Jake kept up a running commentary for Enlil, even though he couldn’t be sure the god rode with him in the car. “I’m going to call the DA now, and find out Sal’s status.”
Jake put in the call, and Enlil could tell by the tightening of the agent’s face that the news wasn’t good. His fears were confirmed when Jake’s hand dropped the phone to the seat beside him.
“Sal got off his monitor early this morning. Someone high up in the DA’s office pulled a lot of strings to get him released for a shitload of bail money. Fuckers saw green because Demetria is a flight risk, and took the deal. He could be with Candy right now.”
Jake called each of his agents and relayed the bad news. If Enlil’s ears weren’t mistaken, he got met with a whole lot of silence. A sign of how badly this sucked.
Enlil’s blood ran cold. This was his woman they were talking about, not some chick on a cop show who got popped as a plot device. This prick had his female. His Candy. Horns jutted from Enlil’s scalp, and the wind rose on the streets.
By the time Jake got them to headquarters, JP already sat at the command center and fixed on Candy’s coordinates. “As you figured, boss.” JP plunged a finger toward the screen. “They have her off the coast. Must be another ship Sal owns.”
Jake looked at the clock and Enlil’s eyes followed—fifteen ‘til eight.
“Go, Enlil.”
The wind god noted the coordinates and almost didn’t hear the next words. “We’ve got a cutter down at the pier. We’ll be on it in fifteen and headed out to meet you,” Jake informed him. And Enlil was gone.
****
Five minutes. Five long minutes before Enlil spotted the ship. A beat-up tub, black and white, and rust all over, but he could see it remained in service and that a chopper had recently landed. The crew still worked to lash the bird down. The king drug lord had to be onboard. Candy fucking needed his help. Right now.
One hundred yards from the ship, Enlil regained his body and splashed down. Fucking hell.
****
Sal had arrived just after seven o’clock. She’d heard the chopper and got hauled up on deck―apparently along with the entire crew―to meet him.
Despite the couple of dozen men present, when Sal emerged from the chopper, he had eyes only for her. He walked slowly across the landing pad to where she stood held in the iron grasp of Stave.
“The boys had some fun with your face I see.” Sal looked over her bruises and black eye, then gave Candy a sinister smile. “But don’t worry. I’m going to do my best to make sure your ass and your sweet little cunt get equal attention.”
Candy kept her mouth shut, knowing she would only make it worse if she spoke her mind.
“You made a fool out of me, Candy Lane.” He said her name with a disappointed inflection. “All my men,” he waved a hand at the crew members who stood quietly around him, “looked on while I acted like a fucking pussy where you were concerned. They talked about me behind my back. Did you know that? They knew how good I was to you, but also knew that I never got anything in return. Because every night you walked back to your own room.” He paused, looking at her with a fucked-up kind of sincerity.
“I took that.” He shrugged at her, and then at his men. “I took it because I figured if I gave you enough time, you’d come around.” He waited to see if she had anything to say. When she remained silent, he continued. “While I waited, you gathered your information. I kissed your ass, and you played me. You know how much it hurt when I found out you were a fucking fed.” He spit out the F’s in the last two words. “You not only humiliated me, but you had me arrested. You ruined a lot of good things for me, Candy.” He paused to let her get a good long look at the malice that flamed in his eyes. “And now I’m going to ruin you.”
He shot out a hand without warning and backhanded her across the face. It sent her rocking on her heels. If it weren’t for Stave’s strong grip, she would have fallen to the deck. And fucking douchebag, he’d hit her on the same side as her previous injuries. Fuck. It hurt.
Still, she didn’t give him what he wanted, which was begging or excuses. Candy never made a sound. She just straightened up with her face throbbing and looked right back at him.
“Still nothing to say?” He grunted. “Then let’s start with a little humiliation for you, Candy.” Sal stepped back and massaged the hand that had hit her.
“You made one hell of a stripper when you first caught my eye. Let’s see if you can raise some interest now. Take off your frigging clothes.”
She looked pointedly down at the front of his pants, where currently nothing made a show. Aww, poor baby, pouted Candy inwardly. Apparently hitting her hadn’t gotten him hard, so now she had to visually stimulate him. Fine.
Candy wrenched her arm away from Stave, who had loosened his grip. Sal wanted a show? She’d give him one.
Taking off her clothes in broad daylight on the deck of a ship was a lot different than subdued club lighting and a G-string. But the longer she could keep from being alone with Sal, the longer she stayed intact. The trick would be to keep her boots on. Thank God for wide-legged jeans.
Candy commenced strutting. She bumped and ground. She made her way through the ranks of the crew, rubbing her tits and ass everywhere and on everyone. When she approached Sal, it took all the bravado she could muster, but she bent forward and took his hand, licking the inside of his palm provocatively, before lowering it onto her still covered breast.
She was almost prepared for the uncomfortable squeeze, and kept the seductive half-smile glued to her face as he ferreted out her nipple and gave it an unpleasant, vice-like pinch through her shirt. The man was determined to be hostile, but it was his game. She just had to make sure he kept playing it in public.
Keeping his one hand pinned to her breast, she captured his other and put it on the button of her jeans. She ground her hips in his direction, indicating he should open things up. He laughed in her face.
“It almost seems like you have a plan, Candy. But remember, whore. I’m in charge now.” He tugged the button free of its mooring and yanked her zipper down. She figured he’d plunge his hand down her pants, but he surprised her by shoving her away. “Continue for my crew. I want you naked before I go any further.”
Candy slithered her pants down her legs, relieved they slipped easily over her skin-tight leather boots. She swayed in the cold morning air. Sure, the goose bumps on her skin were unappealing, but the company would certainly enjoy what the chill did to her nipples.
Once free of her jeans, she turned her back to the crowd, and giving a provocative look over her shoulder, she bent at the waist and gave them a good look at her silk-clad ass. Red for Christmas. The panties had been a joke meant for Enlil in case he came back. He hadn’t, and now a whistling group of drug runners got the eyeball feast. She spread her booted feet even farther, and slapped a hand on one cheek before standing slowly. She turned back to face the music.
It was the first time in her life Candy had ever wished for a button-down shirt. At least undoing buttons would have wasted more time. She did the best she could with her long-sleeved T-shirt, pulling it up on one side almost to nipple height, then dropping it down to repeat with the other side.
She glanced covertly under her lashes and noticed Sal shift impatiently. Time to move things along. Wiggling her shirt side to side, she raised it up and over her head. She flung it to one hapless sailor and spitefully hoped her deodorant had worn off overnight.
As Candy played with the cups of her bra, the wind picked up. It was only noticeable to her at first, because of her scantily clad body. But soon her hair whipped into a frenzy around her head. Men widened their stances to remain stationary. Where had this come from? Oh my gods. Dare she hope?
Stave turned his gaze up to the sky, then off to the horizon. He clearly didn’t see anything. No morning squalls. Nothing for anyone to worry about. The sky shone as clear blue as a Caribbean morning. Candy bit back a smile. Yup. Her man had arrived.
/>
The huge ship started to rock, and Sal sped things up.
“Take it all off now, Candy, and make it quick. The guys want to get a good look at your snatch before they go back to work.”
Candy cursed him under her breath and quickly unclasped her bra, letting it fall. The cold air gusted over her puckered nipples. Her breasts, firm and high, stood at attention while she hooked her thumbs into the red elastic band that hugged her muscular hips.
Do or die, she took in a deep breath and skimmed them down to her ankles before kicking them away. The wind carried them up and over the ship’s railing. Bye, bye, panties. Candy stood proud and defiant in her high leather boots, hands planted inflexibly on her waist. The motion of the deck was now almost too much for her.
“What now, Sal?” She raised her voice over the increasing gale. The boss man braced himself against a large exhaust stack.
“Come over to me,” he demanded, his voice raised to be heard. “I have one other thing to show my men before they get in out of the weather.” Candy approached cautiously because, A: she didn’t trust him; and B: the ship had begun to pitch like crazy. When she moved close enough, he grabbed her with one hand, yanking her in, and positioning her back hard against his chest. His left arm snaked across her middle.
And the bastard. His right hand found its way into the curls at the juncture of her sex. Fuck him. She held her legs tightly closed.
“Open up, Candy. This will only hurt for a minute.” He laughed in her ear, then made his voice loud so that everyone could hear.
“I’m going to show you men how to deflower a virgin.” He sneered and laughed, then kicked at her boots. Sal wedged his knee between her thighs and held them apart. His finger tried to plunge into her, but she knew what he found. A fucking desert. During her little strip, Candy hadn’t conjured so much as a droplet of interested moisture.
Sal tried muscling his way in, but there was no way he could force into her tight, dry pussy.
Candy struggled in earnest, crying and cursing him, writhing at the pain he caused. Sal took his finger away, but as she gasped in relief, he brought it up and attempted to thrust it into her mouth.
Oh, hell no. She tried to close down and bite him, but he squeezed her already abused jaw with his remaining fingers and got one digit in and out before she could sink her teeth into his flesh.
Sal’s hand groped back to her pussy, and this time, wet, he stroked eagerly through her folds. All eyes were on his poised finger. Candy groaned and braced for the intrusion to come.
“Stop.” The word, sharper than any gun shot and louder than the roaring wind, rent across the tempest, and momentarily stilled Sal’s hand. “Move and I will kill you.”
Every man’s eyes turned to the side of the ship, where an enormous, dripping wet beast clung to the metal rails.
Fuck. Candy had never been as happy to see anyone in her life.
Horns protruded from Enlil’s head, and huge incisors lengthened from within his mouth to jut out over thick lips. His glorious chest, heavy with hair and hide, expanded with unleashed power.
Stabbing golden eyes pierced the man who held Candy, his eyes darting from her tear-stained face to the finger that poised to breach her virginity. The command howled from his mouth. “Move one centimeter and I will rip off your offending limb and toss it to the sharks.”
No doubt the Enlil beast meant every word of what he said, and Candy hoped Sal believed him.
Enlil drew his legs stealthily over the rail and she saw he clutched her scrap of red panties that had been taken on the wind.
Candy gazed up at her glorious god. Sobs of relief wracked her entire body. “Fucking hell, Enlil, could you have cut things any closer?”
She was sure that everyone witnessed her beast’s chilling smile.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jake cursed the typhoon that sprang up out of nowhere. There had been nothing on the weather channel predicting this. The one-hundred-and-ten foot cutter they were on, which had just weighed anchor, was capable of taking on these seas, but it would be slow going. It would take nearly an hour until they were able to get to Candy and Enlil.
Thank fuck, the god wasn’t slowed down by weather. The agent smacked his head and let out a huge “duh,” Weather. Enlil the wind god had to be responsible for this. Well, hell. When in doubt, pull in the deities.
He yanked his phone out of his jeans and hit Marduk’s number. He didn’t have to wait for a second ring, but got no voice as the connection clicked in. Duh. Mid-flight, Marduk would be invisible.
Jake filled him in, anyway. “We’ve got weather, Marduk. Lots of wind.” He figured the Enlil/wind god connection would instantly register.
Jake continued, “It could be more than an hour until we get to Candy. Enlil traveled on ahead. I don’t know how many he’ll be facing or if he can handle things by himself.” Jake quickly gave Marduk the coordinates, and received a quick clap of thunder which he took as assurance that the entire contingent of gods would head that way. They should be half way to California by now. Which meant it would be fifteen minutes before they arrived on board ship, but it was better than the agent’s ETA.
Jake hoped the tub they had Candy on could withstand the storm. He looked out at the violent seas again. Hell. He hoped that Enlil could control himself. For his own and for Candy’s sake. Hadn’t the god, while winging his way westward, suffered the worst case of motion sickness that Jake had ever seen? If the boat pitched as much as the plane…
****
Enlil’s bare feet hit the deck, and the pitch and yaw of the ship transferred its way from his legs up into his head with amazing rapidity. Shit. Some serious motion occurred. Maybe it was time to calm the wind thing down.
That was the last coherent thing Enlil thought before bending over to puke up the coffee and orange slices he’d downed earlier that morning. Fuck it. Strength and power seeped from his body with every retch.
He observed with a tormented eye as the one who’d held Candy tossed her into another’s nearby arms, then weaved his way over toward Enlil.
“This…this…thing,” the asshole spit the words out. “He’s your boyfriend?”
They had clearly kept abreast of Candy’s activities. He looked sneeringly down at Enlil’s bovine face.
“What the fuck is he?” Sal scoffed, but had the good sense to stop five feet away from the doubled over anomaly. “You four.” The boss pointed to the crew nearest Enlil. “Subdue him. I have an idea that might make for some fun.”
Enlil’s response was pitiful. It didn’t take much for the quartet of men to surround him and raise him up; one on each arm with two positioned behind him, guns aimed at his temples. And he hung, totally useless. Overwhelmed by seasickness, he couldn’t put up a fight.
“Shit, Enlil,” Candy screamed across the deck. “Shake it off. Breathe goddammit. Stave, let me go.”
He saw her kick her captor’s shins ineffectually, while she yelled. He managed to ramp the wind down a little, but the ship still rocked, and Enlil didn’t feel any better. He could only listen while Sal barked his orders.
“Take him over there and tie him up, boys.” Sal pointed to a lifeboat stanchion that had some hanging ropes, and within minutes, he’d been lashed securely by his arms and legs.
“You can let her go now, Stave.” Sal chortled. “She’ll need to say goodbye to her freak show reject. I don’t want her telling me later that I acted unfairly, and didn’t give her a few minutes alone with her…whatever he is for a final farewell.” Sal laughed, then stood back and made a sweeping gesture to Candy.
She whipped out of Stave’s hold and ran to her god. His eyes were glazed, but having emptied his stomach, no longer looked incoherent.
“Are you okay, baby?” he asked Candy weakly, as she flung her naked body at him.
“I’m good. I’m okay,” she told him quickly, then whispered in his ear. “I’ve got this covered. I’ve got a knife.” She looked back at Sal, who had extracted
a gun from his jacket. He very deliberately checked the clip. “I think he plans on shooting you.”
“Don’t worry. Regular bullets can’t kill me.” Enlil grunted. “Also. Ace in my right front pocket,” he told her, but before she could go for it, Sal barked at her from too close for comfort.
“A touching reunion, but I’m cutting it short.” Sal moved in and pushed Candy back to stroke his gun over the bull’s face, caressing from his elongated horns to his fanged mouth. “Your girlfriend has a date to suck my cock. Did you know that?” he taunted. “And after that, I’m going to stuff it into her cunt; a place where you’ve never been, and never will be, because you’re going to be fucking dead.” Sal laughed at his own witticism, then backed up fifteen feet and stood, balancing with his gun aimed. He spoke to Candy. “Since I’m a good egg, you can kiss him goodbye before I start target practice.”
Candy moved quickly back to Enlil’s side, and slipped her hand into his pocket. She found a cold, linked chain, then pulled her hand out, empty to not cause suspicion.
“What is it?” she asked against Enlil’s sternum, making a show of stroking his chest before she edged up on tiptoe to kiss him. Yuck. His vomit mouth smelled pretty gross.
“Magic collar.” Enlil murmured rapidly. “Put it on me and order me not to be seasick.”
Candy had an idea. “Sal?” she called back to the man with the gun, a pout in her voice. “I can’t kiss him, he smells like puke. He says he’s got mints in his pocket. Do you mind if I pop one into his mouth before I kiss him goodbye?”
Sal shook his head, looking one part incredulous, one part proud. “Fucking hell, Candy. You’re a cold bitch. Yeah. Sure. Give him a mint, then I’ll finish him off.”
Sal’s safety flicked off, his gun up and ready. He clearly dared her to try something.
Candy delved into Enlil’s pocket again, but this time positioned her body to cover the extraction of the collar. She reached up as if to pop something in his mouth, but snapped the collar in place instead.
Blown Away Page 25