Page 76 of Killer Secrets (Tempting SEALs 5)

He braced her against the wall, held tight, and pounded inside her. He fucked her like the demon he sometimes felt he had become, starving, demented. And she was his softness. His corner of peace.

His hands tightened on her hips as he felt his release boiling in his balls. Holding on wasn't an option. Not when she was crying in his ear, her orgasm unraveling around him, flexing on his dick and tearing his control from him.

He continued to thrust, feeling his cum spurt from his cock in hard, pulsing streams as he locked his teeth against his own cry.

Shudders of pleasure exploded through nerve endings and muscles, racking his body with an ecstasy that still amazed him. An ecstasy found only with Kira. A pleasure that went beyond the flesh and filled the soul.

If he lost her, it would kill him.

* * *

Twenty

WHAT HE WAS AND WHO he had become once he entered Diego Fuentes's world had begun to merge before Kira's arrival. Ian had recognized the signs, the lines that had been blurring between what was just and right, and what was expedient. He had been slowly becoming the same sort of monster he was tracking, and he hadn't realized it until Kira had given him her heart.

What part of him did she hold though?

A week later, he locked himself in his office, pulled up the reports Deke and Trevor had managed to collect, and tried to hide from that question.

Unfortunately, hiding from it changed nothing. She owned him. Heart and soul. The good man, and the man that had become dark, honed by the blood and the evil he had witnessed since accepting the name Fuentes.

He stared at the report and the pictures gained by the interrogation of the two men who had sent the missile exploding into the front of the limo the week before. Tourists, they had at first claimed to be. Nothing more than tourists. They had come in on the yacht Cantrella, rumored to be Sorrell's favorite seagoing vessel. Just tourists.

Timothy Vangressi and Adrian Hughes were anything but tourists. Once Ian's lieutenant, Antoli Kovalyov, began questioning them, they had broken easily enough.

He pulled up the video of the interrogation. He didn't wince at the pain Antoli had dealt out to the two men. The fact that they had held out for over an hour was proof of their training. But Antoli had trained under some of the masterminds of torture. He knew tricks Ian hadn't witnessed, even within the interrogations he had seen as a SEAL.

"Sorrell will kill us," Vangressi had finally sobbed, his face bloodied and swollen, although it was nowhere near as sad a shape as his testicles were in. The drugs Antoli had pumped into the other man, and the pain, were too much. "We were to kill him and the girl. If the McClane girl backs him, he'll have too much power. Too much backing. The girl can't be allowed to influence him until Sorrell has the operation." He was slurring his words, gasping for breath as Antoli slowly eased the pressure of the clamps on his testicles and turned down the power to the electrical lead attached to them.

"Who is Sorrell?" Antoli asked, his voice calm, cold.

Vangressi shook his head. "I haven't seen him. He's here, on the island, but he only calls. The cell phone is just for his calls."

"The cell phone you carried?" Antoli could have been discussing the weather.

Vangressi was sobbing. "The cells we carry. Just for contact and orders. That's all. I swear. We met the Cantrella in Paris and loaded on. We disembarked after it anchored here and slipped ashore under nightfall with the missile launcher and the paperwork to rent the boats. He knew about the meeting that day. Knew the route Fuentes was taking after we arrived. We waited."

"Who on the Cantrella was your contact?"

"Please," Vangressi sobbed, pain and fear contorting his handsome features. "Please. He'll kill me. He'll kill—" His scream was high-pitched, horrible to hear, as Antoli applied power to the electrical leads, straight to the other man's balls.

He would have come out of his seat if he hadn't been strapped to it.

He slumped back a second later, dry heaves racking his body as the power was once again lowered.

"Who was your contact?" Antoli asked again.

"Ascarti," Vangressi whispered. "Gregor Ascarti. He knows Sorrell. He can identify him."

A gunshot followed the information. Then another. Both men slumped in their restraints, their gazes dimmed, death instantaneous from the single bullet buried in each brain.

Antoli was highly effective.

As he watched the video, it hadn't been Vangressi that had filled his mind though, it had been Nathan. The proof of the horrendous torture he had endured during his stay with Fuentes would always scar his mind and his body. There had been no relief, as Vangressi had found. No peace.

Ian pushed his fingers through his hair before rising from his chair and pacing to the bar across the room. Splashing the smooth, expensive whisky he kept on hand into a glass, he turned as a soft knock sounded on the door.

"Yeah?"

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