“Obviously not,” she finally said, swallowing hard, as if it sickened her to say the words. “But if I’m pregnant, I will kill you. I swear I will. I won’t let you anywhere near any of my children.”

“There were female operatives on this base at one point,” he said, forcing a bored note into his tone, even though he was so fucking relieved his knees felt weak. He hadn’t crossed that line and now he had a second chance to do this right. “There might be morning-after pills in the infirmary. I suggest we go look for one because the last thing I want is to curse another one of my children with you for a mother.”

Harley’s eyes narrowed as she shook her head slowly from side to side. “You’re the curse. I will die before I tell you where Jasper is. He’s better off with no parents than ending up with a monster like you.”

Clay reached down, snatching her shorts from the ground before grabbing her by the elbow. But he held her lightly. He wasn’t going to lose control again. He would make sure of it, by putting Harley where he should have put her in the first place—in a cell, with steel walls to keep her in and a steel door to keep them from getting too close to each other and igniting the dirty bomb that lived between them.

“You think I’m bluffing,” she said, allowing herself to be led along beside him, through the clearing and toward the main operations building beyond. “But I’m not.”

“I don’t think you’re bluffing,” he said. “I made the mistake of underestimating you. But from now on I’m going to treat you very seriously.”

She glanced sharply up at him, but he didn’t turn his head. He kept his gaze on the simple white and brown building ahead of him and his eyes empty, giving Harley no warning that she would be spending the rest of their time together in one of the CIA’s sensory stimulation cells.

There would be no deals; there would be no easy out.

He had proven that he lacked the emotional distance to interrogate her and she had shown him that she would rather take her chances with a cobra than give him her trust. And why should she trust him? He’d proven he had no control, just like she’d proven she had no heart.

The best thing for both of them would be to let the cell do the work and keep interaction between them to a minimum.

But as he resigned himself to never touching her again, something deep inside his bones howled in protest. That animal inside didn’t want to do the right thing. It wanted to pick her up, set her on the counter of the infirmary, and get back between her legs. It wanted to fuck until all the hate was gone and it could finally burst through the bars of its cage and be free.

That mindless creature insisted that sexing Harley out of his system was the only way to put the past behind him.

But that wasn’t going to happen. As soon as he had taken care of her wounds, found the medicine she needed, and given her something to eat and drink, they wouldn’t touch again until the day he let her out of her cell. And by that time, Jasper would already be safe at Clay’s house in Maryland. He would have his son and a second chance at life waiting for him across the sea and no reason to want to waste another second with the monster who got away.

He opened the door, letting Harley precede him into the darkened facility, keeping his gaze on her shoulders instead of the bare cheeks of her ass peeking out from beneath her shirt, ignoring the stirring in his shorts as his cock insisted he wasn’t finished with Harley.

Not by a long shot.

Chapter Eleven

Marlowe

Marlowe arrived at Harley’s seaside cottage three days before her sculptures were due, intending to deliver an invitation to expand their relationship in person. He had lost two of his best pilots—one to a crash over the Alps and another to a bullet between the eyes—and he needed someone he could trust to fly the next shipment into Russia.

But instead of his pretty artist with the clever hands and feline smile, he’d found empty rooms with the lights still on, a mess on the kitchen stove, and a shattered beer bottle on the patio overlooking the sea.

“There’s no sign of a break-in or a struggle, sir.” Liam came to stand beside him. “But I did find this.”

Marlowe reached out, taking a child’s drawing from his pilot’s meaty hand. It was a map of the house and the surrounding areas, with a trail drawn in crayon and an X to mark the spot where the treasure was buried. It was signed by the artist—Jasper Garrett.

Marlowe smiled. “Garrett? That’s her old alias.”

“It is,” Liam confirmed. “I told you she was hiding something.”

“You did,” Marlowe agreed mildly, never one to get angry with his staff for his own mistakes. “I should have listened. Any idea what might have become of her and the little one?”

“Not yet,” Liam said. “Give me some time. I should be able to turn up something. If one of our enemies took her, they’ll be in touch.”

“And if not, we’ll figure out where our girl has gone.” Marlowe handed the drawing back to Liam. “But before we go hunting, I want to see what the little man left behind.”

He and Liam located shovels in the shed and followed the crudely drawn map to a hollow in the sand at the base of a grassy dune. Ten minutes later they had unearthed sand toys, a red shovel, and a damp, sand-encrusted towel. Marlowe left the towel but instructed Liam to bring the toys and the shovel.

One never knew when treasure might come in handy.

A red shovel could flatten the skull of a rival who had dared to abduct one of his associates.

And a plastic bucket could be used to collect precious blood as it dripped from a little boy’s throat, teaching his mother a lesson about what happened to people who tried to leave Marlowe’s family.

There was no way out of the Raposa cartel, there was only dead.

Leaving the glass on the patio and the flies circling the fishy-smelling mess on the stove, Marlowe walked through the bungalow’s door to the waiting car, knowing he would find Harley sooner or later.

There was no question of if, only when.

Harley and Clay’s story continues in

Filthy Wicked Games, coming December 3, 2015.

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Sneak Peek

A Sneak Peek of Book Two

Filthy Wicked Games…

Warning: This book is rough and raw, sick and twisted, and hot enough to set your panties on fire. Read with caution (and spare panties).

Harley’s been through hell before, but she’s never met anyone as wickedly sexy as the man her ex has become. Clay is one twisted bastard. The only thing more twisted is the way her body ignites every time they touch.

She can’t say no.

He won’t say yes.

And both of them are determined to be declared the victor in the filthy, wicked game they play.

But sometimes even the sexiest games turn deadly, leaving innocent lives caught in the crossfire…

* *Filthy Wicked Games is the second installment in the Dirty Twisted Love romance series. It is a spin off of the Bought By the Billionaire series, but can be read as a standalone romance. This is a SERIAL story, with a CLIFFHANGER ending. If you don’t like being teased, steer clear.* *