by Nicole Snow
My eyes flick to that black pearl ring on her hand she’s still wearing.
We’re way beyond sex with a woman I met on a whopper of a lie.
I can’t even say what this is. Only that it’s downright divine.
She’s fucking radiant, with her silky hair spread across my pillow, her soft nipples rubbing across my chest, her hands grasping, desperate to get a grip as I take her harder, faster, my hips becoming pistons.
This could all be over in a flash if I give in. Which I won’t do because I want it to last forever. Taking it slow and steady, I keep thrusting into her, withdrawing, thrusting again until the pleasure turns into an inferno of ecstasy.
Val holds on like I’m her lifeline, her rock in the hurricane thrusts of my cock.
She clings to me as I fuck her over the edge and just keep going, hammering her straight through the storm of one climax and into the next. We fuck for what seems like hours, imprinting my thrusts into her, reminding her in every damn stroke I know she’s mine.
She’s all I can think about. The reason I’m breathing when I’m this far gone. Out of my mind. The only thing in the world that matters.
It’s as insane as it sounds.
If she’s driven me stark-raving nuts, then she’s also driven burning napalm up my spine, straight to my brain. When it hits, still railing her hard and deep, sweeping my entire body up and down hers in a lick of muscle and feral energy, I can’t hold back to save my life.
Thankfully, I’m not alone.
“Come, honey. Come with me. I’m gonna fucking break!” It’s a miracle I can even form coherent sentences.
My climax hits like a lightning strike, a force that splits my psyche and bends muscles I didn’t know I had, releasing white-hot pleasure.
I’m coming for fucking ages.
My eyes pinch shut and my balls rear up, hurling raw fire into her. Her pussy wrings out half my soul, clenching every inch of me, pressed so deep and tight.
We become so close, so one in our rapture, it’s almost frigging mystical.
By the end of it, I think I’m hallucinating.
Before I even pull out of her, I can’t stop the uncanny sense I just had the best sex of my life with the only woman who’ll ever be worthy of wearing my ring.
Flopped down on the bed, I quietly reach around my back and push my thumb against one of my scars. Yep, still there.
It’s my only proof I haven’t just died and gone to seventh heaven.
The only way to certify Val isn’t some kind of broken angel, sent down to save me from myself.
I have to lie there for a while, savoring the most intense sex I’ve ever had in my life, before I can get up and deal with the rubber.
When I come out of the bathroom, she’s still on the bed, lying on her side, watching me with her chin propped up on her palm.
Now it’s time to make a choice.
My colder, rational side tells me I shouldn’t mess her up any more than I have. I should zip it, put on my clothes, act like what I just experienced wasn’t the most earth-shattering fuck of my life, but hell.
I don’t want to.
So I climb into bed instead and slide an arm beneath her. She snuggles close, throwing a leg over mine, tangling us together.
“I think you were right,” she whispers.
“Yeah? About what?”
“Um, well...we probably shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice is just a whisper.
Oh, shit.
My heart stops in my chest.
“You’re having regrets?” It’s all I can think to say. I can’t dream of regretting what just happened.
“No, we’ve just...we’ve got a bigger problem. Now, we’re going to want to keep doing it again and again and again,” she says. “Like every chance we get.”
I feel her smile more than I see it, and I hug her closer, giving her ass a playful swat.
“You’re probably right.”
“Probably,” she echoes playfully, and lets out a soft, sweet sigh.
We lie there for some time before I realize she’s sleeping. No wonder.
I’m sure she didn’t fall back asleep easy last night. I didn’t.
I laid there fighting my animal side until the sun came up.
Now, the fight only gets harder.
She’s too right. We’ll want round two, round four, round twenty of what just happened, and it’s sure to complicate everything. Not just with her and her family, but with mine.
As gorgeous as she is, she’s a walking dilemma. This chick could destroy a big heaping piece of me.
I’m not about to drag a strange woman into Bryce’s life, just to have her disappear, which is precisely what’ll happen after I’ve managed to fix up her life.
15
Under Wing (Valerie)
I’m ready for my applause.
Having decided my old life sucked, I just made my new one as complicated as possible.
Awesome.
I roll over, staring at the ceiling. Flint isn’t in bed. I have no idea how long he’s been gone or how long I’ve been asleep. Not that it matters. What’s done is done.
There’s no taking back what just happened. I don’t think I’d forget that even if I suffered ten more blows to the head.
I’ve had sex before, a few times back in art school. Nothing like the soaking wet, screaming, sexy freaking sex I had with him, and it’s not just because the boys were too soft, too immature, too bland.
Because my heart was never in it. It was this time.
It is this time.
Present tense.
That scares me worse than any bad memory.
I can’t fall in love with Flint Calum. Can’t afford to fall in love with anyone.
Not now. Maybe not ever.
My family has so much baggage, I couldn’t do that to anyone. Especially not a man who’s already had to wade through the muck of my life neck-deep.
I throw my legs over the bed, sitting up straight, releasing a heavy sigh.
Here we go again.
Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
This quiet, hot anger builds inside me. I’m so sick of it. So exhausted with not being able to live.
I climb off the bed, gathering up my clothes. I see Flint swimming in the ocean. He’s just as gorgeous as he was naked, pushing his sleek, strong body through the waves.
Regret swells in my chest, hating how deeply I’ve involved him in all this.
There has to be something I can do.
Ideas roam around in my head while I shower, get dressed, and pad through the kitchen. Flint’s in the kitchen now, on his computer. He looks up and flashes me a smile that wants to banish every last doubt I have.
“Hi.” I give him one back, which isn’t hard considering how achingly handsome he is. The hard part’s trying to act and sound normal. “So, I have an idea...”
His brows arch. “About what?”
I sit down across from him, telling myself not to think about what happened earlier. How fantabulously wonderful it’d been. I know I can’t hope for a repeat, whatever jokes we’d cracked about probablies.
“My situation. Something we can do with the people looking for me,” I say quietly, looking down.
Why is it so hard to hold his eyes?
“You want to be a lot more specific, babe?” He closes his computer and leans back. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not gonna like this?”
“Well, it involves letting them see me and—”
“Nope.” His gaze sharpens.
“Hold up, just listen. I wouldn’t let them catch me.”
“Off the table,” he growls. “It’s too risky. You give them a target, the slightest opening, and it might be the last mistake we make.”
“But that way they’ll know I’m alive and—”
“They already know you’re alive, honey. They followed us, remember? When we left your ma’s house?”
My shoulders droop. Of course I remember.
/> It just seemed so abstract then, more like some weird adventure ride. It’s easy to forget what might’ve happened if they’d caught us, if we hadn’t had backup, and he hadn’t sent them careening into that trench.
“You’re right, they do know I’m alive.” I lean my elbows on the counter, frustrated I hadn’t thought things through. “Guess I’m just trying to figure this out. There has to be something I can do to help catch these freaking monsters. Something I can do to get my life back to normal.”
“We’ll catch them,” he says. “The guys working with me are good. Very good. All trained and vetted, skilled in high stakes tactical scenarios. We’ve done shit like this before and know what we’re doing.”
“I don’t doubt that. I just want to help. Want to contribute something.”
“Well...” he says hesitantly.
“What?” I ask, unable to wait. “What can I do?”
“If I could get inside King Heron’s office, I might find some evidence. Something to help break through the wall we’ve run into.”
He’s still acting cautious, and it dawns on me why. “When are you going over there?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I never said—”
“No, you didn’t, but I know that’s what you’re planning, Flint.” The notebook I’d drawn in earlier is on the counter. I reach over and slide it in front of me, flip open a new page, and pick up the pencil. In seconds, I have the outline of the office on paper.
“I don’t have a key, so I can’t help with that, but I can draw you a little map of the interior.”
“That’d be great,” he says.
The faster my hand moves across the page, the more excited I get.
“And you know, I think I know the perfect way you get in—chickens!”
“Chickens?” He stiffens in his seat and blinks at me.
I giggle. “Yep. The wild chickens roaming around everywhere on Oahu. There were plenty hanging around there the last time I went by the office.”
“Babe, you’re not making sense,” he says slowly, totally confused.
“They were even down by the docks. My father always hated them, said they’d get in the way. Sometimes they even stowed away on the ships. So he had the office sprayed pretty regularly to cut down on bugs, and the chickens would run off somewhere else for food.” Smiling, thinking how cute he’d look in one of those white jumpsuits, I say, “You can pose as an exterminator.”
He seems skeptical at first, but once Cash arrives and hears the plan, we start diving in. I’m so excited to help, I’m nearly giddy.
Giddy over finding information to use against my family. I must be a sadist, more devious than I give myself credit for. Or just a Gerard.
Cash stays well after supper, and I have a feeling it’s because Flint asked him to.
I know why, and though it hurts, I tell myself it’s for the best and go up to bed.
Alone.
I stay there all night, despite the numerous urges I have to go downstairs to Flint’s room.
Bryce arrives home shortly after breakfast the next morning and instantly scoops Savanny into his arms.
“I told him I’d take him to Pearl Harbor, but he insists he wants to bring you two,” Beverly says. “His little friend had to bow out early with a tummy ache. Poor Louie.”
“Valerie can go with us, can’t she, Dad?” Before Flint has a chance to answer, Bryce looks at me. “They’re having this special history day thing just for kids, and I’m sure you’ll like it. Dad said we could go last month, and I almost forgot about it. Did you know Pearl Harbor used to be called Wai Moni? Think it means ‘Water of the Pearls.’”
“I didn’t,” I say. “That’s interesting. I’m sure I’ll love going with you.”
“She can go with us, Dad? Can’t she?”
“Sure,” Flint says. “We’ll all go.”
Bryce frowns slightly. “Even Grandma?”
“Even Grandma? Oh, you.” Beverly puts both hands on her hips. “Are you that sick of me?”
Bryce shakes his head. “Nah, you just usually get tired and don’t go—”
“Because I’m usually not invited to the coolest stuff,” Beverly says with a haughty sniff. “Or maybe I’m just getting tired of playing third wheel to you boys. It’s different this time with another lady.”
She looks at me and smiles. I return it.
Flint shakes his head and shrugs.
“I’m just teasing,” she says. “But I’ll go with you today.”
He nods. “We’ll leave in an hour.”
“Great!” Bryce shouts. “That’ll give me time to show Grandma how Savanny plays fetch.”
For a second, Flint and I share a look, both of us rolling our eyes.
As Bryce drags Beverly to the back door, Flint shouts after him, “Get your fix in now because that cat can’t go to Pearl Harbor!”
“Jeez, I know, Dad!”
I step up next to Flint. “King Heron Fishing isn’t far from Pearl Harbor.”
“I know,” he says, looking at me.
I nod, reading his mind.
“Davis will keep an eye on you the whole time. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worried about me. I’ll be fine. You’re the one putting yourself in danger,” I tell him.
He chuckles softly. “Hardly. No one will think twice about a damn bug guy walking through the door.” He winks at me. “Plus I’ll have your map. We’ve got this.”
I so hope he’s right.
We leave an hour later.
Bryce and Beverly are in the back seat, blabbing away about everything they want to see at Pearl Harbor. There’s also a huge swap meet happening nearby at the stadium Beverly plans to stop by to satisfy her shopper bug.
I have a queasy sensation I can’t quite pin down.
I’ve lived in Honolulu for years and have been to the historic center several times, but I’ve never felt the rush they’re clearly getting.
Maybe it’s just due to Flint, knowing he’ll be sneaking over to the King Heron headquarters while we’re off enjoying our day. I’m worried about that, hoping it goes well.
But at the same time, I think it’s deeper, too.
Shortly after we arrive and enter the visitor center, Flint slips away.
Beverly and Bryce are already engrossed in the movie that’s starting, so they don’t even notice, especially when he’d mentioned something about going off to get his brakes looked at. His mechanic is in the area as well.
I turn my attention to the film about the infamous attack on Pearl Harbor, bringing the US into World War II.
I’m hoping it’ll help me stop thinking about what might happen if Flint gets caught. He swears he won’t, and I believe him, but I’m still scared for him.
The narration keeps my attention on the screen, and soon I’m engrossed.
It’s not actually new.
I’ve been to Pearl Harbor several times over the years. It’s practically a rite of passage for every kid who grows up on the island.
But I’d never paid such close attention because this film seems new to me.
Sure, I know the history. We all do. The what and why, but the sacrifices of thousands of sailors and soldiers and airmen...I’ve never considered it before. And I’d never thought much about their families suffering, either, anxious men and women who must’ve waited on tenterhooks for some word about their loved ones.
The fact that I never wondered until now reminds me how selfish I was. Living the high life as a Gerard meant being insulated, free from the pain and the worries of mere mortals.
By the time the documentary wraps up, this hot shame pulses through my blood.
I don’t want to be that person again.
I can’t go back.
“Valerie, the movie’s over,” Bryce says, getting up. “Come on, we’re gonna look at the submarine.”
I follow along for the next hour. The submarine is a little more cramped than the other attractions, so I
go with Bryce alone while his grandmother hangs back.
I see the entire memorial with new eyes. It’s incredible.
So is how animated Bryce gets by everything he reads and touches. It’s a quiet, respectful excitement. A boy in awe at the sacrifices a fine group of men and women made one December day, and then throughout the dark years of war ahead.
Later, he even talks about joining a branch in the service someday, just like his father.
Is that why I’m more tuned in this time? Because I know a SEAL?
There aren’t any in my family. None that I know. I think my grandfather served in Europe, but he died well before I was born.
Mostly, I hope it’s like Flint said yesterday while I was emotionally exploding all over us. I want to believe I’m changing, becoming better, and part of that means greater empathy.
I’m dwelling on it for most of the day, losing track of time.
It’s not until later, when we’re at the swap meet, trying to keep up with Beverly as she bounces from table to table, two huge bags stuffed full of shirts and hand-carved artwork already in her hands, that I realize how late it is. And my heart starts to pound.
Flint should’ve been back by now.
16
The Thrill of the Chase (Flint)
The second I stepped on King Heron property over an hour ago, I knew something was off.
It looks deserted, practically abandoned, aside from the lady at the front office who hadn’t thought twice about letting me in. Or checking the calendar to see if I had an appointment.
I didn’t even need to use my prepared excuse.
To make it look good, I’d sprayed the baseboards around her desk first, then down the halls, and around the open, public spaces. I don’t know shit about bug spray, so I picked up some environmentally friendly stuff Cash swore would do the trick.
Sometimes being friends with a weirdo as obsessed with birds as he is pays off.
Sometimes.
Then I went down the hall, peeking in and out of empty offices on the left and right. Nothing out of the ordinary caught my eye.
Near the back door, I pause, looking out the window at the fleet of ships docked nearby. They’re the stereotypical kind of big, hulking vessels used in deep sea fishing across the Pacific, mostly from the seventies and eighties, well maintained without many rust spots.