Chapter 32

"She's going to run." Andrei said, voice tinny in Landon's ear.

"She doesn't feel safe," Rolf agreed, his voice also coming though Landon's earpiece.

Landon jammed the heels of his hands against his eyes. It was two o'clock. They had several hours before they had to leave to make their way into London.

And every instinct was screaming at him that Colette was about to do something stupid and dangerous. He'd quietly asked Rolf and Andrei to help him keep an eye out for the next little while, and the fact that they both thought she was going to run, and wouldn't shut the fuck up about it, had frustration and fear roiling through him.

She'd been quiet after the phone call, drinking her tea and then disappearing into her room. He'd stayed in his room to work, using the straight-backed chair from her room as a desk, hunching over to type.

When she'd opened the connecting door wearing nothing but sheer lace, he'd snapped the computer closed.

They'd had frantic dirty sex, her pussy, ass, and tits all getting the spanks she begged for. Halfway through she'd asked him to fuck her against the wall. He'd been more than happy to oblige, hiking her up and pinning her in place as he fucked her hard and fast.

Then she'd slid to her knees at his feet, wordlessly asking for more.

He'd put a collar on her.

It had felt so fucking right, and she'd looked so good with the simple black collar. He considered what he wanted for the custom collar he was going to have made for her as he tied her arms above her head with a rope looped over the slats of the canopy while she knelt on the mattress. He spent a good amount of time playing with her breasts, which now bore faint teeth prints and bruise-colored love bites. When he'd fingered her to orgasm, he thought she was done, but she'd once again asked for more.

He took her to a playroom and bent her over a padded table, binding her in place with her legs spread so he could play with her ass. He used larger and larger plugs until she was ready for his cock. Both of them came hard and quickly once he started fucking her rear entrance.

After that, he took her in the shower, thinking that would be aftercare, but her quiet yet frantic need was still there. He used the massage settings on the hand wand to make her come again by aiming the pulsing water directly on her clit.

He'd assumed they were done, but she'd asked for one more round, and wanted something specific.

That was when the dread had settled in her stomach, because while last night the marathon of fucking had been the result of all that pent up sexual chemistry between them, today felt desperate, as if she were trying to fill a silo full to the top.

Unable to find what she wanted in the playroom, they went out onto the club floor. There was one leather armchair that was just the right size. He sat and she straddled him, her knees and lower legs wedged between his thighs and the padded arms.

This time sex had been slow but merciless. He put a brutally large plug in her recently fucked ass, and peppered her body with sharp blows from a mini crop.

And while she rode his cock as he abused her sweet body, their lips stayed close. If they weren't actively kissing, they were sharing each breath.

He'd never kissed someone that much while actively having sex, and it was unexpectedly intimate. At one point both Rolf and Andrei had walked past, but neither he nor Colette cared.

There'd been something different about her during that last interlude. She'd seemed sad both during and after. It wasn't until—after some cuddling aftercare—Colette went to her room to "take a nap" that Landon's dread crystalized into the understanding that she'd just said goodbye.

That's how he'd come to be standing on the small balcony, an earpiece in so he could communicate with Andrei and Rolf, who were positioned in the hall downstairs and outside on the sidewalk respectively.

"Novak's a zealot," Andrei said. "It's smart of her not to trust him. I'd run too."

"I'm not asking her to trust him," Landon snarled softly.

He was going to say more, but the faint sound of the door to the playroom opening filtered in.

He pressed himself against the brick wall, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

A second later the balcony door opened.

Colette ducked out from under the heavy curtain. She wore leggings, a tight tank top, and a leather jacket. A small pack was strapped to her back.

She held a coil of rope in one hand.

Fuck.

She froze when she spotted him, her face an unreadable mask. Landon pushed away from the wall and reached for the rope. She jerked it back.

"Colette, don't do this. Don't run."

"I have to."

"No, you don't. Novak is an idiot, but he's taken care of."

"Maybe, but what if someone changes their mind and agrees with him? Or what if he's angry enough that he deliberately slows down his investigation?" Colette's cheeks were flushed. "How long can we hide here? What if the investigation takes months? Am I going to spend the rest of my life locked up in this club?"

Her questioned hammered at him. She wasn't saying anything he hadn't wondered himself, but she was hurling them like accusations.

"It's only been a few days. It's going to take time."

"And what happens when your boss makes you go back to Manchester?"

"You'll stay here," he said stubbornly. "I come back to London every few weeks for my turn as Dom in residence."

"And I'm supposed to wait for you?"

"Yes, you fucking well are."

"Landon—"

"You fucked me, let me fuck you, knowing you were going to run away."

"Yes."

"That's fucking cruel, Colette."

"You're right, and I'm sorry. It was selfish of me."

"Then get your ass back inside this club."

She shook her head. "I was a fool to think this would work. Someone like Damien isn't going to be arrested in a matter of days, or even weeks."

"Yes, but we will get him."

"Are you willing to bet my life on it?" she asked softly.

Landon stilled, not wanting to answer that, even in the privacy of his mind.

The only way she would ever truly be safe was with Damien dead. Men like him weren't totally stripped of their connections and power when incarcerated.

He'd wait until Damien was arrested and then he'd…do what was needed. He wouldn't tell her that. Admitting his willingness to kill for her had upset her before.

"You don't have to trust Interpol," he said softly. "But I'm asking you to trust me."

Colette glanced at the balcony railing, swaying towards it.

"Please, Colette. Don't run." He had to clench his hands at his sides to stop from grabbing her.

"I do trust you," she said. "But it's not up to you, is it?"

"You trusted me with the truth about the diamond. Trust me to deal with this. To try and speed it up, and figure out a longer-term solution for keeping you safe if you don't want to stay here. I dealt with Novak, didn't I?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"Then stay. Stay with me. Don't run."

Colette closed her eyes, tears first wetting her lashes before sliding down her cheeks.

"Trust me," he said again, raw emotion leaking into his words. "Stay with me."

With a soft hiccupping sound, Colette nodded. He wrapped his arms around her, the rope falling from her hand.

* * *

"This is a nice car," she said, sliding into the Aston Martin Rapide.

"It's Andrei's. Pays a fortune to garage it."

"Does he live in London?"

"No. He's a specialist, so he goes wherever they need him, but because of Club Alibi he spends enough time in London that he decided he needed a car."

"He doesn't sleep at the club though."

"No. He stays at a hotel. Or maybe at this point he bought a flat." Landon navigated the narrow streets of Harringay, headed for the two-lane A10—called the Kingsland Road in Hackney—that would take them into London.

England's Interpol NCB was officially located in Manchester, but maintained offices in London. Those offices were mostly used by agents actively working a case in London, or who needed to liaise with other national crime bureaus.

"Each of you rotates through, spending a week here as the Dom in residence?" Colette asked.

"Yes. For now. That might change, and we're going to need more people. Rolf is working on opening the next location."

"Another one? And it will be a kink club too?"

"Yes."

"Like Torture Garden. Locations all around the world."

He glanced over at her.

She raised a brow. "You're surprised I've been?"

"A bit. It's more fetish than BDSM." She was back in her outfit from this morning, but she'd done up a few more buttons, raising the neckline. Though he'd seen her in corsets and panties, and naked, he was having trouble imagining her in the head-to-toe fetish looks required to gain entrance to Torture Garden. "What did you wear?"

"Half a sheer PVC dress."

"Top or bottom half?"

"Left side." She drew an imaginary line down her body. "The right side was just two or three straps that kept it on."

"How sheer are we talking?" He slowed the car as they passed through Dalston. It was a few years ahead of Harringay as far as gentrification went, though along this main drag, there were plenty of closed shops, their roller gates graffitied.

Honking came from ahead, and traffic stopped. He took advantage of the moment to look over.

"You didn't answer. How sheer?"

Colette's gaze was warm as she touched her left breast with one finger. "You could see my nipple through it."

"And the other breast was bare?" His gaze slipped to her breasts, and he wondered how hard it would be to undo some of those tiny little buttons with one hand.

Or he could order her to undo them.

"No, I had a nipple cover on. For modesty."

Landon snorted in amusement, still contemplating buttons.

"I think you're supposed to turn," Colette said.

He jerked his attention up. A uniformed constable was waving him to the left, where a narrow alley branched off. Landon frowned, looking at the man's uniform. He wasn't wearing the markings of the Roads and Transport Policing Command, but depending on what had happened to stop traffic, this might be a criminal policing matter.

"They're diverting traffic," he said, raising one hand to acknowledge the officer.

"Are we going to be late?"

"No. Don't worry."

Landon turned left, inching the car down the narrow alley. It made a sharp right, and he had to slow to a crawl to make the turn.

"Worried about scraping Andrei's car?" Colette teased.

"Yes. He's unreasonably attached to it." Landon caught her gaze and he leaned over to check that he wasn't about to scrape the passenger side. As he sat back, something was bothering him.

He frowned, slowly turning to look out the back window.

No other cars had followed them down the alley. There had been cars stopped behind him, and assuming they were trying to clear the traffic jam and reroute, the constable should have waved other cars through.

Landon turned to face forward, gripping the wheel.

"What is it?" Colette asked, instantly picking up his mood.

"There's no one behind us."

She twisted to check, and her expression said that she understood his concern.

"Maybe they realized it's too narrow," she said slowly.

"Maybe." Landon gave up on careful, completing the turn and driving too-fast down the narrow, low canyon created by red-bricked buildings. What had looked like a short alley when they first turned in, was in fact a short alley connected to a much longer one that mirrored the King's Road. They hit a couple rubbish cans, but he could see the end of the alley, where it met what looked like a good-sized street.

A massive blue-plastic traffic safety barrel dropped from the sky, landing in front of the car half a second before he plowed into the water-filled canister. He slammed on the brakes, but they were too close. The Aston Martin's hood crumpled and the airbags deployed as they hit heavy plastic and heavier water.

Landon was thrown against the seat belt, and it felt like he'd taken a mallet to the chest. For a moment he couldn't see, the powder from the airbag stinging his eyes as the bag itself filled his vision.

Landon shoved it out of the way and grabbed the wheel, stamping his foot on the accelerator. They needed to get out of here, now.

The car lurched forward once, but stopped, lights on the dash flashing, the brakes automatically locking down in reaction to the crash.

Fuck.

Landon turned to Colette. "Once you're out of the car, run."

"Landon," she whispered, eyes wide as she looked at him.

"It's okay, help's coming." The onboard emergency call system button in the ceiling was illuminated. The airbags had deployed, meaning the car would automatically call 999.

He tried to undo her seatbelt with his left hand, reaching across his body to undo his own at the same time. His came loose, but hers was stuck.

"Call Rolf," Landon said, hoping his phone picked up the sound of his voice. It had been on the center console when they crashed, so it was probably somewhere in the back seat.

Colette screamed, looking out through the water-coated windshield.

Three men wearing motorcycle helmets with black visors were approaching from the front. He twisted, looking back. Two more coming that direction.

Landon grabbed Colette's right hand. "Love, look at me. Reach down and lean your seat back. You can scoot out from under the seat belt that way." He released her, and she obeyed, reaching down beside her seat. Landon started ripping open compartments in the car, looking for a weapon. Surely Andrei kept a knife?—

The passenger door opened with a whine of metal.

Fuck. He hadn't locked the doors. In the event of a crash, newer cars unlocked the doors to make it easier for rescuers to get people out.

Colette yanked frantically on the seatbelt, leaning towards him and away from the open door.

Landon lunged across the center console, trying to put himself between her and the helmeted men.

The car was too fucking small, or he was too big. He was half covering her when his door opened, and hard hands grabbed his legs, yanking him back.

"Landon!"

He twisted as they pulled him out of the car, punching one of them hard enough in the upper arm that he let go, which allowed Landon to kick the other one in the chest. The man staggered, going to one knee.

Landon landed awkwardly on his ass, his back slamming against the edge of the open door. He ignored the pain, shooting to his feet. The first man shook out his arm and came at Landon, knife in hand. Landon didn't give him time to get close enough to use the blade. He kicked the man in the knee. Something crunched and the assailant screamed.

So did Colette.

Landon whipped around, looking across the roof of the car in time to see them haul Colette out the passenger door.

She fought—punching one man in the throat before the man behind her grabbed her arms.

"Drop," he yelled, putting one foot on edge of the car, preparing to go up and over to get to her.

She shot him a glance, then tried dropping down. The idea was that the attacker wouldn't have a good enough grip to hold on against gravity and body weight.

But the man holding Colette was experienced enough to know how to counter. He switched his hold, arm now around her neck.

"Get your fucking hands off her." Landon climbed onto the roof, clambering to his feet. He was going to kick each one of these fuckers in the fucking head and then?—

Lightening arched across his back, seizing every muscle. He crashed to his knees, eyes watering, a familiar clicking sound behind him making it clear he'd just been shot with a taser.

The prongs were still in his back, someone's finger still in the trigger, exhausting the charge as it pumped electricity into his body. Landon only dimly heard Colette trying to scream his name.

One of the three assailants from the front had been standing off to the side, fumbling with something in his pocket. Now he pulled out a capped syringe. Landon watched through watery eyes as the man approached Colette.

She fought, but there were three of them. One held her by the neck and pinned her left arm to her side while the other forced her right sleeve up, holding her arm out straight.

The one with the syringe shoved up his visor. Colette's eyes went wide when she saw his face, and she started to thrash frantically in their hold.

It was no use. The man with the syringe slipped the needle into the vein at the crook of her arm, depressing the plunger.

Colette's terrified face was the last thing he saw.

Someone yanked him off the roof, his body rolling down the windshield, across the bonnet and hitting the ground. There was a pinching sensation on the back of his arm, and then Landon knew no more.