Chapter Eight
In which there are orgasms and kidnappings. Such a buzzkill...
Ethan…
Fuck mo bheatha tha i foirfe, feck my life, she’s perfect.
The low light plays over the smooth curves of her, those heaving breasts with delightfully stiff nipples and her pink mouth, open and gasping for air. I’d only intended to keep her occupied until my driver pulled around to the back of the club, but… she’s so beautiful. And so responsive. I kiss her, making her taste herself, how sweet she is when she comes.
Getting a cloth from the connected bathroom, I wipe between her thighs, enjoying her little gasp before straightening her dress and tucking her breasts back in. Pulling the ropes loose, I bring her arms back down, resting her hands on her stomach.
A soft chime on my phone tells me my driver’s waiting for us by the back entrance. “I’m picking you up, Ivy. Keep your blindfold on.”
Sitting up abruptly, her hands fly up to the blindfold and I hold them still. “Where are you taking me?”
“Another room, don’t be concerned, I have your list of limits here. We won’t do anything you’ve said no to.”
“Oh… okay.” She lets me scoop her up and even puts her arms around my neck.
“Such a good girl,” I whisper into her ear, enjoying the little spray of goosebumps that rise on her skin. Those orgasms should have worn her out, so she’ll be softer and more pliable for the next few minutes.
Dario put us in this bedroom because it was the closest to the back entrance, meaning less chance of anyone seeing me take her out of here.
He’d stopped me before I went to pay for Sloan/Lily. “I know your family is an honorable one,” he said, his eyes cold, “but this girl is still our employee and thus under our protection. I need your word that you’ll keep her safe and you won’t return her to her father. If that slimy piece of shit wants her dead, then he cannot get his hands on her.”
“I don’t kill women,” I’d said, “and no matter why he wants her back, I’ll protect her. You have my word.”
“Thank you.”
He put out his hand and I shook it. “I’m in your debt.”
Dario grins. “Yes, you are, MacTavish.”
After wrapping her in a cashmere blanket, I carry her swiftly down the hall. I don’t see anyone other than a cleaner, who shoots me a wink as we pass by.
Sloan/Lily stiffens when she hears the metal door scrape open. “Wait- what’s- you can’t take me out of the club!”
Before she finishes her sentence, I have her in the back of the SUV, gripping her tightly as I slam the door shut.
“Go!” I snap at the driver, who obligingly slams his foot on the gas.
“You bastard!” She’s thrashing in my arms and manages to peel the blindfold off, her wide, furious eyes taking in the leather backseat and the privacy screen already raised. “Pull over!” she shouts, pounding on the glass, “I’m being kidnapped!”
Writhing loose, she pins herself against the door. “I knew it! I knew this thing would be a nightmare; I just didn’t think I’d get sold to a human trafficker!”
“Well, now you’re just insulting me, lass. I’m no trafficker.” I canna really fault her for thinking so.
She’s ignoring me, pounding on her window. “Help! I’m being kidnapped! For fuck’s sake-”
“Time to calm down,” I say coldly, wrapping my arms around her and putting her back on my lap. “You’re not being kidnapped and I would never hurt ya. Ya must stop screaming now, you’re giving me a headache.”
Drawing back like a snake ready to strike, she snarls, “Did my stepfather send you?”
“Aye, though his instructions-”
She headbutts me.
Blood shoots from my nose as she dives across the seat, frantically struggling with the door handle. “Dinna bother, it’s locked.” Seizing her ankle, I pull her back, moving to the side when she tries to kick me with her free foot.
“Help! He’s going to kill me! Heeeelp!”
She’s screaming and she’s got some impressive lung power behind it. Even wrapping my arms and legs around her isn’t enough to slow down her thrashing; it disturbs me how genuinely terrified she is about going back to her father - wait, did she say stepfather? Her elbow nails me in the cheekbone, and a starburst explodes in my vision.
Growling, I yank a slim leather case from a side compartment and pull out a pre-filled syringe, plunging the needle into her shoulder. She gives one last violent, piercing scream before slumping in my arms.
Looking at my reflection in the privacy screen, I irritably straighten my nose with a crunch. It’s not the first time my nose has been broken and it’s likely not the last, but it’s the first time from a slip of a girl. Michael and my cousins would never stop giving me shite for this.
It’s less than fifteen minutes to the private airfield I’m using, a small landing strip behind a massive series of vineyards. They use it for wine tours for the stupidly wealthy who fly in to get plastered under the pretense of being a wine connoisseur. The driver opens my door, expressionless as I get out, carrying the unconscious girl.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“We’re done here,” I say, heading up the jet stairs, “take the night off.”
“Very good, sir,” my driver intones, acting for all the world like a proper English butler when I know he’s from Detroit. He’s a handy lad to have around for odd jobs. He knows how to take the money and keep his mouth shut, two admirable qualities in our world.
Strapping Sloan into a comfortable leather recliner and handcuffing her to the arm, I move through the pre-flight steps quickly. I’ve given her enough sedative to keep her sleeping like an angel - a screaming, headbutting angel - until we touch down in Glasgow, but I’m taking no chances.
The lass is a menace, and damned if I dinna enjoy it, even if she did break my nose.