The Assassin's Bride Ch. 07

Thanks readers, for your continuous support and encouragement. Particular thanks to Rumpole/CTD for ensuring I don't post things too atrocious ;) Enjoy.

*******

Carina's eyes slowly fluttered open, and she grimaced at the blinding light on her face.

"Ugh. Eduardo, the curtains!" she complained, rolling to her front and reaching across the bed. "Eduardo?"

Realising she was alone, Carina lazily sat up and her tired expression sharpened as she took in her surroundings. Normally a naked sleeper, she was fully clothed in a black sports dress that buttoned up the centre. Her long, dark hair was in a rough braid, with several loose strands that pulled free in her sleep.

Thoroughly bemused, she stared around the luxurious apartment; the cheerful peach walls, and the glinting security camera pointed at her from the ceiling.

"Huh?" she frowned. Moments later, she heard a sound from outside and stared as Michael entered.

She smiled in greeting, shaking her head with bewilderment. "Where the hell are we?"

There was something different about Michael. Far more refreshed than she was, he wore a midnight blue polo t-shirt and black jeans. He watched her rather searchingly.

"You ok?" he asked, sitting on the bed to affectionately tug her plait.

"Yeah, sure!" she said with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I just have no idea where the fuck we are. Where's Eduardo?"

"He's with Carlos," Michael smoothly answered. "There was trouble."

"What happened?"

Michael hesitated. Before he could answer, Carina groaned and fell back to the bed with the heels of her palms pressed to her temples.

"Argh! My head feels like world war three!" she whined. "Did someone hit me?"

"You knocked your head," Michael said softly, gently easing her upright. "It will feel better if you sit up."

Carina swore at the pounding agony in her skull. Leaning against Michael, she tiredly wrapped her arms about him in a clumsy hug. It was a comfort move. Michael closed his eyes at the emotion the casual gesture roused in him. There was no wary reluctance from her, no tense resentment. She was completely relaxed and at ease.

"I really don't remember anything," she mumbled against his bicep, restlessly plucking at the soft cotton sleeve of his shirt.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Nothing," she shook her head and tightly shut her eyes. "I mean, I don't remember coming here."

"Just like the mornings after you drink," Michael teased, and Carina lightly punched him.

"Asshole."

"Want coffee?"

"Insult retracted!" Carina declared with a cheeky nod, opening her eyes with a sigh. "My head hurts!"

"It'll ease up, I promise," Michael replied, pressing his fingers in slow circles on her temple in a soothing massage.

Glancing to the side and noticing the platter of food, Carina disengaged herself, still rubbing the back of her head. "Is that for me?"

"Yeah." Michael grinned at her eagerness, and eased her to the side of the bed. He got up to draw the small table closer so she could eat from the bed's edge.

"So, everything's ok with the boys?" she asked through a mouthful of croissant, vigorously nodding as he motioned to the coffee. She swallowed and waved a hand before he could answer.

"Never mind. If they were in trouble, I'd see it on your face," Carina shrugged carelessly, accepting the mug Michael held out. She deeply breathed the aroma of steaming caffeine. "So, where are we?"

"Safe," Michael answered evasively, chewing on an olive as he watched her. "But there's plenty to do here, while we wait."

"I want to sail!" Carina's face lit up and her gaze moved to the balcony, her ears picking up sounds of the distant ocean.

"Yes, Carina, I will take you sailing," Michael rolled his eyes, though his chest swelled with exuberance; with hope for the future. It built to a pleasant ache, a rekindling of feelings he thought he might never experience again. A time when they were close, and she trusted him.

"So, what is this place?" she asked, giving the camera another glance. "Where will you sleep?"

"There's another apartment, down the hall," Michael replied, stretching his arms to fold them behind his head.

"I'll get bored. Sleep in here," Carina said dismissively, still eyeing the food. "It won't be the first time we shared a bed."

"No, Carina," Michael said firmly, expertly hiding the rush of lust that followed her innocent invite. "I am not staying up all night to discuss Eduardo."

"I don't talk about him all the time!"

"He was all you talked about," Michael quietly muttered.

"What?"

"He is all you talk about," he loudly articulated. "I will be just down the hall. A man needs his sleep."

Carina sighed heavily and stretched her neck side to side. "The headache is still there. How long did you say we are here?"

"Hopefully not too long," he smiled. Something very close to sadness tugged at him. It was the way she trusted him so deeply. So much that she hardly questioned the new environment, her lover's absence, or his lack of answers.

Then Michael's fanciful imaginings were regrettably brought to the present as Carina woke in his arms and abruptly turned to the other side of the bed. Deciding to let her be, he stared at the ceiling. It was so easy to picture their friendship resuming, if her memory could be manipulated. Pondering future possibilities, Michael's eyes drifted closed.

For Carina, it was her worst night's sleep to memory. The second her eyes bleakly opened at dawn, frightening concerns refreshed in her mind.

It was only one time. Couples try for months, even years. Michael could have low sperm count. Maybe you are infertile. It was only once. The chances are slim...It was only once!

Curled up beside Michael, Carina quietly sobbed into her palms as the image of a swollen belly overtook her rationalising. Michael's child could be growing inside her, right now. There were no medical options for her, and she didn't have the heart to stick a coat hanger up there.

Carina briskly rubbed her forehead, hugely agitated. She couldn't be pregnant. She prayed not to be. But whether or not the one instance was potent, Michael made his intentions clear. He was going to fuck her unprotected until she carried his child.

Michael stirred and edged close, drawing an arm about Carina's bare waist to pull her snugly against him. Carina forced herself to stop crying, waiting until his breathing steadily continued as he slept. Even in sleep he enjoyed her body, his searching hand aimlessly cupped the soft curve of her breast and gently kneaded, like a slumbering child unconsciously finding comfort in a toy.

The lovely bubble of hope for freedom that had been budding in Carina's mind disastrously burst. Michael knew Gavin was planning to rescue her, and would do everything in his power to prevent it. Michael was an expert at ruining lives.

In the interim, he was going to resume his abusive habits. Now, she was just his sex slave, trapped at an unknown location, with only Michael to talk to. There would be no one else for company, unless she gave birth...

"No!" she groaned wretchedly, not caring if she woke Michael. The tormenting prospect was too awful for her to stay silent.

"Mm?" Michael said sleepily, squeezing her breast and nuzzling the smooth curve of her neck. "What is it, Carina?"

"How could you ask such a thing?" she said bitterly, wrenching herself free and leaving the bed. In the bathroom, she looked at her reflection.

The sleepless anxiety showed on her face. Michael's expensive pendant was still around her neck, and she angrily tried to rip it away. But the chain was strong as it was delicate, and after a frustrated moment Carina was forced to remove it in a civilised manner by undoing the clasp. Then she dropped the pendant into the toilet.

"Carina?" Michael called softly, watching from the doorway. "That's rude."

"Leave me alone!"

For a moment it seemed that he would. Then he entered the bathroom, and Carina backed into the counter. Only in underwear, the morning sun gleamed across his toned physique. Though relaxed, he still appeared strong and intimidating.

"But you're naked," he said huskily, his eyes raking her delectable, slender nudity. Carina stiffened as he stepped close. But he didn't touch her, instead bending to retrieve the pendant. "You really are childish."

"You're fucked up."

Michael shrugged, gently placing the pendant on the counter behind her. "Sure, I admit it. After last night, I will face the reality. You've changed me."

"Eat dirt, and die!"

"Meow!"

"Leave me alone, Michael!"

"That ship has sailed, Carina," he murmured, stepping closer. Wary of his dangerous proximity, Carina didn't make any sudden movements. Michael cupped her cheek, guiding her to look up at him.

"I wanted this to be different," he said gravely. "I tried. You were always a forbidden fruit to me that I had to resist. But once I had you, what control I had left went with it. It was like a first hit of heroin. Even Gavin knew the change in me," he added, his lip curled with anger as he recalled the unflattering comment about being unsettled by a woman.

Then his attention returned to Carina, and he lightly brushed his mouth over hers, before gently pulling her lower lip with his teeth.

"You've made me crazier than I thought myself capable, to a point of impacting my professionalism."

"Michael, you're not crazy. This is crazy," Carina pleaded, wishing she could talk sense into him. "Please, if you'd just let me go-!"

Michael's finger pressed to her lips. "None of that nonsense."

"I can't live like this, Michael, please! If you cared about me at all-"

"I care for you very deeply, Carina. I adore you, too much."

With a frustrated sound, she looked away, and Michael took advantage of the distraction to press close. Startled, Carina gripped his biceps for support as she was suddenly lifted to sit on the counter. Michael navigated himself between her legs.

"Oh, God. Please don't..." Carina implored. "Just don't finish inside me, Michael, please!"

"Ah. So now it's not the sex you object to?"

Carina shook her head at his cruel mockery. "You're every bit the monster you appear."

Michael's hands smoothed down her waist to squeeze her ass, then he jerked her against him. Reaching between them to free his cock, it bounced out, jabbing uncomfortably against her abdomen.

"We were true friends, you and I. Then I pulled you out of a bad situation. I brought you to a safe place to live in comfort. I offer you a level of devotion most women only dream of. All I've ever asked is for you to give me a chance, but you won't."

"This bullshit again!" Carina snarled in his face. "You murdered Eduardo, a man who trusted you! Taking me from Carlos never gave you the right to imprison me! And from what I remember, Carlos was decent enough to show remorse for what he did! That's what love is!"

"Oh, you think you know him so well, do you?" Michael shouted, recognising the approach of the startling temper that was recently taking him by surprise.

"I KNOW HIM MORE THAN I KNOW YOU!" Carina screamed in an ear-splitting tirade, and Michael abruptly ended it with his palm over her mouth.

"Everything in my life went to plan, except the one thing that could truly matter," he growled, crushing her against him in a tight embrace, as though holding onto her for support while he aired his frustrations. She was both his pain, and his salvation.

Carina moaned into his hand and wriggled uncomfortably, but it was useless. She had nothing to offer that he would believe, and even if she did, she didn't have the energy to be convincing. Michael's hand left her mouth and Carina's thoughts scattered when his cock began to nudge, and slowly press into her.

"Uhhh!" she complained against his shoulder as he readjusted position and edged deeper. His hand caught in her hair and forced her face up.

"Look at me," he brusquely ordered, slowly thrusting as she opened tearful eyes in a daze. Something twisted in his chest when their eyes locked. She was so beautiful, even in misery, it made his knees weak.

"Please, don't!" she whispered, her fingers digging into his arms. "Michael, please don't!"

Carina was released so abruptly she almost fell off the counter. Still painfully hard, Michael retreated, but paused in the doorway.

"I'll bring breakfast."

**********

Michael thoughtfully sat at his desk and idly edged a small, silver photo frame from behind Tate's beautiful teal urn. The picture was taken at a bar in Mexico. Gavin and Tate were in the midst of hysterical laughter; various shot glasses scattered across the table.

Tate had one arm around Gavin's neck, the other playfully pulling Michael's shirt collar. Michael looked at himself in the photo, stiffly leaning away from his companions to stare cynically at the camera man. Though unsmiling, his eyes glowed with suppressed humour.

Unwelcome feelings surfaced and Michael abruptly shoved the square image back out of sight. Considering the real reason he was in the office, Michael picked up his black address book. He decided his visualisation about Carina could become a reality; that they could start again, if she could forget what recently transpired between them.

Michael flicked through the small book and made a call.

"Yeah?" The answering voice was impatient.

"Sam. It's Ethan."

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

"Not much. I'm on a break."

"I heard. There's a rumour going around that you've lost touch."

Michael's jaw clenched. "Just a temporary glitch I have to deal with."

"No judgment. Happens to us all," Sam politely replied. "What do you need from me?"

"You know that memory stuff you were working on?"

There was a wary pause before Sam answered. "What about it?"

"Is it finished?"

"New stuff takes ages, you know that. And I thought you weren't working."

"I'm not."

"Then why are you asking me about a memory drug? You wanna forget something?"

"This isn't a joke."

"Look, Ethan," Sam began, and Michael imagined he was habitually balancing a gold pen on his knuckles. "I don't make shit just to see it emerge on the local market. This is specialised."

"That's why I called you."

"Is this to do with your hiatus?"

"What's with the interrogation? You never questioned me before."

"I've never had cause."

"What the hell do you care?" Michael growled, feeling his temper slipping. "You've sold me drugs to make people trip out. To make them sleep for days at a time. To cause excruciating pain..."

"But this is very personal. I can hear it in your voice."

"So, what?" Michael snapped.

"So, I don't want to see my fucking product on the news and have it linked to me, or leaked to a competitor."

"That would never happen."

"Yeah. You once said you always finish a job."

Michael only just stopped himself from telling Sam to fuck off. Was there anyone who didn't know he'd ditched the last gig?

"Just tell me - how much memory does it wipe?"

Sam sighed irritably. "It's far from perfected. Could be a month, or years. Obviously the more potent it is, the more memory that goes with it. But everyone's biology is unique and I'm always short on test subjects. Could turn someone into a vegetable."

"We both know you could tailor it for me."

"Ethan, this is being tailored for jobs when you might need someone to forget long enough to be convinced to do something, or give you something. Or like the jobs you might need someone to stay alive, but forget you ever met."

"I wouldn't even need a month's worth. Is the memory loss permanent?" Michael asked, ignoring Sam's jibe about professionalism.

"Did you hear what I said about biology?"

There was another tense pause, before Sam went on. "Look, I know it's not my place to comment. I get that. But if this isn't business - you should know it's not a drug for anyone you care about. More importantly, it's not ready."

"When will it be?"

"Hard to say. Sleep drugs and kill drugs are simple. Anything in between is complex. But this is breakthrough. I have to be able to categorise it by strength and recipient. That takes time."

"I need someone to forget very recent events, without being harmed."

"I'm not liking this side of you, Ethan."

Michael took a deep breath. "You sell all kinds of questionable things to bad people!"

"Yeah, but...they're level-headed."

"Spare me the psychological assessment!" Michael snarled. "Sam, this is important!"

"My reputation is everything. I thought we had that in common."

Michael stood and viciously kicked his chair. It swiftly wheeled across the small room and loudly smacked the steel door. There was a telling silence as Sam processed the outburst.

"Anyway, like I said -- it's not ready," he coldly continued. It might have been true, but Sam's tone suggested he would have said the same thing even if it was ready.

"Sam, name your price."

"Jesus Christ, Ethan. Tell me this isn't about a woman!"

Michael paused as a blinking red light caught his attention. "Get offline. Someone's intercepting."

They ended the call at the same time.

*****

Carina took advantage of Michael's absence to shower and dress herself. Thinking of the man she dealt with, she opted for neutral colours. A loose, faded yellow t-shirt and beige slacks. Peaceful tones that wouldn't visually spike his temper, or his lust.

It was an awkward meal, with a downward vibe that might be expected at a wake, or after an exhausting all-night party that ended in disaster. The mood was tired, somber, yet loaded with tension.

Michael's features were rigidly tight as he appeared to focus on his food. Meanwhile, his thoughts uselessly swirled around his failed plans and the fact his life was unravelling because of a woman. He had never been so fiercely in love, and was completely unprepared for the powerful way it affected his rationality. It made him irritable and erratic. On top of his emotional woes, he was very disturbed by the signal attempting to infiltrate his secure line. It had to be local, and it wasn't Gavin.

Carina didn't eat much, unable to stop herself casting furtive glances in Michael's direction. He seemed very preoccupied, which wasn't surprising. Though relieved he didn't come inside her a second time, going by his brooding expression, he was still a ticking time bomb.

"Are you going to kill him?" Carina finally asked. She'd wanted to say 'are you going to try to kill him?', but knew the insinuation that Gavin could get the upper hand would be dangerously provocative.

"Maybe," Michael smirked at the peach in his hands. It was a deliberately non-committal answer to taunt her with the possibility. He irritably threw the fruit, hearing the soft thud as it connected somewhere within the deep, green cluster of bustling trees.

Carina didn't know what to say that wouldn't make him angry or amorous...or both. But she felt she should take advantage of a calmer situation and try to influence him.

"Michael, I want to thank you for not-"

"Don't thank me." Bitterness overwhelmed Michael, and he indulged in it. It wasn't like him to wallow in self-pity, but little these days resembled his old self.

It was true he was ready to be a father, but he wanted their first child to be conceived in love, not rape. Just like their first time together was tainted by an unflattering reference to Eduardo, potentially so was this.

Michael never intended to impregnate Carina as a prisoner. He'd envisioned she'd eventually accept him and embrace it. That she'd want it, then they'd try for one. When they were blessed, they could travel for the medical treatment and monitoring that a new mother required.

Michael's frown darkened as his thoughts unhelpfully progressed. He wanted his children to have the best chance at life; the best upbringing with two parents who loved each other. He wanted to gift the childhood he never had. His heirs would not have to struggle for money, or toil or fight or kill people to survive.