Page 46 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
Another whimper. He’d seen men die, had murdered plenty, been through more pain than most. But this sound? This was killing him.
“Come back to me, little thief.”
Her eyes snapped open, wild with terror, and for a brief moment, he saw everything she’d hidden behind that confident façade. Then the fear was replaced with fury.
“You bastard,” she snarled. “You left.”
There. Anger was easier than vulnerability with this woman; he could work with it.
He shoved down the softness that had crept in moments before. “What’s wrong?” He smirked. “Don’t like being abandoned? Hurts, doesn’t it?”
She yanked at the cuffs, the metal clanking against the bed frame. “Very clever. Point made. Now unlock these before I kick your teeth in.”
“Hm. No, I don’t think I will. Not yet, anyway.”
Callahan dug in his trouser pockets and fished out his pre-rolled smokes and a book of lucifers. He took his sweet time lighting up and brought the cigarette to his lips.
“Maybe I like you this way,” he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “You paint quite the picture. Would take a stronger man than I to resist savouring it.”
Isabel’s upper lip curled in a silent snarl. “What next? Some vulgar comment about my mouth and what you’d like to do with it?”
Callahan’s eyes narrowed. He lunged forward, one hand braced beside her head on the mattress.
Isabel went still beneath him, her cheeks pinkening.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? If I fucked that infuriating mouth until you choked on my cock.”
That flush swept down her throat. “Would you? Use me so ruthlessly?”
Callahan let his gaze wander down her body. The curve of her breasts, the taut stomach with its silvery scars and bandage, the way her chest rose and fell faster.
“Would you want me to?” he asked.
Her teeth scraped her lower lip, and he nearly groaned. It was so easy for her to make him forget all the reasons he shouldn’t touch her. Want her.
“Uncuff me, and you can use me however you want.”
Even naked and chained, she was negotiating. Trying to gain the upper hand. It was what made her dangerous.
“Business first,” he said.
Callahan pushed off the bed. He took another deep drag of his cigarette, using the precious seconds to regain his composure. To tamp down the urge to pin her to the mattress and see that smart mouth take his cock.
“The Home Office needs intelligence,” he said. “On Favreau and the Syndicate at large. We had a man on the inside of their Moscow arm before he got burned. Used a sanctioned hit as an exit strategy and promptly fucked off to retirement. We’ve been fumbling blind ever since.”
He snagged the chair from the corner and straddled it backwards. “Let’s start with the basics. How does Favreau run his operation?”
The ship rolled with a large wave. Rain pattered against the porthole window.
Finally, she spoke. “His inner circle is hand-picked young, and groomed for absolute loyalty.” The metal cuffs clinked as she shifted. “The desperate ones are his favourites.”
“Orphans?” he asked, thinking of Whelan and his collection of street children.
“No,” she surprised him by saying. “He prefers those with family.”
Isabel’s gaze drifted to the window, watching the dark water slide past the glass. “When you’re alone, you have nothing to lose. But family? Family can be used against you.”
Callahan’s grip tightened on the chair’s back.
