“No.” I laugh softly. “Not even close. It’s your government, my pet. They put in an order so large, it will keep my factories busy for years.”
“Oh, I see.” Initially she appears relieved, but then a puzzled frown creases her smooth forehead. “So legitimate governments buy things from you too? I thought the US military developed their own weapons . . .”
“They do.” I grin at her naïveté. “But they would never pass up a chance to get their hands on something like this. And the more they buy, the less I can sell to others. It’s an arrangement that works well for everyone.”
“But why don’t they just take it from you by force? Or simply shut down your factories?” She stares at me in confusion. “In general, if they know of your existence, why do they allow you to produce illegal weapons?”
“Because if I didn’t do it, somebody else would—and that person might not be nearly as rational and pragmatic as I am.” I can see the disbelieving look on Nora’s face, and my grin widens. “Yes, my pet, believe it or not, the US government would rather deal with me, who bears America no particular ill will, than to have someone like Majid in charge of a similar operation.”
“Majid?”
“The motherfucker who killed Beth.” My voice hardens, my amusement disappearing without a trace. “The one responsible for stealing you at the clinic.”
Nora tenses at the mention of Beth, and I see her hands balling into fists again. “The Suit—that’s what I called him in my mind,” she murmurs, her gaze appearing distant for a moment. “Because he was wearing a suit, you see . . .” She blinks, then focuses her attention on me again. “That was Majid?”
I nod, keeping my expression impassive despite the rage churning inside me. “Yes. That was him.”
“I wish he hadn’t died in the explosion,” she says, surprising me for a moment. Her eyes glitter darkly in the sunlight. “He didn’t deserve such an easy death.”
“No, he didn’t,” I agree, now comprehending her meaning. Like me, she wishes that Majid had suffered. She hungers for revenge; I can hear it in her voice, see it on her face. It makes me wonder what would happen if she somehow ended up with Majid at her mercy. Would she be able to truly hurt him? To inflict such pain that he would beg for death?
It’s an idea I find more than a little intriguing.
“Did you ever bring Beth here?” she asks, interrupting that train of thought. “To this compound, I mean?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Before she came to stay on the island, Beth traveled with me, and I didn’t come here for a long time.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t my favorite place, I guess,” I say casually, ignoring the dark memories that flood my mind at her innocent question. The estate was where I’d spent most of my childhood, where my father’s belt and fists reigned supreme until I was old enough to fight back. It was where I killed my first man—and where I came to retrieve my mother’s bloodied corpse twelve years ago. It wasn’t until I renovated the house completely that I could stand the thought of coming to live here again, and even then, it’s only Nora’s presence that makes it bearable for me to be here.
She places her hand on my knee, bringing me back to the present. “Julian . . .” She pauses for a moment, as though unsure whether to proceed. Then she apparently decides to forge ahead. “There’s something I would like to ask you,” she says quietly, but firmly.
I lift my eyebrows. “What is it, my pet?”
“I took lessons back home,” she says, her hand unconsciously tightening on my knee. “Self-defense and shooting, that sort of thing . . . and I’d like to resume them here, if possible.”
“I see.” A smile curves my mouth. My earlier speculations had been right, it seems. She’s not the same frightened, helpless girl I brought to the island. This Nora is stronger, more resilient . . . and even more appealing. I remember reading about her lessons in Lucas’s report, so her request is not totally unexpected. “You would like me to train you how to fight and use weapons?”
She nods. “Yes. Or maybe have someone else teach me, if you’re busy.”
“No.” The thought of any one of my men laying his hands on her, even in a teaching capacity, makes me see red. “I will teach you myself.”
* * *
I decide to start Nora’s training that afternoon, after I catch up on a few business emails. For some reason, I like the idea of teaching her self-defense. I don’t intend for her to ever be in a dangerous situation again, but I still want her to know how to protect herself if the need arises.
The irony of what I’m doing doesn’t escape me. Most people would say I’m the one she needs protection from, and they would probably be right. I don’t give a fuck, though. Nora is mine now, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if it involves teaching her how to kill someone like me.
When I’m done with my emails, I go searching for her back at the house. This time I find her in the house gym, running on the treadmill at full speed. Judging by the sweat trickling down her slender back, she’s been going at this pace for a while.
Making sure not to startle her, I come up to her from the side.
Spotting me, she reduces the speed on the treadmill, slowing down to a jog. “Hi,” she says breathlessly, reaching for a small towel to wipe her face. “Is it time for the training?”
“Oh, I see.” Initially she appears relieved, but then a puzzled frown creases her smooth forehead. “So legitimate governments buy things from you too? I thought the US military developed their own weapons . . .”
“They do.” I grin at her naïveté. “But they would never pass up a chance to get their hands on something like this. And the more they buy, the less I can sell to others. It’s an arrangement that works well for everyone.”
“But why don’t they just take it from you by force? Or simply shut down your factories?” She stares at me in confusion. “In general, if they know of your existence, why do they allow you to produce illegal weapons?”
“Because if I didn’t do it, somebody else would—and that person might not be nearly as rational and pragmatic as I am.” I can see the disbelieving look on Nora’s face, and my grin widens. “Yes, my pet, believe it or not, the US government would rather deal with me, who bears America no particular ill will, than to have someone like Majid in charge of a similar operation.”
“Majid?”
“The motherfucker who killed Beth.” My voice hardens, my amusement disappearing without a trace. “The one responsible for stealing you at the clinic.”
Nora tenses at the mention of Beth, and I see her hands balling into fists again. “The Suit—that’s what I called him in my mind,” she murmurs, her gaze appearing distant for a moment. “Because he was wearing a suit, you see . . .” She blinks, then focuses her attention on me again. “That was Majid?”
I nod, keeping my expression impassive despite the rage churning inside me. “Yes. That was him.”
“I wish he hadn’t died in the explosion,” she says, surprising me for a moment. Her eyes glitter darkly in the sunlight. “He didn’t deserve such an easy death.”
“No, he didn’t,” I agree, now comprehending her meaning. Like me, she wishes that Majid had suffered. She hungers for revenge; I can hear it in her voice, see it on her face. It makes me wonder what would happen if she somehow ended up with Majid at her mercy. Would she be able to truly hurt him? To inflict such pain that he would beg for death?
It’s an idea I find more than a little intriguing.
“Did you ever bring Beth here?” she asks, interrupting that train of thought. “To this compound, I mean?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Before she came to stay on the island, Beth traveled with me, and I didn’t come here for a long time.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t my favorite place, I guess,” I say casually, ignoring the dark memories that flood my mind at her innocent question. The estate was where I’d spent most of my childhood, where my father’s belt and fists reigned supreme until I was old enough to fight back. It was where I killed my first man—and where I came to retrieve my mother’s bloodied corpse twelve years ago. It wasn’t until I renovated the house completely that I could stand the thought of coming to live here again, and even then, it’s only Nora’s presence that makes it bearable for me to be here.
She places her hand on my knee, bringing me back to the present. “Julian . . .” She pauses for a moment, as though unsure whether to proceed. Then she apparently decides to forge ahead. “There’s something I would like to ask you,” she says quietly, but firmly.
I lift my eyebrows. “What is it, my pet?”
“I took lessons back home,” she says, her hand unconsciously tightening on my knee. “Self-defense and shooting, that sort of thing . . . and I’d like to resume them here, if possible.”
“I see.” A smile curves my mouth. My earlier speculations had been right, it seems. She’s not the same frightened, helpless girl I brought to the island. This Nora is stronger, more resilient . . . and even more appealing. I remember reading about her lessons in Lucas’s report, so her request is not totally unexpected. “You would like me to train you how to fight and use weapons?”
She nods. “Yes. Or maybe have someone else teach me, if you’re busy.”
“No.” The thought of any one of my men laying his hands on her, even in a teaching capacity, makes me see red. “I will teach you myself.”
* * *
I decide to start Nora’s training that afternoon, after I catch up on a few business emails. For some reason, I like the idea of teaching her self-defense. I don’t intend for her to ever be in a dangerous situation again, but I still want her to know how to protect herself if the need arises.
The irony of what I’m doing doesn’t escape me. Most people would say I’m the one she needs protection from, and they would probably be right. I don’t give a fuck, though. Nora is mine now, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if it involves teaching her how to kill someone like me.
When I’m done with my emails, I go searching for her back at the house. This time I find her in the house gym, running on the treadmill at full speed. Judging by the sweat trickling down her slender back, she’s been going at this pace for a while.
Making sure not to startle her, I come up to her from the side.
Spotting me, she reduces the speed on the treadmill, slowing down to a jog. “Hi,” she says breathlessly, reaching for a small towel to wipe her face. “Is it time for the training?”
