Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

With all the beer I drank, my bladder is full. When the women go to the bushes where everyone relieves themselves, I follow. We’re laughing as we make our way back, but close to the bar, the laughter dies down. I look around for the reason.

Shit.

My laughter dries up too.

Ian leans on the pillar of the awning, looking as pissed off as hell.

Chapter 12

Ian

When that delectable woman enters my line of vision, I relax considerably. Banga is getting a bonus for tipping me off. Her friends notice me first. They approach with caution, probably from the look on my face. Cas finally spots me. Her reaction is the same as that of her friends. Damn right. Coming out alone at night is no laughing matter.

Instead of coming over, she goes to a table and downs the dreg of a beer. Her gaze is defiant as she holds mine. Of course it is.

As she’s making it clear that she’s not going to come to me, I push off the pillar and walk to her. Her pretty blue eyes are spitting fire, throwing me back to the first night I saw her at the casino. In hindsight, that fire and sassy attitude attracted me more than her angelic face and centerfold body.

She lifts her chin when I stop in front of her. Her tone is full of bitterness and sarcasm. “Did you have fun?”

“Are you?”

She cocks a hip. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Fun’s over, baby doll.”

I turn in silent instruction for her to follow, but her, “No,” finds my back.

Pausing, I look at her. “What did you say to me?”

“You can’t go out and do whatever the hell you please and leave me grounded here like some fucking teenager.”

“Grounded?” I have a good mind to ground her now.

“Or do you get to have five wives?” she asks with a taunting smile.

Whoa. Where is this coming from? What’s with the anger? If anyone should be angry, it’s me. It’s been a long night, and I’ve left our meeting early to haul her ass home.

My patience snaps. She shrieks when I fold my arms around the back of her knees and throw her over my shoulder. Wolf whistles and clapping follow us from the bar and across the street.

She slams her fists on my back, hammering my kidneys and injured shoulder. “Put me down.”

“Stop making a scene.”

My words seem to fuel her anger. She redoubles her efforts, actually getting a punch in on my wound that hurts.

I nod at Banga who’s sitting in the parked Jeep, a command to drive back, and lower my obstinate package into the passenger seat of the Hummer. She fights me as I strap her safety belt. I’m seriously starting to consider tying her up.

“Want me to tie your hands and feet?” I ask, voicing my threat. “As your punishment, I may just decide to leave you tied up the whole damn night.”

She stills, but she doesn’t hold back the insults. “You’re a brute.”

Damn right. She has no idea.

I get behind the wheel and drive us home in brooding silence. Banga continues to the main building to park the Jeep. I stop at my bungalow.

Before I can grab my rifle, she’s already out of the vehicle and stomping to the room. She doesn’t wait for me to go inside and make sure it’s safe. I catch up with her by the bed, pushing her aside to do a quick evaluation. Despite all the precautions of doorstoppers and mosquito screens, reptiles do sometimes get in. Scorpions have a cunning way of crawling through the drainpipes and surfacing in the shower, and snakes have a way of wiggling through the thatch.

Only when I’ve checked under the bed and behind the furniture do I lock the rifle in the closet lest she gets the idea of shooting me with my own gun. I wouldn’t put it past her.

She’s watching me from the side of the bed, her arms crossed. Her cheeks are flushed with a mixture of too much sun and anger. I want to strip her from those baggy jeans and hiking shoes and whip her ass before covering her in punishing kisses, but what I have to say is more important.

“You’re never to go out at night on your own again.” I tower over her, intimidating her with my size. I need this message to sink in. “Is that clear?”

“Sexist much?” She cocks her hip. “I don’t care for your double standards.”

“Dammit, Cas. It’s not safe. You won’t risk your life again.”

“But you go out whenever and to wherever you please.”

“I’m a big man and I have a weapon to defend myself.”

She lifts her chin another inch. “Then give me a gun.”

We’re not back to talking about trust again. “Do you even know how to shoot one?”

She narrows her pretty eyes. “Better than you.”