Catherine squealed and did a little dance on the yacht that had apparently been named Heart of Paradise. It was cold as hell, as it was the second of November, but she knew it wouldn’t be that way for long. In a couple of days’ time, she would be resting on the bow of the ship in nothing but a bikini while hot sun baked her skin.
Cross laughed as he climbed up on the boat. “Look at you, babe.”
“I want to explore.”
“Go ahead.”
“Okay!”
Catherine darted away, but Cross’s voice quickly stopped her.
“Just … there are rooms beneath the ship that have been cleared out of stuff, and are carrying crates. Leave them be, all right?”
Catherine waved over her head as she headed down the large steps that led beneath the ship. “Got it!”
The yacht was not terribly massive. Maybe forty feet long with a nice gray finish on the outside. Plush carpeting, hardwood floors, and white leather furniture made up most of the design. Stainless steel accents colored up everything. A kitchen, wet bar, and entertainment room covered the bulk of the spot beneath.
A captain’s room sat practically right beneath the ship’s bow, and a staircase led up to the private section where the man would steer the ship. Another small cabin held bunk beds and a small closet with empty hangers inside. Probably for staff.
One other smaller, but a nicer cabin likely to be for guests. Another room was locked, and Catherine figured that was probably one of the spots Cross had mentioned. She also found a large hatch that likely led to the hull, but Catherine didn’t open it up.
The two bathrooms, one for the main section and one for the master cabin bedroom, were nicer than the one in her apartment.
Catherine tossed her small duffle bag onto the bed in the master bedroom. Gray sheets and white walls stared back at her.
Two weeks on a yacht with Cross?
No problems.
No worries.
No Dante?
Perfect.
“Miss?”
Catherine turned at the new voice, and found a man with a white jacket and matching cap standing in the doorway. He was a bit large around his middle, but quite tall, too. Gray dotted the hair behind his ears, but his brown eyes were warm.
“Hello.”
“You must be the extra passenger that was mentioned this morning.”
“Must be,” Catherine said.
“Well, I’m Van. I’m the captain for the man who owns the boat. I hope you’ll enjoy your trip.”
“I have no doubt I will.”
The man chuckled. “Have a good day, Miss.”
Catherine explored for a while longer until her search took her back up to the main deck. She leaned over the railing only to find Cross was talking to someone down on the dock.
Andino, actually.
Her cousin’s gaze caught hers.
“Catherine,” Andino called with a wave.
She gave him the middle finger.
Cross laughed. “Well, there’s that.”
“You sure taking her is a good idea?”
“I’m sure it’s none of your business as long as these guns get dropped on time, and without issue.”
Andino nodded. “Have a safe trip.”
That was that.
“Here, babe.”
Catherine took the bottle of water Cross offered to her. Twisting the cover off, she looked up at the bright, clear sky as she sipped the cold water.
“You know, as much as I like your cooking, I’m surprised there’s not staff on this boat. I mean, given the size and everything.”
Cross sat down beside her on the blanket she had spread out on the deck. “There usually is, I think. We’re working on something that is better with less people.”
“Less witnesses, you mean.”
“You got it, babe.”
She used her elbows to keep her propped up as the hot sun baked down. Her white bikini contrasted brightly against the olive tone of her skin. The Chanel sunglasses kept the sun from being too bright on her eyes.
Cross wore a pair of board shorts and aviator sunglasses.
Almost a week on the ship had taken them down to nearly their first stop. Apparently, they would be in Cancun for a short while before Cross was taking the boat out into the Gulf alone without the captain for the drop.
“When did you learn to drive a boat?”
Cross grinned at her. “That’s not the correct term.”
“No?”
“Sail for a sailboat. Skipper for a ship. Steer or helm, for lack of a better term when you’re just discussing mechanics, I suppose.”
“Isn’t skipper for captains, though?”
“Usually.”
“Okay, so steer a boat, then. You’re not the captain of any ship, are you?” Cross reached over and tickled the inside of Catherine’s thigh. She giggled and battled his hand away. “Stop that.”
“I learned when I was about twenty or so. It’s a good skill to have in this profession.”
“Being a gunrunner, you mean.”
Cross winked. “You got it.”
“Is that what you’re always going to be, though?”
His amusement faded fast. “No, not for long.”
“You’re going to take over for your dad, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
“You don’t sound sure,” she murmured.
“I’m sure,” Cross replied, “but I was never really set on it until I didn’t have much of a choice. Doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Because right now, none of that is important.”
Cross quickly rolled over onto Catherine, and forced her back to the blanket. He kissed her mouth once, twice, and then a third time, lingering longer. She didn’t mind at all, although …
“The captain is like twenty feet away in his—”
“Very distracted at the moment,” Cross promised, kissing her throat. “Getting ready to take us into port at Cancun.”
“Oh?”
Catherine swallowed hard when his fingers skimmed beneath the bottoms of her bikini.
“Very distracted, babe.”
“Jesus.”
His fingers skimmed her sex, circled her clit, and stroked her nerves awake. All she could do was tilt her head back and sigh. His talented fingers did the rest, working between fucking her pussy and toying with her clit. He continued that teasing until she was a shaking mess, gasping out his name.
Cross kissed her lax lips as the first orgasm starting fading. “There you are, my girl.”
“You’re bad.”
“It’s a gift.”
Catherine met his gaze, and smiled. “Happy birthday, Cross.”
“I never even said—”
“I always remember it,” she promised. “Even when you don’t want to.”
“You’re too good to me.”
Wrong.
He was perfect.
She was … something else entirely.
“What do you want for your birthday?” she asked. “If you could have anything in the world, Cross, what would it be?”
“You,” he said without hesitating.
Catherine stilled beneath him. “Just me?”
“Just you, with me, always. The way we’re meant to be, babe. That’s what I would want. You home with me. How we belong. Where you belong.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing else ever mattered very much to me, Catherine.”
“Ever?” she asked.
“Only you.”
“That’s what you would ask for, Cross?”
Cross pushed up to his knees, and bent down over Catherine so that their lips were only a breath apart. His dark gaze locked onto hers, and held strong. “There’s no would. I am asking for it. You and me. Be with me. The way we belong.”
“Always,” she whispered.
“Always.”
“What are you doing over there?”
Cross rested against a leaning wicker chair, and watched Catherine swing in the hammock. “Enjoying the view.”
“It’s a good view?”
“The best,” he replied with a wink.
He was only looking at her.
She let her arm fall out of the hammock, and let her hand drag through the sand as she swung back and forth. The beach was quiet and tranquil. The large trees kept her shaded and relatively cool. Cross kept her breathless and happy.
“So, tomorrow …”
Catherine looked up at Cross again. “What about it?”
“You could stay here on the beach, if you want. I could get you a room, or whatever.”
“I thought you said I could go out with you for the drop.”
“You can,” he assured. “I just wanted to make sure that’s still what you want to do, babe.”
“Being here would be boring without you.”
Cross smiled. “Oh?”
“Very.”
He crossed the small space between them, and his bare feet left footprints in the sand. As soon as he was close enough for her to reach, she grabbed his arms and pulled hard. He barely caught himself before falling into the hammock with her.
The hammock rocked dangerously from the action. Somehow, Cross managed to keep it from tipping over and dumping them out.
Cross slid in beside Catherine, and she rolled over to rest her arms on his bare chest. She used her arms as a pillow. The sensation of his fingers dragging through the strands of her hair was enough to put her to sleep.
“This was good for you, right?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Taking time away from life. Being here, and on the boat. Just … away.”
“Sure.”
“That’s not a very good answer, Catty.”
She sighed, and propped her chin up on her arms so that she could look at him. His handsome face had darkened slightly under the sun over the past days. She imagined hers had as well.
“It’s all good,” she promised, “but it’s best because I’m here with you.”
“I thought you were still figuring shit out?”
“There’s not a whole lot to figure out with us.”
“No?”
“Not when it’s really quite simple.”
He loved her.
She loved him.
The rest was nothing more than details.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “I want you to make sure you stay out of sight. The drop is just on the outside rim of the Gulf. They’re meeting up with me on another ship. I was told it should be about the same size as the yacht we came in on.”
“Have you ever run guns for this person before?”
“A couple of times, but from a different source.”
“Chicago?”
Cross chuckled. “Yeah, Chicago.”
“So, you know the people?”
“Well, it’s usually been the same men with an occasional change of one or two, but yeah. Basically, the same group of men pick up the drop for the buyer.”
“I could stay in the master bedroom of the yacht, right?”
Cross nodded. “Sure. They’ve got no reason to be in there once the one room is cleaned out. The rest of the guns were dropped down into the hull, so that’ll be a while to get them all out and everything.”
“How long?”
“A few hours.”
“Huh.”
“You can still stay here … on the beach, whatever.”
Catherine shook her head. “I came here with you. I’m staying with you.”
“All right,” he murmured.
“Cross?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I lied about something.”
He stiffened under her. “About what?”
Catherine peered out over the beach. “I didn’t actually tell my dad I was going out of country, or that I was leaving at all.”
Cross sucked air through his teeth. “So, you definitely didn’t tell him you were going with me, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I didn’t want to fight with him,” she admitted.
“Making another reason to fight is not a good way to avoid a fight, Catherine.”
“I just wanted time with you without … all the rest.”
“Well, you got that.”
“Yeah.”
Cross frowned. “Why did you tell me this now?”
“I turned my phone on today.”
“And?”
“Listened to my messages.”
“And?”
Catherine made a face. “He’s figured out I’m gone.”
“Obviously. Why turn off your phone?”
“I didn’t want to have to lie.”
“Catherine.”
“I’ll deal with it all when I get back,” she said in a sigh. “I will. Everything. I promise.”
“Did the messages say anything else?”
“He knows I’m with you.”
“Great.”
“And I think he knows you’re working.”
Cross’s jaw tightened. “Perfect.”
“Could we stay here instead of going back?”
“Catty.”
“I’m joking,” she muttered.
“I know, but this isn’t forever and real life is waiting.”
“Yeah, well, real life blows.”
“Sometimes,” he agreed. “Don’t ever lie to me again.”
Catherine’s gaze darted to Cross. “I didn’t—”
“You did. And don’t. Not even by omission, Catherine.”
“It’s easier sometimes.”
“I didn’t ask for easy. I asked for you.”
Catherine peered out of the master bedroom’s cabin door. She had listened for what felt like hours as people outside the bedroom worked. She heard Cross talk to men, and several voices talk back. She even heard the unknown men speak in a language she didn’t understand.
Cross had warned it was going to take a long time to move the guns from one ship to the other, and he had been right. She didn’t quite realize how long, though.
Eventually, the noise quieted, and the footsteps stopped echoing outside her door. Once it had been quiet for a while, she decided to peek out the door and check the hall that led to the lower section of the ship.
Nothing was there.
No one stood waiting.
Catherine could hear footsteps up above her head—more than one set—so she quickly closed the door and moved back to the bed. Grabbing her iPod from her bag, she rested back and shoved the earbuds in.
Cross would come get her once they were in the clear. That’s what he said.
Turning the tunes up a bit louder, Catherine closed her eyes and tried to relax. She hated being bored; it always led her to bad situations.
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that. Long enough for her playlist to shuffle through the songs once, and then start over again.
When a hand touched her arm, Catherine’s gaze opened instantly. She hadn’t reacted in fear only because she assumed the person touching her would be Cross coming to let her know he was done.
She was wrong.
A blue-eyed, dark-haired man stood above her. His pale skin was reddened from the sun, and his mouth pulled into a smirk at the sight of Catherine’s widening gaze.
She didn’t know what the fuck this man was doing, who he was, or why he was in her room. He shouldn’t be in there at all. For safety reasons, the doors couldn’t be locked on the bedrooms. Yet, Catherine had distinctly heard Cross explain where the guns were stashed when the men came into the lower section of the yacht.
This man shouldn’t be here.
Catherine didn’t even have time to react. The second she opened her mouth to scream, the blue-eyed man’s hand covered her mouth. Instantly, he was on the bed with her, a hand going to her throat as she trashed and bucked against his weight falling on hers.
Her earbuds came out of her ears in the struggle, and she heard his accented voice warning her.
“Stop fighting, girl,” he hissed. “Your friend is on our boat. No one is coming to help.”
“Fuck you,” Catherine mumbled beneath his hand. “Get off me!”
It was hard to talk with a hand on her mouth, and another choking her throat. He only let go of her throat long enough to pry her legs apart and force her dress up.
Catherine’s memories flashed with things she had never been able to forget—assaults by men who did not listen when she said no. Once, she had been unable to fight back at all. Another time, she froze because her shock and memories had been too much to bear.
Not this time.
She kicked, clawed, and tried to scream despite the hand on her mouth. She drew blood in her effort to fight back, although the man didn’t seem all too bothered by her struggle. In fact, he laughed at her.
She swore all rapists were the same.
Fucking monsters.
There was no gray area.
“Pretty, pretty,” he taunted. “We don’t get very many pretty girls around when we’re working for the boss. Your friend should have known better than to bring a piece of ass onto the boat with him. Just a little taste …”
He ripped her panties as he tried yanking them off her body. The fabric bit into her skin and stung like hell from the force. His fingers digging into her inner thigh likely left bruises as he kept them forced apart.
Catherine bit the asshole’s hand still covering her mouth. The guy pulled back with a shout, but quickly slapped her with the same hand. Still, his grip had loosened.
She used that to her advantage. The small wiggle room he allowed her was enough. Catherine’s hand snuck to the side as the guy started shoving his board shorts down enough to get his dick in his hand. Her fingers slipped into her bag as she felt him pressing between her thighs. He didn’t see the switch blade coming.
Catherine shoved the blade of her favorite knife as deep into the side of the man’s throat as she could get it. Just as fast, she pulled the blade out. Blood arched across the room in the spray it created. It dotted the wall, the bed, and her.
“Fuck you,” Catherine repeated, staring into wide, terrified eyes.
She bet that’s exactly how she had looked just moments before.
It looked far better on him.
Instantly, his hold on her released, and she felt his hand and cock between her thighs disappear as he grabbed for the wound in his neck. Falling to his side on the bed, his stab wound bled through his fingers, pumping red ribbons in heavy, thick lines. At least he had rolled over on the bed so that his blood was spilling right onto the sheets and mattresses. He opened his mouth to speak, but gurgles and blood came out instead.
Catherine slipped off the bed with the bloody blade still in her hand. She watched his crazed eyes follow her as she moved toward the door. It was an odd sight, him bleeding out and his breaths rattling with bubbles of blood and missed air.
Morbid, even.
Still, she felt nothing.
Even her fingertips were numb.
She walked backward slowly, still keeping one eye on the fucker across from her. A hand touching her back made Catherine turn fast with her knife ready to kill.
Cross instantly took a huge step back and tossed his hands up in the air. “Hey, it’s all right, babe. It’s me. It’s okay.”
Catherine realized then that her hands were shaking and tears streaked down her cheeks. “I … I …”
Why couldn’t she talk?
Why wouldn’t her words form?
Cross stepped closer, and wiped at her cheeks with his thumbs. She felt the blood smear from his actions as he looked her over. “We don’t have very long, okay?”
Catherine nodded.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I was listening to music. He came in.”
Cross looked over her shoulder as one last, loud breath rattled from inside the room followed by a perversely loud gurgle. Catherine held onto Cross’s wrists, and the blood from her knife smeared down his arm. She knew what he was seeing. Messed sheets. Her ruined panties on the bed. The guy’s lower half bared from his shorts being shoved down.
“Did he—”
“I stopped him before he could,” she interjected quickly.
“All right, so right now, we need to move fast,” Cross murmured.
“Why?”
“Because his friends are on upper deck right now. Or at least one is. The other two were on the other boat. Someone is going to start looking for him, and that’s going to be very bad for us.”
“I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry. I messed up, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t do anything, babe. I promise.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Hide,” Cross whispered.
Catherine glanced up at him. “What?”
“I need you to hide.”