“I need a favor, Sergio.” There’s a long pause, and I can almost picture him waiting to see what I’m about to say. “I need safe passage to Germany.”
“Done,” he says, agreeing without question.
“I’ll be at your safehouse in about three hours,” is all I say before ending the call and throwing the burner cell out the car window.
Chapter Eleven
IRIS
My eyes are heavy as I try to open them, but for some reason they aren’t cooperating. I hear the sounds of someone pacing, and it never seems to stop. Panic rises inside of me as the memories come rushing back. I’d been injected with something, and the whole world had gone black in the blink of an eye.
My heart starts to pound at the fear of where I am and who is with me. This is all so freaking crazy. Why would my parents send someone to drug me? A tear slips free at the thought of not having someone on my side to take care of me. The feeling of being lost and alone is overwhelming, but then the image of Dutch appears in my mind. I need him. What if something happened to him too?
A whimper forms in my throat as my body finally catches up.
“Little bit.” Warm hands cup my face, and it’s Dutch’s voice, gentle and soothing. Relief fills me knowing he’s here, and I don’t want to think about how I tried to get away from him in the beginning. “You’re crying.” He wipes away the tear that escaped. “Damn it, Iris, open your eyes.”
His tone changes as he issues the command. It's gruff and demanding, and the need to please him has my eyes doing exactly what he says. There’s also a tingle between my thighs at the sound of his order. How the heck can his voice do that to me?
“Thank fuck,” he says with relief as he leans down and presses his mouth hard against mine. “You scared the shit out of me, little bit.”
I can see the fear in his eyes, and I hate that it’s there. Reaching up, I brush my fingers along his jaw, needing that connection more than I realized. The rough stubble against my fingers feels nice and reminds me that he’s here and he’s real. He hadn’t let anyone take me from him, and the safety in that warms me from the inside out.
“You saved me.” It’s not a question, because looking at him now, there’s no doubt he was my hero.
“Always.” He kisses me again, and this time I don’t want him to take his mouth off of me. My heart starts to pound for a whole other reason as I cling to him.
He pushes his tongue past my lips, claiming this kiss for himself. This one is different from all the others. He’s still got his hands on my face in a gentle hold, and although it’s sweet, I swear he’s trying to remind both of us that I still belong to him.
“Dutch.” I breathe his name.
“I’m right here, little bit, and I’m not going anywhere.” I realize I’m lying on a sofa at the safe house as Dutch picks me up. He sets me on a table nearby and turns on a light. I glance around the room that looks like it’s stuck in the 1980s.
“Where am I?”
“With me.” He smirks, making me snort a laugh. “Fuck, I love that sound.”
He drops his forehead to mine, and I feel a need to soothe him. I run my hands up and down his back. I want to do all I can to reassure him that I’m okay. Well, at least physically I am.
“What the heck happened?”
He lets out a sigh before stepping back and running his hand through his short hair. I think he’s debating what he should tell me. Maybe he doesn't trust me, but can I really blame him?
“Somehow they caught up with us,” he answers after a beat.
“When the man grabbed me, he said my father sent him.”
Dutch’s eyes narrows as he considers this. “Did you try and go with him?” His jaw goes tight.
“If I was going with him, why would he have drugged me? I was trying to get him to stop so we could all talk about this. It’s getting way out of hand.” My response makes him relax some but not by much. He’s on edge, and I can sense it like I’m attuned to him in some way.
He folds his arms over his chest and spells it out for me. “Your fake father tried to drug you.” I know he’s not saying this to hurt me, but the fact that this happened at all is super messed up.
“I guess. I mean, I was fighting the guy. He might have told him to do what he had to do to get me back.” I try to plead my father’s case, but I feel like I’m lying to myself. The only reason I’m defending him is to make myself feel better.
“You don’t send a man to drug your hot-as-fuck daughter so she has no idea what the hell might be happening to her.” Somehow his words both scare the crap at out me and make me giddy that he thinks I’m hot as fuck.
“You’re right.” I drop my head, unsure what I believe anymore. “Dutch, is everything you’re telling me true? Have you ever lied to me?” Two of his fingers come to my chin so he can lift my head to meet his eyes.
