Keep Me (6 page)

Rosa’s eyes widen. She’s clearly surprised by my invitation. “Oh, I’d love to,” she says sincerely, “but I need to help Ana prepare lunch and then clean the bedrooms upstairs . . .”

“Of course.” I feel slightly embarrassed because, for a moment, I forgot that Rosa is not here solely to keep me company—that she has actual duties and responsibilities around the house. “Well, in that case, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it.”

She grins at me. “It was my pleasure, happy to do it anytime.”

And as she busies herself in the kitchen, I head upstairs to change into a swimsuit.

I find Nora by the pool, lounging with a book under one of the umbrellas. Her slim legs are crossed at the ankles, and she’s wearing a strapless white bikini, her golden skin gleaming with droplets of water. She must’ve been swimming recently.

Hearing my footsteps, she sits up and places her book on a side table. “Hi,” she says softly when I approach her lounge chair. Her sunglasses are too big for her small face, making her look a bit like a dragonfly, and I make a mental note to buy her a more fitting pair on the next trip to Bogotá.

“Hello, my pet,” I murmur, sitting down on her chair. Raising my hand, I pull the sunglasses off her nose and lean forward to take her mouth in a short, deep kiss. She tastes like sunlight, her lips soft and yielding, and my cock instantly stiffens, reacting to the proximity of her almost-naked body. Tonight, I promise myself as I reluctantly lift my head. I will have her again tonight.

“What was your meeting about this morning?” she asks, her breathing slightly uneven after the kiss. Her dark eyes hold curiosity and just a hint of caution as she looks at me. She’s testing the waters again, trying to determine how much I’m willing to share with her now.

I consider that for a moment. It’s tempting to continue keeping her in the dark. Despite everything, Nora is still so naïve, so ignorant of the real world. She got a small taste of it back in that warehouse, but it was nothing compared to the things I deal with every day. I want to continue shielding her from the brutal nature of my reality, but there is no safety in ignorance any longer—not when my enemies know about her. Besides, I have a feeling my young wife is tougher than her delicate appearance would suggest.

She has to be, to survive me.

Arriving at a decision, I give her a cool smile. “We just got intelligence on two Al-Quadar cells,” I say, watching her reaction. “Now we’re figuring out how we can wipe them out and capture some of their members in the process. The meeting was to coordinate the logistics of that operation.”

Her eyes widen slightly, but she does a good job of controlling her shock at my revelations. “How many cells are there?” she asks, shifting forward in the chair. I can see her right palm curling into a fist next to her leg, though her voice remains calm. “How big is their organization?”

“Nobody knows, except their top leaders. That’s why it’s so hard to eradicate them—they’re scattered all over the world, like vermin. They made a mistake, though, when they tried to play hardball with me. I am very good at exterminating vermin.”

Nora swallows reflexively, but continues holding my gaze.
Brave girl.
“What did they want from you?” she asks. “Why did they decide to play hardball?”

I hesitate for a second, then decide to fill her in. She might as well know the full story at this point. “My company developed a new type of weapon—a powerful explosive that’s almost impossible to detect,” I explain. “A couple of kilos is all it would take to blow up a mid-sized airport, and a dozen kilos could take out a small city. It’s got the explosive force of a nuclear bomb, but it’s not radioactive, and the substance that it’s made of resembles plastic, so it can be molded into nearly anything . . . even children’s toys.”

She stares at me, her face turning pale. She’s beginning to understand the implications of this. “Is that why you didn’t want to give it to them?” she asks. “Because you didn’t want to place such a dangerous weapon in the hands of terrorists?”

“No, not really.” I give her an amused look. It’s sweet of her to ascribe noble motives to me, but she should know better at this point. “It’s simply that the explosive is difficult to produce in large quantities, and I already have a long list of buyers waiting. Al-Quadar was at the very bottom of that list, so they would’ve had to wait years, if not decades, to get it from me.”

To Nora’s credit, her expression doesn’t change. “So who is at the top of your list?” she says evenly. “Some other terrorist group?”

“No.” I laugh softly. “Not even close. It’s your government, my pet. They put in an order so large, it will keep my factories busy for years.”

“Oh, I see.” Initially she appears relieved, but then a puzzled frown creases her smooth forehead. “So legitimate governments buy things from you too? I thought the US military developed their own weapons . . .”

“They do.” I grin at her naïveté. “But they would never pass up a chance to get their hands on something like this. And the more they buy, the less I can sell to others. It’s an arrangement that works well for everyone.”

“But why don’t they just take it from you by force? Or simply shut down your factories?” She stares at me in confusion. “In general, if they know of your existence, why do they allow you to produce illegal weapons?”

“Because if I didn’t do it, somebody else would—and that person might not be nearly as rational and pragmatic as I am.” I can see the disbelieving look on Nora’s face, and my grin widens. “Yes, my pet, believe it or not, the US government would rather deal with me, who bears America no particular ill will, than to have someone like Majid in charge of a similar operation.”

“Majid?”

“The motherfucker who killed Beth.” My voice hardens, my amusement disappearing without a trace. “The one responsible for stealing you at the clinic.”

Nora tenses at the mention of Beth, and I see her hands balling into fists again. “The Suit—that’s what I called him in my mind,” she murmurs, her gaze appearing distant for a moment. “Because he was wearing a suit, you see . . .” She blinks, then focuses her attention on me again. “That was Majid?”

I nod, keeping my expression impassive despite the rage churning inside me. “Yes. That was him.”

“I wish he hadn’t died in the explosion,” she says, surprising me for a moment. Her eyes glitter darkly in the sunlight. “He didn’t deserve such an easy death.”

“No, he didn’t,” I agree, now comprehending her meaning. Like me, she wishes that Majid had suffered. She hungers for revenge; I can hear it in her voice, see it on her face. It makes me wonder what would happen if she somehow ended up with Majid at her mercy. Would she be able to truly hurt him? To inflict such pain that he would beg for death?

It’s an idea I find more than a little intriguing.

“Did you ever bring Beth here?” she asks, interrupting that train of thought. “To this compound, I mean?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Before she came to stay on the island, Beth traveled with me, and I didn’t come here for a long time.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “It wasn’t my favorite place, I guess,” I say casually, ignoring the dark memories that flood my mind at her innocent question. The estate was where I’d spent most of my childhood, where my father’s belt and fists reigned supreme until I was old enough to fight back. It was where I killed my first man—and where I came to retrieve my mother’s bloodied corpse twelve years ago. It wasn’t until I renovated the house completely that I could stand the thought of coming to live here again, and even then, it’s only Nora’s presence that makes it bearable for me to be here.

She places her hand on my knee, bringing me back to the present. “Julian . . .” She pauses for a moment, as though unsure whether to proceed. Then she apparently decides to forge ahead. “There’s something I would like to ask you,” she says quietly, but firmly.

I lift my eyebrows. “What is it, my pet?”

“I took lessons back home,” she says, her hand unconsciously tightening on my knee. “Self-defense and shooting, that sort of thing . . . and I’d like to resume them here, if possible.”

“I see.” A smile curves my mouth. My earlier speculations had been right, it seems. She’s not the same frightened, helpless girl I brought to the island. This Nora is stronger, more resilient . . . and even more appealing. I remember reading about her lessons in Lucas’s report, so her request is not totally unexpected. “You would like me to train you how to fight and use weapons?”

She nods. “Yes. Or maybe have someone else teach me, if you’re busy.”

“No.” The thought of any one of my men laying his hands on her, even in a teaching capacity, makes me see red. “I will teach you myself.”

* * *

I decide to start Nora’s training that afternoon, after I catch up on a few business emails. For some reason, I like the idea of teaching her self-defense. I don’t intend for her to ever be in a dangerous situation again, but I still want her to know how to protect herself if the need arises.

The irony of what I’m doing doesn’t escape me. Most people would say I’m the one she needs protection from, and they would probably be right. I don’t give a fuck, though. Nora is mine now, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if it involves teaching her how to kill someone like me.

When I’m done with my emails, I go searching for her back at the house. This time I find her in the house gym, running on the treadmill at full speed. Judging by the sweat trickling down her slender back, she’s been going at this pace for a while.

Making sure not to startle her, I come up to her from the side.

Spotting me, she reduces the speed on the treadmill, slowing down to a jog. “Hi,” she says breathlessly, reaching for a small towel to wipe her face. “Is it time for the training?”

“Yes, I have a couple of hours now.” My words come out low and husky as a familiar surge of arousal hardens my cock. I love seeing her like this, all out of breath, with her skin damp and glowing. It reminds me of how she looks after a particularly messy bout of sex. Of course, the fact that she’s wearing only a pair of running shorts and a sports bra doesn’t help. I want to lick the droplets of sweat off her smooth, flat belly, then throw her on the nearest mat for a quick fuck.

“Excellent.” She gives me a huge smile and hits the ‘Stop‘ button on the treadmill. Then she hops off the machine, grabbing her water bottle. “I’m ready.”

She looks so excited that I decide to hold off on the mat fucking for now. Delayed gratification can be a good thing, and I did carve out this time specifically for her training.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s go.” And taking her hand, I lead her out of the house.

We go to the field where I usually work out with my men. At this time of day, it’s too hot for serious exercise, so the area is largely empty. Still, as we pass by, I see a few of the guards surreptitiously staring at Nora. It makes me want to rip their eyes out. I think they can tell—because they look away as soon as they glance at me. I know it’s irrational to be this possessive of her, but I don’t care. She belongs to me, and they all need to know that.

“What are we doing first?” she asks as we approach a storage shed in the corner of the training field.

“Shooting.” I give her a sideways look. “I want to see how good you are with a gun.”

She smiles, her eyes gleaming with eagerness. “I’m not bad,” she says, and the confidence in her voice makes me grin. It seems that my pet learned a few things in my absence. I can’t wait to see her demonstrate her new skills.

Inside the shed are some weapons and training gear. Going in, I select a few of the most commonly used guns—everything ranging from a 9mm handgun to an M16 assault rifle. I even grab an AK-47, although she might be too small to use it with ease.

Then we go outside to the shooting range.

There are a number of targets set up at different intervals. I have her begin with the closest target: a dozen empty beer cans propped on a wooden table some fifty feet away. Handing her the 9mm, I instruct her on how to use it and then have her aim at the cans.

To my shock, she hits ten of the twelve cans on her first try. “Dammit,” she mutters, lowering the weapon. “I can’t believe I missed those two.”

Surprised and impressed, I have her try out the other guns. She’s comfortable with most types of handguns and hunting rifles, hitting most of the targets again, but her arms shake when she tries to aim the AK-47.

“You would have to get stronger to use that one,” I tell her, taking the assault rifle from her.

She nods in agreement, reaching for her water bottle. “Yes,” she says between sips. “I want to get stronger. I want to be able to handle all these weapons, same as you.”

I can’t help laughing at that. Despite her generally easygoing nature, Nora has a strong competitive streak. I’ve noticed it before, when we did that three-mile race on the island.

“Okay,” I say, still chuckling. Taking the bottle from her, I drink some water and then return it to her. “I can train you to get stronger as well.”

After she practices shooting a few more times, we return the guns to the shed. Then I take her to the indoor training gym, to show her some basic fighting moves.

Lucas is there, sparring with three of the guards. Seeing us enter the room, he stops and respectfully nods at Nora, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on her face. He knows by now how I feel about her, and is smart enough not to display any interest in her slim, half-naked form. His sparring partners, however, are not that wise, and it takes a murderous glare from me for them to stop gaping at her.

“Hi Lucas,” Nora says, ignoring this little interplay. “It’s good to see you again.”

Lucas gives her a carefully neutral smile. “You too, Mrs. Esguerra.”

To my annoyance, Nora visibly flinches at the moniker, and my mild irritation with the guards morphs into sudden anger at her. Her reluctance to marry me earlier is like a festering splinter at the back of my brain, and it doesn’t take much to bring back the way I felt at the church.

For all of her supposed love for me, she still refuses to accept our marriage, and I’m no longer inclined to be reasonable and forgiving.

“Out,” I bark at Lucas and the guards, jerking my thumb toward the door. “We need this space.”

They clear out within seconds, leaving me and Nora alone.

She takes a step back, suddenly looking wary. She knows me well, and I can tell she senses something amiss.

As usual, she can guess what it is. “Julian,” she says cautiously, “I didn’t mean to react like that. I’m just not used to being called that, that’s all . . .”