The Brit

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  And her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, looking up at me through heavy lids. Her question brings me back into the room. It also makes me think. Because how could there be anything wrong? My lightness is being weighed down with a heaviness I hate.

  Instead of answering, I push my sweats down until my dick falls free, kick them to the side, and rip my T-shirt over my head. Taking Rose behind her thighs, I drag her down the bed. “Nothing is wrong.” I lift her foot and kiss her ankle softly. She tenses, her chest starting to swell and subside with her deep breaths. Dropping to my knees, I pull her down farther until her arse is on the edge, her feet resting on my shoulders, my hands wrapped around her ankles. “You’re here. I’m here. Nothing’s wrong.” My lips kiss their way up the inside of her leg, her body solidifying, and when I reach her inner thigh, she throws her head back on a whimper. “Good?” I nibble at her flesh, brushing my nose from side to side, relishing the smell of her skin. Of her sweet essence just inches away.

  “This music,” she breathes.

  “Sexy, huh?”

  “God, yeah.”

  I turn my mouth inward and growl under my breath when her scent hits me like a ton of bricks. I slide my hands onto her thighs and push them apart, opening her up to me. And I stare, watching the visible pulse in her clit thrum. Shit, she’s not going to last. When I drop a chaste kiss on her wetness and she bucks, my doubts are confirmed. She needs to come down a little or this isn’t going to last long. “Sit up,” I order, reaching for her upper arms and helping her. I pull her jumper over her head, and then pull her down off the bed to my lap.

  My skin blazes, my hand stroking over her hair, my mouth attacking hers. Her upper body pushing into my chest sends the blood flow in my veins into dizzying territory as I kiss her hard, exploring every part of her mouth I can find. Breath doesn’t seem necessary right now. Taking in air seems pointless. Because Rose steals it all.

  I growl as I wrench my lips away, pushing her back on my lap a little. Her eyes follow my hand to my dick, and I circle my girth with my palm, encouraging her back to me. I slide into her sweet heat, holding my breath and closing my eyes. Her nails find my shoulders and sink into my flesh. Her moan is broken, ragged, and caught in her throat. “I love you,” I whisper, opening my eyes. The vision before me could be enough to call off my plan and stay here all night. The boatyard is the last place I want to be. But it’ll be the last time. The last deal. Then it’s full-steam ahead into a life I never dared dream of, with a woman I’d believe was pure fantasy had I not found her.

  I retreat from her softness, clenching my teeth as I drive back up, using my hold of her waist to pull her onto me. My body shakes, and Rose increases her grip of my shoulders. “God, woman, you have no idea how good you feel.” I ease her up and let her sink slowly back down, my head dropping back but my eyes sticking to her face. It’s sweaty, flushed, and utterly fucking stunning. “You want me slow like this?” I ask, building and maintaining my pace, every drive sending bolts of harsh, intense tingles down my spine. “Or hard?” I lift her and abruptly pound up as I yank her down without warning, slamming into her hard. She cries out. It’s the most indulging sound of want. “Is that my answer?” I ask, smoothly gliding forward. Now, she moans, her spine bowing, compressing her boobs between us. “She likes that too.” Laying my hand on her breastbone, I drag it down between her boobs and come to rest on her stomach. “You need to speak to me, Rose. Tell me. Hard?” I power forward, hitting her deep and firm, shoving her upward on a shout of despair. “Or slow?” A few lazy grinds has her clawed fingers pulling free of my shoulder, her fists balling and slamming into me. “Tell me, Rose.”

  “Hard,” she pants. “Slow. I don’t care.” Her drowsy, lusty gaze stops my moves, and she swivels her hips teasingly, my back teeth clenching when she pulls me deeper. Locking me in her arms, she kisses the scar on my cheek.

  I turn my face and catch her lips, palming her bum and pulling her closer. Her gasp is my next inhale. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever hurt you,” I whisper.

  “I’m sorry for letting you.” Her breasts press into my chest, warm and soft. “Or maybe I’m not. Because without pain, there is no you.”

  Never has something made so much sense to me. I grab her neck and kiss her like it might be the last time. With her wrapped around me, my cock still buried deep, I rise and take us both down to the bed, crawling up a little way. My pace is sure and exact, our kiss becoming clumsy and rough, as we both climb to the point of no return. The pulse in my dick becomes a vibration, the walls of her pussy shaking around me. “I’m going to come so fucking hard.” I bite down on her lip, growling through the heat blazing in my groin. My release is surging forward at an unstoppable rate, and when my orgasm strikes, I’m almost paralyzed by it, my body going into shock. “Holy—”

  “Fuck,” Rose shouts, jolting beneath me, being ambushed by a climax that must be matching the power of mine. Her head drops to the side, her muscles squeezing me, constricting, her strength unimaginable. “Oh my God.”

  Electric shocks hit me relentlessly, every single one almost agony in its intensity. “Christ.” I’ve never been the victim of such merciless pleasure.

  She sighs, relaxing a little under me. “I hate you.”

  “I hate you more,” I counter, my lids heavy. I give in and close my eyes, my face settling on her shoulder. “Thank you for hurting me.”

  “Thank you for letting me.” Her hold of me tightens. And my love for her grows.

  “But where are you going?” The concern in her voice is undeniable as she follows me from the bathroom to the wardrobe, stark naked and wet. Our shower was just how I intended it to be. Intimate. Then I told her I was going out, and she’s been like a dog with a bone ever since.

  I pull on a pair of boxers. “Don’t worry.”

  She scoffs. I get it. After everything, I get it. She remains before me, glaring at me with a look that could cut off my dick. “Tell me,” she demands, folding her arms over her chest and pushing her boobs up high. I swallow and look away, reaching for some jeans. My hand just lands on them when they’re swiped away. “Danny.” My name is short, clipped, and drenched in warning.

  I sigh and face her. “Give me my jeans.”

  “No.” She takes them behind her back, as if that might stop me from getting at them.

  Stepping forward fast, I grab her arm and swing her around, pulling her back into my front and locking her tightly in my hold. “Give me my jeans.” I don’t want to take them. I want her to surrender them.

  “Only if you tell me where you’re going.”

  “No.” Fuck this. I haven’t got time to play battle of the wills. I snatch them from her hand and release her, getting them on before reaching for a thin-knit V-neck jumper and pulling it over my head.

  As I push my arms through the sleeves, I watch, amused, as her cheeks pulse from the fierce bite of her teeth. She’s getting angry. It’s sexy as fuck. “Fine.” She reaches for her hand and pulls her ring from her finger.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes at her pathetic demonstration. “Put it back on,” I order, slipping my feet into my boots.

  “Being in a relationship is about compromising,” she argues, placing her ring on the dresser nearby.

  Did she read that in a book or something? I don’t know, but she’s seriously rubbing me up the wrong way. Stomping over to the cabinet, I snatch the ring off the dresser and swipe up her hand, shoving it back on her finger. Then I frame her cheeks with my palms, getting my face threateningly close to hers. “Ever take that off again, I won’t be so nice next time.” I slam a kiss on her lips and feel her go lax against me.

  Her arms are over my shoulders in an instant, her body crawling up mine until she’s hanging from my front. I know her game. Stall me. Or stop me leaving altogether. She hums, moans, and if I don’t stop this kiss soon, she might claim a victory. “Enough.” I pry myself away from her mouth, finding starry eyes and rosy, swollen lips. She’
s breathless. Her skin hot under my palms.

  “I’m worried,” she admits quietly. “I know you’re going to see Nox. You are, aren’t you?”

  “I already told you, I don’t want you worrying about that.” I try to place her on her feet and get absolutely nowhere, every one of her muscles locking down. “Rose . . .” I warn.

  “Promise me.”

  “Promise you what?”

  “That you’ll be safe.”

  I smile, even if I hate this unfamiliar uncertainty in her. “I promise,” I reply softly, bringing her in for a hug. The wet hair on her neck tickles my nose, and I breathe her into me.

  “I hate you.” Her words vibrate with emotion.

  I close my eyes and hold her tighter. “I hate you too.”

  “Come back to me.”

  “Always.” It’s an effort, but I rip myself away and leave her behind, walking out of the bedroom with purpose and grit.

  “You’re shitting me?” Brad’s face is twisted with disbelief beyond recognition. “No way, Danny. No fucking way.” He turns at the front door and marches out to the car, throwing himself into the driver’s seat in defiance. The door slams with a thwack, and he starts the engine, revving it hard and loud.

  Ringo slips his hands into his pockets and relaxes back on his heels. “I don’t think he likes your plan.”

  “Tough shit.” I go after Brad, pulling the door open. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  “You’re fucking crazy.”

  “I told the Romanians I’d be alone. It’ll be a bloodbath before we get out the car if they see you with me.”

  “Then I won’t be in the car.” He throws a hand out toward Ringo. “We’ll take cover in the woods.”

  I sigh, working hard to keep my cool. “Don’t you think Nox will have men covering every angle?”

  His teeth grind, his brown eyes taking on an edge of psycho. “You’re walking into an ambush. Alone. Who’s going to cover you?”

  “I won’t need cover.” I reach for his arm and manhandle him from the car, taking his place once he’s out. “Besides, it was you who told me the Romanians were amateurs. Couldn’t organize an orgy, remember?”

  Brad grimaces. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you’re going alone when you detailed this plan of yours?”

  “I was trying to minimize the fucking earache I knew I’d get.” I slam the door and roar off down the driveway, looking to my rearview mirror. Brad looks like he’s breakdancing on the gravel, arms and legs everywhere. It’s an amusing sight, though I can appreciate his frustration and worry. I’m walking on dangerous ground, and I’m walking on it alone. I never walk alone. But to get what I want, I’ve got to do this my way.

  I flick the radio on and rest back, working myself down, trying to relax. I need to relax. Be levelheaded. I can’t let anything ruin my only opportunity to get out of this world in one piece and without the worry of my past catching up with me. This is the only way. Brad didn’t like it, even before I told him I’d be going alone.

  I watch the freeway disappear into the distance before me, the roads surprisingly clear for eight o’clock. The sun is dropping from the sky in the distance, casting an amber glow across the horizon. It’s Miami at its finest. I think of Rose. I think about my prize. I’m pretty sure she would have tied me up had I told her my intentions. She would have done anything to stop me.

  As I pull off the main road and hit the dirt track to the boatyard, I’m watchful. I spy at least a dozen groups of men lingering in the overgrowth as I rumble down the divot-infested road. They’re all armed. They’re all monitoring me. They’re all reporting back to Nox, telling him I’m alone.

  When I roll to a stop, my car door is pulled open before I turn off the engine, and I’m hauled from the seat by a tall skinhead. One man checks the boot of the Merc, another pats me down. It takes everything in me not to head-butt the fucker manhandling me. It takes everything not to remove that machine gun from his hold and sink the bullets into him.

  “Neînarmat,” he calls over his shoulder. “Mașina?”

  “Curat,” another man replies as I’m shoved against the side of the Merc. My lip starts to curl, my fists twitching.

  “The Angel-faced Assassin.” Nox emerges from the shadows by the container, suited and booted, his head freshly shaved. His leer fills me with hatred, images of his bony fists getting friendly with Rose invading my head. So this is the fucker who’s sent my world into fucking chaos.

  “Tell your men to be more hospitable,” I spit, pulling my jumper back into place. “Or don’t, because I can’t tell you how desperate I am to butcher each and every one of you bastards. Just like we did your father and brother.”

  Nox shows the sky his palms, smiling mildly. His move tells me something important. This is less about revenge and more about him finding his place in this fucked-up world. He couldn’t give two shits about his dead family. “I would be a fool not to check you’re meeting your end of the deal.” His accent is thick, but his English perfect.

  “I noticed.” I point up the track, where his men probably still remain, poorly concealed. “If you’re gonna have your men stake out, tell them to move farther into the bushes. I counted thirteen watch posts. Three men at each. You’ve certainly got me covered.”

  “You’ve always been ahead of the game, Black.”

  “Shall we get on with this?” My skin is starting to crawl in the presence of so much scum.

  “You seem in a rush.”

  “I have a life to start,” I reply coldly, heading toward one of the containers that’s ram-packed with weapons that’ll likely see Nox all right for some years, as well as shoot him up the ladder of power and wealth. I pull the keys from my pocket but pause from inserting it into the lock when I hear Nox call me. “What?” I ask.

  “You’re really giving up your empire for a woman?” I look at the metal doors of the container, nodding as he goes on. “I mean, Rose is out of this world, I admit. No one knows that more than me.” I can’t see him, but the satisfaction in his words must be all over his face. Which is why I won’t look. I won’t be able to hold myself back from murdering the sadistic prick. “I taught her everything she knows. I hope you’re reaping the benefits of my lessons.”

  Don’t kill him. Do not kill him. “Don’t ever speak her name ever again. That’s also part of the deal.” I slip the key into the lock and turn it. “Good luck in your new business, Dimitri.” I pull the door open fast, swinging it around to meet the side of the container and putting myself behind it, out of sight.

  And out of the firing line.

  When I hear the first shot, I smile.

  The container jolts against my back from all the boots hitting the floor, all running forward and showing themselves. Then it’s like a fucking firework display as machine guns ring out and the sound of a missile sailing through the air whistles loudly. I hear the panic. I hear Nox roaring at his men to run for cover. And then I hear the explosion. I close my eyes and relax against the metal of the container, like I could be listening to an opera with a cigar and brandy in my hand. My only regret in this moment is that I didn’t get to see Nox’s face when he found the Russians in the container instead of his guns.

  “More,” a man shouts, a Russian man, undoubtedly indicating the track where more of Nox’s men are appearing, coming to investigate the bedlam. More shots. More explosions.

  I pull my phone from my pocket and type out a text to Rose.

  * * *

  I’m taking a break from the office.

  Let’s get married next week.

  I hate you.

  Chapter 28

  ROSE

  * * *

  The soles of my feet are sore from all the pacing. Upstairs, downstairs, into the kitchen, his office. My circling only got worse when I found Brad and Ringo. Danny went alone. Brad, like me, is furious. But he refused to tell me where Danny’s gone or what he’s doing. Seeing Nox, yes, but alone? Ringo had to pry my clawed fingers from
the front of Brad’s shirt when I lost my temper, demanding he tell me. He didn’t.

  Now, I’m staring down at a text message from Danny, and though it should make my pulse race with excitement, my heart has taken on a nervous thrum. Something doesn’t feel right. My thumb finds its way to my mouth, and I chew my nail like a starved animal, thinking. Thinking. Thinking. I watch from the top of the stairs as Brad and Ringo cross the hallway, both quiet, heading for the kitchen.

  I move quickly but quietly on light feet, down the stairs to Danny’s office. As soon as I enter, I go to his desk and start tugging drawers open, rummaging through the contents. There has to be something. A man like Danny Black, he must keep a . . .

  My thoughts trail off as my hand rests on something cold and hard, and my breath tugs in my throat as I pull it from beneath some papers. I stare down at the gun. It’s heavy, feels alien, but I have no time to waste getting used to it. I march to the kitchen and enter, disengaging the safety. The sound silences the room, pulling Brad, Ringo, and Esther to face me. Brad’s face will be one I’ll never forget—somewhere between shock and disgust. “What are you doing?”

  “Take your guns from your belts and put them on the floor.” I aim at Brad’s chest, my serious eyes on his face. “Do it.”

  “You’re going to shoot me?” He laughs.

  “If I have to.”

  “Rose, don’t be—”

  I aim above his head and fire, shutting him the hell up, before re-aiming at his chest. His stare widens, all three of them ducking. “Guns,” I prompt.

  Both men reach for their belts slowly, one hand up in surrender. Part of me is hurt that they clearly think I’m capable of such a cold-blooded act. But part of me is thankful. They still don’t trust me. Right now, that’s good.

  They slowly lower their guns to the floor. “Easy, Rose,” Ringo says, kicking his to the side.

  I gather up their weapons and slip them into my bag. “Now take me.”