The line didn’t fall back to the grass and he gave it tug, wanting to make sure it was secure before he put his weight on it. It seemed solid, and he grabbed hold and started climbing. The dogs were barking directly below him, waiting for the guards to catch up. He was two feet from the edge of the roof when the first gunshot whizzed past his shoulder, embedding itself in the house’s stucco facade.
There was no time to look back. He was wearing black and would have to place his faith in the difficulty of aiming at him from the ground when he was in motion. He climbed faster, reaching for the edge of the roof as a bullet bit into his bicep. There was a brief stinging sensation before it went numb, and he heaved himself onto the roof and ran past the pool to the stairs that led to the top of the house.
The dogs had grown silent, and he assumed they were making their way through the house at the behest of the guards. Fucking Glover was probably pouring himself a drink.
He clattered onto the iron stairs and raced for the top, euphoria rushing through his veins as the glider came into sight where he’d left it. He was dimly aware that it was insane. He should be afraid. At the very least he should be concerned. Instead he felt alive.
He lived for this shit.
He stepped into the glider’s wire frame and buckled the harness, forced himself to take the measure of the wind before he aimed the glider even as he heard the dogs hit the pool deck on the roof below him.
The upper roof wasn’t ideal. It was still too low to the ground. There was no guarantee he would be able to get enough lift to carry him over the trees surrounding the Glover estate. But it’s not like he had a choice.
Fuck it.
He ran for the edge, stepping off as the dogs bounded up the stairs, another bullet pinging off the glider’s frame as he dropped toward the ground. There was a split second when he was sinking, the ground rising up to meet him.
Then he felt the wind’s current, not unlike the water when he caught the edge of a wave. He shifted in the glider, leaning into the updraft. It snagged the glider’s wings, lifting him into the air, propelling him over the property and toward the canopy of trees.
28
Elle sat next to Locke on the outdoor terrace in town and looked around the table at the people who had flown in that morning. They were all talking and laughing, obviously comfortable in each other’s presence. Even Locke seemed at ease, the bandage on his arm only adding to his reckless appeal as he tipped a bottle of Corona against his lips.
“So I was trying to say I needed a bath,” the man named Derek was saying, expanding on a story he’d been telling about his recent trip to Bali. His hair was so fair and cut so close to his head he almost looked bald. “But I used the word for purify instead, which is how I ended up sitting on a stool with water and flowers poured on my head. I smelled like a woman for a week!”
“You’re full of shit.” Braden Kane laughed.
He was sitting next to Nora, the only woman who’d arrived with the men. According to Locke, Braden and Nora were former FBI agents. They’d been inseparable since they’d arrived, an easy camaraderie existing in sync with their obvious romantic attachment. Locke said they’d been friends for years before they’d finally given in to their feelings after Braden left the Bureau.
Elle couldn’t help wondering how two former FBI agents had found their way into Locke’s organization. What would it take to turn people trained to enforce the law to instead circumvent it? She hoped she’d get to ask someday. It made her feel less alone to realize she wasn’t the only one who’d been able to justify looking the other way on the crimes committed by Locke and his organization.
“I’m dead serious,” Derek said. He had the same kind of easy grace Elle saw in Locke. The kind that made her certain he could be on his feet and on the offense in under five seconds. “Apparently it’s a common mistake.”
“You went to Bali last year, didn’t you, Colton?” Braden asked, turning his eyes on the brooding dark-haired man next to her.
Colton nodded and took a swig of his beer without saying anything else. Elle had worried about him from the first moment he’d stepped into the house in Mexico. There was a kind of naked pain in his eyes, a tension in his movements that made her wonder what had happened to him. That made her wonder how close he was to snapping.
Locke had picked them up at the airport and they’d spent the afternoon getting settled before driving into town for dinner — all except the big red-haired man named Archie who taken the first shift watching Glover’s estate with the drone.
It had been two days since Locke had returned to the house with his arm bleeding, a bullet embedded in his bicep. He’d been completely calm, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the bar before locking himself in the bathroom with a medical kit.
She’d tried banging on the door. She’d even tried picking the lock before she finally gave up. He’d insisted he was fine, emerging thirty minutes later with a bandage around his arm and stitches he’d given himself, something she only realized when he changed the dressing in front of her the next day.
He’d told her about the money at Glover’s estate and about the woman who’d been packing in the house. The woman who wasn’t Glover’s wife.
Elle had felt sick hearing that part. She didn’t know anything about Glover and his family, but she could imagine how his wife would feel when she realized she’d been abandoned by her husband in the middle of his embezzlement investigation. No one deserved that, not even someone who could justify being married to a monster like Glover.
Now they were waiting for Glover to make his move. Locke had decided it made more sense to take the cash when it was on the move rather than trying to get back onto Glover’s property. He’d been caught while he was there, almost hadn’t made it out thanks to the guards and dogs. It would make sense for Glover to add security in the wake of the break-in, but once the cash was in motion, it would be a lot more vulnerable.
Locke and the others had spent an hour studying a map spread out on the dining room table, plotting the different roads Glover might take to transport the cash off the property. Archie would give the word when it looked like they were moving out, and everyone else would be prepared to hijack the cash before it got too far away from the house. It was anybody’s guess where it was headed, but they’d plotted all the roads leading out of Cancun and the ones leading to the airport just in case.
“Elle, I hear you own a bookstore.” She turned her eyes on Nora, who was looking at her with interest. “That must be amazing.”
Elle smiled. “It’s just a little place. I have no idea how long I’ll be able to keep it running, but it’s my dream.”
“It’s so important to be passionate about what you do for a living,” Nora said.
Elle nodded, wondering what had made Nora passionate about bringing criminals to justice outside of the law. “I agree.”
“You know what I’m passionate about?” Derek asked. “Tequila. And I say we sample this fine city’s supply while we’re here.”
“You’ll have to do it without me,” Locke said. “I’m ready for bed.”
He slid his hand up Elle’s thigh, bare under her long skirt, and an arrow of lust shot to her center. Her pussy pulsed with need, his hand so close that if she opened her legs just a little, he might brush against the edge of her panties. She could imagine his fingers sliding under the fabric, slipping inside her. She was suddenly grateful for the cover of the table, for the flicker of candles she hoped would hide the flush warming her cheeks.
“Pretty soon you’re going to be wearing tropical prints and shuffling around in Birkenstocks,” Derek joked.
“Ha-ha,” Locke said. “More like sobering up your hungover ass when it’s time to intercept the cash.”
“No need,” Derek said. “I can work drunk or sober.”
Locke laughed. “Don’t I know it.”
“The rest of you in?” Derek asked, looking from Braden and Nora to Colton.
“I’m up fo
r more tequila,” Nora said.
Braden bowed toward her. “The lady has spoken.”
“Me, too,” Colton said.
They stood, and Elle stretched while Locke paid the bill from a thick wad of cash. It was one of many things she was still getting used to; Locke didn’t use credit cards, avoided giving his name, did everything possible to circumvent attention. He was like a ghost, and she suddenly wanted to feel his body against hers.
To prove to herself he was real.
They’d taken two cars, and they parted ways outside the restaurant. She and Locke watched as the boisterous group made their way down the street. When they disappeared around a corner, Elle looked up at him.
“Bed?”
He grinned. “How about a swim first?”
29
He held her hand as they made their way through the dark house and stepped onto the terrace. Flames licked from the torches scattered across the patio, hinting at the trees lurking at the edge of the house. They might have been anywhere: Fiji, Tahiti, Burma.
It was fine with Locke. All he needed was her.
Elle laughed as he led her down the rocky steps to the cover below the house. “I take it we don’t need bathing suits for this swim of yours?”
“I don’t need a bathing suit.” He grinned at her. “Do you?”
Her smile was somehow both indulgent and knowing. “No.”
“Glad we got that settled.”
They hit the beach, and he pulled her laughing across the sand. The night air was warm, the breeze as gentle as a kiss. They’d barely reached the edge of the water when he stopped to pull her into his arms. He couldn’t wait to feel her body against his.
To feel her mouth. The heat of her skin.
He slipped his hands into her hair, cradled her head in his hands as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were salty from the spray of the sea, and he slipped his tongue between them as she reached for the buttons on his shirt.
For a few seconds she met the need in his kiss with urgency of her own. Then she stepped away, pulled her tank top over her head. Her breasts were bare, the nipples hard and erect as she slid the skirt from her hips.
“I was promised a swim,” she teased. “And I intend to collect.”
She stepped out of her underwear and ran for the water, her hair brushing the top of her ass. He was so entranced he could only watch as she hit the water, splashing through the shallows as the waves broke around her. It wasn’t until she dove under the first swell that he was able to shake loose his stupor long enough to strip off his clothes and join her.
He jogged into the water, caught sight of her head bobbing on the surface as he ducked under a wave. When he emerged she was a few feet away. He swam toward her, let one of the swells lift him as it passed underneath them, then deposited him back on the sandy bottom.
He grinned, watching her tread water. “Too short to touch the bottom?”
She splashed water at him. “Don’t gloat just because you’re tall,” she said. “It’s rude.”
“I’m fully prepared to help you out,” he said as another swell rolled under them.
She swam toward him. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yep.
“And what would I have to do to gain access to these services?”
He reached for her, placed her legs around his waist, his rigid cock nestled into the warmth of her folds. “Just hold on,” he said.
She locked her legs tighter around him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I accept your terms,” she said against his lips.
He crushed her mouth under his, invading it with his tongue, tasting the salt and the sea and the woman who had felt like a part of him for as long as he could remember. She tipped her head, matching his urgency, pulling him deeper into her mouth as she pressed her hips tighter against him.
The pressure in his cock built with every sweep of her tongue, every motion of her hips. He cupped her ass with his hands, letting the water lift them gently with each swell, drooping them back onto the bottom as it rolled past. The motion was erotic.
Primal.
It matched the beating of his heart for her, the throbbing of his body as it ached to be joined with hers.
He kissed his way across her jaw, licked his way down her throat as she tipped her head back into the water. He left a kiss at the hollow of her throat, then continued to her breasts, the moonlight exposing them in all their perfection. He closed his hands around them, her legs still locked around his waist as he lowered his mouth to one of the nipples, flicked his tongue against it before taking it in his mouth. Her flesh was cool, the peak hard and insistent as he sucked it to a point, kneading the other breast before moving to it, giving it the same attention with his mouth.
“Locke…”
She breathed his name into the night air, her eyes closed as she floated on the surface of the water, giving herself over to him, letting him take the lead. He wanted to fuck her then and there. Wanted to plunge his cock into her, let the rhythm of the waves rock them as he moved inside her.
But there would be no coming back for him then, and he wasn’t done with her yet.
He slid a hand between their bodies while he lapped at one erect nipple. When he found her sex she was wet not just with the sea, but with the thick, slippery juices of her desire.
The knowledge sent a bolt of lust roaring to his cock. He tried to distract himself by slipping his fingers inside her.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned, rocking her hips against his hand.
He sucked her nipple in time to the movement of her body against his hand, slipping his thumb up to her clit. When he hit it she jerked in his arms, the sensitive nerves already coiled tight, ready for release.
He worked it in circles under his thumb while his fingers plunged into her, his mouth sucking on her nipple, everything working in perfect rhythm with the rocking of her hips. For a long moment there was nothing but the lapping of the water against their bodies, the occasional rush of a swell as it rolled under them, her breath mingling with the breaking waves on shore.
He was in another place now. The place he’d always disappeared into when he’d made love to her.
There was no right or wrong here. No limits. No boundaries.
He knew the cues of her body intimately. Could tell she was approaching orgasm by the tightening of her channel around his fingers, the increasingly fast movement of her hips, the short breaths that emerged from her lungs in a staccato beat.
“That’s right, beautiful,” he coaxed. “Come for me. I want to see it. I want to feel it.”
“Yes… I’m going to… I’m coming…”
She shuddered in his arms, still moving as he pressed against her G-spot. He bent his head to her nipple and sucked hard while he moved his thumb on her clit, but she was otherwise in charge, using his fingers the same way she’d always used his cock.
Unabashedly.
He reveled in the moans she released to the night sky. In the knowledge that he could still bring her pleasure.
Little by little she stopped moving, her legs still tight around his waist as her body floated on the surface of the water. Finally she sat up, linked her arms around his neck, kissed him long and deep.
His cock was throbbing with need. Nothing turned him on like watching her come, and he was positioning himself at her entrance, getting ready to drive into her when she unlinked her legs and backstroked away from him toward shore.
“It’s your turn,” she called out, her breasts shimmering like pearls in the moonlight.
He laughed. “So where are you going?”
“Back to the house where I can take care of you properly. Are you coming?”
30
Elle was barely out of the water when Locke swept her up in his arms. She wasn’t surprised he’d caught up to her; he was born for the water.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily as he made his way toward the stairs. She knew from experience that they were rocky
, as if they’d been carved by nature and not by man, but she felt as secure in his arms as if she was walking on her own two feet. His grip was ironclad, and she settled into his chest as he carried her toward the house, his tongue plundering her mouth with single-minded purpose.
He’d just stepped onto the terrace when a thread of reason broke through the desire pulsing in her veins.
“The others…” Their nakedness was an afterthought in the face of the throbbing between her legs, but it was there nonetheless.
He broke their kiss, nibbled at her bottom lip. “Not back yet. And you’re crazy if you think I’d let any of those dogs see you naked.”
She tipped her head back and laughed as he stepped into the house. His mouth found hers again as he carried her through the living room, up the stairs, over the threshold of the master suite that had quickly begun to feel like home.
It had been a surprise to realize how easily she could slip into the extremes of Locke’s life. How comfortable she could feel in a house on a cliff in Mexico, the bookstore far away.
Real life far away.
The thought that this could be her life had only recently begun to occur to her. That she could fall asleep next to Locke every day, wake up next to him every morning. It had put the bookstore in perspective, made her wonder if her obsession with it had been more about misplaced guilt over the loss of her parents’ store. As if her love for Lachlan had somehow made it happen it when reason told her there was no way that could be true.
He crossed the room and lay her on the bed, staring down at her with naked need, his body still damp from the ocean, his cock thick and hard for her. Looking up at him she realized she was ready to move on. Ready to give herself over to something new.
Ready to give herself over to him and whatever that would mean.
She lifted her arms. “Come to bed.”
He stretched out next to her, tracing a path from her chin to the hollow between her breasts.
Rebel Love (Kings of Corruption Book 2) Page 13