

Her house is quiet, but the car’s out in front when I get home. Then again, it is only about six thirty in the morning, maybe she had a fashion event last night. I unlock the door using the spare key that we hid in the garden gnome and go inside, staying quiet. “Vic? Hey sis, you home?”

The gunshot shatters the morning quiet to hit me in my right arm, grooving my bicep and making me groan in pain, my left hand clamping on the wound as I see Victoria step out of the kitchen, a huge Sig-Sauer in her hands. “You. You ruined everything.”

“What?” I ask, the exhaustion of the past day, the driving, getting shot, and everything else making the world swim, my mind not focused. “Vic, it’s me.”

“No shit!” she says, squeezing the trigger on her gun again. I dodge just in time, she’s got too much gun for her body and she’s struggling to aim it, the big round slamming into the wall just over my shoulder as I dive into the living room, looking for something to protect myself with. “It was supposed to be you the whole time!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to keep her talking. I get behind the couch, looking for something but only finding a dropped paperback. Great. “Victoria, you’re in danger, what are you on?”

“Danger? I am the danger!” Victoria says with a maniacal laugh. “You were supposed to be my man, not hers!”

“I’m your brother, not your lover!” I yell, popping up and throwing the paperback, but my arm screams as I try and my throw isn’t good for much more than distracting her as I dart through the door into the kitchen. An insane thought goes through my head, I’m playing hide and seek with Victoria just like we did when we were kids, only this time the stakes are a lot higher. “I was on a mission!”

“No shit, Kershaw called me the night before you killed him, we talked about it! He wanted to know if you were going to come after him!” Victoria yells, firing blindly through the wall into the kitchen. I quickly grab a frying pan and the big chef’s knife, it ain’t much but it’s better than nothing. And what she just said…

“You’re in The Circle?” I ask, and suddenly it makes sense. Runway. It wasn’t a nickname for a transporter because of liking airplanes but… “You’re the recruiter, aren’t you… Runway?”

“Good name for a former fashion model,” Victoria says, and I dart out of the kitchen, looking for her. “And the job put me in touch with just the right people. The Hendricks cunt, she was so easy to convince to come with me, to go meet some high fashion types… and you had to ruin it all. All of it!”

“How could you… we’re siblings!” I scream, anger and rage and horror flooding me. “You led her to her death?”

“We’re not siblings!” Victoria yells, firing again as I back up the hallway. There’s only the bedrooms back here, no way out. “You’re the only fucking miracle baby!”

“What?” I ask, stunned. “But Vic, you… you’re my sister.”

“Adopted,” Victoria says, laughing madly. I flatten myself against the wall in the bedroom, knowing I’m running out of options. “They couldn’t get it done, so they went baby shopping, found me. Took a few years, but it wasn’t until after the papers were signed that Mom found out she had a bun in her oven. They didn’t even tell me, but somehow I knew. When I found out for sure, I vowed that I’d get them back. I’d seduce you, you’d be my man and I’d have the good side to my life. You’d be my little plaything, a loser the CIA sends to say they did something, finding nothing but keeping everyone safe and happy. I was so close… until that Greek cunt!”

Victoria’s no trained gunman, and her hands are a good second behind her going through the door, enough time for me to bring the frying pan down into her gun with my left hand, the gun going off but not dropped as Victoria yells. I still grab her, pinning her against the wall in the hallway, dropping my knife as I do. “Why? WHY? WHY?”

“Because I loved you,” Victoria says, then she squeezes the trigger on her gun again and the round tears into my right thigh, making me groan in pain. “I loved you, and you tore my heart out. So now you have to die.”

She pushes me, trying to bring the gun up, but my training takes over and I pivot, grabbing her gun hand and twisting her wrist even as I fall, the barrel jammed between us as she falls on top of me, the impact driving the breath out of me as Victoria’s gun goes off one last time and she stiffens, the bullet tearing into her. I roll her, pulling the gun away as I look at the damage, horrified at what I’ve done. “Victoria, oh God Vic...”

“You… should have been mine…” Victoria says before she shudders and her head sags to the side, the death convulsions starting. I stay next to her before I get to my feet, turning and leaving the house. Maybe my finger wasn’t on the trigger, but I just killed my own sister, adoptive or not it doesn’t really matter. I loved her too. Maybe differently from the way she loved me… but that doesn’t matter any more.

I get behind the wheel of my car and start up the engine, driving away. It doesn’t really matter, but I need to get these wounds treated. Then… one word comes to my mind, a little mantra that gives me strength, and I find the motivation to get moving.

Larissa

“Mistress, are you sure there’s nothing I can do to ease your pain?” little Lihua says, handing me a cup of coffee on a saucer. “Since coming back...”

“It’s okay Lihua,” I reply, forcing myself to give her a smile. “If you’d like later, maybe I’ll take you downstairs to the club and work off a little tension.”

Lihua gives me a sad smile, shaking her head. “No offense Mistress, I know you’re not really into girls. And… this might not be my place to say it, but I am sure that you would prefer to be with someone else right now.”

I nod, running a hand through my hair. “Perhaps. Still, I’m supposed to be good to you, and I know I’ve ignored you for weeks.”

“Service to you is more than just sexual,” Lihua says quietly, bowing her head. “I can get my physical needs satisfied with my normal hours this evening. Please, try to relax, I’ll go take care of downstairs.”

Lihua turns and leaves, and I shake my head at her loyalty and dedication. She still doesn’t know the details behind my return to Kalamata, she just knows that Stephen didn’t come with me, and that he may never come again.

The fallout from our actions won’t be settled for a very long time, but at least it looks like I’m safe. MI6, after a few choice items on Lord Harlow were leaked to them from the Dover hard drives, is more than willing to pin it all on Stephen, and the Crown just wants it all to go away. Honestly, I’m not too sure if they care at all about if I keep working Deep Cover or not, they just want to put the whole thing behind them.

I don’t really care either. I’ve spent my entire life being the seducer, the one who walks away without being hurt, but now I understand what it’s like to be on the other side. Reading the newspaper story about Victoria Knightsbridge’s death, I could read between the lines, and I realized what happened. Stephen and I were both wrong as to who Runway was, and Kershaw was right, it was a surprise.

But for a month, I’ve been sinking deeper and deeper into a funk as the silence from Stephen stretches out. The newspapers don’t say anything about him, and MI6 won’t tell me shit, they’re just happy to have a little more to use to blame him for. The fucking bastards. Even when I’ve talked to Rodrigo, he says he’s heard nothing, just that the car he lent Stephen was found burned out on the side of the Interstate two weeks ago, a total torch job with no body inside. If anything, it screams CIA hit job, and this time they may have succeeded.

And so I’m lost. I sigh again and sip my coffee, at least a little grateful that I’ve got someone like Lihua in my life who will try and cushion the blow. My throat works, and I realize that I’m once again getting ready to cry, something that’s happened far too much over the past month, and I can’t even lie to myself and say I’ve got the winter blues.

Suddenly there’s a knock at my door and I quickly wipe my cheeks, sitting up behind my desk. “Yes?”

The door opens and Lihua comes in, grinning. “Mistress?”

“Lihua, I was thinking, perhaps right now you shouldn’t...” I start, stopping when I see the happy smile and tears that are rolling down her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“You need to come with me, Mistress,” Lihua says. “Downstairs.”

I get up, following her curiously as she beams, reaching back and taking my hand to lead me to the main club room. It’s still early, just Lihua and the bartender doing cleanup and making sure we’ve got everything we need for tonight, but there’s a third man standing in the middle of the room, his back to me, a black trenchcoat over his shoulders and a hat on. Lihua stops, beaming at me, before turning to the man. “Master?”

Time slows to a stop as he turns, and I see the eyes, the jawline… and I’m crossing the club, running without caring to jump into his arms, knocking him to a floor and making him groan in pain. “Stephen! Stephen!”

“Shhh… she shot me, it took me a while to get healed up,” he gasps. “Left leg scar, please?”

I look and realize that I’m pressing into his left thigh and I quickly get up, helping him to his feet when he stumbles slightly. “Sorry.”

Stephen chuckles and cups my face in that way he has, my heart thumping in my chest as he looks into my eyes. “I love you.”

There’s a crash as the bartender drops the glass that he’s washing, but I don’t even look as I take his hands in mine and swallow, my heart pounding as I feel the tears start again. “I… I love you, too. When I thought you’d been killed...”

“I know,” Stephen whispers, and then he’s kissing me, his lips healing all the fear and making me wake up out of the sleepwalk I’ve been in for the past month. “I would have come faster, but I had to make sure it was safe, and I couldn’t contact you until I knew for sure. But I came, and… I want to stay.”

His words give me a chance to catch my breath and I smile, looking in his eyes. “You want to stay?”

He nods, grinning. “Yeah. Fuck it, you’re right. If the whole world is corrupt, then I want to be with the one person I know who’s honest about her corruption. You’re pure, Larissa. I love you, and I want to stay with you.”

He kisses me again, and another heat joins the warmth of our reunion, and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him tighter. Our kiss deepens, his tongue swirling against mine and his hand coming down to pause at my waist, a clear desire in his eyes when he pulls back. “So… think I can get a job?”

I laugh, nodding. “I’m sure there’s a few positions you’re qualified for. Maybe we should have a tryout first?”

Stephen chuckles and pulls me closer, whispering in my ear. “And I know a few positions I would enjoy putting you in. But shouldn’t we go home first?”

I look around, realizing that Lihua’s still watching us with happy tears rolling down her face while my bartender is looking confused and shocked, the dropped glass still not swept up. “Club’s opening late tonight, for a party. In the meantime, you two take a long, very long lunch break.”

The bartender nods, Lihua staying frozen in place before she comes over, her eyes swimming with emotion. “Mistress?”

“It’s okay, Lihua. It’s all okay now.”

Stephen adds something in Chinese that makes Lihua’s eyes sparkle even more in happiness, and she bows deeply before turning and leaving, closing the door to the club behind her. “What did you say?”

“I told her that she is a fine girl and that there will be time for her to serve us later,” Stephen says. “I’ll start you on learning Chinese if you’ll work with me on learning Greek.”

“Italian first,” I tell him, turning to him and putting my arms around his neck. “The only position in my organization I have is one that deals with The Network, and most of the capo speak Italian. As for positions for me… whatever you want, sir.”

Stephen pulls me close, his voice growling slightly as his hands start to knead my ass. “And will you being my boss be a problem in other areas? For you, I mean.”

“No sir,” I whisper. “We’ll figure it out.”

We go to the upper level of the club, to one of the rooms that’s normally reserved for customers who like to use a bed for their domination, my hands trembling nervously the whole time. “Stephen… sir, I’ve never told that to anyone before.”

“Me either,” Stephen says, turning to me. “Not the way I mean it with you. I want to celebrate our love, and then the rest… well, you said party, Lihua’s probably going to have a full on bash ready for us when she comes back.”

“Then I don’t want to waste any more time,” I say, and he pulls me to him, both of us pulling and doing our best to take each other’s clothes off. I’m only peripherally aware that he’s wearing a suit under his trenchcoat as he takes off my blouse, burying his head between my breasts and kissing them, picking me up as we get the rest of our clothes off and go tumbling to the bed, our hands roaming over each other and my heart singing arias of joy as I feel his skin pressed against me. Laying side by side, he kisses me tenderly, and I start crying harder, tears of joy. “Sir...”

“You’re mine, Larissa. And I’m yours too,” he whispers. “That’s all that counts.”

I nod, stopping when my hands run over the fresh scar tissue on his right arm. “She shot you twice?”

“Yeah… later,” he says quietly, intensely. “I need to tell someone, but this isn’t the time. This is the time for the woman I love.”

He kisses down my neck, lavishing attention to the curves of my neck and collarbones, his hands stroking and caressing my legs and hips as our bodies press together, Stephen rolling me onto my back and pinning me underneath him. “I like you in this position.”

I feel his cock throbbing against my leg and I shift my hips, wrapping my legs around his waist and moaning as his slides over my clit, but not inside me. “I like this nearly perfectly, sir.”

“Patience, my queen,” he murmurs, and I hum happily. Queen, his queen. Hell of a lot better than being a dryad.

Stephen kisses down to my breasts, nuzzling and biting on my nipples just hard enough to make me cry out in happiness, his hands stroking over my skin and pulling me into him while he feasts on my nipples. My head swims as he kisses down from my breast to my scar tissue, licking it before coming back up and kissing my lips tenderly. “Every scar, every flaw… you’re just more perfect in my eyes.”

It’s my turn, kissing his arm and his chest scar while I stroke and taste the salty sweetness of his skin. Stephen’s sighs of pleasure as he pulls me up and around on top of him guide me, and I can feel his cock standing tall and proud in the air as I caress and weep over him. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“And now you have me forever,” Stephen says, pulling me up his body and kissing me harder. “If you give yourself to me.”

“I do… sir. I belong to Stephen Knightsbridge,” I pledge, taking his hand and putting it on my throat. “All of me.”

Stephen’s hand tightens a little before easing up, and he removes it to place it on my breast over my heart. “And I belong to Larissa Moraitis. All of me.”

We roll, kissing and making love on the soft bed, exploring each other’s body until we can’t stand it any more, and I get on my knees, putting my head down and submitting totally to him, no ties or clamps or any toys, just the force of his will, his love, and my desire to be his woman putting me in this position, face down, ass in the air. “Please sir…”

Stephen takes my waist in his hands, holding me firmly as he eases his cock inside me, both of us moaning deeply as he takes me and finally, we can admit, makes me his. As he settles into me, a soft cry of exaltation tremors from my throat, my eyes rolling up at the long missed physical feeling which is made all the sweeter because of the emotions behind it. “Yessss….”

He pulls back, thrusting deep inside me, and I’m swept away as his cock sends shockwaves through my body. I haven’t even touched myself this month of separation and my body’s crying out, stretched and taken and pleasured all at the same time as he fills me over and over, taking my hair in his hand and pulling on it like reins before letting go to take my hands instead, clasping both of our hands together as he speeds up.

“Fuck, fuck... yes, oh fuck you’re the best,” I cry out over and over as Stephen’s hips pound me, his cock sending fire coursing through my veins. My pussy clenches, squeezing him and I pour myself into him, using every internal skill I’ve learned in all my years to pleasure him. It’s pure, I don’t want anything other than to show Stephen how much I love him and how much he makes my heart sing out while he pulls me up slightly, getting into a half squat and pounding me harder, both of us crying out as our bodies hammer each other, his balls smacking my clit with each bed-shaking thrust.

“Sir… Stephen, I love you!” I scream as my body tenses, an orgasm washing through me and Stephen speeds up, his cock rocking my body over and over as I am swept up through my first and almost immediately into my second, my body smashed into the bed as he takes me, my man, my love.

My second orgasm builds, bigger and bigger as my chest clenches and I tremble, Stephen on the edge of exhaustion but his body driving him to superhuman levels of strength and endurance as he holds back another ten seconds, those precious ten seconds enough to push me over the edge and he cries out, his throat roaring in triumph as I come again, my body exploding and melting into the bed, his seed warm and comforting inside me. But nothing’s better than the feeling of him gathering me in his arms, and the soft tickle of his kiss on my neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too sir,” I whisper, clutching his hand to my heart. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. We settle in, and I can feel sleep creeping over me. Stephen must feel it too, because he yawns and chuckles. “What’re they going to think if they come in and find us in bed together?”

I hum happily, pulling the sheets up. “Knowing Lihua, she’ll strip and cuddle up to both of us. As for everyone else… I guess I’ve got a new bodyguard, driver, and eventually second in command of the territory.”

Stephen chuckles again, pulling me tighter. “I can deal with that. Gotta learn the job, right? And you know I’ll guard your body very carefully.”

“Better do more than that,” I tease, yawning again. “You don’t take care of my body, and I might just find my dominant side with you again.”

Stephen pulls me tighter, kissing my neck and cupping my breast. “Yes, Lady L. I love you.”

“I love you too, sir.”

Sleep chases us, and I settle down, safe and secure. Dominant, submissive… it doesn’t matter. I love him, and he loves me. The rest of the labels aren’t all that important.

Stephen

“Welcome to my estate,” Rodrigo says as I get out of the driver’s side of the tiny little Fiat. It’s taken me a few days, but I’ve finally gotten used to Larissa’s ‘Sicilian’ car, even if I feel like I’m going to go tumbling out half the time whenever I open the door. Not the image her ‘bodyguard’ is supposed to have.

“It’s a pleasure to finally be here,” I reply, offering my hand. We shake, and I go around to the back door, holding the door for Larissa in what should, at least for the rest of the night, be my last sign of being her ‘employee’ and not her boyfriend. Getting out, she takes my hand, and I smile, pulling her in for a hug. “And you said he’d be casual.”

“Actually, I was talking to Larissa,” Rodrigo says with a chuckle, taking me down a notch with a little bit of humor. We’ve butted heads a few times over the phone, but we’ve reached a good understanding, and I’m actually looking forward to knowing him better this vacation. “It’s good to see you again, my friends. How is your first trip to Sicily, Stephen?”

“Much appreciated after summer in Kalamata. I like it, a hell of a lot better than Virginia, but I’m glad to have a change of scenery. Six months of learning my new position within Larissa’s organization, I am more than ready for it,” I say. “So… Jessica?”

“Inside with our son,” Rodrigo says, beaming proudly. “This is your first chance to meet Ricardo, isn’t it?”

“Both of our chances,” Larissa says. “Other than seeing him a few times on a video chat.”

“Tell you what, how about you and Jessica go have your female bonding time,” Rodrigo says with a smile. “I’ll show your man around the grounds.”

“Bonding time now, bondage time later?” Larissa says with a smirk, and I give her a wink, making her blush. She rushes towards the back stairs, and I watch her go with a familiar and welcome tingle in my pants before I turn back to Rodrigo.

“She made me promise to ask you if we could borrow your training room,” I mention as we walk across the courtyard back towards the front gate. “Apparently you have a few toys that she’s eager to try out.”

“Probably the electro-stim butt plug,” Rodrigo says with a chuckle. “I used it with Jessica the first time she and I went no-limits, and I think Larissa’s been a bit jealous of her ever since. Apparently she broke her last personal one, and the one I have is a bit different. Of course you guys can use it, since having Ricardo both of us have been less adventurous.”

“Don’t need the information, but I appreciate the invitation. It’s going to be nice for the two of us to have a bit of a vacation. Even if it is a working vacation,” I note as we leave the gated area and Rodrigo leads me off to the left. “Where are we heading?”

“My new olive grove,” he says. “I had planned on doing a lot of it myself when I lived here in Caccamo full time, but now that I have to split my time between here and New York, I decided that I was going to have it either way, so I hired a local group to plant a grove. In about four years or so, they should be ready for the first harvest.”

It’s not far to the small grove, only about a dozen trees that are currently pretty widely spaced but I can see how, once they grow, the saplings will make a nice space. “It’ll be nice. I assume you have people coming by?”

“When I’m not around,” Rodrigo says. “I’ve talked it over with Jessica, and this villa, it’s going to be our retreat from the world. The place where she and I can be honest with each other about who we are, about what I do. Ricardo will of course not know the full details, but that’s okay. He’ll learn when and if the time is right. In the meantime, unless it is something pressing from The Network, this is our haven. Speaking of havens, I might have something that’ll make your own security a little better.”

“Oh?” I ask, and Rodrigo nods. “What’s that?”

“Those copies of the Dover hard drives, let’s just say that I made sure that the right people got to see the edited versions. Frankly, it scared the shit out of them, especially when I let them know that there’s a lot more out there. So, just like how MI6 is keeping Larissa in Deep Cover in order to keep her shut the fuck up, the CIA is doing the same for you. I have the paperwork if you want to see it, but we’d have to burn it right afterwards. Officially, you’re reinstated, listed as Deep Cover, assigned to the same situation I am.”

I think about it, the shrug. “Thanks, but it doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. Rodrigo, a few months ago I found out that my very own sister wasn’t even my sister, that everything I was raised to believe in was so much bullshit. So I decided to choose my own side, and I chose. I have Larissa, she has me, and maybe some day we’ll have children ourselves. The rest of the world can go fuck itself if they don’t like it.”

Rodrigo nods, smiling tightly. “Children, huh?”

I nod once, firmly. “We’ve discussed it, she’s stopped her birth control. We’ll let nature take it’s course after that.”

He laughs, nodding. “No wonder she likes you. Come on then, I’ll show you the rest of the way around, and then… well, the training room has a pretty comfortable bed if you and Larissa want to spend the whole night in there.”

“We might,” I admit before we spend the next half hour going around the small property. It’s nice, five thousand square meters of land according to Rodrigo, and the agricultural areas are pretty sweet. When we reach the house though, I’m stopped momentarily as I see the love of my life on the floor, giggling like a little girl while she plays with the baby boy in the middle of the room. “Well, I see he’s got the touch already.”

“Oh, he’s a charmer all right,” Jessica says as she scoops up her son, who squalls once before realizing who’s holding him and hugging his mother tightly. “And like any Italian, he’s got a strong mama’s boy streak in him.”

After a lovely dinner prepared by Jessica herself at her insistence, we gather around in the living room, relaxing while the electricity builds between Larissa and I. Jessica smiles time after time as Larissa does little things, like sit slightly lower than me, waiting for me to answer a question, so many of the other little things that we don’t even notice any more but just take for granted. Finally, Jessica laughs after Ricardo goes to bed for the night, and we can talk about more adult matters. “So tell me Stephen, did you really have to train Larissa?”

Larissa growls a little and Jessica laughs, leaning against her husband. “Come off it Larissa, you are so submissive to him it’s obvious you love him deeply. I just… I never imagined a man truly being strong enough to be your total dominant. Maybe playfully in the bedroom, but in everything?”

“Not in everything,” I correct Jessica with a smile, stroking Larissa’s hair. “At work, outside our townhouse around Kalamata, she is the capo. About the only person who knows any different is Lihua, who we recently promoted to being a club manager. She walked in on us that first night when we were… sleeping together. She’s a sweetheart though, and she already called us Master and Mistress, so for her it was nothing, just a little more detail in her hierarchy.”

“Still… isn’t it hard? I’m not trying to pry guys, it’s just that… Rodrigo is my Master, in everything I do,” Jessica says. “It’s amazing, and I couldn’t imagine being his boss.”

Larissa gives me a glance, and I nod slightly, smiling before she answers. “Jessica, remember back to when I was teaching you, training you?”

Jessica blushes, nodding. I can see what Rodrigo sees in her, she’s got spunk, but she’s still cute and shy at times too. “Of course, Larissa. And I appreciate every lesson you’ve ever given me. I’m sorry if I insulted you.”

Larissa shakes her head, grinning. “My friend, you haven’t. You’re curious, and pretty damn cute about it too. But what I never talked about, because at first it didn’t apply to your situation but then because we never had to talk about it, is about respect. There is never an instant, whether it’s me being the boss or me being his submissive, that I don’t feel one hundred percent respected, and I don’t one hundred percent respect him. I’d give my life for Stephen, and I know he’ll do the same for me.”

“Actually, that brings me to something,” I interrupt, and everyone’s eyes immediately swing over to me. “I’d been thinking about this for a while, but Jessica, I’m in your debt because you reminded me about something. It’s a unique situation that Larissa and I are in, I admit. She’s my teacher as much as she is… well, everything to me. Rodrigo, I told you earlier that Larissa is my team, and I was kind of hoping...”

I take Larissa’s hand and kneel in front of her, reaching into my pocket. “I was going to do this tonight before we made love, but I can’t wait any more. Larrissa Moraitis, I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

I take the ring out of my pocket, holding it out to her. It was actually hard to keep the ring a secret from her, she’s so well connected in Kalamata, but once again the indispensable Lihua proved herself as important as any ‘slave’ could ever be. Right now that doesn’t matter, and what matters is Larissa’s beautiful violet eyes as she looks at the ring, then at me, blinking away the tears. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious,” I reply. “I know you’ve thought that there’s no happily ever after for women like you… well, I’m saying you’re wrong. Happily ever after is what we make it. And I want to make it with you. So… will you marry me?”

Larissa smiles, taking my ring and kissing it before kneeling down with me. “I am honored… my Master.”

The word floors me, and even Rodrigo makes a surprised sound at Larissa calling me her Master, but it doesn’t matter as I put the ring on and embrace her, kissing her deeply before holding her tight again, whispering in her ear. “You do know that I’m going to make a lot of mistakes.”

“And you know that it doesn’t matter to me. I love you, Master.”

I kiss her again, heat quickly building between us, and when we part I hear Jessica humming in amusement as she turns to Rodrigo. “You know my Master, they’re pretty cute. I think we should give them the chance to go work off what’s obviously going to happen in about three minutes whether it’s here in our living room or in our training room.”

“Good point,” Rodrigo says, standing and taking Jessica’s hand. “And I’m feeling… inspired myself.”

Jessica giggles and nods, getting to her feet before coming over and giving Larissa a peck on the temple. “Thank you, my teacher, for including us in such a big moment in your life. I’ll see you in the morning.”

They leave, and I look at my Larissa with love and see that same love reflected back, love and total devotion to each other. “Shall we, my queen?”

Larissa blushes at our private name for her, taking my hand as I stand up and I lead her out and towards the training room, our hearts beating faster and faster as we approach the door. Outside, I stop, pulling her closer. “I have a question. Why did you say yes? And Master?”

Larissa smiles, putting her head on my chest as I hug her. “Because I love you. And because being with you… well, remember what I taught you, way back when we got started? It’s in my weakness that I find my strength. And you, my Master, have made me very, very strong.”

I pull Larissa closer, kissing her deeply, tasting her sweet essence as I open the door to the training room. “Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to find out how strong you really are.”

Larissa purrs, nodding. “I can’t wait, Master.”

Neither can I.

Continue reading for the Bonus Novel, Rock Me Baby!