Kira's gaze flicked to his hand, then back to his eyes.
"Touch me again, Martin, and you might have a stub where that hand used to be," she warned as Daniel's shadow fell over him, causing Martin's bodyguards to tense as well.
Martin flicked his hand at the goons posing as security and flashed her a rare smile of amusement.
"Fuentes is watching you very carefully, little one," he said. "Are you certain there is not more than mere friendship that binds you? I have not seen our friend over there so upset over a woman in all the years I have known him."
And there were a lot of years to back that up. Ian and Martin had clashed more than once, and several times the drug runner had come against the SEAL team Ian had worked with.
"Perhaps it's indigestion." She shrugged, refusing to glance back at Ian again. "I'm not here to discuss Ian's problems, I'm here to enjoy a few drinks. You're interfering in that."
A small frown flitted around his brow. "So inhospitable?" he asked. "You confuse me, ma petite. The niece of one of the world's richest men, and you resort to lowering yourself to a traitor and drug cartel owner? How can this be? Surely your tastes are more refined?"
Kira folded her hands in her lap and watched him silently, archly, for long moments.
"Daniel, could you have the valet bring our car around now." She directed her response to her bodyguard. "Mr. Missern is beginning to bore me." She moved to slide from the booth.
"Non, non, you must not leave yet." Martin's hand snapped out, as though to grip her wrist to stop her. A dominant, forceful move backed by enough strength to break her wrist if he wasn't careful.
Missern was a termite. A shifty little maggot known for manhandling his women.
Before his fingers could wrap around her flesh she had two of his fingers in her hold, pressing back, shocking him into stilling and watching her with narrow-eyed silence.
"You know the rules, Martin," she reminded him softly. "Don't touch me, and I won't touch you." He flinched as she exerted just enough pressure to assure him she could dislocate the digits before he could make a move for her.
"Kira, little love." Josef, Martin's twin, grinned at the exchange. "Release Martin now. He will be a good boy, will you not, Martin?"
Martin's lip curled as she released him, his brow twitching disdainfully as he glared at her.
"Martin's temper is growing more testy Josef," she pointed out. "Are you certain he's had all his shots?"
"Why, you little bitch." Martin wasn't one to take insults lightly from a woman.
Distantly, Kira knew what was coming. She saw the shift of his body, the flash of his hand, and knew there was no way to stop the blow. Even Daniel wasn't that fast.
But someone else was. A breath away from her cheek, Martin's hand stopped abruptly, and Kira was dragged around the booth, sliding on the smooth leather of the seat as Daniel bounded over the back and landed where she had been sitting.
His weapon was in his hand, his expression furious as he stared at the Misserns. Both men had lifted their hands in a gesture of surrender, though triumph filled their faces.
"Get her the fuck out of here!" Ian's voice snapped at her ear as he pushed her at Daniel. "Now!"
Turning, blazing with fury, she faced a demon she couldn't have expected and a small crowd of bouncers as they moved in to shelter the altercation. Yep, Coronado's at its finest. They didn't care who killed or who died, as long as the customers were shielded from actually witnessing who did the killing.
"Take your hands off me!" She jerked her arm from his grip. "And go to hell. I don't need you or anyone else rescuing me."
Hard hands gripped her upper arms, jerking her close, as his head lowered, his nose nearly touching hers, anger flowing from him like waves of heat.
"Don't push me, Kira," he bit out. "You won't like the consequences."
"Push you, Mr. Fuentes?" she questioned him vehemently. "I have no intention of doing anything so crass. But if you don't let me go you're going to lose a fine set of balls."
"How very interesting," Josef called out gleefully. "Have you met your match, Fuentes? The drug lord and the society princess. Now, who would have guessed at such a match?"
She saw the second Ian realized the mistake he had made in defending her, just as she realized how carefully Martin Missern had played this little debacle. It was well known that Kira did not tolerate men touching her without her permission, and he had deliberately touched her at every chance once he and his brother had joined her in the curved booth.
He had touched and pushed, and taken the opportunity to force Ian to show his hand. Because of something he had heard, something he had been paid to instigate? Or because someone knew something more?
Ian's head lifted, and when he stared back at Martin, his voice was cold, deadly. "We have a meeting tomorrow," he reminded the other man.
"We do," Martin answered smugly.
"Let your brother handle it. If I see you again, I'll put a bullet between your eyes. Do you understand me?"
"You will deal with me or you will not purchase the supplies you need." Martin laughed. "Come now, Ian, why allow a little society tramp such as this one to affect business?"
Pure murder burned in Ian's eyes then. Kira tensed at the icy fire, her heart racing in fear now.
"Consider that meeting canceled," Ian said softly. "You're not the only supplier. And you won't be alive long enough to provide anything I need."
Tightening his hand on her arm, he began dragging Kira through the crowd, ruthlessly ignoring her struggles and her curses.
She glanced over her shoulder at Daniel as he covered the rear, keeping his gaze carefully on the Missern brothers who had stood and now watched their departure, their expressions a mix of anger and concern.
"Hummer's waiting at the door, boss," Deke announced as he and another bodyguard cleared the way through the dance floor.
"Trevor, you and Cristo ride with her bodyguard. We'll meet at the villa."
"Which villa?" one of those other bodyguards called back.
"Mine!"
"Like hell," Kira protested loudly. Not that he seemed to be listening to her. "You can take me to my villa or let go of me now."
He ignored her, of course.
Stumbling, she fought to tear herself out of his grip, only to feel the world tip and sway. A second later she was fighting the knowledge that Ian had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of damned potatoes. At least he had the presence of mind to wrap his arm around her thighs and hopefully hide the fact that she wasn't wearing panties tonight.
"You bastard!" She tried to ram her elbow into his kidney, only to earn a hard, burning slap to her ass.
Oh no. He hadn't just smacked her butt. He wouldn't dare.
"I'll kill you myself," she screamed, trying to deliver another blow, only to earn another burning caress as they passed the exit.
She hated him. She hated him. She was going to kill him herself. Oh God, just as soon as she fucked him. Just as soon as the burning, tearing arousal echoing from those slaps eased just enough for her to figure out how to kill him.
"Get in there." An instant later she was bouncing on another leather seat. That of the extended Hummer, whose posh limolike facing seats, separated from the front driver's area, were a testament to the amount of money the Fuentes cartel had to burn.
Anger and arousal surged through her blood as she jumped for him. A week of aching pain, too many nightmares, and too many fears converged. The vehicle door slammed behind him as her fists struck his chest. His hands gripped her wrists, his larger body slammed her back to the seat, and within a second his lips were on hers, his body covering hers, his hands stroking, his knee parting her thighs, his groan meeting her moans as lust exploded between them.
She wasn't lost any more. It was her first thought as his lips ground into hers and he anchored her body against his. She wasn't lost, she wasn't reaching, she wasn't trying to fill the sudden emptiness inside her any longer. Ian w
as filling it. He was her match. The one man she couldn't defeat. The other half of her soul.
Her fingers curled as she strained against the grip he had on her. Her hips arched, pressing her sex tighter against the silk slacks he wore, loving the feel of his knee pressing into her.
His lips were devouring hers. Lips, teeth, tongue, he made good use of them all. He nipped and licked, stroked and consumed her. He fired responses in her that she didn't know she possessed, didn't know she could feel.
She was the female equivalent of his dominant force. She should be trying to claw his eyes out, not riding his knee with lusty hunger. And she sure as hell shouldn't be creaming so hard that the bare flesh of her pussy was dampening his slacks.
"Son of a bitch!" His head jerked up. "You're not wearing fucking panties."
He shifted back, his eyes focusing between her thighs, where the hem of her dress had ridden to the top of her legs.
"Panty lines," she mumbled, lifting to him again, arching against the hold he still had on her wrists.
His gaze jerked back to hers, his whisky eyes burning with hidden flames as his hair fell over his face, giving him a sensual, warriorlike appearance.
"Panty lines?" He blinked back at her.
"The dress is tight, Ian," she groaned. "The lines of the panties would have shown through it. Now would you please shut up and just kiss me again?"
Just one more of those openmouthed, "steal her soul" kisses and she might be able to save her sanity at a later date.
"You're not supposed to be here." His free hand followed the deep cut of the bodice of her dress, one finger burrowing beneath the material before dragging it over one hard, spiked nipple.
His nostrils flared. Lust raged in his eyes and in his expression, sparking a burning flame in her womb and whipping it to a conflagration of heat.
She could feel perspiration gathering on her face and beneath her breasts, dampening her but doing nothing to still the heat burning inside her.
"I'm not supposed to be anywhere else," she moaned as his thumb and forefinger gripped the hard point, tugging at it, tightening on it as the pressure of his grip sent wild fingers of sensation tearing across her nerve endings. "Let me go, Ian, let me touch you."
She was desperate to touch him. Had she ever needed to touch a man as desperately as she needed to touch him? She knew she hadn't. Knew that arousal and hunger had never been so fierce, so wicked.
Almost as fierce and wicked as the dark eyes trained on her breasts. They weren't young perky breasts. Not like the women who had surrounded him earlier in the club. Her breasts were full, swollen now with need, her nipples tight and hard, begging for his attention.
"I dream of this." His voice vibrated with dark desires. "Seeing you restrained beneath me, your body begging for my touch. Is that what you really want, Kira? Don't you know what you're risking here?"
She was certain if she stopped to think about it, then she would be terrified.
"What am I risking, Ian?" she whispered instead. "Or are you the one scared of the risk? Afraid that tough, hard heart of yours might be affected this time?"
His pupils dilated, his expression tightening as his brows lowered broodingly.
"I want you." The statement wasn't what she expected. "All of you."
"I need you," he repeated, glaring down at her, his body tense and fierce.
"I'm yours." She was panting? Hell, now she was panting. She wanted him with a hunger and a desperation she knew she had no hope of controlling.
His thumb and forefinger tightened on her nipple, sending a flash of erotic heat clashing through her system. "I want you beneath me or safely behind me, no matter what. You're driving me crazy putting yourself in danger."
She couldn't help the grin that tugged at her lips.
"No." She couldn't give him that. She wouldn't give him that. "Do you want me, Ian, or one of the mindless little submissives you've been fucking for years? If it's the latter you want, then you'll have to find it somewhere else."
She refused to be less than who she was with him. Not just a lover, but a partner. For so many years she had hidden who she was, always playing a role, always aware of the mission, whichever mission it might be. This time, she couldn't play a role. Not in his arms. Not with her heart.
She watched the gathering ire in his expression, felt the tension that raged in his body. But his touch never crossed the line between pleasure and pain.
"You think this is a game with me," he stated, his rough voice grating now. "Damn you, Kira. I can't think for the need to touch you, to hold you. To protect you." His fingers left her nipple but his head lowered, his tongue swiping over the now tender tip. He nipped the sensitive flesh, causing a shocked moan to leave her throat as pleasure washed through her system.
"I protect myself." Her voice was weak, too weak, as she felt his fingers at her thigh, felt his knee move back only to have his hand cup her sex. Grind against it. The heel of his palm rasping over her clit deliciously. "God, Ian, when will you realize we're together in this?"
Oh God, she could come so easily, from that touch alone. She stared back at him, dazed, on fire for him. All she wanted was the pleasure she had found in his arms before. The erotic high that came from an orgasm she had only found with him.
"You're mine while you're here. Period," he snarled. "I won't tolerate another man touching you or you will disappear, Kira, until this is over. Somewhere where you'll have no chance to escape. No chance to endanger yourself or what I'm doing here. Is this understood?"
The erotic high fizzled just enough for her to stare back at him in shock. He wasn't talking about sex. She would follow behind him in this operation or he would have her kidnapped.
"You wouldn't dare!" she whispered. Though she knew he would. He had hardened that much further, grown that much more determined in only eight months within the cartel.
Fury tightened his expression. "I'm the biggest fucking male chauvinist you'll ever meet in your life. The thought of my woman in danger is more than my guts can tolerate. You will do this my way or by God I'll make damned sure you're protected another way."
Dominant. Overbearing. Possessive. But at least he was admitting he was on an operation now.
"Ian, I know what I'm doing." Confusion colored her voice and she knew it. Hell, she was a trained contract agent and had been one for ten years now. She wasn't exactly a new recruit to this world.
Haunting shadows flashed in his gaze before his eyes slid down her body to where his hand cupped her pussy, his fingers caressing it. Her breath rasped from her chest as pleasure threatened to swamp her senses again.
When his eyes came back to hers, they were filled with tormented, raging desire. "I need your promise. You'll be careful. Let me protect you. No matter what."
"That's not an issue, Ian," she said.
"If you were hurt . . ." His throat worked convulsively as he swallowed. "Kira. Don't make me live with that. Don't make me have to live with your death."
What was she seeing in his eyes now? What was that lurking demon of pain that burned like a hidden flame?
"I could make you promise the same thing," she said softly. And she would agree simply because in allowing him to protect her, she could protect his back. And his soul. Because she knew what he intended would destroy a part of him if he were allowed to follow through with it.
For all his crimes, Fuentes was still his father. And for all the horror he had visited on others, he was also still a DHS contact that they didn't want to lose. That they couldn't afford to lose.
His fingers moved between her thighs then, two of them pressing hard and deep, forcefully, inside her weeping pussy. Her hips arched, one heel digging into the leather seat, the other into the floorboard as she worked his fingers deeper and felt the erotic flames licking through her body.
"I find out you arranged that scene with Missern and I'll blister your ass," he said with a groan, coming over her, his fingers fucking into her, stretching her, p
erspiration beginning to dampen her entire body. "I'll tie you to my bed for a week, Kira. You will never play games with me like that again."
Her head shook. "No game," she gasped, her muscles tightening convulsively on his fingers. "Ian, please."
His lips covered the nipple he had revealed, drawing it into his mouth, suckling with strong, heated hunger as pleasure began to steal her common sense.
She had never known sex could be this good. She had never imagined it. Never thought she could possibly lose her mind in a man's arms.
"Do you belong to me, Kira?" His head rose, his gaze pierced hers as she forced her eyes open. "Seeing you with Missern knowing he was ready to strike you. I wanted him dead."
He was talking to her? Asking her something? Now? While his fingers were filling her, stroking her, the tips rubbing in the most pleasurable spots, areas she never knew could feel so good.
"Belong to you?" she panted.
"Tell me you belong to me, Kira." His fingers moved harder, deeper, plunging into the slick, saturated muscles of her pussy as shudders of response raced through her.
"Always." She screamed the word. She couldn't hold it back, no more than she could hold back the knowledge that she did belong to him in ways that even she couldn't define.
It was a battle she would have to fight with herself later. Not now, because now she was consumed. His lips covered hers in reward, his tongue sinking deep, fucking into her mouth and driving her insane with the need to be closer as he controlled her movements with his hands and his body.
His fingers rasped and filled her pussy, stroked and plunged as the heel of his hand finally gave her the pressure she needed to explode.
She unraveled beneath him. Her breath became trapped in her throat, sensations sizzled across her flesh, and in one blinding second terror washed through her. Because no other man could do this. No other man could bring her to this point. And when the operation was over, if they survived, then Ian would walk away from her forever.