Within a heartbeat, his lips touched hers, and she melted at the sensation. It was delicate at first, his kiss soft, innocent, barely a tease. But when his hand curled around her neck, their kiss deepened. He smelt divine, a heady scent of fresh soap and hot-blooded man. His hands brought shivers across her flesh as he glided them up and down her neck. Fire and passion mingled together, and she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to explore.
Her hands cruised across his shoulders and delved into his thick hair, pulling him to her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she urged herself to stop, deeming it to be too soon, yet she couldn’t. She wanted him, and if his kiss was any way to judge, Marshall wanted her too. Her body pulsed, and her heart danced, and she lost herself to the moment.
The injuries and hunger pains that had dominated her thoughts when she woke up faded into oblivion, replaced instead with delicious throbs that had her battered body coming alive.
It’d been an eternity since she’d experienced such heavenly sensations, but they’d never been this special, nor this intense. She traced her hands down his back, feeling the heat of his flesh beneath her fingers, and a moan tumbled from her throat.
Marshall pulled back, concern clouding his eyes. “You okay?”
His eyes and his words told her everything she needed to know; the two of them had slipped from casual acquaintances to become so much more. That thought alone was a wonderful aphrodisiac that had her mind racing and her body aching. “I’m better than okay.” She slid her hands beneath his shirt and raised it up over his head to reveal his superb body. Marshall had muscles in all the right places, and his chiseled chest glistened in the filtered sunlight.
The passionate restraint that’d held them captive evaporated in a flash, and while Marshall fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, Charlene explored the planes of his chest. She ran her fingers through his coarse chest hair and circled his hardening nipples with her fingers.
A delicious shudder tickled her flesh as he peeled the shirt from her shoulders. Marshall eased back to take in her nakedness. Her nipples peaked and hardened beneath his heady gaze. He reached up and sucked in a sharp breath as he touched his finger to a bruise above her right breast. “Oh, Charlene.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
He leaned forward and kissed the bruise, barely touching his lips to the purple mark. His hand curled beneath her breast, and she placed her hands on the bed covers and arched her back toward him, offering him more.
Marshall didn’t miss a beat. He leaned forward and trailed his tongue from one breast to the other, drawing out her nipples until they were hardened pebbles.
Her mind became a vacuum. Her senses became heightened. The touch of his lips . . . the caress of his hands . . . the deep moans tumbling from his throat . . . the smell of his body. Months of torment were whittled away.
Nothing in the world mattered but the two of them. Right here. Right now.
He ran his tongue around her nipple, creating a thrilling tingle that started at the tip of her breast, and cruised all the way down to the throbbing pulse between her legs. She drove her fingers through his unruly curls, dragged her nails across his scalp. He moved his hands up and down her thighs, each time edging higher. She parted her legs, letting him know she liked it. The sensations shuddering through her were like nothing she’d ever experienced before. And she wanted more.
She wanted it all.
Charlene flopped back on the covers and wriggled out of her shorts. Marshall reacted by standing up at the end of the bed, and it was impossible to miss the bulge in his pants. His eyes cruised up her body, drinking in every curve of her flesh. It was the most erotic moment of her life, and her body pulsed with a need to have him with her. In her.
He whipped his shorts off, and his manhood bounced toward her, large and proud.
She licked her lips at the glorious sight. Never before had she wanted a man so much. He paused there, and as much as she enjoyed the tantalizing moment, he seemed to as well. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. He licked his lips, leaned forward, placed one knee on the bed, then the other, and crawled up her body, taking his time to kiss every one of her bruises.
Her hands roamed over his flesh, greedy to explore every defined muscle. He paused at her breasts, licking, caressing, sucking, and Charlene writhed beneath the delicious onslaught.
When he drew himself up to gaze into her eyes, she imagined he was looking right into her soul. His lips lowered to her, and she opened her legs, letting him know she wanted him.
He entered her gently, taking his time to ease into her in one slow glorious movement. It was exquisite. Utterly perfect.
They moved together as one, slowly at first, each displaying measured control. She opened her eyes to see Marshall’s eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, lost in their own blissful world. She lifted her hips, and his thrusts grew deeper. Faster. As did his breathing.
She let herself go and rode a climax that had her calling out with pleasure.
Marshall’s eyes shot open, but he didn’t seem to be seeing. When he squeezed them shut again, he released a primal growl and thrust into her again and again until finally he collapsed to her side, panting.
Charlene nuzzled into the crook of his arm and resisted wincing as she rolled to face him. As she trailed her fingers up and down his chest, she wondered if meeting Marshall had been her fate—so many puzzle pieces had had to slot into place to put them in this bed together.
When he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, she decided it had been.
Chapter Twenty-six
Marshall admired Charlene’s gorgeous physique as she crawled off the bed and strolled to the bathroom. His body hummed with after-sex contentment, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Too damn long. He’d been shocked when Charlene had let him kiss her. No, shocked was a fucking understatement. He’d been blown away. She was young and stunning, and didn’t need a has-been like him in her life. Yet she’d been the one who’d initiated the sex. Not that he was complaining.
But he did wonder if it was some kind of crazy notion of hers, just to thank him.
He hoped like hell it was more than that.
Marshall crawled off the bed, tugged on his clothes, and returned to the kitchen to finish the bacon and cheese toasted sandwiches. He still had so many questions that needed to be answered, and before they anchored on American soil, he was determined to get them.
When Charlene stepped from the bathroom a short time later, her face was delicately flushed, and she smelled incredible. But it was her cheeky smile that caught his attention. He turned to her. “What?”
She curled a hand around her wet hair and shrugged her shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Nope. Damn surprise to me too.” It took all his might not to pull her to his body again.
She stepped closer. “Are you complaining?”
“Hell, no. That . . .” For the first time ever, Marshall was lost for words. “That just doesn’t happen to me.”
“Hmm, shame.” She glided her fingers up his arm, and he clutched her hand.
“Charlene . . . look, there’s no doubt we have some chemistry or something going on here. But—”
“But what?” she stepped back, frowning.
He turned to the sizzling toasted sandwich maker and lifted the lid. “But you’ve been through a very traumatic experience.”
“And?”
“And people do all sorts of weird shit after trauma.”
“Weird shit? Is that what you call it?”
“You know what I mean.” He plucked the sandwiches out and placed them onto two plates.
“No, I don’t actually. I certainly don’t make a habit of flopping into bed with every man I meet.”
Marshall wanted to punch himself. Charlene was affecting him in so many ways, both physically and emotionally, but he had to tread lightly. He’d fallen off the rails before. And fallen so bloody hard it’d taken him years to find the tracks
again. He had no idea where this—whatever this was—was going, but he’d rather cut it short now than risk crashing and burning big-time.
He turned to her with the plates in his hands. She had her arms folded and her butt against the counter. Despite the incensed look on her face, she was as sexy as hell.
“Come on, let’s eat, and chat, and see where the conversation takes us.”
Her shoulders softened, and she grabbed the plate and bottle of water, and he led the way up to the flybridge.
The day was glorious. Blazing sun high in the sky. Handful of clouds on the horizon. Stunning brunette to share it all with. It didn’t get much better than that. He told himself to simmer down as he took his seat behind the wheel.
Charlene wriggled in at his side and placed her plate between them. “Where are we?”
“About forty miles out from Key West.”
“Hmm. Is that good?”
“Better than being on Cuban soil.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
She raised her water. “I’ll drink to that.”
Marshall shifted in his seat to look at her. The bruising over her eye looked to be getting worse by the second. Seeing it infuriated him all over again. Crazy woman nearly got herself damn-well killed.
“What?” She must have seen his fury.
He huffed. “You nearly died out there, Charlene. What the hell drove you to go off on your own like that?”
Her eyes flared. “I told you. I am alone.”
“It’s more than that. I know it, and you know it.”
She nodded, and when she inhaled a deep sigh, he had a feeling she knew her ruse was up. After another bite of her sandwich, she slipped off her chair. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
He’d finished his meal by the time she returned.
Charlene slipped back onto her seat and turned to face him. “At the dance club, I found a clue to Peter’s real identity, and that led me to Diego. I had no idea who Diego was. All I knew was that he might help me find answers.”
“Was it worth it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me.” She held forward a roll of cloth.
“What’s this?”
“At the chocolate factory, Diego held me captive in a room; actually, it was more like an old well or something. Anyway, I found a teddy bear with that note inside.”
Frowning, Marshall unrolled the fabric. “Is that blood?”
“Yes. I remember my mother writing it.”
“Whoa. Back up the bus. What do you mean?”
“When I found the teddy bear, I recalled having it as a child. And . . . well, it was some kind of trigger that brought back a heap of memories I’d somehow forgotten. Diego had locked my mother and me in that hellhole once before. I think I was six at the time. Maybe my mother knew she was going to die.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, she tore off some of her skirt and used her own blood to write that note. I need to know what it says.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on Marshall’s knee. “Can you read it for me?”
He shifted his gaze from her to the bloody note and back again. “You may not like what it says.”
“I know.” Her caramel eyes were simultaneously fearful and pleading.
He huffed out a sigh and flattened the note on his thigh.
“I am Benita Álvarez, mother of Claudia . . .”
He frowned at her. “Claudia?”
“Yes. I didn’t remember being called by that name until Diego said it yesterday.”
Marshall’s confusion deepened as he returned his gaze to the note.
“I am Benita Álvarez, mother of Claudia, sister of Diego. 6 year ago, Noah Montgomery raped me. He is very dangerous American man. My daughter is his child.”
Marshall cocked his eyebrow at Charlene, and she simply shrugged.
“Diego is blackmailing Noah, and he is coming to Cuba. If you find this, I am dead. I pray he saves Claudia.”
He flipped the note over. “That’s it.” He turned his attention to Charlene.
Tears pooled in her eyes, and she was sucking on her bottom lip. Marshall slipped over on the chair and pulled her to him. “Hey, don’t cry.”
But she did cry. Her shoulders heaved, and he rode out her wave of sadness with a brick in his heart. An overwhelming desire to help her nearly crushed him. The smart thing to do would be to tell her to walk away and let it all go. But he didn’t always choose the smart thing. There wasn’t any fun in that.
He waited until the tears stopped; then he pulled her back from him and looked into her red-rimmed eyes. “You believe this Noah dude killed your mother?”
“Diego told me he watched Noah strangle my mother to death.” Her chin dimpled, but she managed to hold it together.
His mind flipped to Noah shooting that woman. He’d done it without hesitation. Just point and shoot. Noah was a cold-hearted killer, and that clearly wasn’t his first time. Noah thinks he’s invincible. And Marshall looked forward to the day he lobbed a grenade into the cocky bastard’s ivory tower and dragged him to the gutter, where he belonged. He just had to prove it first. “I promise you he won’t get away with this.”
A frown rippled across her forehead.
“Montgomery. That asshole is going to pay.”
“How?”
“Let’s start with you telling me everything that happened with Diego.”
As Miss B Hayve took the repetitive three-foot swells in her stride, Charlene replayed everything she’d gone through with Diego. By the time she’d finished, it was getting dark, and Charlene had elevated herself to one hell of a woman. Not too many people would’ve survived what she’d been through. But she hadn’t just survived, she’d kicked ass. With each blow she’d recounted from Diego, Marshall grew more and more pissed off that he hadn’t taken his time when he’d shredded the bastard’s body to bits.
Diego got off way too lightly.
He was going to make damn sure Noah didn’t.
He eyeballed the time—it was nearing seven o’clock. Time to head back to home country. Charlene remained silent as he fired up the engine again and set a course for Key West.
As the stars began dotting the blackness above them, Charlene continued her silent brooding. It wasn’t until they saw lights in the distance that she let out a big huff. “I guess this is the end of the line, huh?”
“What?”
She curled her shoulders up in a shrug. “Well . . . I paid you to take me to Cuba, and you have. So, I guess this is the end.”
“Hell, no.”
Her face shifted into a look of confusion. “No?”
“No. This is only the beginning. Noah’s going to pay.”
A smile lit up her face, and when she tugged her lip into her mouth, it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Miss B Hayve ploughed into a wave that curved over the front windshield, and once the water cleared, Charlene leaned over and kissed Marshall’s cheek. “But how? We have no proof.”
“Not yet. I have a few navy buddies who may help me out.”
“Really?”
“What? You don’t think I have buddies?”
“Of course, I do.” She slapped his shoulder. “But why would they help?”
Marshall winked at her. “Let’s just say I keep them stocked up with quality Cuban cigars and rum.”
Charlene burst out laughing, and her unexpected reaction was adorable. She eased sideways on the chair and kissed his cheek again. “Thank you.”
His stomach flipped at her incredible scent. “Don’t thank me yet.”
“I am thanking you. No matter what happens, I’m already happy.”
“I won’t be happy until that smug bastard drowns in his own vomit.”
“Actually, you’re right. Me neither.”
He guided Miss B Hayve into the marina and eyeballed Warren’s boat. He’d hate to think what would’ve happened had Charlene committed to the illegal trip with Warren and his dipshit brothers. He doubted she’d have made it home. It occurred to
him that she didn’t have a home to go to. He’d been like that once, some six or so years ago. It hadn’t bothered him at the time; he’d have slept on a park bench if he needed to. Not that he ever did. Someone always took him in. But Charlene didn’t have that someone. It blazed across his brain that he’d like to change that.
He turned to her. “I assume you have nowhere to sleep, so you’re coming with me.”
She managed to suck her bottom lip into her mouth and smile at the same time. The smile quickly broadened, and he just about burst with pride when she nodded. “I’d love to.”
Charlene helped him tie Miss B Hayve up to the wharf; then they grabbed their things and locked her up. Marshall led the way and helped Charlene down onto the marina pontoon. Within five minutes of turning off Miss B Hayve’s engines, they were in Marshall’s Dodge and on their way to his shack on the beach.
He could easily remember the last time he’d had a female in his bed; it was a good three years ago when he’d picked up a woman at Pirate Cove. Actually, truth be told, she’d picked him up. She’d been nice enough, though, and he’d wanted nothing more than a quick roll beneath the sheets. Thankfully, she’d wanted the same.
Charlene was more than that. So much more.
He pulled into his driveway, which hugged the cliff face, and offered no hint at what lay at the end of the road. The handful of people who’d visited his home had liked what they’d seen, yet for some obscure reason, Marshall’s gut twisted at the prospect of showing Charlene.
“Don’t expect much,” he blurted out as the truck bounced over a pothole he’d been meaning to fix for months.
“I’m sure it’s lovely.”
He huffed. “I dunno about that.”
“As long as I have a roof over my head, I’m happy.”
Considering her back history, he believed her. The headlights lit up the corrugated iron roof first, followed by the roughly cut planks he’d put into place himself. When he’d bought the place, it’d barely been standing. But he’d committed himself to fixing it up, and he didn’t believe in doing things in halves. He’d replaced nearly everything—the walls, the floors, the verandas, even the roof. Only the stumps and the plumbing were original.
Zero Escape Page 24