Accidental Shield: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  Ray, who can barely sit up, tightens his hold on my hand. “She doesn’t have anything to do with King Heron. I told you that, asshole. Leave her alone.”

  “Ah, but she does have something to do with Mr. Calum, doesn’t she?” Cornaro’s slick smile fades as he steps closer. “And you never told me.”

  “He didn’t know,” I say.

  Cornaro doesn’t look my way, still glaring at Ray. Then his hand arcs up, pressing the red-orange end of his cigar against my brother’s forehead.

  Ray doesn’t scream, but I do.

  I lunge, grabbing at his arm, pulling as hard as I can. “Stop it! Stop it, you freak!”

  He’s stronger than he looks, shoving me back in the cushions. Cornaro pulls the cigar away from Ray’s head with a low chuckle, and then sticks the cigar back in his mouth before leaning down to blow a thick smoke contrail in my face.

  I want to gag, I want to run, I want to...

  I desperately want to see someone put a cigar out on this man’s head.

  He’s the devil himself. The raw hatred inside me grows as I stare at him, never looking away. He’s a natural bully, and I won’t give him what he wants. I won’t let him intimidate me.

  He’s not even all that massive, not nearly as tall or broad as Flint. Or as handsome.

  Though I’m sure he thinks he is. He’s vain and arrogant. His trim frame and neatly pressed clothes say appearance means a lot to him. The black slacks and white shirt are expensive, too, and so are those ridiculous glittering chains around his neck.

  It’s like he’s a flashback to some bad eighties film.

  God. I never thought I’d die by a freaking trope.

  Letting out another disgusting laugh, Cornaro straightens, taking a few steps away from us.

  I turn to Ray. My stomach revolts at the red circle on his forehead. It’s already blistering.

  He’s so battered, so beaten, he’s hardly recognizable. I squeeze his hand.

  He shakes his head. There’s true sorrow in his eyes, the same message over and over bleeding out of him.

  I’m sorry, Val.

  “If you know what’s good for you, Ms. Gerard, you’ll be kind to this freak.” His eyes grow dark as he spits back what I called him. “If you want a chance to say goodbye to your boyfriend one last time.” With a dark chortle, he adds, “And your dear family.”

  Clamping my back teeth together, I will myself not to react. Not visibly.

  On the inside, I’m shaking, crying, falling to pieces.

  “Did your brother ever tell you what happened?” he asks. “Why he’s left me no choice but this nasty scorched earth approach?”

  I don’t move a muscle.

  “She doesn’t know anything,” Ray snarls. “Leave her the fuck alone. It’s me you want.”

  I swallow a sob, horrified at how Ray, weak and hurt, keeps trying to protect me.

  “Bah, I’ve had you for ages, you little worm,” Cornaro says. “Had you in my pocket for years. Just like Stanley. I paid him well to let me transport my cargo on his fleet, but after one missing ship blown to pieces by a competitor and that one little incident in Bali, he got wind that perhaps all of my dealings weren’t kosher. He thought he’d pull out of our partnership.”

  Partnership? He couldn’t be the man my father partnered with. That’s impossible.

  Cornaro’s glare falls on Ray again. “Dear old dad, however, wasn’t as stupid as his worming son. Stanley knew the art of compromise and knew how to talk to me, man to man.”

  I lean forward, trying to put myself between the mob boss and my brother.

  Ray can’t take much more punishment.

  “Your father knew the pecking order and who wired money to his Swiss bank account.” Cornaro stabs a thumb at his chest, leaving no doubt. “And he didn’t piss all over himself like an infant when a few ships were lost in my little high seas trade war with the boys from Hong Kong. I paid you every dime in damages on top of the insurance you cashed in, and you still cried like a little baby, Rayman. You wouldn’t shut up about your boys and girls lost on those ships, saying they deserved better.”

  Ray doesn’t flinch, even as Cornaro snarls, leering down.

  “You were never in charge,” Ray says. “Never.”

  “Really, now? Is that why I sacrificed a dozen men from my crew protecting your run-down offices? Do you even realize how fast the Black Dragons would’ve garroted your throat and watched you bleed out in your own office with impunity if I hadn’t stepped in to save your ingrate skin?” His lip peels back. “And you still had the nerve to run your mouth, going on and on about those stupid fucking ships.”

  “I wanted out, shithead,” Ray growls. “Just wanted to walk away.”

  “Of course. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Cornaro says. “Stanley was making noise about getting out again, too, before his end.”

  “I wish he’d done it. Turned you in. You’d have seen who was in control then, Captain Hook.” Ray glares, but it’s too much.

  He starts coughing into his hand, and when he sinks back, there’s a smear of blood in his palm.

  “Are you quite done? How do you think your father died, little man?” Cornaro turns his back, blowing a long trail of smoke to the floor.

  My chest nearly convulses.

  A painful memory strikes.

  “A heart attack.” I pinch my lips together, wishing I hadn’t said that out loud.

  Cornaro laughs. “Very good, Ms. Gerard. A massive coronary, at his desk, in his posh office at King Heron Fishing. Roughly thirty seconds after he’d had a nip off the bottle of scotch I’d personally delivered to him, and a letter thanking him for his service, offering him a way out. He took it.”

  “Liar!” I snap. “If he’d been poisoned...the autopsy would’ve shown it.”

  He walks over leisurely, then grinds out his cigar in the ashtray on the glass table in front of the sofa. “Hardly, my sweet summer child. Coroners are like anybody else. A little grease for the wheels, and they’ll say anything.”

  I have a sick sense he’s telling the truth. It’s hard holding back the tears.

  “It’s tragic, really. This all would’ve been so easy if worm boy hadn’t thought he was smarter than a man whose pedigree goes back to Malta and Lepanto.” He pauses, turns, his eyes these thin, snake-like slits. “And more recently, as some might say, pirates. My ancestors filled their coffers with doubloons, jewels, and exotic riches by the pound, sourced from every continent.”

  He’s sick. Delusions of grandeur on steroids. Just being in this psycho’s presence makes my skin crawl.

  “Rayman should understand better than anyone. I’m merely following in their footsteps. I offered your family friendship and fortune until you decided to screw it up. Incredibly foolish, especially when you know my policy on traitors.”

  He kicks the table, making the ashtray bounce across the glass, and then shouts at one of the men standing near the door. “Any word yet, Hale?”

  “No, sir. But she should be finishing her dinner shortly. She’s taking her sweet time with a glass of port, apparently,” the goon in the corner says.

  Her? My heart starts jackhammering again.

  Cornaro settles his gaze on me, his lip curled. “We’re just waiting for one more to join us all the way from Kauai. Even sent my own chopper to pick her up.”

  “Mother?” I can’t stop the shiver that takes me over. “Why?”

  “Why don’t you tell her, Rayman?” Cornaro eyes my brother slowly, folding his arms. When he doesn’t speak, he sighs. “Fine, then. Since your lips are sealed, it’s only fair Ms. Gerard should know...traitors like your idiot brother aren’t just killed. They’re lessons. In over thirty years of this game, I’ve only had two people stupid enough to double cross me. One was the man married to the woman your boyfriend couldn’t save. The other, well, he’s sitting right next to you, and this time, I will kill his entire family.”

  I’m numb.

  Disemb
odied.

  Too shocked to even scream at how coldly he rattles off our fate like some kind of demented judge.

  “However, first, we’re going to have a little heart-to-heart talk with your oh-so-understanding beau.” He actually smiles. I’m not even surprised half his teeth are gold.

  “No! Leave him alone, he’s not even family. I...I dragged him into this.”

  He walks toward me. “I told you, wench, he screwed up a very important act of discipline in Bali. If Mr. Calum hadn’t come crashing in with his merry men that day, maybe Rayman wouldn’t have decided to play at a man’s game of subterfuge. I spent years hoping he’d died, or at least wound up paralyzed. He should have, after his little moment with the drill, but...I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Oh, God. I’m almost panting, my breath rising and falling in shallow ripples.

  “I never felt so lucky the day I learned none other than Flint Calum saved you from the sharks. Now, I not only get King Heron, I get to settle old scores.” He stops in front of me and extends a hand. “And perhaps I get you. You’re delightful enough to make me want to re-think my policy on total extermination for turncoats’ families.”

  His hand almost touches my hair before I flinch.

  I can’t!

  Without thinking, I whirl, grab his hand, and sink my teeth into the fleshy side of it.

  He snaps his hand away and roars, rubbing the area I bit.

  I hadn’t broken the skin, but the taste of his flesh is on my tongue, and I spit at him.

  Snarling, he backhands my face. Pain ignites the side of my face and wraps around my head, this halo of thorns.

  My cheek stings, but I don’t scream.

  I don’t even move.

  He might have muscle and intimidation, but I have grit. Hard, angry determination, something I learned from one man. I won’t give him fear, knowing that’s what he thrives on.

  “Leave her alone!” Ray shouts.

  “Such brotherly love,” Cornaro says bitterly, stepping back.

  Then he pulls a gun, a freaking gold gun, out of his waistband. It just keeps getting better.

  “I think it’s time I put you out of your misery before we even wait for dear old mom. It’s a privilege to die by this weapon. There’s only a small handful of them in the world, you know. One belonged to Leland Durham, the once illustrious CEO of Galentron. Lord knows they’ve been in the news lately, but I digress...”

  I leap to my feet, jumping in front of Ray. “No! No. You’ve already hurt him enough. What is it you want? King Heron? Fine, it’s yours. We’ll erase any data on you.”

  He laughs. “You’re that naive, girl?”

  “Val, don’t do it!” Ray shouts, pulling at my arm. “You don’t know...”

  “Know what?”

  “Our little worm boy has been gathering secrets. He was going to take them to the Feds wrapped up in a nice shiny bow. However, his sloppy attempt to assassinate me by blowing up his own boat failed. I never even went to the meeting he set up.” He goes deathly still. “No one tries to kill a king, Ms. Gerard. Not even a crown heron.”

  Crap. The bombs in the crates. There must’ve been more of them than the lone explosive they’d thrown after me.

  “You were there,” Cornaro says, drilling those dark eyes into me. “He threw you into the skiff, then one of my men chucked a bomb in after you. I was furious when I found out you’d gotten away. But low and behold, Calum rescued you, making this twist of fate worth the stress.”

  I still don’t understand that part.

  He turns to his man at the door again.

  The goon shakes his head. “Sir, the landing party isn’t answering from Waimanalo.”

  “Give them more time,” Cornaro growls, then turns back to me. “I knew Rayman here, with a little encouragement...” He nods toward Ray, hinting at the beating. “Would tell Flint everything. So I had men in place, waiting at the King Heron office.”

  My heart hits my throat so hard and fast my airway tightens.

  I can’t breathe.

  “He’ll be here soon,” he says. “Then we’ll set sail for an hour or two and wait for the chopper to drop off your mother.”

  I shake my head. “Your men won’t survive against Flint. He’s not alone. His Damysus team is with him.”

  I swear fear flashes in Cornaro’s eyes. “Nonsense! They disbanded after our ruckus in Bali years ago. Couldn’t stand taking on more work.”

  I look up slowly.

  This could be our bargaining tool. I have to fan that hint of fiery dread.

  “Wrong, Joel. They went underground. They only do specific, private cases now, except when someone crosses them...and I’d say you’ve done a mighty fine job snatching me and trying to trap Flint. Just wait until he catches up to you.” I give him my ugliest smile.

  For a second, Cornaro snorts, but his smarmy expression breaks down into a tortured frown. He looks over at the man in the corner. “Hale? Any word from Raven Team?”

  The man hesitates. “No, sir. Not yet. We’re—”

  “Incompetence!” He explodes, kicking at the table so hard the glass cracks, then shatters apart. “To hell with this. Take us out to sea right now! We’ll feed these two and their mother to the sharks and come back for Calum and his minions later.”

  Hale scrambles across the room to the bar, pulling out a bottle. Cornaro rakes both hands through his coal black hair.

  “Never mind the drink!” Glaring at me, nostrils flared, he growls, “I’ll get it myself. That’s the only way anything ever gets done properly.”

  At the door, he whips around, jabbing a finger at me. “If you’re lying to me, Ms. Gerard, you’ll pay dearly. You’ll suffer abominably before shuffling off your mortal coil.”

  I have half a mind to shrug and tell him he’s already planning on feeding me to the sharks, but I see the stupidity in that. He’s incensed, showing all the signs of a violent rage waiting to be tripped.

  I can’t buy time if he strangles us with his bare hands.

  Cornaro storms out of the room.

  I try to take in a deep breath, but I can’t. The boat rumbles faintly, the engines engaging.

  Ugh. What have I done?

  I’m going to get us all killed. Worse yet, I may have already gotten Flint killed. Leaving Bryce without a father. Without anyone but Beverly.

  Poor Beverly.

  I just killed her son.

  And my mother’s son.

  And myself.

  I’m so flipping stupid!

  I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to think. Just think.

  “It’s going to be okay, Val,” Ray says. “I’ll...I’ll think of something.”

  I want to lash out at him, tell him it’s too late for that, but I hold it in.

  It’s a miracle he’s even alive right now. I squeeze his hand, holding back the tears.

  “I’m sorry, sis. Not just for putting you through this King Heron shit. I’m sorry as hell for...for everything. I didn’t treat you right.”

  I’m almost hyperventilating when I meet my brother’s eyes.

  His sincerity nearly breaks me on the spot.

  I can’t see the monster who stole my conch shell or the vicious boy who always selfishly put himself above everyone else. Not now.

  There’s just this battered man, desperate to make amends before the bitter end.

  I squeeze his hand harder, nodding as the tears fall.

  If we survive, I’ll need more than a heartfelt apology to get over the pain he’s inflicted. But for now, if this is all we get?

  “It’s okay, Ray. I know...I know you tried.” My voice cracks, my mind drifting to someone else who’s out there, trying to save our lives.

  God, this can’t be happening.

  If Flint survives and I don’t, by some miracle, he’ll wind up blaming himself. Just like that woman in Bali. I can’t let that happen.

  I release Ray’s hand and squeeze my own together. My finger skims the r
ing. The gorgeous black pearl is still there. My mind goes to silly pirate movies.

  The films where there’s no higher ideal than freedom, and captains love their ships like family. Those ships set them free. So does their treasure, gold and jewels and exquisite pearls just like this one.

  Bringing the ring closer, I stare at it harder.

  That’s what Flint did for me. Gave me freedom when I didn’t know who I was. He gave me hope, wisdom, and so much love.

  My throat burns. I can’t hold it in anymore.

  Love.

  I do love him. No question. More than I ever imagined possible.

  I love Bryce, too.

  And I want to keep loving them forever.

  The ring goes blurry through my tears, but I can still see how it sparkles and shines.

  The black pearl. Freedom. So pure and wild no one can ever take it away.

  That’s what I need to become.

  Free.

  I swipe away the tears and grab Ray’s hand, whispering so the goon standing by the door can’t hear. “You have to get up. We need to hide.”

  Ray shakes his head. “There’s nowhere to hide on this ship.” He nods at the door. “He has men watching our every move.”

  Crud, he’s right. Free doesn’t mean hiding and cowering, anyway.

  It means listening to your inner muse when it whispers, improvise.

  Scanning the room, I look for something, anything. A reflection on the floor catches my eye.

  The broken table.

  Its top is shattered into several good-sized glassy pieces sitting in a pile of tiny beads. I stretch my foot under the table and slowly drag a few of the bigger chunks closer to the sofa, then plant my feet over the top of them.

  They’ll do just fine.

  20

  Tough Stuff (Flint)

  The huge, imposing yacht barely has any lights.

  Neither do we, but I know it’s him.

  Joel Cornaro.

  I can feel the oily dread in the air, the same sticky weight that was there in Bali. I lift the night vision binoculars to my face and adjust the focus. Cash follows my lead.