The demands of being a single father had been the reason Jared needed to get out of the CIA. He’d tried to offer his boys a degree of normalcy. Jared prayed the time he’d spent raising them had been successful in achieving that. Now, at the age of twenty-two, his sons knew there was nothing Jared wouldn’t do for them.
“And now, there’s Paxton Lee.” He listened to his voice. His lips twitched. At first, he’d fought the attraction he had toward her but the more their paths crossed, the more he’d allowed his heart to open to the possibility of finally having found the kind of woman he’d been searching for his entire life.
She was strong, independent, and wicked smart. She personified everything he admired in a woman. There was no denying the sexual chemistry that flowed between them. He’d had a couple of Dom/sub relationships over the years but none of them had been long term. There had always been something amiss. Paxton Lee filled that hollow.
He had deliberately played at being a chauvinistic asshole, goading her to test her response— to establish if she was a strong enough submissive for the kind of Dom he was. He loved her sassiness; how much it warmed his heart that she challenged him intellectually as well as physically.
As a Dom he was drawn to a strong woman who exuded confidence— not only in her career but also in her personal life as well as in herself as a submissive. Paxton had proven that she had the strength he needed in a submissive— one who acknowledged her own needs. Paxton needed a Dom strong enough to dominate her.
Jared had felt the submissive inside her reach out to him. He fully embraced it, accepting that he was the one to offer her the release she craved. He had already admitted that he wanted her in his life... in more ways than just her role as a submissive partner. Jared was after more than her body. He wanted it all— her body, heart, and soul.
Being her Dom had become like a mantra in his mind lately, albeit crowded by the danger she was in. She might be highly trained in combat as an army ranger but since he’d already committed— albeit one-sided as yet— to become her Dom, her safety was of the utmost importance to him. Jared would protect her with his life if it came to that.
“She has no idea what Boneiro is capable of. I’ll be damned if he destroys my one chance at love and happiness.”
Chapter Eight
The hills and valleys were a patchwork of bright green, variegated by the shadows of passing clouds. Some were shallower than others, but most had steep paths that took you to one side of their summit and then down to the next valley below. There was every hue from new spring grass to deep, emerald forest. There wasn't much to threaten a hiker in these woods, except perhaps the occasional mountain lion.
The rustic cabin dotted the grassy hills of the lower slopes of San Bruno Mountain. Luca downshifted to speed up the incline of the nonexistent driveway. He drove around the house to park out of sight.
He glanced around as he cut the engine. All was quiet. No cars, no movement— just the rustle of an inbound zephyr through the treetops. In the distance, a crenulation of mountains, softened by the virescence of an arboreal blanket, receded under an atmospheric haze.
“I hope I didn’t come all this way for fucking nothing,” he muttered as he got out of the silver Audi Q10.
Luca was acting on a hunch that he’d find his brothers and their soldiers at the hidden cabin not too far from Ridge Trail. Marco had chosen this location for a secret hideout since it was situated close to Brisbane, a small community situated twenty miles south of San Francisco— where no one would think to search for them. Marco had donated a substantial sum of money to Jackson Killsing, the California Secretary for Natural Resources at the time, to obtain ownership for the parcel of land. It was perfect. Disguised on the outside to resemble a revetment to house firefighting equipment and well away from the beaten track of hiking trails, it was invisible unless stumbled on by sheer luck.
The pebbles around the cabin crunched under his soles as he walked toward the front door. Marco didn’t believe in doing anything half-hearted— not even a place that was purpose-built for a hideout. It sprouted from his love for everything luxurious, which was depicted in the two-storied home he’d built there.
Luca pushed against the door, which easily swung open into a large, airy entrance hall. The fact that it wasn’t locked confirmed someone was in residence. For a moment he didn’t move as he soaked in the relaxing ambience of the interior.
The floor was a herringbone parquet with a blend of deep browns. The walls were sandstone and added to the warm interior of the house. Twirling branches of ironwood made up the banisters, tamed by a carpenter's hand, was the focal point. Its aqueous grain flowed gracefully in waves of woodland hues. Under the lamp-shine, it was nature's art.
Luca was reminded once again of the intricacies that made up the DNA of his father. No one in the crime world would believe he had a love for art and nature. It was a contradiction to the brutality he was known for.
He turned his head and listened. A muted rustle coming from the grand entry drew his attention, urging him to withdraw a semi-automatic from his waistband as he moved deeper into the cabin. His steps were muted as he walked under the arch created by the staircases on either side of the room. A lesson he had learned under his father’s tutelage was never to be complacent. Always be prepared for the unexpected. If the situation demanded it, shoot to kill.
Unlike his younger brothers, Luca wasn’t trigger happy but he had no intention of getting shot by his jackass siblings. Whoever was here must’ve heard his SUV drive up, which gave them ample time to prepare an ambush.
His nose quivered in disgust as he entered the living area. It was a cluttered mess with various pieces of clothes strewn over the sofas and chairs. He didn’t need any further clues that this uber-chaos was the work of Stefano, his youngest brother. The empty bottles of beer and partially drunken glasses of hard liquor that were littered everywhere was proof enough.
“Get your asses out here, you fucking imbeciles,” he bellowed.
“Luca? Hell, brother, you shoulda called out sooner. I nearly shot your fucking ass,” Stefano said as he appeared from a room down the hallway.
Luca holstered his gun. Anger flowed through his body like deathly poison as he watched Rocco and Stefano approach. The purple bruises covering their faces told a tale without words. The volcano inside him threatened to erupt. He had been right. They had kidnapped Senator Wilson’s daughter. What sparked his rage was knowing they’d been caught.
“You better start talking, Stefano.”
“Hey, bro! How about a hug first?” Stefano hedged with a wary look in his eyes. They knew firsthand how volatile their brother could become when angered.
Stefano’s words were like a red rag to a bull. Luca’s face bloomed crimson.
“I don’t have time for your fucking games,” he snarled as his hands clenched into fists. His jaw locked as he nodded toward the sofa. “Sit the fuck down before you pass out, you idiot.”
Rocco’s left eye was so badly swollen that he couldn’t see out of it. Stefano nursed a set of cracked ribs and swollen fingers. “Before you get your boxers all in a twist, big brother, just listen to us,” Rocco tried to reason with him. The fury that exploded in Luca’s eyes at his audacity to ridicule the Underboss of the Boneiro Mafia made him wince. He held up his hand apologetically. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it but you already judged and found us guilty without knowing what happened.”
“Yeah! Rocco is right.” Stefano gestured at his bruised face. “You should be thanking us instead of bludgeoning us with your scorn. We’re fuckin’ heroes but I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise that these bruises are the only medals of honor we’ll get for our trouble.”