The Smuggler

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The Smuggler Page 8

by Leslie Georgeson


  I wouldn’t deserve anything.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Grace

  Tony returned at eleven o’clock that night. He wasn’t alone. Alissa and Nate were with him, along with four other guys, two of whom I recognized as the dregs who had been with Tony at the bar last night.

  They all filed into my apartment, an impressive group of handsome, intimidating men.

  Dregs.

  Alissa hugged me, then stepped back.

  I glanced at Tony, and our gazes locked. Heat swept through me, settling deep in my core. My pulse raced. I couldn’t deny I was eager for the next round with him, ready to continue the battle once more.

  I’d missed him since he’d left earlier that day, which surprised me. The man was so dark and dangerous. So mysterious. An enigma. Hot one moment. Cold the next. I’d missed the way we’d sparred back and forth, our wills combating each other. I’ll admit I’d been afraid of him in the beginning, especially right after he’d escaped and then caught me. Even now, he elicited a certain amount of fear in me. I wanted to believe that if Tony was going to hurt me, he would have done so while he’d had me handcuffed to the bed. But I wasn’t certain of that. The man was impossible to read. His face expressionless. His eyes dark and impenetrable. Whoever had said eyes were the windows to the soul hadn’t met Tony. The man was a master at hiding his emotions. Did he even have emotions? I’d gotten good at reading people for my job. When interrogating a suspect, I’d learned how to read body language and watch eyes and facial expressions for signs of lying. But Tony was a closed book. What made the man tick?

  The sexual tension that was between us hovered close to the surface now, ready to explode the moment we were alone. I’d never felt this deep, overwhelming attraction to a man before. I’d thought about him all day, wondering what it would be like to actually have sex with him. Would it be as explosive as I imagined? Would he hurt me? I couldn’t deny it any longer. I wanted him. Badly. I would give myself to him. Willingly. He wouldn’t even have to free Teresa and Camille for it. That’s how badly I wanted him.

  A throat cleared loudly, jerking me out of my thoughts. Shite! I was staring at Tony like an eejit! Like I said, I didn’t blush. But heat swept into my face, turning it—I’m sure—a bright red. For some reason, around Tony, I blushed.

  Tony’s gaze darkened. Did he know what I’d been thinking? Was he as anxious to be alone with me as I was to be alone with him? Was that lust in his eyes or something else?

  Someone snickered—the blond guy from last night.

  I pulled my gaze to him.

  “I’m Grace. I don’t believe we were probably introduced.”

  He shook my hand, his grip firm. “Luke. Did you take good care of Tony last night?”

  My face grew hotter. The man with the prosthetic arm laughed out loud and waggled his brows. “I’m Ryan. It’s okay. We don’t need the details. Just knowing he finally got some is all we need to know.”

  Tony scowled. “Shut the fuck up. She’s a cop. Not a whore. I’m lucky she didn’t arrest me. And we didn’t…do anything.”

  Everyone grew silent at that. Was Tony defending me? I wasn’t sure.

  Luke and Ryan exchanged a glance.

  “Weeel, she’s a wee bonnie lass if you ask me, right Luke?” Ryan asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Aye, a wee bonnie lass, she’s foooking hot!”

  Alissa’s expression was a mixture of horror and hilarity as her gaze connected with mine. Then we both burst into laughter. I was used to Americans teasing me about my accent, though I certainly didn’t talk like that. Not at all.

  The hunk with shaggy blond hair sent Ryan and Luke an exasperated look. “Don’t insult her, you idiots. She has a lovely, cultured Irish brogue.” He turned to me with a warm smile.

  I chuckled softly. “Thank you.” I patted his cheek. “You’re adorable.”

  He blushed furiously. “I’m, uh, Logan. I’m The Trainer. I’m a physical therapist and a linguistic specialist.” He spoke rapidly, obviously embarrassed.

  I shook his hand, and his blush deepened. “Impressive. Nice to meet you, Logan.” This guy was a rare one. A true sweetheart.

  The tallest guy, who had short-cropped, light brown hair, stepped forward. “I’m Noah. I’m The Hacker. And you can just ignore Ryan and Luke. They’re incorrigible. Your accent is cute.”

  I shook his hand. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  Now I’d met them all.

  I glanced back at Tony, who’d been watching the entire exchange with a scowl on his face. “Just so you know, Tony, I went back to the grocery store today and took down that wanted poster of you. I also went into several other stores and businesses, removing any flyers that I saw. That way no one else can see it and turn you in.”

  Tony’s gaze narrowed on me. Did he believe me?

  “Or maybe you took it so you can have the number to turn me in later when you’re ready.” His voice was full of distrust.

  I lifted my chin. “If I was going to turn you in, you big arse, I would have done so while I still had you handcuffed to my bed, and you know it.”

  Luke snickered. “Oooh, kinky. I like that. You ever wanna handcuff me to your bed, I’m game, babe.”

  Tony shoved him backward. “Back off. She’s not that kind of girl.”

  Holy shite. Tony was defending me. In fact, he was acting kind of like a jealous boyfriend.

  I liked it. Because honestly, I couldn’t imagine being with any other man except Tony right now. He was all I could think about.

  “Children,” Nate said, raising his voice to be heard above the snickers that filled the room. “We’re here to help Grace get her foster kids back, not talk about sex games.”

  Everyone sobered, properly chastised. Alissa’s gaze met mine, her eyes filling with amusement.

  Wanting to show Tony I was sincere, I went into the kitchen and removed the flyer from the drawer where I’d stuffed it. There had also been flyers of all the other dregs. Eight total. Each one of a different dreg. Each flyer had a photograph, a dreg name, and a complete physical description. So far, I’d met all of them except for The Tracker and The Fighter. What did each of their names mean? I knew Tony was The Smuggler, but I didn’t know what that meant. Each poster also had the bold, all caps title “CONSIDERED ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS”. I had pulled down all of the wanted posters so that the dregs could see them. I gathered them all up now and reentered the living room, shoving the flyers at Tony.

  “Here. Take them. There’s one for each of you, and a couple of others that aren’t here.”

  He searched my gaze for a moment before glancing down at the flyers. He pulled his flyer from the stack, then he handed the rest to Nate, who flipped through them, then handed them to the other dregs, who all studied the flyers and passed them around. None of the flyers did any of the dregs justice. Especially Tony. The Smuggler in person was a hell of a lot more impressive than a black and white printout.

  “We need to investigate these,” Nate murmured. He glanced at me. “Thanks for taking these down, Grace. Would you be willing to help us flush out the people who posted them?”

  “No,” Tony growled out. “I don’t want her involved.”

  Nate held his gaze. “She can help us. She’s a cop, so she can handle herself in dangerous situations, am I right, Grace?”

  I nodded, lifting my chin, wanting to prove I was indeed able to handle myself. “I’ll help you. What do you want me to do?”

  “We can discuss that later,” Nate said, glancing at the others. “Grace can pretend to be a concerned citizen. She can call the number and say she found a dreg. One of us can volunteer to be the dreg that she found. We can set up a meeting place, and take down whoever shows up. It’s time for us to start fighting back so we can someday come out of hiding.”

  The others murmured their agreement, except for Tony, who protested loudly. “No! I don’t want her involved!”

  “That’s
too bad.” I held Tony’s fierce glare. “Because I’m going to help, and you can’t stop me.”

  Silence descended. A couple of throats cleared.

  Tony’s jaw worked, but no sound came out. Finally, he muttered, “I need a description of your foster girls, so I will know what to look for when I get inside.”

  He’d changed the subject, though I doubted he was done protesting. Right now, we needed to find Camille and Teresa. Later, we could discuss how to flush out the people who had posted the bounty posters. I was more than happy to help. As long as what we were doing wasn’t against the law. The flyers didn’t appear to be from any kind of law enforcement. They definitely weren’t FBI-issued. Had Alissa been right all along? Were the dregs good guys who’d gotten a bad rap? Tonight, I had a feeling I would find out if that was true or not.

  How would Tony get inside Paine College?

  “Teresa is sixteen, blonde and blue-eyed. She’s tiny, about five-two. Camille is brunette with brown eyes. She’s about five-five. She’s seventeen.”

  Tony nodded. “The blonde should be easy to find. She’ll stick out amongst all the brunettes. The other girl will be more difficult to locate. Hopefully they’ll be together.”

  I drew in a deep breath, slowly exhaled. “Yes.”

  “Everyone ready?” Nate asked.

  They all nodded.

  “Let’s move out.”

  As we all filed out of the apartment, I noticed they’d left the stack of wanted posters on my kitchen counter. When we got back, we could discuss what to do about them.

  I locked the door behind me and followed the others out. Tony hung back, waiting for me, his gaze intense on my face. “You’re riding with me.” It wasn’t exactly an order, but it wasn’t a request, either.

  I didn’t argue. I just wanted to find my girls.

  I followed him to a sleek black machine with smooth contours. It was gorgeous. It was…

  “Oh my God, holy shite, holy shite, is that a Ferrari?” I screeched out, my eyes wide.

  His lips twitched. “Yeah.”

  “Oh, can I drive it sometime? Please, oh please?”

  He chuckled, his gaze filling with amusement. “Sure. Later.”

  I walked around the black beast, taking in its beauty. “What model is it?”

  “The 488 GTB.”

  I gasped and drooled, unable to believe I was actually looking at a Ferrari. “How much did you pay for it?”

  He shrugged. “Almost three hundred g’s.”

  My mouth gaped open. “Three hundred thousand dollars?” I mock coughed and choked. “Are you insane?”

  He motioned to the car. “Get in. Let’s go.”

  I slid into the passenger seat of the most luxurious vehicle I’d ever seen in my life. “Oh my feckin God, I’m going to swoon.” I fanned myself.

  He glanced askance at me, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t know any girls who are into cars.”

  “Oh, I love cars.” I sighed dreamily. “I grew up with three older brothers,” I explained. “And they were seriously into cars, so I know everything there is to know about cars. And then some.”

  Tony started the Ferrari and backed out of the parking lot. “You love cars, yet you drive a fucking Kia, of all things?”

  My face heated. Yeah, a Kia was definitely not top of the line. “Well, my cop’s salary doesn’t exactly allow me to buy a Ferrari.”

  He nodded, understanding dawning. “Well, if I die tonight, then the Ferrari’s yours.”

  What? I sobered instantly, looking into his eyes. He was dead serious.

  He returned his attention to the road as we headed for the highway that took us to Augusta.

  Tonight, Tony might die. He was seriously going to risk his life to find Teresa and Camille. I guess it hadn’t really hit me before how dangerous this was. The Sureños were a ruthless Mexican gang who sold women into the sex trade. Enrique Vasquez, their leader, was known as the Flesh King. If he had my girls, they were in serious danger. Anyone who tried to invade their compound would be putting their life at risk.

  Tony was going to put his life on the line.

  So that he could have one night with me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tony

  Grace and I were both silent for the first ten or fifteen minutes of the drive. The other dregs had stared at me in shock when I’d strode across the garage back at the maze to my own car instead of riding with Nate like I usually did. He had Alissa now. I wasn’t about to be the third wheel. Besides, I wanted to be alone with Grace, and the best way to do that was if I drove my own car and she rode with me.

  The silence was uncomfortable at first. She stared out her window and I stared at the road ahead. I don’t know what it was about this woman that made me want to be around her when I normally steered clear of women. It was like I instinctively gravitated toward her whenever she was near. I guess I was just fascinated with her or something, which was totally unlike me. Everything about her drew my attention. It was difficult not to let my gaze feast on her continuously, taking her in. My senses were highly attuned to her every breath, her every move.

  Right now, her soft, feminine scent filled my nostrils, making me dizzy with longing. Tonight she was dressed in jeans and a navy blue sweater, her long red hair pulled into a ponytail high up on her head. Whenever she moved her head, her ponytail flopped to the side with a vibrant flash of copper that made me want to pull on it, drag her closer, and cover her mouth with mine.

  Wondering how she would taste was becoming an obsessive thought in my head. I didn’t kiss women on the mouth. Ever. Kissing was too addicting. And since I never engaged in addictive activities or imbibed in addictive substances, I hadn’t allowed myself to kiss a woman since I was maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. Sex was just sex. A physical release and nothing more. I always took the whores from behind so I couldn’t look into their faces. And so I couldn’t be tempted to kiss them on the mouth. It was impersonal that way. Just fulfilling a need.

  Yet Grace made me yearn to press my mouth against hers. To tangle my tongue intimately with hers. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to fuck a woman from behind. I wanted to look into Grace’s eyes while I took her, and I wanted to suck and lap at those pouty lips while our bodies meshed into one.

  I felt like a biologist who’d discovered a rare, endangered species, enchanted by its movements, its actions, its unusual beauty. That’s what Grace was. Rare. Beautiful. Enchanting.

  And if I didn’t have her soon, I was going to implode.

  All the emotions that I hadn’t allowed myself to feel for so many years came back in a rush whenever she was around. Excitement. Anticipation. Nervousness. Lust.

  Yeah, lust. That was the biggest one. I’m not sure if lust was technically an emotion, but it completely consumed me when I was around her, overtaking all my senses to the point that she was all I could see, hear, smell, feel…

  And being in close confines with her in my car like this was pure torture. What the fuck had I been thinking?

  I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was still staring out her window, but she suddenly turned toward me, as if she’d felt me watching her.

  I pulled my gaze back to the road.

  “Ahem. So, I’ve been thinking that maybe only one night with me wasn’t a fair trade. I mean, you’ll be risking your life tonight, and you said you might even die, so I think you probably deserve something a lot bigger and better than that.”

  Was she serious? I turned my head, my gaze locking on hers. “Such as?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. If I was rich, I’d pay you thousands of dollars, but you obviously don’t need money. Why don’t you think about it and let me know what you think would be fair compensation?”

  Fair compensation. Fuck me. As tempting as her offer was, I couldn’t let myself even think about it, because I would just take and take whatever I could from her, and give nothing in return. If she let me decide my compensation,
then I would be fucking her every night for a month. Or more.

  One night was all I deserved. And I wasn’t even sure if I deserved that much.

  I turned back to the road. “One night is sufficient.”

  “Oh.” Amazingly, hurt flickered in her eyes. “Are you sure? I mean…” She trailed off, turning away and staring down at her lap. Was that disappointment I detected in her words? Did she really want more than one night with me?

  I wanted to dwell on that, dissect her words until I discovered the true meaning behind them, analyze it all, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  “Are you offering me more than one night?”

  She jerked her head up, her gaze coming back to mine. “Only if you want it.” She searched my eyes, then turned away again. “Never mind.”

  Was I a fool to turn her down? “Don’t tempt me, Grace. If you give me an inch, I’ll take a mile. You have to set some boundaries for me or I’ll keep taking from you until I’ve milked you dry. All I want is one night to fuck you however I want.”

  Her gaze darted back to mine. A mixture of fear and desire flashed in her gorgeous eyes before she turned away again. Did she think I would hurt her?

  I felt the need to reassure her. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” At least not intentionally.

  She startled at my words, turning back to me with distrust in her eyes. “You won’t? You never agreed to my rules.”

  Our gazes locked again. A spark ignited between us, quickly catching fire. “I agree to your rules, Grace. I’ll admit you might be a little sore in the morning. Because I plan to fuck you thoroughly and often. But I won’t abuse you.”

  She made a little sound in her throat that resembled a gasp. But was it a gasp of excitement? Or a gasp of fear? Her eyes widened. She turned away. No one spoke for the next several minutes, the sexual tension in the air thick and fragrant, smothering us like a heavy cloak. I cracked my window, drawing in fresh air, trying to distract myself from her intoxicating presence. I didn’t understand why she affected me this way. I’d been a fool to ride alone with her.

  I turned the stereo on then, cranking the music loud to discourage any further conversation. Adam Lambert’s Chokehold filled the speakers, and I tapped my thigh with the steady thump thump thump of the bass, trying to drown Grace from my senses. But the words of the song fit my situation perfectly. Grace had a chokehold on me. A strong one. I felt like I was gasping for air, unable to escape what her very presence did to me.

 

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