Page 47 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
"What … the shit have you been up to in here?" Weston grins, entering from the doorway that leads to the living quarters. He’s dressed casually in sweats and a T-shirt, with his arm in a sling to protect his gunshot wound.
"West," I exclaim. "Thank fuck! Can you untie me, please?"
The tall, Asian man stands beside the altar for a while, running his eyes over me like he’s considering not letting me go, before tugging on a few cords and magically freeing me.
"Thank you," I sigh, unwrapping the silken cord from my limbs and shaking out some stiffness.
"What happened to the old broad?" he asks, jerking his head toward Hawke who’s still counting out compressions on the woman's chest.
"Uh, I think she walked in while Hawke and Arsen were fucking me in their priest robes," I admit, not even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It was fucking epic sex, nothing to be ashamed of there!
"She had a heart attack," Hawke informs us, grunting as he keeps his rhythm.
I frown. "Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"
"Can't." Weston shakes his head and passes me my panties from off the angel’s head. "It'd risk blowing our cover. Besides, I'm pretty sure she's a goner, Hawke."
Hawke sighs, sitting back and mopping sweat from his forehead with his robes. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure she is, too. Alright, go grab Colt for me. We’ll need to set her up to look like this happened in her own home."
"You got it, boss," Weston replies with a little mock salute before disappearing back the way he came.
"What do you need me to do?" I ask, sliding off the edge of the altar and dragging my sweatpants on. "Carry her bible or something?" I nudge the heavy book with my toe and realize that was the sound we'd heard at the end of my climax. The old nun must have dropped the book in shock.
"You don't seem in the least bit concerned about the presence of a dead woman," Hawke observes me with narrowed eyes. "Have you really seen so much death in your life that this doesn't affect you?"
I give a shrug. "Pretty much. So how can I help?"
Hawke sighs again. "Just go up to your room and take it easy. You'll be pretty sore from that training session today, and I expect you'll have one or two bruises coming up."
"I'm sure I will," I agree with a saucy sounding murmur. Hawke has his no-nonsense voice on, though, so I do as he tells me and head out of the church and up the stairs to my little room.
Once my door is closed, I strip out of my sweaty clothes and stand naked in front of the mirror. Hawke was right: my body’s already showing the shadows of multiple bruises from his fists, but the ones that make me smile are smaller. Fingerprint sized. On my thighs, my waist, my breasts, and darkest of all … around my neck.
I shiver as I remember the feeling of the ropes binding me, of Arsen's hand around my throat and Hawke’s pinning my thighs. I'm playing with fire, and I fucking love it.Chapter 13COLTI'm laughing so hard I have to dab at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt before looking back over at Hawke.
"You're kidding me," I say again, still not totally believing what I’m hearing.
"I wish I was," Hawke murmurs, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "Right as Natalia is coming for the third time, Sister Francis has a heart attack. If she hadn't dropped that huge fucking bible, we probably wouldn't have noticed, Natalia was screaming so loud."
I burst out in another peal of laughter. It’s too damn funny. I mean, shit about the nun dying—that's never ideal—but seriously … how long had she been standing there watching?
"So much for locking the door, huh boss?" Mace snickers from the backseat where he's strapped in beside Sister Frances' corpse.
Hawke growls. "I did lock the fucking door. Turns out, she had a key."
We all snicker at this one. What are the odds? That poor old woman would have had the fright of her life watching two "priests" fucking the stuffing out of a naked girl tied to the altar.
"Was it worth it though?" Mace asks with a faraway look on his face that makes me double take.
Hawke must see him in the mirror too, because he jerks a quick look at Mace over his shoulder. "You can't tell me you haven't …"
"Sure you have." I frown, turning in my seat to look at the big man. "You had that trip to the gun range, and we all know how hot it is to see a chick that can shoot. You want to tell us you didn't nail her in the Hummer?"
Mace gives me a weird look. Like he’s constipated or something, but I’m not getting it.
