I CHECKED THE GPS AND headed toward Islamorada. “Talk to me, chica.”
“Why are we going south to get to Miami?” She stared out at the water.
“I can’t get out to the Atlantic from Neil’s place. Quickest way is south. In ten miles, I can cut east to the ocean.”
She made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything else.
I hit open waters where I knew we were far enough to be out of sniper range then I took on speed.
I wasn’t fucking happy about the plan, but I had to admit if she was a client, I would’ve considered it. It made sense. I had an armored vehicle. Tyler was doing recon. Even if there were a hundred armed men on that asshole’s compound, Neil, Talon and I had faced way worse odds downrange. We knew tactical, we could fucking handle ourselves.
The only thing I’d do different for a client was handle the recon myself. But Tyler was skilled, and he’d have what I’d need in a few hours. He’d also said both he and Collins were in tomorrow. It was nothing short of what I’d do for them, for any of my men, but I’d never ask, not for something like this. Tyler said he and Collins would go in before us and be our eyes. He was almost as good a shot behind a sniper rifle as me, and Collins was a fucking chameleon in any kind of terrain. If something was up, or our approach was compromised, I was confident they’d handle it.
The only part of the plan I was fixating on was what she’d said about Stephens. I didn’t see him taking the offer without a hitch. Cult leaders didn’t breed a following without being manipulative as hell, but my instincts were betting that plot was more than a damn acre of marijuana. Until I heard from Tyler, I wouldn’t know, but I was hoping to God there was something buried out there Stephens didn’t want found.
I glanced at Kendall as I started to cut east.
Damn.
My heart fucking skipped and it was as if I were seeing her for the first time again. Hazel eyes every color of the earth, silky hair, and a body with curves that made my knees weak, she was fucking beautiful. But it was the air around her that took my breath. She wasn’t just a woman, she was a storm of fury and determination. The second I’d pulled her out of that biker bar, she’d pivoted my fucking axis.
I wanted my world to be hers. I wanted to take her on a fucking boat ride where open waters didn’t mean we were running. I wanted to watch her like she sat now, with the wind kicking at her hair, and her legs curled under her, but I wanted her silence to mean contentment, not uneasiness.
“Do me a favor and grab those sandwiches out of the cooler?” I was starving, and she hadn’t eaten either, but more she needed something to take her mind off this shit.
Without a word, she unfolded her legs and went for the cooler barefoot. Not gonna lie, she was sexy as hell in nothing but her dress and red-painted toenails. But her silence was fucking killing me.
She put a bottle of water in my cup holder then set a sandwich on my lap.
“Hey.” I set the sandwich down and grabbed her hand. “Wanna tell me what you’re thinking?”
She looked down at our joined hands. “Nothing.”
I didn’t call her out on her lie. I pulled her to my lap. “You ever driven a boat?”
She perched on one of my knees like she was about to bolt. “No.”
I put her hands on the wheel and took mine off. “Head due south.” I pointed at the GPS. “You can go faster.” I showed her how to increase the speed. “Or slower if you want a smoother ride.” I slowed us down, then I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her all the way back on to my lap. “You’re in charge.” I kissed her neck.
She gave the boat more speed. “I wasn’t in charge when you decided to arm River.”
I stilled, then I grabbed the sandwich. “No, you weren’t.” I unwrapped a half for her. “Eat.”
“I’m driving,” she said stubbornly.
I held the sandwich to her mouth. “Take a bite. I know you’re hungry.”
She turned her head slightly. “What is it?”
I took a bite and swallowed. “Meat, bread, it’s comida.” No clue beyond that. “It’s the food we have.” I held it back to her mouth.
She took a small-ass bite.
I wolfed down another bite then held the sandwich back to her. “You like driving?”
“Yes.” Both of her hands on the wheel, her arms locked, she looked half-terrified, and half-determined not to fuck up. It was cute as hell.
“You’re doing great.” I took another bite.
“It’s open waters, how can I fuck up? It’s not like there’s anything to hit out here.”
I chuckled and held the sandwich for her to take another bite. “You’d be surprised, chica. Just don’t hit a shark.”
“Are you trying to scare me?” She took a bigger bite this time.
“Would I do that?” I smiled and kissed her cheek.
“Yes.”
I sobered. “Only if I needed to.” Like scaring her off her fucking mission to make Stephens pay up.
She changed the subject. “You’re making a mistake arming River.”
Mierda. I pulled the throttle and stopped the boat.
She took her hands off the helm.
“Chica.” I spun her in my lap so I could see her eyes. “I have no intention of leaving Stephens with sixty crates of AK-47s. But if that’s what I have to do, then I’m fucking doing it.”
“You know what he can do with that amount of firepower?” Her voice got small. “I’m not worth it.”
My jaw ticked. “First, don’t fucking piss me off with bullshit about your self-worth. Second, don’t underestimate me.” I knew exactly what Stephens was capable of. Recruit, terrorize and build an army of prisoners too afraid to do anything except kill for him. It may not be immediately, but I’d get the fucking weapons back. At a minimum, Neil would call his contact in the ATF.
“How can I underestimate you? I don’t even know you.”
Cristo. “You wanna have my kid but you don’t trust me?”
“Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting shit. You either trust me, or you don’t. Trusting me to make a kid, be a father? That’s no different than trusting me to save your life, or do the right fucking thing.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m not questioning your moral compass.”
Now I was getting pissed off. “What’s the difference? Trust is trust.” I was in the middle of the fucking Gulf of Mexico with her.
“Fine.” She pushed off my lap. “I’m questioning you and your trust and your sanity while I’m at it. I’m questioning what kind of person thinks giving a violent cult leader sixty cases of guns is a good idea. I’m questioning why you’re even here.” Her voice ramped up. “And I’m questioning why the hell someone like you would even want someone like me.” Anger and fear contorted her features right before she spun and kicked the cooler across the boat. “I’m not worth it!”
Fuck this.
I stood and wrapped my arms around her from behind.
Her whole body stiffened, then she stomped her foot and tried to break free, but she didn’t fucking kick me. “No!”
“Yes.” I held her tighter.
“I don’t want your goddamn comfort or sympathy!” She pulled her arms up then slammed them down on mine, trying to break my hold. “I want fucking answers,” she roared.
I didn’t have answers.
I had reality. And I had the fucking truth.
I gripped a handful of her hair and pulled as I spun her by the hip. “You want answers?”
Tears in her eyes, anger in the set of her jaw, she spat fire at me. “Fuck you.”
I slammed my mouth over hers and unbuckled my jeans. She reacted exactly how I knew she would. She didn’t fucking push me away. She opened her mouth. Teeth gnashing, tongues thrusting, she kissed me as hard as I kissed her. I freed my dick then I reached under her dress and gripped her underwear, yanking the soaked lace down her thighs. She kicked the material off her legs then wrapped her thighs around my waist.
Growling, bracing my legs against the sway of the boat, I lifted her ass to the seat behind the wheel and shoved into her.
I sank to the hilt.
Her gasp, her tight little cunt, her soft body in my arms… Jesucristo, I almost came. My heart fucking took off running, but my head went quiet with a thousand reasons of rightness.
I stroked once. Twice. “You feel that, chica?”
She held me tighter, but she didn’t answer.
Gripping her ass, I pulled her into me as I thrust deep, then I stilled. “You feel me inside you?”
A tear slid down her cheek.
I didn’t wipe it away as my dick pulsed inside the only home it wanted. “I know you feel that. This is where I belong.” I pulsed again, and her sweet pussy contracted around me. “This is where you belong.” I kissed her neck.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered.
“Don’t show you the truth?” Dios mio, how could she not fucking know? “Don’t give you the answer?” I was bareback inside her, fighting not to permanently mark her as mine. “This isn’t a test run, chica.” I grasped her chin and forced her to look at me. “And this isn’t fucking.” I slowly pulled back and watched her face as I sank in torturously slow.
Her lips parted, her lungs drew air, and her eyes fluttered half closed.
“You and me?” I whispered against her sweet lips. “We’re real.”
“Make love to me,” she pleaded, arching into me.
“I’m gonna. Every day of every week. With my words, with my body, I’m gonna show you what you do to me until you give me more than your doubt.” I wasn’t walking away from this woman. I couldn’t. I was every kind of fool, but I didn’t give a single fuck. She’d owned me since I’d first met her.
“André.” My name crawled up her throat and coated her tongue.
I circled my thumb against her clit and watched her tremble. “Right here, baby girl.” I kissed her. Deep and slow, my tongue took possession of her mouth like my cock owned her cunt. Then I gave her exactly what she asked for.
Rocking into her body, gripping her ass tight with every thrust, I didn’t fuck her. I gave her the truth of what she meant to me. I kissed her mouth, her tight nipples, her bare shoulders, everywhere I could touch. I tasted the ocean breeze on her skin as I filled every inch of her.
I stroked against her G-spot, and I owned her clit. I didn’t give a shit about cults or bounties or logistics. I didn’t care about my business or obligations. In that moment, on a damn boat in the middle of chaos, I was hers.
And she was mine.
She wasn’t giving me attitude. She wasn’t emotionally detached. She was holding on to me for dear life as her hands roamed and her mouth sucked. She bit, she kissed, she groaned into my mouth and squeezed her sweet pussy, taking every inch I was giving her.
“André,” she panted, moving her hips with mine.
I loved the sound of my name on her lips, but I wanted to hear her fucking fall apart. Grinding my hips, rubbing her clit, hitting her G-spot, I drove into her with the rocking of the boat and demanded what I wanted. “Let go, chica.”
Her pussy clenched, and her nails dug into my back. “I want you to come inside me.”
“Jesucristo,” I growled.
“Please,” she begged, as the first wave of her release hit like a tsunami and milked my cock.
Fuck.
Fuck.
The breath.
The exhale.
The precipice.
The last moment before you check your sights, pull the trigger and end someone’s life.
I’d sat on that ledge over two hundred and fifty times, never questioning it. I did what I’d been trained to do. One shot. One kill.
My balls tightening, my muscles straining, my precipice looming—one shot.
One shot to make a life.
Her pussy contracting, she grasped my face and growled against my lips. “Give it to me,” she demanded. “I want to feel you.”
I was the master of control.
But I fucking lost it.
One thrust and I exploded inside her. Pulse after pulse, I came so fucking hard, I shook. My muscles strained, her tight little body in my arms, I roared out my release. “Jesu-fucking-cristo.”
My dick soaked, her release, mine, I short stroked in and out, never fucking dreaming I would be here.
Goddamn, I came inside her.
I fucking came inside her.