“Honeypot.” His lips press together. “I was in Georgetown checking out a situation. Coed there seemed like she needed help. I helped her.”
“With your dick?” Norse interrupts.
Davidson cups himself crudely. “The best kind of comfort there is. Gets ’em inside and out.”
Norse musters up a small laugh. I don’t even give a courtesy one, because there’s a shitload of pain in Davidson’s voice.
A cab pulls up and I direct the driver to Dulles. Norse climbs into the front seat, allowing Davidson and me the back one.
“Where is she now?” I ask quietly as we move out.
“Don’t know.”
“You going back for her?”
He stares at me. “Maybe.”
“To kill her or kidnap her?”
“Can it be both?”
That makes me laugh. “Yeah, shit, why not?”
Davidson gives a weak chuckle. “What’s this about Ava? I thought you gave up women in some kind of eternal Lent sacrifice.”
Only Garcia and Davidson knew I’d never had sex. The rest of the men thought I was just very choosy and discreet. Worked for me. Of course, now that I’ve practically banged Ava on top of them, it’s hard for them to square that with my past. And since I’m a fucking mess, it’s hard to clarify things for anyone when I haven’t worked it all out in my own mind. I want Ava. I need her but I can’t keep her. “I’m still cursed if that’s what you’re asking. After all, Garcia’s dead.”
“That’s some kind of bullshit,” Davidson snorts. “Garcia would be the first to congratulate you on busting a nut on some girl. And if it’s more than that, all the better.”
“I don’t know what it is.”
I lean my head against the door of the cab and close my eyes to signal that I’m done with the conversation. Davidson leaves me to my thoughts.
I tell myself I have people. I have Davidson back. We lost Garcia but mercenaries have short life spans. We’re all on borrowed time. We should have died back in the desert. Even before then, outside the wire, some IED or enemy fire should have killed us. I’ve been on any number of missions and hits that could have seen me dead, but I survived. Maybe it was me who should have died in the jungle and not Garcia.
But I’m alive.
And Ava’s back at the island. Healing. Getting ready to leave, if she’s not already gone. In a desperate time, she laid her hands on me. She wanted me to save Rose. She wanted me to save her. I got half of that right but it’s not enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
AVA
I don’t wait to get started on my new, self-appointed job here on the island. I figure someone will pull me aside if I’m fucking with things that shouldn’t be fucked with. I hunt down Fernanda and she gets a few other women, and we make a list of immediate needs and then not so immediate. I’m sad to hear what the immediate needs are: tampons, decent underwear, bras, birth control, medication for STIs since several of the girls came from brothels and have recurring issues, feminine hygiene products, even deodorant. It’s clear they don’t feel comfortable asking for more than the basics, not when their lives have been saved by these men and they’d feel guilty asking for more. That’s all right. I’ll ask for more on their behalf. It makes me feel good to help them.
I couldn’t help Rose, but maybe her death can propel me into helping a lot of others. It’s far more rewarding than hand modeling, at the very least. I feel good about this. I can help Rafe really make his island a refuge and a home, instead of just a place for these women to hide.
And most of all, I can help make them less afraid. After what I’ve been through in the last few weeks, this is important to me.
Because I’m staying, I put a few things on the list for me, too.
After I get the list, I head to Bennito. “I need you or some of your guys to go to the mainland and go shopping for this stuff.”
“I can go,” he says, then his brows draw together. “When did you want to leave?”
“I’m not going. I’m staying.”
He grins like a naughty boy. “Uh-huh.”
“What?”
“You’re dickmatized. Boss must be good.”
“It’s none of your business,” I say primly, but I’m smiling. I might be a bit dickmatized. So what? I happen to love the rest of the package, too.
He gestures at the list. “Seriously, though, tampons? Panties? Are you fucking with me?”
“I’m not, and I want those specific brands.” I point at the paper. I’ve taken time to write down very specific brands, sizes, and types. “I don’t care how long it takes to gather up, this is the stuff we need. It’s very important to the women on the island.”
“You speaking for them now?”
“I am,” I say, and lift my chin. “A lot of them have been abused in the past and they’re afraid to ask for basic stuff or to tell you that you’re buying a crap brand. They feel more comfortable coming to someone like me.”
He snorts but scans the list again. “I can head out and get this shit today, I guess. You want to come with?”
“Not this time.” I’m afraid if I leave the island, I won’t come back again. Like he’ll dump me on the shore with a mention of “boss’s orders” and then I’ll never see Rafe again. I’m keeping my ass planted here until I get to talk to Rafe. Then, if he really wants me to go, I’ll tuck my tail between my legs and head home to figure out what to do as a hand model that has ugly hands.
Bennito checks over the list again. “Extremely sexy lace bra, size 34DD? Matching garters and stockings in black? Red stilettos, size nine? Lubricant? Handcuffs? You sure this is all for the ladies on the island?”
There’s no point in lying. “No, that shit is for me. It’s a welcome home present for your boss.” I plan on seducing Rafe until he’s so lost that he won’t possibly think it’s a good idea for us to split up again. “Any other questions?”
He grins. “Just one. Can I watch?”
“Not on your life.”
• • •
Bennito and two of the men return late that night with the stuff I’ve asked for, and I spend the next morning with Fernanda, distributing it and setting up a central “supply closet” in the old hotel. Two other women and I have keys to it, and we discuss setting up regular distributions and what we should ask the men to get next. It’s sad to see the light shining in a sixteen-year-old ex-prostitute’s eyes when she gets underwear with decent elastic or her baby gets a new blanket. It all makes me more determined that these ladies should have a better life. The island is gorgeous and safe, but the men won’t know what they need if the women are too scared to ask for anything.
I get hugged by woman after woman, who exclaim their excitement in Portuguese, and I make a mental note to ask for some Rosetta Stone disks the next time Bennito heads out, so I can learn the basics. Fernanda looks happy, though, so it’s a start.
Buzz is that the men are returning home that afternoon, so I take off to make myself pretty. Everything has to be perfect for my seduction tonight. I shave every inch of my body, even my pussy, because I remember he likes that I’m bare. I lotion up my limbs with my favorite sweet-scented body lotion, and take time curling my hair until it’s big and bouncy. I put on light makeup—mostly mascara and eyeliner—so my eyes look big and luminous.
I put on the bra and adjust the straps. It’s a push-up bra (Bennito’s such a horndog) and my tits look even bigger than normal and jiggle as if they’re about to fall out of the fabric. That’s all right, because I don’t plan on wearing this for long. I put on the garters and stockings, deliberately without panties, because I want to blow Rafe’s mind. Last comes a pair of red stilettos and matching red lipstick.
There’s no making my wrist bandage sexy, so I tie a bit of lacy ribbon on it. My bullet wound is two spots bandaged on my front and my back, and a lot of bruises. There’s nothing I can do about that except hope that it doesn’t detract from the overall picture.
I’ve also invaded Mendoza’s room. The bed has newly washed sheets, and I’ve straightened the place up since there was laundry everywhere. It’s obvious it’s a guy’s room, because there’s almost nothing on the walls except for a shelf that holds a bunch of sports video games. I fix up the bed and dust it with rose petals, then set a few strategic candles in the room and light them. I turn on soft, sexy music.
Then I recline on the bed and wait.
According to Bennito, the men should be home any minute now, and I’m a bit nervous. Is Rafe going to think I’m too presumptuous? Too forward? I eye the handcuffs I’ve put on one corner of the bed. They’re part of my plan. If he doesn’t want to listen to all the reasons I think I should stay, I’m going to tie him down (sexily) and show him (also sexily) how good it will be if I stay.
The door opens, and I fluff my hair, waiting for Rafe to get a look at me.
The man that walks in is . . . not Rafe. He’s tall, blond, and surprised to see me. Behind him is another man, good-looking, pale . . . also not Rafe.
I squeal and rip the blankets up, covering myself just as Rafe steps in behind the guys. Their eyes are wide.
The blond grins. “You must be Ava.”
Rafe looks shocked to see me.
That’s all right, I’m pretty freaking shocked myself. I hold the blankets over my pelvis (God, I am totally shaved and they’ve seen everything) and try to think of something to say. “Um . . . yes.”
“I thought you’d be gone,” Rafe says in a low voice. He’s staring at the rise of my tits as they spill out of the bra. I probably should have covered them.
Nah, he can look his fill. His friends can, too, so they can see what he’s getting in his bed.
I arch and fling my hair back over my shoulders, recovering my groove. “I decided I was going to stay, and I thought I’d try and convince you why it was a good idea.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him and hope he’s not noticing my bullet wound, and staring at my sexiness instead.
He adjusts himself and nudges both the blond guy and the new guy. “Quit fucking staring at my girl.”
“You’re nailing that?” the new guy says. “Damn.”
I tilt my head at Rafe. “He can if he wants to.” I pat the bed, ignoring the fact that I’ve probably strewn rose petals everywhere. “Wanna come and talk about it?”
“Rafe, my man, those are handcuffs on the bed,” one of them whispers. “If you pass this up, you’re a goddamn idiot.”
“You guys get the fuck out of here already,” Rafe growls. He moves forward and tugs the sheets over my breasts. “Quit goddamn staring.”
The blond grins. “We just came to get the new Madden game.” He moves to the wall and plucks a few of the games off the shelf. “Though we’ll stick around if—”
“Go,” Rafe snarls.
They laugh, elbow each other like a pair of frat boys, and exit the room. Rafe shuts the door behind them quickly and then locks it.
He turns to me. “Ava.”
“Rafe,” I say, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing upright. I’m at my full height now, and he can see my bra, my garters, my lack of panties, and my freshly bare everything. I strut across the room in my red heels toward him. “You and I need to talk.”
“That’s what this is about?” he asks. “Talking?”
“Nope,” I say, and grab him by the front of his shirt. I tug him toward the bed and he follows willingly. “This is about me saying that I missed you.” I direct him to the edge of the bed and he sits down with a thump. I unbutton his shirt, revealing a wifebeater undershirt and lots and lots of hard, brown muscle. I sigh with pleasure at the sight. Man, I’ve missed looking at him. He’s gorgeous. I even dig the scars. I strip off his shirt, and his gaze flicks down to my bare pussy, inches away from his mouth. His hands move to my ass, to cup me and drag me forward, but I shake my head. “Lie back.”
He does, and I crawl over his body to retrieve the handcuffs, then take one wrist and cuff it to a bedpost. This causes my wound to twinge with pain, but I’m more interested in seduction than a few aches and pains. Besides, Rafe’s not putting up a lick of protest as I crawl all over him, which excites me. Instead, he’s gazing up at me. “What’s all this for, Ava?”
“Persuasion,” I tell him. Then I move down his chest and start kissing skin. “I need to convince you of all the reasons why I need to stay here on the island.”
He groans. “Baby. I failed you.”
I sit up straight, just before I’m about to lick his belly button. Is that what all this is about? “How did you fail me?”
His gaze is hungry as it feasts on my body. He looks me up and down, as if he doesn’t know where to rest his gaze. It’s probably a sensory overload for him, which makes me proud. He’s not talking, so I straddle him and rub my pussy on his bare stomach. I’m wet already, because seducing him turns me on.
“Talk and I’ll let you touch me,” I say, reaching between my legs and beginning to play with my clit as I sit on top of him. He reaches for me with his free hand and I slap it away. “Nope. You haven’t earned that yet. Talk to me. Tell me why you keep trying to send me away.”
“Rose,” he says gruffly. “I know you were with me because you wanted to save her. And I failed you.”
I sigh and shake my head at him. “Rose got herself into trouble, and I’m the one that failed her. And if you think I slept with you because of bribery, you’re an asshole.” I lean forward and jab a finger into his chest. “I slept with you because I thought you were sexy and I wanted to. Because I’m crazy about you. Still am.”
“And Rose?” he asks.
Boy, he’s so sure that he’s impossible to love, isn’t he? My jabbing finger trails down his chest, and my other hand is sliding up and down against my clit. “I’m still processing her death, you know? It doesn’t feel real to me. Like I might turn the corner and there’s Rose, flirting with some old businessman.” My breath catches and I have to stop for a moment. Crying over my best friend while I’m sexily straddling my guy is not the look I’m trying to achieve. “I just . . . I’m torn between being devastated that I lost my best friend and furious that she was such an idiot. And I do feel a bit lost without her, and it doesn’t help that you keep pushing me away when I need you the most.”
The look on his face is stricken. “I’m sorry, baby.” He reaches for me again. “I just . . . you don’t belong here. You’d be miserable and feel trapped.”
“Are you kidding? I love you.” The words choke from my mouth. “Wherever you are, I want to be there. Even if it’s back in the jungle. Say the word and I’ll go there with you. I just want to be at your side. Showing you that you’re worthy of being loved.” I lean forward again and press a kiss to his mouth. “Because I love you, Rafe Mendoza. All the bullshit aside, all the people and the bargains and the islands and the jungles and jobs and whatever other crap you think might stand in our way, I love you, and without you, I’m just sad, lonely Ava. And I’m tired of being her when Rafe’s Ava is so much better.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
RAFAEL
I stare wordlessly at her because she’s struck me mute and dumb. I press her face into my neck because I can’t look at her and say what I need to.
“There are no nightclubs here. You can’t want to stay. What about the city? And parties? And fancy restaurants? There’s very little shopping here. You’re a model. Your hands will heal and you can go and model again.”
“And I can’t do that from the island?” She pushes away from my embrace. “Did Bennito not get on a plane today and get me all of this?” Her hand cups her satin-covered breast.
“That plane is two screws away from falling apart. I’m not putting you in that.” I scowl.
“Baby, it doesn’t matter. I wanted to live in New York because that’s where Rose lived. She’s not there anymore.”
“The fact that I couldn’t save her is even more reason you should be leaving,” I growl harshly.
&nb
sp; Her lips quiver. “I don’t know why Rose was there but no one could save her.”
I feel myself weakening. My desire for her is overcoming every honorable instinct. Insidious parts of me whisper that I can afford a better plane with the money the government deposited in my account after I delivered the goods. Davidson was just extra security for them. There are plenty of men coming and going from the island, undertaking different trips. Even if she wants to take up modeling again, there’d be transportation available. And as for keeping her safe, there is no place on Earth safer for Ava than this island, this room, and my bed. “Even if I believe you, what is there for you here?”
She gives me a small, secretive smile and unlocks the handcuff.
Disappointed, I rub my wrist as I watch her walk over to the French doors, admiring the flex of her bubble-shaped ass. I could watch her endlessly.
With a flick of her wrist, she throws the doors open and turns to me, gesturing. “What do you see?”
I rise to stand behind her, looking at the grove of palm trees separating us from the beach and then the ocean. The sun is setting and the water looks as if it’s been painted by a master artist in golds and blues and silvers. “Sand. The ocean. Stars.” You. Your beautiful body, your amazing spirit. I see all the hope I’ve never had but wanted . . . in you.
She laughs. “No, over there.”
I follow the line of her pointed finger where a few of the women that we have brought with us from the favela are taking down laundry that they hung earlier in the day. Their colorful dresses wave like flags in the light breeze, and a couple of the children run in and out of the women’s legs, playing tag.
“People?” I don’t know where she’s going with this.
“No, baby, this is a family. Rose was my family. She loved me. Maybe she had shit taste in men, but she had the hugest heart. She never backstabbed or gossiped about the other girls. She was the first one to congratulate you when you got a job, even if the job was the one that she had wanted. She would genuinely be happy for you. I miss her so much. I miss my family.”
Last Hope Page 26