My wrists are bound and numb.
It takes a moment for me to register anything else. Blinking and squinting against the sunlight, I hear the creak of my leather bonds shifting against their tether. Memories slowly drift into my mind as the desert sways dizzily around me. Memories of gunfire, darkness, orders barked at me by a man in a dark hood.
And Katana’s father.
Wrong place at the wrong time, of course he assumed that I was in on it. No time for explanations.
A cloud shifts and the sun warms the flesh of my belly. My stomach clenches, not wanting to accept what that means. With my arms tied over my head like this it’s difficult, but I struggle to glance down. Someone has stripped me naked. Unharmed, as far as I can tell, but that’s almost worse. My pulse thunders. I’ve heard the stories. I know what comes next.
Limbs aching from being stretched for so long, I force myself to turn. Mexico dust stretches to the horizon, peppered with sparse cacti and outcrops of rock. Behind me, a plain stucco wall of an old building. I know this place. Katana brought me here. We made love and watched the sunset. It’s remote. Even if I shouted, nobody would hear me.
“Well, well, what’s this?” For a second, I don’t recognise her voice. It sounds different. Playful. Playful? “My father told me I would be pleased.”
“Katana.” With my body stretched as it is, it’s difficult to get the word out. “I didn’t…”
She laughs. “I know, Juan. So does my father. He told me to thank you for your loyalty.”
Relief floods through me. He knows I didn’t betray him. But that doesn’t make any sense, with me being tied like this. “Then why am I-”
As she comes into view, that thought evaporates in the Mexico heat. Katana is beautiful. No, that word doesn’t do her justice. She’s everything. Since the moment I met her, any other beauty has been diminished. Her long, dark hair, her opal eyes, her pert breasts. Even in my current situation, my heart stops as I see her, my gaze slides over her body, naked except for dark stockings and a suspender belt.
My brain searches for some sort of sense in what’s going on, but there is none. It must be a dream. Somewhere, in the real world, I’m broken and unconscious from the beating I’ve received. That’s the only explanation.
“You seem a little lost for words, lover.” She grins and undulates, biting her lip as she touches a nipple, pinches it to redden the skin, and glances down at my cock. Involuntarily, I feel it stiffen under her gaze.
“What are you doing?”
Read all about the wonderful author: Nicci Haydon