Chapter 12
The next morning, as the elevator doors shut to take me up to my office, I leaned on the back wall.
I was exhausted, and with thoughts of what had occurred with Elin rolling around in my head, I couldn’t sleep.
After following up on some informants in Westwood’s camp, I’d headed home, only to toss and turn, tangling myself in the sheets.
All night, I’d kept reliving everything that had happened in her office.
She had owned me. Completely taken control.
Threatened to put me in a fucking ball cage.
Fucking bitch.
The problem: I’d loved it.
I had to admit that much. My entire body had been hers to command.
I couldn’t fight it. She’d . . . I thumped my hand on the wall just as the doors opened.
Stomping through the hall, I paused at her office door, which was wide open.
Sticking my head in, I was partially relieved it was void of her, but my cock twitched and hardened as my eyes trailed over the area where she’d had me on my knees before her.
As I closed my eyes to steady myself, I could feel her touch on me.
Feel her nails digging into my tender skin. The ghost of her finger fucking my ass.
Fuck. I’m so screwed.
Forcing myself to walk away, I made my way to my office. After I entered the code, the electronic mechanism beeped and the lock slid away. Pushing the door open, I tried to shake the thought of my face smashed into her pussy.
Gods, she was perfection.
Stopping by the kitchenette just to the right of the bathroom, I made a quick cup of coffee, letting the memory of her owning me take over.
No one, and I meant no one, had ever taken me over like that.
Anyone who had tried had learned quickly why I was called the Owl’s Talon.
Once my coffee was done, I added two yellow packets of sweetener and headed for my desk.
I flopped into my chair, only to freeze when I saw a small black box, tied shut with a black ribbon, and a black, square card sitting on top of my laptop.
My attention flicked between the box and the door.
No one should have been able to get in here.
Reaching out carefully, I picked up the note, making sure there were no wires or anything to set off any mechanism to blow me to hell.
Though, there was a chance I was already there with Elin in my head. What did she do to me?
Opening it, I stared at the elegant print. My fingers traced over the letters before my brain registered them.
Gavriel,
Since you want to act like a medieval prick, you can put it in chain mail. Take a picture once you are locked up, send it to me, and then put the key on my desk.
~E
She wouldn’t have fucking dared.
I reached out and untied the bow. Lifting the lid, I stared at the cage in the center, nestled in black satin. The ring was solid silver, while the actual cage was indeed chain mail. I ran my finger over it, feeling how freely it moved in comparison to the plastic ones I had seen.
“You snarky, little bitch.”
I rolled my neck as I stood and started pacing. My cock grew hard at the thought of following her directions.
It was just one fuck. It didn’t mean anything. One hate fuck at that.
Liar.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm down, but even my nipples were tingling and hard at the thought of her approval.
When in the hell did I get a fucking praise kink?
Putting my hands on my hips, I tipped my head back and groaned. Who was I kidding? She unlocked something in me that I needed to see through. Why?
Maybe because it was the best sex I’d had in months.
Grabbing the box, I locked my office door and pulled my pants down, slipping my cock, which was already semi-hard, through the ring and into the metal basket.
It took some readjusting to get it comfortable, but after locking it, I took a photo as instructed, sending it to her without anything else.
After I had my pants back up and had put the empty box in a drawer, I unlocked the door. Just as I took a seat, Harley came in.
“You look like shit.”
Glaring at him, I asked, “What do you want?”
“Another shipment was compromised.” Harley just stared at me.
“Same people?”
He shrugged. “We know it’s FBI, but that’s it. No clue how they are getting the information.”
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to throw something across the room. “So, what? We’re just supposed to sit here and let them take everything?”
“No, no. We find out who’s leaking,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes sharp. “You know we’ve got eyes everywhere. But someone’s getting too close.”
I let out a long breath, trying to keep my cool. “If it's the FBI, they’ve got someone on the inside.”
He leaned forward, his fingers tapping on the table. “Inside or outside. Doesn’t matter. The leak’s gotta be plugged.”
I nodded slowly. Losing one shipment was a setback; losing two was a threat. "Find out who. Get rid of them. Quietly."
“You don’t need to tell me that,” he muttered, though the hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
I shot him a look that would have withered lesser men. "If the FBI's tightening the noose, then we’ll make sure they feel the pressure."
Silence hung between us, thick with the tension of knowing just how far we might have to go. He was the kind of guy who would do whatever it took—no matter how brutal, how messy. The man was almost as bloodthirsty as I was.
“I’ll get it done,” he said, standing up and turning toward the door.
“And Harley, if you find out who’s behind this, don’t just deal with them. Make an example.”
He turned back, his eyes narrowing in understanding. “You want to send a message.”
I nodded slowly. “Make sure they know this isn’t just a mistake. If the FBI thinks they can take us down, they’re wrong.”
With that, he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.
I took a moment to breathe, the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders.
This wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
And by the time we were done, the FBI would learn what happened when they made the mistake of crossing the Azzaro family.