Escape From Paradise (32 page)

“I…” She shook her head. “I don’t know how.”

“It will take time, but you’ll learn again.”

She didn’t seem so sure, but she dropped it and asked, “How do you know my name?”

This was where the shock would set in. For the past week she’d seen Colin as one of Marco’s patrons. And now she’d learn the truth. He prayed that someday she might find it in her heart to forgive him.

“I’m an undercover Agent for the MI-6. Your parents sought our help.”

“My parents.” Colin barely heard the whispered words, spoken through her quivering lips. Her whole body began to shake, and she brought her hands to cover her mouth as the first of the tears began to fall.

Colin reached out to wipe the streaks away, but Angela yelped and jumped back, crouching low in the seat.

“I’m sorry!” she whispered. Her tears had dried as a look of animal fear settled on her face. Colin felt a knot in his chest as he remembered how Marco had slapped her face when she cried.

“Fuck, Angela, I’d never hit you! That is…I know I
did
, and… bloody hell, I’m sorry for that. I’m fucking sorry for it all.” He was stuttering like a lad.

She was still shaking, staring at him. Her head slowly cocked to the side as if working out a puzzle in her mind. Colin could see the moment it all hit her, and his hear sank.

“You.” She spoke quietly. “You’re not…you didn’t even want to do those things.”

Colin said nothing, because he
had
wanted to do those things. Only not against her will.

She tore her eyes away and a hard shiver ripped through her body.

“I did the only things I could think of to save you.” He hated the way he sounded, defending himself like a God damned bastard.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins, burying her face in her knees and whispering, “Oh, my God.” Her breaths came in pants, like she was trying hard not to cry. “I thought you were going to own me.”

“Aye. I understand if you hate me,” Colin said, his voice thick. “You never have to see me again once I hand you off safely to your family.”

Her head snapped up, eyes red and terror-stricken.

“You’re leaving me?”

“What?” His heart jolted with hope he shouldn’t have allowed himself to feel. He reached out to touch her, and she watched as he changed his mind and pulled his hand back. “No, I—”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. Her eyes filled with moisture and she wouldn’t look at him. She buried her face in her knees again. “I’m sorry you had to touch me. I’m sorry you had to be there and go through all of that for me.”

Her tears spilled over now and she shrunk away from him, wiping them as quickly as they fell.

“Och…” He had no idea what to fucking say. He was confused as he tried to process her words. “Angela, you’ve no need to apologize. I took this case willingly, and I’d do it all again to save you. I’m just…” He searched for the words—he’d always been terrible at voicing his feelings, and really he’d never had a need to do so before. “I’m sorry as fuck that I took advantage of you while you were a slave.”

Finally she looked at him, her eyes wide.

“You didn’t take advantage of me.” She sounded surprised that he thought it, the poor wee lassie. She’d been brainwashed at the villa, and it was time to clear her of those notions, no matter how sordid it caused him to appear.

“Aye, I fucking did.” Colin ground his teeth together and turned to stare out at the white clouds. He fisted his hands, and his knee bounced.

“Mr. Douglas…”

His whole body stilled when he felt her hand on his thigh, accompanying that soft whisper of his name. Her hand moved farther in, and lust clutched him, tensing his hips, hardening his cock. He closed his eyes and grasped her slender wrist.

“My name is Colin.”

“Colin.”

His name in her sweet voice, like she was tasting it, completed the painful erection behind the zipper of his trousers. He shifted, but there was no hiding it.

“Let me take care of you.” Her free hand cupped his hardness through the fabric, and Colin groaned, grasping that wrist, as well.

“No, Angela. You don’t have to do this anymore.”

“I want to.”

With her wrists still being held, she swiftly moved to mount his lap, her legs on either side of him, the dress pushing up.

“Ah, fuck.” He dropped her wrist and grabbed her hips to still her. When he looked in her eyes, it wasn’t lust he saw. It was desperation. Sadness. Fear. Enough to shatter his hard heart.

And then she put her hands on his face and kissed him.

At the feel of her soft, persistent mouth against his, he lost control. His hands fisted in her hair and his mouth took over, owning hers. She moaned and pushed her hips down until her warm pussy was rubbing hard against him.

Her hands went to his pants, unbuttoning, unzipping.

What the fuck was he doing?

“Wait—”

“I want you,” she breathed against his mouth. “Fuck me, Mr. Douglas,
please
.”

“Angela.” It about killed him to do it, but he reached between them and grabbed her hand.

She moved against him with renewed, desperate fervor. “Please, master, fuck me. I need you.”

“Ah, shite.” With swift moves he took her by the hips and lifted her off his lap, moving to stand. He felt like a sick fucker for letting it go as far as it had. “I’m not your master, Angela.”

She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around his legs, pressing her face to his thigh, and crying. “I need you to be my master. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Angela…” He tried to step back, but her arms bound his legs as she repeated over and over.

“
I need you. I don’t know what to do.
”

He stood there dumbfounded and shaken as her sobs filled the cabin, the sound hammering against his heart. At a complete loss, he lowered himself to his knees with her and held her in his arms, letting her cry onto his chest.

“It’ll be alright, sweet lassie. I swear to you. You’ll be okay.”

He had no idea if his words were helping. He was no good at calming distraught women. But she clung to him as she cried, her fingers digging into the fabric at his back, and he let her.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I can’t…stop crying.”

“You can cry,” he said. “You never have to be afraid again. I won’t let them near you, I swear it.”

After a moment she took a shuddering breath and asked, “Is he dead?”

“He’s dead.”

“And my mom and dad? They’re really…oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It’s happening, Angela. You’re free.”

Another resounding wail of emotion pulled from her chest, and she shook in his arms.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged. “Please, don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

He held her so tightly he worried he’d crush her, but she didn’t complain. After awhile the wracking tears subsided, and she breathed heavily against him. He knew she was suffering from shock, and possibly even some hero complex that made her want to keep him near. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but as long as she wanted him by her side, that’s where he’d stay. Someday she would come to her senses and feel all the negative things he expected her to feel toward him. When that happened, he would leave. But for now, nobody could tear him way.

I hadn’t cried like that since the day I’d been locked in the cellar at the villa over a year ago. It was cleansing and renewing, but it made me tired. I leaned against Mr. Douglas—
Colin
—with my arms encircling his bicep as we sat there, realizing just how needy I was. In my freak out, I’d made a fool of myself, begging him to have sex with me. It would never happen. He was a man, yes. My touches made him hard, but he didn’t want me like that. I was a job to him. He’d had plenty of opportunities and never taken them. Deep down, that fact sliced through me and stung, while also making me begrudgingly admire him.

I was certain he was humoring me now. Being kind. And I was grateful for it, but I knew it couldn’t last. He would hand me over to my parents and I’d most likely never see him again.

My hold on his arm tightened and he patted my knee. So comforting.

I thought back to the moments we’d shared at the villa. All along he’d known who I was. It made sense now that he looked at me differently. Part of me wished he hadn’t kissed me the way he had, or painted me as if I were beautiful to him. Maybe he’d been trying to win me over, as well as Marco, so that I wouldn’t object when it was time to leave with him. Whatever the reason, I kind of wish he hadn’t been such a great actor. He’d made me want him too much.

I couldn’t think about him leaving me without a feeling of panic threatening. How could I ever feel safe without him? I felt pathetic and weak, wanting to keep him by my side, in my sight.

I used to have an inner-feminist who would bitch slap me at the sound of these “dependence upon a man” thoughts, but she’d been the first aspect of my personality to be murdered at the villa. I didn’t know if I’d ever feel her strong, independent presence again.

An image of my mother flitted into my mind and it made my sinuses burn with rising emotion. She was strong—a Texan beauty with her short, coifed blonde hair and sunny smile. She raised me to shoot for my dreams, and to be able to support myself. Would she be ashamed to see how far I’d fallen? And what about my dad? When he found out I’d been a prostitute for drug dealers and murderers, would he be able to stomach my presence?

I wasn’t their little girl anymore, and I could never go back to being her again. I would never be good enough. They’d still love me, I knew they would, but it could never be the same. Our love would be tainted by the big, ugly thing that happened to me. The lie I’d told, and my act of disobedience that ruined everything for our family.

A choking sob erupted from my throat and I bit it back, burying my face against Mr. Douglas’s shoulder. He reached over and ran a hand down my arm.

“Mentí,” I whispered.

He pulled away and looked at me. “What, lass?”

I stared at his chest. “I lied.”

“To me?”

“My parents.” My voice was thick again. “I wasn’t supposed to go to Cancun.”

“I’m certain that’s the least of their concerns at this point.” He took my hand. “Angela. I know this is not going to be easy for you, but I need to know what happened in Cancun. I need to know how you ended up with Marco Ruiz.” He lifted my chin and I looked into his serious, compassionate eyes. “Can you tell me?”

I swallowed hard. My stomach squeezed in a fit of residual panic when I thought about that night. But I took a deep breath, nodded, and told Colin Douglas everything that happened. I watched his hands open and close in tight fists as I recapped Fernando’s actions.

“Do you have any idea where he is, Angela?”

“Marco said he was sending him to Asia, but that was two years ago, and I haven’t heard anything about him since.”

His jaw moved from side to side as he stared off in thought.

“What’s going to happen?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But you don’t need to worry, okay? You should try to eat something. They’ve usually got sandwiches and drinks—”

“No.” I couldn’t eat.

I shivered and he pulled me into his arms again, where I stayed for the duration of our flight.

The air in Scotland was cool that evening as we were ushered straight from the plane into the back seat of a tinted, black sedan. The driver gave a mustached grin as he stuck out his hand to Mr. Douglas.

“Agent Douglas. Well done, pal. Very well done.” He sped us away from the airfield.

When we stopped at a light he turned and held his hand out to me. “Angela Birch? Welcome to Scotland. I’m Agent Abernathy.”

I looked to Mr. Douglas, who nodded his approval before I took the man’s hand, feeling skittish and out of my element at this innocent touch from a man. “Hi,” I forced myself to say.

He turned back to the road and spoke as he drove. “The Birch family arrived at Graham’s this afternoon. They’ve taken residence in Scotland for the past four months in hopes that this day would arrive.”

Giant butterflies swooped inside of me and my heart slammed in my chest.