by Wendy Rosnau
There was no way she could say no. Her body was already turning into a fire box. "Yes," she murmured. "Love me, Blu."
He turned her around and pulled her back into his groin. His head dipped again, his warm lips finding her neck at the same time his fingers found her zipper. He slid it down and shoved her jeans wide. Then his big hand was moving past her panties, and his fingers were sliding into her nest of blond curls.
"Blu…"
His fingers dipped farther. "You're wet."
"I know."
"You want me. Say it."
"I want you, Blu. Please." Kristen closed her eyes, unable to deny how badly she ached for him. She moaned pathetically as one long finger sank into her. "Take me below," she pleaded into the sultry night air. "Take us to heaven."
She was in his arms in a heartbeat. He carried her downstairs and moved through the dark galley and down the hall. In his bedroom, he laid her on the bed and flipped on the small wall light. He stripped her first, then his own jeans and T-shirt were on the floor.
Beautifully naked, he climbed onto the bed. On his knees, straddling her, he towered above her. "You can stop me if you need to," he murmured, then kissed her parted lips, filling her with his tongue.
His mouth moved to her breasts, licking her nipples until they were tight and aching. Kristen moaned softly, arched.
"Remember, you can stop me, if—"
"Never. I don't want you ever to stop."
His tongue explored her navel, his hair moving against her breasts to tease her into another moan. "You smell good," he whispered. "Taste good, too." His fingers parted her, then were replaced by his tongue. Kristen arched off the bed as a primal need sent her passion soaring.
"Blu!"
"I know, heaven, right? Let it take you, baby. I'll be here to catch you on your way back down."
He sent his tongue over her sensitive, hot flesh, branding Kristen with a scalding wave of sweet surrender. She cried out, arched her back. Then she was lost, lost in a delicious thunder and lightning climax that sent her to heaven.
And true to his word, Blu was there to catch her as she splintered back to earth.
* * *
Chapter 14
« ^ »
It was midnight, and Kristen sat at the kitchen table wrapped in a sheet, watching Blu as he roamed his kitchen like a man who intended to be a bachelor for the rest of his life. He was comfortable in a way that both surprised her and alarmed her. He was definitely a man, who, as he'd said earlier, didn't need anything or anyone to survive.
As he carried scrambled eggs to the table on a plate with one fork jammed into the fluffy pile, Kristen's gaze was drawn to his hip-hugging cutoffs and the scar on his thigh. The wound was close to a year old, from what she remembered reading in the newspaper article—a permanent scar that had left the muscle sunken in, which explained why he limped. The paper claimed he could have lost his leg if the ordeal had dragged on another day.
When he slid the plate onto the table, she redirected her attention to his handsome dark eyes. Smiling, she asked, "Are you feeding me?"
"I cooked. You're feeding us. If we're going to survive the night, we're going to need the protein." He placed two glasses of water on the table, then sat beside her. Leaning close, he stole a kiss. "You okay? Feel all right?"
What he was asking her was if she was sore or if he'd hurt her. But he hadn't hurt her, not at all. And if she was sore, it was a good kind of awareness that reminded her of just how much she loved this man. He was always careful, even when the passion stole his breath and made him human. It was the one thing that continued to convince Kristen that Blu duFray was a good man, a decent man.
Look for a man who is good clean through, Krissy. Be picky, darlin'. Make sure he's good, bone-deep.
The aging male voice was back, but like before, no familiar face or name followed the wise words spoken.
Kristen picked up the fork loaded with eggs. "I'm fine. More than fine. Now, open your mouth."
She offered him the eggs and he ate them. While he sipped coffee between mouthfuls, he said, "We need to talk, you think?"
"Yes," Kristen agreed. "We need to talk."
"Before or after I make love to you in the Gulf."
"In the Gulf? It's dark out."
"I won't let anything happen to you."
"I know." Then she set down the fork and opened the sheet.
* * *
It was after midnight when Kristen followed Blu back into the bedroom. "I thought we were going to talk," she said, swatting Blu's hand away from her backside.
They had spent an hour making love in the Gulf. Then Blu had talked her into sharing the shower. It had rained heaven in that small shower for another hour.
"We can talk in here."
"But we won't talk, will we?"
He grinned. "Sure we will."
Kristen eyed his powerful naked body as he sprawled on the bed, his long, durable legs spread wide, his arousal already on the move.
She picked up her panties. "We're going to talk."
"As soon as you come here," he agreed. "Forget those." He gestured to the silk in her hand.
"Blu…"
He didn't beg, didn't say anything more. He simply looked at her, the heat in his eyes melting her insides. Kristen dropped the panties and slipped into the bed on her hands and knees. Without reservation, she crawled between his legs, snuggled into him, and laid her head on his hard chest.
Neither spoke as Blu began to stroke her hair. Finally he said, "Tomorrow I want you to stay on the Nightwing. I don't want you going anywhere." He tilted her chin to look down at her. "Promise me. You'll give me forty-eight hours."
There was something in his heavy voice that alarmed her, and Kristen sat up. "You know more than you're telling me. This so-called information… You have it already, don't you?"
He tried to pull her back against him, but Kristen refused to be placated. She scrambled off the bed before he could stop her. "Tell me, dammit! I deserve to know what's going on."
"I've got it on good authority that Salva will be showing up here in a day or two."
"He's coming?" She mumbled the words, felt a chill race the length of her spine. "And when were you going to tell me this?"
He swung his legs to the floor. "I wasn't going to if I could help it."
Furious, she snapped, "I had a right to know the minute you found out. This is my life. Mine and Amanda's. I have a right to know everything, damn you! Everything about who you really are, too."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't play stupid. I know about … about your other job."
He went very still. "Just what do you think you know?"
"'Trust me,' that's what you said. 'I'm the right man to trust.' Well, I know your secret, Blu. I know why you could make that claim. Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me?"
"Dammit!" He was off the bed in an instant. "If you know, then why in hell did you let me—" He gestured to the bed. "We just spent hours there." He turned his back on her and went searching for his jeans. Pulling them on, he spun around. "How did you find out?"
"Your mother."
"What!" His shock was obvious. "She told you that I— What exactly did she say?"
"She didn't actually say anything." Kristen gauged his growing anger, worried now that she'd made a grave mistake by bringing it up. "Your mother keeps a scrapbook on each of her children. She offered yours to me to look through. There were newspaper articles and pictures. Last year when you got shot saving those kids… Well, it was all in the scrapbook."
He swore. Crudely.
"Tell me why."
He glanced at her. "Why what? You seem to know everything. There's nothing else to say, is there?"
The look in his eyes… What was that? He was angry, but there was something else. "Blu, please. You asked me to trust you. Can't you just trust me a little? I'm not putting you on trial here. I'm just trying to understand who you are." When he said nothi
ng, she stomped her foot. "Dammit, Blu, talk to me!"
"I need some air." He turned to the door.
"No. No, you don't!" Kristen beat him to the door. As if she had strength enough to keep him her prisoner, she braced her hands on either side of the door jamb. "You're not walking this time! You're not! Do you hear?"
"I did what I did. I had my reasons. They weren't the best, but I made a decision and I'll live with it. This is as good a time as any, I guess, to have you find out what I am. This will be over in a few days anyway."
"Over? What does that mean?"
He jammed his hands into his back pockets. "God! Get out of my way. I need some air."
"You'll get your damn air when I get what I need," Kristen insisted.
He gave her his devil's stare.
"That's not going to work on me. I'm not afraid of you. You won't hurt me. It's not in you to hurt me. That other man doesn't exist for me."
He went still. "Don't look at me like that. I'm no damn hero, like those stupid newspapers claim. You think saving those kids makes everything I did all right? Believe me, it doesn't. My hands are more than just a little dirty, baby. You can't just send me through the wash a couple of times and clean me up like a pair of pants. Don't buy into that newspaper crap. I've sent men to the hospital with broken jaws and busted ribs. I've spilled more blood in the street than you will ever see in your lifetime. The best damn enforcer in the city." He pointed to the bed. "You just slept with the city's finest, Angel. How does that make you feel?"
"It makes me feel…" Kristen raised her chin. "I feel lucky, and safe. Even though Salva is coming here, I feel safe with you."
Her answer stunned him, and he turned away. "You're crazy."
Crazy in love, Kristen wanted to say. But she didn't.
He wouldn't accept that from her right now. He was too busy trying to make her hate him. Why, wasn't clear. "You saved six kids from a fate worse than death. That makes you—"
"Smart." He spun around. "There was a fat reward! I did it for the money."
"So you knew about the reward when you decided to hide those kids and stay with them for four days with a bullet in your leg?" Kristen knew he didn't. The newspaper had written a separate article on one of the kidnapped children. It seemed she was the daughter of a prominent figure out east. He'd offered a sizable reward after the fact.
"Can we get off this damn subject?"
Kristen watched him as he began to prowl the small room like a caged animal. "The paper claimed you went to work for the loanshark to save your father's fleet. It said the duFray Devils were in a financial crisis and that—"
He stopped and glared at her. "Don't be so naive. I wanted easy money and I found a way to get it."
Kristen studied him for a moment. His body was tense, his jaw set. She shook her head. "No, I don't think it was ever easy for you, Blu. I think it bothered you every day, and it still does. Maybe there was another way to get the fleet solvent, I don't know. What I do know, is that it wasn't based on easy money, or a violent man finding his niche."
He swore again, this time in a string of crude adjectives that scalded the air inside the small room. "You don't know squat!"
"I know that when you make love to me I feel like a fragile piece of glass. There is no selfishness, no violence. I don't feel frightened, or ashamed. I know that inside, you are a good man." Kristen flinched at the depth of pain she saw in his eyes. "I won't hate you, Blu. I'm angry with you for shutting me out, and not telling me the truth about this and Salva, but I can't hate the man I—"
The sound of a boat moving in fast snapped Kristen's mouth shut. She noticed that Blu didn't seem to be alarmed. "Are you expecting someone?"
He didn't answer, he simply found her clothes and tossed them on the bed. "Get dressed, then stay here. Don't come up." Then he turned and left.
* * *
On deck, Blu greeted Brodie Hewitt. "You're early."
"Curt got away about an hour ago."
"I thought I said not to let him escape until dawn. That puts everything six hours ahead of schedule."
In the moonlight Brodie Hewitt looked like a badass biker who had bought nine lives and had spent eight. His premature gray hair, and the age lines around his eyes acknowledged he'd once been either a hard-partying fool, or a man who had seen the dark side of hell more than once. "I know, but the slippery little bastard hit Mort over the head and took off."
Blu rubbed his jaw, calculating the change into his plan. "How is Mort's head?"
"He's got a lump and a nasty headache. He feels like he's let you down. Other than that, he'll live. So now what?"
"It's a given that Curt's going to call Maland and that's what we want. It'll all just happen six hours sooner than we first planned. We can still do it. This might even be better."
Blu wasn't going to explain why that was. He'd set the time frame for selfish reasons so he could be with Angel a little longer. But now that she knew who he really was, it hardly mattered when Curt made his call to Maland. The time he had with her had come and gone. It was too short, but then he would always feel that way. He could spend a lifetime with her and still think it was too short.
"This is a helluva plan, Blu. You sure you want to play it this way?"
Blu looked out over the water. "It'll work."
"It could get you killed."
"Maybe."
"Mort tells me she's a real looker."
Blu smiled a little sadly. "Oui, she's some beautiful woman."
He felt Brodie's hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you want it this way? You don't have to be the one to face Maland. It could be me."
Blu faced his friend. "Thanks, but Maland and me, face-to-face, that's how it has to be to work. How I want it to be."
"Then we'll do it like you said."
"When this thing goes down, I want Angel in your back pocket far away from Maland. I don't want her anywhere near him."
"It's your party, mon ami. Like I said before, we'll do it any way you want it."
"Then I'll see you later."
"Wait a minute. Where are you going?"
"I need some air."
"Did you warn her that I was going to take her back to Rose's place?"
"No."
"Then don't you think—"
Blu vaulted into the boat that drifted alongside the Nightwing. "Make sure she gets to Ma's safe and sound, then meet me back on the Demon's Eye."
* * *
Salva Maland stood on the deck of the Princess and gazed at the yacht's figurehead. Yes, his beautiful princess was naked, her hands tied like he always enjoyed seeing her. He closed his eyes and imagined stroking her jutted-out breasts, mounting her youthful hip.
She was perfection, his Princess, and the craftsmen who had spent months creating her flawless likeness had been a master with wood.
The more time that passed, the more Salva realized his mother had been right to warn him about the spell this lovely creature had woven around him. His craving for Kristen had become a fever inside him. She'd become his drug, and he knew—had known for three years—that she was the only woman who could sate his unusual appetite.
His cell phone rang. Salva reached into his pocket and opened the compact phone. "Is that you, Aldwin?" he asked as he held the phone to his ear and recognized the man's annoying Southern drawl. "What the hell do you want? I've just finished tearing apart the Florida coast, and I'm in no mood to—"
"She's here."
Salva went stone still. "You have her?"
"No. But I know who does. You're not goin' to believe it, or like it much, though."
Salva's heart started to pound beneath his expensive black silk shirt. Kristen was in Algiers. How? Why? The only way she could have found her way back there was if her memory had returned. "Then she knows who she is? She knows about being kidnapped? About our deal?"
"See, that's the crazy part I don't get. If she knew her name, she would have contacted the old man. She hasn't done that. A
nd last night she looked straight at me and didn't recognize me. How she got hooked up with him, is a mystery."
"Him? Who are you talking about?"
"The Blu Devil. She was with duFray last night. I caught them together."
Salva was so stunned he didn't have a reply right away. Finally, he asked, "Define 'caught them together.'"
"You know, sittin' together at a restaurant. I saw duFray kiss her hand."
He was hearing the words, but Salva was already revising a new, more heinous way, for the Blu Devil to die. The man had been a thorn in his side for a year. He'd helped send his half brother to prison and had jeopardized his lucrative business. His mistake in not taking duFray out immediately was now costing him more than he had ever imagined possible—the Devil had his princess.
Seething, Salva didn't want to ask his next question, but his fixation had him by the throat. "Do you think he's touched her?"
"You mean, had her?"
Salva gripped the phone tighter.
"Hell, I don't know. I can't say it's happened, but I can't say it ain't, neither. Krissy sure turned into somethin' special."
Salva couldn't take anymore. "How much does the Blu Devil know?"
"Too much. He knows she's my sister, and he knows you killed Ben."
"How the hell does he know that? You talked, didn't you, you bastard?"
"They tortured me."
"They?"
"I was taken to one of duFray's shrimpers and some of his men stripped me and put me in the hold with the creepy crawlies. I barely escaped with my life. But I didn't tell them that I'd talked with you, or that you're comin'. You're comin', ain'tcha?"
For an answer, Salva threw the cell phone into the Gulf. A moment later, he instructed his captain to sail for the Louisiana coast.
Kristen and the Blu Devil together. Salva's rage started to build like a tropical storm. He knew that killing them both would be a reasonable solution to this nightmare he was living. But he also knew he couldn't live without his Princess. No, she was going back to the island, and he would punish her every day for the rest of her life for leaving him. But first he would teach her the price of betrayal.
