Chapter Six
Flames were engulfing Ailish’s body. Impossible, right? It seemed impossible when he’d only put his tongue in her belly button. But God…God. There was an electric current underneath that tiny hollow corresponding to the female flesh between her legs. The first drive of his tongue had elicited arousal that usually took Ailish ten minutes to achieve. It felt like the beginnings of an orgasm. Her stomach tightened like a fist; the insides of her thighs quivered. More, she wanted more.
But this was her opportunity to get away. She’d more or less orchestrated this moment. Or at least, she’d planned to get Henrik distracted so she could make her move. Now, though? Now—
Henrik pushed his tongue into her belly button again, a slow slide of wet pressure that sent liquid to the juncture of her thighs. In preparation for a man. The harder he pushed, the more gravity built at her center. Ailish’s fingers dug into the bedspread, twisting the rough material. “Oh my God. What are you d-doing?”
He shushed against the soft skin above her panty line before scooping two hands beneath Ailish’s body to cradle her bottom, massaging both sides in tandem. “The only thing that matters,” he grated, running his tongue around her navel, “is it’s getting your pussy wet as fuck. I can feel the wet against my chest. Making me want to yank down these panties and give you my dick. What matters, baby, is you want more.”
It hadn’t been a question, but she answered anyway, her brain scrambling to remember the plan. The plan, Ailish. “Yes, I want more.”
She did, too. Maybe more than getting away. And that realization is what jolted Ailish. Henrik looked so massive, so sexy, covering the bottom half of her body. A formidable male packed with shifting muscles. His hands were spread on her skin, the tips digging into her flesh and creating indentations. Their desperation felt equal. Heavy and immediate. They were in this together.
No. No…she needed to separate herself.
Henrik flexed one of his pectoral muscles and it ground against her core, hardness against soft. Hearing her own scream, Ailish slapped a hand over her mouth. Oh Lord, she’d never experienced a buildup like this on her way to an orgasm. What would it feel like? If it felt anything like the lead-up, she would implode. Henrik moved his chest muscles in tight up-and-down movements between her legs, his tongue making repeated advances into her belly button. Each stab into that shallow valley made her vision grow bleary, turned up the intensity of her stomach’s quickening.
“Oh. Oh. You have to stop. It…I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
His only response was a tighter grip on her bottom, his thumbs digging into the underside in what resulted in—shocker—another newly discovered erogenous zone. Arousal rushed in from all sides, like a car sinking into a river with all four windows open. It scared her. Shame followed that mental confession. After being such a tease, she couldn’t even handle the tables being flipped.
Henrik’s teeth sank into her hip. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen.” His lips skimmed their way back to the center of her belly, starting those torturous drives into the hollow once more. “You’re going to get off while I fuck the bed, pretending I’m giving it to you doggy-style. And between now and the next time we touch, baby? You’re going to wonder what I can do when I actually let myself attack that pussy. That’s what’s going to happen.”
His blunt speech made her nipples tighten, sent her heels burrowing into the bed. So close. So close. But worry held her body back. Henrik would own her afterward. Ailish could sense it. She couldn’t allow him to overwhelm her like this—to know he could do it whenever a situation arose where she needed placating. He’d lied to her. His intentions weren’t clear. If she dropped her guard too much, she could end up imprisoned again, whether it be with her father or the police.
Dammit, this is going to hurt.
Ailish kept her attention trained on Henrik as she slipped a hand across the bed to feel around beneath her pillow. Cool metal greeted her knuckles, and she turned her hand over to grip the gun. Her resolve wavered when Henrik laid a kiss on the white material of her panties, pulling at the waistband with his teeth. If she just lay back, she would hit her climax in seconds. A climax she craved. But the fear of returning to Chicago, the possibility of a future planned by others, propelled her into action.
In one fluid motion, Ailish pulled the gun from beneath her pillow and pointed it at Henrik. With the opposite elbow, she scooted back on the bed to get outside of reaching distance. An ex-cop—especially one as large as Henrik—would be well capable of disarming her, and then the real trouble would begin. “Don’t move,” she said, sounding embarrassingly out of breath.
Still poised on his stomach, Henrik watched her through narrowed eyes. “Ailish, put the gun down. Now.”
Was there a please in there? She knew better than to ask that out loud—and it made her throat ache at the reminder of their running joke. How many people could you have a running joke with in less than twenty-four hours? Probably not many, but speculation did her no good, since she’d already pointed a gun at him. For the second time. Very slowly, Ailish placed one foot on the floor, then the other, careful to keep the gun lifted and level. “I have to go now, Henrik. Just let me—” He pushed off the bed and stood at his full height, which muddled her thoughts for a beat. “I’m not going back to Chicago. Just let me leave.”
They were facing off across the bed, but Henrik took a few steps toward the end, as if he would round the furniture in her direction.
“Stop,” she ordered, wishing away the panic in her voice. “You didn’t learn anything from the first time I shot you?”
“The first time was an accident.” His tone was forged in steel, but did she detect a note of…hurt? “You don’t want to run from me. I’m here to keep you safe. Just let me do that. Please.”
His please made her hand droop, just a little, before she jerked the weapon back up. “That’s exactly what I would say to someone I wanted to keep in line. I have a lot of experience being spoken to like that, you know? Twenty-one years.” She retreated a step when he took one forward, sand granules shifting in her belly. “You know, I got caught on purpose. By the police. I wanted to go to prison.”
Henrik became a statue, his mouth the only part of him that moved. “What did you say?”
Good question. She’d never told anyone. Had barely acknowledged it to herself. But there was something intimate and permissive about holding a gun on the man who’d just had his mouth all over you. And nothing would stay behind the dam anymore, truth needing to flow. Be gone. “I gave the police what they needed to put me away. I couldn’t be a witness anymore to my father’s actions. Every day, I felt sick. Even prison was better than my father’s house. But they just let me go. I still don’t understand it. I needed that chance to atone.” It felt incredible, letting go of her misery. She’d kept it inside so long. “I was trading one cell for another, but I never thought I’d be free. I am, though. I’m going to make up for my wrongs by being a good person. Someone who’s nothing like my father. And if there’s even a chance you’ll take me back to a cell, I have to get away from you. It’s…it’s nothing personal.”
He finally shook himself out of his eerily still state. “It’s been personal since I walked in here last night. Like it or not.” His gaze raked down her body, snagging on her bare thighs. “You just had your ankle hooked around my neck. Was that an act?”
“No,” Ailish answered without hesitation. “I like you, Growler. I wish you hadn’t lied to me, because now I have to question everything you’ve said.”
His expression reminded her of an athlete who’d just lost a game at the buzzer. “I didn’t want you to know I’d been kicked off the force.”
“Why not?”
He moved a few steps closer, his big barrel chest heaving in and out. “Because I like you, too, baby.”
Ailish wanted to shout at her heart for having the nerve to lift, at her gun hand for starting to tremble. How could she feel anything but nerves? She was running out of space, and she was on the wrong side of the bed. They needed to reverse sides if she wanted to make it to the door. Only she could barely see the door around Henrik’s wide shoulders, his tight jaw.
Loathing the whimper that passed her lips, Ailish cocked the gun. “Stop coming toward me or I’ll shoot you.”
“No, you won’t,” Henrik murmured. “You know you can trust me, even though I fucked up. You can feel it.”
Irritation blindsided her. “Kind of like I should be able to trust my own father, right?” She swallowed hard and climbed onto the bed, sidestepping her way across the pillows. “I don’t know what trust is—I only know what I was taught to think. Maybe someday I’ll understand what trust means, but I won’t be able to learn anything if someone puts me in a cell. Or returns me to my father for good.”
Rage slashed over his features and for a second, Ailish thought he might dive onto the bed to retrieve her. “I’d never let either of those things happen.”
“Why? Why do you care so much? You barely know me.” The gun was getting too heavy. She had to get away soon or her arm would drop. But it was suddenly imperative that she learn the answer to her question. It had been nagging at her since last night, and she’d only just acknowledged it. “This is just your job. I’m a job to you.” She nodded once. “Right?”
His stare penetrated, reached inside and rearranged vital parts. “Ailish—”
The cabin door burst open.
A gun was leveled at Ailish.
“NO,” Henrik roared. “NO!”
...
When Henrik was nine, his older sister Danielle took him to a carnival. As a preteen, she’d wanted nothing more than to gossip with her friends, and looking after Henrik had seriously cramped her style. Sick of listening to the girls talk about girl things—and tired of feeling like a burden—Henrik went off by himself, buying his way into the haunted house with his last ride ticket. He’d found nothing about it scary, even recognizing a few of the zombies from around the neighborhood. But there’d been this one bloodcurdling scream that had stuck with him. The recorded sound had swooped down on him as he exited the haunted house—and after hearing it only once, he could recall it perfectly.
His family believed he’d joined the force to follow in the footsteps of his father, a retired Chicago cop, but that wasn’t 100 percent true. Something about fear itself made him uncomfortable. Henrik rarely experienced the emotion himself, but he hated seeing it on other people’s faces. Or hearing it in their voice. To him, being a cop meant preventing and alleviating fear. That goal had always been general, not focused on any one person, until Ailish. She’d sucked every ounce of that driving force and commanded it for herself, without even realizing it.
She’d hidden it as best she could, but her terror had shown through in that interrogation room. Although he hadn’t been working the case, he’d talked his way onto the opposite side of the two-way mirror. He’d wanted to tear the roof off the precinct every time they were aggressive toward Ailish. Instead, he’d come back later that night and used a stolen code to break into the evidence locker.
That haunted house scream from Henrik’s memory sliced through his head now, deafening him until he could only hear a distant ringing. He was back in that makeshift carnival ride, the ground tilting beneath his feet, the air sticky with sugar. Ailish’s expression went from curiosity to dread, making waves crash into the sides of his brain. Gun. Gun pointed at Ailish who liked him but couldn’t believe him and he was already losing her and no, no, no, please don’t let this be happening.
Time sped up again as Henrik launched himself across the bed and dragged Ailish beneath his body. Muscle memory had him pinning the wrist holding the gun, but his mind zeroed in on her. Breathing. Okay, she was breathing. And moving. Alive. She was alive.
“Erin,” Henrik shouted over his shoulder. “Put the goddamn gun down.”
He watched as his blond teammate mimicked his order in a false man voice before holstering the weapon inside her jacket. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but she had a gun pointed at you first. I thought I was saving the day, as usual.”
Connor stepped into the doorway behind his girlfriend. “What the fuck.”
Erin leaned back against Connor. “Sorry, baby. I couldn’t wait for you to come back from the bathroom. Mafia Princess Runaway here was going to put holes in Henrik. Now they’re just cuddling, though, which is nice.” She reached up and scratched his beard without looking. “That’s where we’re at.”
Connor grunted and entered the room, his sharp gaze running over everything in the space of seconds. The ex-SEAL raised an eyebrow at Henrik and Ailish’s position on the bed, reminding Henrik he was probably crushing Ailish. Or maybe not, since her fingers were drawing circles on the side of his neck.
“Are you okay?” Henrik asked Ailish.
She nodded. “Are you?”
Good God, this girl was confusing. Until a minute ago, she’d been pointing a gun at him. Now she was asking after his well-being? “I’ve been better.”
“Right.” She wet her lips. “I’m not going anywhere now, am I?”
“I really don’t want you to.”
Ailish cast a sidelong glance at Connor and Erin, the latter of whom was perched on the dresser, hand cupped around her ear, making no attempt to disguise her eavesdropping. “I guess you better introduce me to your friends, then.”
Hating the resignation in her voice, Henrik allowed Ailish to scoot out from beneath him. She stood, smoothed her skirt, and held out a hand to Erin. “I’m Ailish. It’s nice to meet you. I forgive you for pointing a gun at me, since you were just trying to protect Henrik.” She heaved a sigh. “I wouldn’t really have shot him. Are you going to shake my hand?”
Erin looked slightly pale. “I’m working up to it.”
Not wanting Ailish’s feelings hurt, Henrik bent down to whisper in her ear that Erin had difficulty being touched due to a past trauma, but Ailish surprised him by giving Erin a firm nod. “Okay. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Erin muttered, scrutinizing Ailish with increased interest.
Connor stepped forward and shook Ailish’s hand. “Connor.”
Erin hopped off the dresser. “He’s my—”
“Boyfriend,” Connor finished for Erin, amusement flaring in his stoic face. “I’m her boyfriend. Sorry we gave you a scare.”
Ailish’s answering smile would have knocked the wind out of Henrik if he had any wind left. “Oh, you’re a couple. How nice.”
Needing some form of contact with Ailish, Henrik laid a hand on her hip, relieved as hell when she didn’t step away. But that relief did nothing to keep him from reeling. She’d been arrested on purpose. Had wanted to serve prison time, in order to ease guilt she likely didn’t need to feel. And he’d been the one to set her free. How would she react if she knew?
“What are you doing here?” he asked Connor and Erin, ignoring Ailish’s disapproving look. Right now he needed to be distracted from images of her getting hit by a damn bullet. And the fact that she’d been in the process of leaving when Erin and Connor showed up. Knowing he could have tracked her down or followed was of little comfort when men were out there looking for her.
Before the door had burst open, he’d been on the verge of telling Ailish everything. How he’d destroyed the evidence, how he’d been unable to cope with the idea of her in prison. So yeah, he also needed a distraction from the possibility that after he confessed everything…she still would have left.
Connor gave him a look rife with meaning. “Talk to you outside?”
Fuck. He’d known something was wrong. “Yeah.”
Ailish drew his attention by laying a hand on his forearm. “I—thank you. For trying to protect me.” She stared at the bed behind him. “I’ve gone my whole life without having a gun pointed at me, then it happens twice within the space of a week.”
He tilted her chin up with a finger. “It won’t happen again as long as I’m around, Ailish.”
“I don’t think that will be for long,” she murmured.
His brows drew together. “Why do you say that?”
Her eyes cleared, as if she’d broken free of a trance. “If Connor and Erin just wanted to talk, they could have called your cell.” She glanced at Erin, who was shuffling her boots in the doorway. “You’re here to take his place, aren’t you?”
“Guys.” Erin divided a look between Connor and Henrik. “Let’s keep her.”
God, I want to. Ailish’s intuition and his teammates’ lack of denial sent a prickle up the back of Henrik’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere without her.”
“You’ll want to hear me out first,” Connor said.
Henrik ground his teeth together and started toward the porch, but Ailish kept a hold of his elbow, drawing him up short. “Have your talk in front of me.”
Erin let out a low whistle in the doorway, turning Ailish’s cheeks pink. When she stepped close to him and dropped her voice, it took a massive strength of will not to back her into the bathroom and kick the door shut behind them. Just to have her to himself. “You can fix the…gap between us right now by not leaving me in the dark. I’ve been in the dark a long time and I-I resent it. Don’t make me resent you, too.”
“Ailish.” Henrik tipped his head forward and breathed. Shit. She didn’t know what she asked of him. This could repair the trust issue he’d created between them, or it could make an even bigger one. Depending on what Connor had to tell him, his involvement with her release from custody could come barking right into the open. With her safety at stake, he couldn’t risk her panicking, thinking he had a fucking screw loose, and taking off. Or resenting him even more for taking away the decision she’d made for herself.
Hell, maybe he did have a screw loose, because half of him was tempted to reveal everything and let the chips fall where they may. Unacceptable when lives were at stake in Chicago the longer Caine O’Kelly was a free man.
“You ready, man?” Connor prompted from the door.
Henrik let his hand drop from Ailish’s hip. “I’m sorry.”
He strode away, but not before seeing the disappointment break out across her pretty features. Swallowing the guilt, he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. “What’s up?”
“Oh, a few things.” Connor held up a finger. “One, Caine O’Kelly has been calling in all debts. Every one of his regulars from the south side to North Park has been paid a visit, O’Kelly looking to get what’s owed to him. Four bodies have turned up since yesterday morning, all with ties to the O’Kelly gambling ring.”
“The ones who couldn’t pay up.”
“Verdict is still out, but that’s the idea.” Connor shook his head. “This kind of behavior is unusual, even for O’Kelly.”
Henrik felt sick. “The increase in violence is connected to Ailish disappearing, isn’t it?”
Connor regarded him a moment, as if he didn’t want to deliver the remaining news. “It would stand to reason, considering he just issued a reward for knowledge of her whereabouts. A fucking big one.”
“Jesus.” Henrik’s impulse was to reenter the cabin, gather Ailish up and find somewhere less exposed, somewhere not even his teammates could find them. But he’d just snapped what little bond he’d built between them in two, hadn’t he? “We need to move her soon. If he’s that desperate to find her, it’s only a matter of time.” When Connor said nothing, Henrik stared out over the courtyard. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Yeah. Enough that Derek didn’t think we should lay it all on you over the phone.” The ex-SEAL cleared his throat. “Look, Caine has approached two officers, separately, since Ailish split. Asking about his daughter, why no charges were filed. It’s likely Caine thinks she cut a deal with the police.”
Henrik closed his eyes and focused on breathing in and out. “So that reward he’s offering…it could very well be a bounty. On his own daughter.”
“Possibly.” For a moment, they remained silent until the ex-SEAL spoke up again. “When Caine approached those officers, he asked about you specifically, man.”
“Me?” Henrik’s mind landed on the only possible reason. “The department kept my involvement quiet, but not quiet enough to keep it from Caine. Maybe he already has a friend on the force.”
“Money talks louder than honor.”
“Yeah.” Henrik turned and braced his hands against the wooden railing. “Or maybe we’re wrong about Caine hunting Ailish. If he’s got a cop in his pocket, he could already know I destroyed the evidence against his daughter.” Henrik laughed without humor. “Maybe he wants to offer me a job.”
Beside him, Connor leaned against the railing. “Either way, we need to know. Derek wants you and Caine in the same room. That’s why me and Erin are here.”
Henrik pushed off the rail and started to pace. Goddammit. Ailish had been right. They wanted him to leave her. Already, the idea of driving away and leaving her behind made his skin feel too tight. “No, I need to be here.”
“One night, man. You know Erin and I won’t let anything happen to her.”
He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to consider leaving. “Even if I agree, how the hell am I supposed to get into a room with O’Kelly?”
Connor gave him a meaningful look. “I think you know.”
At Henrik’s sides, his hands flexed into fists.