by Bethany-Kris
Cece likely would have been in that kitchen with him. Probably driving around in her mini Beamer like she had done every morning since Christmas. Catherine would have been cooking at the stove, had she been home, too.
He could have lost his wife and child.
Vlad Sokolov’s threats were very real.
“Actually, it might be more than a couple of weeks,” Cross said after a moment.
Catherine reached up to stroke his jawline with two of her warm fingertips. “You’re tense all of the sudden.”
“I was thinking. Anyway, you know the metal safeguard on the kitchen island?”
She nodded.
“That was the only reason I am still alive,” Cross said.
Color drained of Catherine’s cheeks. He didn’t particularly want or mean to frighten his wife, or worry her, but she was going to find out either way. He would much rather be the person who told her what actually went down.
“It was that bad?”
“It was that bad,” he said with a shrug. “I was thinking with the renovations I might have some more safeguards put behind the main walls. Some bulletproof glass. You know, just in case.”
“Just in case,” she echoed.
Cross glanced down at Cece, and discovered she was snoring softly against his neck. Someone had been tired. “I was lucky because of where I was standing. Anywhere else in that kitchen, or the living room at the front, and we would have most definitely taken a bullet. So, lesson learned.”
“Where did you set us up to stay?”
“The brownstone in Manhattan.”
Catherine made a face.
Cross laughed.
“I know. You hate it.”
“I’ve just … We only use it as a safe house or whatever. There’s barely anything inside, and no decorating done. We never should have sold the penthouse.”
“We made quadruple on the penthouse than what I bought it for. That was a good sale, Catty.” He reached over and tapped her nose with the pad of his finger. “Get to work on making the brownstone somewhere you like, then.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Seriously, the place cost more than our big ass Newport house, babe. Five times more. Even that’s being conservative.”
“Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
Grabbing hold of her waist, Cross pulled Catherine in for one more kiss. Catherine responded with one of her sexy little grins. What he really wanted to do was get her home, put Cece in a bed, and remind himself in every good, sinful, and wonderful way that his wife was alive and well.
And with him.
Miguel cleared his throat.
Cross had forgotten about their audience of one during their reunion. Catherine gave her husband a wink as she put a bit of space between them, and turned to Miguel.
“Do you want me to stay for a bit, reginella?” Miguel asked. “We can work out details on the client issue, and where we go from here.”
Catherine raised a hand, and shook her head. “No need. I want you back in L.A. to get as much info on that Evira Masters as you can. Locations, history since she came to work for my mother, friends, and whatever else. For some reason, I have no doubt she’s still in L.A. as that’s where the majority of the stolen clients are, but for a select few. Find her. Follow her. Fill me in.”
Miguel nodded. “And then what?”
Catherine passed Cross a look. “Well, I suppose we’ll let things calm down here. Deal with the bigger threat at the moment. One thing at a time, right?”
“Right,” Cross said.
Although, he hated making her once again put her business on hold for his nonsense in New York. Cross was never more aware of how lucky he was where Catherine was concerned, or how much he truly loved this woman than in times like these.
Sure, they kept work separate.
They did their own thing.
She was still there—at his side—when he needed her.
Always.
“Besides,” Catherine added, smiling at Miguel, “the more info you gather for me on her, the easier it’s going to be to take her down.”
Miguel chuckled. “Will do.”
“Take off tomorrow?”
“Sure, reginella.” Miguel nodded toward a hangar Cross owned. “I’ll grab my car, and head to a hotel.”
“You could stay at our—”
“I think not,” Miguel said, passing Cross a look and laughing.
“Grazie, my man.”
Miguel nodded. “When this is all over, someone better make sure I have a whole uninterrupted month with my wife.”
Cross dragged Catherine close to kiss her temple. “We can definitely do that, Miguel.”
Or, they would figure it out.
Once Miguel was heading for the hangar, Cross directed his wife to their waiting car.
“Figured out who was stealing clients, huh?” he asked.
Catherine grinned. “Yep, and guess what else?”
“What?”
“Made a deal with a cartel. Not the best deal, mind you. Profit margins will be a bit smaller, but it’s a start for now. Abril is open to renegotiations after a few payments go to her, and shipments go through without issue.”
“Wait, like a woman?”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
Cross made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. Oddly, he wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t expect the news, either. It really wasn’t common to find a woman sitting in that kind of position given the job description and all.
“You ladies are killing it in the boss departments, huh?”
Catherine gave him a wink. “Yep, and don’t you forget it, either.”
How could he?
Once Cross was sure that Cece had fallen asleep in the bedroom of the brownstone meant for her, he went in search of his wife. It didn’t take him long to find Catherine. The yelling helped, honestly.
In the office downstairs—a room that only really had drapes, a desk, chair, and an empty bookshelf—Catherine talked on her cell phone.
Well, she talked.
Andino yelled.
At the sound of a man shouting at his wife, Cross’s irritation level instantly blew sky-high. Still, this was Catherine’s business. She didn’t step in on his. He didn’t step in on hers. That was their thing.
He kept telling himself that over and over again. It was not helping.
“No, do tell me, Catherine,” Andino snarled over the phone, “just how much more are we going to have to pay?”
“Andino, you’re not thinking long-term about—”
“Tell me!”
Catherine rubbed her temple with one hand, while she held the phone out in front of her face to speak in to the speaker. “About ten percent more.”
“Ten. Fucking ten.”
“You’re fucking lucky it wasn’t twenty or more, Andino,” Catherine snapped back. “And if you think you can waltz your stupid ass down to Mexico and get a better deal, I dare you to try.”
“I think I could, actually.”
“Then you’re a fool. Street price can remain the same. Profit margins will take a small hit. Who cares? We now have a stable, sure thing on a supplier. First shipment in two weeks.”
“Catherine—”
Cross was done listening to this nonsense. He strolled across the room, and snatched the phone from his wife’s hand. Catherine didn’t even see him coming until he already had her phone in his hand, and turned his back to her.
“Andino, it’s Cross here,” he said into the phone.
“Cross,” Andino replied coldly.
There was no love lost between the two of them.
“I realize you’re worried about your bottom line like every greedy fucker in this business, but I don’t give a shit. Catherine did what she said she was going to do. She did what the rest of us knew you wouldn’t be able to do.
“She held up her end of the bargain, so you can back the fuck off. Frankly, you could even thank her. Actually, I expec
t it. Tomorrow, even. Have a good sleep, wake up with a smile, and make another call to properly thank my wife for getting you a new supplier. Otherwise, you and I are going to go on a round together like we should have done years ago, man.”
Cross didn’t bother to let Andino reply. He hung up the phone, and turned to face his very pissed off wife.
“Why would you do that, Cross?”
“Because I could, so I did.”
She glared at him. “I can handle my cousin, thank you.”
“Quite aware, babe.”
“Then let me do that!”
“You need to stop letting Andino walk all over you, Catty.”
Catherine straightened like someone had shoved a rod up her spine. “I don’t—”
“You do. He doesn’t respect you like he does your mother. The only reason he respects Catrina is probably because she threatened to pickle his nuts at one point or another. Honestly, I don’t think he respects anybody but John when it comes to people in positions of power around him. I get it—that’s his shit to handle, but you don’t have to. He either shows you respect, or he can fuck off.”
“He’s family—”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Sometimes you’re an asshole, too, Cross.”
“To you?” he asked.
Catherine didn’t reply.
“To anyone heading their organization?” he pressed. “Am I? Do I disrespect people like that?”
“You said it. It’s his thing.”
“Only if you let it be his thing in regards to you. Stop letting it, or I’ll start pulling shit like that a hell of a lot more often.”
Catherine frowned. “I can handle it, Cross.”
“I know you can. I’ve seen you do it, babe, but do it more often with him. That’s the only way he’s ever going to give you an inch to move. Don’t ever let that man think he’s got any sort of control over you or your business. Remind him every single chance you can that he relies on you for something, and you don’t mind pulling it out of his reach when he steps out of line.”
It took a good minute of silence stretching between them, but Catherine finally nodded.
“Okay,” she said.
“You’re amazing, Catherine.”
Her green eyes met his, the color dancing with both her annoyance and love for him. He tossed the phone to the desk, and caught his wife’s face in his hands. Pulling her close enough to tuck all the sweet curves of her body into his, he stole a quick kiss from her painted red lips.
“Amazing,” he repeated against her mouth. “Beautiful. Stubborn as hell. Smart, sharp, and quick on your feet. You’re good at what you do, Catherine. Exceptional, even if you do have a bit of growing room left to do yet. Don’t let someone treat you differently, family or not.”
She nodded a little.
He kissed her once more.
“Never, Catherine.”
“Ever,” she promised.
“Smile for me, babe,” he ordered.
Catherine did as he wanted, but it didn’t reach her eyes like it usually did. Cross couldn’t have that. They had enough going on without the stress getting his wife to a point where she wouldn’t get out of bed, or worse.
She needed to be happy.
He wanted to keep her that way.
Cross grabbed Catherine around her waist, and picked her up like she weighed nothing at all. He didn’t give her any warning that he was going to do it, and before she had the chance to respond he already had her ass on the edge of the desk.
His mouth met hers, and she parted her lips to let him in. He deepened the kiss while his hands skimmed under her dress, fisted her panties, and edged them down her legs. She wouldn’t open her legs enough to get the panties down to her knees, or to let him in between her thighs.
“Open up,” he demanded against her mouth.
Catherine laughed.
“I have been on a plane all day,” she told him. “Can’t you even let me relax a bit, shower maybe?”
“We’ll do all that after.”
“Cross—”
Her panties hit the floor.
His fingers found slick, hot flesh between her legs.
“Are you going to pretend like your cunt isn’t soaked already, babe? You’re like a fucking lake down here.”
His fingers stroked up and down the seam of her sex. He let the tips of two fingers tease her wet entrance, but nothing more.
Catherine rocked into his hand.
Cross pulled back.
“Is that what you’re going to do, then? Pretend?”
“No,” she whispered with a smile. “God, you’re awful.”
“You keep saying that. I don’t think it means what you think it means, Catty.” Cross kissed a path over his wife’s jaw, then down her neck. Catherine tipped her head back to give him more skin to kiss. “Besides, you’re here with me—safe. Give me a few minutes to remind myself of that little fact.”
“Oh, that’s what this is?”
Her sarcasm echoed.
Cross leaned back and shrugged. “I mean, are you sure details matter right now?”
Catherine widened her legs a little more, pressed his hand firmer against her wet center, and grabbed his belt. “No, not really.”
“Good.”
Catherine helped to get his belt and pants undone while he went back to feasting on the sweet skin of her throat and neck. Her palm slipped around his semi-hard shaft and began to stroke him awake as he made his way back up to her mouth once more.
Fist-tight and firm, she tugged on his dick. Her other hand worked between her thighs alongside his. He slid his fingers into her cunt while she worked her clit with fast circles. Not once did he break their kiss until her hand slowed on his cock, and he felt her pussy start to tense around his fingers.
“Now,” she breathed against his mouth, “get your cock in me right now.”
Cross didn’t need to be told a second time. He slid inside the heaven that was his wife as her body slipped into an orgasm. The tightening of her inner muscles sucked him deep, and hugged every fucking inch of him as he thrust all the way to the hilt.
Shit.
Catherine’s pleased, happy little sound felt like gold washing over his nerves. He barely blinked, and he was pulling out just to thrust right back in again. Leaning back, Cross stared down to watch his dick come out soaked with his wife’s juices, and then disappear into her pretty pink cunt. Her fingertips pressed into the hood of her clit, but never moved.
“Fuck, yeah,” Cross grunted under his breath.
That sight was hot as hell.
He lifted his wife’s legs higher until her heels rested on the edge of the desk. She tipped her head back, and her tongue peeked out to wet her lips as he kept fucking her.
Time stood still for the moment.
He was caught between the sight of his cock filling Catherine, and the way her lips trembled as she urged him on.
Harder, and more, and fuck, don’t stop. Next to his name on her lips, he thought her sounds were the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.
Catherine’s hand came around to dig into his lower back, and her fingernails scraped along his skin. His hand pressed against hers on her clit, making more friction with every thrust of his hips. The slap of skin to skin mingled with Catherine’s sweet cries.
“Oh, my God. Fuck, Cross … there.”
Her second orgasm came on fast. He felt her honey soak his dick even more while her muscles tried to suck him dry. He refused to come just yet.
Instead, Cross pulled out of his wife. It damn near killed him to do it. He pulled her down from the desk, and she dropped to her knees instantly.
Catherine smiled up at him with red, grinning lips and a sinful gleam in her eye as her fingers curved around the base of his cock. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and smirked right back.
“Finish me off, babe.”
Her mouth was already on his wet dick before he had even finished. Nothing was hotter tha
n Catherine on her knees, her mouth full of his cock, and her lips smeared with the juices from her own cunt. Nothing.
She sucked him hard and stroked the base of his length until his groan reverberated out of his chest. Again and again until that familiar heat traveled through his spine, and his balls tightened in her palm. He came hard shouting her name, and she licked him clean, too.
Yeah.
Heaven.
Cross woke up to foreign sheets, but the tired ache in his body was enough to make him forget that he wasn’t in his own home.
He expected to roll over, and find both Catherine and Cece sleeping next to him. Instead, he found the bed empty.
The clock on the nightstand blinked with the time.
Eleven.
Almost noon.
Cross stared at the clock for a whole minute before he realized how late it actually was, and that he had practically slept the morning away. For a brief second, he considered rolling back over and going to sleep again.
Hell, if he was going to lose time, he might as well go all in or nothing. Sleeping until noon was a damn good way to start. And he was tired.
Exhausted, really.
He hadn’t slept a wink from the time the shooting happened, until the following day when he finally got his wife and daughter safely back home. He could use the sleep while he had the chance to catch it.
That wasn’t going to happen.
His need to move—a constant restlessness that never left when he was awake—got him up and heading to the attached master bath. He eyed the items on the bathroom counter as he relieved himself. A makeup bag, and a few other essentials were scattered across the top. Things Catherine had dumped out from the bags she had taken on her trip.
Nothing else, though.
Only a few towels folded on the rack. The bottle of baby shampoo Catherine had grabbed for Cece from a store on their way to the brownstone.
The rest of the place would look the same.
Cross actually did like the brownstone safe house. It had a floorplan that allowed for fast movement if needed. It was tucked away in a beautiful part of Manhattan that wasn’t particularly busy, but was still within short distance to his people. The location of this particular place had never been shared with anyone other than immediate family or close friends. It would kind of defeat the purpose of its use when needed, after all.
