Wreckless Intentions

by K. Marie

  “I’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and that’s my line. Broggs is a despicable man and a dirty cop; he dishonors the badge and deserves whatever he gets,” Hernandez maintained.

  “Your complete hypocrisy aside—I happen to have a line as well, detective. Believe me, there are some fates much worse than actual death,” I told him.

  I wasn’t judging Hernandez—I believed him a decent man, he was doing what was needed to care for his family. We all do what we must. But, we must also stand in our own truths and own what we do—that’s the mark of a man. I had two tattoos inked on my body as a permanent reminder of that.

  “I expect that you will keep a low profile and not draw any undue attention with an increase in your spending habits. Only stupid men get caught. When Broggs goes down, IA will be keeping a watchful eye on you as well,” I reminded him.

  “No need to worry, I’ve got everything covered on my end. I’m not looking to spend my retirement years in prison,” Hernandez declared.

  “Sometimes, prison might be considered the better of two options,” I countered.

  After Hernandez left my office looking like a man who might already be regretting his decisions, Viktor looked over at me with undisguised cynicism. “I predict the detective won’t be long for this line of work.”

  “Money seduces even the best of men, dvoyurodniy brat. Once a man allows himself to cross that line, he’ll continue, all the while justifying his own actions,” I said with certainty.

  In my world, there was nothing more dangerous than a man who wouldn’t step out of line. An unbending rigidness or unwillingness should always be perceived as a threat. But luckily, I’ve found the majority of men to be completely corruptible; learned that everyone had their price. I haven’t met a man yet, who couldn’t be bought. The veteran detective wasn’t the easiest of men to convince. But you’ve got to know how to appeal to what’s important—to what a man holds dear. Once you’ve sold him on that, the offering of payment was just extra incentive. It was also binding.

  “Hernandez has already proven that his detecto-meter is for shit; he’ll get spooked once he realizes your true intentions for Broggs,” Viktor predicted.

  I wasn’t worried about Hernandez, he was the least of my concerns. “I want you to find out which of the men Romanovich sent to us is his spy. Someone has been reporting back to him; I won’t have that. If the men are working for me, they will be loyal to me only. Romanovich has others to do his spying for him,” I told Viktor.

  He nodded his head in agreement. “Perhaps they’ve forgotten whom it is they’re working for; a little reminder won’t hurt.”

  Twenty-Four

  C A M R Y

  The Rovers had been replaced with black Escalades. There were three of them, all lined up side by side in the driveway. I didn’t even bother asking if they were armed, nor if they had guns tucked away in compartments built into the floors.

  I would just assume that they did.

  The SUV’s were new, but so were some of the guards. We’d gotten more of them; though, these guys were distinctly different from the others. They were like robots and stood out in the way that they moved, looked, and behaved. Like they’d all attended the same bodyguard school or something. They were all impressive in stature, but each of them had the same hard, unsmiling faces and flinty eyes that were always scanning the space around them as if expecting an imminent attack. They seemingly moved in sync and maintained close proximity that left absolutely no doubt that they were exactly who they appeared to be. Bonafide Russian muscle.

  The Russian’s were conspicuous and stood out from the American guards. However, the most curious thing about them was the way in which they behaved with Garland. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

  As we made our way to the closest car, I glanced curiously at the guard already standing next to the opened door. His name was Igor, quite the unfortunate name. Igor stood tall with a military bearing; feet spread wide, hands clasped in front of him, and eyes averted as if he didn’t dare make eye contact. It was weird. I’d grown accustomed to the guards giving some sort of acknowledgment with a head nod, eye contact, or with a simple word. But not these guys. They were like soldiers and treated Garland as if he were their commanding officer.

  “The scary Russian’s are creeping me out,” I whispered in Garland’s ear once the back doors had been closed.

  He gave me an amused look. “Being scary is in their job description,” he whispered back, before kissing me on the ear.

  “Why do they avoid eye contact?” I asked.

  “Out of a show of respect, it’s how they were trained. Some of the Russian customs differ from those here,” Garland explained.

  “A show of respect for you; as their boss, or for me as well?” I inquired curiously.

  “Both, sweetheart; you are an extension of me, which makes you their boss too,” he answered.

  “Why do I have to be an extension of you? Men are such chauvinists. Maybe you’re an extension of me,” I said in a huff, giving him major side-eye.

  “I have no problems with being an extension of you, moya lyubov', because I intend to extend myself all over you for the remainder of the night,” Garland leaned over and whispered in my ear, before catching the lobe with his teeth.

  I had to stifle a groan. Garland was apparently starting his seduction right here in the car.

  “I love it when you call me ‘my love’ in Russian, it sounds so much sexier,” I breathed, trying to ignore his hand moving up my thigh. We had an audience for Christ’s sake.

  “If it pleases you, I’ll say only in Russian…the many ways in which I intend to fuck you tonight,” he murmured against my neck, warm mouth sucking on my skin.

  A moan escaped before I could stop it. “Cut it out!” I whispered halfheartedly, placing my hand atop his to slow its progress.

  Garland gave me a wicked grin. The devil. I’d forgotten just how skilled he was at seduction.

  “This is nice,” I remarked, eyes taking in the interior of the car while trying to ignore his still roaming hands, “Do you like it better than the Rover?”

  “It’s larger—and more practical for our family, but I’ll still be replacing the Rovers. They’re two different beasts entirely and serve different purposes. Plus, more guards, more cars,” Garland replied in typical man-speak.

  The only thing I understood in that statement was that the Escalades were bigger and that our automotive showroom had just expanded.

  When we arrived at the marina, I was slapped with a sort of surreal reality as we made our way to the boat. The yacht was docked in the same spot as before, but the scenery was a little different with the men who followed behind us, as well as the men already stationed outside of it. We were heavily guarded; to say that it was daunting would be an understatement. Especially, considering the purpose for which Garland and I had come. I did not in any way believe this to be more private than our home. At least at home, the guards had absolutely no idea what was going on inside of our bedroom. But here? We could only be doing one thing.

  I was mortified.

  “I don’t know if this was such a good idea,” I said uncertainly, nervously scanning all the faces around us.

  Garland stopped instantly in his tracks and leveled me with a glare. “You’re my wife, Camry, which means I get to fuck you anytime I want, anywhere I choose. Never let anyone make you feel intimidated!” he rebuked harshly, words lashing like a whip. “Take a good look around, sweetheart, because everything you see here belongs to you—that boat, these docks, those men. You hold power. Own that shit, and never apologize for it,” my husband said with authority, sounding like the entitled son-of-a-mobster that he is.

  Damn, that was sexy.

  “Wait, I—I mean, you own theses docks; the entire marina?” I asked in confusion, processing everything that he’d just said.

  “Yes,” he confirmed.

  “Since when?” I questioned, feeling unaccountably put-out that
I didn’t know something so basic.

  “Since some asshole tried telling me where I could and couldn’t dock my boat. I don’t like playing by other people’s rules, I prefer they played by mine,” Garland said flatly; arrogantly.

  Wow. My husband’s a real piece of work.

  He rarely let the rich-dick side of him come out to play, but whenever he did, the shit admittedly pushed all of my hot buttons. Perhaps that made me perverse, but, not one woman could deny the appeal of a confident man who wielded his power like a sword whenever necessary. Unapologetically.

  With a possessive hand pressed to my lower back, Garland led me across the deck and onto the yacht. I was instantly struck with a sense of nostalgia as we entered, it seemed such a long time since I’d last been here. Four or five months, at least. So much had happened in that time, but I’d forgotten just how much I loved this damn boat. It held such great memories.

  “You know, Roman was probably conceived right here,” I said teasingly, smiling up at Garland.

  “There’s a ninety-percent chance he was. However, there will be no conceiving tonight, moya lyubov'. Call me selfish, but I’d like to have your body to myself awhile. I also enjoy the fact that other men can’t seem to take their eyes off of what’s mine,” he responded gruffly, eyes traveling to the guard who was standing near a stool next to the bar.

  When I looked that way—the man quickly averted his eyes, staring straight ahead towards the sliding doors that led out onto the deck. I eyed Garland in bemusement, but he merely stared back, wearing the smug look of a man who’d just won first prize.

  I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. Men and their damn egos.

  “Were you implying I’m not as attractive when pregnant?” I questioned, eyes going back to him with an indignant lift to my brow.

  “I’m implying no such thing; you’re utterly fuckable either way. Right now, though? I couldn’t do to you three months ago all the things I’m about to do to you tonight,” Garland leaned in to murmur next to my ear, before crushing his mouth to mine in a sheer display of ownership.

  He took my breath away, all while giving dude and anyone else who was watching an eyeful. Deliberately. My caveman was pounding his chest, and yes, blatantly announcing that he was absolutely about to go and fuck his sexy wife. Because he could.

  The shit was beyond hot.

  “Let’s go,” Garland said brusquely, grabbing my hand and pulling me impatiently behind him.

  When we entered the stateroom all the lights were already on; it was evident a steward had prepared the room right before our arrival.

  “Champagne?” I questioned in surprise, eyeing the bottle nestled in an ice bucket on top of the small bar.

  “If you’d like. Katherine says it’s okay as long as it’s consumed at least three hours before you nurse again,” Garland said offhandedly, walking over to the dresser and removing his watch before placing it on top.

  I already knew that, of course. But, the fact that Garland had been considerate enough to have asked made me want to attack him; completely naked.

  “I tell you what, let’s save the champagne for after…I’ve got a feeling there’ll be much more to toast to then,” I said in a low, sexy voice, walking up to him and brushing my body against his.

  Garland didn’t hesitate. He fisted a handful of my hair and jerked my head back as his mouth aggressively claimed mine. I moaned, clutching the front of his shirt in both hands before blindly reaching for the buttons. I managed to get only three of them undone before Garland started moving, walking me backward until my body slammed against a solid, cold surface.

  “The dress is sexy, but I like what’s underneath it even better,” he declared, warm palms gliding up my thighs until the material of the black strapless dress bunched at my waist. Then without warning, he tugged at both sides of my black lace panties with such force they ripped easily away from my body. Completely ruined.

  I gasped in shock, but it was swallowed a second later when Garland stuck his tongue in my mouth and a finger inside of my pussy. Moaning helplessly, my knees threatened to buckle as my already aroused body tightened instantly around his finger.

  “I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day,” he rasped, thumb pressing against my clit as his mouth traveled a hot path down my neck.

  “Stop thinking about it…and do it…” I demanded on a moan, desperate for gratification.

  Garland responded by adding a second finger. “I decide when and how I fuck you!” he growled, causing me to throw my head back and whimper, orgasm imminent.

  I clawed at his shirt, damn near ripping the buttons off in my desperate attempt to stay upright. Garland assisted by reaching down to grasp my right knee and hiking it up as far as it would go. He shoved his fingers deeper, moving them in and out of me, stroking my g-spot at every pass, pressing more firmly against my clit.

  And I was completely done for.

  All coherent thought flew from my brain as I exploded; body tightening and convulsing around Garland’s fingers, squeezing them like a vise. I cried my pleasure out loudly, giving a damn good impression of an opera singer. My husband is a God—and I didn’t mind singing his goddamn praises.

  “Good girl…” Garland crooned in encouragement, before swallowing my cries with a kiss.

  I moaned into his mouth until my orgasm was complete, and I came tumbling down from my high. Then, I went totally limp, legs finally losing the battle and giving out completely. He caught me; bearing my bodyweight to keep me from crashing.

  “Don’t give out on me yet…we’re only just getting started,” Garland muttered, sexy voice full of promise.

  I couldn’t even muster the energy to smile as my eyes lifted to his. This was just the appetizer; and I was already tired, I had no idea how I would make it through the main course. However, the look in those intense emerald eyes told me it might not be a problem.

  “I love your eyes…have I ever told you that?” I asked, bringing my palms up to caress his handsome face. “They’re absolutely magnetizing, almost hypnotic, I think I fell in love with them even before I fell in love with you,” I whispered, gliding my tongue across his bottom lip.

  “Fuck, woman…” Garland groaned, crushing his mouth to mine in a hard kiss. “Turn around,” he commanded, then abruptly spun me before I could even comply.

  I found myself pressed up against the glossy wood of the closet door with my hands splayed out in front of me.

  “Let me tell you the many things I love about you,” he whispered harshly, warm breath fanning my neck as he leaned in to kiss it.

  I shivered, then gasped when his hand brushed against the skin of my back; before tugging at the zipper of my dress.

  “I love the sexy sounds you make whenever I touch you,” Garland murmured, slowly undoing my zipper. He slid it all the way down, then gave the dress a yank, exposing every inch of my skin as the material floated down onto the floor. I was completely naked underneath it.

  “I love the way your back curves in, here, right above your ass,” he said, tracing a finger down my spine and to the small of my back. “And, it goes without saying, your ass is my obsession,” he growled, giving the left cheek a firm slap.

  The breath hitched in my throat at the slight sting, but it soothed instantly when he caressed it, taking the bite away. I couldn’t recall him ever doing that before—not that I was complaining. He was in full intense-caveman-mode tonight, and I loved every minute of it.

  “I love everything my hands touch, Camry, every inch of your body,” Garland continued, hands spanning my waist then traveling upwards across my stomach. “I love your soft skin…the way that you smell…the way your body responds to me…and the way your tight pussy wraps perfectly around my cock,” he murmured in between kisses, his hands finally coming to rest on my breasts. “Most of all, wife, I love that you’re mine. I’m the only man who gets to see you naked, the only man who gets to worship your beautiful body.”

  My eyes filled ins
tantly with tears. “That’s the sweetest fucking thing anyone has ever said to me,” I cried, completely undone.

  Garland chuckled. “Sweetheart, I’m only just getting started,” he said ominously, pure wickedness in his voice.

  I tried turning, but he pressed a hand to my back to stop me. “Stay put, Camry, move only when I tell you to,” he commanded.

  Someone was undoubtedly in an authoritative mood tonight.

  I felt Garland’s warmth disappear as he stepped away, then heard the telltale sound of rustling fabric as he removed his shirt. Next, I listened to the metallic clink of his belt as he unfastened it, and then the whine of his zipper as it slid downward.

  “Eyes forward!” he demanded as I tried to sneak a look over my shoulder. The curiosity and anticipation were killing me.

  “You said don’t move—there was nothing about looking,” I said in defense.

  “Ow!” I yelped when his palm came into contact with my ass.

  “Watch your tongue, woman, or you’re going to have a really sore ass before the night is over,” he threatened.

  Seriously? I couldn’t help laughing.

  “Laughing also gets you punished,” Garland warned, warmth returning to my body as he moved up close behind me.

  “Why don’t you just give me all the rules at once, so that I don’t make any missteps and end up with an inflamed ass,” I retorted, words flying out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  Slap!

  “Owwee!” I yelped again, wincing from the sting.

  “The rules are simple, do as I tell you and watch that sharp tongue of yours,” he snarled next to my ear while rubbing away the sting.

  I wasn’t so sure I liked this turn of events.