by Tessa Bailey
While muffling her screams with his mouth, Henrik gave her the full weight of his hips, his cock, pressing her down into the ground. “Look up here. Look at me, Lish. I want to make sure you know I mean what I say.” Still pushing deep into the heaven of her pussy, he fell forward onto his elbows, capturing the sides of her face with his hands, kissing her with tongue. “I’m in love with you. This is how I show it.” He slid his cock out halfway, then bucked forward. Back and forward. Stealing her little whimpers with his lips. “I show it by killing anyone who tries to hurt you. And trying to fill you up…the way you make me feel so damn full. Just in a different way. Understand me?
“Yes,” Ailish whispered unevenly, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs. “Yes, I understand you. Show me anyway.”
As Ailish said the words, she locked her ankles behind his back, but Henrik shook his head, telling her without vocalizing that he needed more. “Over my shoulders, baby. You’re going to get a deep fucking.”
Those sweet pink lips of hers fell open as she complied with his order. With what looked like very little effort, she bent her body in half, her ankles meeting in a crisscross behind his head. “Like this?” she breathed.
Henrik tested the new angle and hissed out a breath at the incredibly narrow space he had to work with. The wet friction. “Goddammit, you’re a flexible little thing, too. Aren’t you?” She clenched her inner walls around him, forcing him to stop and regroup, lest he climax before she got hers. “It’s going to be a while before we go out in public, Ailish. Or somewhere I can’t get you in a dark corner to take my cock. I’m a fucking fiend for this pussy.”
“Good—” Her response broke off into a closemouthed scream as Henrik braced his hands on the ground, her ankles on either side of his head. And essentially began executing push-ups. Up and down. Lowering his dick into the squeeze of flesh between her thighs and drawing back out. Again and again. With each push-up, Henrik became more forceful until their sweaty flesh was slapping against each other slapslapslap. “Oh my God,” she choked out, her head tossing side to side on the ground. “I’m…I’m coming. I’m coming.”
As if he couldn’t feel it. When her core tightened up and started to shudder around his pained flesh, Henrik had to push extra hard to go deep. It spelled the end for him, an end so goddamn fulfilling, his hearing cut out before returning amplified. “Fuck. Fuck. Me, too. Spread your legs for it.” He didn’t wait for Ailish to comply, grasping both ankles tensed up on his shoulders and yanking them wide, delivering his final pump on a growl, teeth bared against her ear. “You feel it all?” He heaved the words, his body convulsing. “My body wants to make you pregnant, baby. I do. And I will. You feel it?”
Her answering nod was vigorous, sweat dripping down her temples as her own orgasm continued to sweep through her body, milking him in the process. As drained as he felt when his climax passed, Henrik forced his eyes to stay open. To watch her. She’d invited him to clear his head by making love to her—and Henrik could admit it had worked, but well beyond what Ailish had likely intended. As he looked down at the beautiful woman with a matching heart beneath him, he could see his future. Their future.
He would annihilate anyone who tried to deprive them of it. And he had a bad feeling it might happen sooner rather than later.
Chapter Nineteen
Ailish could admit to being a little shell-shocked as she leaned against the wall of Henrik’s room, waiting for ten minutes to pass before joining him in her father’s basement office. Henrik had wanted to make sure the house was clear before she left the general safety of the room, making sure she had a weapon to protect herself while they were separated. Her body felt sore, with twinges in her buttocks, thighs…and more private regions. Every time she moved, she could feel his hands, his breath bathing her neck and shoulders. His rigid flesh sinking into her body. The sense memory felt amazing. The act of belonging to another person. A person who understood her, had seen something good inside her during the barest of encounters. Knowing Henrik belonged to her, too, was even more incredible.
…the way you make me feel so full…
She did that to him, when she’d never felt the capability to make another person love her enough to stay. Not her mother or friends. Her father’s odd brand of affection had only ever been conditional. He provided it as long as Ailish was useful. Henrik was the opposite of those broken relationships. He’d barreled through all her faults, her past, with a bulletproof vest on and seemed almost anxious to take on any obstacle on her behalf. The gravity between her and Henrik had always been there, waiting to be fully explored, and tonight? They’d explored. Or marauded, to be precise. Ailish felt conquered. And like a conqueror all at the same time.
Henrik loved her. Whatever trust issues she’d had upon leaving Chicago hadn’t just disappeared. Maybe they never would. They were still a part of herself she needed to work on, grow around, and overcome, but when Henrik said he loved her? There wasn’t a doubt in her mind he was telling the truth. She’d wanted to say it back, but craved the same experience he’d had. Of doing it his own special way. She wanted that chance. To make it something they would remember. Once her feelings were out there in the world, she would probably never stop saying the words. She had years to say them.
But first, they had to get through tonight.
Ailish checked the digital clock and added some steel to her spine. Time to move. As Henrik had asked—with an unprompted please—she held the necklace up to her mouth and spoke. “We’re moving now.” She breathed through her nose, trying to get a handle on the adrenaline spiking in her blood. “There are three men and one woman in the house, including Caine. The men are armed.”
Praying that Derek had heard her and the listening device hadn’t malfunctioned, Ailish opened the door and crept through without a sound. She focused on the heel-toe sequence of every step, careful to avoid floorboards she remembered being creaky. When Ailish reached the living room, she crept along the living room wall and opened the basement door, taking the stairs slowly. Just before she reached the bottom, Henrik appeared, waving her down. “We’re all clear down here, baby.” He pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s get this done so I can get you out of here.”
“I’m getting you out of here, too.”
The right side of his mouth tipped up. “Yeah. You are.”
He stooped down and lifted, bringing Ailish with him so she could kiss him on the mouth. And she did. With what was probably an inappropriate enthusiasm level for a woman who’d just been given the orgasm to top all orgasms upstairs.
Henrik pulled away first, shaking his head. “I can’t wait until there’s no time limit on how long I can kiss you.” He tilted his head to suck her earlobe between his teeth. “How long I spend tasting you.”
Ailish felt his erection against her belly and swallowed hard. “How long I get to taste you, too,” she murmured.
His chest vibrated with a laugh. “This equal measure stuff really works for me. Have I mentioned that?”
“I love you,” she blurted, only catching a fleeting glimpse of his dumbstruck expression before wedging her forehead between his neck and shoulder. “Dammit. I was going to wait for a special time. You ruined it.”
A long pause paused. “How did I ruin it, baby?”
She lifted her head and blew out a breath. “By looking at me.”
“I’m not going to stop doing that anytime soon.”
“I’m not going to stop loving you anytime soon.”
“Equal measure,” he rasped, running his gaze all over her face. “Don’t tell me you love me again until we’re safe. I want every bit of motivation I can get my hands on.”
Ailish could feel Henrik’s regret as he stepped back. “Let’s get this done. I want to get to a place where my need for you only makes us late for work or miss dinner reservations. Okay, baby?”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t help but stare at him after those beautiful words, but somehow
found the wherewithal to precede Henrik into her father’s darkened office. It was a far cry from the swanky digs upstairs, more functional than anything else. A desk with one rolling chair, another identical one facing it. Ailish had always harbored suspicions that her father brought men down there to be interrogated. Had they been tied to that rolling chair while she slept upstairs?
Guilt trickled inside Ailish’s throat as she moved to the far wall where built-in cabinets were located. She opened the far left door and crouched down to look over the familiar metal box housing countless secrets. Ailish opened her mouth to tell Henrik she required more light to enter the combination, but he beat her to the punch, shining a key-chain flashlight at the numbered silver knob, illuminating it.
Ailish closed her eyes and recalled the set of numbers she’d housed in her brain so long. It was the date her mother had left: 09-23-08. Her fingers moved right to left, muscle memory kicking in on the second revolution, until she heard the click and the safe door bumped ajar.
Henrik squeezed her shoulder. “Well done, Ailish.” His praise eased the pressure inside her chest somewhat, making it easier to reach for the plastic freezer bag full of documents and photographs. “What is it?” Henrik asked.
“It’s blackmail.” She swallowed. “Every cop, every politician in Chicago, and even some baseball players who’ve had dealings with Caine. He always makes sure there’s something to use against them if they try to renege or back out.” Ailish closed the safe and stood, holding the bag out to Henrik, who shone the thin beam of light over the bag. “Caine never leaves behind anything. No one ever talks. But we can use these people to testify in exchange for a deal. Kind of like I did.”
Henrik jostled the bag to get a good look at the contents and whistled under his breath. “I already see a few faces that sure as hell won’t want to be recognized.” He turned off the light and focused on Ailish. “I need to make sure you’re good with this, Ailish. He’s your father, bastard or not. I wouldn’t expect you to feel nothing about giving him up to the police.”
Running a finger over the plastic bag, she thought back to the years she’d spent confused about sick, violent words overheard spoken between men in her house. The unsafe feeling. The conflict and guilt over bookmaking for Caine. There would always be a bond with the man who’d fathered her, but a daughter’s loyalty could only go so far. And with the discovery of her second set of books, she would be responsible for untold pain, and this time, it could kill her. “I’m good, Growler.”
“All right, Lish.” Henrik shoved the bag into the back waistband of his pants and removed his gun from the inner pocket of his jacket, checking the clip and replacing it with a metallic slide. “On the way out, you need to stay right behind me. Always behind me, unless I tell you different. Please.”
She went up on her toes and kissed his mouth. “Right behind you.”
Henrik gave Ailish one more long, memorizing look before leading her up the stairs. The silence was so heavy, it weighed down on her eardrums as they paused at the top of the staircase, staying perfectly still while listening for sounds in the house. Then they were moving again, traversing the entryway, her focus on Henrik’s hand where it rested on the butt of his gun. They passed the front door, heading for the side entrance instead which would let them out onto the south side of the property. Where hopefully Derek and the squad would be waiting.
As soon as they entered the kitchen, Ailish knew something was wrong. She lunged forward and laid a hand on Henrik’s back, his muscles tensing beneath her touch. Alarm buzzing along her nerve endings, Ailish turned in a circle, trying to locate the reason for her prickling sixth sense. On the kitchen island was a half-eaten apple that hadn’t gone brown from exposure to air yet. Which meant—
“Midnight snack?” Caine’s voice snapped from behind them.
Before Ailish could even register fear, Henrik had wrapped an arm around her waist and slung her backward, behind his body. Since she couldn’t see over Henrik’s towering frame, Ailish turned her head to the side, watching the horrifying scene play out in the kitchen window’s reflection. As Henrik backed her up against the marble island, his gun was already drawn, pointing directly at Caine. But her father’s stance was identical, his own weapon leveled in Henrik’s direction.
“No,” she whispered, curling her hand in Henrik’s T-shirt. Please don’t let this be happening. Please.
Caine wore jeans and no shirt, his aged tattoos seeming to sag in the murkiness of the reflection. “My own daughter, huh?” His laughter made goose bumps break out on Ailish’s skin. “You know, I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t see this coming. Didn’t think you had the backbone for it.”
“She has more backbone than you do. Must have gotten it from her mother.” Henrik’s voice was steady. “Put your gun down, Caine. It’s over. There are two of us. If you fire on me, I will still put you down, and Ailish will get out with everything the police need to eliminate your operation.”
“Funny you should mention her mother. And bones.” Her father’s smile was almost melancholy, but it didn’t match his mocking tone. “All those hours spent swimming in the pool, Ailish. Back and forth. No idea your mother was buried just a few feet from the diving board the whole time.”
The scream began in Ailish’s belly, but grief made it lose momentum on the way to her throat, emerging as nothing more than a half wail, half sob. Her knees tried to buckle behind Henrik, but he reached behind with the arm not holding his weapon, grasping her to his back in an upright position. It felt as though her insides were pouring blood, but through sheer force of will, she commanded herself not to lose even the twisted respect she’d earned from her father. Later. She could rail over the unfairness of her mother’s death later, when their lives weren’t at stake.
Swallowing a lung’s worth of oxygen, Ailish slid her own weapon free, stepped to Henrik’s right, and aimed the barrel at Caine. Without looking at Henrik, she could sense his surprise, but addressed only her father. “Weren’t expecting that, were you?”
His cocky expression slipped, but snapped back into place. “This morning I might have been surprised. Now?” He backed up a step. “Not so much. Considering I was woken up by the arrival of someone you might just recognize.”
The lifted gun entered the kitchen first, pointed at Ailish. Henrik made a broken sound to her left, but she could only stare at the man who joined them in the kitchen, walking with noticeable difficulty, a permanent wince on his face. Gordy. The man she’d shot in Michigan. “Hey there, little girl.”
Caine traded a look between Henrik and Ailish. “Thought I was losing control of my men, here. Every time I sent them after you, they didn’t come back. Turns out I passed a little thirst for violence on to my daughter.” Mind rebelling over her father’s words, she didn’t notice Henrik trying to sidle closer, until her father shouted at him to stay put. Then he turned his head slightly to address Gordy. “Is that the man you saw Ailish with at the campsite?”
“Yeah. That’s him.” Gordy made a rough noise and clamped his non-gun hand over his side. “They were inside together for a while until she split. That’s when I followed her.” He cocked his gun with a sneer. “That’s when the bitch shot me. And he took down Vick.”
Beside her, Henrik stood still as a statue, but Ailish sensed a building need to act. Could sense his fear on her behalf. “Caine, she’s your daughter. You sent these men to kidnap her. You can’t blame her for defending herself.” His chest lifted and fell slowly. “You’re not going to let him kill her over it. She’s your blood.”
“No, I was thinking I’d do it myself,” Caine answered, transferring his gun from Henrik to Ailish.
With a bellow, Henrik dived for Ailish, firing his gun at Caine as he closed the distance between them. The bullet struck Caine in the collarbone. He staggered, but didn’t go down, only taking a too-brief second to lift the gun again. When Ailish saw Gordy take aim at Henrik, she tightened her finger on the trigger of her own gun—
>
The kitchen…exploded. At least, that’s how it seemed, as Ailish went from a slow-motion existence to rapidly moving reality. Connor and Derek appeared in the doorway behind her father and Gordy, holding black gun muzzles to their heads. The door behind her was kicked open, Bowen storming in with a ruthless expression on his face, Erin close on his heels looking gleeful.
“Drop the guns and slide them toward Bowen.” Derek shouted. “Bowen, raise your hand.”
Bowen picked the half-eaten apple on the island and took a bite. “That’d be me,” he said around a mouthful. “Send ’em on down.”
When her father and Gordy laid the guns down, Relief blew in like a gale wind, smoothing out the daggers in Ailish’s chest. Safe. They were safe. It was over, and her father couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. Especially not in her name.
Ailish let her weapon fall to her side and reached out for Henrik.
And then her world slowed down again. In her periphery, she saw her father dive for his discarded gun and lift it—but instead of aiming it at her, he pointed it in Henrik’s direction. Her father’s body jerked with the impact of two gunshots, fired from where, she hadn’t a clue. She only knew the next bullet fired was coming from Caine’s gun and it would hit Henrik. The man she loved.
Without another thought, Ailish moved in front of Henrik, white-hot pain tearing through her body almost immediately upon surrounding him in the broadest embrace she could muster. The agony was so consuming, she couldn’t tell where the bullet had struck, only that it felt like a hundred bullets instead of one, clawing at every layer of skin, setting her on fire. Henrik’s arms were around her, though, and that somehow made the pain worth it. He was yelling her name, interspersed with curses, his voice breaking, and hell…at least that meant he was alive.