On the Way Home

by Skye Warren

  “Of course.” She giggled in a flirty way that told me Dmitri was right beside her. “He’s a man, Della. You know as well as I do how to handle them.”

  Yeah, I had believed I could handle men. Men like Dmitri. Dancing at his club until I could figure out something better, something safer. Except he hadn’t wanted to let me go. He hadn’t wanted to let Caro go either, and she hadn’t put up a fight. Even when he had contacted me with his horrible proposition, I’d thought I could handle him. Give him what he wanted so he’d leave my sister alone.

  But this entire thing was getting out of hand.

  “Put Dmitri on the phone,” I said.

  “I thought you didn’t like him,” she said with a smirk in her voice. “You said you weren’t going to talk to him and neither should I.”

  “And look how well that turned out,” I snapped. I forced myself to calm. It wasn’t Caro’s fault. She didn’t understand. I had to believe that, because the alternative, thinking that Caro really wanted a man as thoroughly disgusting as that, made me hate my sister. Dmitri was the scum of the earth. He was the dirt underneath my bare feet. “I have some business with him.”

  Caro made a dismissive sound. “You with your job. Working crazy hours, and for what? Fifty K a year?”

  Less, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. “Some of us have bills to pay.”

  “And you wonder why I stick with Dmitri. No rent, no electricity or whatever the fuck. It’s just a good time, okay? So stop being a downer.” There was rustling, and her voice became muted. “She wants to talk to you.”

  In the pause, I knew the phone had been passed to Dmitri. Even the energy over the airwaves felt different. Or maybe the difference was inside me—tension and fear. I hated being afraid of him.

  “Hello, love,” he said in that oily way of his.

  “Let my sister go,” I said without preamble.

  He laughed. “She doesn’t want to leave. You heard her. I treat her very well.”

  “All the crack she wants, right?”

  “Of course not. That stuff is expensive. I don’t waste more than I have to on a dirty whore.”

  “I hope she heard you,” I hissed.

  “You know me better than that,” he said mildly, and he was right.

  I knew exactly how careful he could be. He hadn’t started working with that international cartel by accident. His brutal reputation had preceded him. He was known widely for despicable acts against both the criminals he worked with and the innocent people around them. Acts like this one.

  “Do you have the package?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “You mean the human being you asked me to sentence to death?”

  “Caro was right, you are dramatic. You aren’t sentencing anyone to death. That’s my job.”

  “What does that make me, the mailman? No, thank you.”

  “Are you trying to defy me, sweetheart? We both know that doesn’t work out well. For you, for me. For your sister.”

  “If you hurt a single hair on her head—”

  “I won’t start with her hair. No, that wouldn’t do. Her fingers would be the best place. Those pretty nails she keeps painted because she thinks I’ll keep fucking her if she does. I’ll take a pair of pliers and tear each one out of the soft skin, one by one.”

  “Stop.” I felt sick. The images were all too real in my mind. Other girls who’d disappeared for weeks. Their bodies were found later in a back alley or in the river. The police would come around with pictures of them from the morgue, their eyes dull and lifeless.

  Do you know her? they would ask.

  Sure, I saw her around. She danced here too. But we weren’t close. No, I don’t know who killed her. She didn’t have any enemies.

  Lies. Dmitri was our common enemy. As soon as we stepped out of line, we’d end up like them. Everyone knew it. Even the police knew it, after a while, but they still couldn’t stop him. Powerless and small, I couldn’t stop him either—but I would keep my sister safe.

  “Please, leave Caro alone. She hasn’t done anything to you. Let her go, and I’ll take her place. I’ll come and do…” I swallowed hard. “Whatever you want.”

  There was a weighted pause. “What an offer, sweetheart. You’ve managed to surprise me. I can’t say it’s not tempting. Unfortunately, business is business, and I need that passenger. Please tell me you’re going to deliver him soon.”

  “I couldn’t—” I scrambled to think of a believable excuse, something that would keep Dmitri from storming my house tonight but wouldn’t piss him off enough to hurt Caro. “He asked me out on a date, though. I’m seeing him tomorrow. I’ll get him then.”

  “Where is he now?” Dmitri sounded cross.

  Why did Dmitri want this guy so badly? “He went to stay with a buddy of his. From the military. And by the way, it really would have helped if you had told me about that.”

  It felt like a sick joke, like getting some kind of guardian angel sent down to help me, my own person G. I. Joe. But helping me was the last thing he would do if he knew the truth about me. And no matter how strong or how fierce, no single man could go up against Dmitri’s resources and win.

  “What does it matter? He is a man, yes? You know what to do with them.” His voice was mocking me, not only from Caro’s words earlier but also all the times he had seen me onstage. Back then he’d been the owner of a strip club that dealt in drugs, and then guns, out of the back rooms. Oh, and flesh. He’d pull any of the girls back there if a customer flashed the right amount of money. The first time it had happened to me, I’d fought the asshole customer. And lost.

  Then I’d paid the price when Dmitri taught me a lesson afterward.

  “You’re despicable,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Yes,” he said amicably. “Which is all the more reason for you to give me what I want. Someone is going to die tomorrow. I’d prefer it was your new boyfriend. But if he’s not here… if I’m very angry… there’s a young woman in my bed as we speak, just waiting for me to wrap my hands around her neck.”

  “Don’t touch her!”

  The hollow sound of his laughter sent chills down my spine. Then the line went dead. I stared at the screen of my phone until the backlight went off. A second later it dinged with an incoming text. There was an address from the same unlisted number as the call. Fabulous.

  I had the package. I had the destination. So why couldn’t I make the delivery?

  Because an innocent man will die. But I’d stopped believing in innocence a long time ago. I didn’t really care that he was innocent, that he fought for his country, that he probably helped little old ladies across the street like a goddamned Boy Scout. The truth was, I didn’t want him to die because I liked him. Really liked him. And that was the kind of mistake that could get me killed.

  Chapter Six

  Clint

  I woke up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. My stomach grumbled and rolled, a little earthquake underneath my abs. I hadn’t eaten much on the flight from Germany. Before that it had been hospital food while they dug shrapnel out of my arm. And before that it had been knockoff MREs. Not even the regular nutrient-dense stuff the army had; this was cheap imitation they served security personnel at the warehouse where I’d been undercover.

  In short, I was fucking ravenous.

  But I made a pit stop in the bathroom and grabbed a hot shower, determined to feel human again. Besides, Della had invited me into her room—the least I could do was not look like a slob.

  I found her in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the propped-open window above the sink. Her blonde hair was pale gold, limned with light. She looked like a goddamned angel, and for the first time I wondered if I really did need to hook up with one of the military’s counselors. But if Della were some PTSD-induced delusion, I didn’t really want to know.

  My training had taught me to move lightly, all two hundred and sixty pounds of me, so I shuffled on purpose so as not to scare her.

&nbs
p; She turned to look at me, and her smile nearly stopped my heart. Mercy. My hand actually went to my chest and rubbed absently, trying to relieve the ache.

  “Hey, soldier,” she said with that Southern twang that drove me crazy. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Like a log. Thanks again for letting me stay the night.”

  Something flickered in her expression. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

  Damn, I wanted to stay for a long time. But there was a hesitation in her voice that told me she wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to call up my buddy from the plane. Maybe crash on his couch.” Even though I felt bad for interrupting James’s reunion, I was running low on options. And though he might grumble, I knew he wouldn’t leave me hanging. We’d been through hell and back together.

  “No! Please stay.” Her expression smoothed out. Her eyes filled with sensual light. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  I studied her. This girl was throwing off mixed signals like crazy. Her words and actions had been nothing but welcoming. And I sure as hell wanted her—more than her bed, I wanted her body. I wanted all of her. I just couldn’t ignore the shadows in her eyes. It was clear my presence here was making her uncomfortable, so I should leave. Today.

  And hope she’d agree to meet me for a date after that.

  “Look, Della. You’re a beautiful girl.” She looked alarmed, but I was done wondering where we stood. At least she’d know how I felt about her. “I know we just met, but I really like you. I want to keep seeing you after this.”

  “Keep seeing me after…?” She seemed cautious. What had made her so cautious?

  “I want to take you out. Be with you. I’m not asking for a commitment, but I’d at least like to see where it goes. You mean more to me than a place to crash.”

  Emotion washed over her face, faster and more riotous than I could read. She turned back to the stove and flipped a pancake. She was withdrawing from me, but I let her go. If there was one thing I’d learned in my life, it was to ask for what I wanted, and I wanted her. But I wouldn’t push her either. I’d put my offer on the table. Now it was up to her to accept it or tell me to go.

  “Sit down,” she said, her voice muffled. She didn’t turn or look at me as she bustled to pull plates down. “Breakfast is ready.”

  I could be obedient when I had to be. In order to get pancakes, for example. And these weren’t ordinary pancakes. She placed a plate in front of me loaded with a full stack, diced peaches, and cream that looked loose enough to be hand whipped. On a side plate were two eggs sunny-side up and two strips of glistening bacon.

  “Mercy,” I muttered.

  She smiled, and the corners of her eyes crinkled, letting me know this one was real. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

  “Starving.” I waited until she’d gotten a plate with a single pancake and a side of scrambled eggs before eating. I slathered the pancakes with warm maple syrup until they were heavy and thick.

  The first bite was pure sex on a fork, and I couldn’t stop the groan that came out of me. My eyes met hers, and heat sparked between us. Jesus God, she was going to be the death of me. I cut another bite—three pancakes deep—and made sure to grab peaches and whipped cream this time. Even better.

  “You like it?” she asked, a half smile playing at her lips.

  The little minx. “I wasn’t planning on rushing you, I swear, but I gotta know… will you marry me?”

  She laughed, the sound lighting up the air around us like glimmers in twilight. I wanted to make her laugh over and over, until those shadows never entered her eyes again.

  Her expression dimmed. “You really should know more about a girl before you ask questions like that.”

  Yeah, that was true enough. I had always been quick to fall for girls. I looked big and tough, so they figured they could jerk me around and I wouldn’t get hurt. And sure, I had muscles. Moving shit, I could handle. But getting cheated on and lied to… that kind of stuff ate away at me.

  “Why did you pick me up?” I asked.

  For a second she looked stricken. Then she smiled, a dark, wicked grin that made my body heat. “Because I have plans for you, soldier.”

  Yes, ma’am.

  I focused on eating the delicious breakfast she’d made, finishing off my plate and swiping the rest of the bacon right off the pan. She ate a quarter of her pancake and a whole cup of tea, making me wonder if she worked at keeping her slender figure so she could move through the aisle easily.

  Or maybe she just liked looking that way. I sure as hell liked how she looked, but it had nothing to do with the circumference of her waist. She was sexy as hell—her curves, her hollows, and everything in between.

  Even her eyes were sexy, the thick lashes and knowing glint. She moved with an effortless seduction…and I remembered what James had said about her walking like a stripper. Everything in her house spoke of wholesome Southern charm, but her innate sensuality… those shadows in her eyes…

  “What did you do before you were a stewardess?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Picked up guys at bars, I guess. Grocery stores. The usual places.”

  “Nice deflection.”

  She shrugged.

  And normally I’d let it go. It wasn’t my style to pry, especially in this situation with a beautiful woman who was setting her boundaries. But it felt like some crucial piece of the puzzle, the cinch in the middle when I’d only begun to work at the edges.

  “Seriously,” I pushed as gently as I could.

  She ran her fingertip over the top of her cup, swirling once, twice, and my body tightened. Her gaze met mine. “Fine, you caught me. I’ve never picked up a guy before you. They always came to me. After work.” Her laugh was hollow. “Before work. During work.”

  My stomach clenched, imagining all those guys hitting on her. Not taking no for an answer? Those fucking shadows in her eyes. “Sounds rough,” was all I said.

  Her expression twisted into something like a smile but far too painful to be one. “I was a stripper, Clint. And whatever else they wanted me to be. Okay?”

  She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the hardwood floors. Her hands were shaking as she gathered her cup and the plates and went to the sink. I sat there, processing. I supposed it shouldn’t have been a surprise. It wasn’t, really. James was pretty fucking perceptive when he wanted to be. So, she was a stripper.

  And whatever else they wanted her to be.

  I could guess what that was. I could also guess how horrible it must have been for her. Her pain and humiliation filled the air in the small, sunlit kitchen. My fists were clenched, imagining whatever asshole had made her feel this way. People probably figured a soldier would be violent, but not me. I’d rather keep things calm and avoid a fight—no one had to get hurt. But right now, if that guy was in front of me, I’d pound him into the floor. Over and over again until his face was so disfigured everyone would know he was a monster inside as well as out.

  The water ran and dishes clinked, and I knew I was hiding from her. Keeping my reaction in check as I remained at the table. She had retreated, but now I was retreating in my own way.

  I followed her to the sink.

  Her body tensed, telling me in clear terms to stay away. She was used to shutting guys out. I should respect that, but I also knew that staying away from her now would be the greatest insult. She’d take it as a rejection—which was clearly all she expected. She’d spit out the truth of her past and thought I would judge her for it.

  I rested my hands lightly on her hips, giving her time to pull away or tell me no. She stayed very still, not moving. The only sound in the room was the rushing from the faucet. By slow degrees, the tension in her body changed from fear to awareness.

  “You okay?” I asked softly.

  “Why?” she asked bitterly. “Looking for a private dance?”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
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br />   She laughed bitterly. “That’s where you’re wrong, soldier.”

  God, she was a contradiction. She invited me in and then glared at me for being there. I couldn’t figure it out. Maybe I didn’t want to figure it out. That would mean acknowledging that I should leave her alone.

  I didn’t want to leave her alone.

  She felt so warm in my hands, so slender and supple. I kept remembering her mouth on me—glorious, hot—and I desperately wanted to return the favor. I couldn’t imagine her tasting anything but sweet. That was her, the Georgia peach, splashing on my tongue. But maybe the sugar would be balanced with feminine musk. She turned wary when I least expected it, undertones of earth and darkness to balance out her smile.

  “I really should leave,” I said, my voice hoarse, my offer desperate and halfhearted.

  She turned in my arms. Her eyelids had lowered, the sunlight bathing her face in a sensual glow. “Stay. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  I wanted every wicked thing her husky tone offered, but I wanted even more. I pulled her off balance, so that she tumbled against my chest. Then I held her close, her cheek lined up to my heart, her arms around my waist. Something shifted inside me and locked into place. When she was touching me, holding me, it felt like everything would be okay. Yeah, my cock was hard for her, but I could have stayed like this forever, feeling her breasts rise and fall, arms wrapped around her strong and vulnerable body.

  She took my hand and led me back to the bedroom. I knew it was a power play, a way for her to regain control of the situation, and I let her do it. When she snapped at me to undress, I obeyed her again. I would have followed her to the ends of the earth in that moment—and fallen right off the sepia waterfall like one of those old-time maps.

  I stood there, naked, with my hard-on thick and heavy in front of me. My cock had been at half-mast since I woke up, knowing I was in Della’s house, hoping I’d get to fuck her today. That blowjob had been so amazing and so cruel all at once, giving me endless pleasure without a drop of hers.

  “Get on the bed,” she ordered.

  I gave her a sideways glance. Her expression remained stern and unyielding, and my body responded with a predictable tightening. I’d always had a thing for powerful women.