Her response to my insinuation would be comical if I weren't absolutely serious, but her sweet words and just being who she is to me draw me in.

"Yes, out here," I confirm.

Stepping back out of my reach, I watch as she raises her hands to her jacket and drops it to the ground behind her. Her fingers work the b.u.t.tons on her s.h.i.+rt as she quickly undresses in front of me.

My arms brace across my chest, and I'm left watching and waiting.

With her hands at the top of her jeans, and her body having to be chilled by the air, she stops mid-motion when she catches my stance.

"Oh, G.o.d. You weren't serious," she accuses with embarra.s.sment.

Smiling, even though she probably can't see it from where she's standing, I let out a small laugh and drop my jacket as she had. My arms move to the back of my s.h.i.+rt and I lift it over my head while telling her, "I am. But I didn't expect you to be so eager."

"I was living in the moment," she replies, still unmoving.

Hearing her admit to what she's doing, using this time together as a distraction much the same as I've done with her, I'm taken aback. But only for a moment. My body reacts even as my mind contemplates if this is a really a good idea or not.

"Lose the rest of your clothes and walk back to the bike."

Without arguing, Em removes her jeans and walks to where I've told her, still wearing what she had on underneath. Her hands brace on the seat and I get a dim view of her a.s.s.

As I make my way to her, I tell her, "Lose the lace."

Doing as I've said, she removes her thong and kicks it to the side. She rises on her bare tiptoes and looks over her shoulder in search of me. She doesn't have but a second to find her focus before my hands dig into her hips. I thrust quickly between her legs, finding her ready.

My voice is raspy as I use my chin to move the hair from her shoulder to her back. My jaw feels the warmth of her shoulder then my chest as I settle it against her back.

"Bend over a little more."

As she does, her a.s.s. .h.i.ts my c.o.c.k, causing it to jump in place. Releasing my hold on her, I use one hand to position myself at her entrance and the other to brace my balance on the bike. When I slide into her, she releases a feral moan in acceptance. I've taken Em a lot of ways, but being out here in the wild, where we once met before all this started, is liberating to us both.

Starting slow to ensure she's fully ready, I push myself into her slowly and her back arches at the invasion.

"Touch me, baby," I barely grind out through clenched teeth as I try to control my aggression.

One hand remains on the seat of the bike as her other positions between her legs. Her fingers run the expanse of my c.o.c.k as I start to move in and out of her.

"More," I whisper, picking up speed and feeling every touch she's offering. "Come when you're ready."

I feel her body move as she nods and her breath quickens. "I love you, Max," she breathes. "I don't know..."

The catch in her breath stops me from going further. I know Em enough to realize she's about to cry. Grabbing around her shoulders, I pull her up and against my chest.

My hand moves her hair away and I kiss her neck with care. "Hey, don't do that."

Her fingers wipe away the tears I can't see. "Nothing's wrong. I'm being ridiculous."

"You're not," I reply.

Her a.s.s lifts again so I take it as a signal to continue, but this time my movements are gentle. I move slower. Each thrust, although deliberate, is meant for something.

"I love you, too," I tell her, holding her close to me and kissing her neck and shoulders. "Let me feel you."

She moves her hand to mine at her hip and wraps it around her waist. She takes me with her as she bends so my body blankets hers. The intimate position causes everything around us to fall away. I feel her insides clench, signaling she feels everything I do.

The want.

The need.

The pa.s.sion.

The love.

My fingers dig into her hip as I push into her and hold firm. She begins to struggle in my grasp, reaching for her release. When she finds what she needs, I hear her gasp heavily before a moan of satisfaction comes out and she looks behind her, right at me. I keep my eyes on hers for as long as I can before emptying myself into her completely.

Although the stranger's presence at O'Malley's was brief, my past keeps me reminded to not trust anyone I don't truly know. It's been my experience that if someone doesn't seem to fit in with their surroundings, they probably have an agenda.

"Are you okay?" Em asks as I stop at the first brightly lit gas station in an open area we pa.s.sed on the way into town.

I won't endanger Em by testing the black Escalade's intentions. If he's about to approach, he'll be doing it with witnesses watching, including law enforcement.

"I'm fine. Need to run inside."

"I can wait here," she insists, having no clue of my concern.

"No," I answer, releasing the helmet strap around her chin. "You're goin' in with me."

"Max," she contests.

I don't give her a chance to argue and the follower pulls in and parks beside us. She hasn't noticed at all, so I wait a second before he moves to get out. When he doesn't, I turn back around to catch a glimpse of Em. It's then he starts to move.

"What's...?" Em starts, but doesn't finish when the same man from the bar earlier steps down from his ride and walks in our direction.

On instinct, I step in front of Em as she sits on the bike, s.h.i.+elding her from the man walking toward us.

"Can I help you?" I ask, feeling Em's hands dig into my jacket at both sides.

"Good evening," he says with an accent I can't place.

He positions himself in front of us and I watch his hands carefully as they slide into his suit trousers. Then he scans the area around us. Em clears her throat and when she does, his focus moves beyond my shoulder to her.

"Well, h.e.l.lo there," he oozes.

I feel Em tense, so I step closer to him. If I were in his s.p.a.ce any more, the dust I'm wearing from the desert floors would cling to what I deem to be an expensive suit.

"Again, can I help you?"

"Just admiring the view," he says casually, still looking directly at Em.

"Max," I hear Em whisper with nervousness.

"You can go," I tell him. "Nothing to see here."

He smiles, though it doesn't sit right. A few seconds of challenge pa.s.s before he takes a step back and gets closer to his ride.

I start to think it's over, maybe even a matter of coincidence, until he speaks. He talks directly to Em when he does. "Did you enjoy the drink?" he asks. "If you're interested, I'll be around for dinner and maybe breakfast if you'd be so inclined."

Without thinking, I move to step closer to get in his face. Em grabs my jacket before I can get too far ahead of her.

"Max, please, no," she whispers, and I stop at her words. Em hates violence. I know this, but still, he's p.i.s.sing me off.

"Your woman says no," he tsks. "Bet she wouldn't say no if she had me inside her."

The final thread of my patience has been pulled.

Lurching forward in his direction, he pulls his fist from his pants pocket and I feel the punch to my eye echoing throughout my head as the skin tears and blood hits the ground. It was a cheap shot, but it slows me down.

I yank myself out of Em's hold and lunge my shoulder into his chest, causing him to fall back into his SUV. Straightening quickly, I pull my hand back and deliver the same hit he had to me. I feel the flesh of his face give way to my knuckles.

Reacting quickly, I start to move back to guard Em. It's then he checks his nose for blood, smiles cruelly as he opens his ride and steps inside.

"Max!" Emma yells, calling for my attention. I turn to her as he backs his truck up, but his eyes never leave hers.

"f.u.c.k," I hiss once he puts the truck in drive and rides away.

Chapter Nine.

I've learned the truth isn't what a person always wants to hear.

Casey sits quietly in a comfortable corner chair far in the back of the room as Anna and Viktor review a manila file he's holding out in front of them. The office she's found herself in is spotless. She's never been in here before. It's a complete contrast to her dingy room. If she didn't know better, she'd be certain these two places couldn't possibly exist within the same building.

Artificial plants, cherry wood tables, and plush office furniture take up the s.p.a.ce around her. A heavy-looking matching cherry wood desk stares back from her seat. It's adorned with only a computer and a few pens scattered carelessly around its frame.

Cilas stands stoically at her side. His hands are held together in front of him as he remains in position, guarding the office door. When she looks up to study his focus, she finds it to be on Anna. Even in the midst of her concentrated effort to remain quiet, the warm feeling rushes over her as she wonders again what Cilas sees as he watches her.

Viktor lifts his head in her direction and smiles before setting the file down. As he walks around Anna, Casey notes a look of concern, or fear-she can't place which-radiating from her.

Once making it to Casey, Viktor bends and places his hands on her knees. As always, he's dressed impeccably. His grey hair is combed to perfection and she smells the now-familiar scent of his soap.

He places one hand on her warm cheek and he sighs. "Anna's outdone herself with you tonight, sweetheart. You look beautiful." His strong Russian accent teases her ears, reminding her of all Anna had told her about his home. His fingers gently brush her neck, the same place she remembers Hangar's hands being wrapped around her throat. When his finger stops in the exact place, Casey freezes.

You're going to call me 'Daddy' and beg me to punish you.

She faintly remembers those words from the night Hangar touched her in the hallway near her private room.

That creamy, white skin of yours-I can't wait to taste it.

Rather than letting the visions of memory a.s.sault her, Casey chooses to focus on Viktor's praises of her beauty, all while looking him directly in the eye as she's been told to do. "Thank you, sir."

Her nerves get the better of her, though, and her mind starts to race with worry. Feeling Casey's body shake in reaction to them, Viktor grabs her hands in his and gently squeezes each in sync. His hands are warm, a sad comparison to hers, which are cold and clammy from her constant uneasiness.

"We have a guest coming, as I'm sure Anna has told you." The smooth tone of Viktor's words act as another much needed distraction.

Casey nods, still uncertain who it could be.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asks, looking down to the white anklet still fitting snuggly around her ankle.

"No, sir."

"I'm going to find you a home."

Casey's not sure how that's possible or why he's choosing to tell her, so she looks up at him with a puzzled expression. She doesn't ask the question that begs an answer because she's unsure she's allowed to inquire.

"I need you to tell me something, if you would," he says kindly, but she sees past his calm demeanor into the anger of his eyes. They tell her more than any of his words possibly could.

"Yes, sir."

"Has anyone hurt you, my dear?"

"Hurt me?" she asks out loud, without meaning to.

"Yes," he answers. "Let me rephrase." His accent troubles her understanding even though he slows his words. "Anna told me there was a man, Hangar, who may or may not have touched you. Tell me, sweetheart, in your words. I want to know, did he hurt you?"

Casey ponders the truth, yet again recollecting Hangar's vile words and the memory of his hand wrapped securely around her throat. In comparison to her life before Viktor had her moved into that room, he hadn't hurt her.

Her recollections before then are a blur. Men pushed and pulled at her, but it wasn't to hurt her, per se. She was ignored, neglected, and oftentimes forgotten, yes. However, intentional or malicious harm never happened.

"No, sir."

"Are you lying to me, princess?"

His constant stream of endearments causes her more worry. Her body tenses, remembering Hangar's voice as he called her princess. Only she knows Hangar meant them as terms of terror; they were said to be vicious and unnerving.

Deciding to offer the truth and risking the punishment she could receive for doing so, with shaky determination she tells him what she remembers most. "I couldn't breathe."

Viktor's jaw clenches and his eyes narrow. He sends a quick look back at Anna as she uses her hand to cover her mouth. She's about to break into a sob; Casey recognizes her sadness.

Looking back at Casey, he seeks clarification. "What do you mean you couldn't breathe? Explain." Viktor's tone is no longer nice, but now upset.

"Everything started to get blurry, sir. His hand..." Casey releases Viktor's hold of her hands and positions her own where Hangar's had been the week before.