Merlicious 2

by Diane Merlin, Alexis Ke, Cara North

  Isabo leaned her head back against the wall as she gasped for air. She kept her eyes closed, desperately trying to figure out what to say to a man you'd known ten minutes and fucked like you'd been lovers forever. Hell, he probably thought she was the one who was a porn star.

  Staal's thoughts weren't so very different, but for an entirely different reason. Among his people, brief but explosive sexual encounters weren't uncommon. But what had happened here was. Not only had he completely lost control, he'd forgotten to exercise birth control. Without the mental suppression of viable sperm, this woman—this child abductor—was almost certainly pregnant with his child. Their progeny would be a shape-shifter who would need to spend the first part of its life entirely in the water. The Merpeople were extremely fecund. Keeping his face tucked in the juncture of her neck and shoulder, Staal agonized about how to handle the situation.

  A piercing scream brought both their heads up. “What the hell...” Isabo began.

  "Lorali,” Staal said at the same time, dropping Isabo's legs ignominiously and sprinting toward the bathroom.

  Huffing something about ungrateful studs, Isabo was right behind him.

  As fast as they were, they were too slow to stop the man who was climbing through the broken bathroom window. Lorali was splashing in the tub, screeching in the high-pitched tones of a dolphin, her face a mask of terror.

  Glass scrunching beneath his feet, Staal dove at the intruder, clipping him at the waist and driving him into the side of the old iron tub. The thwack of flesh meeting metal was followed by flesh on flesh as Staal pummeled the man. Blood was everywhere as the trespasser's nose broke, adding to the trails of blood from Staal's lacerated feet.

  Isabo skirted the majority of shards, easing her way to the terrified child. Once she had Lorali in her arms, she backed out the door, crooning soothing words, stroking back long blond hair.

  In a matter of moments, Staal joined them, hobbling against the pain in his feet.

  "Oh, my God,” Isabo blurted, “who was that guy? Did he follow you here?"

  Frowning at her, Staal reached out to take the child, who wrapped her arms about his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. “I was about to ask you the same question."

  Watching the two together, Isabo had no doubt Staal had told the truth. But if he had—if he was indeed Lorali's uncle—what did that make him? Had she just fucked a fish? Suddenly awkward with her nakedness, she backed into her bedroom where she quickly donned a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. By the time she reentered the hallway, Staal and Lorali were nowhere to be seen. Cursing, Isabo followed the blood trail out toward the boat dock.

  Chapter Three

  Staal grimaced with each step as sand ground into the cuts on his feet, but he didn't slow down. He had to get Lorali back to their people. She was too vulnerable here in the human world. Isabo had been bad enough, but whoever the bastard was that broke into the bathroom was another thing altogether. He was obviously not after Lorali's best interest. He hoped he'd killed the bastard, but he hadn't had time to check.

  "Uncle,” Lorali said, “I'm sorry I left the safe zone.” The clicks and chirps of their native language drifted across the dunes.

  "Shhh, little one. We don't want to attract another bad man.” He hated to frighten her, but he had no way of knowing how many unscrupulous bastards might be out there, watching. Hoping for a chance to bag a real live mermaid.

  Just as they reached the shoreline, he heard the slam of a door. He hoped it was Isabo. He didn't have time for another fight. He needed to get back to the arms of the sea and find safety for his precious charge.

  "Staal, wait.” Isabo's voice drifted to them, “You're hurt. At least let me see to your wounds first."

  He didn't slow down. He couldn't. Too much was at stake. The slap crunch, slap crunch of her feet as she ran through the sand grew closer. Staal eased into the water, hissing as the salt stung his cuts. Damn, they were bleeding worse than he'd thought.

  Realizing they were heading not for the dock but for the water, Isabo picked up speed. She couldn't swim well enough to keep up, but she could track them with the boat, assuming they didn't go too deep to see. Momentarily nonplused, she realized there were two boats tied up to her dock. Whoever that slimy bastard was back in her bathroom, had followed her. But he wouldn't be following her again any time soon. Veering toward his boat, she hopped aboard and located his radio, unscrewing the microphone wire then pulling it free and tossing it into the water. As a final touch, she opened the engine cover, yanked the spark plug wires and tossed them in the water, too. Smiling a wicked little smile, she jumped aboard the Whaler and cranked it up.

  Going on a hunch, Isabo headed out toward the wreckage of the Wetdream. Staal and Lorali had disappeared beneath the water, but she reasoned that as young as the child was, she couldn't have been too far from home when she got trapped. She had no intention of handing anyone over to the overzealous scientific community, but she wanted answers. Damn it, she deserved answers. And another go at the uncle. She clenched her thighs together against the rush of desire his memory produced.

  She searched the area all night. As dawn streaked the sky, she slumped down into the seat, defeated. She'd had the most incredible creature ever spawned by the sea and let it slip through her hands. Not to mention the finest sex of her life. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  But she could do something about Joe Calvo and his thieving ways. Heading back toward shore, she planned the revenge she would have on her professional rival and his scum-sucking minions.

  The bathroom was a disaster area, the kitchen door was hanging by one hinge and her laptop was missing. Son of a bitch. And she dared not call the authorities. If Joe's beat-up little buddy started yelping about mermaids and sabotaged boats, it would call too much attention to her. She didn't want that right now. She wanted to provide Eileen Ryan with the proof she needed. Then she would take the rest of her vacation time exploring the area, looking for the mermaid. She denied, even to herself, that what she really wanted was to find Staal again. Her body burned for him. She couldn't drive him out of her mind. She wasn't even sure she wanted to. She'd never felt such a strong attraction in her life.

  For the next several days, Isabo barely thought about Staal. She kept busy securing the required verification for Eileen to take to the insurance company, cleaning up the mess left behind by the intruders, and finding a handyman who would travel far enough to repair the damaged door.

  When all was said and done, she had three weeks left of her vacation and nothing to do. Nothing but stroll up and down the coastline etching a permanent crease between her eyes, staring out to sea. Looking for a merman. A merman. She had completely lost her mind. Still she walked every day. And she squinted at the water, hoping for a glimpse of the man who had disappeared there. All to no avail.

  "If you hadn't been so stupid, you wouldn't be staring out to sea. You'd be in a lab studying the fish-kid."

  "What the f—” Isabo jumped in alarm, spinning to see who had crept up on her.

  Her personal nemesis stood there, flanked by two of his flunkies, one of whom still looked the worse for wear. “Joe. I might have known. What rock did you crawl out from under?” Dismissively she turned back toward the ocean.

  "Oh, I've been around all along. I knew that bogus line about searching for a lost friend was just a cover for something bigger, and boy was I ever right. A freaking mermaid. When did you first discover the breed actually existed?"

  Isabo turned back, her face masked by a blank expression. “I have no idea what you're talking about. I did take leave to search for a lost friend's boat, which I found and reported to the proper authorities so his widow and kid could claim the insurance they had coming to them."

  Joe stepped closer. Her flesh crawled at his nearness. “You disappoint me, Isa. I thought you'd be chomping at the bit to report this. It'd make your reputation as a marine biologist.” He leaned down, his foul breath brushing the side of her face
. “A find like this could be the ticket to fame for both of us.” Running a hand up her arm, he let it rest on her shoulder as he pulled her back up against his chest. “Come on. Be reasonable for once. Don't make me hurt you."

  Isabo jumped away from the offending man, spinning to face him. “I think you've lost your mind. Mermaids are imaginary creatures from children's stories. They don't exist.” She rubbed her arm and shoulder, as if to remove the taint of his touch. “And I wouldn't share so much as a cup of coffee with you, you slimy thieving bastard. I want my laptop back."

  Something flashed in Joe's eyes. Something she'd never seen before. Something evil and frightening. And excited. “Sorry you feel that way. But business is business. If you won't cooperate, I'll just have to use other tactics. Boys..."

  Without her realizing it, Joe's friends had worked their way around to stand behind her. Now they each grabbed an arm, forcing her forward till her breasts grazed the front of Joe's ridiculous surfer t-shirt. The man had never been within fifty yards of a surfboard. She'd bet money on it.

  "Too bad for you, but fun for me and the guys. We just love questioning reluctant sources. You get all kinds of unexpected information if you apply the right techniques.” Joe grasped her left nipple and pinched it viciously, twisting it and pulling hard enough to cause her to cry out. “Oh, you're very sensitive. This could be fun."

  Isabo hated the tears that streamed down her face. She hated showing weakness to Joe. Some instinct told her he fed off fear and pain. “You won't get away with this."

  "Of course I will. I have connections you can't even imagine.” He reached for her again.

  A soft, deep voice halted his progress. “If you touch her again, I'll have to kill you. Do you want to be dead?"

  Joe whirled to see who dared interfere. “Mister, you'd better beat it, or you'll be the one dead."

  The rush of relief that hit Isabo would have brought her to the ground if the two muscle men hadn't been holding her up. “Staal."

  One of Joe's gangsters gasped, “That's him, boss.” The battered guy was silenced by an imperious hand gesture.

  Wearing nothing but a baggy pair of shorts, Staal sauntered down the dune. Beautiful, beautiful Staal, muscles rippling with every step. He smiled at her, and she felt a ridiculous rush of joy, despite the serious situation they found themselves in. “Hi, honey. Sorry I'm late, but traffic was horrendous.” What the hell was he talking about?

  Joe stepped toward Staal, his chest puffing out. “You don't know who you're messing with here, buddy. You better beat it."

  "Yeah, you said that before. But the thing is, Joe, I just can't leave my fiancé here for you and your goons to hurt. I'm just not made that way. And for the record, I know exactly who you are. And who your uncle is. And I'm not impressed. My people could buy and sell your uncle a thousand times over.” Contempt dripped from every word. “Now, you beat it."

  Spurred by Staal's derogatory remarks, Joe forgot the first rule of fighting: don't let your temper overrule your brain. “I'll show you.” He charged Staal as he reached for his concealed pistol.

  At the last second, Staal sidestepped, his fist crashing against Joe's jaw, even as a leg kicked out to send the 9mm flying. With lightning reflexes, Staal turned again, delivering punches to each kidney and a solid kick to the side of Joe's knee. The thug went down hard.

  Not one to sit idly by, Isabo lifted both feet off the ground, allowing her sudden weight to set the two who were holding her off balance. They dropped her in an attempt to stay on their feet, and she rolled across the sand, scooping up Joe's gun in her hand. Her action movie addiction served her well as she clicked the safety off and pointed the lethal end toward Joe's companions. “Freeze.” Eat your heart out, Jennifer Garner.

  The men totally ignored her.

  Damn. Maybe she didn't look serious, sitting in the sand. Scrambling to her feet, she braced her legs, gripped the pistol in both hands and again yelled, “Freeze."

  This time they actually glanced at her before they turned in tandem and headed for Staal.

  Well shit. Closing her eyes, she squeezed the trigger. When she opened them, she saw that not only had she not hit anything but she hadn't even slowed down their progress. “Staal, look out,” she screamed.

  She should have saved her breath. Her hero had them both subdued in seconds and was easing the pistol from her white-knuckled grip. “Honey, call the sheriff."

  She didn't move.

  Sighing, he pulled her against him, hugging her tight. “Isabo, I need for you to call the cops. I can't hold them off forever, and I really don't want to kill them unless I have to."

  "C-call the cops?"

  "Yes.” He reached down to unclip her cell phone and hand it to her. “Call the local authorities, and tell them to hurry up."

  "Oh, this doesn't work here. There's not a tower for miles."

  Staal chuckled. “Then why do you wear it around?"

  "Habit.” She glanced toward the rental house. “I'll just run to the house and call."

  "You do that, sweetheart.” He gave her butt a swat to get her moving.

  By the time old Harold Herbst, the local sheriff, arrived, Staal had herded the bad guys up to the house. He looked cool and calm training the gun on the three men who resembled losers in an Ultimate Fighting Championship bout. Harold cuffed the men, put them in the back of his county issue Explorer and took statements from both Isabo and Staal. When he was satisfied, he left, admonishing them to come to the office to follow-up within the next few days. Joe was complaining the whole time about how important his family was and how someone was going to pay for the way he was being treated. Finally Harold told him, “Son, around here we just don't give a shit who you are. And the judge is my father-in-law, so you might want to reconsider some of those derogatory remarks you've been making about me."

  Isabo watched them drive off, unaccountably shy now that she was alone with the man she'd been praying she'd see again. Go figure. Drawing a fortifying breath, she faced the object of her desire. “Is Lorali okay?"

  "She's well. Thanks for asking."

  Okay. That conversation didn't go far. “Thanks. For, you know, saving me."

  "You're welcome."

  So now what? Would they just stand there in the driveway and stare at each other? Should she come right out and ask him if he was a merman? That sounded too ridiculous to voice aloud. Maybe she should just jump his bones. Frankly, that was what was uppermost in her mind. Who or what he was really didn't matter. Finding out if the mind-blowing sex she remembered was as mind-blowing as she'd remembered was.

  Staal watched emotions flitter across her face. He longed to go to her, but he wanted to see how she'd react. He needed to know where he stood.

  "Are you really the head of marine studies at the University of Miami?"

  "You saw my ID.” Staal remained motionless.

  She snorted. “And Joe Calvo says he has mafia contacts, but that doesn't make it true."

  Shrugging his shoulders, Staal cocked one hip, shifting his weight and sending a contagion of muscles rippling down his chest, across his abdomen and into his low-riding shorts.

  Isabo felt the rush of moisture soak her panties.

  "Both are true."

  The deep sexy growl set off another gush. Isabo fidgeted. Eventually what he said registered. “What? What did you say?” Without waiting for him to reconfirm, she stepped closer, waving her arms toward the cloud of dust the sheriff's SUV left hanging in the air. “That slug is mafia? He's not exactly Soprano's material. He's a wannabe with his surfing tees and his stolen thesis."

  "Nevertheless, his uncle is the head of one of America's most renowned families. And I really am a professor."

  Isabo froze. She looked into Staal's aquamarine eyes and searched for truth. What she found was passion, unfettered and full-blown. Unable and unwilling to resist, she whispered, “What kept you away so long?” and leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs and arms around him and fa
stening her mouth to his.

  Her wet crotch hit him low on his bare stomach, and he groaned as he took over, plunging his tongue into her mouth and filling each palm with a buttock, tilting her hips to better align her.

  Drawing back he promised, “I'm going to fuck you till you scream. Then I'm going to start all over, licking every inch of you until you beg me to fill you again."

  "I'm begging now.” She rolled her hips, scraping her pussy against his washboard abs, abrading her clit in a most delicious way and generating another rush of moisture.

  "Not like you will be,” he promised as he headed for the house.

  Chapter Four

  Barely inside the door, Staal stood her up long enough to strip off her shorts, thong and all. “We've done the kitchen, how about the living room?” He fumbled with her shirt, tearing her bra in the process.

  "Hey, that's my new Victoria's—"

  Staal's mouth found her nipple, sucking vigorously, lapping gently, laving with his hot, wet tongue.

  Screw Victoria's Secret. She grabbed hold of his hair and held him closer, arching her back. “Harder. Suck harder."

  "Every day that we've been apart I've fantasized about you. I want you in every way known to man.” Walking her backward, he eased her rear onto the back of the couch, never moving his lips from her breast. Her feet still on the floor, he wedged himself between her thighs. “Oh, woman, I can't wait. I have to taste you.” Sliding down to his knees, he nipped at the top of her mons. “I can smell your heat.” The bikini waxing left most of her pussy bare, and he licked up each side over the smooth skin. “Better grip something solid, sweet, ‘cause I'm not stopping till you climax many times."

  Raising one leg over his shoulder, Staal went for the gold, laying the tip of his tongue against her clit, just holding it there, applying steady pressure, restraining her so she couldn't move against him. Then, when it appeared she'd lose her mind, he rotated it slowly.