They’d spent the most of their time ensconced in their room, making love, ordering delivery, then more making love. Ida shot him a sly look one morning when he went down to the inn’s dining room to take food back to their room. Why let Grace waste her time dressing when he preferred her naked and splayed out on the bed. Although he did let her up for air and took her to the top Texas barbecue place the night before. That day they were going to a swanky restaurant inspired by the mixed cultures of Houston. The chef boasted New American Creole cuisine emphasizing farm-to-table ideology that was so popular nowadays.
Grace, being pregnant and always hungry, was excited to go.
Matt was happy to make her happy. He watched her undetected for a few seconds longer and the walls of his chest squeezed. Fuck, he was becoming a lovesick fool. Well, as long as no one could see him right now and revoke his man card, he was damned well fine with that.
On second thought, he didn’t give a shit.
All that mattered was his wife and their child growing in her belly. He’d just checked online on what to expect of the baby’s size in comparison to a fruit or vegetable. A pea. His baby was still the size of a pea. Jesus.
When he opened the French doors, Grace glanced sideways and smiled at him. He nearly stumbled as he walked through the balcony entrance. It was this damned inn, the floors were uneven, but so, it seemed, was his breathing. He wasn’t lying when he said he could watch her sleeping for hours. And awake? With those emerald eyes of hers that turned stormy when she was pissed or luminous when she was happy? He could lose himself in them for an eternity. He realized he could wax lyrical about her, but, in all honesty, he could also wax debauched thoughts about her just by staring at her lips—full bottom lip, cupid bow upper lip, a generous mouth meant for sucking his aching cock.
Grace’s brow lifted sardonically. “I think your warm thoughts just took a depraved turn there, husband.” Her smile was smug.
“You know me so well there, wife,” he mocked in return. Reaching where she was sitting, he frowned. “Where are the rest of your clothes?”
Grace looked down at what she was wearing.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“I can see the shadow of your nipples from up here,” Matt growled. He was exaggerating but too much of her tits were showing.
“It’s hard to wear a bra with the cut of this neck line,” Grace explained patiently. The neckline she was talking about was non-existent because it was one of those off-the shoulder dresses.
“That’s not gonna fall, is it?” Matt asked suspiciously.
She rolled her eyes and stood up, doing a twirl around the balcony to prove that her dress was meant to stay up. It was a ruby-red, flowy dress that hit at her mid-thigh.
“You do realize I’ll have to beat up every punk who’s gonna leer at you?”
“Oh, unlike the way you just looked at me.”
He scowled. “I have the right to look at you any way I please. I’m your damned husband.”
“So you keep reminding me.”
“Maybe we should stay in.” He would love for her to ride his dick right here on the balcony.
Grace eyed him dubiously. “We don’t match.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re wearing faded jeans, biker boots, and some heavy metal tee.”
“It’s a vintage shirt, babe. I paid quite a buck for this. Do you want me to throw on some prissy polo shirt? I have one of those in the suitcase somewhere.” Matt kept his chuckle at bay. The place they were going to was casual, but the food was anything but.
Grace’s pained expression nearly broke his resolve not to laugh. “No. I’d rather you wear what’s comfortable for you.”
“I clean up nicely, you know,” he teased.
“I have no doubt,” she said. Then, with a gleam in her eyes, she added. “I don’t mind playing the lady and the biker.”
He groaned and dragged her softness into his hardness. “Woman, you’re killing me. I have half a mind to just cancel dinner and fuck you right now, right here.”
The answering growl in her stomach sent him rumbling with laughter
“Guess the baby says you need to feed her first,” Grace giggled. It did not escape him that she’d been referring to their kid in the female form.
“He’s the size of a pea,” Matt answered. “How much food does he need?”
“You never fail to impress me, Mr. Foster. We’ll make a devoted father of you yet,” Grace said jokingly, but was obviously pleased.
Matt lowered his mouth to her ear. “Oh, I’m going to impress you soon. Very soon.”
He grinned as he felt a shiver go through her.
*****
“Fuck, shit, fuck,” Matt groaned as Grace slammed herself down on his cock.
They’d returned from dinner and went out on the balcony to “finish” their evening. The temptress started the seduction in the restaurant. By the time the biscuit strawberry shortcake landed in front of Grace, Matt was ready to drag her out of there. As he drank two fingers of Scotch, she carefully slid a spoon full of cream in her mouth. Then, she’d slowly pull the spoon out and lick the back of the spoon, deliberately smearing cream on her top lip. Her pink tongue swooped out to lick the cream off, looking at him with naughty green eyes, before dipping her spoon back into her strawberry shortcake.
For someone who had had no alcohol, she’d been quite aggressive. Pushing him backward through the French doors and straight for the settee and without even kissing him, she’d unbuttoned his jeans, lowered his zipper and released his aching cock. She shoved him onto the bench, mounted him and impaled herself onto his shaft.
“Babe, you gotta move,” he groaned.
“Suck me,” she demanded as she thrust her almost bare breasts millimeters from his face.
That was certainly no hardship. His thoughts were almost savage as he ripped the top of her dress. She gasped and slid up, the squeeze of her pussy almost causing him to stroke. He caught a mouthful of tit and sucked, swirling his tongue around the nipple and grazing his teeth. Then she slammed down on him again and started rocking back and forth.
He released her tit. “Babe, you gotta slow down or I’m gonna be—”
Desperately, he grabbed her hips. “Slow down, dammit,” he hissed.
“Stop being such a control freak,” she moaned. Her hair was wild over her face and Matt wasn’t having it. He wanted to watch her while she fell apart fucking him.
With his other hand, he gathered her hair and fisted it behind her head. This caused her neck to be exposed while he watched her bounce on top of him. Her back slightly arched from the way he held her hair. Grace was fucking him, yet he was dominating and setting the pace.
The feel of her softness pressing against him, the wet slide of her pussy around his girth, the risk of a voyeur watching them from the woods, threatened to make him come before he was ready. Matt gritted his teeth. “Get there, babe.”
“I love the feel of you,” she whined.
“Dammit, Grace, get there before I take over.”
“Baby,” she moaned. “A little longer …”
“Fuck it.”
He grabbed her ass and stood up. With him still buried deep inside her, he prayed he wouldn’t trip over his loose jeans, and marched her back into their bedroom. He dropped them to the bed, taking the fall, before flipping and dislodging her. Keeping her legs apart, he buried his tongue in her pussy and licked the slickness off her.
“Damn, now that’s dessert,” he growled. He let his tongue rough up her clit and ravenously collected the gush of her arousal. Her fingers gripped his hair as she finally came on a scream. Matt was so hard, he felt like he was carrying lead between his legs. He crawled up her body, slammed his mouth down to kiss her and slammed his cock back inside her. He held one of her legs up, relishing the feel of opening her up to him. It didn’t take him long. Just as she moaned again, his own climax ripped through his spine a
nd blinded him with its intensity.
He could feel his heart in his throat as he collapsed beside her. Somehow, he managed to roll her on top of him. He needed this skin-to-skin contact after what they had just shared. He wasn’t ready to let her go.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Matt’s lips tipped up. “Wow,” he mumbled back.
“Is it my imagination or is it only getting better?”
“I feel it too, babe.”
“Will it always be this way?”
“Not sure I understand, babe,” Matt yawned. She pushed up and slapped him on the chest. He could feel her glare on him in the relative darkness. The only light was from the moonlight that darted in from the French windows.
“What the fuck?” Matt muttered.
“Do not be a typical male and fall asleep after sex.”
“Are you gonna start naggin’ ?” Matt was teasing, but, apparently, Grace didn’t think it was funny. She huffed and tried to roll off him. Instead, he switched their positions and trapped her by holding her wrists over her head and pinning her lower body with his torso and hips.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Hey,” Matt chided. “None of that now.”
“I don’t know why I married you.”
“You married me because you love me,” Matt said, then hurriedly added before she got further pissed. “And because I love you, too.” He buried his face into her hair. “Come on, gypsy,” he groaned. “I was teasing. Let’s not fight.”
He felt her relax. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “My emotions are all over the place.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I got you, Grace.”
And he slowly made love to her all over again.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Grace
Dallas was anti-climactic. In retrospect, we probably should have retrieved the flash drive first and then spent time at Ida’s Inn. My anxiety that had hung over our three-day interlude turned out to be unfounded ,and it was my faith in Matt that let me relax enough not to ruin our time together by bitching about getting to Dallas.
I knew it was irresponsible, treating this flash drive as a thorn in my side, when all I wanted was to ask Matt to take me away from all this madness. Priorities changed when you loved someone and you were responsible for a life growing inside you, but people died to get this information to me.
Antonio Escobar’s cousin wasn’t really his cousin which was why it was hard to link them. He was another distributor for the Carillo Cartel who wanted out. He’d made a good life for himself going back to college and was finishing his law degree, working part-time as a bank teller at The Veritas Bank of Dallas. In exchange for helping Escobar, his name was taken off the list. These were the stories I wanted to hear. I realized people made mistakes, but they needed to prove to me that they were willing to walk the straight and narrow afterward. Escobar’s “cousin” lost his older brother to the Carillo Cartel and made the decision that his remaining younger siblings weren’t going to live a life dictated by the criminal underworld. So, he moved his family from El Paso to Dallas and started a new life. Apparently, this whole plan between Escobar and his “cousin” had been two years in the making.
His “cousin” was saddened by the accountant’s death. It had been a Hail Mary plan to begin with. Escobar still had family in El Paso. His “cousin” said he would send word to the accountant’s family about his death.
Our flight from Dallas back to Atlanta was uneventful. Lucas and Colt met us at the latter’s Atlanta condo so we could backup the memory stick to a repository on the Dark Web.
I removed Troy’s name from the list on the flash drive much to Matt and Colt’s objection, but I argued that I had the unedited one stored away, so I still had leverage until I figured out if Troy betrayed me. After I had time to calm down, I realized it could be any of his men, but I knew they’d been with him for a long time. Still, not all of them wanted to get out of moving drugs for the Carillo Cartel. That much Troy had told me.
All I had to do was contact the DEA Administrator and the Attorney General and relieve myself of this burden, and The Reaper would come for me. No more cat and mouse. Matt and I would be ready.
We should have expected the shit storm that awaited us in Misty Grove.
*****
“Your boss showed up the other day.”
This was the first news that greeted us when we pulled up at the garage on Sunday evening.
“Elliot showed up here?” I verified. Roger nodded, but I was more alarmed at the bruises on his face, which my husband immediately addressed.
“What happened to you?” Matt demanded, stepping down from the pickup and rounding the vehicle to get to my side of the door. His eyes never left Roger though.
“Cristiano and some of Troy’s crew demanded to see Grace,” Roger replied, lightly touching his jaw where the bruise was darker. “I told him I didn’t know where you were. That’s the truth anyway.”
“And he beat you up for that? That son of a bitch,” Matt growled, yanking his phone from his back pocket and thumbing through his list. He opened my door as he held his phone to his ear. I jumped down from the pickup and leaned against it, anxiously waiting for his call to go through.
“Boss, it’s no big deal.” Roger tried to appease Matt. “I was a bit of a smart ass.”
“I’ll decide what’s a big deal or not,” my husband snapped. “Troy. Foster.” He listened for a while before he cut the biker off. “I don’t give a shit what you’re thinking, but Cristiano laying a hand on Roger is an offense to me.” He paused again. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fine. Get your ass over here, and we’ll talk. Alone. Not sure if it’s a good idea to bring Cristiano with you because I might shoot him on sight,” Matt threatened, then ended the call.
“You need to calm down, boss. It’s just a few punches and Axe stopped him.”
“Where’s Axe? In fact, where’s everyone?” Matt asked, grabbing our suitcases and walking into the garage.
“It’s Sunday, boss,” Roger reminded him.
“You’re right,” Matt muttered, dropping the luggage on the bottom of the stairs leading up to the loft. He turned to me. “Grace, I’m sorry if you don’t want to talk to Troy right now, but he’s on his way.”
“I figured that,” I replied dryly.
“If you want me to stall, I will,” Matt said. “But it’s no use denying anything. Someone spotted us at the Dallas airport.”
“What?”
“I’m not surprised,” he shrugged. “The moment Troy realized we’d disappeared, he probably called out surveillance from his contacts.”
“Damn. Does that mean El Segador knows, too?”
“Probably,” Matt said. “That’s why we need to get Troy on our side. Somehow, I don’t see him setting you up. He’s got too much to lose.”
“Cristiano?”
Matt nodded grimly, looking at Roger. “Tell me everything.”
We were all gathered in Matt’s office when Troy arrived. He came alone as Matt requested—or rather—demanded. I was sitting in Matt’s chair while my husband half-sat on his desk. The biker came in, sprawled into the chair across from me, then looked at Roger who was standing at the far end of the room.
“Sorry about Cristiano,” he offered. “He was a bit too enthusiastic.”
“Why send your second?” Matt asked.
“I knew you guys snuck out of town,” Troy sneered instead of answering him. I’d never seen this contemptuous look on his face before. I was suddenly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Matt sensed my withdrawal.
“Grace?” Matt turned his head to me in concern. “Want to do this some other time?”
“Hell no,” Troy growled. “If you have the memory stick in your possession … Damn it, Grace, we had a deal!” The biker slammed his palm on the desk sending Matt to his feet—anger written all over my husband’s face.
“You.” He speared Troy with a menacing glare. “Do not fucking
speak to my wife that way.”
The biker’s jaw tightened, then he cracked his neck as if to relieve tension. “My apologies.” Then through gritted teeth, he continued. “But would someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” His voice rose with each word.
“I remember everything, Troy.”
“Fuck,” the biker swore softly. “I figured as much. The accountant?”
“Escobar is dead,” I stated flatly, and judging from the way Troy closed his eyes and lowered his head, I was almost a hundred percent sure he did not betray me.
“What happened?”
I recounted the events of that day—how we were intercepted at the Jericho Airlines counter when all hell broke loose.
“You think I sold you out?” Troy asked calmly.
“That was my first conclusion,” I acknowledged. “I’m not so sure now.”
“That’s why you guys ran.”
“We did not run,” Matt interjected. “We got married and went on our honeymoon.”
“Some short honeymoon,” Troy snorted. “Grace, you really should have picked me.”
“I wouldn’t push it, deLamar,” Matt warned softly. “I’m psychotic when it comes to my wife.”
Troy’s smile turned wolfish. “Consider myself warned. Now, where’s the memory stick?”
“I have it,” Grace confirmed. “Our deal didn’t include you looking through it, but you can be assured you’ve been taken off the list.”
“And I’m supposed to take your word for it?” Troy asked with a brow raised.
“Yes,” Matt said. “Now you’ll go back to your compound and find out who sold us out.”
“We can do it right now,” Troy responded, standing up. “You’re forgetting two of my men lost their lives as well.”
“We think it’s Cristiano,” Matt announced our suspicions.
Troy froze, then he swore viciously. “It’s possible, but he’s been with me for years. I don’t see him betraying his brothers and getting them killed.”
Saving Grace (Misty Grove Book 2) Page 20
