Chapter Nineteen

 

Dusk was falling as the bike rolled up to a tiny run-down shack on the edge of the bayou. There was a rusted sign that read J&P Bait Shop. The building was made of corrugated metal with a faded red roof.

“Why are we stopping here?” Cat asked as they dismounted.

Blood strode toward the door. “We need a boat, come on.”

Cat frowned at him as he held the door for her. She walked into the tiny building. There were a few shelves with merchandise, motor oil, fishing line, bait cans, Styrofoam coolers, all of it coated in dust. She followed Blood as he moved to the counter and pounded on a bell.

“Jean Michel? Pierre? Get your coon-asses out here!” There was a small curtained doorway that led to a back room where some banging stopped.

“Who dat?” A heavily Cajun accented voice carried to the front.

“Come find out, boy.” Blood walked over to an upright cooler and pulled two Cokes from the top shelf. He passed one to Cat and twisted the cap off his, tilting it up and guzzling down a third of the bottle.

A moment later the dingy green curtain was shoved aside and a man stuck his head out. He was about Blood’s age, from what Cat could surmise, about a foot shorter, and dark haired. His brown eyes crinkled as he smiled, then turned to shout back into the room behind him. “Coo-wee, Pierre, gar ici. Cousin Etienne.”

“Dit mon la verite’!” came a voice from the back room.

“I’m tellin’ you da truth, Couillon!”

Blood grinned as the two men argued, then he moved forward to embrace the first man, slapping him on the back. “Been a long time, Jean Michel.”

“True, dat.”

A second man came out and stopped in his tracks. “Well, hot damn. Etienne!”

Cat could see that the two men had to be identical twins.

Blood moved to embrace him as well. “Pierre. How’s your mama an’ them?”

“Bon. Bon. Still makes the best crawfish gumbo in Terrebonne Parrish. You should come round.”

Blood nodded. “Oui.”

The man’s eyes moved to Cat. “Qui C’est q’ca, Boo?”

“That’s Catherine Randall. And you call me that nickname again, I’ll beat your ass.”

“What? Boo? I always call you Boo, since I was dis high.” The man held his hand knee high.

“Beck moi tchew!” Blood snapped with a grin.

The man grinned over at Cat and informed her, “He just told me to bite his ass.”

Cat laughed, her eyes moving to Blood. She was amazed at how quickly he slipped into the Cajun language he must have grown up around.

“Cher, pay him no mind.”

Cat smiled at the man and held her hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Jean Michel. How do you do?”

The man looked at her hand, and then grinned over at Blood. “Owee. She’s a formal one, eh?” Then he took her hand and pulled her in for a hug instead of a handshake. “You with Boo, then you family. We family, we don’t shake hands, we hug.”

“I see, Mister…?”

“Jean Michel Robichau.”

The second man came forward and extended his hand. “Some of us have manners. Pierre Robichau, Cher.”

Cat shook his hand.

Jean Michel looked to Blood and jerked his head toward her. “Gaienne?”

Blood let out a huff of laughter. “Non, Jean Michel. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“You been out to see Tante Marie?” Pierre asked.

Blood shook his head. “Non. Headed to the old place. If it’s still standing.”

“Oui, it’s still standing.”

“Co faire? You ain’t been back in years.”

“None of your business why, Jean Michel.” Blood looked to Pierre. “I need a boat.”

The man nodded. “Mais yeah, we got those. You wanna take da pirogue?”

Blood shook his head, grinning. “I was thinking something with a motor.”

“I make you a deal. I loan you da boat, you promise to go see Tante Marie.”

“Mais yeah, if I’ve got time.”

“You make time, Boo.”

Blood rolled his eyes. “Oui.”

 

***

 

Fifteen minutes later, Cat sat in a small motorboat with Blood behind her, his hand on the outboard, steering them through the bayou. They rounded a bend, coming into a wider body of water, and Blood opened up the motor, moving them quickly across it. There was the heavy scent of salt in the air, and Cat turned to the west to see a dark wall of gray clouds on the horizon as a storm rolled in, and with it, Cat felt a sense of foreboding.

Finally, Blood slowed the boat and turned down a narrow inlet. He seemed to know the terrain like the back of his hand, and she supposed that made sense considering he grew up here.

Still, she didn’t know how he did it. It seemed like just a mass of twisting turning jumble, one bayou leading to the next. They moved deeper and deeper into the swamp. The Cypress trees stood black against the darkening sky as the storm blew in off the Gulf like the scent of smoke warned of a forest fire.

The scent of the salty ocean breeze mingled with the smell of the bayou, a mix of decaying wood and flowering blooms. They coasted past large swaths of Water Hyacinth that covered the water with green waxy leaves and pale lavender blooms. Cat spotted purple Iris near the shore. They moved through the water, following a narrow path of clear glassy water that seemed to be cut through the trees and lily pads by years of boats traveling through. The trail twisted and snaked through the swamp like one of the anaconda that were taking over.

The thought of the snake—and what else may be lurking under the surface of the murky water—had Cat tensing a bit.

“Afraid of something, Cher?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the swamp is the prowling ground of North America’s largest reptile.”

“Are there…many?” Her gaze darted around.

“About two million in the state.”

She shivered, and he chuckled. “Largest one ever recorded was more than nineteen feet long.”

“Stop. Please.”

He chuckled again, but kept quiet.

They moved through a tunnel of overhanging branches and low hanging trails of silvery Spanish moss. Cat reached out and touched a feathery branch, surprised to discover how soft it was.

Journeying out to the swamp was like going back in time, back to an uncivilized primitive time. And she supposed for Blood, he was going back in time— returning to the home of his childhood, one she was pretty sure he hadn’t returned to before now.

The dark waters they moved slowly through gave an eerie feel to their trip. They turned one way and then another, winding this way and that, as Blood led them so far into the dark swamp Cat wondered if he’d ever find his way back.

It made Cat think of his twisting journey to get to the truth of what had happened to his mother. To think that his father had killed her was so horrible; she couldn’t imagine how he focused on anything right now, let alone help get Holly back. How could that be more important to him?

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this trip was a way to keep his mind off dealing with everything Big John had revealed to him. But she couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen when he came face-to-face with his childhood home. That would have to bring up all sorts of memories.

As a chill blew across her exposed arms, she ran her hands back and forth over her skin and thought of her sister. Big John said a buyer was coming on Friday. That was just two days from now, and the clock was ticking.

And it all boiled down to this trip out into the swamp.

Blood steered the boat around another bend and slowed the engine. Cat looked around, almost missing the shack all together. A house up on stilts sat just back up the shore from a dilapidated pier. It was so overgrown with vines that it was barely visible.

She swallowed as Blood coasted the boat to the pier, jumping off to tie it to one of the posts that stood listing to the side.

Cat’s eyes moved over the property. There were several old appliances rusting in the yard to the side—a stove, a refrigerator, and several motors. Old gas cans and a plethora of junk littered the ground. Cat couldn’t imagine Blood’s life as a child growing up in a place like this.

“Come on, Cher.”

She turned to see Blood holding his hand out to her. Slipping her hand in his warm, firm grip, she let him help her out of the boat and up onto the pier.

“Watch your step.”

She followed him up the shaky pier, onto the soft, spongy ground, and then up the stairs. He opened a screen door from the small porch that led into another covered porch. The door was unlocked, and she followed him inside. It was a bare bones structure with a small kitchen area off to the right, the main room with a living and dining area, and two small bedrooms whose walls only went up about eight feet. The walls were bare wood with no insulation. There were no ceilings, just open wood rafters to the roof. An old wood-burning stove sat against the wall between the two bedrooms and must have served as heat for the entire place.

Cat noticed only kerosene lamps sitting on tables, and she could only guess the place didn’t have electricity, and she wondered if it ever had.

Blood moved to open some windows, exposing the screens and letting the cool breeze blow through. Cat was grateful for the storm blowing in with its cooling effect, but she worried about getting back out before they were caught in it.

The light of day was fading quickly. If they were going to search the place, they needed to move fast, but Blood seemed to know exactly where he was looking. He moved to a board in the floor. Taking his knife from his belt, he flipped the blade open and jimmied it loose. It popped up after a moment, and he yanked the board up, tossing it aside. He put his hand in and pulled out what was hidden in the space. Moving to the table, he set the items down—a leather-bound book of poetry and a bible with a rosary wrapped around it.

He moved back to the hidden space and turned on the flashlight app on his cell phone, shining it into the darkness.

“Is it there? The ring?” Cat asked hopefully.

He leaned forward, running his hand over the inside, and then sat back on his haunches. “Nope.”

Cat glanced around the room. “Maybe she put it somewhere else.” The place was a mess.

“Looks like my father already tore the place apart looking for it.” Blood moved back to the books on the table. He flipped through the book of poetry. Her favorite poem was marked with a prayer card—the Virgin Mary. He flipped it over and back. Just a card from the church she’d used as a bookmark. He searched the margins for any scribbled message, but found none. He thumbed through the entire book, front to back, but there was nothing but her name written on the inside cover.

He slammed the book down. “Damn it.”

Cat lifted her chin. “Maybe the bible?”

Blood picked it up and unwrapped the rosary, his thumb moving over it. “She always wore this.” He shoved it in his pocket and searched the bible, but found nothing. He glanced around the house. “It’s got to be here.”

“I’ll help you look.”

They both tore the place apart, searching every nook and cranny. Cat tried to think where she, as a woman, would hide something. She looked through every food container and canister, every feminine product in the bathroom, the jar of bath salts, the dust-covered box of tampons, everywhere she could think of that a man would never look.

After an hour, darkness had fallen, and Blood lit some of the kerosene lamps. A light rain began to fall outside and quickly turned into a downpour.

“I have to go cover the boat,” Blood said as he moved toward the door.

Cat nodded and watched him go. She moved to the screen and watched as he pulled some kind of an old tarp from under the house and hauled it down to the pier. He looked big and broad-shouldered as he stood in the ghostly gray mist that rose up from the water as the cold rain fell on it. His muscles worked as he yanked and adjusted the heavy canvas tarp into place. Watching him, she knew she was safe with him, knew he was fully capable of taking care of her out here.

She sat at the table, waiting for him to return, and thought about her sister, wondering what would happen if they couldn’t reason with Black Jack.

Blood came back inside, shook the rain off, and then pulled out the chair across the table and sat. He picked up the poetry book and flipped through it again. As he did, a picture fell out.

Cat’s eyes dropped to the photograph. It was an old Polaroid of a woman standing in front of a car, a big smile on her face, holding the keys up. “Is that your mother?”

Blood nodded.

“She was very pretty.”

“Yes, she was.”

“You think the car means anything? Could it be a clue?”

Blood smirked. “If it is, we’re screwed. That was twenty years ago. That car’s long gone.”

Cat deflated. “Oh.”

He opened the book of poetry and took out the prayer card with the picture of the Virgin Mary; he sat turning it over and over in his hands, staring off into space.

Cat wasn’t sure what to do, so she waited, allowing him time to think.

After a few minutes, he moved to the doorway and slammed his palm into the frame. “Goddamn it. I was sure it’d be here.”

Cat got up and moved behind him.

“I ain’t gonna lie, Cat. It looks pretty bleak. I can’t find the ring, and I’ve got no clue where Black Jack is. He’s disappeared. Without the ring, I’ve got nothing to trade for your sister, nothing to draw Black Jack out with.”

“He’s not at the compound?”

Blood shook his head. “If he was I’d go torture him to death and make him tell me where he’s got your sister. But Big John said he left. I’ve had people watching the place. He hasn’t come back.”

“Oh.”

He moved out onto the porch to stand by the screen door, watching the rain pour down. He eyed the sky. “We’ll have to wait for the storm to pass.”

“All right.”

“You sure about that? Might mean we have to stay the night in this stinking shit hole.” He watched the sky light up with a bolt of lightning. “I hate this fucking place.”

“The swamp?”

He shook his head, the outline of his body dark in the shadows silhouetted by the steel gray sky. “This place… It’s somewhere I never wanted to see again.”

She was almost afraid to ask, but maybe Blood needed to talk about it, even if he didn’t realize it himself. And Sandman had practically sent her to help him deal with all this stuff.

She watched Blood. He was definitely on edge. All this time, he’d been the one to calm her down. Maybe now it was time for her to return the favor. “Bad memories?”

He nodded.

“Tell me.”

He stood stock still, and she wondered if he was debating it.

“Please.”

“It’s not a pretty story.”

“Maybe I can help you, maybe if you talk about it—”

“Yeah, well, we all have shit we’ve got to live with.”

“Some more than others.”

“Yeah, some a whole lot more.”

“Does it hurt to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s just…it’s my mess, you know? Mine. I deal with it. It’s like this box I carry around, packed to the brim with so much shit, when it gets opened it explodes all over everyone in the room. It’s better if it stays shut.”

“Does it scare you?”

“No. I just know it’s there. The pain, the anger, the loss… It belongs to me, no one else.”

“Share it with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to help you.”

“You can’t fix it.”

“Maybe not.”

“There’s no maybe about it.”

“It can get better.”

“Can it?” He turned to look at her then. “My mother took me and left my father. When my father found us, he brought me out here…this old fish camp out in the swamp.”

“I don’t understand… Did you live here or New Orleans?”

“My mother was from here. Her people were from here. But Black Jack wasn’t. After they were married, when she would miss her people, he would get mad, like the nice place in New Orleans wasn’t enough for her. So he bought this old place, and he would leave us out here. I think it was supposed to be some kind of punishment for her—this piece of shit shack out in the swamp. I don’t think she saw it that way.”

“The night you ran away, and he caught you, what happened?”

“He beat me with his belt for going with her. Then he left me out here for two weeks. Alone. I was eight years old.

“I lived off anything I could find in the cupboards—peanut butter and crackers, cans of beans, dry cereal. He finally came back for me. I wasn’t sure if I was happy to see him or not. I wanted to kill him. Even then. But I was too young.

“He took me back to where he’d taken my mother—a second floor room in some shotgun house in the Quarter. A lot like the one the Death Heads had me in. I remember the narrow louvered shutters and how hot the room was. When I walked in, I barely recognized her. She was on an old iron bed. In the two weeks I’d been left out in the swamp, he’d been busy.

“He’d strung her out on heroine. There were needle tracks up and down her arms. She was shaking and sweating, begging him for her next fix. It was pathetic and heartbreaking, and not something an eight-year-old boy should have to see.

“Of course, I didn’t really understand all that back then, I just thought she was sick. It was when I got older that I realized what I’d witnessed.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“That wasn’t the worst of it.”

“Oh, God. It gets worse?”

“She called my name and held her hand out to me. But he dragged me back. He wouldn’t let me near her. That’s when she asked me, ‘Remember the poem I used to read to you, Etienne? Remember the poetry book? Don’t forget it.’ I didn’t know why she was talking about a stupid poem at a time like that. Then my father really twisted the knife. He nodded to a pen and paper that was lying on the bedside table and told her to sign it.”

“What was it?”

Blood pinned her with a look. “My mother sold me to my father for a thousand dollars and a speedball. At least that’s what he told me later. I never saw her again. He told me she’d run off and abandoned me. Years later, he told me he’d heard she’d OD’d in some motel somewhere.

“He was a monster, but he was all I had. So I did what I was told.” Blood turned back to watch the rain. “You heard Big John? It’s true. My father is the biggest crime boss in New Orleans.

“I remember one day he guided me in front of a mirror, his hand fisted in my hair, and he held me there. He shook my head and said, ‘Look, boy! What do you see? That’s Jacque Boudreaux’s son.’ He took my jaw in his hand and squeezed, forcing me to look. He said, ‘I own you. You do what I damn tell you. And you don’t ever try to run again. You do, I’ll bring you back. And next time I won’t stop at a black eye and busted lip, understand? You’re mine. And what’s mine is mine until I say otherwise. You’re under my control. You’ll always be under my control. Until the day you die.’”

“I looked at him with murder in my eyes and said, ‘Or the day you die, old man.’ He laughed and said, ‘There’s the family spirit. Hate me if you want, boy, but my blood runs in your veins. You’re like me, boy. Just like me. And there’s no runnin’ from that.’ I believed him then, maybe I still do.” Blood paused and shook his head, then turned to look at her. “That’s always been my biggest fear—that I’d turn out just like him.”

“You’re not like him, Blood. You’re nothing like him.”

“Aren’t I?”

“And your mother didn’t leave you, she didn’t abandon you. He killed her.”

Blood nodded. “Yeah. And I didn’t save her, did I? Worse than that, I thought the worst of her all these years, believing she deserted me like that. And I let that way of thinking color every relationship I ever had with women. I pushed them all away, believed they had nothing I wanted or needed beyond sex, that they couldn’t be trusted, that they were all out for themselves. Everything I based that on was wrong. My mother did the best she could. I was the one who let her down, not the other way around.” He stared her in the eyes. “I’m not anybody’s fucking hero. See how fucked up I am?”

“Blood—”

“I had it all wrong, and maybe subconsciously, I even knew it. How am I ever gonna get around that fact?” He paused and looked away. “I can’t shake it, Cat.”

“You were eight years old, Blood. None of that was your fault.”

“I think deep down I knew it had never added up—all the lies my father fed me, and maybe I even thought if I helped you, if I saved your sister, somehow it’d make up for not saving my mother all those years ago.”

“I’m grateful for everything you’ve done to try to help me, Blood, but you have nothing to make up for.” She moved to him and took his face in her hands, making him look at her. She stroked over his cheeks and beard, moving her thumbs over his lips. She stared into his eyes. He looked broken and vulnerable in a way she’d never seen him before. He needed her, and that was a powerful pull for her. He’d always had that whole bad boy thing going that sucked her in. Yes, he was a badass, but he’d also been very protective of her in his own way.

She brought her mouth to his, brushing his lips softly, tenderly. She took his hand and led him to one of the bedrooms. She turned to face him, then without another word, she pulled him toward the bed. When the back of her thighs hit the mattress, he pulled back to look down at her.

“You think I want your gratitude, your pity. Is that what this is?”

She shook her head. “That’s not what this is. That’s not what this is at all.”

“You’ve seen me now. The man I am, what I come from, who my father is. I won’t ever be able to shake that.”

“I see the good in you. You’re a good man, Blood. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be here with you, no matter what promises you made to me.”

He studied her eyes carefully, searching for the truth, and then his eyes moved to the bed. “You lead, I’m gonna follow. You give, I’m gonna take. That’s just my nature, the kind of man I am.”

“I know exactly the kind of man you are.”

“And that’s good enough for you?”

She gave him the answer, slipping her hand to the back of his neck, her fingers threading into the hair at his nape as she pulled his mouth back down to hers.

He bent, cupping her thighs as he lifted and tossed her on the bed, following her down. She tore at his vest. He lifted off her long enough to pull it off and yank the t-shirt over his head.

Her eyes moved over his body, stopping on the bandage. “Your wound. We shouldn’t.”

“No stopping this now, Cat.”

He moved over her, yanking her shirt over her head in one quick movement. A moment later, her bra was gone as well. He paused, his eyes taking her in, and everything slowed down. His gaze came to hers, and they stared into one another’s eyes, seeing… really seeing each other. “I need you, Cat.”

She nodded, and her eyes slid closed as he dipped his head, his nose brushing along hers. Then he moved lower, his mouth trailing along her jaw, her throat, and down to latch on to her nipple. Her back arched, and her fingers dove into his hair, threading through the strands to grip his scalp.

He moved back over her, his mouth on her neck, and her hands slipped around him, the tips of her fingers tensing, digging in to the skin of his back as her mouth parted with a sigh.

He pulled back to look at her, his palm smoothing the hair back from her face, and she opened her eyes. “You’re beautiful. Did I ever tell you that? The first time I saw you, I thought you were an angel, come to take me to heaven.”

She smiled. “You were delirious.”

“You saved me. You’re still saving me, Cat.”

She saw the honesty in his eyes, and it moved something in her, made her catch her breath, made her heart skip a beat. When he continued to just search her face, his eyes going all over it as he brushed her hair back, she asked, “What?”

“I’m just trying to take this moment in, how good it feels. I don’t want to forget it.”

“Blood.” She didn’t know what to say to those words. He said the sweetest things when she least expected. And then his eyes darkened, filling with desire as one hand moved down to her waistband, popping the button free. A moment later she felt the heat of his palm as it slid down the front of her pants. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingertips glided over her seam with barely there strokes.

“Open for me,” he growled, his voice thick and heavy with arousal.

She did as he commanded, her thighs spreading ever so slightly, giving him the added room he needed. Still, he teased.

Her tongue came out to wet her lips as the anticipation clawed through her. She wanted his touch, craved it… balanced on the sharp edge of a precipice, waiting for it.

His eyes dropped to watch her tongue, and he lowered his head, catching her mouth, sliding his tongue inside as his fingers spread her open and began to stroke her clit in lazy circles.

She moaned deep in her throat, her hands clutching him as she let him play with her. Her hips lifted, attempting to rub against his hand, wanting more.

“You like that, baby? You like my touch?”

Her answer came out in barely a whisper. “Yes.”

“You gonna let me play? Do what I want?”

She nodded, unable to form words at the molten look in his eyes. At that moment she’d deny him nothing.

He followed along her slit again, sliding two fingers inside her. She was wet, very wet. His thumb kept up the torment on her clit while those fingers sought out that little trigger deep inside. When they found it, she couldn’t keep her head from going back.

“Bingo,” he muttered, and then she felt his mouth close over her exposed neck, latching on. She couldn’t help but thrust against his hand, which caused her breasts to bounce.

He soon gave up his hold on her throat and moved down to catch a nipple in his wet mouth, sucking hard.

That had her grasping his hair and holding him to her, moaning.

He lifted his head and looked at her, then pulled his hand out and brought two fingers up, coating her lips with her arousal, then swooping down to capture those lips with his mouth, lapping at them and growling deep in his throat.

She could feel the change in him. His whole body shifted over her, and she could feel his rock hard erection straining against the front of his jeans as he caged her in with his arms.

He devoured her mouth, until apparently that wasn’t enough. He broke off the kiss to growl in her ear, “The taste of you just makes me want more.”

His weight lifted off her. She opened her eyes, rolling her head to look at him, unsure why he was stopping. But he wasn’t. He moved to the edge of the bed, grabbed each pant leg and jerked her bottoms down and off, tossing them mindlessly to the floor. He undid his own and dropped them to the floor, the whole while, his eyes zeroed in on her pink satin and lace panties—panties, she was sure were soaked through.

Her eyes trailed down his body from his blazing eyes to his muscular arms and chest to his erection standing hard and tall.

She expected him to put it to immediate use, but apparently he had other ideas. He dragged her legs to the edge of the bed and, dropping to his knees, brought his face to that pink satin, inhaling deeply.

Their eyes connected as he curled his fingers in the fabric at her hips and drew them down her legs ever so slowly.

Cat’s hands fisted in the worn coverlet beneath her.

His palms glided back up the inside of her thighs just as slowly. Their eyes connected as he spread them wide, causing her to suck in a gasp.

“So pretty,” he murmured and then his mouth found her and her head rolled back again. He sucked and teased and slid the flat of his tongue over her in long strokes as he groaned his appreciation and approval when she writhed and arched beneath him. He tried to pin her thighs to the bed, anchoring her with his big hands, but she was having none of it, she needed to rub against his mouth and that beard of his that was driving her crazy.

Two fingers slid deep inside her, and he started up on that trigger again while his mouth tormented her clit over and over and over until she was thrashing on the bed. It was too much.

She tried to shift free of his hold, but he held her fast and tight. “No, baby girl. Want you right where you are.”

“Oh,” her mouth fell open, her breath catching and holding as he continued stroking, applying deeper pressure inside her and long strokes with his tongue to her clit until she couldn’t hold back, and she exploded into climax.

She barely had time to sink back into the mattress like a puddle of melted ice cream before his big muscled body and hot skin were over her, pinning her to the bed. One big palm closed around her inner thigh and hiked her leg up. Then that hand grasped his erection, and he teased her already swollen clit with the head in big wet circles, spreading her arousal all over him. He moved down to circle her entrance as his face hovered over hers.

“You ready for me, pretty baby?”

She nodded, beyond words. But that wasn’t good enough for him.

“I’ve been going gentle with you, holding back, but I want to hear you say it.”

“Please.”

That was apparently good enough. A second later he thrust inside her, his muscled arms tensing as he flexed his whole body, settling between her thighs.

His hand slid up the skin of her thigh, pulling her leg up farther.

“Damn, baby,” he groaned in ecstasy, his eyes falling closed. Then his jaw clenched as he began to move in a slow rhythm.

It felt like heaven, and her legs naturally wrapped around him, pulling him close and trying to urge him into a faster tempo. He was having none of it. He was determined to set the pace he wanted, although Cat could read in his face what it cost him. Was he holding back for her? Did he think she couldn’t handle anything rougher?

“Faster,” she pleaded.

He shook his head. “Gonna go slow. Gonna make this last. Gonna build you up again and watch you come all over my dick, Cat. That okay with you?”

She could only nod and squeak out, “Okay.”

He smiled. “Glad we got that cleared up. Now shut up and kiss me.”

His mouth descended on hers, his tongue sweeping inside, demanding, coaxing, tempting… He kept her guessing, alternatingly between barely-there feather-light kisses and deep and demanding ones that took all she had to give and came back for more.

The whole while he rode her with long unrelenting thrusts that built in pace slowly over time until she was literally begging him.

“Please, Blood.”

His hand moved between them, fingers brushing her clit as he lifted and changed the angle of his strokes until he was nailing her G-Spot with swipe after swipe. She was balanced on the very top of that roller coaster, about to go barreling over at rocket speed.

She clutched him, crying out his name as the powerful orgasm rolled over her.

Blood wasn’t far behind. His eyes burned into hers, like a caress, until he got closer to climax. She liked the look of strain on his face and knowing he was as desperate as she was to climax. His thrust began pounding into her and then stilled as every muscle in his body tensed rock solid, his neck tightened, and he gritted his teeth as he shook with a tremor, his release shooting into her.

“Fuck,” he growled, dropping down on top of her.

Cat’s body was limp, but she managed to wrap her arms around him, holding him to her as his face dipped to the curve of her neck, his breathing heavy, and she inhaled the scent of the sweat on his skin. Her hands stroked up and down his powerful back.

He lifted up on his elbows and brushed a soft kiss to her forehead, her eyes, her nose, and mouth. Then he pressed his forehead to hers. “You okay?”

She smiled. “I’m better than okay.”

“Good.” He pulled out and dropped to the mattress beside her. She rolled and tucked up against him, immediately missing his body heat. His one arm wrapped around her while his other hand reached down to grab her knee and drag her leg across his thighs, holding it there.

They lay in the bed listening to the rain falling on the tin roof. Cat cuddled in Blood’s arm, his hot skin pressed to hers. She reveled in the reassuring weight of his arm around her and his hand cupping the back of her knee. She couldn’t help the smile from forming on her lips as she stared at the ceiling.

Blood traced his fingers over the skin of her back absently. “Got a question.”

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“The day we escaped—you putting two holes in that Death Head—what was that about?”

She got quiet, not sure she should tell him.

“Babe?”

“I was pissed.”

“No shit.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I didn’t say that, Cat. But if there’s shit you’re not telling me, you need to do it now.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, you should. We both gotta lay all our cards on the table. Only way this works. As you’ve figured out, I’ve got trust issues.”

She looked up to catch a small grin on his face. “Will you be angry?”

He met her eyes. “I don’t know, will I?”

“Probably.” She tucked back under his arm, and his hand began stroking her hair.

“Tell me anyway.”

“When we went to the hospital, the second time…”

“Yeah. What happened?”

“When we were leaving, when I’d come back to the parking garage with the supplies…”

His hand that had been stroking her head, stilled, waiting on her words.

“He…”

“He what, Cat?”

“Tried to rape me.”

She felt every muscle in his body tense beneath her.

“Tried or did?”

“I fought him. He was so strong. He had me pinned against the concrete wall. I didn’t think I’d be able to stop him, but then a group of people came in a van and parked. He put his hand over my mouth and told me to keep quiet. I think he was going to wait for them to leave, hoping they wouldn’t see us, but then more people came, and he gave up. He dragged me back over to the bike and told me to get on.”

“He hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Just scared me.”

“You telling me everything?”

She lifted up to look at him. “Yes.”

He studied her, and his brows rose. “That look he gave you, after you came back… He was gonna try again; he was just biding his time.”

She nodded.

“I’m glad you killed the motherfucker. If you hadn’t, I would have.”

She put her head back down. “Can we not talk about it?”

“All right. But eventually, sweetheart, you’re gonna need to talk it through. I don’t want you carrying that around, letting it fester and eat at your soul. Understand?”

She nodded against his chest, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. They were quiet for a moment, his hand stroking her hair again.

“Blood?”

“Hmm?”

“What did Big John mean when he said you were trying to save Black Jack’s girls? What did you do?”

“I tried to talk them into leaving, going back home. Sometimes I gave them some money. Not much, just enough to eat or get a bus ticket home.”

“Did some leave?”

“I saved a couple.” He stroked her hair. “Most don’t want to listen.”

“But you tried.”

“Don’t go makin’ me out to be a hero. I’m not one.”

She tightened her arms around him, thinking he was hers.

Blood kissed the top of her head. “Tell me about you and your sister.”

Her fingers traced one of the tattoos on his chest. “Every girl I grew up with in that east Texas trailer park ended up married or pregnant right out of high school. My mother was an alcoholic, and my father died when I was little. If not for the old couple who owned the diner I worked at, I’d be just another knocked-up teenager going nowhere. Luckily, I had a little encouragement from the right people that there was more in life, that I deserved better, and that all I had to do was believe it. They told me a better life was there for the taking if I wanted it badly enough, and I wanted it more than anything. So, I decided I was going to get us out of that shithole trailer park. I remember telling Holly we’d move somewhere with flowers, somewhere with color, because there was no color where we lived. Everything was a dingy, depressing mud color. So, I picked New Orleans. I’d seen a picture of all the colorful buildings in the French Quarter. I thought it was beautiful, and I thought it was far enough away; I thought we’d be safe here, safe from everything we’d run from.”

“Hey.” Blood caught her chin and tilted it up so he could meet her eyes. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out that way. But you’re safe now, you hear me? And we’re gonna figure a way to get your sister back, too. I’m not gonna let that son of a bitch think he’s beaten me again.”

She nodded.

“Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up, Cat. If we’ve got to stake out the private airfield for flights coming in from Japan Friday, we’ll do it. Understand?”

She smiled, her lips quivering as her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you for not letting me do this alone.”

He nodded, put his hand to the back of her head, and pulled it down to his chest. “Get some sleep, babe.”

“Okay, Boo.”

His chest rumbled under her head. “You want to poke the bear, keep callin’ me that, sugar.”

She grinned, but kept quiet. She listened to the sound of his heart beating in her ear, closed her eyes, and let go of the worry for a few hours.

 

***

 

She woke hours later. Blood was turned on his side, sleeping. She cuddled against his back, her head in her hand, stroking his arm with her other palm and staring off into space. Then her eyes moved to him, and the realization crystalized in her brain that she was falling in love with this man, flaws and all.