by Sybil Bartel
“Four of your men are trespassing on my property,” Neil stated.
Stone exhaled. “Which property.”
“Key Largo.”
“I’ll handle it. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Handle it now,” Neil demanded. “You are on speaker.”
“Who’s there?” Stone barked.
The second LC spoke up first. “Prez, it’s Stripe. Me and Deacon saw Luna on his Ducati. Now it’s parked in this guy’s garage.”
“He has the River Ranch bitch,” the fourth biker interrupted.
“Joey?” Stone asked. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” the fourth biker answered, glaring at Neil. “And your friend’s holding Spike at gunpoint.”
“You’re lucky you’re all still breathing,” Stone said wearily.
Talon chuckled.
“I don’t care who’s with Christensen,” Stone continued. “Get off his property.”
“Prez,” Joey protested. “You said—”
“Leave. Now,” Stone barked. “Neil, call me if they aren’t gone in two minutes.” Stone hung up.
“Well, ladies, you heard your prez.” Dropping his smile and jovial tone, Talon drew his piece and aimed at Joey. “Get the fuck out.”
Neil stepped back from the biker he was holding at gunpoint, but he didn’t drop his aim. The third biker helped the asshole on the ground up and half carried him to his bike.
Joey sneered at Neil as he walked backward, weapon still trained. “This ain’t over, asshole.” He got on his bike. “You may think you got an in with Prez, but that bitch and Candle are going down.” He started his bike and took off. The other three followed.
I eased back and exhaled.
UNHURRIED, BUT NO LESS PURPOSEFUL, André came down the dock. I didn’t know which was sexier, him in his usual badass Luna and Associates uniform of black cargo pants and black fitted polo, or him now, in dark jeans, boots and a white V-neck T-shirt that looked painted on.
I didn’t have time to decide.
“Chica, cut the engines. We’re gonna be a bit.”
I should’ve been scared shitless when the bikers showed up. It was one thing to resign yourself to death, but it was different as hell when you were facing four armed bikers intent on your head. A normal person would’ve had a fight-or-flight response. I didn’t even think about leaving André.
Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was dumping my shit in his lap and giving up control, or maybe it was just him, a sexy-as-hell Cuban, but I didn’t once consider leaving. Watching his intense gaze on me, seeing his purposeful stride and bulging muscles, I stopped thinking about what a bullet penetrating my skull would feel like and became a single pulsating throb as my pussy reacted to the very site of him.
“Chica?” He stepped onto the boat, brow furrowed. “You didn’t cut the engines. You okay?”
Shit, he was beautiful. Without responding, without taking my eyes off him, I turned the key and everything quieted except the faint slap of water against the boat.
Staring at me, his eyes darkened.
I licked my bottom lip.
“Estas bella,” his rough voice whispered, as his gaze swept the length of me.
I sucked in a breath and pretended I didn’t know what he’d just said. “They gone?”
He barely nodded as he moved closer. His intense stare eating me alive, he didn’t touch me. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
His scent, his presence, my lack of sleep and the heat…. I felt my defenses bleed out like an open chest wound. With no regard for my own vulnerability, I opened my mouth. “Six months ago, I wanted you. I wanted to feel what it would be like to have a man like you.” That’s what had thrown me in his penthouse all those months ago. For the first time in years, I hadn’t wanted to die, or make River pay. I wanted a sexy bodyguard who was more dangerous to me than River ever was. River could get me killed, but the way I felt about André? That would destroy me.
The lines between André’s eyebrows deepened. “What kind of man do you think I am?”
“Strong, honorable, determined, focused.” Sexy, giving, dominant. I didn’t have enough words, at the same time as I had too many. André was more than a wistful dream of a love-starved girl who grew up in a cult. The smile in his eyes when he looked at me was the answer to every wrong in my life. “I wanted to feel like I was yours,” I admitted.
“Chica.” He reached for my face.
I leaned back. I wasn’t finished. The words gripping my throat, choking my conscience, I needed to get them out before it was too late to set them free. “That’s what I wanted before someone brought my head to River.” Fear spread through my veins. “That’s what I wanted to take with me.” I swallowed past the point of no return. “Your smile,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Your smile when you look at me was the last thing I wanted to see.”
I barely got the final word out before his mouth crashed over mine. A growl of frustration and anger and desire, ripped from his chest as his huge hands sank into my hair and cupped the sides of my head.
His tongue drove into my mouth, and his body curved around mine, showing me what it felt like to be his. Every possessive second of his kiss robbed me of any hope of walking away from him unscathed. I was branded by this man as sure as the double Rs on my back.
“Ohhh, shit,” a familiar voice chuckled. “There’s somethin’ I never thought I’d see.”
Breathless, lost, I pulled back.
André’s deep brown eyes stared down at me. “Chica,” he whispered.
I didn’t want to hear what he was going to say, not with an audience. I touched a finger to his lips, then I glanced at my former boss, Talon Talerco. Ex-marine, surfer, professional manwhore, he stood with one arm on the canopy of the boat with his biceps flexed like he’d fucking planned it. “Screw you, Talon.”
Talon threw his head back and laughed. “Damn, Patrol, and here I’d thought you’d tamed the savage beast.”
Without taking his eyes off me, André’s hand went to his gun at his waist. “I can shoot him,” he rasped, completely serious.
I couldn’t stop it. I smiled.
“Holy shit!” Talon threw his hand over his heart. “She fuckin’ smiles?”
André let out a string of curse words in Spanish, but he took his hand off his gun. Glancing over his shoulder, he tipped his chin at Talon. “Give us a damn minute.”
“Hell no!” Talon grinned. “This is like the fuckin’ Superbowl of love connections.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a dock piling. “I ain’t missin’ a second of this.”
“Jesucristo,” André muttered, before looking back at me and dropping his voice. “We’re not done talking, chica.” He kissed me once.
“I don’t want to talk.” I wanted to get naked with him.
His smile only hit one side of his mouth, but it was no less sexy. “Don’t worry, that’s not all we’re gonna do.” He kissed my forehead and grabbed my hand. “Come on.”
André helped me step off the boat, but then he didn’t let go of my hand. Firm and possessive, he held on to me as he glanced at Talon and nodded toward the house. “I’ll help load before we take off.” He led us up the dock.
Talon grinned as he fell in behind us. “Whatever you say, lover boy.”
“Load what?” I looked between them.
“Didn’t tell her yet?” Talon chuckled. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
I cut my gaze to André. “Tell me what?”
“Shut up, Talerco.” André squeezed my hand. “Nothing, chica. Just helping Neil load some boxes onto his truck before we leave.”
“Is that what you’re callin’ this?” Talon taunted him.
“Don’t be an asshole,” André ground out.
“What?” Talon feigned offense. “I’m never an asshole.”
“You fired me,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, but I sent lover boy to check on you, and we all know how that’s workin’ out, so we’re all goo
d.”
I smirked. “I wouldn’t call us good.” Not that I didn’t understand it, I still kinda hated him for firing me. If his sexy friend wasn’t holding my hand like he couldn’t wait to get me alone, I’d really be hating Talon. But right now, all I was thinking about was a long boat ride with André.
“Hey, Kendall,” Talon called, his tone laced with mischief. “Your dresses gettin’ shorter or are you gettin’ hotter? Because, damn, that’s a—”
André spun.
With a solid shove to Talon’s chest, André pushed him off the dock.
My mouth dropped as I watched Talon fall backward into the water.
A second later, he popped up. Standing hip deep, he sputtered before he burst into uncontrollable laughter. Bending at the waist, wiping brackish water from his face, Talon laughed his ass off. “That was so fuckin’ worth it!”
His expression stone cold, André glared at Talon as he took my hand again. “You good, chica?”
I looked up at André and grinned. “So good.”
JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH, MY heart fucking stopped.
That smile.
Practically dragging her up the dock, I only made it to the side of the house before I pushed her against the wall and caged her in. My hands on either side of her face, her gorgeous eyes looking amused as hell, I forced myself not to fucking take her then and there.
“Again,” I demanded.
“What?” Humor danced in her eyes as she looked questioningly at me.
“Smile.” I needed to fucking see it.
A shy, sexy-as-fuck smile tipped her full lips.
Fuck.
I was a goner. Head over ass, goner.
“Jesucristo. You trying to kill me?” I ground out.
The smile faded.
“No,” I barked. “Don’t fucking go there. You know what I mean.”
Her small hands went to my chest, and she tried to push me away.
I growled like a damn animal and rushed her. My mouth crashed over hers, and everything I’d held back on the Cobalt, I gave in to. My hands threaded into her hair, I shoved my tongue into her mouth and I took what I wanted. Her breath, her smile, her scent, I fucking took it all. I didn’t give her a chance to back off. I didn’t need to. She was on me faster than I could grind my throbbing cock against her sweet heat.
“Chica,” I groaned, tipping her head, biting her neck, dragging my teeth across her sensitive flesh. “Give me those sexy legs.”
Her arms already around my neck, she wrapped her legs around my waist.
Fuck me.
I caught her ass and thrust.
Her moan filled my head, and she shivered.
“Damn.” Talon chuckled. “This just keeps gettin’ better.”
Dragging my mouth off her neck, I kissed her once as I pressed my hips into her. “Get the fuck outta here, Talon.” I was gonna come in my damn jeans if I kept this up.
“Plenty a bedrooms upstairs. You askin’ my opinion, I think you should go make some little Patrol babies. Give Uncle Talon a—”
“Talerco,” I snapped.
“All right!” He laughed. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”
Losing myself in her heated gaze, slowly grinding into her, I waited until I heard the slider door upstairs open and close. Then I leveled her with a demanding look and asked what I shouldn’t. “You want kids?”
“I want your cock.” She latched on to my neck.
Mierda, that felt fucking good. Reluctantly, my hand went to her jaw and I gently pushed her back. “Answer the question.”
“Fuck me,” she breathed, squeezing her thighs around my waist.
I held her jaw firmer. “Answer.”
Her chest heaving, her lips still wet from my kiss, she searched my face like she was gearing up for something.
Thinking she was going to give me attitude, I leveled her with a look. “Yes or no. That’s all I wanna hear.”
She didn’t give me one word. She opened her mouth and she fucking slayed me. “I want your cock buried so deep inside me that I can’t breathe. I want you to drive into me. I want you to lose control. I want it to feel so good that you fill me with your seed. Then I want my stomach to grow fat with a dark-haired, dark-eyed baby with a smile exactly like her daddy’s. And I want that smile, just like her daddy’s, to crush my soul and rob me of every reason to die.” Her hands gripped the back of my neck. “So, no, I don’t want kids.” She stared at me. “I want your kid.”
My life fucking fell apart in an instant.
Never in my twenty-nine years could I have predicted her response.
Everything I’d planned. Every sacrifice I’d made. Every lie I’d told myself each time I pulled that trigger…
Gone.
Every dollar I’d ever earned. Every tour I’d survived. Every expectation of mi familia—it all fucking disintegrated in a nanosecond, and I was left holding a woman with a death sentence.
The murderer holding someone else’s prey.
Her ass in my hands, her legs around my waist, I could taste her lies. God help me, there wasn’t a single thing I wanted more than her carrying my kid, but I wasn’t a fucking idiot. This wasn’t a woman I could save. She had to make that decision.
“Chica,” I rasped, my lips against hers.
“Make love to me,” she whispered. “Right here, right now.”
I’d lost my fucking mind over this woman, but I still wasn’t gonna play her game. “No. You want this? Then you tell me you’re gonna let me fight for you.” I gripped her hair tighter. “You promise me you’re gonna fight to stay alive.”
“Please,” she pleaded, grinding her hips into me like an addict. “I want you inside me.”
“Say it,” I demanded.
She stilled, but then only my name came out. “André.”
“No, you fucking say it. Tell me you’re gonna fight.” I wasn’t gonna give her a piece of me without her word. I’d heard every damn thing she’d said, but I’d also heard why she needed a killer. I wasn’t gonna be her mercy shot, no fucking way.
Her chest rose with an inhale, then she dropped every ounce of pretense between us. “I promise not to give up.”
My breath held, my muscles tensed, and I stared at her.
Then I saw it.
The desperation in her eyes, the darkness I’d caught on to the second I’d first met her, but couldn’t identify until I saw her branding, it was gone. Instead of loss of hope and resignation, there was pure determination.
My mouth crushed over hers, and I kissed the fuck out of her. Frantic, my dick throbbing, I undid my jeans then hitched her dress up. Shoving her underwear aside, I was fisting myself and dragging the head of my cock through her heat when she opened her mouth.
“You have to make me a promise too.”
I stilled, not liking the tone of her voice. “What?”
She moved her hips a fraction, and the head of my cock ghosted against her entrance. “Promise me you won’t blame yourself when I die.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
“Don’t say it,” she begged, the resignation coming right back. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Don’t say what? That I wanted to come inside her? That I was throwing away every one of my goddamn rules? That I was gonna fuck her against the side of a house while her life hung in the balance and not question a single second of her bullshit?
Fuck that.
I gripped a handful of her hair and remembered who I was. “You don’t get to fucking play me, chica,” I warned. “I’m not an adrenaline rush for your fears. You don’t get to have a piece of me and still hold on to your revenge death wish.”
Her throat moved with a swallow as the green in her eyes turned storm dark. “I don’t have a death wish.”
“You’re right. Giving Stephens what he wants without a fight isn’t a death wish. It’s a death sentence.” Jesucristo, I’d been fucking stupid to trust her switch.
Her tone went all fucking m
atter of fact. “I’m being practical. I can’t fight this. I never could.”
“I can.” Shit was different now. She wasn’t alone, and if she couldn’t see that, then nothing I said was gonna change her mind.
“What are you going to do? Storm in, guns blazing, and kill him?” She shook her head. “He’ll see you coming a mile away. The compound is protected.”
She’d said she needed a killer. What the hell did she expect I’d do? “I have a plan.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of a plan?”
My jaw locked because I’d talked myself into a fucking corner. I wasn’t ready to tell her my goddamn plan. I didn’t have the details figured out, and I didn’t have enough backup. I knew I couldn’t walk up to River Ranch with two men. I needed a fucking army, but I wasn’t gonna risk my men. That was the fucking crux of it. I had the bait but no goddamn approach yet.
She dropped her legs and smirked before I could come up with a bullshit response. “Right. Sounds like a great plan.”
Motherfucker. I threw down a bone. “It’s a trade.”
Her face twisted, and she looked at me like I was fucking stupid. “I don’t have two million dollars, and even if I did, or for some insane reason, you do? Not only would I not let you give it to River, but he wouldn’t take it. This isn’t about money. This isn’t about a trade. He wants me dead.” She enunciated every word of the last sentence.
“He’ll take the trade,” I ground out, dropping my hold on her and zipping my jeans back up.
“What part don’t you understand? That he’s crazy or that he’s vengeful?” She pushed me away. “He’s not going to trade anything for me. It’s my head or nothing.” She took a step toward the front of the house.
Fuck. Fuck. “I have something he wants.”
She paused. “What? Five hundred new Kool-Aid-drinking members?” She snorted and kept going.
“Weapons.”
She froze. Then she spun, fury robbing her pretty features. “You are not giving that son of a bitch weapons.” She stalked up to me and jammed a finger into my chest. “No fucking way. I will die before I let that happen. You hear me? Die.”
I grabbed her hand. “No one’s going to die.”