Page 21 of Claimed (The Captain’s Captive #2)

Trish didn’t know what to think. She glanced at the big man seated next to her, his hand wrapped firmly around hers, and was frightened.

Jordan stilled her hand as the hover-car began to move, although he talked through his earpiece to someone in one of the other cars.

There were six other vehicles, filled with the Wolf’s soldiers, heading out with her and Jordan.

She hadn’t been told anything. She had no idea what was going on; all Trish knew was she was leaving the compound for the first time since she’d been taken.

And she didn’t want to.

It was a startling and fairly frightening realization.

Trish felt safe in the compound. Everyone watched out for her, even when Jordan wasn’t around.

Everyone cared for her. She had actual friends, who waved to her in the hallway, chatted with her at mealtime, and never once looked at her with pity because she was an orphan, or contempt because she wasn’t rich.

They’d all come from different places, different backgrounds, and yet they’d come together, and none of that had mattered.

It had been completely different from the way she’d grown up on the Moon, where background and family status had been all that had mattered.

Even winning a scholarship to Earth had been seen as a reason for derision because anyone who’d mattered wouldn’t have needed such a thing.

Trish had told herself she’d gotten used to the demands Jordan had put on her body—the pain and pleasure; the punishment and rewards—but the truth was she’d started to like it.

Leaving the compound made her start to worry that this time in her life was over, though Jordan hadn’t said so. Trish couldn’t imagine him taking her on something dangerous … but would he take this many people if he were going to get rid of her somehow?

Jordan felt Trish’s tension and squeezed her hand. He’d been gratified by her reluctance to leave the compound that morning. She hadn’t looked happy when he’d told her they’d be going.

As the car moved through the Wolf’s neighborhoods—his territory surrounding the compound—Jordan pressed a finger to his earpiece, putting him through to Paul, who had eyes on the target. “Is everything in place?”

“They just arrived at the museum, right on schedule.”

“Good, we’re on our way for pick-up. Any concerns we should be aware of?”

“They have a team of ten guards, four of which are undercover and pretending like they’re no such thing.”

Jordan snorted derisively.

Fucking overconfident Moonies.

They’d published their schedule, had a pathetic amount of guards, and—knowing them—hadn’t hired anyone competent. Paul would have been able to spot most undercovers anyway, but still. “I mean real concerns.”

Paul chuckled. “No.”

“Okay, good. We’ll be there soon.”

Jordan pressed the earpiece to disconnect, and his adrenaline started to flow with the excitement of a mission.

This wouldn’t be a difficult mission, at least it shouldn’t be, but there was an element of danger.

He’d never captured anyone like this. Normally they used stealth or bait to take the Wolf’s captives, who were usually unguarded, but the Wolf had decided he wanted this capture to be a statement.

Beside Jordan, Trish squirmed anxiously and looked scared. While he liked her a little anxious, Jordan didn’t want to see her scared. He laid his hand down on her thigh and gripped her with his fingers as he looked at her.

“Calm down, baby,” he said softly, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

To his pleasure, Trish relaxed at his words, trusting them. She still looked anxious, though.

“Where are we going?” she whispered, her eyes sliding across to the other soldiers in the car. They sat in front of her and Jordan with their backs to them and weren’t paying any attention, so Jordan decided to distract her in the easiest way he knew.

His fingers began to caress her inner thigh, sliding up the soft skin of her leg as he answered her. “I have to make a pick-up for the Wolf.”

Her skirt began to raise as his fingers quested further up her thighs, seeking her pussy.

“Spread,” he ordered, giving her a warning look not to argue. If she did, he would pull away because that would mean she didn’t want him touching her with others in the car, even if they weren’t watching … but she bit her lip, and her thighs parted a little more. It was enough.

His fingers slid into her folds, and Jordan smiled as he found them wet.

Her breath came in little, heaving pants, and her nipples pressed against the front of her dress.

So, his babygirl didn’t like being watched by a large audience or even those she didn’t know well, but she was excited by the presence of others who weren’t watching.

Perhaps she liked the danger of being caught?

Maybe the idea that one of the soldiers might turn around at any moment and see Jordan with his fingers in her pussy turned her on?

Jordan dipped his fingers between her folds and dragged them through her slit, gathering her cream and spreading it around her pussy lips, up to her clit, which swelled beneath his touch.

Trish whimpered and tried to stay quiet as he played with her pussy, feeling the heat and slick wetness growing.

It was unfortunate he didn’t have enough time to make her come … but was squirming and distracted, and he liked that nearly as much.

Jordan saw the museum coming up and slid his hand from between her legs to hold his fingers up to her lips.

Sexual frustration flashed in Trish’s big, blue eyes as she realized he didn’t mean to finish, but she opened her lips to receive his fingers anyway, and her little, pink tongue cleaned her cream off of his digits.

The hover-car landed, and the frustration grew in her eyes as Trish pressed her legs together. He liked her aching for him.

Trish blinked and recognized where they were: it was a museum. One she’d visited before she’d been taken. Jordan pulled her inside, her hand firmly clasped in his.

The Wolf’s soldiers followed behind them and spread out through the crowd. Most of the Wolf’s people were dressed as civilians, including Jordan, although if anyone thought he was a regular guy—with his height, muscles, and fluid way of moving—they’d be an idiot.

Slinging one heavy arm around her shoulders, Jordan tucked Trish into his body and kept her pressed close by his side as they entered the museum.

It didn’t take her more than a few minutes to realize Jordan wasn’t looking at any of the exhibits, although he did stop in front of several for a minute before moving on.

Trish looked at the first few, but Jordan had some destination, some goal, in mind, and she found herself becoming too nervous to pay attention to the exhibits. Instead, her gaze began to dart around the room, and she shifted her weight restlessly.

What was he looking for?

“Stay still and look at the painting, or I’ll spank you the entire ride home,” Jordan ordered when Trish began to become too antsy. Maybe he should have given her an orgasm in the hovercar instead of leaving her on edge but he’d thought the sexual frustration would be more distracting to her.

He probably shouldn’t have brought her at all, but he’d thought she’d enjoy the Museum. Plus, he didn’t like the idea of pretending to be part of a couple with anyone else; it felt wrong, somehow, and everyone had paired into couples for this mission.

The guards would find groups more threatening than separated couples wandering around the museum.

The entire force was made up of a mixed bag of soldiers and civilians to help them blend even more.

Across the hall, Jordan spotted Vaughn and Matthew, cuddled around each other as they looked up at a sculpture.

They looked completely involved in the art, and were doing a much better job of being inconspicuous than Trish currently was.

After the threat of being spanked, she’d settled a little but, as they moved deeper into the museum, she kept looking around at the people instead of the exhibits. Jordan was torn between finding it adorable and being frustrated.

In many ways, Trish was the perfect cover.

She was so small and delicate-looking that people’s eyes glanced over Jordan because they saw a normal couple: a large, possessive partner and a smaller, more vulnerable partner.

They would look at him and Trish and assume he was there to please her.

At least, they would as long as Trish looked involved in the exhibits.

So, every time he caught her sneaking another look around, he added a minute of spanking to her tally, making her flush and then pale.

She snuggled in closer to him and tried to focus on the exhibits. By the time they reached the artifacts of Ancient Egypt, Jordan had her up to seven minutes of being spanked on the ride home. That was also the room where he caught the first glimpse of his prey.

Murmurs in his earpiece told him everyone else was getting into position, too.

Those who had come with civilian partners sent them back to their rendezvous points, each with a guard in case someone put them together with the person they’d been walking around with.

Not that Jordan put much faith in the Moonie guards to do so.

“Wait till you see these idiots,” Paul’s voice murmured in his ear, just before the target group came into view.

Jordan nearly laughed.

The targets, Ken and Lisa, stood with their six incredibly obvious bodyguards arranged around them. The guards were heavily muscled in a way that said they’d earned their bulk in a gym rather than fighting, and had weapons bulging against their athletic clothing.