by Shayla Black
Havana
After a shower in which we kiss slowly and refuse to leave each other’s arms, Ransom pulls me back to the bed, settles me into the center of the mattress, then works his big cock inside me again to love me slow and strong. I would have sworn I was too exhausted to feel anything below my waist. He quickly shows me how wrong I am. In fact, I have another pair of screaming orgasms to give him. He takes both greedily.
At midnight, he rolls to my side and gathers me against his big body. I don’t think I’ve felt this safe since I was a little girl and my daddy used to tuck me in with a story and a kiss on the forehead.
“Did you have a good birthday, babygirl?” He brushes lazy fingertips along my shoulder.
I smile in the darkness. “It didn’t start that great, but it ended amazing.”
“Glad to hear it. I felt like it was my birthday, too.”
I cuddle up tighter and press a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”
He leans over me, eyes searching mine in the shadows. Trying to see if I mean it? “I love you, too. And I don’t want to leave this cloud of bliss just yet. You deserve a lifetime of it. But we need to talk.”
“It’s okay.” I knew this was coming. “We do.”
“First, I’m sorry about the way things happened tonight. I had no reason to think I was being followed. I never want to put you in danger. But I don’t want to leave you…ever.”
“I don’t want you to go. You have to be careful. No, safe. Whatever’s going on, can you get out of it? So you’re not putting yourself at risk?”
“You deserve explanations and assurances. I wish I could give them to you. But I’m ass deep in something dangerous now. Even you knowing about it could be fatal, so the best way I can ensure you’re unharmed is to keep you in the dark and stay in your shadows until this blows over.”
I don’t know if I can handle that. What if something happens to him? How will I know? How will I cope? How would I go on without him?
But what choice do I have?
“Will you ever be able to tell me what’s going on? Why you got shot? Who’s out to hurt you?”
If you’re a good guy…or bad?
“Someday, yeah. But until this freaking nightmare is over, all I can do is protect you with my life.”
I already know he would. “So…we’ll be together when you can get free, but no one will know?”
He hesitates. “I wish I could give you more. Hell, I want to give you the world. But for now, that’s all I can promise.”
I might be worried he was married and trying to make me his side piece if I didn’t know better. But I do. “A-are we exclusive?”
His frown deepens. “Is there someone else you’d rather have?”
“Not me, no. I meant you.” I still worry he sees me as some silly, lovesick girl who gave up her hymen for less than a promise. And why should he settle when there are so many amazing, confident women out there? “Do you want other people?”
“No, I want you. I haven’t had a monogamous relationship—hell, any relationship at all—since I was fifteen and spent my sophomore year in high school with Ethan’s mom.”
“B-but you’ve had sex since then.”
“A lot of it, yeah. That’s how I know what I’m feeling is more. The weeks you were in my house, I woke up every day dying to see you. You made me smile when you did little things like fix pancakes with mouse ears. You made me laugh when you told those awful jokes you’d heard on the radio. You made me harder than hell when you wore those skin-hugging stretchy pants and did yoga in my living room. Just by being there, you made me look forward to life. Do you know how long it’s been since I felt anything like that? Years. Decades. It’s as if you breathed fresh air into my existence, Havana.”
“Really?” He actually wants me for me?
“Yeah. And that morning, when you kissed me, there was no way I couldn’t kiss you back. That’s how else I knew you were special. Just kissing you made me feel way more than an erection. It might sound corny, but I felt you with my heart.”
It doesn’t sound corny because, for me, it was the same. “Kissing you made me feel truly alive for the first time.”
“My hope for the future was dead until you. I got into dangerous shit because I really thought I’d spend the rest of my life alone.”
“I couldn’t even see a future with anyone. Just college and vet school. Until you, that’s all I ever wanted.”
Ransom rolls me flat to my back, covers my body with his, and presses a fierce kiss to my lips. Automatically, I spread my legs for him. He slides inside me and nuzzles his face against my neck, stroking me slowly. It doesn’t take long for him to rev me up. As if I’m attuned to his body, as if every nerve ending is hypersensitive, his possession leads to an inevitable free fall into ecstasy.
Just before I tumble over, he cups my face, teeth bared, stare drilling me with the same intensity as his body. “I’m going to make this right for you. For us. I promise.”
“Yes…” I believe him.
“I’m going to marry you and fill the house with our babies.”
The idea of being pregnant by this man who’s only whispered about love in the dark should terrify me. Instead, I’m excited. I’m thrilled with our future. No matter what happens, I’ll figure out how to go to college. How to excel at vet school. But if I have this man and our children, too, I’ll have everything.
“Yes!” It’s the last thing I scream as I claw my nails into his back, earning me a growl of purely male pleasure, before we both give over to the combustive need neither of us can deny.
Ransom
Just before five a.m., I sneak away from Havana, hopefully for the last time. Yeah, I leave her a vague note telling her that I’m getting a few things but to stay put because I’ll be back. I hate to leave as much as I hate to lie to her, but I’ve had it.
This shit ends today.
I find her keys in the kitchen. The kitten I spotted earlier sees me and makes another beeline under the sofa. I refill her water dish and make a mental note to tell Ethan to bring some kitten food before I take Havana’s keys and the instructions my son scribbled on a piece of paper with the various access codes, then I’m flying down the road, through the last of the night.
I don’t give a shit what time it is or where my youngest brother is. I dial him.
“What’s wrong?” He sounds half awake. “Why the fuck are you calling again so soon?”
We try to avoid contact so we don’t blow our covers, but this can’t wait. “I need out. Now.”
“What?” Ridge’s shout doesn’t sound sleepy anymore.
“You heard me.”
“Are you fucking serious? I’ve been working this shit for too long for you to just bail.”
“Look, I hoped we’d be done.” And until tonight, I hadn’t dared to believe that Havana wanted a future with me. “But I’ve got to end my part in this fucking charade. I’m in love.” If anything happened to her because of this shit, I wouldn’t make it.
“You?” He sounds more than slightly skeptical.
That’s no surprise. I’ve been saying for almost two decades that I’d never settle down, never have more kids, and never let another woman have that much power in my life. Ethan’s mom, Lydia, was enough.
Then I met Havana.
As much as I hate to kiss and tell, I can shorten this conversation by being brutally honest. Then we can cut to the chase. “Yeah. I took her to bed last night.”
“Am I supposed to congratulate you? You fucked some woman. Whoopee… You can’t be serious here.”
“She turned eighteen yesterday. She was a virgin. I willingly fucked her bareback—more than once—and she’s not on the pill. That serious enough for you?”
Ridge is silent for such a long moment, I wonder if we’ve lost connection. Finally, he replies. “Shit. You’re not playing.”
“Nope.”
“But she’s your son’s age. You’re a grown-ass man. What are you going to do, finish raisin
g her?”
“Fuck off,” I snarl into the phone. “I called to give you a heads-up. I plan to dust Paul Carboni pronto so he can’t come after me again. I can do Donzelli, too. Since I’m a ‘dead man,’ neither will see me coming and no one will suspect me. God knows they deserve it for selling human beings like sacks of groceries. It will also get you a step closer to getting out of this shitty mess. What you do with the opportunity is up to you. I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait! I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’m just saying Lydia did a number on you, and this girl—”
“Havana.”
He snorts. “With a name like that, I’m guessing she has a fuck-me mouth and great tits.”
“Shut up.”
“So she doesn’t?”
She does, and not for anything will I admit that. Ridge will underestimate and undervalue her. I refuse to let him.
“That’s what I thought,” my brother drawls. “You can’t be into Havana for her intellect.”
I grip my phone tighter, fighting a growl. “You don’t know her, so stop making assumptions. She’s way more mature than Lydia, who had everything handed to her as a kid. Havana has been on her own for two years. She’s got the biggest fucking heart. She wants to be a vet. She’s smart enough to do it, too. And by the way, I’m still here for you to bitch at because she saved my life last night. So back the fuck down. I’m telling you I want out, and this is how it’s going to go down.”
“Okay. Sorry. I didn’t know. It’s been a long night, and I’ve got major problems here.”
That worries me. Ridge always takes on a mountain of danger and never complains. “Do you need help?”
“If I do, I’ll let you know. Look, I think I speak for Rand and Rush, too, when I say we don’t want another girl to trample your heart and fuck up your life.” He sighs. “Does Havana really make you happy? Can you live with this girl for a month? A year? The rest of your life?”
Ridge means well. I remind myself of that and do my best not to bite off his head. “Yeah. I won’t say the age difference didn’t give me pause, man. I tried to resist. God, I fucking tried. But when you know, you know, at least according to Rand and Rush.”
“They’re right.” Before I can ask my youngest brother why he’s convinced of that, too, he goes on. “Listen, don’t touch Donzelli. He’s mine. The truth is, I need out, too. Like, now. I think I finally have enough evidence, and I have an idea. So let’s move on this.”
Ridge wants out of a case? Away from danger? That’s never happened. Ever. If I enjoy adrenaline, my youngest brother is an addict. In the past, he’s constantly thrown himself into danger, half the time just for the thrill.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah, I, um…met someone, too.”
“When?” And is she the reason he’s been balls to the wall on this case since the start of the new year?
“Recently. And she’s fucking here now.”
“What?” He’s getting laid in the middle of an op?
What have you been doing all night?
“Long story. You be careful with this girl.”
“Havana.” It’s not lost on me that he’s more concerned about me getting serious with her than he is about the fact I was shot twice last night. Then again, I know a bullet wound often heals faster than a broken heart. “You be careful there, too, bro. Stay focused. Get Donzelli done soon.”
“Tell me when Paulie is dead, then I’ll make my move.”
We’re on the same page. “Is he around the casino?”
“Nah. He’s not due to show up for a few hours. It’s just Rudy, Sal, and some of the other guys. Let me know once you’ve iced that stupid bastard. Be safe. I’ve got to go.”
I don’t even get to say goodbye before he hangs up. I would have liked to ask more questions, but Ridge is a man on a mission. I hope like hell for his sake, and the woman he’s lost his heart to, that they stay safe. That place Ridge has been infiltrating is a den of wolves.
Then I put my concern for my younger brother aside. If he needs me, he’ll call. We reach out sparingly because no one we’re double-crossing on this case has any idea we’re brothers or business partners, but Ridge knows I’m here for him. I always have been, and I always will be.
Now, it’s time for me to take care of business, so I point Havana’s ride toward an old garage Ridge and I keep for our toys. I park her car safely and lock it inside, out of sight. Then I pick up some hardware, fold myself into a sleek black sedan with windows tinted every bit as dark as the law allows, and head toward the swanky end of town.
When I roll past Paul’s house, it’s dark inside. The sky is still inky black, and his Mercedes, which probably got scratched to shit last night, is parked out front.
According to Ridge, Paul Carboni is forever trying to get laid and always striking out. Probably because he’s a middle-aged fat fuck whose face looks like it’s been repeatedly slammed into a brick wall. So the likelihood that he’s alone right now is high.
But he’s a paranoid bastard. I won’t get in easily.
On the other hand, once this is done, I should be able to get out clean. Then I can finally tell Havana who and what I am so we can get on with our lives. I’ll have to rethink my future since it’s going to include her—and more children. I swore I’d never get married and do the whole kids and picket fence thing. But I’m more than down for that now. At least a version of it that works for us.
After I park at the end of the street and blend in with the shadows, I double back to Carboni’s house. I spot a newspaper out front. He still gets one delivered? How cute.
I sneak around the side of the ritzy bungalow, avoiding motion-activated lights and mounted cameras to peek in windows, getting a sense of the floor plan, potential entry points, and possible hiding places. A plan begins forming when a light flips on inside at the back of the house.
Shit.
Easing behind a hedge, I hug the fence as the slider to the patio opens. A fluffy gray poodle trots out, heading straight for a half-dead patch of grass in the desert landscaped backyard. Is that prancing little thing Paul’s dog? I pictured him with a pit bull.
The mobster stumbles out in a limp bathrobe with its belt flapping around his knees. He’s got one hand down his pale boxers, leaving his hairy belly hanging over the elastic, as he scratches his balls. After taking a long last drag, he lifts his cigarette away with his other hand while he watches the dog.
It walks in circles, flitting from one spot to the next. Finally, she squats to do her business, then yaps at Paul a few times before dashing back into the house. Paul puts his cigarette out in a flowerpot beside the door and steps back inside.
Time for me to make my move.
Before Carboni can shut the door behind him, I rush him and slam it closed. The dog barks, but I ignore her, hooking an arm around Paul’s neck, then pressing my Glock to the mobster’s temple.
He stiffens. “If you’re a burglar, you’re fucking with the wrong guy.”
“I’m not a burglar, Paulie. I’m a dead man—or at least you thought I was. But I’m going to return the favor and do it right. I want your last thought in this life to be that you fucking failed. And to know that, soon, you, Donzelli, and your whole operation will be nothing but dust.”
“What the fuck—”
In the precious time it takes him to spew those three words, I yank the tie free from the loops of his bathrobe, coil it around his neck, and pull back with all my strength. Immediately, he starts choking, flailing, and fighting. But I’m younger, in better shape, and absolutely determined. Sure, he’s got his survival instinct working for him. And yeah, it would be easier to simply shoot him, but a lot louder and messier and less satisfying. He’s done this and worse to scores of powerless victims. He should go out knowing how it feels to be tortured out of his very last breath.
He grabs at the tie, grunting and kicking as he tries to turn back to me. But I hold firm, twisting the tie tighter and tighter ar
ound his neck until his grunts turn to choking coughs. Even in the shadows I see him turning red. The dog continues yapping as Paul’s movements turn sluggish…then stop altogether as he slides to the floor. I tug one last time and hold the noose in place for another couple of minutes before I finally let go.
The scum isn’t coming back, and good riddance.
A quick glance around the kitchen tells me the dog has plenty of food and water. Havana would kill me if I left his pet in distress. The police will find Paul Carboni’s body before too much longer. I’ll make sure of that. And someone will take care of the pooch.
Then I shove the bathrobe tie in my pocket, slip out the back door, cling to the last of the shadows as I creep back to the car, and disappear from Paul’s neighborhood like I was never there.
After a quick stop at a hole-in-the-wall diner that I know has zero security equipment and about the same number of customers at this hour, I swipe a cigarette lighter from an older woman’s table when she’s not looking, head into the men’s room, and burn the bathrobe tie. Less than two minutes later, I wash my hands, clandestinely return the lighter, get a cup of coffee to go, then text my brother one word.
Done.
Finally, I slide back into the car, run a necessary errand, pick up another item I’ve had stashed away for weeks, and head back to our love shack so the life I really want—with the woman I love—can hopefully begin.
Havana
I have no idea what time it is when I roll over in one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in and stretch. Two things startle me from my drowsy state. First, everything between my legs is deliciously tender. Second, there’s a hard, naked body next to me.
Ransom!
The night comes rushing back as I wake to find him lying beside me, his black eyes tender. He draws me closer and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Morning.”
I’ve never woken up beside another human being, much less a man who makes my heart jolt and thump with nothing more than a smile. I can’t resist the urge to be closer, so I snuggle against him. “Morning.”