by April Lust
“Don Ricci...you're right,” Brock said, trying to sound humble and contrite. “I won't deny it. I've had an inappropriate relationship with Margherita behind your back, and your anger is entirely justified. But you must believe me when I tell you this hasn't been some meaningless fling for me. I'm in love with your daughter, sir, and that's the truth. Now that this business with my father is over, I want to marry her. I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. And if she is, indeed, with child, I will dedicate my life to making sure your grandchild is the happiest and most beloved kid in the entire world.”
Brock couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Turo's eyes soften, just a little. Before he could say anything else, Turo's phone chirped. He checked the caller ID, but Brock already knew what it would show him: “UNKNOWN CALLER.”
Turo answered, putting the phone to his ear. “Whoever you are, you're not supposed to have this number.”
He listened for a moment.
Then his eyes bulged in terror, and his jaw went slack.
“Yes,” Turo whispered hoarsely. “Yes, he's with me.” After another moment, he lowered the phone, staring at Brock. “They know you're here. They want me to put them on speakerphone. They...Jesus, they say they've got Maggie.”
Brock allowed all the breath to leave his body, adopting the expression of someone who'd been punched in the chest. Inwardly, he celebrated. The call had come at just the right moment.
Turo hit the button on the phone, holding it out in front of him.
“Who is this?” Brock asked.
A high, reedy voice with a clipped Asian accent emanated from the phone. “This is Commander Bogyoke of the Kokang Independence Army, Mr. De Luca. Surely, you remember me from our discussions regarding your father.”
“What is this?” Brock demanded. “I paid your ransom, and you've released him. Our business is concluded.”
“Perhaps,” the voice admitted, sounding amused. “Perhaps it has. But once we became aware that Mr. Ricci was the one holding the abundant purse strings which secured your father's freedom, we decided that our business with him had just begun. So I have traveled to New Orleans with several of my officers, and now we have Ricci's daughter in our possession.”
“Bullshit,” Brock snapped. “I know how your organization operates, bluffing big and shaking people down with your terrorist tactics. I'm really supposed to believe you dirty jungle bastards traveled over a thousand miles across the world just to grab some girl for ransom?”
Bogyoke laughed. “We have managed to fight back against the full force of the Burmese government and their military for over a decade without being captured or killed, Mr. De Luca, despite being dramatically outmanned and outgunned. Do you truly believe it is beyond our capabilities to purchase a couple of airplane tickets to Louisiana?”
“Fine, then prove it. Put her on the phone.”
“Very well.”
There was a pause, and then Maggie's voice came through the phone. She was sniffling and sobbing, and her voice was ragged with panic. “Dad? Gabe? Can you hear me?”
Brock tried to look shocked and horrified, noting Turo's expression as he did. Turo's eyes were full of tears, and the muscles in his face sagged. His face was as white as his hair.
“No,” he whined. “Not my baby, please. Not my only child.”
“We're here, Maggie.” Brock tried to put a heroic, take-charge edge in his voice. “Can you tell us where you are?”
“They...they have a blindfold on me, and...God, they've hurt me so bad...they keep hitting me, and they broke two of my fingers...they...they say if you don't pay them, they're gonna...do things to me...I'm so scared, I've never been so scared, please, get me out of here...”
Bravura performance, Brock thought. This girl's a natural. Maybe once this is all over, she'll make a good con artist. He felt a sudden burst of newfound pride and affection. She was beautiful, she was smitten with him, she was dynamite in the sack...but best of all, she was smart.
“We'll get you out of there, sweetheart,” Turo insisted. “I promise, whatever it takes, we won't let them hurt you anymore.”
Bogyoke spoke again. “The price is fifteen million American dollars. You will meet us in Metairie Cemetery tonight at ten o'clock, in the mausoleum marked with the name 'Fournier.' Only you and Mr. De Luca are invited, and you are both to come unarmed. If any of these instructions are not followed, the girl will be made to suffer a series of unspeakable violations before she dies. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes,” Brock said. “We understand. We'll be there.”
“I'd like to hear it from Mr. Ricci, too, if you don't mind.”
“Of course.” Turo was weeping openly now. “Anything. Just please don't hurt my little girl.”
There was a click, and the line went dead.
“You're not going in there without me,” Adamo said immediately.
“Look, I know you're a tough guy,” Brock assured him. “No one's disputing that. But you heard what they said. If they see someone else with us, the deal is off. Bogyoke wasn't fooling around when he said his rebels have been fighting the army in Myanmar for years. These aren't a bunch of goombahs in silk shirts we're dealing with. They're hardened soldiers. They don't value life, not even their own.” He turned to Turo. “Can you get the cash together in time?”
“I suppose I can,” Turo replied in a small voice. “But after the fifteen million I've already paid...I'll have to use everything I've got. All my savings, all my businesses, all the money the crews who work for me have brought in, everything I own. My entire operation will be ruined. I'll have nothing left. Nothing.”
“We can't worry about that right now. The only thing that's important is making sure Maggie is safe. After that, my family can keep yours afloat until the heroin shipments start coming in. With everything you've done for us, it's the least we can do.”
“I can set up a sniper rifle nearby,” Adamo said. “Fire at them from cover.”
“You're not listening,” said Brock. “These are jungle commandos we're up against, trained in guerrilla tactics from the time they can crawl. Whatever you can think of, believe me, they've already thought of it.” He addressed Turo again. “As long as we do what they say, everything should turn out fine. Just meet me outside the gates of the Metairie Cemetery a few minutes before ten. Make sure you bring the full amount, because that's the first thing they'll check. I promise you, Turo...we'll get your daughter back.”
The look of pathetic gratitude on Turo's face was almost enough to make Brock feel sorry for him.
Almost.
Chapter 28
Brock
Brock gave the secret knock, and Maggie let him into the warehouse, smiling. “How'd I do?”
“You were perfect.” He kissed her, ignoring the dirty looks from the bikers behind her. “Are you sure you never worked a con before? Because seriously, wow. I'm in on it, and you almost convinced me!”
She laughed. “Come in. Everyone's getting ready for the big finale.”
Brock followed her inside. Hammer was in his black commando gear again, except the skull mask had been replaced with a balaclava. Brock leaned in to inspect Hammer's face and saw that his skin had been painted an olive hue, and his eyes had been given a vague almond shape.
“Nice,” Brock commented. “As long as the mask stays on, it should fool Turo.”
“I wasn't exactly planning on whipping it off in the middle of the deal,” Hammer grunted. Clearly, he was still angry. It didn't surprise Brock, but it still stung.
A few feet away, Ben worked on Greg's makeup. He'd fitted a convincing bald cap and added a long scar to Greg's face, and he was in the process of applying a short gray Fu Manchu mustache. Greg wore a camo ensemble.
“Not very subtle, is it?” Brock asked.
“A guy like Turo's probably only seen rebels from Southeast Asia in movies,” Ben pointed out. “We want to make sure he sees exactly what he expects to see.”
Brock addressed the room. “So, is everyone clear on the plan?”
“You and Turo get to the mausoleum at ten,” Hammer said. “I frisk you both to make sure Turo's really unarmed, and then I inspect the money.”
“Meanwhile, I get to do the damsel-in-distress bit,” Maggie chimed in.
“Then I pull a double-cross and say I won't release her after all.” Greg looked into a mirror, examining his makeup.
“At which point, I snatch Hammer's gun away, take you both out, grab Maggie, and tell Turo to make a run for it,” said Brock. “We split up. Splinter and Cobra fire off some blanks to spook him into running faster, and by the time he figures he's safe and tries to rendezvous with us, we'll be long gone.”
Robby stood against the wall with his arms folded.
“You seem pretty quiet all of a sudden,” Brock commented. “No yelling about how the plan is fucked, I'm an asshole who can't be trusted, and you can't believe you're still involved?”
“I guess I ran out of things to say.”
Brock raised an eyebrow, then walked over to Ben and spoke to him quietly. “Do you have that other thing I asked about?”
Ben slipped him a pair of cufflinks. “It's the left one. I tested it, and it should work fine.”
“Good. Thanks.” He turned to Maggie. “There's an office at the back of the warehouse, near the bathroom. Can I talk to you alone for a sec?”
Maggie nodded, and they walked into the office.
Chapter 29
Maggie
“You wouldn't happen to be pregnant, by any chance, would you?”
Maggie's eyes widened. She'd taken the pregnancy test right after they'd made the call to her father, and it had been positive. In her head, she'd been rehearsing what to say to Brock for almost an hour, imagining every possible reaction from him and trying to decide how she'd respond to each one. For her, the most farfetched outcome seemed to be the one in which he'd react with joy.
But she certainly hadn't expected him to bring it up first, and now that he had, all of her planned discussions had run away from her. She felt like a rabbit in headlights.
“How did you know?”
“Your mother saw you sneak me out of the house. And Turo said they've heard you getting sick in the mornings. He gave me a pretty rough time about it.”
“So that's why they've been looking at me like that,” Maggie sighed. “That makes sense. Okay. Is this the part where you tell me you can't deal with having a baby around, and you won't be taking me with you when this is over?”
Brock cradled her face in his hands tenderly. “This is the part where I tell you I'd never leave you behind to deal with the fallout after what we're about to do to Turo. It's the part where I tell you we belong together, no matter what. And if there's a baby, well, we'll just have to make sure we do a better job raising him than our parents did with us.”
“Or her,” Maggie whispered.
Brock grinned. “Or her.”
“I love you, Brock.” She felt warm tears spill down her cheeks.
He kissed her again. “I love you, too.”
Maggie clung to Brock like ivy embracing a wall, trying to find every nook and crease that would allow her to take root in him so they could become an inseparable whole. He held her tight and she felt strength and comfort in his arms, radiating from him, saturating every cell in her body with the unspoken promise of happiness and safety.
They both sank to the floor as one, their hands exploring each other's bodies eagerly. The carpeting in the office was cheap, ragged, and dusty, but Maggie didn't care. She lowered herself onto her back and pulled Brock on top of her, spreading her legs so he could lie between them. He reached up to brush some strands of hair out of her face and then he was kissing her again, sucking on her tongue gently but insistently.
She ran her fingertips through his hair and caressed his neck, enjoying his hunger for her. Even through his trousers, she could feel his cock stiffen against her thigh. She reached down, kneading it slowly and relishing the way Brock's breath caught in his throat at her touch.
Brock hooked his fingers under the hem of Maggie's dress, pulling it up over her head and tossing it aside. She arched her back and he reached behind her, unclasping her bra. A vent near the floor exhaled a hot, stale torrent of air, and as she felt it on her bare chest, her nipples hardened.
“Looks like we're both getting hard,” Brock said playfully.
He touched her breasts, and the faint tickle of his fingertips made Maggie wet. As he fondled her nipples, she closed her eyes, moaning softly.
“I'm yours, Brock,” she sighed happily. “Every part of me belongs to you.”
“Damn right.”
She felt the tip of his tongue trace a line down her chest, pausing briefly to kiss her breasts before continuing its journey down to her belly. His breath was so warm against her, washing over her skin in gentle waves like a tropical breeze. He nuzzled the damp area of her panties, breathing in deeply, as though he was savoring her primal musk.
Maggie opened her eyes again as Brock slid her panties down her legs and threw them over his shoulder. She caught a glimpse of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and then his head was between her legs. His tongue found her clitoris easily and she gasped as it flicked against her.
Even though he was just licking the surface of her, she felt it all the way down to the base of her spine, making her tremble and spasm uncontrollably.
“Oh yes,” she murmured. “Yes, Brock, please, just like that.”
Brock took her clit between his teeth tenderly, rubbing it with his tongue. As he did, he slid a finger inside of her, followed by another. They pressed against Maggie's G-spot and the room began to spin around her like a carousel. Her hands shook as her nails dug into the carpet at her sides. He moved his fingers in and out, in and out, expertly finding the most sensitive areas inside of her and applying pressure to them.
He was like a brilliant conductor and every nerve-ending in her body was an instrument in the orchestra, their individual notes rising in harmony until their chorus reached its apex.
“No one's ever made me feel like this,” Maggie whispered, each word carried on its own sharp exhalation like leaves on the wind.
Brock's mouth chuckled against her skin, and the tickle of his breath was more than she could bear.
“Take me...please...I need you inside of me, I need you now...”
Brock continued to taste her, the movements of his tongue and fingers growing more rapid, but not fast enough to give her what she needed. “Beg me,” he commanded between licks.
At first, Maggie couldn't gather her thoughts together into coherent words. What flickered across her mind were scattered colors, feelings, impulses. How could she speak when she couldn't even think?
“Beg me, or I'll stop.”
She mustered all of her strength and focus. “Please...please, take me...please, Brock, please, please, I'll do anything, please...”
Brock withdrew his mouth and fingers from her and moved forward until he was on top of her again. Maggie unhooked her fingernails from the carpet and impatiently reached up to seize the front of his shirt, tearing it open. His buttons scattered across the floor.
“That was an expensive shirt,” he said with a grin.
“We'll be rich soon,” Maggie laughed. “I'll buy you a closet full of them.”
A brief shadow passed over Brock's face, but before Maggie could ask why, he reached behind her head and pulled a handful of her hair. Maggie's head tilted back, exposing her neck. Brock planted a series of kisses under her jaw as he reached down with his other hand, unzipping his pants.
A moment later, he was inside of her, his cock growing even more rigid as it filled her up.
Brock plunged deeper into her with every thrust, their cries of passion crashing against each other in the air between them. Maggie was sure the others in the warehouse could hear them, but she didn't care. In that moment, her entire world was this man, t
his room, this feeling.
Their hips rocked against each other until they ached, each trying to disappear completely into the other. The sweat of their bodies mingled together in an intoxicating perfume. Brock pressed into her harder and harder, until Maggie believed she could feel him making his way up into her stomach, her chest, her heart. Her pulse seemed to throb in perfect time with their lovemaking, filling her ears with its singular booming rhythm.
They came as one and it was like a dam breaking, a gushing, elemental roar that ran through both of their bodies. Maggie wanted its raging current to lift them both up and wash them away together, anywhere at all, as long as they could continue to cling to each other.