by Cindy Dees
Joe braced himself for Eduardo to bellow like a bull. But instead, the guy leaned back in his desk chair, waiting and watching as they approached. And with each step closer they took, Cari was getting stiffer and stiffer underneath Joe’s arm. Man, she really was terrified of the bastard.
The two of them came to a stop in front of Eduardo’s desk. Up close, the guy’s eyes were blazing mad. He looked like some sort of lunatic.
But all he said was, “Explain yourself.”
The silky, soft slide of the guy’s voice made Joe’s skin crawl. A shudder passed through Cari, too. But she said lightly, even casually, “You’ll never believe what we did this evening, Daddy. Oh, and this is Joe, by the way. Joe, my father, Eduardo Ferrare.”
Joe nodded politely, but daddy dearest ignored the introduction, his gaze fixed on his daughter with unblinking, reptilian intensity. Joe half expected the guy’s tongue to flick out at any second, tasting the air.
A shaky breath jerked into Cari’s lungs, but she continued gaily, “We got married! Isn’t that the coolest? We decided to just do it, so we jumped in a car, drove over to Judge Cabot’s and had him marry us.”
Score one for Carina. Eduardo’s jaw sagged and his stunned gaze passed back and forth between Joe and Cari several times. Joe did his absolute damndest to keep his expression happy. Stupid. Patently besotted with his new bride. Helpfully, he pulled out the rumpled copy of their marriage license and handed it across the desk to Ferrare.
Eduardo studied it intently for several seconds.
And then he found his voice. All of it. And expressed his opinion of Joe eloping with his daughter at the top of his lungs. “Do you have any idea who she is—who I am?” he bellowed, exactly as Joe had expected him to.
Time for him to go into his surfer dude act. The idea was for Joe to throw Eduardo off balance by acting too dumb to possibly be a threat to the man. “I sure do,” Joe drawled. “This here’s the prettiest little lady this side of the Panama Canal, and you’re her daddy.”
Eduardo stared at him, momentarily silenced and apparently a bit flummoxed by someone who didn’t seem to know him by reputation. Joe met Eduardo’s scowl head-on and nodded knowingly. “Yo, dude, I told Cari you’d be mad if we up and got married without asking your permission. I mean, there’s a right way to do these things. The guy—that’s me— asks the old man—”
Eduardo’s brows slammed together and Joe corrected hastily “—I mean, the father, for the girl’s hand. And then you get married. But, hey, at least I didn’t sleep with her first—”
That brought Eduardo up out of his chair. “Whaat?” he bellowed.
Hmm. If he kept up this line of conversation, maybe he could give Eduardo a stroke and kill him that way. The guy looked positively apoplectic. Joe shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. You marry the girl first and then you boink her.”
Eduardo choked. And then spluttered. And then choked some more. Meanwhile, Cari’s shoulders shook beneath Joe’s arm. He looked down in alarm but was relieved to see her stifling laughter. Even Gunter was coughing conspicuously behind them.
Eduardo came out from behind his desk and stormed over to the two of them. Cari’s shoulders stilled abruptly.
Eduardo leaned forward, his face no more than a foot from Joe’s. “I should kill you where you stand. Give me one good reason not to, you little prick.”
Joe looked Eduardo straight in the eye and answered matter-of-factly, “I love your daughter.”
Eduardo studied him with the intensity of a laser. The man’s ability to sniff out a lie was legendary. It was part of why he was such a successful criminal boss. Nobody pulled any stunts on him and got away with it.
“Does she love you?” Eduardo snapped back.
Joe shrugged. “Well, yeah. Why else would she have married me?”
Eduardo’s gaze narrowed. He could probably think of a bunch of reasons why this arrangement benefited Joe. Like getting ahold of some of the Ferrare millions. Or riding a fast train to the heart of the Ferrare crime empire. Or simply the thrill of sleeping with the daughter of one of the most powerful men in this part of the world. But clearly, Eduardo was perplexed as to what Carina had to gain from marrying Joe. Ferrare spun away and paced a lap of the huge office before coming to stop once more in front of them.
“Let us be clear, young man. The only reason you are alive right now is because of the respect you have shown my daughter over the last several weeks. If, for any reason, I find out you are playing with her affections, I’ll feed you to the sharks. In little pieces. Do you understand me?”
A speech worthy of the most devoted father. Too bad the precious child the bastard was protecting was his business and not the flesh-and-blood woman plastered against Joe’s side. “I get ya,” Joe mumbled. “Nothin’ to worry about on that score, though. I’m not ever going to get tired of her. I mean, what a babe. Your daughter’s hot—” He broke off as if realizing he was rushing headlong yet again into dangerous waters. And Cari’s shoulders were shaking under his arm again.
Eduardo snapped, “Gunter, escort these two upstairs and see to it they don’t wander around and get into trouble.”
The German nodded impassively.
Cari turned, dragging Joe with her. Lord knew Joe was more than ready to escape. He let Cari pull him out of Eduardo’s office and, as they stepped out into the dim hallway, he let out a relieved breath. They’d done it. They’d gotten past the first interview with Eduardo and were both still alive. Charlie Squad’s psychiatrist had made it clear that the greatest danger lay in that first confrontation, when Ferrare was most likely to erupt into sudden violence. She’d been the one to recommend that Joe use Cari as a physical shield between himself and Ferrare. Of course, he’d have put his arm around Cari anyway to support her and protect her.
The two of them followed Gunter upstairs and down the long hallway to the east wing of the house and Cari’s room. Joe noticed she became more tense with every step closer the two of them got to her room.
Gunter stopped beside the last door on the left. He opened it and stood there, waiting, while they stepped inside. The room, a study in white lace, was dim, lit only by a small bedside lamp. Joe spun at the clicking sound behind him.
Not a pistol cocking but not much better. Gunter had just locked them in. Carina gave the door a defeated look and turned to step further into the room.
“The bathroom’s through that door,” she said, pointing. “Oh, and I see the goon squad is done searching your suitcase. Nice of them to bring it up here since they probably figured they’d be carrying you out of my father’s office in a body bag.”
Joe scanned the room quickly. Damn. In a single glance, he spotted dozens of places to hide a camera or an electronic bug. He moved swiftly to Cari and put a finger on her lips. He touched her ear and then tilted his head slightly at the walls. Impatiently, she nodded her response, as if it was a given that her room would be bugged.
He moved over to the balcony door and lifted aside the curtain to look out. “Great view,” he commented.
“Go on out. You’ll like it,” Cari replied.
“Show me.”
A tiny smile flitted across her drawn features. Poor kid was a nervous wreck. In those first weeks when he’d watched her around the clock, she’d spent a lot of time out on this balcony. He’d gotten the impression she drew strength from the ocean. Maybe it would help her relax now.
He opened the French doors and held them for her. As she brushed past him, he caught a whiff of her perfume. Exotic. Mysterious. It reminded him of a night-blooming orchid in the jungle.
The ocean was restless tonight, and waves pounded the shore, flashing whitecaps catching what little moonlight filtered through a thin layer of clouds.
Cari assumed her usual position, elbows resting on the stone balustrade, gazing out over the backyard and pool to the ocean beyond. Joe leaned on the balcony beside her, their shoulders brushing lightly. “How much privac
y do we have out here?”
“Plenty, especially at night. The ocean is too noisy to hear anything over it. There are cameras watching us 24-7, but during the day, there’s less privacy because Gunter can read lips.”
A lip-reader, huh? Good to know. It was a hell of a note to have the civilian protectee lecturing the commando about security precautions in this little shop of horrors. It said a lot about the life she’d lived. And it said a lot about her that she wasn’t all bitter and shriveled up inside.
She continued, “I’d still exercise caution at all times, though. You never know who’s watching.”
“Or listening,” he added dryly.
“Or listening,” she agreed.
Silence stretched between them. He gazed out to sea. Ironic that such a wide-open expanse should be so tantalizingly close to this gilded cage.
“Well, we got through the hard part,” he commented.
“I don’t know about that,” she replied.
He looked over at her quickly. “You think we’re still in danger?”
“I think every moment we spend in this house is dangerous,” she retorted.
He’d love to reassure her, to tell her to be patient and he’d have her out of here as soon as possible. But he dared not. There was no guarantee that a microphone couldn’t pick up what they were saying. He settled for mumbling, “Hang in there. He’ll come around.”
Joe did give in to the temptation to loop his arm around her waist, though. Gently, he drew her slender frame close. She was shivering.
“Cold?” he murmured.
She made a noncommittal noise.
“Let’s go inside and get some rest. It has been a big day.”
Her mouth twitched. “Indeed. My wedding day.”
“Our wedding day,” he corrected.
Her gaze lifted in surprise to meet his.
“You’re not alone anymore, princess. I’m in this with you now. Till the very end.”
Their eyes met. And something passed between them. It was more than shared relief that they’d lived through the confrontation with Eduardo. They were in this together. And it drew them close in a way that reminded him of how he felt about the rest of the guys in Charlie Squad. Facing danger together bonded a bunch of guys faster and stronger than anything else in the world. Good Lord, the same damn thing was happening between him and Cari. Cold alarm coursed through him. This wasn’t about bonding; it was about getting her out of here alive!
A momentary but genuine smile touched her lips. “You’re a good man, Joe.”
He was a lot of things, but good was not one of them. Dangerous, yes. Smart, calculating, good in a fight, maybe. But in his line of work, men didn’t have a lot of time for emotions like empathy or compassion—the things that made them truly good or even human. He measured himself by skills mastered or missions accomplished. But good was definitely not part of that equation.
And to prove the point, he said, “C’mon. Let’s go to bed. Time to put on a show for your old man. This is our wedding night, after all.”
Chapter 6
Cari’s head snapped up. Was he actually suggesting they go to bed and have noisy sex for the benefit of the listening devices in her room? The idea of having noisy sex with Joe had been on her mind for most of the last few weeks, but when he put it that way, he could forget it!
His mouth tilted into a crooked grin. She stopped. Frowned. That almost looked like an apology. And then it hit her. This was more of the clueless but love-struck routine he’d pulled on her father downstairs. Knowing what a bright, sophisticated guy he actually was, she’d been shocked to the point of laughter when he’d done it the first time.
Joe took her hand to lead her inside. To her bed.
Oh, God. Her bed. She balked against the tug of his hand before she even reached the French doors.
He looked over at her with concern and mumbled, “There are cameras out here. Even if it is dark, they can still see some of what we’re doing. You need to look a little more willing to go to bed with me. I won’t pull anything with you, I swear.”
Her first impulse was to do a little swearing herself in response to that promise. But that wasn’t the point. She was scared to death of her bed. Not of being in it with Joe, but of the bed itself.
And he wanted her to climb into it. To lie where Tony had lain, where his blood had soaked her clothes and skin…. Horror bubbled through her.
“Come inside, princess. Please,” he coaxed her under his breath.
Taking a deep breath, she bolstered her courage and stepped through the door. She could do this. Her freedom— heck, maybe her life—depended on it. It was just a stupid phobia. She could overcome it. She was stronger than her fear.
Joe closed the French doors behind her, bathing the room in darkness. And the memory of that devastating spill of blood flooded Cari’s mind’s eye, creeping across the floor to reach out and grab her. She barely suppressed an urge to jump up on the couch like a woman on a chair, hiding from a mouse.
She made out Joe’s frown. Questions raged in his eyes, but he dared not voice them aloud for fear of the bugs that he rightly guessed peppered this room.
“Come to the bathroom with me,” she announced. He stared at her in surprise. “I need help with my zipper. It’s stuck and we’ll be able to see it better in there.”
“Uh, okay,” he mumbled.
She turned the water on full blast in both of the sinks as soon as he closed the door behind them. She swallowed her pride and stepped close to him. She leaned forward reluctantly and confessed in a whisper, “I’m afraid of my bed. I haven’t slept in it since…” Her voice cracked.
“Ahh.” Enlightenment dawned in his eyes. And that looked like relief, too. “So it’s not me you’re afraid of?”
She blinked, startled. “Of course not!”
He exhaled hard. “Thank God. I was trying to figure out what I’d done to freak you out so bad.”
Her cheeks heated up. “You’re fine. It’s just the idea of lying where all that blood was…”
He drew her into a hug. “Aww, baby, I understand. You don’t have to explain. You’re authorized to freak out over that.”
She collapsed in relief against his shoulder. “I feel like such a wimp.”
“That kind of a shock has broken strong men. You’re no wimp, Cari.”
She smiled against the warmth of his silk shirt. “You don’t hate me?” she asked in a small voice.
His chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Of course not.”
“So maybe you’d kiss me again?”
He went rigid beneath her. Cleared his throat. “You think that’s a good idea?” he asked dubiously.
She buried her face in his neck rather than look up at him as she muttered, “I happen to think it’s a great idea. But if you don’t want to, I get the picture. I won’t bug you again…”
A finger hooked under her chin, nudging her face up. “I happen to think it’s an outstanding idea, too.”
His smile positively incinerated her. And then his mouth swooped down, capturing hers with just enough aggression to make it crystal clear exactly how good an idea he thought it was. Somewhere in the background, she heard the water go off and the bathroom door open, but she didn’t care.
His lips were warm and smooth, rubbing across hers with finesse. Enough of the gentleman, already! She didn’t want finesse—she wanted the inferno from the nightclub.
She clenched her fists in the fine silk of his shirt and tugged him closer. “I want a real kiss, dammit!”
He laughed, deep in his throat. And complied. Oh, God, did he comply. His whole body wrapped around her, bending her backward beneath him, the heavy thickness of him pressing against her belly, his arms impossibly strong as they supported her. This was no refined gentleman, dipping his tongue in and out of her mouth in the rhythm of wet, hot sex. This was an alpha male, powerful and in control.
Oh, how she liked that. She got so sick of college boys kissing her like t
hey were scared to death her father was going to burst in at any second and break them in half. And then there were the types that styled themselves great lovers and got so caught up in being suave they forgot to enjoy it. And, of course, she couldn’t forget the selfish jerks who treated her as if she was little more than a life-size plastic doll.
Joe’s hands stabbed into her hair, pulling her head back, opening her to him as he leaned down, kissing and licking and sucking his way down the column of her neck.
“You taste so good,” he rasped. “I can’t get enough of you.”
She tugged on his hair, pulling his mouth back up to hers. “So do you,” she mumbled against his mouth. “You taste like coffee with cream and a shot of whiskey.”
“Baby, you taste like great sex,” he growled back.
One of his hands slid up her naked thigh to her hip, pushing her flimsy skirt aside and tracing the route of her thong downward toward her throbbing center. Her thighs went soft and she moaned as she took a step, spreading her feet shoulder width apart to allow him better access.
His hand closed over her wet heat and she all but flung herself at him as lust roared through her. This man would make love to her like an adult. No adolescent fumbling around. No self-centered performances that treated her like a blowup doll. This man would take them both to the stars and back.
He stepped backward and she followed, chasing his body heat and addictive mouth shamelessly. He laughed as his thighs bumped into something. Then he grabbed her with both arms and fell backward. She started as they bounced onto the bed.
And she froze.
“You’re not lying on the bed, baby,” he murmured. “You’re lying on me. Focus on my mouth.”
And then his hands were on either side of her face, drawing her down, down into a sweet void where nothing existed but his body cushioning hers, his arms holding her close, his mouth sliding across hers, sipping at her like a fine brandy.
She moaned her pleasure shamelessly.
And he laughed in return, a sound of exultation. Of possession. Of soul-deep pleasure. “Come here, princess. I want more of you.”