Chapter 14 #2
While Naomi and Lena stayed at the safe house, I walked out, following Samaira and Tara, with Sloane right behind me.
Sloane climbed into the driver’s seat while the three of us climbed into the back of the van, taking a seat on the bench seats.
Samaira and I were on one side, whereas Tara sat across from us.
“Remember, Sami, no playing around. We have only one target. We knock him out and carry him to the van. I’ll knock him out. You carry him. Quick and easy.”
Samaira rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said and looked at me with excitement in her eyes. “The interrogation is more my jam.”
Tara scoffed and turned to me. “You’re in for a treat.”
We drove out of the woods, passing through several small towns I didn't recognize. Sloane navigated the van and parked it behind an abandoned warehouse. By then, the sun had set, and it was nearly dark.
She climbed over the front seats and into the back of the van, then turned on the monitoring screens.
Then she retrieved a drone from a suitcase and launched it out of an open window.
The drone made very little noise as she guided it remotely.
Activating the small screens mounted overhead, she instantly brought up the drone's video feed.
As Sloane worked the drone, Samaira and Tara pulled on their masks.
They looked like superheroes come to life.
My heart pounded erratically in my chest, knowing that I was in the middle of a kidnapping mission.
Samaira knocked on the mask that I still held in my hand, demanding I put it on.
Not wanting to argue—and secretly wanting to match her—I put the mask on.
“Crimson Tiger, Shadow Panther. You’re good to go.”
“Go get ’em, Tiger.” The words slipped out of my mouth, making her pause, her hand clutching the door latch. She turned around, her eyes shining from behind her mask, and she gave me a quick salute.
“Subtle,” Sloane muttered right beside me in a low enough volume so Samaira couldn’t hear.
“Save it,” I muttered back, making her chuckle.
They opened the van's door and jumped down, quietly closing it behind them. My eyes followed Samaira’s retreating form until it disappeared when she climbed over a fence, Shadow Panther right behind her.
Turning quickly to Sloane's monitor, I watched them move through the trees separating the various houses spread throughout the area.
“What did this guy do?” I asked as we watched them. They were as agile as cats as they climbed over fences, jumped on trees, and kept making their way.
“The guy was already beating his wife. He’s started to beat and burn their daughter. The wife asked us to take him out.”
Now, I definitely didn’t feel bad for kidnapping the guy. He deserved it, and I was going to relish every moment of torture that Samaira doled out to him.
I stayed quiet as the women reached what looked to be a small house. Samaira seemed to have hidden in a tree, whereas Tara seemed to be checking the perimeter of the property. My heart was in my throat as I watched the two women in action.
Beside me, Sloane kept a live commentary going, letting them know when their way was clear or if a resident was out and about somewhere.
Tara made some movements and noise outside the house, causing a man to open the door to his backyard.
It didn’t take more than five seconds for her to knock the guy out. He didn’t even stand a fighting chance.
Upon Sloane’s go-ahead, Samaira jumped down from the tree and ran to Tara.
My body automatically moved closer to the screen as my leg kept bouncing.
She easily lifted the guy on her shoulder, her muscles bunching, while Sloane guided them out of the property through a different way.
Once she’d given them instructions, she quickly climbed into the front of the van, and we were on our way.
We made a few turns around the empty streets and parked under a cluster of lush trees.
In the next few minutes, the van door slammed open, and Samaira dropped the unconscious guy at my feet.
The moment my eyes met Samaira’s, and I saw that she was unharmed, I felt like I could finally breathe again.
Once Samaira and Tara climbed in, we were on the move.
“You good?” I asked Samaira, who sat right beside me, the heat exuding from her body bringing me the kind of comfort I wouldn’t feel in the middle of a kidnapping.
Her masked face turned to mine. “Of course. That went perfectly. You ready for the next part?”
“Absolutely.”
Except my jaw was at my feet as I watched Samaira lift the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man and slam him on the floor, his groans echoing in the basement of their safe house.
I stood outside the torture room— basically, a large cage — in the basement, watching Samaira “interrogate” the sobbing man.
With every punch, she broke the guy’s teeth.
Every kick made him scream. My body thrummed with adrenaline and need as I watched her muscles bunch and contract as she viciously punished the man.
My stomach clenched as she pulled out every single fingernail from his hands without hesitation. The sheer beauty in her violence riveted me as she relentlessly tortured the guy until he started to confess.
“Yes, I beat my wife. I promise I won’t do it again.”
“No, I don’t have a job.”
“HELP!! Someone, help me!”
“She needed to learn her place.”
“Who are you?”
“Yes, I did threaten to burn my daughter with cigarettes. ”
Blood sprayed over her mask as she punched him in the face.
Something inside me turned feral at her ruthlessness.
Her gloved hands dripped with blood from where she held the man’s bleeding jaw, shaking him to get him to confess every sordid, horrifying act in detail.
My blood boiled with every sick act he revealed, vindication thrumming through my veins at the punishing blows that Samaira dealt the man.
She was a monster come to life, making the man bleed and suffer for his atrocities.
But she felt very much like my monster. I desperately wanted to feel those unforgiving, powerful hands around my cock.
She was the goddess of death, delivering her justice to the worst of humanity. I wanted to pray at her altar, fall on my knees, worship her till all her rage, all her violence seeped out of her. My cock throbbed in my pants as she slammed her knee on his back, making him howl in pain.
My eyes were glued to her when I felt a presence beside me.
“You might want to look away for what comes next. She’s at the end of her torture,” Tara said, standing beside me.
“I need to watch the kind of justice the tigress will dole out for my sister.”
I didn’t move my eyes away from Samaira even for a second—not even to blink—as she removed her mask and spat on him. I realized I was smiling as arousal was roaring and thrashing through my body like a wild beast trapped in a cage.
“She only removes her mask if she’s going to kill the man,” Tara said.
My hand tightened into a fist, my heart hammering with adrenaline, my mind throwing questions at me I had no answers to. How many people had she killed? Did she get affected by these kills? Did she relish them, or was it a chore?
Samaira pulled out her knife, grabbed the tiny dick of the squealing man lying in his own piss and blood, and chopped it right off in one single slice.
Goose bumps broke out along my spine as she climbed over him, stuffed the dick in his mouth, and sliced his neck in another swift move as the man gurgled to death.
She got up and turned around. Her face stretched into a feral, victorious smile—a smile so bloody, so fucking beautiful—I couldn’t help but smile myself. I’d never seen her smile so wide before. Not even when we were sparring or when I’d gotten her that pizza.
She walked out of the cage to come face-to-face with Tara and me.
With her gaze locked on mine, she said, “Tara, he’s all yours. Get rid of the body. Sorry I didn’t save him for you.”
Tara chuckled. “I knew you wouldn’t, especially today.”
With that, Tara stepped inside the cage, leaving just the two of us. Samaira stood there, dripping blood, sweat plastering her unruly hair to her face, that wide, manic smile still in place. She took a step closer, and my cock wept in my pants, aching to get closer still. “You watched it all, huh?”
I took a step toward her, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air around us. “Didn’t even blink.”
She chuckled, closing the remaining distance. “Didn’t scare you, did I?”
I mirrored her movement until our chests brushed, the heat radiating from her enveloping me, her brown eyes dilated, almost black with adrenaline and the residual violence. “I’d marry you right now.”
A loud laugh burst from her chest, and I was utterly lost. She was a total paradox with her blood-soaked clothes.
Sweat and blood dripped down her cheeks, yet a delighted smile lit up her face, her eyes twinkling with the purest of innocence.
I wanted to drown in her, push her against the wall and feel her wrap around me, wanted her to sit on my face and squeeze my throat with her thighs.
There was no question about it. I was maddeningly obsessed and violently attracted to every ruthless inch of Crimson Tiger.
“I’ll wash up, and we’ll get out of here.”
I simply nodded at her as she walked past me, her finger softly grazing against mine, leaving a hint of blood and electricity in its wake.
I walked back into the room upstairs where Lena and Sloane were sitting, having a drink.
“You alright, Dominic?” Lena asked, a kind—almost motherly—smile on her face.
“Was it your first time watching a man get killed?” Sloane asked, getting Lena to scowl at her.
I turned to both and answered, “Yes,” and “Yes,” to each of them. “It was my first time but not the last time watching a man get killed. Men like that fucker need to be put down.”
“That they do,” Lena said, sipping her drink.
“By the way, what would happen to the woman and the daughter he left behind? Would they be okay? Do they need any funds?”
Lena gave me a small smile. “That’s kind of you. But they’re both taken care of. They’ve been moved out of the house just tonight and into an apartment in Brooklyn. And we’ve received ten million dollars for your initial payment. Believe me, that’s going to go a long way.”
“Trust me. It’s not nearly enough for finding the culprits of my sister.”
Right then, Samaira walked in from behind me in a loose pair of sweatpants and a white tank top, her hair wet from the shower.
She stood right beside me, the smell of fresh oranges in a summer garden flooding my senses.
I wanted to press my lips to the side of her neck and bask in her delicious scent.
Her arm grazed mine, and heat flooded down my body.
Her lips were stretched in a wide smile, her eyes still holding that adrenaline-fueled excitement. “We would’ve done it for free.”
I shook my head. “The only way I can help your organization is by providing funds. Be it for my sister or anyone else. Consider me your bank for life.”
Sloane had just opened her mouth to say something, but Samaira beat her to it. “Let’s go, Dominic. Before Sloane starts robbing you.” She looked at the ladies next. “You all good? Need me for anything?”
“We’ve got it. You rest up now,” Lena said, waving us off.
We were quiet as we got into her sedan, and she started driving us back to the main road.
The air in the car was charged with something potent, something on the edge of volatile that made me want to brace for impact.
Samaira’s hands squeezed the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles had gone white.
My own skin was stretched too tight. The adrenaline from the mission, the high from watching Samaira kill a man, the vision of her bathed in blood and sweat, the power still pouring out in waves from every pore of her body, had my cock pounding in my pants.
I wanted to devour her, wanted to make her submit in the bedroom. My jaw ached with the need to take a bite at her throat and feel all her strength underneath me, around me, molding into me.
I turned in the seat so I sat facing her, my throat dry, and my heart racing in a gallop.
“You’re staring,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.
“Tell me to stop.” I didn’t think I could even if she did. But something told me she enjoyed having my eyes fixated on her, relished in being admired, and being the center of my obsession.
A wicked smile crossed her lips, her face shaking back and forth. “That fucking mouth of yours. You have no idea what you’re dealing with right now.”
Her tongue swiped across her lower lip as she kept her eyes on the road. Her chest rose and fell with how heavy she was breathing .
“How do you feel after killing a man?”
Her eyes met mine for a brief second, and I found dark pools of hunger and bloodlust and adrenaline coursing through them.
She wanted to devour and feast . My own body responded in kind; the need to consume her coursed through my veins and hammered from deep inside my skin, begging to be let out, yearning for a taste.
She cleared her throat, as if it were too difficult to form words right now. “I feel like the judge, jury, and the executioner. To take a person’s life, especially the life of a creature so vile and monstrous, I feel like a god. I feel like I’m flying on the highest of the highs.”
My voice was scratchy when I asked, “And what do you do to get down from this high?”
Her lips turned into a smile. She bit her lip, and I wanted to suck that little dent her teeth made on her lip. My cock was weeping, precum sliding down my erection, making me dizzy with the way I ached for her.
She shook her head, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s need-to-know information.” Her gaze turned to me, and her eyes were talking to me in a very different language than her words. “And you don’t need to know the information, Mr. Dominic Park, my client.”
“What if I were Dominic, your friend?”
A chuckle escaped her lips, the sound a welcome reprieve from the electric intensity thrumming between us. “Are you? My friend, Dominic?”
My mind screamed a big, fat no. If only she could read my thoughts or feel my cock right now. I turned to her and, with a voice like gravel, said, “Definitely not, Samaira. I’m not your friend. Not even a little bit.”
By the blush coating her cheeks and the smile playing on her lips, I’d bet my entire empire on the fact that she really liked not being my friend.