Savage Tracker by Maggie Cole

3

Obrecht

Everything about Selenamakes me uncomfortable. She's breathtakingly beautiful, innocent at times, and complies with all my demands instantly. My gut wants to tell her to kneel and see what she does, but my brain tells me she's an abused woman who had to do whatever her husband said for fear of her life.

She can't possibly want or need what I'm aching to do with her. The obedience I'm seeing has to be a residual effect of her abusive husband. I'm not sure the details of her and Jack's relationship, but I'm sure she was at his beck and call, ready to comply with every demand he wanted. In some ways, her behavior reminds me of what the BDSM community would determine as a bad Master/slave relationship. What that almost always equals is a slave who didn't give their consent to be one or a Master who abused one who did. Either way, the way she bows her head and stays frozen at times, waiting for me to give her the next order, tells me I need to handle her with care.

It also makes me hate myself. Her submission heats the blood in my veins so hot, it bubbles whenever I'm around her. I can't stop envisioning her kneeling before me, naked, in some sexy outfit, or even in what she's wearing now.

She's a smart woman. There's no way she would ever want to be in any submissive position ever again. And I'm an expert at reading people's emotions. When she bows her head, I see a whirlwind on her face. Confusion and pain laced with hope and lust.

It's a residual effect,I reprimand myself for the millionth time. It's early in the morning. I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. My stomach growls. I finally give up and decide to go to a cafe down the block. I can catch up on the latest in the stock market and have some breakfast.

I step off my elevator at the same time Selena appears. I haven't seen her in a few days, and my heart hammers in my chest. She's lightened her hair, has on makeup, and looks as if she's about to walk the runway. She's wearing jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt, but her face is photo-worthy stunning.

"Wow," I say before I can stop myself.

"Morning. What's wow?" She smiles.

I swallow hard. My mouth goes dry. "Isn't it too early in the morning to look that nice?"

Her face blushes. My balls remind me how blue they are, and I try to stop my wandering eyes from continuing to check her out like a dirty old man.

"Thank you. I...umm..." She scrunches her forehead and bites her lip.

"You lightened your hair?" I ask.

She reaches up and twists a chunk of it around her finger, and I about shoot my wad in my pants. The number of times I've dreamed of tugging on those locks is too many to count. She meets my eyes. "Yes."

"It looks great on you."

"Thanks."

I continue to tease her. "Are you going to a magazine shoot at five in the morning?"

"No. I-I couldn't sleep, so I thought I would go for a walk."

Matvey, one of our bodyguards, steps next to us and nods to me. "Obrecht. Ms. Christian, do you need an escort somewhere?"

She nervously glances between us then explains, "I know it looks weird, but my ex isn't very nice. Kora and Sergey thought—"

I put my fingers over her lips and instantly regret it. They're the softest pair of lips I've ever touched. "I deal with Ivanov security. I know why he's here."

Her hot breath exhales on my fingers, but then she furrows her eyebrows again. "So, you know everything about my ex?"

About how he's the biggest dickhead on earth, and I still haven't decided what to do to him yet or when for hurting you?

"No. I know you hired Ivanov security to assist you, but that's it. I don't know what happens in anyone's marriage."

It's a half-truth. I know way more about her, but I'm not going to admit it.

Her lashes flutter, and I'm unsure whether my answer made her more or less worried and embarrassed. I glance at Matvey. "Give us a minute."

"Sure, boss." He goes back to his position with the security team that runs the building.

I shouldn't do it. My impulse control is nonexistent like it always is around her. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"No."

"I'm going to the cafe down the street. Want to forgo Matvey and have breakfast with me?"

Her lips turn into a tiny smile I can't seem to get enough of. A buzzing grows in my nerves. She glances at Matvey then nervously asks, "Will it be safe? Sergey said I shouldn't go anywhere without one of the guys."

"I'll make sure you're safe." I'll also have my guys inconspicuously following us in case her ex tries to take me out to get to her, but she doesn't need to worry more.

She bites on her lip for a brief moment. "Okay. I'd love to go."

Score!

What am I doing?

It's just breakfast.

I need to stay away from her. I spent all night concluding that observing her from afar was better for both of us. Instead, I give Matvey a knowing look, then guide her out of the building and down the street. As we walk, I keep my hand on her back. I tell myself I'm just protecting her, but all I want to do is lower my hand into her jeans and palm her heart-shaped ass, then stick my tongue down her throat until she moans.

The cafe is close to our building. We don't say much until we're seated in a booth. I intentionally have them seat us in the back of the restaurant, where I can see everyone coming and going and the street even though my guys are outside.

"Coffee?" the waitress asks, holding a pot in her hand.

Selena and I flip our cups, and she fills them. "Do you know what you want?"

I don't need to look at the menu, but Selena glances at it, then back at the waitress, with a stressed look on her face.

"Can you give us a minute, please?" I ask.

"I can just pick something," she anxiously blurts out.

I reach across the table and put my hand on hers. It's another thing I shouldn't do, but my body doesn't seem to be able not to touch her. "Take your time." I nod for the server to go.

"I'll be back soon," she chirps.

"I'm sorry. It won't take long. I—"

I squeeze the top of her hand. "Take your time, dorogaya."

She stares at the menu, and tears brew in her eyes. Her lips quiver, and a wet drop plops on the menu. She quickly wipes her face.

What did that bastard do to her?

"Look at me," I demand.

She immediately locks eyes with mine.

"There's no rush. If there was, I would tell you we were on a time constraint."

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening right now." She turns her face less than an inch then freezes, as if waiting for me to permit her to look away and fighting the urge not to move.

I reach across the table and swipe under her eyes. She softly gasps, and her pert breasts rise. I glance quickly at them then back at her face. "Tell me what's going on, and don't worry about what you assume I'll think."

She swallows hard.

I gently prod her. "It's okay, my dorogaya. Tell me."

"I...um...my ex used to get upset if I wasted his time."

Asshole. Like any time spent with her is wasted.

"So, you had to know what you were going to order without looking at the menu?"

"Yes. But...um..." She takes another deep breath. "I'm not picky, but I had a strict weight I had to stay at. He didn't want me to waste his money by not eating, so I always had to eat everything on my plate. He always ordered me a side salad with no dressing or an egg if it was breakfast."

My timeline to deal with Jack just got shorter. I maintain my calm composure and ask, "And what would happen if you didn't eat everything?"

More color drains from her face. "I would get punished."

"And what did that look like?"

The waitress comes back. "Are you ready?"

I don't budge my eyes from Selena's. "No. I'll let you know when we are," I tell the server then wait for Selena to answer my question.

"Do I have to answer this? May I have permission not to answer right now?" she whispers.

My dick pulses against my zipper, and I officially hate myself. We aren't in a relationship of any sort. I'm not her Master, Dom, or even boyfriend. She has no reason in this circumstance to ask me for permission.

It's clear to me Selena is still traumatized from whatever it is Jack made her do. I also know what she needs to hear to relax. "Yes, you may answer at another time."

She releases the breath she was holding and smiles. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now what kind of breakfast food do you like? And please don't say you're ordering an egg."

Her lips twitch. "Do you have something against eggs?"

"Nope. But if you lost any weight, you'd be one of those boney girls."

She raises her eyebrows. "Boney girls?"

"Yep. No curves, nothing to hold on to, all bones, and nothing exciting to look at, like right now."

Her face flushes. "I need to lose weight right now. I've gained fifteen pounds since I left Jack. I... I haven't been as conscious about my diet."

"You must have needed it, then. All I see when I look at you is a gorgeous, curvy, Greek woman."

What am I doing?

Telling the truth.

I need to shut up.

Her lips twitch, and golden flames erupt in her eyes. "Your accent is sexy."

"Mine? I don't have an accent," I attempt to say in a serious tone and as American as I can.

She laughs. "Your non-accent needs some work."

"I know. It's horrible, isn't it?"

She winces. "I say stick with your current Russian-American voice."

"Ouch." I pretend to stab my heart. "You still have your Greek accent."

Pride and sadness both cross her face. "I used to pretend I was American when I was little. I learned English in school and had the English version of the movie Dirty Dancing. My friends and I would always practice. It came in handy when I moved."

"I can put Patrick Swayze's moves to shame."

She bursts out laughing. "No, you can't."

"Oh, but I can."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Maksim decided we all needed to learn to dance for Sergey's eighteenth birthday. We each had to pick out a type of dance and learn it. It took about a year."

Amusement fills her face. "Wow. What dance did you pick?"

"What do you think I chose?"

"Mmm... Cha Cha?"

"Boris picked that."

"Merengue?"

"Nope. That was Maksim's."

"I give up. What did you choose?"

I lean closer. "Mine was the tango."

"Interesting."

"Sergey's was way more fun."

"Why, what was it?"

"Hip-hop."

She laughs again, and it's like striking a match. If I could listen to her laugh all day, I would. "Are you telling the truth?"

"Yep. I have mad skills," I claim. "Of course, they come out in full force after several shots of vodka."

Her eyes widen. "Well, of course."

I take a sip of coffee. "So, you knew how to sound American before you came here, but why did you say it came in handy? You don't like your accent?"

"No. Not exactly." She nervously shifts in her seat.

"Are you going to tell me?"

She hesitates for so long, I think she's going to tell me she wants another pass. But she finally says, "Jack said his wife wasn't going to sound like a poor foreigner. He said I needed to sound American when we were around anyone. I-I worked really hard to obey him, but it was one of the easier things I had to do."

My stomach clenches and I fist my hand under the table. What she just told me is loaded in so many ways. And I don't want to think about what she had to do that was harder.

Stay calm. Don't freak her out.

I'm going to kill her bastard ex.

I take a deep breath. "So, you always wanted to come to America?"

She shrugs. "It always seemed so exciting compared to my little town of Pelion. It's a beautiful place, but when you're a child, you can't appreciate it."

"You ever go back?"

Her face darkens. "No. My family disowned me. There's nothing to go back for."

I blurt out, "Because of him?"

She nods.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure it wasn't easy on you." I take a sip of coffee but only to try and avoid her seeing any rage fuming from me.

She doesn't say anything.

I point to the menu. "Let's decide what we're eating before the server comes back." We spend a few minutes looking at the menu. When Selena looks up, I ask, "Do you know what you want?"

"Yes."

You better not order an egg, baby girl.

I motion to the server to come back, and she does. With a big smile, she asks, "And what can I get for you?"

"Selena?" I nod.

"Can I have the number six but no onions, please?"

I scan the menu to six, which is a Denver omelet.

"Sure. Wheat, rye, or white toast?"

"Rye, please."

"And you, sir?"

"Number two with wheat, please."

"Very well." The server leaves.

Selena takes a sip of coffee then asks, "Are you always up this early?"

"It depends. Not usually."

"You're in security, then?"

I'm unsure why I don't just say yes and leave it at that, but I reply, "Yes, but I mostly track."

Surprise fills her face. "Oh? What does track mean?"

What am I doing? I don't tell anyone this.

My pulse increases when I realize the predicament I'm now in. What is it about this woman that makes me lose my head all the time?

"When our security is worried about someone, I'm the person to dig in and find information on them. Sometimes, I go find them."

"Like a hunter?"

"I guess that's a good way to think of it."

She taps her cup. "Is it dangerous? It sounds dangerous."

I shrug. "It's not for the faint of heart."

"How did you get into something like that?"

My chest tightens. I finally reply, "It's a long story."

She tilts her head. Sympathy fills her expression. "You don't want to talk about it, do you? It's something painful?"

"Why do you ask that?"

She reaches across the table and puts her hand on my cheek. It creates lightning in my veins. She strokes her thumb under my eye. "I saw it here." She lowers her hand and traces my jaw. "And this clenched, as if you were about to grind all your molars out."

"You read people well," I tell her and feel an immediate loss when she removes her hand from my cheek.

"I'll tell you a secret if you want to know."

I lean closer and tease, "Well, don't keep me in the dark."

She licks her lips. My dick officially feels suffocated as she says, "I have these dreams."

"Sexy dreams?" I wiggle my eyebrows.

Her face turns as bright red as the booth we're sitting in. "I'm not talking about those ones," she blurts out then her face turns a dark crimson.

Come to daddy.

I'm such a pervert.

"But you're admitting you have porno-style dreams?"

She laughs. "Did I ever use those words?"

"Just need a yes or no, my dorogaya."

She covers her face in her hands.

No fucking way.

Jesus. This woman.

"Tell me more about these secret sexy dreams," I say then take a sip of my coffee.

She composes herself then says, "As I was saying, I have these dreams, and it's like I can see what's going to happen."

"So, you can predict the future?"

She tilts her head. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Nope. My mother has a sixth sense, too. She always knew when we were about to get into trouble," I admit. "So, how often do you have these dreams?"

"Maybe once or twice a year. I'll dream something, and it'll come true. Before I met Jack, I dreamed I was going to meet this bad man. He was faceless, and of course, I didn't put two and two together it was him. But I also dreamed I was moving to the United States. And the night before Sergey showed up outside the courthouse, I dreamed of the condo. I was there, drinking coffee and staring at my new faucet, which has happened pretty much every morning since you installed it."

"And you think about me since I delivered it, right?" I tease and wink.

Her face flares with heat again. "It was very kind of you."

The server refills our coffee. "Breakfast is coming out soon."

"Thank you," Selena says to her with a smile, and I nod.

"You have a gift. Do you ever dream things that aren't true?" I ask.

She puts both hands around her mug. "Oh, yeah. All the time. But my dreams are usually pretty vivid. I was—" She stares at her coffee.

I want to know whatever it is she doesn't want to say. So, in my most demanding voice, I firmly order, "Tell me whatever you were going to say. You can look at me, or you don't have to."

I officially just became a complete asshole by putting her in this position. If she was involved in what I think she was, she'll tell me.

She stays focused on her coffee but instantly replies, "I was always scared of sleeping. Jack said I talked in my sleep at times. One time he woke me up, and I don't know what I said, but I got punished for it."

I try again. "How did he punish you?"

"Please. I don't want to discuss it. If you make me—"

"You don't have to," I assure her, unable to handle the scared look on her face.

"Thank you, Mast—" She freezes, and mortification consumes her face. Her forehead wrinkles, and she gapes at her coffee.

She almost called me Master.

There is no more wondering what type of relationship she had with Jack. He was her Master, and she was his slave.

How much more damage did he do that I can't even see?

One thing I know for sure, Jack and Selena weren't in a healthy, consenting Master-slave relationship. I'm not a fan of the Master-slave concept, but I know for some people it works. But only in consenting situations.

The server brings our food over. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Selena?" I ask, staring at her as she continues to gape at her coffee.

Her long lashes lift, and she pins her conflicted orbs on mine, then barely whispers, "No."

I turn to the server. "Thank you. We're good." When I turn back to Selena, she's staring at her plate.

I need to bring her back to me.

I reach across the table and tilt her chin up so she has to look at me. "Only eat what you want, okay?"

She takes a deep breath and smiles, "Okay. Thank you."

"What are you doing today?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. I think I might check out college programs."

"Really? What kind?"

"I don't know. I just feel like I need to do something with myself. I-I feel kind of antsy lately. Too much free time."

I spend the rest of breakfast keeping things light and trying to avoid any hard topics. When I drop her off at her apartment, she seems like her normal self.

It doesn't fool me though. Her scars run deep. I still have no idea what he did to torment her.

One way or another, I'm going to find out. Then, I'm going after Jack Christian. Anything he did to her, I'll make sure he experiences before I take every ounce of oxygen he has out of his lungs.