Blood Script

by Airicka Phoenix

  “Really?” Cora breathed.

  “Unless you would prefer to stay and watch me fill out commercial invoices.”

  She shook her head quickly.

  “Then I’ll have Nicholas take you wherever you want.”

  Her smile started out small and bloomed into a brilliant grin that should have torn her face in half. Her eyes sparkled in the glow of the restaurant brightly lit behind him. Her cheeks glowed pink, but he wasn’t sure that wasn’t from the cold.

  “Thank you.”

  He merely nodded.

  “Well, now that we’ve settled that, perhaps we can get somewhere warm,” De Marco muttered.

  “Coffee?” Elise piped in. “There’s a tiny bistro down the block from here.”

  “Not tonight, love.” Her husband put a hand on the small of her back. “I have work that needs finishing.”

  “I was actually hoping to talk James into taking me to the apartment,” Cora added sheepishly. “I want to grab a few things.”

  James had wanted to get straight back. He hadn’t left his ship unattended for that long ... ever. The absence of its familiar walls was discomforting.

  But there was no point coming back another day when they were already there.

  “We can swing by.”

  Cora beamed and turned quickly to her mom. Her arm snaked through the other woman’s and together, they started towards the cars.

  De Marco remained behind, blocking James’s path until the women were out of ear shot.

  “Here’s how this is going to work, you’re going to buy that house for my daughter, Crow. You’re going to make her and my wife happy. Then, in a few weeks, you’re going to decide to give my little girl the wedding she deserves.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you seem to think I’m an idiot. I know exactly what you’re doing. You took my daughter, and as a last-ditch effort to save your own ass, you thought hitching your wagon to hers would save you. Well, it won’t. You’re standing before me by the sheer grace of my daughter’s request. One word from her, one hint and you would be on the ground with a bullet in your head. But she’s asked me to spare you, to offer you a semblance of a chance. I don’t know why. I don’t honestly care. But until I can verify this mysterious third party after Cora, I’m going to be keeping a very close eye on you. In that time, you are going to take care of her like a husband is supposed to. Otherwise, you have outlived your usefulness. Do I make myself clear?”

  James bunched his fists in his pockets, the only outward show of his rising temper. His façade remained cool, mildly impassive, but attentive.

  “I don’t answer to coercion, Mr. De Marco,” James said once he was sure the other man had finished. “Your daughter could have been taken by someone far worse and we would not be standing here having this conversation. I’m not buying a house, not to appease you. I will not do anything, because you think you can intimidate me into it. Your beliefs in what I’m telling you has very little impact in the scheme of things. I only told you out of courtesy. Otherwise, I could have sailed to any part of the world I wanted and you would never have seen Cora again. So, it was by the sheer grace of Cora’s wishes that you got this moment with her at all.” James took a step around him, but stopped and lowered his voice. “And to answer your doubts, Bishop is very real. He’s very dangerous and he’s very hellbent on destroying you. You can believe it or not, but I’m not letting Cora go down with you. So, you can either help me protect her, or get the fuck out of my way.”

  Leaving De Marco to follow, James stalked in the direction of the two figures in the distance. The trail of laughter drifted into the night, a symphony of sweet bells masking the sounds of late traffic.

  She really was so beautiful. Possibly too beautiful. He wasn’t sure if there was a threshold for how stunning a single woman could be, but he was positive no one could match her; having sailed the seven seas and visited nearly every major city in the world, he could say that with a bit more than simple confidence.

  But it wasn’t only her face. While her elegant bone structure, her breathtaking eyes, and full, generous mouth were eye catching, it was her radiance that drew him. She didn’t glow like other women. It was an odd analogy, one no one would ever understand, but he didn’t know how else to explain it.

  Her light was different.

  Her presence.

  There was a shimmer to her, a magnetism he couldn’t wrap his head around.

  God, he was beginning to sound like raving nutcase, like one of those men who tripped on their own tongues over a beautiful woman. Maybe De Marco should have just shot him and put him out of his misery.

  Cora spotted him coming first. Her smile remained enormous. He could have counted every single tooth in her mouth.

  She met his gaze, her hazel eyes a soft green embedded with shards of gold in the dull spotlight pinning down the parking lot. They were hooded beneath the thick wings of her lashes, but he couldn’t miss the shine in them if he tried.

  Her hair glistened in dark, shimmery waves around her shoulders. Strands drifted over and along the pink of her wind kissed cheek, catching the light and glittering. She didn’t seem to notice, but it was all James could focus on.

  It was all he saw beckoning him the rest of the way with wide, purposeful strides.

  It was the first thing he did when he reached the pair; he hooked the satin threads and swept them back, grazing the coolness of her skin with his fingertip.

  Cora’s lips parted. Her lashes lifted and he was momentarily caught in that swirl of emeralds and gold.

  “Button your coat.” He told her quietly. Then he faced her mother as Cora did as he’d asked. “It was a pleasure, Ms. Harris.”

  She inclined her head. “Likewise, Captain.”

  “What time?” Cora blurted before James could take her elbow. “Tomorrow.”

  James paused with his fingertips resting lightly on her arm. The anxiousness in her eyes confused him. Did she really think he would change his mind? Or did she think he was lying about letting her see her mom again? It was unclear, but he liked neither option.

  “Whenever you like,” he told her evenly.

  “Seven!” Elise jumped in. “We can have breakfast.”

  Cora looked to him as if waiting for him to argue, and he realized this would become an annoyance eventually. While control was a thing he had a hard time relinquishing, requesting his every assurance on every matter at every turn would most likely drive him to drink.

  “I’ll let you ladies work it out,” he decided. “The day is yours to do with it what you wish.”

  Cora bit her lip, her grin blinding. She faced her mother with delight dancing in her eyes.

  “Seven.”

  He stepped back as the two embraced. He could have sworn someone’s ribs cracked. Then more hugs between her and De Marco. It was a tedious process, but he waited her out.

  Cora practically vibrated the rest of the way to the car. Her body seemed to hum with the smile she couldn’t get off her face.

  She slipped into the car without a word.

  James paused during his walk around the trunk to his side and squinted into the glittery darkness, and the pair still standing where they’d left them. He wondered how long they’d stand there for, but decided he didn’t really care. Sharing drinks and a meal with the two hadn’t softened his resolve, or his mission. De Marco would still see the end of James’s Glock sooner or later.

  But he did like Elise.

  The woman came off so prim and sweet, but there was a fire in her, a fight he admired. Even when threatening to kill him, she’d been so ... lovely about it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met anyone like that. In a lot of ways, she reminded him of Cora, all soft and adorable on the outside, a spiting, raging she-demon on the inside. Only Elise was more refined about it.

  “Thank you,” Cora murmured several minutes later as they drove in the direction of her apartment. “For today and for tomorrow. I honestly can’t t
ell you—”

  “You don’t need to check with me to see your mother,” he interrupted, turning down a side street. “As long as Nicholas, or I can go with you, you can make plans whenever you want.”

  He heard her sharp intake, but didn’t glance over.

  “Do you mean it?”

  There it was again, that annoying doubt of hers.

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  She hesitated, which only served to annoy him further. “I don’t know.”

  “I haven’t!” he snapped. “If I tell you something, then that’s what it is, understand?”

  She nodded mutely.

  The rest of the drive was done in silence. Every so often, he would catch her glancing over at him from the corner of his eye, but it was never accompanied by words.

  They arrived at her apartment a little after nine. He climbed out first and opened the door for her. She slid out and joined him on the sidewalk, beneath the warm glow of the lamplight.

  “Can I visit my bar before we go up?” she asked, gesturing over her shoulder.

  James followed her thumb to the window looking in on roughly five people and way too many empty tables. A woman stood on the other side of the counter idly scrubbing glasses and furtively stealing peeks at her watch.

  “Not tonight,” he told her. “I’ll have Nicholas bring you tomorrow, if you still want.”

  She looked on the verge of arguing, but she must have realized it was either argue and have him change his mind about them being there at all, or go up and see her apartment.

  She started to the door leading upstairs and knelt until she was eyelevel with her mail slot. James watched, bemused as she lifted the lid and dug two slender fingers inside. A moment later, she withdrew, gripping a single, bronze key. She tore off a bit of tape still stuck to it and flicked it aside.

  “Spare,” she murmured, turning to face the man behind her. “I don’t like those secret rock things.”

  “They don’t work anyway,” he said.

  Cora snorted. “Right?” Dusky lashes lifted and gems beneath met his. “Can we stay the night?”

  His immediate answer was no. He hadn’t spent a night off a boat since his eighteenth birthday. Strange beds made him uneasy. The absence of sea and wind, and the groan of metal made him restless.

  “Please?” She peered at him imploringly. “I was thinking about have a nightcap before climbing into bed. You could join me.”

  His groin was rock hard even before she finished speaking.

  “In a nightcap, or in bed?”

  Her answer was a teasing little shrug as she unlocked the door.

  Never trust a gorgeous woman who can make your cock hard with only a smirk. It was a rule he lived by, one that had served him well in the last thirty-five years. Had even saved his life once.

  Yet, the moment Cora pushed open the door to her apartment and offered him a smirk dripping with the promise of incredible sex, all that common sense vanished.

  All those years of listening to that inner voice failed him and he found himself following her like a dutiful lamb to slaughter.

  Maybe he really was crazy. He couldn’t decide as he followed the woman with the sexiest backside he’d ever had the pleasure of following up a steep set of stairs. Like the rest of her, the firm globes were addictive to stare at, to smack, to watch jiggle as he pounded into her from behind, a position he hadn’t yet tried with her.

  He would need to rectify that.

  But the seductive witch who had lured him up vanished the moment they reached the top and she smacked on the lights.

  “Oh!” she moaned. “My things. My beautiful things.”

  James arched an eyebrow that she didn’t notice while rubbing her hands along the row of coats and scarves hanging off pegs surrounding a large, round mirror in the cramped opening. Her boots were kicked under the bench, her coat tossed over top. Then she was darting further into the place, leaving him to follow after her.

  The short foyer opened into a wide sitting area lavished in the oddest furniture he’d ever seen someone in her position possess.

  Nothing matched. Everything was faded and old, and there was a ton of it. Of everything. It all seemed to cram into the place in a mismatch heap of things. And the place smelled like a gypsy tavern, like musk and night flowers. The floor was littered with worn afghans and straw mats and the windows were draped in tie-died strips of cloth.

  He hadn’t noticed all that the first time he’d been there. He’d been more focused on finding the bedroom and getting the girl. But taking a good look now, he was fairly certain he couldn’t stay there the night; the clutter was starting to give him a panic attack.

  “James?”

  He pulled out of his thoughts and focused on her and the sight she made standing in the threshold between the sitting area and kitchen bare foot with her wild mane twisted in a messy knot at the back of her head. He wasn’t sure when she scooped it all back, but tendrils framed the soft, heart shaped contours of her face, emphasizing the elegant column of her throat.

  “What’s your poison?”

  “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen. He heard the clink of glasses. A moment later, she returned with two beers. Real beers. None of that lite crap.

  He accepted his.

  Cora sighed as she flopped down on one of the sofas, a velvet, blue monstrosity with patches of faded velvet.

  “You have no idea how good this feels. Sit.”

  She patted the cushion next to her.

  James sat with a reluctance he hadn’t experienced in his life.

  By no stretch of the imagination was he a snob. His parents had spent every dollar they owned on Annie’s treatments for sixteen years so whatever they had left usually went to bills and nothing else. His mom hadn’t been above picking up toss-aways off street corners or garage sales. It wasn’t even the state of the Cora’s furniture that had his muscles coiled.

  It was the sheer, mindboggling amount of it.

  Aside from two sofas, there were four armchairs, three wooden chairs, six end tables, one coffee table, a million bookcases, lamps, knickknacks, and potted plants. Not to mention the bean bags, hammock, and egg-shaped swing thing in the corner. It was a thrift store on crack.

  “What’s wrong?”

  James hesitated. “How many people live here?”

  She followed his gaze over the room, possibly searching for signs of other inhibitors.

  “Just me. Why?”

  “Why do you have so many chairs?”

  She glanced at the objects in question thoughtfully. “Well, it started off as a joke. See, when I first moved in, I only had the one sofa. This one.” She gave a little bounce that rippled over to his side. “My mom decided to throw me a house warming party, but there was like fifty people and nowhere to sit. So, that entire year, every time someone came over, they brought some kind of chair with them. There used to be a ton more, but I ran out of room.”

  James shook his head, his mouth working into a grin he was having a hard time containing. “That is the strangest thing I’ve ever heard. This place is a disaster.”

  “Hey!” She twisted the cap off her drink. “That’s uncalled for. I didn’t once mention the bare bones of your room.”

  “My room is efficient. I know where everything is.”

  “Because you don’t have anything,” she argued, laughing.

  He followed her example and opened his drink. He took a swig.

  “I have what I need.”

  Cora rolled her eyes. “A bed and a chest of clothes?”

  “I have a desk,” he reminded her.

  Cora laughed, the deep, open laugh she’d been sharing with her mother the entire night, the one he’d never once heard because of him. It rolled through the room, an avalanche of amusement.

  James watched her, fascinated. His beer hung inches from his mouth, forgotten.

  “I’ve never met anyone who could live o
ff so little,” she breathed, calming down a fraction.

  “I’ve lived off less,” he murmured.

  Her gaze locked with his over the spare cushion between them. “Tell me,” she said, wiggling into the fat pillow squished between the back and the armrest. “Were you always a pirate? How did you decide to become one?” she went on, shimmering eyes narrowed teasingly. “Is there a school for pirating? A Masters in Plundering?”

  James shook his head, no longer even bothering to conceal his grin. “It sort of fell into my lap. One of the foster homes I was in, the guy’s brother worked at the docks. He took me under his wing, showed me the ropes. Even after I was moved to a different place, he still drove out and got me. I met Marcus Lozano, who offered me a spot on his ship. Didn’t realize it was smuggling packets of heroin disguised as sugar until after we landed in Halifax, but I stayed on. Learned the business. A few years later, I ran into Nicholas. The three of us had been best friends our whole lives growing up. After Annie died ... and everything fell apart, I was sent to different cities, sometimes different provinces and we lost touch. He was between jobs and needed some fast cash. I brought him in. Five years later, I got my own ship, my own crew, started up my own client list, and here I am.”

  “How old were you?” Her voice was quiet.

  “I was in the system for eight months, until I turned eighteen.”

  It had been the longest eight months of his life. Between the beatings and being starved, it was sleeping in closets and always keeping one eye open. But it had trained him for what came next. It had made him strong, agile, shrewd. He never would have made it on Marcus’s crew otherwise.

  “Where are your parents?”

  A bead of condensation trickled down the side of his bottle. He watched as it tore a path through all the other droplets to the bottom where it sprung off and plummeted to the carpet between his feet.

  He set the bottle down on the coffee table, on a coaster.

  “My dad went after the men who hurt Annie and never came back.”

  “Your mom?”

  He scrubbed a hand damp from the drink over his face and back into his hair. “She hung herself in our basement two weeks later.”