by Gwyn McNamee
“Oh, God, War.” She drops her head back again, and I take the open invitation to press my lips against her collarbone and work my way up the exposed column of her neck.
Smooth creamy white skin meets my lips all the way up until I hit that spot behind her ear. I lick and suck, and a little mewl emanates from her parted lips.
“God, yes, just like that. Please don’t stop.”
Like I could…
22
Grace
He’s hurting. Every roll of his hips, every thrust, it’s agony for him and must be pulling at the stitches holding his side together.
But he doesn’t stop, and I’m not going to ask him to.
God no.
Not when I’m so damn close. Not when every damn inch of my body is screaming for him to keep going, begging for him to push me over the edge to the state where none of this exists—no past, no future—just the moment of pure ecstasy.
Our bodies rock in motion with the boat, rolling and dipping with the waves. Wind batters the wheelhouse, rattling the windows and howling through any gaps it can find.
His hands dig into my hips with bruising pressure. His lips are everywhere—my neck, my face, my mouth. The rasp of his beard against my sensitive skin only ratchets me higher.
We breathe each other in, until our separate breaths become one.
I cup his face and gasp into his mouth. One of his hands leaves my hip and snakes between us. His fingers find my clit.
Oh, God.
I jerk and bite my lip.
It’s all I need.
A few more seconds, and I’ll be gone from this world. All that pent-up tension between us has boiled over and erupted into something combustible. Something toxic and explosive.
Something destructive and beautiful.
I don’t know what came over me. Throwing myself at a man like that is so unlike anything I’ve ever done before.
It was like I was possessed. Out of my mind and body. Watching myself from above. Seeing myself give everything over to the last man who should deserve it.
Warwick took me and my heart hostage.
Who knows what the future holds? Who knows what will happen when we reach Chicago?
But at this moment, we’re free to do whatever we want. And what I want is to come, to make him come, for us both to experience the great pleasure we know we can give each other. To forget all the shit swirling around us and just be.
I clench around him with each glide up and down. The large head of his cock drags along my G-spot with every movement until finally, with the swirl of his finger on my clit, my world shatters.
Bright lights flash against my lids, and I jerk forward. He grabs my hips and holds me to him as he pumps up into me, dragging out my pleasure while searching for his own release.
“Grace.” My name is a prayer. A question. A promise.
Everything I’ve always wanted to hear.
And then he empties himself inside me.
I still and sag against him, my arms draped around his neck and his face buried in my hair, his cock still seated firmly inside me.
His chest rises and falls rapidly, and his heart thumps against mine.
“You okay?” The whispered words against my neck break the relative silence of the cabin, the only other sounds the engine chugging along and the lap of the waves outside.
I push myself back enough to meet his gaze. Those dark eyes have held so much over the course of the last few days—anger, fear, judgment, resentment, pain—but they flash with something new right now. It sends a shiver through me, not because I fear him but because I fear what I want from him so much.
He cups my cheek, and I nuzzle into it. “I’m fine.”
His eyes shift over my shoulder at the water, and I follow his gaze.
“Everything okay?”
He nods. “We’re getting close.”
It’s the last thing I want to hear.
Too soon.
I don’t want this time with him to end.
We don’t always get what we want in this world, but I’ve managed to carve out a little slice of it for one brief moment in time.
I slide off his lap, and Warwick stands and adjusts his boxers and pants. I pull my panties and pants back on and turn to him.
“Is your side okay?”
He reaches down and presses against it with a groan. “I’ll be fine.”
I tug up the edge of the shirt. Fresh blood blooms on the gauze.
“Shit. I hope you didn’t rip open the stitches.”
His shoulders rise and fall nonchalantly. “There’s nothing we can do about it out here. Rion will take a look at it when we get back.”
If we get back…
That goes unsaid, but he is thinking it. The way his eyes darken and he stares off at the water tells me it without a word.
It was the first thing that popped into my head too.
Things could go terribly wrong with the Marconis. We might be taken out before we even get a chance to explain what we have to offer. They might listen but reject our offer outright and put an end to what they perceive as a threat—us.
My hands shake, and I wander over to the side of the console out of his way and stare at the water.
I haven’t spent as much time out here as Warwick and his guys but it still feels like home. Or at least it did, until a few days ago.
Being hijacked, being robbed, being taken…I thought all of it might change the way I think about the water. The safety I feel here. But looking out at the rippling lake, all I see is beauty.
But a beauty that can kill you.
Churning waves and the remnants of dark clouds still drifting off to the east remind me this water can be deadly. It can kill, just as easily as the man standing next to me, the man I just gave myself to.
“Shit.” I drop my face in my hands.
Warwick steps up beside me. “What’s wrong?”
I shove my hand back through my hair and shake my head. “We didn’t use a condom.”
Warwick watches me for a moment.
“I’m clean, Grace. I just renewed my captain’s license and got checked a month ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since.”
That’s some minor relief.
But it’s not what my curse was about.
“I’m clean too. I haven’t been with anybody in almost two years, and I was tested shortly after but…”
His eyes soften and he raises his hand to brush a thumb over my cheek. “But…but what?”
I inhale slowly and try to steady myself before unleashing this on him. This could pull his focus away from where it should be—on convincing the Marconis to accept our offer. This could change everything—for both of us.
“I haven’t taken my birth control the last three days because I’ve been here with you.”
There it is. The daunting truth. One neither of us even considered before we gave in to what was building between us.
His eyes widen slightly, but he otherwise maintains his stoic expression.
This is a big deal. A situation I’ve never let myself get in before. The last thing either of us should be worrying about right now with what we’re facing just down the shoreline.
He offers me a tight smile—one that’s probably supposed to be reassuring. “When we’re done with the Marconis, we’ll go to a pharmacy…if that’s what you want.”
If that’s what I want.
I don’t know what the hell I want…
Other than I know I want him.
How fucking stupid is that?
Despite our terrible meeting, despite barely knowing each other, despite being on our way somewhere where our lives are at risk, I still want Warwick Pike.
But a baby with him?
Jesus Christ.
I’m not ready to be a mother. It wasn’t even remotely on my horizon or within my realm of consideration before two minutes ago when I realized what we’d done. Having a baby is life changing. Having one with the man who kid
napped you…that’s just…inexplicable.
I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions in my life, but this may be at the top of the list. Not sleeping with Warwick. That, I could never regret. It was everything I needed and everything I thought it would be and more. But not paying more attention…
That was very stupid.
“I’m sorry, Grace.” He takes my hands in his. “It was really irresponsible of me not to think about using a condom.”
“No, don’t apologize. I’m just as much at fault.”
If not more.
Something squawks on the console, and Warwick releases me and turns toward it. “We’re almost there.”
I nod and then wander back to the captain’s chair. I climb onto it and tuck my knees under me. “What should I expect?”
Other than the few things I’ve picked up from overhearing the guys talking, I have no idea what we’re walking into. I probably should prepare myself, but I didn’t want to face the reality of what’s to come just yet.
He sighs and shrugs. “You know that opening scene of The Godfather? Where people are coming to Don Corleone and asking for favors on his daughter’s wedding day?”
I nod.
Who doesn’t know that scene?
“Well, it’s a lot like that only with more guns and more threats. Il Padrone is a harsh man, but he’s not unreasonable. It’s his nephew you need to worry about.”
“Arturo?”
He nods again. “It’s been clear he’s been trying to establish himself firmly as the heir apparent the last couple years, and that includes taking a much harsher stance on some things.”
“So, that’s what he was doing calling you?”
He shrugs. “Sort of. Il Padrone doesn’t get his hands dirty. The only times I’ve ever spoken with him in person was our initial meeting and when he advised me that my role was changing. Otherwise, Arturo is essentially the one in the family who does all the face-to-faces and issues all the threats.”
“It really is like something out of a movie, isn’t it?”
Warwick snorts. “Yeah, except in the movies, the people are getting shot with fake guns and walk off screen as soon as they cut. If they don’t like what we have to say during this meeting, no one’s ever going to hear from us again.”
I shudder and wrap my arms more tightly around my legs. “Do you think they’re going to like what we have to say?”
A suffocating silence answers me as he stares out at the water. Light rain pelts the panes of glass of the wheelhouse, and the northern suburbs of Chicago inch by on our right. Still, he doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t think this will work. He thinks we’re doomed and floating to our deaths.
A chill spreads through my body, and I wrap my arms around myself and shudder.
Finally, he turns, drops down onto his knees in front of me, and captures my face between his hands. “You’ve given us our best shot. I’m sorry about the way I reacted before. It’s just…”
“I get it, Warwick. You’re the captain. You’re their Padrone. You’re the one who should be making the decisions and coming up with the plans. I’m just some girl you kidnapped who’s trying to insert herself in the business that isn’t hers and won’t stop asking questions.”
He smiles—the first true, genuine, complete smile I’ve seen from him—and the darkness in his eyes dissipates for a split second. “You’re not just some girl I kidnapped. You’re so much more than that.”
And just like that, I fall even further down the rabbit hole that is Warwick Pike.
He’s an enigma. A man made of everything unknown, mysterious, and contradictory. A man capable of thoughtless, selfish actions just as easily as selfless ones. A man who earned the love, respect, and loyalty of the men back at the warehouse and someone who managed to worm his way into my heart despite his best efforts to convince me to stay away.
A man who has the power to destroy me.
23
War
“Well, Mr. Pike, how lovely of you to finally join us.”
The unease that’s been creeping up my spine since the moment we pulled in to the docks, and increased after Marconis’ goons shoved us in the black SUVs the moment we set foot on dry land, finally reaches my throat.
I swallow past it as best I can and grab Grace by the arm to lead her to one of the chairs in front of Il Padrone’s desk.
The man sitting behind isn’t the one I’d hoped for. Instead of Il Padrone, whose immense presence—both physically and psychologically—would fill this room but at least give us a chance to talk, is not here and Arturo occupies the spot of honor. In his typical crisp black suit and perfectly straight tie, he looks very much the mobster and every bit as lethal as he really is. His hard eyes leave no debate about how this meeting will go.
Not well…for us.
I slip my hand down from Grace’s arm to twine my fingers with hers. A gentle squeeze is the only reassurance I can offer her right now.
“Please sit.” He waves toward the chairs, and I release her hand so we can both sit.
Arturo watches us with his hands steepled in front of his mouth. Assessing us. Measuring us and giving us time to squirm.
I glance around the room. “Where’s Il Padrone?”
The large room is empty save for two of Arturo’s goons—one near the door and one standing behind his boss—and us, but all the photos on the walls and desk still contain Il Padrone. This is still his domain. His empire to run.
Arturo sneers. “You really aren’t in a position to be asking any questions now, are you, Mr. Pike? My uncle is indisposed. You’ll be dealing with me today. And luckily so, because he’s very displeased with the situation.”
No shit.
The moment we got off the boat, one of Arturo’s men boarded to examine the cargo, and when he emerged a few moments later, his phone was pressed to his ear and he was barking something very angry to whoever was on the other side of the call.
We knew we were in deep shit. Nothing in the angry set of Arturo’s jaw gives me any hope we’re somehow out of it, either.
“It seems we have a problem, Mr. Pike. Actually, many problems, the least of which is the fact that you disappeared for several days with our product. But then you show up, and half the product is mysteriously missing. You can see how this looks. Can’t you?”
I know exactly how it looks—like we spent the last three days selling off half his heroin and pocketing the money for ourselves. Like we betrayed him in the worst way possible.
It looks really fucking bad.
“It’s not what you think, Arturo.”
He releases a low, menacing chuckle and waves his hand. “Of course not. Because you would have to have a death wish to steal from me.”
“Don’t you mean steal from Il Padrone?”
Something dark flashes in Arturo’s eyes.
Holy shit.
That’s why I’m not meeting with Il Padrone. He has no idea Arturo is bringing in drugs. This is Arturo’s side game.
It’s never made sense to me, since the moment we opened those boxes, that Il Padrone would all of a sudden be delving into the world of drugs, let alone stealing them from someone else. If he were to do it, there are a dozen avenues he could have pursued to set up a supply chain that wouldn’t require sending us to take it from someone else. It didn’t make sense Il Padrone would be involved with heroin. That’s because he isn’t.
He probably has no idea what’s going on or what Arturo has been up to. He’s stepped back so much, handed over so many of the everyday duties and dirty work to his nephew, he’s in the dark and doesn’t even know it.
That little bit of information could come in handy in the future.
If I make it out of here alive.
“So, Mr. Pike, regale us with the harrowing tale of what truly happened to my product.”
I glance over at Grace who sits shoulders slumped forward slightly, her eyes averted from Arturo.
“I assume it has somethin
g to do with this lovely woman you brought here today since we normally don’t allow anyone into our private meetings.”
And believe me, I would rather she wasn’t here. Exposing her to this type of snake feels like the worst thing I’ve done to her. Considering what’s already happened, that’s saying a lot.
I nod and place my hand on her arm. “This is Grace Albright. She was the one who was the captain of the ship that was hauling the cargo.”
Arturo’s eyes narrow on her. “Her?”
“As unlikely as it seems.” I nod and give her arm a gentle squeeze. “Yes. Her father passed away, and she was forced to take the shipment herself.”
He scoffs. “Well then, I can’t imagine your problem stems from anything that happened on the ship.”
Ouch.
That one stings a little.
“Actually, Ms. Albright managed to turn on the emergency beacon as we were boarding. We didn’t have enough time to unload everything because the Coast Guard was on its way out, and we had to leave with what we are able to get on board The Destiny.”
Arturo frowns and nods slowly. “So, when I spoke to you the other evening, you only had half my product and you knew that, yet you did not tell me.”
I cringe, and his dark eyes bore into me. “Yes. I was telling you the truth about the storm, though. It was far too dangerous for us to try to come down here, and we had repairs to do on the ship, but I was also stalling to try to figure out a way to get the rest of the product.”
“The fact that you showed up without it tells me you failed with whatever plan you managed to cobble together.”
Fail is an understatement.
I clear my throat and nod again. “Yes. We tried to get back on the ship at the dock to get the rest of the boxes last night after I spoke with you, but we couldn’t get past security.”
“So, what happened to my boxes?”
“They’re still sitting on the ship, or they were discovered by the authorities investigating the break-in at the port, or they were picked up by whoever you were trying to steal them from.”
