“Well, this sucks,” Cat said. “You okay, hon?”
“I-I think so.” Bea’s voice was shaky.
“Don’t worry, Gabe and Alex will come for us.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Gabe had me implanted with a tracking device. He was afraid I’d get into these kinds of situations. Guess it was useful for occasions like this.”
Bea wasn’t so sure. She was scared out of her wits.
Chapter Six
Alex burst into Gabriel’s office, fuming. Inside, Gabe was in the middle of a meeting with Ren. “You’ve got to do something about your mate!” he started.
“What about Cat?” his older brother asked.
“She took Bea out from my apartment. I specifically told Bea to stay put.”
“Why would Cat do that?”
Alex massaged his temples. “MacGee said they were going out to discuss the wedding. Did you tell Cat about Bea?”
Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t keep secrets from my mate. Maybe they were going out shopping.”
“I called them and they didn’t answer their phones. Gabe, I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Sit down. Tell me from the beginning.”
Alex pulled up a chair and sank into it. “MacGee called me ten minutes ago while I was having a meeting with people from Hydra. Cat showed up in my apartment and shortly after, the two came down to the parking lot. MacGee intercepted them but Cat insisted on taking Bea out. She’s not safe, Gabe. I haven’t been able to find out who the blackmailer is.”
“Wasn’t Cat fitted with a chip? We can track her GPS.” Ren opened his laptop and got busy with his programme. “Give me a minute.”
“How did the Hydra investigation go? I thought you were putting a personal detail on Bea?” Gabe asked.
Alex sighed. “I had them cancel it since I claimed her. I thought she’d be sitting still in my apartment until this is over.”
“What about them investigating the leaking?”
“It’s only been two days. They haven’t found anything yet.”
Gabriel pondered. “Cat.” He shook his head.
“Found her,” Ren announced. “She’s in the Bronx.”
“What she’s doing in the Bronx?” Gabe frowned.
“I’ll tell you, your mate is always nosing where she doesn’t belong.”
“Gather your team.” Gabe rose. “We’ll track her. How long have they been gone?”
“Approximately twenty minutes, tops.”
“How soon can you get a team ready?”
“In ten minutes.”
“We’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
Bea clutched her hands as the car drove away fast. It occasionally stopped and slowed down. But most of the time, the car was speeding as if the devil himself was chasing their tail. Where were they taking them?
“I’m sorry,” Cat said quietly. “I didn’t know this would happen. Alex’s going to kill me for sure.”
“It’s not your fault. I begged to come. I wanted to find Alex’s shooter.”
“Least we know the culprit now. That bastard is very clever. Using Alex’s most trusted man to deliver whatever he was chasing.”
“What do you think Angelo wants?”
“I don’t know yet. Unfortunately, we stepped right into the middle of it.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Do you really have a tracking implant?” Bea asked.
“In my arm. Gabe insisted on it. He said I have a knack for getting kidnapped. He said it was for my own good.”
“You think Alex will come for us?”
“I hope so. I know he will when he’s realised we’ve been gone too long.”
“That could be hours.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I wish I could make things different.” Cat reached for her hand. Their cuffs clinked. “Now if I knew how to open a trunk from the inside, that would be cool.”
“Do you carry a gun?”
“Hell, no. I hate guns. Can you imagine me in a shootout with those jackasses? Besides, most detective work is spent researching and interviewing people.” Cat pushed and prodded, looking for a way to open the trunk.
The Cadillac suddenly stopped with a screeching halt. She and Cat bumped against each other.
“Shit,” Cat cursed.
Bea’s heart hammered wild again. “What now?”
Then they heard muffled gunshots. People shouting. Scuffles. Footsteps against the gravel. The whole thing couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but it felt like hours.
Someone yelled an order. And the trunk opened.
Bea flinched from the blinding light, but the fresh air was welcome.
“Bea.” Alex stood towering before her. Gabriel was next to him. Alex helped her out from the trunk. “Thank God you’re okay.”
Gabriel scooped his wife out. “You okay, kitten?”
“I’m fine.” Cat stood groggily. “You tracked me down?”
“Ren did,” Gabriel said.
“I thought so.”
Alex came up with a key and he unlocked Cat’s cuffs and hers. He then herded them into an SUV. Bea looked around, taking in the surroundings. She saw the two goons who had kidnapped them on the ground while Wyatt and Johnston shouted and pinned them with their weapons. She didn’t see Danielson or Angelo—the mastermind of the crime.
“Where’s Mr Danielson?” Bea enquired.
Alex didn’t answer. He only traded gazes with Gabriel.
“Get in. We’ll discuss everything at home,” Gabriel said.
“Uh-oh,” Cat commented. She didn’t look too happy.
Somehow, Bea had a feeling she and Cat were in trouble more than before.
She was right, Alex was mad.
He was mad on the drive home. He was mad at Gabriel’s apartment when he and his brother gave her and Cat an earful of their thoughts. And Alex was still mad when he took her back to his apartment.
She and Cat had been scowled at and lectured for more than an hour like guilty children about their stunt. She’d almost cried while Cat had taken it in with a bored look on her face. She didn’t know how Cat could be so brave. Gabriel and Alex were downright scary when they were angry.
After they’d finished scolding them, Alex had asked questions. Cat had explained everything. About her suspicions of Danielson and their intention to speak with him. She’d told them about Angelo. Alex and Gabriel had been surprised to hear it. Bea had learnt that Angelo was an illusionist who Gabriel had hired to make him be able to walk on fire. A few months ago, Cat had been kidnapped by Gabriel’s old enemy and taken to South Africa in the werelions gathering called Night of the Lions. Gabe’s enemy, Sophie Veron, had intended to sacrifice Cat in the bonfire. But Gabriel’s trick of walking on fire had distracted everyone until Alex’s musclemen had come in and spirited Cat away.
In the meantime, Angelo, the famous illusionist, knew the nature of the Larousse brothers. A quick background check from Ren had revealed that Angelo was deeply in debt. He had lost his contract in Vegas and most of his entourage. It hadn’t taken long to put together that Angelo had hatched a plan to blackmail the Larousse brothers through Alex’s trusted man.
Alex suspected that Angelo was the one who had shot him on the bridge. Angelo was currently at large, but the authorities had been notified and Angelo was now a fugitive. Danielson had returned to the office with no recollection about the Bronx trip. Gabriel hadn’t yet reached a decision about what he wanted to do with Danielson at the moment, but he’d said he couldn’t keep him after leaking information to Angelo.
Now she understood why he had insisted on her staying still in the apartment and being a good girl. Cat had chided her husband for not telling her this. If she’d known what Alex had been blackmailed about, she wouldn’t have taken Bea with her.
It was well past eleven when everything had cooled down and Alex had taken Bea back into his apartment. Bea felt guilty for defying his order.
She found him in his home office with a bottle of whisky on the table and a shot glass in his hand. “Alex.”
He watched her come in.
“Are you still mad at me?” Bea walked to the side of his desk. “I’m sorry.”
Alex exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “You had me worried sick, Bea. I didn’t know where you were or if you were safe or not.”
“I’m really sorry, Alex. I didn’t think we were going to end up in the trunk of a car. Cat and I were just going to talk to Danielson and go straight home. I didn’t think all of this would happen.”
“Cat has a knack for getting into trouble.”
“Will you forgive me?”
Alex tugged her arm, pulling her closer. “How could I not, sweet?” He caressed her cheek. His gaze softened. “You’re precious to me.”
A flood of relief washed over her. She couldn’t stand the thought of him being mad at her. Bea sat on his lap and wound her arms around his neck. She lowered her head and kissed him. Alex tasted of whisky and spice. He smelt of his signature soap, dust, musk and gunpowder. Very masculine. Bea slid her tongue into his mouth and kissed him passionately. Her heart beat faster. She was immediately aroused. Heat stirred from her very centre. Her pussy moistened and her nipples hardened. She moaned. She kissed him with fervour.
Alex kissed her with the same heat. He drew her deeper into his arms.
Bea felt hot. Alex groped her ass and caressed her thighs. She switched position and straddled him. His cock was hard underneath his pants. She ground her pussy against his erection. That caused Alex to groan.
“Don’t tease me like this. You know I can’t take you for a while.”
“Who said?”
“Dr Adam said.”
“Screw him, I want you. Besides, I’m fine.”
“Bea…”
“Don’t you want me, Alex? I want you so much.” Bea planted light feather kisses on his eyelids. “Touch me, Alex. I need you.”
Alex grunted. He slipped his hands underneath her shirt and skated upwards, touching her breasts. He kneaded them. Bea moaned. His hands felt so good on her skin. So possessive.
Bea reached for his erection and squeezed it. It twitched under his pants. She fumbled with his belt and opened it.
“Bea…”
She unzipped his pants and freed his cock from its containment. His flesh felt hot in her hands. Alex’s breathing laboured when she stroked his cock. It pulsed, hard and heavy. She clasped his shaft and rubbed it on her pussy. Alex groaned again as his cockhead brushed the satiny fabric of her boxers.
“You’re teasing me, sweet.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Mm. I like it.” Alex released her breasts and tugged her waistband.
Bea promptly slid off from his lap and shoved down her shorts and panties. Alex helped her take off her shirt over her shoulders. He hooked an arm around her waist and drew her close. He licked her nipple. Bea shivered all over.
She straddled him and pressed her pussy on his cock.
“Christ.” Alex sucked a sharp breath. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“We need lube. A lot of lube.” Alex opened the bottom drawer of his desk and fished out a bottle of lubrication.
Bea eyed him with wonder. “You keep lube in your desk?”
“A man has his needs.” He unscrewed the top and poured the contents generously on his cock.
Bea helped him smooth the gel on his shaft and cockhead. “Wait.” She blushed. “No condom?”
“No,” he growled.
“I…”
“I ain’t getting younger, babe. Don’t you want to carry my cub?”
Heat seared her face. He was serious about their relationship. She would love to have his baby. Cub. She positioned him at her entrance and slowly took him in. She was wet and his cockhead was slick, making it easy for his tip to spear her pussy. Still, she felt sore from last night. She didn’t care. Her need outweighed her discomfort.
He stretched her open. Bea widened her eyes. She didn’t remember him being this big. Or was he? She almost forgot to breathe as he slid deeper and deeper.
Alex released a slow breath when she took him to his base. The familiar fullness returned. It was so intimate having him like this. So addicting, the feeling of being filled to the limit. His cock throbbed in her depths. She could feel each pulse and the way his veined shaft brushed against the very core of her. She tightened her muscles in impulse. Alex groaned.
“You’re killing me.”
Bea did it again to tease him.
“Bea.”
His shaft quivered, pulsing inside her oily wet, silken heat. Alex chanted her name as he started to rock her. Gently at first. Morsels of pleasure burst inside her. Her head buzzed from it. Intoxicating. Maddening.
“More,” she whispered. “A little harder.” She gasped and groaned, mumbling unintelligibly from the sensation. She loved the way he made love to her. Fucking her brains out. Pleasure was rising, pulsing deep in her pussy, promising a violent release. She looked down, watching their joined sexes, fascinated by them. He thrust. Pulled. Bea whimpered. It felt so fucking good. Bea held onto his shoulders and met his thrusts.
“Fuck.” Alex fisted a handful of her hair as he pressed his mouth on hers, breathing hard.
She clung onto him, her pussy gripping him tightly. Alex fucked her harder until they made lewd sounds in the room. He rammed her over and over until she exploded. Her pussy quivered in small hiccups. She came hard.
Alex breathed out a strangled cry. He climaxed. His cock spurted and juddered inside her, spasm after spasm of his hot cum.
When she floated back to reality, she felt her pussy throbbing in cadence with her beating heart. But it was a good kind of throb.
Bea collapsed on his chest. Alex breathed hard on her cheek.
“I love having you like this,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Promise me you won’t defy my orders if I tell you to stay put?”
Bea kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ll be a good girl from now on.”
Alex smiled. “Let’s get to bed. I’ve arranged somebody for you to see in the morning.”
“Who?”
“A wedding planner.”
Bea blinked. “A wedding planner?” she echoed. “Does this mean…”
“What do you think?”
“Oh, Alex…”
He kissed her hard. “What do you think of a honeymoon in Bali?”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Night of the Lions
Lizzie Lynn Lee
Excerpt
Chapter One
She didn’t belong to this most exclusive gentlemen’s club in Manhattan, but the attendant who manned the lobby had let her in because he was mesmerised by her boobs.
She had a great pair.
They were real, thank you very much. Clothed in the black, lacy, padded Victoria’s Secret bra and a white cocktail dress with a dangerously low décolletage, her best assets had charmed many men and let her nose around places that were usually out of bounds.
Catherine Kovac was a private investigator. Not a good one at that, since she barely had a hold on this trade. She had inherited the business from her late brother Jon. She used to be his secretary before Jon died in a car accident a few months ago, and already the agency was sinking like the Titanic. Detective work wasn’t like answering calls or running the payroll, and she’d found herself lousy at locating missing cats or tailing a cheating spouse.
Her current gig, which she hoped would save the business, was to dig up as much dirty laundry as possible on a businessman named Gabriel
Larousse. Her client, a forty-something reclusive named Judith Rossi, insisted that Gabe, as he was known, had been responsible for the death of her brother, Cameron Rossi, fourteen years earlier in Africa. Gabe was currently thirty-five years old. The incident must have happened when Gabe was twenty-one, three years before he’d started his real estate business.
Gabe was a self-made billionaire. He’d started from nothing, working his ass off to flip the first property he’d managed into a profitable venture, and had built his empire from there. He had also been voted this year’s most eligible bachelor, on account that he’d reached the pinnacle of his success at quite a young age. It didn’t hurt that Gabe was easy on the eyes.
Okay, Gabe was hot.
Like, smoking hot.
He and his brothers, Alexandre and Renaud, were the talk of the town. There must have been some good genes in the Larousse family because they were all devastatingly handsome. Cat wasn’t a gal who used that type of hyperbolic shit in her vocabulary, but the brothers were really gorgeous. They all stood over six feet tall, with signature coppery-blond hair, broad shoulders, tapered waists, and long legs. They could have passed as GQ models. And, armed with deep pockets, they were chick magnets. Too bad they were all socially tight-assed—it would take gallons of prune juice to clear up their plumbing. None of the brothers liked reporters, the media, or people like Cat. If they got a whiff that a nosy PI had invaded their personal playground, she would see her ass thrown to the kerb in a blink of an eye.
She tried to be inconspicuous as the club attendant seated her at a table near the bar. His gaze was still hovering over her chest. She sighed inwardly. It was as if he’d never seen natural D cups before. But who was she to judge about men and their obsession with breasts? The compulsion was deep, as if it were coded into men’s DNA.
She ordered a gin and tonic and threw the attendant the sweetest smile she could manage. She hoped he’d be distracted enough not to ask why she was here in the first place. The gentlemen’s club, Rococo Country, was a private establishment catering to members only, a watering hole in which wealthy businessmen in the upper crust of society could socialise, kiss ass, and plot on how to make themselves even richer. She told the attendant in black livery that she was here to meet her lawyer. He was going to be suspicious when her lawyer never arrived.
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