Laird's Submissive [Soldiers of Passion 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 7

  Laird waited for him to come out from behind the garbage bin. He snarled as he saw the glint of the rather large blade in the shadows. Hmm, so they had no plan on freeing Layle. They had every plan to kill him and keep her. He crouched down and waited. He had the patience to wait this fucker out. There was no way Layle was going to get hurt any further.

  * * * *

  Layle flinched away from the short, thick man. Revulsion filled her at the leer on his face. Her stomach turned as he licked his lips. A nauseous feeling struck her, and she fought to keep the bile from rising.

  “Pretty little bird. I’m sure I have a place for her in my home,” he replied in an odd accent.

  Layle tried to differentiate it, eventually deciding he was from the inner city. Probably some pimp millionaire. One of those men who thought he was all that and more when he was nothing but trash.

  “That fool made the drop. Bill should be here anytime. He’s probably just making sure he isn’t trailed back here.”

  Layle glanced at the man with the thick voice. She discovered his name was Frank. This new man, inner city pimp was Mr. Sims. She assumed a cover-up, a bad one at that. Her gaze darted to the big steel door at the back of the warehouse they obviously had her in. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Tattoo scumbag said if he returned, that meant her man was dead. He always killed them. Dread filled her. He killed Laird, and the last thing she had done with Laird was not what she had wanted. She should have told him she loved him and that she wanted to be with him but…she notched her chin. No way! There was no way this scumbag got the upper hand on Laird. No way no how.

  Chapter Eleven

  Laird secured the building. Only three on the inside, and no one outside anywhere. He narrowed his eyes. There was no way it was going to be this easy. He pulled out his cell, keeping his eyes on the building and speed-dialing Jake. “Jake.” He waited and watched.

  “Yup.”

  “Three in, no one out. I’m in the industrial part of town.”

  “Yup, I know. I got Phil, Hannah, and Warren on you,” he informed, a chuckle to his voice. He was sure Laird would appreciate having some very well-trained men backing him.

  Laird narrowed his eyes, making another scan of the grounds and spotting his tails. “Thanks for the heads up, asshole.”

  “You’re welcome. You go on in. They have your back.”

  Laird pressed the end button, shutting Jake out, and relief swept over him. Leave it to Jake to make sure he had backup and reliable ones at that. Phil, Hannah and Warren had all served on the same special ops team Jake had headed before he had retired. Laird would trust anyone that had been trained under Jake. A smile crept to his lips. He, after all had trained and taught Jake all he knew in regards to special Ops. He motioned to his three new comrades that he was moving in, and all gave a nod of recognition.

  * * * *

  Layle screamed as shots rang out. She dove and took cover under a battered table, knocking it over and falling up against it. Within seconds of the chaos, Frank was next to her, a gun in his hands and reaching for her. “No fucking way!” she yelled and grabbed his hand in a death lock grip and unarmed him, shoving her foot forcefully against his groin, pushing him out into sight of whoever was shooting at them. She flinched as his blood sprayed against the wall behind him, half his face going with it. She took a quick assessment of her weapon and readied herself for the attacker to show himself.

  Silence filled the air, and she could hear death as it stepped on Mr. Sims’ doorstep. His breathing laboured, it sounded as though he were scratching at the floor. “Help,” he gargled. Layle dared peek out from behind the table, catching sight of a dark figure in the corner. She raised her weapon and shot, taking up hiding behind the table before her assailant shot back. She heard a grunt and a stumble.

  “Seriously, Layle?”

  Layle froze in spot. Laird! Oh goodness no, she didn’t just shoot him, did she? She went to look then held herself back. “Laird?” she called, readying her weapon, waiting. Her heart beat in her ears, and she tried to calm her out-of-control breathing. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made her light-headed.

  “Layle, where the fuck are you, woman?”

  “Tell me it’s you, Laird!” she demanded. She needed him to confirm it was him.

  “Yes, Layle, it’s me, Laird! Think you could get your little ass over here before I bleed out!” he grumbled, sliding to the floor, hugging his side. She frickin’ shot him! Thank God her aim was off. Had she been inches over, this could have ended badly.

  Layle peeked around the corner and focused on the dark figure. “Take your hood off!” she demanded, feeling stronger. She could do this. She would take control and show no fear to this man who claimed to be Laird. It sounded like Laird, but she needed to be sure.

  Laird pulled at his balaclava, revealing his face to her. The relief he saw there filled his heart. “Watch the fat bastard. He’s still alive,” he ordered as he watched her ease out from behind the knocked-over table. Pride filled him as she scanned the room, her eyes taking in everything. She kicked any weapons away from the dying man lying between them then rushed to him.

  Layle knelt next to Laird, assessing his situation, a wound to his right side. Hopefully it had gone through. “Let me see.” She urged her hands, already pushing at his, hurt filling her that she had caused him this pain, this hurt. “Flesh wound,” she critiqued after lifting his shirt. Thank God, only a hunk of his side would be missing. She slapped his hand back onto his wound. “They have a first aid kit. Be right back,” she murmured, rushing across the room and disappearing around a corner. When she returned, three more darkly dressed male figures stood around him. “Get the hell away from him!” she ordered, swiftly grabbing up Mr. Sims’ gun from the floor and aiming it at the middle figure. Arms went up and three guns were trained on her.

  “They’re with me, Layle. It’s okay. Put the gun down,” Laird ordered.

  Layle shook her head. “Tell them to get their weapons off me and I’ll comply,” she responded, clutching the first aid kit in one hand and holding the gun steady in the other, ready to take out whoever needed taking out if they didn’t listen. She watched as Laird gave a nod and all three lowered their weapons. Wow, Laird had backup and good men at that. To protect him like any soldier should. Layle tucked hers into the back of the flimsy pants she had been given and rushed to Laird, falling to her knees in front of him. “Shirt up, Laird. We’ll make quick work of this till we can get you to the hospital,” she ordered, already pushing up his shirt with one hand while the other popped open the first aid kit.

  “She’s a nifty little one,” replied a woman’s voice.

  Layle looked up and whoa, she hadn’t noticed the breasts on that soldier before. She was sure those were three men standing there. She turned her attention back to Laird. “This is gonna sting,” she warned before giving it a swipe with an antibacterial wipe. Laird gritted his teeth and sat silently as she administered him. He watched her hands move deftly over him and around him. She made quick neat work of his wound before looking at him. “Silly man. You should have warned me it was you,” she chastised, looking him over and making sure he had no other wounds.

  “Laird, we should move out and get you some medical help,” voiced a man from behind Layle.

  Layle paid no attention, rising and offering her hand to Laird. When he stood on his own, she looked around and took a real good look at the place she had been dragged to. Mr. Sims lay still, blood draining from his chest. Frank was half-hidden by the table. She didn’t need to see him again, knowing full well the head wound had finished him. She spotted her original kidnapper against the wall in a sitting position, his eyes glazed over and a single wound to his forehead. She notched her chin and said a silent adios.

  * * * *

  Laird took hold of Jake’s hand, pulling him in for a hug. “Good to see you again, Jake,” he murmured, pushing him away and peering down at the very pregnant Vivian. “Congratulatio
ns,” he murmured. He had missed Jake and Viv the night he had retrieved Layle. Fuck, he’d lost Layle as soon as the nurses had assured them that he was fine and that he could go. She had said she needed to go to the washroom and he’d not seen her since. He’d called her home numerous times a day for the following days afterward, even went over and to no avail nothing. Her roommate Harley had insisted she wasn’t there. That she had gone home to her parents.

  Vivian’s face lit up as she stepped forward into his welcoming arms. “Laird, you look well,” she greeted, stepping back and taking another look at him. “Well, except the brokenhearted look in your eyes. You need to go find that girl and smarten up, mister,” she ordered

  “Thank you, things are fine,” he assured, reaching for her belly. “Shit, I’m sorry, can I feel?” he asked, looking first at Jake then Vivian.

  Jake guffawed. “Don’t ask me. Pregnancy on this woman is scary and I have no say over who touches her belly,” he drawled, lightly kissing his wife on the cheek.

  Vivian giggled and took hold of Laird’s hand. “Here, he’s kicking over here.”

  Laird’s smile grew as he felt the little kicks. “Wow.” His heart sank. This was what he wanted with Layle. To feel this, to have this to share. He threw the thoughts away. What the hell was he thinking, there was no him and Layle. She was gone, and he had a feeling she would keep it that way.

  Jake chuckled, passing him. “Where’s this little one I’ve heard about…I was hoping to meet your Layle.”

  Laird shook his head, removing his hand from Vivian’s belly. “She won’t be here.” Unless a miracle happened and Lania had hunted his beauty down and dragged her here. He was pretty sure Layle wouldn’t come on her own accord.

  Jake looked over his shoulder at his good friend. “That’s not what Lania said,” he informed Laird as the three strolled through his overly roomy estate toward the back.

  Laird laughed. “Lania has enough problems of her own to be meddling. Layle will not be here, I can assure you that.”

  Vivian looped her arm through Jake’s and rested her head on his thick shoulder. “Who exactly is this Layle?” she asked, peeking over at Laird. Jake had been quiet on who this woman was or what she meant to Laird. Just that Laird had fallen deep. She needed to hear it from Laird’s mouth firsthand to hear he’d supposedly fallen deep.

  Laird smiled. “Little sub from the club.”

  Vivian smiled. “Thought you didn’t play with the subbies,” she teased. It was where she and Jake had met. In Laird’s club. Her eye, like every other woman there, had been on Laird. That was until she realized he was beyond what she would ever want. Jake now. Jake knew exactly what she wanted and needed. Laird was a sadist. She wasn’t a masochist. She was a submissive who liked a little spank and tickle. Jake was her match.

  Jake chuckled, all three looking back toward the front at the sound of the front doorbell. “We’ll meet you out back, Laird,” he assured, snuggling his wife close, leading her toward the back deck. Laird nodded and continued back to the front.

  Lania offered a mischievous smile. Her arm looped snugly through Layle’s. “You said I could bring anyone I wanted, so I did,” she offered sheepishly, dragging Layle through the front door past Laird.

  Chapter Twelve

  Layle peeked around the place. It was a palace. She peeked back over her shoulder at Laird. He still stood, a befuddled look on his face. “Had I known this was where you were taking me, I would have told you to shove it!” she mumbled. Shit, he had to be pissed to see her! Not once had she attempted to call and make sure he was okay. Harley had told her he’d been to the apartment numerous times. That he called daily. She inhaled a shaky breath. Three weeks since he’d saved her from those thugs, and this was how she repaid him. Ignore him then show up at his home like she was all that. Guilt filled her, she should leave. She tried to tug her arm from Lania’s grip.

  Lania giggled, tightening her grip on Layle, her other hand coming to rest over her well-endowed breasts. “Yes, I know. That’s why I said it the way I did. You know, have to attend stuffy picnic with brute that annoys the hell out of me?” she reminded her.

  Layle nearly smiled, and would have if it hadn’t been for the overwhelming feeling filtering through her at that moment. She shouldn’t be here. Laird would kick her out and there would be a big scene, and friends wouldn’t be friends, and oh God her heart wept. She peeked back at him, her heart crying out. She missed him, had missed him all these weeks. So many times she had driven here only to turn around and go back to her parents’ home. She couldn’t face him. Not after leaving him like the cowardly way she had.

  Jake and Vivian both stood and looked over Lania’s new pet. “What happened with Cal?” Vivian asked, blushing at her own rudeness.

  Lania smiled, pecking Layle on the temple. “I traded him in for this morsel of sweetness.”

  Layle looked at Lania, eyebrows scrunched. What the hell was Mistress Lania up to? Where was Cal? Why the fuck did she just kiss her on the temple like some little love toy?

  “She doesn’t take compliments too well,” Laird voiced from behind the group. His voice was strong and confident as ever.

  Layle glared at him. “Maybe that only applies to you, you…argh I don’t even know what to call you!” She tugged away from Lania. “I’m going home,” she grumbled, sidestepping the Amazonian goddess. And why the hell was she getting mad at Laird! He had nothing to do with her anger. But had everything to do with it. She wasn’t angry at him, though. She was angry with herself for deserting him. Shame filled her, and tears welled in her eyes. Emotions rolled through her and she didn’t want to be here at all. She didn’t deserve to be in the presence of this man. In the presence of his friends. He deserved so much more than her and all her baggage.

  Lania made a disapproving tsking sound. “Stop acting like a child, Mekaila. Laird was trying to help you and if you weren’t so blind, you would see that I am as well.”

  Layle stopped in her steps and turned back to the woman. She had loved being around Lania at one point, but now…She wanted to be halfway across the world away from her. She lifted her chin, narrowed her eyes, and took a step toward Lania. “I never asked for your help,” she replied calmly, turning on her heel and leaving the group of four.

  Jake released a whistle. “Wow…cute, spunky, and attitude. I’m thinking she needs a good spanking,” he replied, pouring his wife a tall glass of water.

  Vivian took it, taking hold of her husband’s hand and kissing his palm. “Thank you, my love,” she murmured softly, her eyes on his.

  Jake smiled, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Did you drive her here, Lania?” he asked, pulling his gaze away from his wife’s eyes.

  Lania grunted. “Yes,” she answered, annoyed. Great, now she would have to have an awkward, angry ride all the way back into the city with her. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

  Jake nodded, dipping and kissing his wife’s cheek. “Can I trust you not to scare these two while I have a chitchat with the little one?” he asked.

  Vivian giggled, laying a hand on her husband’s chest. “I promise not to scare them…If my water breaks, it’s your baby’s fault, not mine,” she sang, shooting Lania a playful look.

  Lania burst out in laughter. “Oh shit, Vivian, I missed you. No, Jake, you will not go take her home. I brought her. I will take her back and apologize. Swear she wanted to see him again. She’s been so mopey.” She’d run into Layle numerous times over the last two weeks. Had heard from the grapevine that the two lovers hadn’t talked since the masquerade ball and shit, she was concerned for her good friend Laird. He deserved happiness, and when she saw him with Layle she saw happiness.

  Jake shook his head. “Nope. I want to have a word with this little one.” He glanced at Laird. The man was in a baffled state. Shit, he had never seen his friend so lost. “Laird, be weary of the pregnant one. Her mood swings will give you whiplash,” he joked, passing his good friend. Under normal circumstances he w
ould have gotten his friend’s approval, but circumstances weren’t normal by any means. Laird was in love and the ass wouldn’t come to terms with it. And this Layle woman was an obvious mess of emotional upheaval who needed to be set straight.

  Layle sighed as she neared the end of the driveway. Who would have thought Laird was this loaded. She stopped and looked around the area. Perfectly manicured lawns expanded out to beautifully placed shrubbery, and that house, correction, mansion was gorgeous. Just like him, elegant and foreboding. She grunted, continuing on her walk eyeing the security guard at the thick iron gates.

  “Ma’am?” greeted the security guard. A confused look on his face.

  “I want out,” she ordered.

  The man eyed her. “Where is your escort, Mistress Lania?” he asked.

  Lania eyed the man up and down. She could take him, she knew that, and she would if he didn’t shut the fuck up and let her out. “Open the gates or I’ll do it myself,” she ordered, not taking her eyes off him.

  The man smiled, a questioning eyebrow rising as he looked her up and down.

  Layle glared at him, her insides recoiling at the hum of a very masculine vehicle approaching from behind her. She could only guess it was the muscle car that had been parked at the front doors of Laird’s mansion.

  Jake released a sharp whistle. “Layle, get in the car,” he ordered, eyeing her and the guard as they sized each other up.

  Layle narrowed her eyes on the guard. “Next time I ain’t going to play. I will take you down and you will apologize for your rudeness,” she ordered, stepping away from him, making sure to keep her eyes on him as she opened the car door and settled in. She looked at Jake. “You must be Jake. Lania wouldn’t shut up about you,” she grumbled.

  Jake nodded. “Yes, the lovely woman back at the manor was my wife, Vivian. She was looking forward to meeting you,” he informed her, revving the Camaro’s engine.