The Nightingale Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Dane

  The wind never died down, and the occasional sprinkle of rain washed over them, but sometimes the sun came out and glistened in the water, in the sand, and against Nala’s skin as she and Vincent wandered up and down the shoreline hand-in-hand. The poor man had never been shown how to skip rocks, so whenever the water was still enough, Nala tossed one at the ocean and watched it take two, three great skips before sinking. Vincent wasn’t quite as talented.

  They packed their pockets with shells and agates that would eventually be emptied out somewhere else. They picked up sticks and poked bubbles in the kelp, Nala making heinous faces as the slimy stuff slid around the sand. And they definitely entertained the constant stream of dogs running up and down the beach, happy to jump in the surf and roll around in the sand.

  A break was called for eventually, and they sat on a large piece of driftwood lodged deep into the compacted sand. Vincent still had a stick from his walk and, to no surprise of Nala’s, started writing foreign languages in the sand.

  “What in the world is that?” Nala knew what it was, but not what it meant. She wrapped her arms around his and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I imagine you sitting in restaurants by yourself jotting down codes on napkins.”

  “I do. Especially on my lunch breaks. Never hurts to figure out the next thing I’m working on.”

  “Is that what that is? Homework?”

  Vincent covered his current codes with sand, erasing them. “It’s calming. Some kids wrote stories or drew pictures. I did math. Numbers are great. They always make sense and fall right into place. Only not everyone yet knows what places they can fall into. It always makes sense, though.”

  Speak for yourself. Nala was as good at math as she was at Cyrillic. Which was to say… not at all. Why do I put myself down like that? She stared at the numbers, the symbols, and the equations they formed. When Vincent had his base down, he moved on to writing codes.

  “You should teach me what this means one day,” she said, attempting to sound chipper. “I’d like to be able to admire your work on the back end. Not just the front end when I punch shit in my phone.”

  He glanced at her, but his attention remained fully on his numbers and codes. “If you’d like. I’m not a great teacher, though.”

  “Oh, you’ll find ways to teach me.” Nala squeezed his arm and rubbed her cheek against his sweatshirt. Damn, it really smells like him. “I’m really susceptible to certain forms of tutoring. You have no idea.”

  That made Vincent keep a careful hold on his stick. “Sounds like you would get constantly distracted. Or I would.”

  “Shut up!” Nala drew her legs up on log and practically climbed on Vincent’s back, her arms wrapped over his shoulders. “Now take me home to my castle. Your princess demands it.”

  Vincent rocked back and forth beneath her weight, stick dropping to the sand as he hurried to fish out his phone and take a picture of his codes. “What do I do with a princess once I get her home? Do I get a ransom?”

  “I ain’t got any money. I’m a poor princess.”

  Vincent stood up, grabbing Nala’s legs and pulling them forward around his waist. His knees bore the brunt of their combined weight until he was able to start walking across the beach. “Excellent. I’ll take my ransom in other forms, then. I hear you’re not a virginal princess.”

  “Haha, you’re funny!”

  “I aim to entertain you on our journey to the castle, your highness.”

  He walked slowly back to the hotel, careful to not lose grip of Nala’s legs while she in turn clutched carefully to his torso. On one hand it was so commonplace that Nala thought nothing of it, but on the other she realized that this was perhaps the most intimate thing they had ever done together. That wasn’t sex, anyway.

  It was easy to pretend that they had no problems outside of themselves as she leaned her head against the back of his and watched the ocean continue to fold upon itself. The ocean didn’t care about the affairs of men and women. It didn’t care that there were powerful, evil people who made others’ lives hell. All it cared about was the moon’s gravity and the creatures swimming within.

  Vincent let her down when they reached the hotel. Once they were outside their door, however, he pulled her back up into his arms, mumbling something about claiming his ransom.

  “I wanna make love,” Nala muttered, her body floating through the air before Vincent lowered her to their bed. “You know what I mean.”

  He loomed over her, his countenance too kind to be real. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “That you know what I mean?”

  “Yes. That.” His following kiss was exactly what Nala wanted. No, needed.

  Foreplay had never been so slow, so gentle. Vincent’s hands lightly touched Nala’s body, teasing her here, taunting her there. Every time she sighed, he kissed her, sometimes pulling off an article of clothing and other times acting as if he would put them on again. When Nala tired of his teasing, she yanked off her clothes herself – and then his, happy to see his familiar body be anything but rough for once.

  Now it was her turn to cover his body in kisses. Now it was his turn to lay back and learn what it was like to be doted on for a change. Even so, Vincent didn’t let her get far, for he had every intention of smothering her with his affection. Even though Nala wanted to protest, she didn’t, because this suited her fine. Particularly the part where Vincent disappeared between her legs and lovingly took her to the height of pleasure with nothing but his tongue.

  “Shit,” he said afterward, kneeling between her legs and unzipping his jeans. “I forgot a condom.”

  Nala rolled her eyes. “It’s a bit late for that. I’m back on the pill again. If I’m already pregnant, then I am. You ain’t knocking me up today, though. I ain’t worrying about it until my body tells me otherwise.” Nala was sure as hell not lingering on that today. I’ll cross that bridge if we ever get to it.

  “Did you take those tests?”

  Nala shook her head. “I’ll do it when we get back. My period’s not due for another couple of weeks so I guess I should.” She tsked in her throat. “What are you waiting for? Besides, I don’t want to use a condom. If I’m making love to my boyfriend, I want to properly feel him, damnit.”

  “As it so happens,” Vincent growled, delectably, as he slowly pushed her into the bed, “I prefer the same.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Nala turned her head, letting him gently suck the side of her throat as he guided her legs around his waist and searched for her opening with the head of his erection. “I demand the highest form of lovemaking.”

  “Oh, so they’re your demands?”

  “Today I’m power bottoming.”

  “Is that what it’s called?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He silenced her with a kiss the moment he entered her.

  Nala had almost forgotten what it was like to make love to this side of Vincent. Just because the sex was more methodical did not make it any less passionate, however. It was simply a different kind of passion: a kind that fueled her with every good feeling imaginable. Good feelings that reawakened her ability to open her heart and reach out to another human being. From the way Vincent lightly groaned into her ear with every slow, easy thrust, she had a feeling he felt the same way.

  It all felt lighter, airier than the very air they breathed. When Vincent sat back, drawing Nala into his lap and letting her control their thrusts as she looked into his eyes, she felt like she was racing into the stratosphere, where she flew high, higher, highest with the stars twinkling in the daylight.

  “Vincent,” she whispered, arms wrapped tightly around him as she moved up and down in his lap. “Don’t let me go.”

  His strength tightened around her as well, lips maneuvering to her ear. “I won’t. I’m never letting you go, Nala.”

  Emotional – hormonal, really – tears appeared in her eyes as she prepared to ride him for all they were both worth. “Good. Now do it.”


  He did.

  The way his body surged against hers, lifting her higher off the bed with every movement, allowed Nala to forget every ounce of trouble in her mind and body. The only things that existed were Vincent and this moment they created together. The more their passion inflamed, the more Nala opened her heart.

  Good feelings. Only good feelings. This was a purge from the previous week. From all the tragic events and terrible news. Nala wouldn’t allow herself to think of any of it. There were still wonderful things in the world, and even a pair as cynical as them could find some sliver of happiness.

  “Vincent,” she said again, her climax cresting. “I love you!”

  He pushed back onto the bed, her voice a loud, silvery echo as his hips increased their power in preparation of claiming her for the day. Remind me that I’m yours. Nala confessed her love once again, bracing herself against his strong shoulders as her legs shook in the air and Vincent expressed himself without words.

  They lay in content silence afterward, Nala’s legs strewn over his and his fingers brushing gently against her forehead. Such peace had seemed unachievable before. Yet now, to the sounds of waves, gulls, and wind, Nala felt so much at peace that she wondered if she even continued to exist.

  “Can I ask you something?” she finally said, turning her head toward him. “It’s something I’ve wondered for a long time now, but I never asked because I didn’t want to upset you.” Now seemed like the best chance.

  “Go on.”

  His voice was soft, but trepidation lurked. Nala would have to be careful with her tone and wording. “Did you and Desirée… do the BDSM stuff?”

  The answer was obvious, but Vincent had never been clear about it before. He either talked about BDSM or Desirée. Never together.

  Now, Nala was told what she already knew. “Yes. It was how we met. A group at Stanford.” He chuckled, surprising Nala. “We already knew each other from our studies, but it was the first time we found out the other was into kink. I asked her out a week later. We built up to it, over time. Learning each other’s limits, and the like. Our first time was… well, I will always remember it.”

  Nala snuggled closer to him. “She wasn’t your first in the lifestyle.”

  “No, but she was the first serious one.”

  Nala wasn’t sure how that worked, but left well enough alone. She nuzzled her nose against his arm. “I was serious, you know. What I said now. I really do love you.”

  The last thing Nala expected was a word. Indeed, Vincent turned over, pulling her into his arms and breathing softly against the top of her head. Kisses dotted her face, as well as the most tender hand she ever had the pleasure of feeling on her skin. Nala took this hand and kissed it, letting it drape across her face as the scent of sweat and the aches of the body overcame her, as if there were no other scent in the world to experience.

  “It’s okay,” she muttered against his chest. “You don’t have to say it.”

  His hold on her was firm, then firmer. Nala couldn’t breathe for a small second, but it was the longest second in the world. When Vincent’s fingers played with her hair… no, she didn’t need to hear the words. The man loved her. There was no doubt in her mind or heart, but like he was not the most articulate man in the universe, neither was he likely to confess such a thing anytime soon. Not with his wounds from Desirée’s death still so large in his heart.

  The fact he came this far in his healing journey said enough already.

  Nala submerged herself in their world a little longer, surfacing only when she had the courage to say what she had to convey to him in his afterglow.

  “I’ve been hiding a couple of things from you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to… I couldn’t face them myself, and you were upset with other things as well. So… give me a second.”

  She pulled herself out of bed, away from his strong arms and toward her backpack. She took the whole thing into the bathroom, where she washed up and went through what pitiful evidence she had. Showing Vincent the picture was the least of her concerns. Her biggest issue was the note left by Robin’s would-be assassin. Mostly the line about Desirée screaming toward her death.

  Nala pulled a marker from her backpack and scratched that out. If this were ever entered into some sort of evidence someday, the rest would be enough to implicate Hawk. Or so Nala hoped.

  When she reemerged in the bedroom, Vincent was sitting up cross-legged, hands resting on either knee as he watched Nala cross in front of him and rejoin him on the bed. The first thing she handed him was the note, freshly purged of the most damning thing.

  Vincent perused it, his eyes certainly lingering on the line Nala blacked out. However, she was glad he could no longer read it. I don’t want him relapsing into that anger. If Nala never had to see him that angry again, she would be happy.

  “This has to be Hawk,” Vincent agreed. “I can’t believe it’s anyone else. The signature is everything… and she’s being cheeky like she knows you well.”

  “The only thing I’m unsure about is who she’s referring to in The Aviary. The person working directly for Crow.”

  “Do you think it’s Maggie? Or Jay?”

  Nala considered the dated patterns on the comforter. “No. I don’t get the feeling that Maggie at least wants anything to do with Crow.” She thought of the way that woman’s brows furrowed whenever she spoke of The Aviary. She was doing her best to bite back disdain. “I don’t know who it is. I mean, it’s not Robin or Lucian, for sure. Hawk wouldn’t implicate Lucian the same day she takes out Robin. That leaves two other couples.” Sebastian and Quail. Joseph and Starling. Both were mostly enigmas to Nala. She thought they were couples trying to get by, but now…

  “I wish you hadn’t kept this from me,” Vincent said softly. “I wish you had given it to me the moment you found it.”

  Do you know what you would have read? He must have, for he didn’t ask about the crossed out line. There was sadness in his voice, though, as if he were forced to think of other unpleasant things. Is he thinking about when he found out Desirée was dead? Was he more upset that night than when Nala found out about Tasha’s death? As least she didn’t scream. All Nala knew about induced heart attacks was that they came in the form of poison. Tasha probably ingested something before leaving work, or maybe her water bottle was spiked… and then she fell asleep, never to awaken again. Poison completely undetected during autopsy. It makes me sick. At least she hadn’t suffered…

  Desirée, on the other hand…

  “There’s something else,” Nala finally said, clearing her throat. She picked up the manila envelope and pulled the photo out, holding it to her chest so she wouldn’t have to see her petrified sister in the arms of Xavier Crow. A sympathetic tear appeared in the corner of her eye, and she brushed it away before thrusting the photo in Vincent’s chest.

  He pulled it away and stared at it for a long time, occasionally turning the photo over to see the handwriting on the back.

  “You remember those photos I took a picture of in his office? This was missing. It was labeled someone named Raven and everything.” Nala covered her face with her hands. “I had no idea… I’ve tried so hard not to think about it.”

  “You said it was missing in there… how did you get it?”

  Nala bit her lip. “Maggie gave it to me at the hospital.”

  “Maggie?”

  Since having sex, that was the most emotion he had yet to show. Apparently his energy was coming back now.

  “So, wait…” He put a hand on her shoulder. “When we were at the hospital last week, Maggie gave you this picture from Crow’s office?”

  “Yeah. She said… well, I can’t remember what she said, but I didn’t get the impression that it was a threat. She warned me about getting further involved, but not in a scary way. I think she was really looking out for me.”

  Vincent looked at the picture again. “Nala… this implicates something very, very disturbing.”

  “You think
I don’t know that?” Nala didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about her dear sister in the Aviary, let alone as Crow’s girlfriend. Because it wasn’t bad enough those facts existed. On top of everything else, there was this picture of Tasha looking so scared, so hesitant that Nala’s mind kept going back to she didn’t want to. Even now, Nala could not look directly at the picture. Every time she did, she felt another piece of herself swell up and die. “I don’t know what to make of it. I have no other information. Tasha never talked about something like… this.” Nala had replayed every phone conversation with her sister during the months leading up to her death. Yes, Tasha was becoming more paranoid toward the end… but did that have to do with her work, or with the unfortunate world she found herself in? Tasha did work directly under Crow. He would have had plenty of access to her.

  Nala looked at Vincent. Desirée worked directly beneath him too…

  It was one thing to see her sister that way. It was quite another for a man to see his fiancée that way. The woman he talks about would have never done that. Vincent never talked about Desirée straying… let alone with Crow! Then again, sometimes Vincent didn’t mention anything at all.

  “This is a lot to process.” Vincent put the photo down with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry you ever had to see this. I will…” he looked away. “When we get back to Portland, I am going to ask around. I don’t know who I will ask. Normally it would be Lucian, since we talk about kink a fair amount and he’s been in The Aviary since the beginning, so he would know about any partners Crow had… but now would be a really bad time.”

  Nala sighed. “I know. I know how dangerous things are right now, but at the same time… Vincent, I don’t care! This is going crazy. This man has got to be stopped. There must be some way we can take him down, even if it’s finding the evidence to take to the cops!”

  “Fuck the cops. He’s got them all paid off, I’m sure of it.” Vincent snorted. “We would have to go way higher up. This is FBI levels of insanity. Pretty sure he’s been killing people all over the country. Washington and Oregon, at least.” Vincent rubbed his chin while looking at a painting on the wall. “There might be something I can do. I’ll have to take more time off work to do it… and it will be really fucking difficult… but if I can pull it off, well. Nothing will stop me from getting the information I need.”