Rogue (Phoenix Rising)

by Brynley Blake

  “No!” Her eyes are wide with fear. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

  With a sigh, I take her hand and we go up to the deck. She stays close by me as I ready the boat to sail, and I finally put her to work helping me to distract her. Once we’ve put some miles between us and I feel comfortable we’re not being followed, I convince her to go shower, knowing it will make her feel better, while I make breakfast. When she returns about twenty minutes later, looking more relaxed, we sit in the early morning sun and eat the egg sandwiches I’ve made.

  I watch her, amazed at how different she is from that nervous girl on the dock in Coron, how much more like that confident sex siren in Vegas. In just three days, McKenzie’s normally pale skin has turned the color of latte, and her already blonde hair is shot through with lighter streaks. But her demeanor is what has changed the most. Judging by what I’ve heard and seen of her so far, a few weeks ago, handing her a loaded gun and telling her to shoot first and ask questions later should have sent her looking for a paper bag. Instead, she stepped up like a trooper.

  She catches me looking at her and smiles, and something unfamiliar catches somewhere in me. I tell myself it’s just my dick’s natural reaction whenever she’s around, but I have the uncomfortable suspicion it has nothing to do with that.

  “Any idea who was on your boat?” she asks.

  “Hell if I know. There’s a splinter group of terrorists that sometimes boards boats in this region looking for hostages, but I don’t think that’s who he was. He seemed to be looking for something specific in your bag.”

  I watch her carefully, looking for some sign that she knows what they were after, some clue that she knows how valuable the list is, but she just looks puzzled.

  “What could I have that anyone would want?”

  She’s either an amazing actress, or she has no idea what her brother had been doing.

  “Do you still have your brother’s list?” I ask, trying to feign a casualness I don’t feel. I’d bet my left nut that someone is trying to find the weapons he stashed somewhere, besides me.

  “Yes. I keep it in a Ziploc bag in my bra,” she says sheepishly. “Why? Do you think someone was after it?”

  I shrug. “You did tell that prick at the bar last night there was a pot of gold at the end. Who knows? Maybe he thought you were serious.”

  She makes a face at me. “You were just jealous.”

  “Damn straight I was. I didn’t like the way he was touching you.”

  “You don’t own me, Noah.” Her hands are on her hips, but she’s smiling.

  “I intend to.”

  Her smile fades as her pupils dilate. “Oh.”

  Flustered, she takes a sip of water, then sets it down. “I don’t think Sebastian was really interested in the list. He was just being nice.”

  “Nice, my ass,” I mutter under my breath.

  She laughs at that, and this time it’s definitely my dick that responds. And everything else.

  “He did think my ass was nice,” she teases.

  “That’s it.” I lunge forward and haul her toward me, bringing her lips to mine. She sighs as she opens her mouth to me, her tongue stroking mine. I can’t wait to taste her, touch her, to have her again. When I let her go, we’re both panting.

  “Be careful how you tease me, or I’ll have to spank you again.”

  The heat that flares in her eyes tells me she finds that as appealing as I do.

  We eat in silence for a few minutes, and then she asks, “Do you really think someone wants the list?”

  I shrug. “Any reason why they would?” I try to keep my tone neutral.

  “I don’t know. I mean, really, why would they? It’s just, something else kind of weird happened when I was in Costa Rica. I figured it was just a coincidence, but then this…” She trails off.

  “What happened in Costa Rica?” My question comes out sharper than I’d intended.

  “Never mind. It sounds crazy. I’m just being paranoid. It’s my specialty.”

  “Hey.” I wait until she looks up at me. “Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs, and we all do the best we can. Don’t ever be embarrassed for surviving.”

  She nods. “Thank you.”

  “What happened?” I press.

  “It was the first big thing I attempted on Liam’s list. He wanted to jump off a waterfall, so I booked a guide to take me to La Fortuna. When I jumped, some guys started shooting at me.”

  “Who?” I want to rip apart anyone who tried to hurt her.

  I must have a dangerous look in my eyes, because she puts a hand on my arm and says, “I was fine. Well, mostly fine.” She touches a still-pink scar on her shoulder. “Jorge, the tour guide, took me back to his house. His wife, who worked at the local hospital, patched me up because they thought I was in some kind of trouble and didn’t want to alert the authorities. At first, Jorge had thought they were shooting at me, but when I assured him I hadn’t bought drugs and didn’t even know anyone there, he said I was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time, so I dismissed it. Because seriously, why would anyone shoot at me? But then this happened.” She waves vaguely at the boat. “And it made me wonder if there was some connection. But I don’t know what. What would I have that anyone wants?” She pauses for minute. “Unless it’s the money.”

  Now things are really getting interesting. I instinctively relax my muscles and slow my breathing, careful to keep my face impassive. God knows I’ve had plenty of practice in training my body to never betray my emotions. For the last few years, my life has depended on how well I hide my thoughts.

  “What money?” I wink. “Maybe I should have charged you after all.”

  “Stop doing that. It makes my stomach flip-flop.”

  “That’s not a problem in my book,” I say, trailing my fingers across the soft skin of her thigh.

  “Mmmmm.” She takes a deep breath and runs her fingers through her hair. “What were we talking about?”

  I like the effect I have on her.

  “Money.”

  “Right. I’m not rich by any means. My parents’ life insurance policy left me a little, but I sank most of it into starting the wedding business I own with Gemma and Charlotte.”

  “You own a wedding business?” Of course, I know everything about her business, but she doesn’t know that.

  “Yes. You say ‘I do,’ we do the rest.” I can’t help but smile at the clever tagline. “I design one-of-a-kind wedding dresses. Gemma’s a photographer, and Charlotte’s a wedding planner.”

  “So that’s why you’re always sketching? Have you always wanted to do that?” I find I’m oddly curious about what makes her tick.

  “I guess. My mom was very artistic, and when I was growing up, we’d spend hours drawing together. Eventually, she got so sick she couldn’t do much at all, but she liked it when I’d sit with her and draw. I think I started drawing wedding dresses to remind myself that somewhere, happily ever after still exists.”

  I want to take away her hurt and banish the sadness in her eyes, but she won’t find her happily ever after with a man like me. Instead, I ask, “So how did you afford to go to Costa Rica and Vegas and the Philippines?”

  “My brother left some money. A lot of it. I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t even know about it until I was given his personal effects, including access to all his accounts, since I was his beneficiary. I’ve been wondering where it came from, and how Liam got it.” She bites her lower lip, and I remind myself to focus. “I wonder if maybe Dr. Morris, the aid worker that Liam died saving, had anything to do with it. Maybe that’s what the guy on the boat was looking for. Maybe someone knows about the money and wants it?”

  I frown, making a mental note to follow up on this Dr. Morris. “If someone wanted the money, they’d be more likely to kidnap you than shoot you. Unless that’s what the man on the boat was ultimately going to do before I stopped him…” I trail off, seeing the validity of that. Maybe someone did
know about the money and saw her as a means to get it. But I haven’t managed to stay alive this long without having a sixth sense about things, and I’m betting someone else thinks that list is the key to finding Liam’s inventory. Does El Gato have someone else on the case? Is the DEA somehow involved? I intend to find out. Because it’s my job, yes, but also to protect her. There’s no way I can walk away from her after what happened between us last night, and how I feel about her, without making sure she’s going to be safe. Even though she’s the mark and I have no business caring what happens to her, I do. She arouses a very deep-seated desire to protect her, and although eventually I’m going to leave, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure she’s okay before I do.

  “Maybe it’s something to do with the list. Mind if I have a closer look at it?”

  Chapter Twelve

  McKenzie

  “Kinky sex?”

  If I weren’t completely mortified, I’d find Noah’s incredulous look funny. Instead, I feel my face turn bright red. I snatch the list back. “Um, yeah. That’s what I was going to ask for your help with.”

  He sits back, and a slow, wicked smile crosses his gorgeous face.

  “Then ask me.”

  I’m powerless to resist when he uses that commanding tone, but I lower my gaze, unable to look him in the eye as I put into words what I want from him. “Um, will you have kinky sex with me?”

  It’s official. I’m going to die of embarrassment.

  But his finger is under my chin, forcing my gaze to his. His brown eyes are dark and smoldering. “There is nothing I would enjoy more,” he says, his voice husky. Those gorgeous lips of his curve up in a sensuous smile. “Of course, you’ll have to agree to my terms.”

  I lick my lips nervously. “What terms?”

  He’s looking at me intently, and his eyes seem to see through me to my deepest, darkest desires. There’s nowhere to hide. I fight not to fidget under his gaze. “From now until you leave the Kairos for good, you’re mine.”

  My pulse gallops at the thought of belonging to Noah. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I own you. You’re mine to kiss and hold, take and fuck, control and possess. Whatever I want. Whenever I want it.”

  Oh God. Can I do this? I hope so, because now that I’ve had a taste of Noah, and a glimpse of the pleasure he has the power to give me, there’s no way I can not do this.

  “Yes.” It’s consent cloaked in a prayer.

  His predatory smile is dangerous, and I wonder briefly what I’ve gotten myself into. But there’s no doubt about it. I want this. Not because it’s on Liam’s bucket list, but because suddenly, it’s on mine. For the first time since I can remember, I feel like I’m truly living, and I’m suddenly ravenous to experience all life has to offer, even, or especially, the sensuous things. I’ve had a taste of Noah’s dark proclivities, and I want more.

  Doing the things on Liam’s list—things that scare me—has made me feel alive, and I wonder briefly if I’m becoming a thrill junkie. Maybe that’s why Noah’s so compelling. If danger had a name, it would be Noah Payne, and I want him and everything that being with him means. I want to push the boundaries with him, to see where he can take me, and just how close to the edge I can go.

  “So what happens now?” I nervously twist my fingers.

  He gets to his feet and holds out his hand, pulling me up and into his arms. He takes my mouth slowly and sensually, kissing me thoroughly before turning me around and smacking my ass. “Now we continue on our course to El Nido. You’re driving.”

  I look at him in bewilderment. Somehow, I thought agreeing to kinky sex would mean we’d actually have sex.

  As if reading my thoughts, his gaze drops to my lips. “I’m just as eager as you are, sweetheart, but we need space, privacy, and a few accessories for the things I want to do to you. We’ll sail to El Nido and get a hotel on the beach tonight. If you still want to explore the darkness with me, that is.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  He caresses my cheek with the back of his forefinger. “I’m not going to let you.” His voice is thick and raspy and sets off the flutter of a thousand butterflies in my stomach.

  It takes three hours to get to El Nido, and in that time, Noah teaches me how to sail, showing me how to tell which direction the wind’s blowing, how to steer straight, and how to trim the sails. He also subtly shows me what I can expect over the course of the rest of our trip. He touches me often, possessively laying his hand on my thigh or caressing my ass as he leans over to show me something, or occasionally trailing his fingers over my side, smiling when I wriggle away because it tickles.

  “I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight,” he says with a slow grin that does nothing to alleviate my nerves.

  With each touch and look, he builds my desire, and by the time we dock on Pangulasian Island, I’m wet with anticipation. The island is absolutely stunning, and so is the hotel on the beach where we’re staying. Our room is a spacious treetop canopy villa that’s built on stilts hidden in a grove of trees and facing the ocean. The ceiling is made of wood rafters, and windows on three sides give us an unobscured view of the Pacific. There’s not much furniture—just a king-size bed with a canopy, a night table, and a small sofa and a wingback chair tucked into a corner, but it’s roomy, and the balcony is amazing, with a chaise lounge and an unencumbered view of the ocean stretching out as far as the eye can see. Just below us on the beach, I can see two lounge chairs underneath an umbrella.

  “So many places to explore you,” Noah says with a faint smile, and my sex clenches at the thought of the night ahead.

  Excitement and anticipation have me on edge, and I’d be happy to stay in and explore this newfound dynamic between us right away, but Noah insists we fully enjoy everything the island offers, so we spend several hours snorkeling on the reef off the hotel’s private beach. He eventually decides we’re finished, thank God, and hand in hand, we walk back to the villa. There’s a subtle change between us. The awareness and sexual tension is still there—if anything, it’s even stronger—but there’s a new underlying sense of inevitability, of connection and rightness. Although we’ve been fighting it—or rather, Noah’s been fighting it—suddenly it feels like we belong together, if only for tonight.

  I guess it’s not surprising, given everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. I shiver at the memory of waking up to Noah quietly telling me someone was on the boat and handing me a gun. I’ve tried not to think about it too much, because if I did, I would totally freak out, but Noah’s unwavering calmness both during and after the situation has helped me stay centered. I feel utterly safe with him. Not just because I know Walker or one of the other SEALs sent him to protect me, but because of who he is. He’d been amazing—focused, intense, and completely in control. I sigh. Just like he is with me. Mind-blowing sex with Noah has probably been a game changer, too. And now this…agreement to give myself to him for the next five days.

  Once we’re inside the room, he says, “I’ve made dinner reservations. I’m going to run downstairs and see if I can get a few things I’ll need for later this evening while you shower. Did you bring a dress?”

  My heart is thundering in my chest, and my brain is having trouble keeping up. What kind of things could he be getting downstairs? “I…uh…yes.”

  “Good. Wear it.”

  I take a long, hot shower while he’s gone, reveling in the spaciousness of a full-size shower, the water pressure, and the luxurious rainwater shower head after the last few days of squeezing into the tiny bathroom on the boat, and before that, in the rundown but cheap hotel room I had rented in Coron. I take my time, preparing myself for him, making sure every inch of my skin and sex is soft and smooth. Just thinking about what’s to come makes my breasts feel heavy, and as my hands stroke the soap across my hypersensitive skin, I imagine it’s his hands on my body, taking what he wants. By the time I emerge from the bathroom weari
ng the dress and a hint of makeup, my hair still slightly damp, I feel flushed with arousal.

  He’s waiting for me, sitting in the lone chair with one ankle casually propped on the opposite knee, somehow managing to look both sensual and powerful, although he’s not doing anything. It reminds me of the first time I saw him, sitting just like this at the club in Vegas, watching me with that same predatory look in his eyes. As I step out of the bathroom, his gaze rakes over me, taking in the light, floaty sundress I added to my bag at the last minute, just in case.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he says, and in the reflection of his unequivocal appraisal, I feel like the most stunning woman in the world. “Come here.”

  I obey, wordlessly crossing the room to stand where he indicates between his legs.

  “Kneel for me.” The sensual rasp of his voice is unleashing butterflies in my stomach, and I slowly drop to my knees. I suddenly wish I’d done more research, so I’d know more about whatever the hell we’re doing, and how I’m supposed to act. On my knees before him, I don’t know whether I should look up at him or keep my gaze down. As it is, I’m eye to eye with his crotch, and I wonder if he expects me to give him a blow job. I find the thought oddly appealing, and the huge bulge in his pants is mesmerizing. I reach for the button of his pants but he stops me, his strong hand closing over mine.

  “Look at me, baby.”

  I raise my eyes to his and am stunned by the hunger I see reflected in them. Usually a rich, warm brown, they’re almost black, adding to the whole sexy-fallen-angel thing he has going on.

  “I’ve imagined how you’d look kneeling before me like this.” His voice is gruff with need.

  He’s thought about this?

  “The reality far exceeds my wildest fantasies. You look perfect.” He rubs his thumb sensually across my bottom lip and then slips it into my mouth. My lips automatically close around it, savoring the slightly rough texture as I suck lightly, my tongue tentatively flicking the pad of this thumb. He groans and pulls his thumb out of my mouth as he gets to his feet.