Wrong Kind of Paradise

by Suzie Grant

  gaze as the flock of unknown faces gathered in closer, and her heart hammered inside her throat.

  “Blac!” she called out, but the deafening drone of different languages swallowed her cry.

  Angel shoved past several people, hoping to catch up, but the tide of unwashed bodies came in and

  she found herself riding the wave until she was washed to the side of the street.

  Why am I so worried?

  Alone, she slipped between the bright painted buildings. She could escape. Easily.

  But where to? She had no ship, no crew, and no clue where to go. Blac was her only chance at

  survival at this point, and she’d lost him too.

  She stumbled over a set of discarded wicker baskets in the alley and righted herself. Her palms

  brushed the cool limestone wall as she turned onto Swan Street, which ran parallel to Broad Street.

  Maybe she could race ahead and meet up with him.

  It was less congested here but curious glances were thrown her way as she ran down the block. She

  stopped at the intersection and peered through the dark sea of people. Blac was nowhere to be seen. She

  called out his name again.

  “Bruno? Max? Anyone!”

  A loud pop split the afternoon peace, and a burning slice singed her shoulder. Angel gasped and fell

  back against the wood structure behind her. A bullet had grazed her shoulder and blood oozed from the

  cut to trickle down her chest.

  Several screams rent the air and people scattered. Angel grasped the wound and whipped around

  trying to locate the shooter. Knocked aside, she couldn’t see a thing, but something told her that bullet was

  meant for her.

  An intuition screamed at her to run.

  Angel whipped around and darted back down the alley she’d come from toward the docks.

  Something eerie slid along her spine as if someone watched her. Seconds later, she paused and realized

  she’d missed the turn. Alarmed, her hands shook. Two more turns and she knew she was completely lost

  in a town she knew nothing about — with someone trying to kill her.

  Her impulsive decision to lose herself in the crowd had come back to haunt her. Skidding to a halt,

  she rounded the next curve and seconds later another musket ball pinged into the building, missing her

  face by mere inches. Jerking back behind the corner, she raced back the way she’d come with her heart

  inside her throat.

  Tears gathered in her eyes and watered her view. Flustered, she couldn’t decide where to go next.

  Her chin trembled and suddenly she wished she’d hung onto Blac’s arm like a leech.

  She had to find him.

  Creeping around the next corner, she knew if she could find the docks again she could return to the

  ship. Surely, Blac would think to look for her there. After all, where else did she have to go?

  She refused to look behind her, focusing instead on her destination. Find the harbor and she would

  find safety on the ship. Several members of Blac’s crew were still there. They would protect her. She

  clung to that hope.

  The tips of the masts came into view finally and she ran for them, deaf to her own sobs. Everything

  around her blurred as she dashed down the wharves and spotted the Revenge at the end of the pier. Relief

  washed over her but whooshed right out of her chest as a vise-like arm scooped her up around the waist.

  She screamed.

  “Running away already?”

  Blac! Angel gasped, turned, and launched into his arms until he was forced to wrap her up. Tears

  flowed freely, and she cared not a whit who saw them. Relief cascaded over her. She’d never felt more

  safe than she did right here in Blac’s arms.

  He patted her awkwardly on the back and then smoothed a hand into a caress. “Angel, are you all

  right? What’s wrong?” he whispered against her temple, placing a tiny kiss there.

  Angel clutched him closer. “S-someone shot me.”

  He set her away from him forcefully to inspect her and caught sight of the wound. His gaze widened

  and he inspected the injury. “An accident?”

  Angel shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. They shot at me twice, Blac.”

  His brows furrowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  Blac gripped her arm and led her back to the ship. His gaze constantly scanned the area, the crowd,

  and he pushed people out of their way. But his hand never left her, his grip never slackened.

  Topside, Blac shouted orders to increase the watch and have the crew return to the ship. “Send out

  a message to her grandfather and let him know he can come retrieve her here. Until then, I want every man

  on lookout.”

  “For what?” Rigo asked.

  “For an assassin.”

  “Have you run into an old enemy?”

  Blac shook his head and ushered her to the hatch. “No, it wasn’t me they were after.”

  “But who knew we were here? Who even knew we were coming?”

  Blac whipped back around toward Rigo. “That’s just it. No one knew but our own crew.”

  Eleven

  The door to the cabin clicked shut behind them. Sunlight danced through the half-closed draperies

  and shed little light into the dim cabin. Two warm hands closed over Angel’s upper arms and pulled her

  around to face Blac. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded before impulsively seeking comfort in his arms. He felt so right. He wrapped her up

  without a word and she closed her eyes. Couldn’t she just stay here? Where it’s safe?

  Ending their embrace, he led her to the table and urged her onto the mahogany surface. “Let me tend

  that wound.”

  An awkward silence filled the air as he hesitated before moving to stand between her thighs. He

  yanked the fabric of her sleeve off and tossed the tattered piece to the floor. His hot fingers seared her

  skin as he examined the wound. The warmth of his breath blew across her shoulder and she shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “No.”

  His slate grey eyes lifted to her face then dropped to her mouth. Awareness rippled through her. He

  cleared his throat and returned his attention to the wound. “’Tis only a flesh wound. The bleeding has

  already ceased.”

  Angel nodded. He would not acknowledge his feelings to her. Not even now.

  Why must he fight this so hard?

  “So I expect your grandfather to respond by the morning. Are you excited to meet him at all?” His

  abrupt change in demeanor and loud voice startled her. She jumped.

  “You seem right glad to be rid of me, Barclay. Regrets over your decision to play guardian so

  soon?” Bitterness laced her tone. Even she could hear it and it sickened her. She didn’t want to be angry

  with him but it sprang from somewhere deep inside.

  His hand lifted to her chin. Warmth entered normally cool eyes. “I have no regrets, Angel. Do you?”

  Yes. I regret that I couldn’t make you love me.

  She gave a soft, sad smile. “It’s a little late for regrets, isn’t it?”

  Silence descended between them as he cleaned the wound and bandaged it up. Heat radiated from

  his large body and seemed to encase her in its cocoon. His actions were efficient, quick but gentle.

  Done with his task he peered down at her. He studied her face as if he was searching for some kind

  of answer. “I miss your smile, Angel. Have you lost it for good?”

  Pain wracked her entire being. For once, she couldn’t mask the hurt inside. Tears blurred her vision

  and
her chin trembled. “You ask for too much, Barclay. My smile died the day my father was taken

  prisoner. If you want my smile to return, then bring him back to me.”

  Or fall in love me, whichever comes first.

  He stepped back but his gaze didn’t waver. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”One

  corner of his mouth lifted a fraction. “It hasn’t been all that long ago since I lost my own parents.”

  Heaviness settled in her chest. He had lost so much as well. “I know,” she whispered.

  “I was angry with my father for a while. He just drank away his life and to hell with everything

  else.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “That’s why I can’t allow myself to lose control. I don’t want be like

  him. Ever. I take my responsibilities seriously. I have to. Otherwise, I’ll end up just like my old man.”

  Angel gasped. “No, you could never be like him, Blac. I — I never meant it like that when I said

  you had to control everything.”

  “Well, now you know why,” he murmured. “But I loved him. The man he once was. The man who

  once spent his every waking moment with his sons. My brother and I had always come first with him.

  That’s the man I most respected. That’s the man I want to be. My responsibilities are important, because

  my family and my word to my family are important. And your father is like family to me. He was so much

  like my own father...how could I ever turn my back on a man who loves his daughter so much he’d give up

  his own life for her?”

  Tears traced twin paths down her cheeks and a hand squeezed her heart at those words. Blac loved

  her father. As much as she did, she suspected. And he was right, her father had surrendered in order to

  better her life...not because he’d wanted to betray her, but because he loved her.

  And she’d been too selfish to see the truth in that. Regret and guilt ate at her insides. How childish

  her actions seemed to her now. If she’d just trusted in her father and Blac as well, she would never have

  been placed in danger. They had only had good intentions, and she had punished them both for it with her

  anger.

  “My father once loved me that way...” Blac whispered.

  “He still does,” she said, reaching for him but he drew back.

  “No, he turned his back on us. But I promise you...I won’t turn my back on you.”

  Angel sobbed at his confession. She understood now why he fought her so hard. How could she

  make him love her when he believed he would betray her father and turn out like his own?

  “I don’t know how you did it, but I am no longer the same man I was. Years ago, I would have

  never imagined turning my back on your father, Angel. But the temptation to do just that grows harder

  every day. I never would have believed myself capable of that.” He moved closer and lowered his lips

  until they stood a breath apart. “I will never again look at another woman without remembering your

  sweet smile.”

  He captured her mouth, his lips soft, searching. He didn’t bombard or seek to control. Instead, he

  offered her the chance to take the lead and she gladly accepted. She deepened the kiss and reveled in the

  texture of his tongue. He tasted of the sea, salt, and rum. Bitter and sweet.

  But before she could truly enjoy this gift he gave of himself he pulled away. His warm palms

  cupped her cheeks and he kissed each of her eyelids. The warmth of his breath blew across her face and

  tickled her lashes.

  “Nothing has changed, Angel. I still mean to carry out my plan. Your father wanted you married to a

  good man, and I mean to see that through.” He crossed the room and cracked open the door. “Even if I

  have to force myself to let you go.”

  ~*~

  “You coward.”

  Blac whipped around at those whispered words, one hand still gripping the doorknob. Fury etched

  sharp lines across her brow and her jaw clamped tight against more words.

  He drew himself up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She gasped at the dismissal. “No? You think I’m too young to understand how I feel? How you feel

  about me? And how afraid you are of it?”

  Blac slammed the door closed again. “Angel,” he started, but gritted his teeth together. “We’ve had

  this conversation before. We’re not having it again.”

  Angel launched herself against him, and a small fist pounded on his back as he turned to leave. Blac

  whirled, seized her by the arms, and shook her, but she was beyond comprehension. Tears coursed down

  her cheeks and she shrieked out her anger.

  “You’re a coward! A yellow-bellied coward, afraid to face the fact that you love me.”

  “Stop it!” he commanded. “Angel, get a hold on yourself.”

  “Why should I? You’re just going to ship me off, anyway!”

  She yanked from his embrace, turned, and retrieved the book from the table, hurling it at his head.

  Blac ducked. A roar of fury escaped him as he stalked toward her.

  “It’s for the best.”

  “For who?” she shouted. “For you? So you can ease your conscience? Get rid of me so you’re no

  longer tempted to do anything irrational? Who really benefits here?”

  “You’re being absurd.”

  “And you’re being an obtuse, pig-headed, uncaring bastard who only thinks of himself.”

  Angel skittered around the table and picked up the inkwell.

  “Angel,” Blac warned. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Too late. The container soared past him and ink spattered across his shirt and face. He gritted his

  teeth. I’m going to strangle her. With pleasure.

  With a single swipe, Blac wiped away the fluid and he was certain it smeared across his cheek. It

  would take days to wear off his skin. Angel ceased crying, her eyes widened to saucers, and then she

  giggled at his appearance.

  Why her laughter sent him over the edge he did not know, but he dove over the table, sliding across

  its surface. Angel gasped and ran. Blac bounded for her and together they fell to the floor.

  She struggled face-down against him. He crawled up her body and pinned her to the floor with his

  weight. And his body caught fire. His arms wrapped around her and his mouth sought and found the niche

  under her ear.

  Her quick intake of breath told him she hadn’t expected that. But the wiggle of her rear against him

  shot a curl of heat through him, and he was lost.

  She twisted toward him and their mouths fused together in a battle of wills. With their lips still

  melded, he lifted off her enough for her roll onto her back. Their bodies came back together like a clap of

  thunder, and he strained against her as if he could crawl into her.

  How could life be so cruel to place the woman of my dreams within reach when I am not allowed

  to touch her?

  He should not touch her. But he did. He should not hold her. But he did.

  The kisses turned languid, searching. He savored the flavor of her and sought to arouse rather than

  conquer. He licked, nipped, and sucked at her lips. His tongue delved into her mouth and dueled with

  hers. “What do you do to me?” he whispered against her mouth. His gaze moved to her extraordinary

  blue-green eyes. He saw little fear, only an eagerness he couldn’t resist.

  Her heavy-lidded eyes watched him carefully. “I believe you are the one working the magic here,

  Barclay.”

  He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit with
care. “There is no magic here, Angel. Just

  pure— ” his tongue licked a path to her chin— “unbridled —” he whispered, making his way to her ear

  only to whisper once more — “passion.”

  Her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him close. A sorceress, she inflamed every nerve in

  his body and ripped asunder his every defense.

  I can’t fight this anymore. He was d efeated, his promise a memory now.

  He ravaged her mouth, a kiss fraught with need too long denied. And she gave as good as she got.

  Slender fingers clawed at his back and neck as she pulled him closer. Her body arched into him,

  wrapping him into her embrace.

  Heat exploded inside him and blood pulsed through his veins. His body caught fire. With every

  press of her skin, he burned.

  He wanted her like he’d never wanted another woman. Did she know how much she affected him?

  Would she ever guess at the depth of emotion she’d evoked in him? Would she ever know how much he

  cared?

  He ground his body against her and reeled at the sensation. She fit perfectly. Impatiently, he tore at

  the strings of her shirt until the gaping fabric revealed her breasts. And he devoured the offerings with

  both his hands and his mouth. Perfect. It was the only word to describe her body.

  His heartbeat roared in his ears. His tongue laved at the tips as if he was starved for the sounds she

  made. And she did not disappoint. Tiny, whispered pleas and heavy panting answered his unspoken

  request.

  He squeezed the opposite mound before moving on to lavish it with his attention. She lifted her hips

  against him, and need pulsed through his sex. Her breathy moans tormented him, drawing him across a

  sensual torture rack, wreaking havoc with his senses.

  The tempest between them fused and they drew from each other breath, passion, and need.

  Sharp claws dug into the skin of his neck and his body roared to life. He arched against her softness

  and plundered her mouth.

  Her eagerness inflamed him and he didn’t want to rush it, but control slipped from his grasp. She

  met him halfway and urged him on. Her persistence ignited something carnal inside him and drove him

  past whatever resistance he’d had left.

  Do not lose control.

  But his body didn’t listen as it strained toward that summit, ready to hurl itself off into the abyss