Stolen Jewel by Alexis Abbott
Jewel
Istand in the walk-in closet, eyes wide and heart pounding like crazy. I anxiously tug down the hem of the floral sweater I found and try to smooth out the wrinkles in the long skirt while Stefan peers out the window. I find a pair of old boots in a women’s size close enough to mine, and pull them on my feet. That way, I’m prepared for anything. To hide, to run, whatever it takes. But who the hell could have possibly found us here? And so quickly?
I quietly ask him, “Business or pleasure?”
“Looks like business to me. It’s a police car,” he says. His tone is grim.
I’m already nervous, but seeing the shift in Stefan’s demeanor definitely puts me into high-alert mode. Just a moment ago, when we were standing in this closet together, I could almost swear I felt that familiar lust picking up again. I could feel his eyes on my nude body, drinking in the curves and slopes he’s already shown so much pleasure. He wanted me again. I could feel his desire for me radiating off of his body like heat waves. I had been trying to play it modest, just an innocent young woman glad to find ‘girl clothes’ to put on after a long stretch of being uncomfortable in Stefan’s way oversized hand-me-downs. It’s partly true. But there was also part of me, a deeper-buried, more subconscious part that wanted him to see me naked. I wanted to feel his shrewd dark eyes piercing through my body. Sizing me up and fantasizing about me while I innocently get dressed in conservative clothing. For a tense, delicious moment there I thought we might get to jump each other’s bones right here in the closet. After all, we are finally alone at last.
Or, well, we were. Until this jackass showed up to ruin everything. And now, Stefan has shifted from lustful lothario to vigilant fugitive. I watch him flat against the wall, his eyes squinting when he slowly tilts around the edge of the window pane. The gauzy white curtain falls around his face when he peers out to check again. From here, I can see him, but not the window. I hastily lace up the boots I put on and crouch down to creep out of the closet. I move just barely to the edge of the en suite bathroom where the pale green tile meets the creaky wood floorboards. Stefan looks over at me from his place by the window, and his eyes are sharp with warning. He gives me just the faintest shake of his head.
“Don’t come any closer,” he hisses.
He’s mutating into that dark version of himself right before my eyes. Gone is the softness in his dark eyes, the true affection in his voice. I can see his body tensing up as all the muscles tighten. He grits his teeth and glares out the edge of the window again. We both hear the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut, followed by the crunching of boots on dirt. The cop must be walking up already.
“Fuck,” Stefan swears under his breath.
“What do we do?” I ask him urgently.
“You don’t do anything,” he insists.
“Stefan, don’t cut me out,” I whisper.
I’m shaking all over, so much that it’s hard to keep my voice even. For some reason, I’m just as afraid right now as I was when that motorcycle guy was shooting at us. My heart is racing like crazy. It makes my chest ache with every anxious breath. The adrenaline starts to flow, and I’m itchy to do something, to make a move.
Stefan groans with displeasure when the cop keeps crunching up the driveway with his hands at his sides, under his coat. That alone makes me nervous. What is he guarding? What does he have under that coat?
“Stay put, I’ll take care of this,” Stefan growls suddenly.
I stand up, wide-eyed and worried. “Wait! Stefan, no.”
But he’s already striding out of the bedroom with a purpose and his hands clenched into fists. I make a move to run after him at first, but he disappears through the doorway before I can even get close. Besides, what am I going to do? Tackle him? He’s got a good foot and a few inches on me, not to mention his massive bulk of muscle versus my willowy, delicate frame. If Stefan sets his mind on something, it would take a damn tidal wave to push him back. He’s in possessive, protective mode right now, and I know that’s because of me. Plus, I can imagine a lifetime being influenced by the Bratva has made Stefan pretty unforgiving and untrusting when it comes to the police. I don’t blame him. I just hope he can restrain his inner grizzly bear well enough to not ignite an already tense showdown.
I listen to Stefan walk across the cabin, open the front door, and go strolling out into the fading afternoon golden glow. The sparkly sunlight glints off the melting snow in the yard as Stefan and the police officer walk toward each other. My heart is about to burst out and fly away, I’m so on edge. I decide I’m not close enough, so I rush to the window to watch the scene unfold. I can hear them, but all the noise is slightly muffled through the window. The cop parked far back from the cabin, and he’s walking with some definite caution, like he’s half-expecting a fight. That might not bode well for Stefan, who has the sharp dark eyes, hulking size, and commanding, Russian-tinged speaking voice of a movie villain. I wonder if the cop is some kind of city slicker far out of dodge, chasing down a fugitive across state lines. And if Stefan’s a fugitive, does that make me an accessory? Or just a victim? I always thought the law was simple enough, black and white enough, to satisfy the whole world’s morality. But I see now through the lens of a layperson, of someone entrenched in crime rather than just studying it in a lofty academic library, and it looks different from here. The bad guys aren’t always bad, and the good guys definitely aren’t always good.
The police office strolls up to stop about ten feet away from Stefan, then he holds up one palm to halt him, too. I can positively sense Stefan bristling at this punk-ass cop telling him what to do. The cop is a tall, gangly man with a slight paunch around his waist. He has thinning reddish hair and a close-trimmed ginger beard. He walks with a sort of swaggering limp, and I almost have to giggle at how ridiculous he looks wearing his sunglasses while the sun is clearly going down. The light isn’t anywhere bright enough to require shades at the moment, but I have a feeling the guy thinks he just looks cooler that way. He’s wrong.
By comparison, Stefan looks even more like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. His enormous size and imposing demeanor make the cop a little nervous.
“Whoa, there,” the cop says as he gestures for Stefan to freeze.
Stefan slowly raises his hands in a symbol of truce.
“Evening, Officer. What can I do for you?” he calls out gruffly.
“Stay right where you are, buddy. We can talk just fine from here,” the cop insists.
Stefan shrugs. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well… good,” the cop stammers. “Not lookin’ for trouble tonight, sir, but I’m the local sheriff around here and it’s my job to follow up on things.”
“Understood. What are you following up on here?” Stefan asks pointedly.
I wince a little. His vibe is a little aggressive, and his Russian accent is coming through more clearly than usual. I wonder if I just don’t usually notice it. But right now, compared to the sheriff’s genteel drawl, Stefan sounds like a spy movie assassin. That country cop tilts his head a little and squints, like he’s trying to figure Stefan out. Not good.
“Well, I’ve been patrolling this neck of the woods for about a decade now, and usually nobody comes all the way up here,” the sheriff explains, hands on his hips. “People live real spread out around the mountains and down the valley, so there’s a lot of land to cover. But I make it my business to know all the uninhabited properties and keep an eye on ‘em.”
“How close an eye?” Stefan questions sharply.
“Oh, Stefan. No,” I mutter to myself.
The sheriff raises one wiry red eyebrow. “Close enough to watch out for squatters and vandals. Opportunists who think they can blow through my district and just set up camp wherever they damn well please,” he retorts.
“Who told you anyone was here?” Stefan asks.
My heart sinks. This is not going well. Stefan is too defensive, too intense. The cop is getting more and more suspicious of him by the second.
The cop takes another step closer. “Now, sir, let’s get a couple things straight real quick. First off, you don’t ask the questions. I do. Second of all, I don’t owe you my informants’ information. People around here trust me to look after life and land, and that’s what I do. I heard there was a car goin’ up the mountain to the lake, and I thought it might be hooligans,” he says.
“Hooligans?” Stefan repeats, and this time his Russian accent is so clear it makes me go pale. He’s been doing his best to hide his true way of speaking, but it slips through, especially when he’s angry. Some people still probably wouldn’t notice. But this sheriff is obviously used to running a very small, insular community. Everybody knows everybody else, and outsiders are very easy to spot right off the bat.
The cop glares at him suspiciously and his demeanor shifts with his stance. He’s got one hand sliding under the bottom hem of his coat, around to the back of his work pants. I swallow hard, realizing he’s reaching for his firearm. This simple conversation between two guys is quickly escalating into a dangerous situation. Right now, Stefan is unarmed. The sheriff showed up too suddenly for us to prepare, and now his life is in jeopardy because of a misunderstanding.
All at once, a million different emotions and impulses strike me like a ton of bricks to the face. Time slows down as I try to sort out my thoughts. I’m experiencing a split of conscience.
One option occurs to me from the fog: that this could be my perfect chance for escape. At the start of my captivity, I would have done anything to encounter a police officer. I would have immediately rushed to the other side, let the cop arrest Stefan and take me safely back to my real life. I have that opportunity now, too. It’s been several days, but a tiny part of me reminds me that’s not very long at all in the grand scheme of things. How could my feelings about Stefan have altered so dramatically in such a short amount of time? Is it right for me to trust him, to want him like I do? Or is it just another side effect of whatever Stockholm Syndrome bullshit is driving my actions? I recall with a twinge of pain what our first encounter felt like. I was so scared of Stefan. I hated him. He ripped me from my life, kidnapped me, and put me in a basement prison cell, chained to a crappy bed. That makes him a bad guy, right?
My father is an ICE agent, a man who taught me that success belongs to the good guys, and the bad guys deserve harsh punishment. He taught me a very black-and-white dichotomy between good and evil: cops and agents like Dad were on the ‘good’ side, while lifelong criminals like Stefan were on the ‘bad’ side. Stefan himself has even admitted to doing very bad things for a long time. Sure, he broke his mission to save me, but how many lives did he take before he ever met me? And who’s to say for certain he won’t eventually kill me, too? I mean, hell, we’re already on the run together. How long can that last? And when we’re finally backed into a corner-- kind of like this-- what will he do? Will he still defend and protect me? Or will I become just another unfortunate casualty of his lifestyle?
“I hope you’re not lookin’ for any trouble today, sir,” the cop warns Stefan.
“Not looking, but you never know what you will find,” Stefan remarks.
Alarm bells are ringing in my head. Some tiny, soft-spoken part of me suggests that I should save myself. I should run out there and throw Stefan under the bus, tell the cop everything, and let him send me back home. I can’t ignore the bare-faced facts: Stefan is at best a kidnapper, at worst a murderer. That makes him a ‘bad guy’ in the simplistic idea of justice Dad taught me growing up. There’s not a lot of nuance in the world of law and order.
Then again, if there’s anything my time with Stefan has taught me, it’s that life is more complicated than that. Things change. People change. But only when they’re up against a wall, when they find the one reason worthy of changing for. And people are so much more complex, deeper than I used to think. Even the ones who put up such an impressive, seemingly impenetrable facade, like Stefan. Yes, the first version of him I met was so scary, but now I have come to see him not as a captor, but a protector. Someone on my side. After all, he broke every rule for me. If he was truly selfish, truly evil, he would have ‘eliminated’ me when he had the chance. And God knows I’ve given him a thousand opportunities. Instead, he repeatedly puts his own life at risk to save mine.
That’s not even to mention the undeniable, irresistible connection growing between us, both physically and emotionally. I could never turn on him even if I wanted to.
Besides, if I were to give up now and go running to that policeman for safety, I would never get the answers I seek. I want to know the truth of my father’s connection to all this mess. Clearly, I’ve been living under a rock this whole time. I didn’t even know men like Stefan existed outside of action movies and romance novels. The black and white way of seeing the world I used to hold has changed, and I can never go back. I can’t even trust my own father anymore. I’m changed, irrevocably. My investigative instincts won’t let me walk away from this any more than my feelings for Stefan will. The lawyer part of me I need answers, and if Stefan gets taken in, the whole thing falls apart.
And the pang of protective worry that comes over me when I imagine that sheriff putting Stefan in handcuffs tells me I can’t let that happen. He’s protected me against all orders, and it’s up to me to return the favor now.
So when I see the cop take another step, and Stefan does the same, I know I can’t wait any longer to make my move. This could come to blows and blood any second now. I take a deep breath and comb my fingers quickly through my messy hair to make myself look less like a sleep-deprived captive and more like a happy camper. I smooth down my moth-eaten stolen clothing and speed-walk across the house to the front door. My heart is thumping painfully in my ribcage as I step out onto the porch. Cold, forest-scented air gusts in my face. It’s time for me to do a little acting. My role: Stefan’s beguiling American girlfriend here to smooth things over and prove we’re just here on a little vacay from the city. Nothing to worry about here.
The sheriff and Stefan notice me at the same time. Stefan turns and does a double take, his dark eyes smoldering at the sight of me. I can’t quite tell if he’s angry or relieved to see me, but either way, I’m here now. The sheriff, on the other hand, looks quite pleased to see me standing here. His pale eyes rove hungrily up and down my willowy, curvy frame. I plaster a big smile on my face and twirl a lock of hair around my finger absentmindedly as I approach them.
Truth be told, I’m used to his type. When I was growing up, Dad used to always bring around his snooty, borderline-pervy good ole boy pals. One of his favorite things to do when they came over was to show me off. He would call me downstairs and make me do little spins and twirls, say my how-do-you-dos to an endless number of middle-aged womanizers who cheated on their wives with women young enough to be their granddaughters. Like me. It suddenly dawns on me how gross it was for Dad to show off his beautiful, virginal, off-limits (wink-wink) daughter to his ghoulish friends, but that’s a problem for another time.
Right now, I just have to do whatever it takes to defuse the situation and save Stefan.
“Hi there, Officer!” I call out in my sweetest, peachiest voice.
I give him a big goofy wave as I daintily hop down from the porch. Stefan is frozen in place as I start strolling up next to him. The cop is transfixed on me now, just as I planned. His cheeks are turning pink, and I can tell he feels a little bashful. He probably doesn’t get to talk to many pretty young women out here on his daily routes. He was probably expecting some rough-edged old geezer with a rifle and an attitude to come charging out of the cabin. But he seems to melt a little bit for me. His shoulders relax, and he lets the hand on his gun drop to his side. I feel a rush of temporary relief.
“How are you doing tonight?” I ask him cheerily.
“I’m just fine, thank you, Miss. How’re you?” the sheriff asks.
“Fantastic, but a little tired. My boyfriend and I have been driving all day long to get here before dark,” I tell him.
“Your boyfriend?” he repeats, giving Stefan another dubious glare.
I link arms with Stefan and lean into his shoulder with a smile.
“Mhm. He’s a great driver, but boy! These country roads sure make you pay attention, don’t they? Especially this time of year,” I ramble on.
“So you are from out of town,” he clarifies.
“You guessed it. Although, I bet being the sheriff, you probably know just about everybody out here, so you must’ve known right off the bat,” I remark, still smiling.
“Can’t be too careful these days,” he replies.
“Hey, can’t argue with you there,” I answer good-naturedly. “Anyway, we’re just staying for a little vacation. You know, a getaway from the big city.”
“Oh yeah, I get that,” he says, grinning. “Way better in the boonies.”
“Totally. I told him, I said, ‘if we don’t get out of this dang city soon, I’m gonna explode’ so here we are. It’ll be so nice to get fresh air and listen to the birds,” I sigh.
“Well, little lady, you sure came to the right spot,” the sheriff beams. He’s clearly very proud of his neck of the woods, and I’m playing right into that.
“Like my girlfriend says, we’re very tired. It’s been a long day,” Stefan speaks up. He slides an arm around my shoulders, holding me tight.
“Mhm. Yep. We’re totally exhausted from all that driving and, uh, bird-watching we did along the way. Can’t wait to get a good night’s sleep!” I jump in.
The cop looks back and forth between us, thinking it over. Then he simply grins, shrugs, and waves. “Alrighty, then. You kids have a good stay, and remember to respect Mother Nature while you’re out here,” he says, waggling one finger at us as he wobbles back to his car.
Stefan and I stand here waving, afraid to let our facade drop for a second. We watch the cop car roll away down the drive and disappear into the darkness. As soon as he’s gone, Stefan pulls his arm back and whips around to gaze at me with those fiery eyes blazing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands.
I blink rapidly in surprise. “Excuse me?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Jumping in like that? Unplanned?”
“Um, from where I’m standing, it looks like I just saved our asses,” I retort.
“It may have worked this time, but we got lucky. You didn’t even consider the risks involved in bursting out the door like that?” he scolds me.
My cheeks burn with indignation. I put my hands on my hips.
“Of course I considered the risks! Did you? Stefan, that cop was packing heat, and you came out here unarmed,” I point out.
He leans in closer. “I was handling it,” he growls.
“You needed me, Stefan, whether you want to admit it or not,” I snap.
“That’s not the problem,” he quips.
The sun is sinking down all around us. The world is descending into darkness as the forest comes alive with nocturnal noises. Stefan and I are at a stand-off, face to face, breathing out puffs of air in the cold night.
“I’m not just your damsel in distress. I saved our cover. I’m a part of this team,” I insist.
“Don’t you understand? I’m doing all of this to protect you, Jewel. Nothing is worth the risk of losing you. I would rather show up unarmed to a gunfight than watch you jump in front of a bullet to save me,” he snarls, his face almost touching mine.
“And I’d rather take that bullet than watch you die for me,” I hurl back.
Stefan looms over me, anger and hurt in his eyes. I glare up at him with the same fierce energy. Neither of us is willing to back down. Again, we’re at an impasse. And again, that intense fire between us stokes the mood from fury to lust.
Stefan grabs my face with both hands and kisses me hard. I moan into his mouth, pressing my whole body flush against his. I can already feel his cock filling out, getting hard against my hip. I put my arms around his neck as he kisses me, and his strong hands grab underneath my ass to scoop me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me back to the porch. He takes the steps in one long, easy stride, and pushes back into the cabin. Warm air rushes over us both, adding to the fire. Stefan walks me to the wall of the living room, pinning me between the wall and his powerful body. He kisses me deeply, his hands roving up and down my body as he holds me up against the wall. Suddenly, I’m desperate to touch him underneath his clothes. I need to feel his skin on mine, and the feeling is mutual.
Stefan hikes up my long skirt while I fumble to tug down his pants and boxers, just enough for his stiff cock to bounce free. I lick my lips and roll my eyes back in my head as Stefan’s lips travel down my throat. He pushes up my sweater to flick his tongue over my perky nipples. I moan and shudder in his arms. My pussy is getting so wet already, I can hardly wait for him to fill me up again. I rock against him and claw at his back with my fingernails, lifting up his shirt to get at bare flesh. His cock slides up and down along my dewy flower, bare underneath the long skirt. My slick juices drip down my thighs and soak his cock, which only makes it easier for him to tease my achy hole with the thick head of his shaft.
“Are you ready for me, printsessa?” Stefan rumbles.
“Give it to me,” I whisper ferociously.
He doesn’t hold back. Still bracing me against the wall, he slides his hard cock inside me inch by inch, and I take him all the way down. I cry out as my mind goes bright with wild sensations. Stefan holds me in place while he bucks his hips. I keep my legs tight around his waist as he fucks me deep and hard. My pussy twinges and clenches around his thickness. His lips travel up to my ear. His soft breath gives me goosebumps and makes me shiver.
“Don’t you dare put yourself in danger like that again,” he hisses in my ear.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I bite back.
I know I’m being a brat, but I can’t help it. Besides, every time I say something naughty, it makes Stefan fuck me harder. How can I be good when I receive such a delicious reward for being bad? When he leans in to kiss me again, I gently bite his bottom lip. He lets out a low growl and presses his hand to my throat. I lick my lips and moan with delight when he applies gentle pressure to the sides of my neck. He knows just how to tease me, how to make me feel submissive and powerless without scaring me. He holds my throat while his cock pounds deeper into my gushing cunny. I’m so wet, every thrust slides in and out of me with perfect ease. The tip of his cock slams into my g-spot with nearly every other push, and I’m starting to see stars.
“Oh fuck, it feels good,” I pant.
“Don’t come until I say so,” Stefan commands. His hips snap back and forth faster as he fucks me, and he’s starting to lose control.
I pout, making a pitiful little choking sound when he presses harder on my throat.
“Please, I’m so close,” I whimper.
“Not yet, malyshka. You’ll come when I allow it,” he snarls.
I’m trying so hard to hold back, but it feels so damn good. His cock pounds my g-spot while the friction of his pelvis on my clit makes me tingly all over. Add to that the thrill of being totally dominated, totally owned by this powerful, sexy man, and how can he possibly expect me to have self-control? My pussy is tensing, my clit burning for a release.
“Oh my god,” I whine. “Stefan!”
He’s stiffening up, too, his pace speeding up until he’s railing my cunny. I’m loose and limp in his arms as he pounds into me again and again.
“Come for me, Jewel. Right now. Come all over this cock,” he demands.
“Ohhh Stefan!” I cry out.
My cunny is obedient. I come in a hot gush of sweet juices, drenching us both as his cock pummels into me with abandon. While I’m still dripping and twitching from climax, I feel Stefan’s cock spurt his seed deep, deep inside of me. He groans through gritted teeth and rocks his hips to empty every last precious drop in my womb. Stefan kisses me and strokes my face as I come down from the rush.
When he finally withdraws, he lets me gently slide down the wall out of his arms. I’m limp and gasping as the weight of the day and our near-miss encounter with the law hits me hard. He has to basically catch me before I crumple to the floor. Luckily, Stefan is strong enough for the both of us. He scoops me up damsel-style and carries me off down the hallway to the bedroom. Stefan deposits me in the big, cozy bed, where I sprawl out like a starfish.
“Stay here,” he says.
“Where are you going now?” I ask, popping up.
He gives me a tired smile. “The kitchen, malyshka. I’m going to make us some dinner.”
“Oh. Well, that’s fine, then,” I answer, settling down.
He stops in the doorway and looks back at me, smirking. “Mind if I go in there unarmed?” he teases.
I roll my eyes even though I can’t fight a smile. “Unless you think the kitchen cutlery might rise up against you, I think you’re good,” I report to him.
“Good call. Get some rest, I’ll bring you dinner shortly,” Stefan says.
“Okay. I’ll be right here,” I sigh as I flop back into the pillows.
The rest of the evening is as peaceful and soft as anything I’ve dreamed of. I listen to the wind blow, the insects hum, and watch the tiny flurries of snow past the window. Stefan builds a crackling fire in the fireplace, which quickly helps warm up the whole cabin. He whips up some kind of hearty stew using whatever he found in that old pantry, as well as a lucky bottle of unopened red wine. We sit on the bed together and eat, sip wine, and enjoy the first truly quiet moment we’ve gotten together. We’re both exhausted, and it doesn’t take long for us to drift off to sleep together.
But my peace is short-lived. In the middle of the night, I wake up from a frantic dream. The details are already fading as I blink in the darkness. I roll over in bed and reach for Stefan, but my heart sinks when my fingers find only a cold, empty place where he once lay.
Where the hell is Stefan?