Island Captive Collection

She needs protection along with a Dom’s discipline.

Explore two dangerous destinations with hot Doms in DeMarco’s Captive and Santiago’s Secret. 

DeMarco’s Captive

Determined to expose the cartel, American Agent Lucy Harrison goes undercover, only to get caught. A blown sting operation puts her life in danger and the man she had set eyes on sees right through her disguise.

Santiago’s Secret

Set up from the start, her best friend skips town, leaving a shed filled with cocaine and Mary to deal with the aftermath. With the drug cartel closing in, can Santiago keep her safe?

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Sample Chapter

Prologue

Special Agent Lucy Harrison sauntered along the streets of San Cristobal, drinking in all the sights and sounds just like a typical American tourist. The pretty blonde kept tilting her sunglasses to gawk at this and that. It was all an act, of course. But Lucy didn’t have to fake her admiring stares. All around her were gaudy little shops, vibrant with color. Throbbing drums stirred her blood, while the spicy smell of local cooking filled the air. For an ambitious young woman who spent most of her life chained to a desk, processing files in a windowless room, it was nice to get out of the office.

Unfortunately, Lucy didn’t have a week to spend lying on the golden beaches of the tiny island nation. She didn’t even have an afternoon to spend gawking and splurging in the local shops. Lucy was undercover, in the middle of her first real field assignment in ages. Right now, she was late for a drug deal.

Of course, being late for the meeting was just an extra, a dab of realistic acting on her part. Part of being undercover was that you took on an entirely new name and identity. Lucy didn’t stride down the street in a sensible suit like the ones she wore at the office. Instead, she strolled along in a skimpy red bikini with a see-through blouse thrown over her shoulders, carrying a big straw bag and wearing sunglasses and a floppy straw hat. She wasn’t Lucy Harrison, a highly disciplined law enforcement professional who always put the mission ahead of her own life. She was Lucky Harris, rich and spoiled, a silly party girl from Miami looking for a brand new drug connection.

And there he was, sitting at the central table of the small, open air café. The drug lord they called the Dragon was just as ugly and fearsome as the mythical fire-breathing beast. But Lucy wasn’t afraid of him. She had fifty thousand dollars in cash, tucked away in her big straw bag. But she also had a can of mace, as well as a tiny transmitter that would record the details of their negotiation. All she had to do was play her part, look pretty and stupid and ripe for the plucking. The greedy Dragon would take her stash of carefully marked money and set himself up for a major fall.

All of a sudden, Lucy’s casual steps dragged to a halt. Quickly, the slender blonde slipped behind a rack of colorful dresses on sidewalk sale, peeking out to confirm her first disbelieving glance. The Dragon had half a dozen muscle-bound men lounging around the café, clearly armed. But that didn’t matter. Lucy only had eyes for one skinny-looking fellow. He wasn’t the Dragon’s usual type, not a hard-hitting violent criminal. He was small time. In Miami, they called him the Weasel.

The Weasel was the one man in San Cristobal who would recognize Lucy at once, even in her silly tourist disguise. Her first major assignment had landed her in his club, when she was posing as a waitress in one of Miami’s seediest red-light districts. She’d been assigned to keep tabs on the Weasel, to catch him dealing drugs. But she’d blown her cover when she intervened to protect a terrified topless dancer from a drunken mobster who liked to beat up women for fun. She’d arrested the creep, and he’d gotten five years for assault. But the Weasel had seen the whole thing.

“Code Blue,” she hissed, pulling out her transmitter and trying desperately to get a signal. “Code Blue, mission compromised. I say again, mission compromised. God damn it, answer me!”

This was the problem with Uncle Sam trying to go it alone, without backup from the local government. Lucy’s communication device was supposed to put her in direct contact with a navy ship out in the harbor. But the authorities in San Cristobal had no idea she was here. Uncle Sam didn’t exactly trust the newly elected government, which meant that she couldn’t turn to the local police. And so when her communications failed, she was on her own.

Right at that moment, she caught sight of the Weasel saying something to the Dragon. Three or four of the biggest musclemen at the table stood up and began casually crossing the street. Lucy didn’t know if they’d spotted her. She didn’t even know if the Weasel had recognized her. But she had to get out of here. She had to get down to the beach and get out a signal that she was in trouble, that she’d been spotted, and the big meeting wasn’t going to happen.

Lucy slipped around the corner, quickening her steps but trying hard not to run. She wasn’t sure she was being followed, but she didn’t dare turn around to look. Just a few blocks and she would be down at the beach, where there were tons of tourists, people swimming and boats for rent. She was certain no-one would try to kill her on a crowded beach!

The horrible thing was that as she hurried along, hampered by her silly tourist get-up and nearly tripping in her ridiculous beach sandals, she began to wonder if she’d blown it once again. Maybe the Weasel hadn’t seen her. Maybe the skinny man at the table wasn’t even the man she remembered from Miami. In a way, Lucy was almost grateful that her communications weren’t working, that no-one had received her first panic-stricken call. If she got back to the ship, she could just tell her handlers to arrange some sort of diversion to get the Weasel out of the way. Then, in a few days, she could meet with the Dragon as planned. She didn’t want to let the drug lord get away. She didn’t want to blow two field assignments in a row.

“Hey, can I rent a boat, please?” Lucy hated the fact that she was scurrying back to the ship, like a terrified two-year-old running to mama’s arms in the middle of a thunderstorm. It was hours before her scheduled pickup. But as the tiny outboard motor roared to life, she glanced over her shoulder and saw exactly what she had been running from all along. It wasn’t her imagination. The big bruisers from the café were walking around the beach looking for her. At least they didn’t seem to notice her frantic escape in the tiny, puttering motorboat. There were a lot of pretty American women in bikinis lying on the beach. The thugs seemed to be more interested in looking at them.

Lucy turned her craft in the direction of the U.S. Naval ship, which was no more than a long, gray shape on the horizon. It took a few moments for her to realize that there was actually quite a current, and it was pushing her back towards the beach she had just escaped from. Cursing, she struggled to push herself back on course, but the tiny little engine sputtered and coughed as if it had a terrible case of the flu. Swearing like an old-time sailor, a frustrated Lucy slipped into a sideways course, riding with the current and away from the crowds and excitement of San Cristobal itself.

Before long, she was well out into the blue waters of the bay, but it seemed the current was still pushing her towards the opposite shore. The terrain here was wild and beautiful, very inviting, yet seemingly untouched by man. Lucy was always very thorough in her research, and she knew that most of this land was owned by a reclusive billionaire named Sebastian DeMarco. DeMarco’s grandfather had been a ruthless dictator who ruled the entire island with an iron fist. In those days, drug dealers were dealt with most severely, sometimes with public beheadings. Of course, that didn’t apply to the ones who paid the dictator off and helped him build his many glittering palaces. No wonder Uncle Sam bent the rules down here in San Cristobal!

But the younger DeMarco had distanced himself from all that. He was said to be a major behind-the-scenes player in the new reform-minded government and very critical of the United States. Yet he steadfastly refused to assume a high-profile role in the reform process. Was he ashamed of his grandfather’s dark deeds? Or was he biding his time for a power grab of his own?

Lucy didn’t know the answer, but she was definitely intrigued. Sebastian DeMarco might be friend or foe, but he definitely lived in style. By now, she could actually see the huge white DeMarco mansion facing the bay. Looking up at all that splendor, she took her eyes off the waves and was totally unprepared for the splintering crash as her tiny boat ran aground on the rocks near shore.

“No! No, no, no!” She had blown it for real this time, her career and maybe her life as well. Lucy was crying as she abandoned the sinking craft, realizing that her own mistakes had done her in. Suddenly, the face of her favorite weapons training instructor came back to her. She remembered the night after graduation, how the two of them had shared a drink in a seedy Quantico bar. It was the one time when crusty old Mac had lowered his guard and even given her a bit of personal advice.

“Don’t kid yourself, beautiful, disaster will strike. You’ll make mistakes and you’ll be scared. But that’s exactly when you have to take charge. Make every mistake look like part of the plan.”

She had to take charge now. Though still in tears, Lucy scrambled onto a nearby rock, grabbing both her straw bag and her communications device. She had to get out one last message before she ditched her gear beneath the waves. “Code Green,” she gasped. Her signal was weak, broken up by the rocky cliffs. But Lucy refused to panic. “Code Green! I say again, Code Green!”

The tiny device crackled, hissing nothing but static. Then at last, a male voice said, “Roger that, agent. We copy Code Green. I say again, we copy Code Green. Good luck!”

Code Green was very different from Code Blue. It meant she was going into deep cover and not to interfere, under any circumstances. It meant she was on her own. And it also meant that she wasn’t sensible Lucy Harrison any longer. From now on, she was Lucky all the way.

Chapter One

Lucky knew she was in trouble the moment she laid eyes on the man. Getting close to Sebastian DeMarco was the key to getting what she wanted. But the tall, dark lord of the island looked her bikini-clad body up and down with anger and irritation instead of attraction and desire.

“I’m afraid there’s been some mistake, Miss Harris,” the proud billionaire said stiffly. His starkly handsome features were a portrait of suspicion, his piercing dark eyes openly skeptical. Maybe the manicured landscape was warm and welcoming, but the man was icy and forbidding. His cheekbones were so high and so clearly defined, they could give you a paper cut. “The Island of San Cristobal is not open to the general public. This is my home, my private residence.”

“More like a private palace!” Lucky lifted a large, round pair of sunglasses from her snub nose and gave the red-roofed, white-painted Moorish mansion a hungry appraisal. Eighty rooms, an outdoor swimming pool, tall palm trees and flowering bushes. There were full-size statues, too, mostly Greek gods in marble. They were classy and sexy, but cold, just like the man in front of her.

“Yes, but it is my palace. You are trespassing on private property!” Sebastian was a man who always kept a very tight rein on his emotions. He’d dealt with greedy females before, countless times. So why did his pulse seem to pick up a notch when the cute blonde in the skimpy bikini tilted her cheap sunglasses to gawk at his family home? He had been too long without a woman. That was all. The nosy American girl didn’t even have that much of a figure. She was a skinny thing, with a sensible short haircut that was strictly tomboyish. Yet her close-cropped head of wheat-blonde hair shone like gold in the tropical sunlight. And when she took off her dark shades, he got a look at her blue eyes, and it made him catch his breath. Yes, he had definitely been too long without a woman.

“Do you really live in this massive mausoleum all by yourself? Talk about lonely splendor!”

Those blue eyes again, putting his heartbeat into overdrive. But his mind insisted that there was nothing sweet or appealing in those big baby blue eyes that were so full of childish wonder one minute and womanly sympathy the next. This woman simply wanted an entrée into his private world. All she needed was an opening, a chance to discover his secrets and exploit his weaknesses.

A chance to hurt him as Olivia had.

“As a matter of fact, my grandmother is currently here on a visit. She is seventy years old, and her health is delicate. That is why you must leave at once. That is why you must go back to the beach, climb back into your rented motorboat, and go back to the mainland where you belong!”

“All right, be a total dick about it. I know when I’m not wanted.” Lucky tilted her chin at a defiant angle, letting her big, round sunglasses fall back into place. Of course, they were standing very close together, nose to nose, so when she tilted her chin, her lips were perfectly positioned for a kiss. Lucky Harris didn’t do subtle. And she didn’t believe in backing away from a challenge. Not ever.

Sebastian DeMarco didn’t take the bait, even though his dark eyes flickered dangerously. That low voice of his was like the snarl of a hungry wolf, sending shivers up and down her bare arms. “If I were truly a total dick, as you so elegantly put it, you would be exactly what I wanted.”

“Huh?” Lucky didn’t quite get that last bit, though the lord of the island was looking her up and down in a way that brought the blood rushing to her cheeks. Maybe he didn’t think she was so horrible to look at after all. But before she could do anything more dramatic than dropping her jaw and gawking at him like she’d never seen a man before, Lucky discovered that they had an audience.

“Sebastian, darling! Why didn’t you tell me we had a guest for dinner? You know how bored I’ve been these past few days, with only Octavia for company and no new faces at the dinner table.”

“I’m not a guest…I mean, my boat hit a rock…I mean…” Lucky was an experienced liar, and she was usually pretty fast on her feet in these situations. But something about the classy old lady in the wheelchair just shut her right up. It wasn’t that she felt sorry for the fragile older woman. The silver-haired lady held her head up high, like she was a queen. Lucky sensed right away that she was the real thing. Only a real scumbag would even think of lying to her or taking advantage of her.

Lucky hadn’t done anything wrong. But she felt guilty as hell just standing there and smiling. And from the way the old lady’s grandson was looking at her, you’d think she was busted already.

“I wanted Miss Harris to be a total surprise, Grandmother,” Sebastian said smoothly. “She’s on vacation from America. We met on the beach, earlier today. Her motorboat broke down, and she was left stranded on our shores. So I offered to give her a personal tour of our little island paradise.”

“Yes, yes, that’s exactly how it happened.” Lucky bobbed her head up and down, flashing a million-dollar smile at the nice lady while feeling like a complete idiot. Was Sebastian playing her? All of a sudden, those icy black eyes of his were warm enough to melt the polar ice cap. His voice was as warm and reassuring as the powerful paw he’d just slipped around her shoulders.

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to unbend a little, Sebastian dear. A very wise Greek once said that all the world’s strangers are merely friends we haven’t yet met. Don’t you agree, Miss Harris?”

“Yes, totally! Sebastian and I are definitely strangers. I mean, we just met a few hours ago. I mean we’re not dating or anything like that. But please, call me Lucky!”

“Of course I will, dear. The name suits you even better than that sexy little bikini. My name is Lady Eleanor Hampton-Wallis, by the way. My daughter, Beryl, was married to Sebastian’s father, Victor. He was a doctor, a very remarkable man, though ridiculously formal. The poor man always called me the English lady or ‘La Senora Inglese!’ But when I’m with friends, I much prefer Lady Nora, or simply Nora. Nora suits me better, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Lady Eleanor! I mean, yes, Nora suits you, Lady Nora.” Lucky blushed, digging her toes into the soft green grass. She wished she weren’t standing around in a bikini, lying to a classy old lady while her gorgeous grandson held onto her in a grip that was as tight as a pair of handcuffs.

The English lady was confined to a wheelchair, but her eyes were sharp and clear. Her keen, gray-eyed gaze swept over Lucky, taking in everything from burning cheeks to squirming toes. “And speaking of things that suit you, my dear, wouldn’t you like to get out of that bikini and into a nice hot bath? I’m sure we can find you something suitable to wear for dinner. Octavia, why don’t you show the young lady upstairs?”

“Octavia needs to stay with you, Grandmother,” Sebastian said, indicating the bulky, black-clad woman planted behind Lady Eleanor’s wheelchair. Though he had remained silent all through the old lady’s cheerful greetings, he effortlessly reasserted his authority now. “Remember, Nana, Octavia has the garden all set up for your usual open-air massage. You know how it helps you to unwind, and you also know that it’s nearly time for your afternoon nap. I’ll take Lucky upstairs.”

“Thanks, I’m really grateful! Totally grateful…” Lucky couldn’t squeak out more than a few words of thanks to the old lady, before Sebastian’s hand clamped down hard on the tender flesh of her upper arm. He dragged her down the white gravel path, through the open French doors and into the cool darkness of the luxurious mansion.

“Now, suppose you tell me what you’re really doing here?” Sebastian hissed into her ear as they climbed the broad marble staircase together. The warm and tender routine had been an act. Sebastian’s hand was still on her arm, but it was really like being in cuffs. The moment they were out of the old lady’s sight he became his true self, suspicious and dangerous.

“I told you, I rented a boat and I got caught in the current and…” Lucky was momentarily spellbound by the huge portrait frowning down on her from the top of the landing. It was a dark, brutal looking man in a general’s uniform, his chest completely covered with flashy gold medals.

“My grandfather,” Sebastian explained. “He was a true tyrant, selfish, dishonest and corrupt. But he had ways of dealing with people who lied to him. As do I, Miss Lucky Harris. As do I.”

“Gulp!” Lucky was scared already, and she couldn’t help wondering if she was in over her head. But her frightened gulp turned into a shriek of alarm when big-muscled Sebastian turned savage and bent her right over the low marble bench at the top of the stairs!

“Please don’t kill me!” she shrieked, getting dizzy from all the blood rushing to her head. She wasn’t in much danger of falling, because there was an iron railing between the bench and the drop. Besides, Sebastian had a firm grip on her lower back, pressing down with one big paw and keeping her steady while he spanked her butt with the other. Still, having a perfect view of a fifty foot fall didn’t calm her nerves. Lucky closed her eyes, and gripped the iron railing with both hands. Down on her knees, with her ass cheeks about to get the full treatment from a dark, handsome and dominating male, she heard herself babbling the world’s phoniest confession. “Please listen, please! I swear I’m not here to make trouble. I was just looking to meet this guy, they call him the Dragon. I heard he’s got millions of dollars stashed away from the old days, when he had like a drug empire. I was hoping he could stake me to the money to open a sexy dance club here, like the one I used to run in the states. I’m not a drug dealer, really! But I do love to party and I have a ton of rich friends in Miami.”

“Liar!” Sebastian brought his hand down hard, smacking her pert, upturned bottom. The sting was incredibly sharp and painful as she was only wearing a bikini bottom, and it barely covered her butt crack. “You didn’t come here, to my home, looking to make a drug deal. You’re here because you want to make your money the old-fashioned way. What are you really selling, Miss Lucky?”

“I’m not… ow! I’m not selling anything! I just got lost, and… ow! Somehow, I ended up here, washed up on the shore, totally by chance. I swear I don’t want to hurt you or your grandmother. I think she’s amazing and…ow! I think she really likes me.”

“I think so too.” The spanking stopped just as unexpectedly as it started. Sebastian DeMarco was dangerous all right. Dangerous and unpredictable. Suddenly, Lucky was being jerked upright, nose to nose, and staring into a pair of incredibly dark, hypnotic brown eyes. “If you want to play games, Miss Lucky, play them with me. But don’t hurt Lady Nora. Not ever. Understand?”

“Yeah…I mean, yes. Yes, I understand.” Lucky said the words, but her mind was a blank. She was afraid, but she couldn’t move. Sebastian was so big and strong and powerful. So male. Her mind was blank, but her butt was burning like a five-alarm fire.

“Good!” Sebastian DeMarco clearly approved of her mesmerized state. “We serve dinner at eight, Miss Harris. In the meantime, I suggest you go to your room and rest. My grandmother likes lively conversation at dinner.”

“All right,” Lucky muttered. Her brain was still on auto-pilot. She kept gazing into those deep dark eyes, unable to make the next move. Finally, her gaze dropped down to that dangerous mouth.

Big mistake.

Sebastian pulled her into his arms, and planted a kiss on her lips that made her toes curl. Heat and hunger combined with a teasing, caressing sense of mastery. This DeMarco had her number, all right. For all his fierce discipline, this was a man who took his time making love to a woman. He could make a single kiss last for hours.

Things were happening far too fast, yet somehow Lucky had the opposite impression. The movements of her own body were lazy, her reactions pleasurably languid. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. As Sebastian tightened his hold on her, her breasts pressed against his chest, and the honey-drugged sweetness of the pressure seemed to enfold her senses. Lucky felt as if she had all the time in the world. Yet she barely had time to lift her arms and wrap them around the muscled column of his neck, before he stepped back and smiled at her.

“We dine at eight,” Sebastian said again. This time he didn’t even bother to smile. He knew what that kiss had done to her. “Your room is down the hall. Try to get some rest before dinner.”

“Okay, I get it! You’re sending me to my room, so I can take a nap like a good little girl.” Lucky’s lips were buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. Humiliation burned her cheeks, the heat as sizzling as the soreness of her behind. Then something clicked, her brain finally putting two and two together. DeMarco had been sending a message. That heart-stopping kiss hadn’t been about attraction, not for him anyway. It was a message about who was in control.

“Your face is flushed,” Sebastian remarked. “Strange how a party girl from Miami can endure a spanking without complaint, yet when she is kissed, she reacts like a blushing schoolgirl.”

“You can stick Miami up your… up your marble staircase!” Lucky took off for her room like a rocket. But even as she ran, her big, floppy sandals clattering away on the black and gold tile, she couldn’t help realizing that she truly was DeMarco’s captive and that the next spanking might lead to something far more dangerous than a kiss.

* * *

Life in San Cristobal moved at a leisurely pace. An afternoon siesta was the rule for all, family and staff alike. Yet Sebastian DeMarco remained awake while those around him slept. Seated behind steel doors in his private security center, he briefly checked the video monitors. There was his grandmother, asleep in the shady garden, enjoying a respite from the pains of arthritis. And there was proud and ungovernable Miss Lucky Harris, pacing back and forth in her room, pointedly ignoring the invitation of the lace pillows and turned-down coverlets on the lavish bed.

The long-legged blonde with the boyish haircut and the fiery blue eyes was proving to be something of a puzzle. Sebastian couldn’t believe that she really was exactly who she said she was. Yet the more he dug into her past, effortlessly accessing her records from various government websites in the United States, the more everything seemed totally legitimate. Or rather, illegitimate.

All her life, Lucky had been in trouble with the law. The wild-child daughter of an old Palm Beach family, the girl clearly liked expensive things. But instead of working hard, she had partied hard, developing a taste for drugs and sex and alcohol when barely out of her teens. One arrest after another, mixed with spells in rehab. Occasionally, there were scams that didn’t pan out, inept and often dangerous attempts at blackmail and extortion to escape from her legal problems. One brief moment of respectability, when she announced that she was opening a trendy discotheque that would cater to Miami’s elite. Then the inevitable drug raid and Lucky disappeared from view.

But for a girl named Lucky, the Harris woman had certainly gotten caught a lot. Could anyone really be that astonishingly unlucky or that consistently corrupt? It all seemed too pat, too perfectly obvious to Sebastian. The documents he was reading just might have been planted. The next logical assumption was that Lucky herself was some kind of plant. Either the Dragon was following up on a very long-standing threat to take revenge on Sebastian, by infiltrating his stately home and then assassinating him, or the United States had sent one of their usual bumbling undercover agents to try and gather evidence that he had taken the Dragon’s place as the unchallenged leader of the San Cristobal underworld.

But neither of those theories really satisfied him. The Dragon’s people couldn’t have faked Lucky’s ridiculously long rap sheet. And none of his female killers could have faked that exasperating mixture of wide-eyed innocence and angry defiance. No, the slim, golden-haired tomboy with the clear blue eyes might be running from the Dragon, but she wasn’t working for him.

As far as the other theory went, Lucky Harris was the All-American type as far as looks went. But that didn’t really prove she was an American agent. A much better clue was her self-discipline, her ability to endure punishment without complaint. Unwillingly, Sebastian recalled the feeling of having her firm, taut derriere under his hand, the satisfaction of hearing her cries and watching the smooth white skin of her lovely bottom slowly flush an angry deep crimson. She’d submitted in a way that excited and intrigued him, her manner suggesting total acceptance yet total independence. When he glanced at the video monitor, and saw her still pacing back and forth, he understood why she was so reluctant to sit down. But there was no reason not to lie down on the comfortable bed.

And there was no reason an undercover agent would fabricate an identity that was so obviously sleazy and dishonest. Why pretend to be someone that no man in his right mind would trust? Sebastian felt sure that the real Lucky Harris would never have submitted to that spanking, not without an endless flood of tears and complaints. And while the sleazy Miami party girl might well have responded to what came after the spanking, the direct and unmistakable invitation of his kiss, she would never have blushed or retreated in fiery confusion afterwards.

Remembering that kiss, Sebastian felt a hot, wild surge of desire, surprising in its intensity. It was a shockingly primitive impulse he chose to identify only as angry impatience. He wanted to go to the American woman’s room right now and shake the truth out of her. He wanted her to stop that pacing, lie down on that wide soft bed, and spread her long, tanned legs wide for him. He wanted…

Just then, someone banged loudly on the locked steel door.

“Ah, my old friend Juan! Please come in.” Sebastian grinned at the squat, dark-skinned fisherman, his dark eyes shining with genuine affection. “Did you make the dive as I requested?”

“Yes, senor.” The native fisherman glanced around the high-tech security center, clearly out of his element. Juan and his people had been fishing the deep waters since long before Columbus. “Just as you said, Senor Sebastian, I dove down deep and looked for the boat. It was there, just where the young lady said it would be. There was a big hole in the bottom, made by the rocks. Nobody can come ashore at that place, not without an accident. But I did not see any other cargo in the boat, nothing that belonged to the young lady. The current must have carried everything away.”

“Yes, well I expect all the boys to keep diving. Keep looking. And thank you, my friend.” Sebastian watched the simple native fisherman depart, a thoughtful look on his chiseled features. Some of Lucky’s wild story had obviously been true. Piloting her craft so recklessly onto the rocks, she must have been running from something. But what fool would request a meeting with the deadly Dragon on his own territory? Her mad plan to ask for money from him was nothing short of suicidal. Had the drug lord ordered his men to kill her on the spot, or inflict some more degrading torture? And even if she had somehow managed to steal a boat and escape, why were all her clothes so conveniently missing, along with every form of personal identification?

When he turned back to the video monitor, a slow smile softened his stern, sensual mouth. Lucky Harris was asleep on the bed, unaware that Sebastian DeMarco always uncovered the truth. With the touch of a button, he took a still picture to be used later for identification purposes.

* * *

Lucky couldn’t believe she had slept so long. She had only meant to rest for a minute or two while she planned her next move. Of course, the huge bed with the gold satin sheets was ridiculously comfortable, even if she did have to wiggle onto her tummy to avoid any painful reminder of Sebastian DeMarco’s hard hand on her bottom. When she closed her eyes, she kept reliving that embarrassing scene at the top of the stairs. There she was, bent over that bench, with the darkly handsome billionaire spanking her just like a child. She could see his broad shoulders flexing and hear the noisy echoes of every hard stroke, feel her upturned bottom getting redder and redder.

But instead of making her angry, the humiliating images seemed to arouse her to an insane degree. She just couldn’t resist the urge to touch herself, moving back and forth on the smooth satin sheets. Before she knew it, the climax was coming on hard, jolting her with wild intensity. It was like an earthquake. When it was over, she went bye-bye, just like a baby.

As she rolled over on her back, the undercover agent welcomed the sting of her sore buttocks. She needed to wake up! Even after a nap, she was still sluggish from all that sex play. It was time to get her head back into the game. Sebastian DeMarco hadn’t bought her story. The spanking made that much obvious. Yet he hadn’t kicked her out of his lavish mansion or turned her over to the Dragon and his men. Who was the real power on San Cristobal? If she stayed here long enough, could she uncover the answer?

Lucky folded her slim white hands behind her head, gazing thoughtfully into the darkness. She’d been out for hours, and night had come to the island of San Cristobal. There were night birds calling to each other in the dense foliage, and the rich, heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine drifted through her open window. Hard to believe there was a hot, noisy, crowded city full of tourists just across the bay. This side of San Cristobal was very different. So far away from it all…

“Miss Lucky?” The soft voice on the other side of the door sounded timid, almost shy. Nevertheless the light, quick knock came again, more urgently this time. “Miss Lucky, are you awake? It is time to get ready for dinner.”

“Dinner? Huh?” Lucky barely remembered where she was. She lifted her head from the pillow just as a couple of smiling young girls entered the room. One of them flicked a light switch and soft, golden light filled the guest room, illuminating a huge walk-in closet, wide picture windows and the doorway to an enormous private bath. The undercover agent knew perfectly well that her bedroom suite was really a prison, but she hadn’t realized how lavish it all was until now.

“Sorry, I guess I fell asleep for a little while.” Lucky sat up in bed, pushing her short golden hair back from her face and childishly rubbing sleep from her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“My name is Valencia, and this is my sister Veronica.”

“Oh, I get it.” Lucky grinned, her wits coming back to life. “Big V and Little V.”

The older girl held back a smile, while her little sister giggled. “We will help you into a bath, and then we will help you dress for dinner.” The Big V did most of the talking. She was clearly a take-charge type, though her big brown eyes were kind, and her old-fashioned manners very formal. Both girls were small, dark and dressed like the native girls in the little fishing village she had spotted earlier from her window.

“Thanks,” Lucky said gruffly, easing off the enormous bed. She was usually a two-minute shower type, but San Cristobal clearly had its own rules. She spent plenty of time in a hot bath, keeping her eyes closed and trying not to offend her two helpers by insisting on scrubbing her own back or shampooing her own hair. Both girls were very impressed by her sensible work haircut, chattering enthusiastically while they worked foaming, fragrant lather into her short, golden hair.

“Now, we will help you into your dress,” the older girl told her excitedly. “This will look so lovely on you!”

“Did Lady Eleanor pick it out for me?” Lucky had to admit the white dress laid out carefully on the bed was more enticing than she expected. She had assumed Sebastian’s grandmother would send up something for her to wear, and she had been dreading a frilly prom dress. This was different. The blouse was sexy, sure, with the plunging neck revealing her cleavage in daring fashion. But the broad strips of white silk coming down from her shoulders covered her breasts and hooked right into the floor-length white skirt, which was slit just enough to give her a bit of sex appeal while maintaining her modern look of cool independence. Lucky completed the ensemble with long, gold pendant earrings and a studded gold bracelet she found in the rosewood box on her dressing table.

“Olivia’s jewelry suits you so well, Miss Lucky,” cried the younger of the two girls.

“Who’s Olivia?” Lucky asked, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. At home, she just went with a little eyeliner and the faintest blue blush on her eyelids. Tonight, she was more daring, making her mouth crimson and outlining her eyes in a way that suggested a vampy Cleopatra.

“Senor Sebastian’s wife,” the older girl explained. “But do not worry. She was a bad woman, and she has been dead for a long time. Ever since Senor Sebastian threw her from the cliff!”

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