Beneath These Chains

by Meghan March

  “Mathieu, look sharp.” He spun toward me just as I tossed the keys to the ’Cuda at him. In any other mood, I would’ve told him not to scratch it, but right now, I had a hell of a lot more important things on my mind.

  “Go park it in the warehouse. Don’t hurry back.”

  Elle turned toward me, and we both watched as Mathieu high-tailed it out of the shop, the chimes on the door jangling as he shut it. I stalked over and locked it.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked. I fought to keep the rage out of my voice.

  She crossed her arms and glared. “I get stopped on the street by some guy, and it’s my fault? I was just trying to get to work.”

  “Did I, or did I not, tell you not to walk?” I asked, taking three steps to put me toe-to-toe with her.

  “Do not speak to me like that. And for your information, I didn’t walk. I got a ride. A ride that dropped me off on the sidewalk—and this still isn’t my fault.”

  “You’re too fucking beautiful for your own good.”

  Elle’s mouth dropped open.

  “Still not my fault.”

  I dropped my eyes to her feet and dragged them up her body. “Those legs, that ass, and those tits? Not your fault. That sexy yellow dress and those pouty red lips that make every man think about how good they’d feel wrapped around his dick? That’s all you, sweet thing.”

  The lips I’d just called out snapped shut—but only for a moment.

  “You seriously did not say that.”

  “Damn straight I did.”

  “You’re unbelievable. I can’t even—”

  “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, and the fact that unless I’m with you, you’re not in this neighborhood. Now that Rix has the spotlight on you, every gangbanger is gonna try to get a look. If they’re from his crew, they’ll look, but won’t touch. If they’re venturing out, then there’s no telling what they might do.”

  “And who was this guy? Was he one of Rix’s crew?”

  I shook my head. That wasn’t the point. “Does it matter? To you, none of them are good news. You see someone, you call me. Right then.”

  “And what if they come in the store? Am I supposed to tuck tail and hide in the back room? How is that going to work?”

  I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the base of my neck. Fuck. This was just one more reason she didn’t belong here. I should fire her for real. And if I did that, I’d never fucking see her again.

  Rock? Meet hard place. My rationalizations started filtering in at Mach One. If I kept her close, always brought her to and from work myself—and worked all the same shifts—then there was no way in hell they’d get to her. I was her best defense against the position I put her in by letting her work here in the first place. Wasn’t it my responsibility to stand firm in that defense? Did it really matter what my motivations were as long as I made sure that her safety came first?

  I dropped my hand. “We work together. We come and go together. If I can’t be here, you aren’t here. If I go out to look at something, you go with me.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  I jerked my head toward the now-empty sidewalk. “What do you think he would’ve done if I hadn’t been here?”

  Elle straightened and propped her hands on her hips. “Mathieu is here, and he seems pretty capable. Otherwise, he would’ve gotten acquainted up-close-and-personal-like with my gun. That’s what he would’ve done.”

  Jesus. “I don’t think jail would suit you too well. Even if you’d get out eventually on self-defense.”

  “It’s not like I haven’t been there before,” she snapped. Her eyes went wide just before she lifted a hand to her horrified face.

  I couldn’t have heard that right. No way in hell had Elle Snyder spent a single second in jail. “Come again?”

  She stood, completely frozen, and I closed the remaining distance between us. Reaching out to take her hand, I pulled it away from her face. “Tell me.”

  Elle shook her head. “No. It’s not—”

  “I went to jail on conspiracy charges. They got dropped when I agreed to enlist,” I said.

  Elle’s voice shook when she said, “A DUI. But I didn’t even drive. I swear—I didn’t. I just … I woke up to the cop pounding on the window. I was in the driver’s seat. I don’t even remember—shit. That just makes it worse. What am I saying? It’s already worse. I can’t—” All my anger melted away as she stuttered out her explanation.

  “Whoa. Calm down, sweet thing. No one’s judging you here.” I skimmed my thumb along the back of her hand.

  It wasn’t anything to be proud of, but neither was my past. We all made mistakes.

  “How long ago?” I asked. It wasn’t because I was judging; I was just curious.

  “I was in college. A senior. The night before graduation. I didn’t walk.”

  “Partied a little too hard?”

  Her expression turned unreadable. “Something like that. I don’t drink now. At all. And I also don’t drive.”

  “That’s why you don’t drive?”

  “Yeah. So there’s no possibility it could happen again.”

  It was the last thing I’d expected her to say, but I had to admire the conviction behind her words, even as my chest panged with her fear.

  My thumb was still rubbing back and forth across Elle’s hand, and I didn’t want to let her go. And because I’m a pushy son of a bitch, I pulled her closer instead. Not anticipating my move, she stumbled into me. I steadied her by wrapping my other arm around her. A change of subject was in order.

  “You ready for tonight?”

  Elle blinked twice, and I decided right then that keeping her off balance was the best thing I could do. Anything else, and she’d always have her defenses up. This way she’d be too busy trying to keep up to remember to shut me out. She opened her mouth, but closed it before answering.

  “You got an answer for me?”

  She bit her lip, which just made me want to duck lower and use my teeth to tug it free. But Elle got with the program and answered before I could give in to my urge.

  “On one condition.” Her reply shocked me. I thought for sure she’d be trying to turn me down, and I’d have to haul out the charm I saved for important situations.

  “What’s that, babe?”

  A small ‘v’ formed between her eyebrows. “First, don’t call me babe. But that’s not my condition. My condition is that you don’t expect a damn thing. I’ll agree to go out, but I’m not agreeing to anything beyond that.” Her tone was adamant.

  I didn’t mind not calling her ‘babe,’ but I found it telling that she’d never shut me down when I called her ‘sweet thing.’ Noted.

  And no expectations. I could do that—because there was no way she’d end the night not wanting more. I’d make sure of it.

  Instinctively, my fingers curled around her hip. “Done, but I have one condition of my own.”

  “What’s that?” The words were laced with skepticism.

  “No expectations, but also no bullshit. I don’t want you lying to me—or yourself. You don’t want anything from me because you’re not feeling this, then we deal with it. But I ain’t about to let you sell us both short because you’re scared.”

  “No expectations and no bullshit,” she repeated. She sucked a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can do that.”

  “Good. We’re leaving at five. Get ready for a helluva night.”

  “Ummm. This was not what I expected when you told me to get ready for a helluva night.” I surveyed the rickety dock with warring uncertainty.

  “Do you trust me?” Lord asked.

  It was a loaded question if I’d ever heard one. Did I really, truly trust anyone? Other than Vanessa, of course. It was something I didn’t feel like pondering right now. Lord looked over his shoulder at me, nearing the covered mooring. He was waiting for an answer.

  “Are you planning to murder me and dispose of my body in the swamp?” I a
sked. The dock we were standing on floated on the edge of the bayou near Lake Salvador. And it didn’t take a genius or a swamp expert to recognize that tied to the dock, under the camo canvas, was an airboat.

  “Would I have bought you dinner first if I planned to do that?” Lord’s mouth tugged upward in a half smile. It was a really good look on him. Hell, if he were a serial killer, at least my last vision would be a sexy one.

  “I suppose not. But I’m totally taking a picture of this boat and sending it to Vanessa just in case.” I didn’t really intend to, but I reached into my purse just for show.

  “So I’ll take that as a no on the trust factor then. And by the way, it’s Con’s boat.”

  “I guess I trust you enough to skip the picture then. After all, you did feed me the best ham sandwich on the planet.” Lord had taken me to the famous Mother’s Restaurant, and we’d gorged on ham and biscuits. Surprisingly, I’d lived in NOLA all my life, except for college, and I’d yet to ever eat there. I’d been missing out.

  Lord gave me a chin jerk and reached for the canvas covering the boat. He unrolled it expertly before folding and tucking it into a wooden box on the end of the dock.

  Another thing I’d never done: ride on an airboat. It was very Swamp People, and not something I’d ever expected to do, but when Lord took my hand and helped me aboard, I settled onto the bench seat next to the driver. It felt a little like what I imagined it would to sit in the middle of a pickup truck bench seat. Intimate. The thought struck me, and I started to slide over. The boat rocked as Lord stepped in, and he caught my movement. His hand landed on my arm, stilling me.

  “I like you close.”

  He was pushing things, and we both knew it. The decision crystallized before me. Slide across the bench and put the space between us that I wanted to keep to protect myself, or stay in the middle, and be open to the possibility of more.

  I was still deciding—debating and rationalizing—when Lord held ear protectors out and over my head. He didn’t close them over my ears, just held them—waiting.

  “You make your decision, Elle?”

  The man wasn’t in my head, but he could read me so easily.

  “I’m good,” I said, telling myself silently, I can always change my mind later…

  He nodded and settled the ear protectors into place. Lord didn’t waste any time firing up the engine. A few moments later, he’d tossed off the lines holding us to the dock and pushed the boat away.

  We idled through the swamp, and Lord pointed at something and his lips moved, but I couldn’t hear him through my ear muff thingies.

  “What?” I yelled.

  His smile widened. He pointed to his ears, and yelled, “You can take them off for a minute. You really only need them when we get cruising.”

  I looked at him in confusion as I pulled them down around my neck. “Then why did you put them on me right away?”

  “Because I knew you’d look too fucking cute with them on.”

  I laughed, still slightly confused. “You’re a weird one, you know that, right?”

  He shrugged and pointed to the bank. “See the gator tucked up near that log?”

  “Holy shit,” I breathed. “I’ve never seen one so close.”

  “Then you’re in for an experience.”

  Lord maneuvered even closer to the bank and shut off the engine.

  We floated toward the log, and I expected the gator to sink beneath the surface, but it didn’t. It clearly didn’t care that we were encroaching on its space.

  “He ain’t real old. Maybe three or four years, at most.”

  I shook my head. “How do you know that?”

  “Spent a lot of time in the swamp in my day.”

  “When?”

  “When I needed a break from watching my back twenty-four/seven or I was just plain sick of living on the streets. This was where I came to get my shit straight and lay low when things got too hot.”

  By too hot I assumed he meant the cops or gangs. I didn’t ask for clarification, and Lord continued, “If I’d only had me to worry about, I would’ve stayed out here for good, but I wasn’t about to give up keeping tabs on Con. So it was only a week or so at a time, but I’d hitch a ride from the city, steal a pirogue, and just explore. Once I got lost for three days. Luckily it was during gator season, so a couple guys found me. By that time, I’d figured out how to catch rabbits and roast ’em over a campfire. It was some of the best eatin’ I’d had in years—that I didn’t have to steal. I’d snatched a book from the library—My Side of the Mountain—and that kid made all sorts of cool shit while he was living in a tree. I didn’t make acorn pancakes, because I didn’t have the right stuff, but I sure as shit appreciated the fact that I wasn’t up in the Catskills where it was cold.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. True story.”

  The gator finally disappeared beneath the surface, and Lord grinned at me as he pushed off the log and turned the boat in the direction we’d previously been heading. “You ready to fly?”

  I was still absorbing what he’d told me, but I nodded anyway.

  “Ear muffs on,” he ordered.

  I complied, and he fired up the boat again. This time, we didn’t go slow—we flew.

  Lord handled the boat expertly, but I still squealed and grabbed his arm as we skidded around turn after turn. He treated the swamp like his own personal racecourse. It was amazing.

  My squeals turned into laughter, and even though I was no longer freaked out, I still held on. Lord’s thick bicep flexed beneath my hands, and I guessed that he liked being my anchor. I’d not had one of those in my life in a long time.

  A glance up at him revealed his small smile, and he manipulated the controls to turn us sharply again so I was squished even closer against his side. I knew in that moment that he was doing it deliberately. And I didn’t care. I loved it.

  I lost track of time as we coasted through the bayou and out into open water. Ahead of us, a gorgeous sunset was just beginning to paint the sky with pinks and oranges. Lord finally slowed and killed the engine. He lifted his ear protection, and I did the same.

  I was laughing when I asked, “Is this where I need to start worrying?”

  His smile grew from a small one into the grin I was becoming familiar with. “Only if you’re worried about how bad you’re gonna want me after I kiss the hell out of you while the sun goes down.”

  I stopped laughing.

  “I’ve been watching that perfect mouth of yours smile for the last half hour—which means we’re damn lucky I didn’t run us straight into a tree—and I’m gettin’ a taste of it.”

  I bit my lip. “When you put it like that…”

  He reached out and tucked some of my windblown hair behind my ear. “You look good like this,” he murmured.

  “Like what?”

  “Happy.”

  I stilled. Happy? I didn’t think of my life in terms of happy or unhappy. I just was. But he was right. Right now, this moment, I had no cares. I was living in the now and enjoying it—because of him.

  “Kiss me,” he said.

  I didn’t balk at the order. I reached out and trailed a finger over his lips. The bottom one was fuller than the top, and he caught my fingertip between his teeth and nipped. I pulled my hand back, dropping it to his thigh. The muscle tightened under my touch, and I reveled in the power of being able to affect him. This man was wild, untamed—seemingly fearless—and yet his body jumped when I touched him. That was insanely seductive.

  I half-stood and twisted, planting one knee between his legs on the bench seat and settling myself on top of his thigh.

  Lord’s groan unleashed something in me. Yes, he’d given the order, but he’d handed control to me. I was in charge—and I wanted to make him burn. I rested one hand on his shoulder, and wrapped the other around the base of his neck.

  “You sure you can handle me?” I asked.

  “If your lips aren’t on mine in less than two s
econds, I’m going to be taking the reins here.” His hands settled on my hips and squeezed. The movement rocked me back and forth on his thigh, and my clit lit up with the sensation. My floaty skirt was completely inappropriate for swamp-boating, but it meant that there wasn’t much between us. I glanced down to see the huge bulge in his pants.

  Lord followed the direction of my gaze. He gripped my hips tighter and began to lift me.

  “Spread for me. I want you straddling my lap.”

  I lowered my head and whispered into his ear as I complied, “You’re lucky that’s exactly where I want to be.”

  My lips hit Lord’s as his eyes lit with something that looked a whole lot like satisfaction. I closed mine and threw myself into the kiss, opening my mouth and tasting him.

  This could become addictive.

  His hands curved around my ass, and he pulled me closer. I might have been on top, but I was no longer in control—and I was totally fine with that.

  I wanted him. Under me. Over me. Behind me. Whichever way I could have him. I put every bit of my longing into the kiss as I rocked against him.

  Lord pulled back first. “Fuck, woman. You can’t kiss me like that here—not unless you want me to lay you out and take you on the seat of this goddamn boat.”

  “I—I’m not saying no to that.” My body clenched with need.

  “Not the first time.”

  “Even if I ask nicely and say ‘pretty please’?”

  One moment I was straddling him, and in the next I was on my back on the seat, and his mouth was on mine again. My lips. My jaw. My neck.

  Thought disintegrated when his teeth dragged down my earlobe and nipped.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  My nipples, which were already hard and aching, puckered further at the rumble of Lord’s deep voice in my ear. “I love the word please on your lips. I can’t wait to hear it while I’m deep inside you, and you’re moaning my name.”

  Moaning his name? I was about to do that right now.

  “Is that a yes?” I asked, my words breathy, and if I’d cared at all, I might have been embarrassed to hear myself sound so desperate.

  “When I get you under me again, we’re going to need a helluva lot more space and helluva lot more time.”