Taming His Wild Girl by Lee Savino

Chapter 14

Joel

My cop buddies Dave and Trey were wearing identical serious expressions. They were two of my oldest buddies—we’d grown up together, riding horses, playing ball, and occasionally raising hell. Then they’d gone to the Mountie academy, like their daddies, and I’d taken over the ranch.

They didn’t know a whole lot about my darker proclivities, but I didn’t hide anything else from them.

When I mentioned Isabelle’s name, Trey butted in.

“Wait—that was the girl you used to like?” He broke into a slow smile and jabbed a finger at me. “I remember. You said she was the one, but she was way too young. You had this plan to wait till she was all grown up, then you were gonna go find her. Surprise her at the end of Swan Lake with a bunch of flowers or some shit.”

Good old Trey, sensitive as ever.

I told them the whole story of Isabelle’s family tragedy, and everything she’d been through in the past few years, until she wound up enslaved by the Albanian mafia.

“Shit, that’s bad news,” Dave said. “They’re a vicious bunch of thugs.”

“So you’re aware of them?”

He nodded. “They’re out of our jurisdiction, but believe me, all the forces in BC have them on their radar. They crawled over from Seattle when they were getting too much heat from the cops there, and they’re spreading into these small towns, little by little. That’s what they do. They set up these legit—sleazy but legit—businesses. Keep their books clean. They’re not as dumb as they look. But they’re real brutal. They make the Italians and Russians look like kindergarteners stealing cookies.”

I worked my jaw back and forth. “From some of the stuff Isabelle’s been telling me, that doesn’t surprise me.”

Dave leaned closer, fixing me with his shrewd expression. “We’ve been looking for a case we can build against them for a long time. Get a bunch of them behind bars, and the rest of them out of BC, once and for all. But we’ve never had the ammunition. This could be it, though. You think she’d be willing to testify against them?”

I frowned. “Wouldn’t that be dangerous for her? I’ve heard mafia snitches don’t have good outcomes.”

“She could testify anonymously.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to put her in any danger, period. Don’t want her spending the rest of her life in witness protection or anything like that. The girl’s been through more than enough.”

Dave cracked his knuckles. “That’s all way down the line, anyway. Imagine how many other girls they’ve enslaved over the years. If she’ll just give us some information, off the record, it could go a long way to getting a search warrant at least—”

“I’ll speak to her about it,” I cut him off, wanting to focus on the most important thing right now. “But how can I make sure they’re off her back right now?”

“You could get a restraining order,” Trey said.

I shot a look at Dave.

He nodded. “That’s a good idea. It’ll demonstrate to them that if anything were to happen to Isabelle, they’ll automatically become suspect number one.”

I exhaled slowly. “Okay. Makes sense.”

Ten minutes later, the order was filled out, and we were fixing plans to go for beers next week so they could meet Isabelle.

Dave slung an arm around my shoulders. “I’m happy you’re married, man. But I sure wish I’d been invited to your wedding. I’ve been planning my best man speech since we were this high.”

I snorted. “What makes you think I’d pick you, anyway?”

Dave rolled his eyes toward Trey. “You were gonna pick him?”

Trey scowled. “Fuck you. I’d do a good job.”

I grinned. It was always the same when the three of us got together. Like we were all fifteen again, constantly busting each other’s balls.

“I’ll give Isabelle a real wedding someday,” I said. “Then you can both be best man. So there’ll be half the chance you’ll screw up.”

I felt a little lighter as I bounded down the steps of the policing office.

I’d made Isabelle my legal wife. I’d told the mob to go screw themselves. And now I’d gotten a restraining order against them as well.

We were in the clear. And her trust fund was safe.

That didn’t mean things were going to be easy from now on. Isabelle Stevens was a ton more complicated than I’d understood at first. Even more broken and edgy.

When we played together, everything was perfect. Collaring her had been a stroke of genius. The moment I’d slipped it around her neck, I’d sensed her turn soft and pliant—before she even understood what it meant. She’d slipped right into subspace.

But the rest of the time, she was as withdrawn as ever.

She’d seemed to open up to me, back in Shelbrook. A tightly-folded bud finally unfurling. But this morning, when I’d woken her up with a kiss, she’d been all closed in again. All monosyllabic and tense.

Hot-cold, hot-cold. It was more than a guy like me was used to.

But I wasn’t about to give up on her.

Not a chance in hell.

If she only opened up to me when I made her submit, hell, I’d fuck her senseless day and night. My cock responded instantly, standing to attention. I smiled to myself. She had such a capacity for pleasure and pain. Such a need for my cock. I’d never met a girl like her before. She truly was the kinky partner I’d always dreamed of.

I looked for her as I pulled into the yard. I’d left her watering the rows of shrubs along the walkways. She didn’t know that I’d been to see the cops. I wanted to see what the guys thought about the situation first. But I’d tell her about it, I decided. Hopefully it would smooth the worry out of that tense little forehead of hers.

* * *

Isabelle

You owe me something tinkerbel.

I opened the message and read the ugly words again and again. I wanted to block the number, but that would be dumb. I needed to be able to communicate with them.

Yesterday, I’d somehow hoped I could ignore them. I’d convinced myself it was just an empty threat.

Joel said he’d protect me. And I’d believed him.

For a few beautiful hours yesterday evening, I’d given up my control to him, begged him for everything he had. And I had loved it all.

Every rough moment. Each stroke of his hand, his whips, his cock.

I’d lost myself. Forgotten myself.

But now, the fear was back.

Of course they aren’t going to quit.

I yanked my phone out of my pocket and swiped to the message.

I typed fast with trembling fingers:

How much do you want to leave me alone?

I hit send. I locked the screen, but instead of shoving it back in my pocket, I stood paralyzed, staring at it.

Three minutes passed.

Ping!it went. You think 600k means shit to me?

“Huh?” I muttered.

Ping!Another message: I want u tinkerbel. Its always been about u.

“What?” My stomach churned.

I replied: I don’t understand??? I can give you all the money I have.

Ping! My perfect little balerina. I’m gona take you home to meet my family. Prove to everyone I can get a nice girl. Real American dream.

I started shaking so hard, I dropped the phone. I grabbed it and slumped down in the dirt on my ass.

I had to sound calm and sensible. I took a deep breath in and out.

I already have a husband.

Ping! went the alert again.

The screen filled with a photo of Joel. Sitting in his truck. As sexy and confident as ever, but his jaw was set, and there was a strange intensity in his eyes that almost scared me. Was it a selfie? It didn’t look like the kind of photo you took for fun.

Ping! He’s a dead man.

Bile rose in my throat.

Ping! Your choice. You or him.

I retched, and threw up a little in my mouth. I clamped my hand over my mouth and swallowed hard, gasping for air.

Where the fuck had they gotten that photo from? They must have been following him. My roommate must have screwed me over.

I was sickened at how naïve I’d been.

Joel might be the strongest, smartest guy I’d met, but the thugs at the club fought dirty. They didn’t care that he was my husband. That the money was gone. They were going to kill him anyway.

In revenge.

Of course they were.

I couldn’t let that happen.

It was all my fault.

I had to fix this.

I dumped the watering can in the toolshed and hurried to the house, back to the small bedroom where I used to sleep.

I hauled my suitcase out of the closet, and began stuffing some clothes into it.

There was a sound of heavy feet behind me. “There you are—”

I whirled around, heart pounding. And my stomach flipped at the dismay in Joel’s face.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m going to go stay with a friend for a few days.” Every word killed me, but I forced them out. It was the only way.

“What? Why?”

“Sh-she’s been having a hard time. I need to support her.”

His look of angry incomprehension eased a notch. He frowned. “Okay, I can take you there.”

“N-no, she lives in Vancouver. I’ll take the bus.”

He blinked. “I don’t mind. We were going to spend a couple of days there anyways.”

“No, Joel,” I snapped, way too loud.

As confusion crossed his face, I summoned every bit of coldness in my soul and straightened up. “I need some time to myself, too.”

“But why? I thought we were—”

“This wedding—it all happened too soon. I can’t take it. I need some space.” I stomped across the room, like a spoiled brat. “You think this is the life for me? Ending up here? At this fucking… fucking ranch?”

“Language—”

“Shut up,” I shouted. “Just shut up.” I closed my eyes, but all I could see was the picture of Joel. My beautiful savior. They’d kill him.

Joel caught my arm. “Careful.” He was wearing his dom face. If I didn’t watch it, I’d be over his knee real soon.

My traitorous pussy started to water. No!

I infused my voice with all the scorn of my sixteen-year-old self. “You think some hot sex and domination is going to cover up the fact that this isn’t my dream life? You’re a rancher, Joel. I’m an heiress. You’re nothing but a cowhand.”

He recoiled like he’d been bitten by a snake. I felt lower than a reptile crawling on its belly.

The pain I was causing was nothing to what I was feeling. But it was worth it to keep him alive. “This isn’t going to work, Joel. I thought I could do it, but… I can’t be happy here.”

He sat down hard on the end of the bed, and scrubbed a hand across his face. “Then what do you want, Isabelle?”

“My own life,” I lied. I twisted the ring on my finger. “I know you’ve done everything you can to help me. And you did help me. I’ll always be grateful.”

“Grateful.” His tone was bitter. I kept mine light.

“Of course. But, in the end, it’s not a real marriage. We’re not together, together.” I held my breath in the thick silence.

“Fine.” He stood up and bunched his fist, and for a second, I thought he was going to punch the wall.

Instead, he stormed out of the room.

Guilt poisoned my veins, curdling in my stomach until it made me sick. I wanted more from him. More anger. I wanted him to punish me. To whup my ass like he’d never whupped it before.

I ran out of the room after him.

He was already out in the yard.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” I called. The barbed wire in my chest was back, twisting, twisting.

“You said it yourself, Isabelle. It’s not a real marriage.” He raised a hand and dropped it, his back still to me. “Now you’ve got your money, you can go.”

My eyes stung. “You think it’s about that?”

His back was rigid. “Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not. And fuck you if you think it is.” I bit my tongue, expecting him to chastise me. Language.

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. But he didn’t turn. He strode toward the tack room, arms swinging.

“I’m sorry.” I gave in, trotting after him. My bottom was tingling as if he had threatened punishment. “Joel, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

No answer. Joel was in his stallion, Flinders’s, stable, putting the headcollar on the fierce black horse.

“You can punish me,” I offered, hovering in the doorway. I felt a burst of relief at the thought. One more punishment, then I’d be on my way.

He looked up briefly. “No. I won’t touch you unless this marriage means something.” He buckled the headcollar behind Flinders’s ears. “You’re free to go, Isabelle. I’m not gonna stop you. I’m heading out for a long ride. Give you time to do what you need to do.”

“Please, Joel.”

For a moment he paused, his face hidden behind his horse. “Go on. You made your choice. I don’t have a claim to you anymore.”

I didn’t make it to the house before tears overwhelmed me. They came in gasping sobs.

I’d hurt him so bad, he didn’t even want to punish me. Didn’t even want to have to look at me.

I stumbled up the porch steps and back to the bedroom, crying hard all the way.

My phone was still on the bed where I’d left it, and it was bursting with messages. I snatched it up:

You got 6 hours before I come and find you

Dont make me do that

Dont keep me waiting

Tinkerbel?

Where the fuck u go?

Flip-flip-flip went my stomach as I read each dart of venom.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I typed so fast, it was a bunch of nonsense. I deleted and started again: I’m here. I’ll come to the club now.

The little circle at the top of the screen was green: Kelly is online. Meaning, Anton was online. I swallowed hard, my stomach convulsing.

Kelly is typing…

No. go to airport.

Vancouver

Bring your passport

My stomach lurched.

I meet you there.

I typed: It’s 4 hours away

I know sweety. I know where you are

A blurry image appeared. With a shaking finger, I tapped it. It was a screenshot of Google maps. Featuring Ashcroft.

“Oh god.” I splayed a hand over my stomach as if that would keep me from retching.

How the fuck did they find out?I’d been desperately hoping that they were bluffing. But they’d tracked Joel down already.

My vision went black. I squatted down quickly before I passed out.

I took a few deep breaths and replied: Coming.

I quit stuffing things in my suitcase. Clothes were the last things I cared about right now. Instead, I grabbed the wallet where I kept my passport, tossed it in the suitcase, and hurried through the house.

Outside, I looked for Joel, but he was nowhere to be seen. He’d obviously gone off riding, no doubt trying to clear his head after all the bullshit I’d just given him.

Then I stopped dead.

How the hell was I going to get to the airport? In a taxi?

That was a hell of a long way.

Or I could get a taxi to my car in Hope, and drive the rest of the way?

No—chances were that heap of junk wouldn’t start anyway.

My gaze came to rest on Joel’s truck. That beautiful gleaming monster. He played it down, but I knew he loved it.

No. I can’t.

But if I didn’t, I was never going to make it to the airport, and Joel was going to get hurt.

I didn’t have a choice.

I ran over to the driver’s side. It was comically huge. Way too big for me. Even climbing into the cab was a lot. I clambered into the seat. The key was in the ignition, as usual—folks didn’t steal things around here.

I shuffled the seat way forward until my feet reached the pedals.

Hands shaking worse than ever, I turned the key. The engine turned over smoothly.

Shit. It’s really happening.

I glanced in the rearview mirror, put the stick into drive, and pressed lightly on the gas. It shot forward. A powerful beast, its engine roaring. Shit. Driving the Junk Monster had often felt like a mechanical process, hauling the wheel around, stomping on the gas. This huge beast needed to be treated with care. I oversteered as I was turning, and almost took out a fence post. For fuck’s sake. Not only had I stolen Joel’s truck but I was going to smash it up, too.

Going at a snail’s pace, I maneuvered cautiously out of the yard. Once I got accustomed to it, the car actually moved like a dream. It was way easier than driving the Junk Monster.

I’ve got this.

Suddenly scared that Joel was going to come running back at the sound, I hit the gas hard, and I was off.

At the end of the road, I turned right toward Hope. No need for GPS yet. Like Joel said—roads only go one way around here.

I pushed at the speed limit all the way. I was scared something would go wrong along the journey, like I’d get in an accident, or have a breakdown, and I’d be late to reach Anton. What if they already had someone hiding at the ranch, waiting for Anton’s command?

Thoughts circled around and around my head. What would Joel do when he came back from his ride and saw the truck was gone? He’d probably be stunned that I’d do a thing like this.

Not half as stunned as I was right now.

I was terrified I wouldn’t make it in time. I was scared shitless about what would meet me at the other end, but I couldn’t even think about that. All I cared about was Joel. The only thing keeping my foot on the gas and my eyes on the road ahead was the thought of saving him from the mafia’s clutches.

Thirty minutes passed, then forty-five, then an hour. The clock ticked over agonizingly slowly. “Come on, come on,” I muttered, as if the truck could magically eat up more blacktop on my command.

When I passed Hope and the route got more complicated, I decided I needed my GPS.

Where did my phone get to?I hadn’t seen it for a while, actually. I rummaged in my pockets. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t on any of the seats, either. Maybe I stuffed it in the suitcase? Those awful minutes as I’d left the ranch for the last time were a blur.

I drove and drove, panic welling up in me. At the next gas station, I pulled off and reached behind me for the suitcase. I rummaged through it, but the phone wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the footwells or under the seats, either.

Crap.

I punched the steering wheel. I must have left it on the bed. How the hell could I have done that, when it was so damn important?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.What if Anton had messaged me and changed the meeting point? The thought went through me like poison.

I just had to get the airport, and hope for the best. He wasn’t going to change the meeting point. He wanted me there with my passport so he could abduct me—drag me off on a plane to Albania, or something.

I jumped back into the truck.

The clock on the dash said 15:41.

Shit. I’d wasted nine valuable minutes.

I hit the gas, and squealed out of the forecourt.

As panic surged in me, I drove faster and faster, caught in a race against time.