by ANGEL PAYNE
“Nothing to explain, really. You know I might be right, though…right?”
I dropped my hands atop my thighs. They didn’t fare much better than the armrests. “Okay, let’s set all this on the back burner to simmer for now. We still have to deal with the pirate situation.”
“Yeah. Fucking bastards.” Twombley gave it enough growl for both of us, allowing me to be the all-business guy in this part of the exchange.
“How bad is it?” I demanded. “I got a few hits online, but they were buried around the fourth or fifth result. I’m in the damn dark here.”
The guy sat up straight again. “Our brokers seem to think the problem is significant.”
I clenched my jaw. “How so?”
“A freighter was boarded overnight. Six crew members were taken hostage. I spoke to the freight company’s PR rep right before I came in here, and she said communications with the ship have been cut completely.”
“Well, at the risk of sounding mercenary, do we have cargo on that ship?” I asked.
Grant pulled in another sizable breath. His face was set in stern lines. “Unfortunately, we do. But you know as well as I do that this is the MO for these bastards. They hold the freight and crew as collateral until their demands are met.”
“Christ,” I bit out. “Has anyone cross-referenced the cargo manifest? Looked to see who else’s shipments are being delayed—and how we might be able to coordinate recovery with them?”
“The route was scheduled from Kendari to Port Klang, with at least one stop in Palembang.”
“And?” I prompted.
“And that’s all I can remember, man. Sorry.” My friend dug his forefinger and thumb into his eye sockets, seeming to be fighting the same impending migraine as me. “I know they unloaded some containers in Palembang, but that’s it. The dispatchers are trying to figure what was still onboard. Additionally, if other freight was taken on in Sumatra and so on… Well, we’re still trying to untangle a big fucking mess.”
Well, that sealed the deal. By now my head was pounding. I leaned back in the chair and ground my fingers into my temples. Of all the times for this kind of shit to be happening. When it rained, it poured—only this was all a damn hurricane.
And with her usual awful timing, the next band of the storm knocked on my office door.
Grant joined me in gritting out our favorite F-word. Even the sound of Terryn’s timid knock annoyed me, but I didn’t dare permit her full access to the room. I gave up my comfortable position and strode to the door. My freak show of an assistant visibly startled when I whooshed the panel open.
“What is it?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Oh. Umm.” She fluttered a hand to her necklace, her usual nervous reaction. “Ex…cuse me…for interrupting, Mr. Shark…”
“What. Is. It?”
Terryn forced an awkward smile. “Mrs. Gibson is here with your lunch.”
A quick look at my watch showed more than an hour had passed since Grant had come in. “Christ, this day is slipping away.” I looked over to my COO. “Are you having lunch in the office today?” While he scrolled through his phone, presumably to check his schedule, I told Terryn, “Show her in.”
While I gave Rio a decent smile as she pushed the Abstract Catering cart in, it was rough not to add a visible eye tick, as well. I craved the sight of my woman’s smile behind that conveyance instead. I ached with a thousand kinds of remorse, knowing she hated being away from her business.
“The usual spot there?” Rio motioned toward the seating area but pulled up short when she saw Grant sitting there. I looked on, instantly riveted, as the two of them locked gazes for a second. A long damn second. A second in which a wave of discernible electricity charged the air between them.
As they both recovered, hurriedly returning to their tasks, I raised a finger. Lowered it. What the hell was I going to say about that crazy bullshit? If I hadn’t just witnessed it—felt it—for myself, I wouldn’t have believed what just happened.
Interesting. Very interesting. And as replacement for focusing on a migraine, it didn’t suck one bit.
“Mr. Twombley.”
“Ms. Gibson.”
“It’s Mrs. Gibson, remember?” Rio stabbed her left hand into the narrow space between their forms.
“Blink and you’d miss it,” he said with a roguish wink, causing the woman to answer with a huge eye roll. “If that’s the sort of thing that matters, I guess.”
“It matters.” She visibly seethed.
Grant only widened his grin.
Mother. Fucker.
“If you have mine there, I’ll just eat here with Mr. Shark, please.”
“Whatever Your Highness desires.”
She performed a dramatic curtsy, much like a prima ballerina during a grand curtain call, but the overture just seemed to spur Grant on. Again, if I wasn’t watching it, I’d never believe it—but my best friend was already in motion, sliding in to loom his six-foot-six frame over her feisty little one.
Then he leaned in even closer. Ducked his head and uttered, in an intense but quiet timbre, “Submissive looks damn good on you, Blaze.”
Rio sputtered and choked like she’d gulped water wrong. “You are so barking up the wrong tree, dog.” She stared up at him, openly defiant. Her eyes were huge and round—and as undeniably dark as espresso beans. “In fact, you’re in the wrong forest altogether.”
Once more, Grant’s grin was nothing but broad playfulness. “I’m not so sure.” He looked her over slowly, from the top of her pixie haircut down to her Dr. Martens-clad feet. “But keep telling yourself that.”
As the woman dropped his tray of food on the table beside mine, I raised my finger again.
As a bunch of his pasta salad spilled out onto the table, I decided to lower it again. Slowly.
Rio, after all, was taking full charge of all the brash behavior in the room. “Oops,” she spat past a saccharine smirk before spinning on her heel and ramming the cart back out of my office. She didn’t bother reclosing the door, an opportunity that had Terryn all but salivating in let-me-save-the-day glee.
“Oh, my God,” she huffed. “How dare she? That woman is so rude! Do you need help with anything, Mr. Shark? Anything at all?”
Before I could bark out something in return, Grant cut in. “We’re fine, Terryn,” he said while smoothly shoveling his food back onto the service tray. “Would you mind just closing the door when you go out, though? Thank you.”
We ate in silence for several minutes.
Long. Damn. Minutes.
That I should’ve let lie.
I mean…hell. The man was my best friend—but Christ, Rio was, in all likelihood, my future sister-in-law. If he wanted to tell me what I’d just witnessed, then—
No. Screw it. There was no fucking way I couldn’t say something. Anything.
“Dude.”
“Cool your jets, big guy,” he said around a mouthful of food. “I was just messing with her.”
“Bullshit.”
“She’s married. You know I don’t play that way. Even I have standards.”
I tilted my head a bit. Then a little more. Calling his bluff without words.
“Christ,” he growled. “Ease up. She’s like catnip. I can’t help myself. All that spunk and fire and…well, yeah.”
My buddy shifted in his chair, and I recognized the move. Things were likely getting uncomfortable in his slacks, but I’d show him some mercy and not point it out. Or maybe I would…
The fucker was saved by my phone’s distinct chirp. It was a text from Banks.
Call me re: Abbigail
My stomach surged into my chest. At once, it shoved my heart into my throat. “Crap,” I spat beneath my breath before activating my office’s computerized assistant. “Siri, call Elijah.”
While the line was connected and then ringing, Grant abandoned his cavalier bit to quickly ask, “What’s going on? Everything okay?”
“We’re about to find out. He just
said to call him regarding Abbi.”
Elijah picked up just after the second ring. “Hey, man. Thanks for calling so quickly.”
“No problem. Grant’s here too. We were just inhaling lunch.”
“Hey, Twombley.”
“Hey, man,” Grant returned between gulps of the bottled iced tea Rio had left intact.
“You ever actually work these days?”
“You ever try getting up at four to make a few hundred artisan grilled cheese melts?”
“What’s going on, Elijah?” I charged. “Is she okay?”
There was a weighted pause from the other side of the line. At last Elijah revealed, “In all seriousness, Bas? I think you should get your ass back out here as soon as you can.”
I leaped to my feet. Stayed braced there, hands on hips, as if threatening to lose my shit at any second. “What the hell is going on? Tell me right now!”
“Yeah, yeah…okay.” He punctuated with a strangled sound. “I really think she needs medical attention, man. I mean, I’ve pushed to take her to the hospital, but she’s refusing—yet she won’t let me call a doctor to come to the house. That is one stubborn woman you’ve got on your hands.”
I felt like tearing out my own hair. Instead, I barked, “Let me speak to her.”
“She’s sleeping. She won’t get out of bed nor will she speak directly to me.” The concern in my friend’s voice was palpable. It was likely what saved most of my hair follicles. “She’ll only allow the women in and out of the room. But Dori told me she looks worse every time she goes in there.”
“Wait. What do you mean she’s not speaking to you? What the fuck, Banks?” I scrubbed my hand down my face. “You said you’d ease up on her.”
“And I swear, I have. We had a long talk yesterday, and everything was fine. I even told her about Hensley.”
“What? Why? Why the hell would you do that?” My head throbbed again, five times worse than before. I could barely wrap my mind around actionable thought, let alone a rough comprehension of why Banks had all but sliced his soul back open and let it bleed all over my fragile, beautiful woman. “Never mind,” I snarled. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll have Joel bring me in the helicopter again. I’ll text you the details, but don’t share them with Abbigail.”
A deep grunt from the overhead office speakers. “Remember that part where she refuses to see or speak to me?”
I simply nodded. I didn’t care that he couldn’t see me. Right now, I didn’t know whether to be moved he’d gone out on such a limb and shared his secrets with Abbi or to tell him to keep walking until he fell out of the tree. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Sounds like a plan. See you soon.”
We hung up, and I swung my stare up at Grant. “Feel like making a trip to beautiful Twentynine Palms?” I couldn’t believe I laughed while asking it, but suddenly, the company sounded terrific. And this pirate dilemma wasn’t going away anytime soon.
“Sure. I probably have an overnight bag in my office.”
“Imagine that,” I quipped.
“Let me go see what I have. By the time you scramble Joel, I’ll be ready too.”
He was already halfway out the door, but I was thankful for his decisive move. I needed the galvanizing force right now—despite what he said as a follow-up.
“On the way there, you can tell me what the hell is really going on. Because I can only think of one reason why he’d tell Abbi about Hensley. And then the fact that she is throwing up that much…”
I whipped up a hand, stopping him there. Like me, he was already putting the pieces together. And honestly, I just wanted to get to her, get a doctor to come to see her, and find out what we were really dealing with.
We were winding up the long driveway of the desert estate by dinnertime. When we got inside, I headed straight for the master bedroom. I didn’t bother knocking on the door, just pushed through the entrance to find the big bed rumpled and empty.
“What the—” I choked into silence, my heart again lodging in my throat, until I breathed long enough to hear the ricochets of the running shower against the master bathroom’s sprawling tiles.
A setup like this didn’t get more perfect.
“Nowhere to hide now, Little Red.”
As I murmured it, I shed my clothes. And then entered the steamy room.
Abbi was standing under the spray, head tilted back, rinsing soap out of her thick, fire-red tresses. The suds flowed over her full, lush breasts and down over her sleek, wet thighs. They swirled around her feet, with their toes painted a color to match her hair.
I was smitten by her all over again. And proved it with a low, savoring growl.
Her eyes popped wide—but, thank God, she stifled her alarmed screech.
“Oh, my God!”
Okay, most of her screech.
“Sebastian! Wh-What are you doing here?”
I answered by opening the shower door and stepping inside the stall to join her. Though she fish-gaped her mouth, no words emerged up her throat. I was just fine with that. “Happy to see me?” I murmured while wrapping my arms tight around her wet, gorgeous body. And then slicking my fingers into her warm, secret crevices…
“Hmmm. Yes. God…yesss.” Within seconds, she returned the heat of my eager embrace—many minutes passed before we were done just enjoying the feel of one another.
Finally, she pulled back a bit to look up at me. “Wow. I’m so surprised to see you.”
I regarded her past a hooded gaze. “Good surprised?”
“What do you think?” She batted my chest, spattering my face with the splashing result. “I just had no idea you were coming. Did Elijah know? Oh, my God. He’s such a—”
I cut her off with a firm but lingering kiss. “How are you feeling, baby?” I murmured when I was done.
“I’m okay,” she said at once—though never met my gaze while doing so. I decided not to push her on it, though.
Not yet.
“Are you finished in here? Or…can I help you?” I decided it was a rhetorical question. Washing her sexy body was one of my favorite things to do, and damn it, I deserved a little reward after my dusty flight. Even if she was already squeaky clean, I wanted my hands on her. She’d have to endure another round.
As she watched, I squeezed body wash into my palm and then made a lather between my hands. I started with my flat palms against her shoulders and upper arms, stroking her skin with sudsy fingers.
“Mmmm,” she moaned. “That feels so good.”
She tilted her head back under the spray again. I took a moment to simply gaze at her, captivated by her gleaming and brilliant glory. My hands were guided by the force of my need for her, washing across her chest and collarbones and then carefully down over her breasts. Her nipples stood at attention through the bubbles when I skated my fingers across them. She winced when I grazed the tight buds, and I studied her features as I did it again.
“What’s wrong, Abbi? Sore?”
“Uhhh…yes. I guess you were a little rougher than I realized, Mr. Shark.”
As she blatantly referenced our marathon lovemaking from a few days ago, I merged my mischievous smile with hers. But not for long. I was too distracted. “I do love these tits, baby. So damn pretty.”
I touched her nipples again, wanting to thumb the stiff peaks, but she startled backward and covered them. “No. Too much. I’m…sorry. I’m just hurting everywhere. I’m really sorry.”
She frantically dropped her gaze. I didn’t miss a second of it.
Hmmm. The floor was mighty interesting to her tonight. She couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off it.
I washed the rest of her body with even more care. Knowing we weren’t in the shower as a precursor to a lovemaking session, the movements were purely me caring for her. I didn’t want to put her on edge.
I pushed her back a step so she could rinse off, making sure she was free of all the soap suds, and then shut off the water. Two towels were hanging over the
door, so I pulled one down and wrapped her hair up in her cute turban style. We both grinned when the wrap was in place, enjoying a quiet remembrance of the first time I’d done that for her. Our love story—and yes, that was what it was—had moved at five times the speed of most, but in so many ways, I felt like I’d known this extraordinary human for a lifetime. The thought of her not being in my world was completely unacceptable.
The resolve was a welcome helper as I patted Abbi dry, making sure every drop was wicked from her sensitive skin, and then grabbed a towel off the rack and secured it around my waist. I wasted no time in guiding her back into the bedroom.
“Do you have some pajamas you want to put on?” I asked her along the way, deliberately ignoring the slight shrug she gave as response. “Perhaps a T-shirt and some leggings?” I pressed and started opening the drawers of the dresser, one after the other, until my increasingly frantic search finally led to stuff that resembled pajamas. I grabbed the most conservative pair in the stash and walked back over to the bed.
“How about these?” I offered the light-blue cotton sleep set to her.
“Thank you.”
I let her quietly dress before I spoke again. I feared the next bit of news would send her over the edge, but my decision was irrefutable whether she liked it or not.
“Abbigail.”
“Hmmm?”
“It’s time, baby.”
She sighed while letting her hair tumble free from the towel. “For what?”
“I told Elijah to make a call. There’s a doctor on the way to examine you.”
She shot her eyes up to mine. Took in a huge, meaningful inhalation. My gut wrenched when she probed my features with her stare. “Sebastian…”
“We have to figure this out, okay? You’re not well. If anything awful happened to you…”
My world would end.
I would end.
She waited for a moment to say anything more, seeming to think better of it. She dropped her head again. “Oh, Sebastian.”
“Baby.” I plunged to my knees at the side of the bed and pushed my way between her knees. “Talk to me, Abbigail. What is it?”
She dipped her shoulders but managed to raise her head—at least high enough that I could see the tears brimming in her eyes. Every one of her tears was a new sting in my heart, even as they collected on her lashes then spilled over onto her cheeks. As they plopped, over and over, onto the cotton fabric lapel of her pajama top, she started to speak again. Stopped. Started. Then again.