Keep Me Page 13

  The stark, irrational fear of losing her.

  There are two-hundred-plus highly trained men guarding the compound and dozens of military-grade drones sweeping the area. Nobody can touch her here, but that doesn’t change the way I feel, doesn’t quell the primitive panic gnawing at my insides. All I want to do is grab Nora and carry her as far away as possible, to a place where no one will ever find her . . . where she will be mine and mine alone.

  But there is no place like that anymore. My enemies know about her, and they know that she’s important to me. I’ve proven that by coming after her before. If they still want the explosive—and I am certain that they do—they will try to get her, again and again, until they are completely wiped out.

  Overkill or not, given this new information, I need to take additional precautions to ensure Nora’s safety.

  I need to make sure I always have a connection to her.

  “What are you thinking?” Nora asks, a concerned expression on her face, and I realize that I’ve been staring at her for a couple of minutes without saying anything.

  I force myself to smile. “Nothing much, my pet. I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be safe?” She looks more puzzled than worried.

  “Because there is a rumor Majid may be planning something in Latin America,” I explain as calmly as I can. I don’t want to frighten her, but I do want her to understand why I have to take these precautions.

  Why I have to do what I’m about to do to her.

  “You think they’re coming here?” Her face pales a bit, but her voice remains steady. “You think they’re going to try to attack the estate?”

  “They might. It doesn’t mean they will succeed, but they will most likely try.” Reaching across the table, I close my fingers around her delicate hand, wanting to reassure her with my touch. Her skin is chilled, betraying her agitation, and I massage her palm lightly to warm it up. “That’s why I want to make sure that I can always find you, baby—that I can always know where you are.”

  She frowns, and I feel her hand growing even colder before she pulls it out of my grasp. “What do you mean?” Her voice is even, but I can see the pulse at the base of her throat beginning to quicken. As I had anticipated, she’s not overjoyed with the idea.

  “I want to put some trackers on you,” I explain, holding her gaze. “They will be embedded in a couple of places on your body, so if you’re ever stolen from me, I would be able to locate you right away.”

  “Trackers? You mean . . . like GPS chips or something? Like something you would use to tag cattle?”

  My lips tighten. She’s going to be difficult about this, I can already tell. “No, not like that,” I say evenly. “These trackers are currently classified and intended specifically for human use. They will have GPS chips, yes, but they will also have sensors that measure your heart rate and body temperature. This way I will always know if you’re alive.”

  “And you will always know where I am,” she says quietly, her eyes dark in her pale face.

  “Yes. I will always know where you are.” The thought fills me with immense relief and satisfaction. I should’ve done this weeks ago, as soon as I retrieved her from Illinois. “It’s for your own safety, Nora,” I add, wanting to emphasize that point. “If you had these trackers when you and Beth were taken, I would’ve found you right away.”

  And Beth would still be alive. I don’t say that last part, but I don’t need to. At my words, Nora flinches, like I just struck her a blow, and pain flashes across her face.

  She recovers her composure a second later, however. “So let me get this straight . . .” She leans forward, placing her forearms on the table, and I see that her fingers are tightly laced together, her knuckles white with tension. “You want to implant some chips inside my body that will tell you where I am all the time—just so I’ll be safe on a remote compound that has more security than the White House?”

  Her tone is heavy with sarcasm, and I feel my temper rising in response. I indulge her in many things, but I will not take risks with her safety. It would’ve been easier if she’d chosen to cooperate, but I’m not about to let her reluctance deter me from doing the right thing.

  “Why, yes, my pet, that’s right,” I say silkily, getting up from my chair. “That’s exactly what I want. You’re getting these trackers today. Now, in fact.”

  Chapter 15

  Nora

  Stunned, I stare at Julian, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. A part of me can’t believe he’s going to do this to me against my will—tag me like some dumb animal, depriving me of any semblance of privacy and freedom—while the rest of me is screaming that I’m an idiot, that I should’ve known that a tiger doesn’t change his stripes.

  It’s just that the last few weeks had been so different from anything we’ve had together before. I’d begun to imagine that Julian was opening up to me, that he was truly letting me into his life. Despite his dominance in the bedroom and the control he exerts over all aspects of my life, I’d started to feel less like his sex toy and more like his partner. I let myself believe that we were becoming something like a normal couple, that he was beginning to genuinely care for me . . . to respect me.

  Like a fool, I bought into the delusion of a happy life with my kidnapper—with a man utterly lacking in conscience or morals.

  How stupid, how gullible of me. I want to kick myself and cry at the same time. I’ve always known what kind of man Julian is, but I still let myself get taken in by his charm, by the way he seemed to want me, need me.

  I allowed myself to think I could be something more than a possession to him.

  Realizing that I’m still sitting there, reeling from the painful disillusionment, I push back my chair and get up to face Julian from across the table. The kicked-in-the-stomach sensation is still there, but now so is anger. Pure and intense, it’s spreading through my body, sweeping out the remnants of shock and hurt.

  These trackers have nothing to do with my safety. I know the extent of the security measures on the estate, and I know that the chances of anyone being able to take me again are beyond minuscule. No, the renewed terrorist threat is just a pretext, a convenient excuse for Julian to do what he’s probably been planning to do all along. It gives him a reason to increase his control over me, to bind me to him so tightly that I will never so much as take a breath without his knowledge.

  The trackers will make me his prisoner for the rest of my life . . . and as much as I love Julian, that is not a fate I’m willing to accept.

  “No,” I say, and I’m surprised at how calm and steady my voice sounds. “I’m not getting these implants.”

  Julian raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” His eyes glint with anger and a faint hint of amusement. “And how would you prevent it, my pet?”

  I lift my chin, my heartbeat accelerating further. Despite all the hours of training in the gym, I’m still no match for Julian in a fight. He can subdue me in thirty seconds flat—not to mention he has all these guards under his command. If he’s set on forcing these trackers on me, I won’t be able to stop him.

  But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.

  “Fuck you,” I say, clearly enunciating each word. “Fuck you and these chips of yours.” And operating on pure adrenaline-driven instinct, I shove the dinner plates across the table at Julian and bolt for the door.

  The plates crash to the floor with a shattering noise, and I hear Julian cursing as he jumps back to avoid getting splattered with food. He’s distracted for a moment, and that’s all the time I need as I sprint to the door and out into the foyer. I don’t know where I’m going, nor do I have anything resembling a plan. All I know is that I can’t stay there and meekly go along with this new violation.

  I can’t be Julian’s submissive little victim again.

  I hear him chasing after me as I run through the house, and I have a sudden flashback to my first day on the island. I ran then too, trying to escape from the
man who would become my entire life. I remember how terrified I felt, how woozy from the drugs he’d given me. That was the day Julian had first introduced me to the devastating pleasure-pain of his touch, the day I first realized I was no longer in charge of my life.

  I don’t know why I let this tracker thing surprise me. Julian has never once expressed regret over taking away any of my choices, has never apologized for kidnapping me or forcing me to marry him. He treats me well because he wants to, not because there are any adverse consequences to doing otherwise. There’s no one to stop him from doing anything he wants with me, no safe word that I can use to enforce my limits.

  I may be his wife, but I’m still his captive in every way that counts.

  I’m at the front door now, and I grab the handle, pulling it open. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ana standing near the wall, gaping at me as I fly out the door with Julian hot on my heels. I’m running so fast that I feel only a flash of embarrassment at the notion of her seeing us like this. I think our housekeeper suspects the BDSM-y nature of our relationship—my summer clothes don’t always hide the marks Julian leaves on my skin—and I hope she chalks this up to nothing more than a kinky game.

  I have no idea where I’m heading as I sprint down the front steps, but that doesn’t matter. All I want is to evade Julian for a few moments, to buy myself some time. I don’t know what it will gain me, but I know that I need this—that I need to feel like I did something to defy him, that I didn’t bow down to the inevitable without a fight.

  I’m halfway across the wide green lawn when I feel Julian gaining on me. I can hear his harsh breathing—he must be going at his top speed as well—and then his hand closes around my left upper arm, spinning me around and yanking me into his hard body.

  The impact stuns me for a moment, knocking the breath out of my lungs, but my body reacts on autopilot, my self-defense training kicking in. Instead of attempting to pull away, I drop down like a stone, trying to pull Julian off-balance. At the same time, my knee comes up, aiming for his balls, and my right fist flies straight at his chin.

  Anticipating my move, he twists at the last moment, turning so that my fist misses his face and my knee connects with his thigh instead. Before I get a chance to try anything else, he drops me, letting my back hit the grass, and immediately pins me down with his full weight, using his legs to control mine and catching my wrists to stretch my arms up above my head.

  I’m now completely incapacitated, as helpless as ever, and Julian knows it.

  A soft chuckle escapes his throat as he meets my furious gaze. “Dangerous little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, settling more comfortably on top of me. To my annoyance, his breathing is already beginning to return to normal, and his blue eyes are glowing with unconcealed amusement and delight. “You know, if I hadn’t been the one to teach you that move, my pet, it might’ve actually worked.”

  My chest heaving, I glare up at him, seething with an urge to do something violent to him. The fact that he’s enjoying this only intensifies my fury, and I buck upward with all my strength, trying to throw him off me. It’s futile, of course; he’s more than twice my size, every inch of his powerful body packed with steely muscle. All I succeed in doing is amusing him further.

  Well, that, and arousing him—as evidenced by the hardening bulge against my leg.

  “Let go of me,” I hiss between clenched teeth, sharply cognizant of my body’s automatic response to that hardness—to his body pressing against me this way. Being held down like this is something I associate with sex these days, and I hate that I’m turned on right now, my core pulsing with heated need despite my anger and resentment. It’s yet another thing I have no control over; my body is conditioned to respond to Julian’s dominance no matter what.

  His sensuous lips curl into a satisfied half-smile. The bastard is undoubtedly aware of my involuntary arousal. “Or what, my pet?” he breathes, staring at me as he pries my tense legs apart with his knees. “What are you going to do?”

  I glare at him defiantly, doing my best to ignore the threat of his rock-hard erection pressing against my entrance. Only his jeans and my flimsy underwear separate us now, and I know Julian can get rid of these barriers in a heartbeat. The only obstacle to him fucking me right now—and the one I’m counting on—is the fact that we’re in full view of all the guards and whoever else happens to be strolling by the house at this particular moment. Exhibitionism is not Julian’s thing—he’s too possessive for that—and I feel reasonably certain he won’t take me out in the open like this.

  He may do other things to me, but I’m safe from sexual punishment for now.

  That fact and my anger spur my reckless reply. “Actually, the real question is what are you going to do, Julian?” I say, my voice low and bitter. “Are you going to drag me kicking and screaming to get these trackers put in? Because that’s what you’ll have to do, you know—I’m not going to go along with this like some good little captive. I’m done playing that role.”

  His smile disappears, replaced by a look of ruthless determination. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Nora,” he says harshly and rises to his feet, hauling me up with him.

  I struggle, but it’s pointless; within a second, he has me lifted up in his arms, one of his hands restraining my wrists and the other arm tightly hooked under my knees, essentially immobilizing my legs. Incensed, I arch my spine, trying to break his grip, but he’s holding me too securely for that. All I succeed in doing is tiring myself out, and after a couple of minutes, I stop, panting in frustrated exhaustion as Julian begins walking back toward the house, carrying me like a helpless child.

  “You can scream if you want,” he informs me as we approach the porch steps. His voice is calm and detached, and his face is empty of all emotion as he glances down at me. “It won’t change anything, but you’re welcome to try.”

  I know he’s probably using reverse psychology on me, but I remain silent as he pushes open the front door with his back and enters the house. My earlier anger is fading, a kind of weary resignation taking its place. I’ve always known that fighting Julian is pointless, and what happened today only confirms that fact. I can resist all I want, but it will avail me nothing.

  As Julian carries me into the foyer, I see Ana still standing there, staring at us in shock and fascination. She must’ve stayed to watch the conclusion of the chase through the window, and I can feel her gaze following us as Julian walks past her without a word.

  Now that the immediate rush of adrenaline has passed, I am aware of a deep flush of embarrassment. It’s one thing for Ana to notice a few faint bruises on my thighs, but it’s another thing entirely for her to see us like this. I’m sure she’s seen worse—after all, she works for a crime lord—but I still can’t help feeling uncomfortably exposed. I don’t want people on the estate to know the truth about my relationship with Julian; I don’t want them to look at me with pity in their eyes. I had plenty of that back home in Oak Lawn, and I’m not eager to repeat the experience.

  “Are you just going to shove the trackers in?” I ask Julian as he brings me into our bedroom. “With no anesthesia or anything?” My tone is deeply sarcastic, but I am genuinely wondering about that. I know my husband enjoys inflicting pain on me sometimes, so it’s not entirely out of the question that this will be some type of a sexual thing for him.

  Julian’s jaw flexes as he lowers me to my feet. “No,” he says curtly, releasing me and stepping back. My eyes immediately stray to the door, but Julian is between me and the exit as he walks over to a small commode and rummages through the drawers. “I’ll make sure you don’t feel a thing.” And as I watch, he pulls out a small, very familiar-looking syringe.

  My insides grow cold. I recognize that syringe—it’s the one he had in his pocket when he came back for me, the one he would’ve used on me if I hadn’t gone with him of my own volition.

  “Is that how you drugged me when you stole me from the park?” My voice
is even, betraying little of the fact that I’m crumbling inside. “What kind of drug is that?”

  Julian sighs, looking inexplicably weary as he comes toward me. “It has a long, complicated name that I don’t remember off the top of my head—and yes, it’s what I used to bring you to the island. It’s one of the best drugs of its kind, with very few side effects.”

  “Few side effects? How lovely.” Taking a step back, I cast a frantic glance around the room, looking for something I can use to defend myself. There’s nothing, though. Other than a jar of hand creme and a box of tissues on the bed stand, the room is immaculately neat, free of clutter. I keep backing away until my knees hit the bed, and then I know I have nowhere else to go.

  I’m trapped.

  “Nora . . .” Julian is less than a foot from me now, the syringe in his right hand. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  Harder than it has to be? Is he fucking serious? A fresh spurt of fury gives me renewed strength. I throw myself on the bed and roll across it, hoping to make it to the other side so I can dash for the door. Before I get to the edge, however, Julian is on top of me, his muscular body pressing me into the mattress. With my face buried in the fluffy blanket, I can hardly breathe, but before I get a chance to panic, Julian shifts most of his weight off me, enabling me to turn my head to the side. As I suck in air, I feel him moving—he’s uncapping the syringe, I realize with an icy shudder—and I know I have only seconds before he drugs me again.

  “Don’t do this, Julian.” The words come out in a desperate, broken plea. I know begging him is futile, but there is nothing else I can do at this point. My heart pounds heavily in my chest as I play my last card. “Please, if you care for me at all—if you love me—please don’t do this . . .”

  I can hear his breath catching, and for a moment, I feel a spark of hope—a spark that’s immediately extinguished as he gently moves my tangled hair off my neck, exposing my skin. “It’s really not going to be that bad, baby,” he murmurs, and then I feel a sharp prick in the side of my neck.