It might not have been much, but it was practical, and he owned it. Building it had been good therapy too—so good, in fact, it was a wonder the place wasn’t three times its size.
He pulled the truck to a stop next to the back landing and jumped out. Charlene was out by the time he reached her side. “So, this is it.”
“It’s fantastic.”
“Not very big, but it’s got everything I need, and wait till you see the view.”
“It doesn’t need to be big to be grand.”
He chuckled. That was a saying he’d never heard before . . . he liked it. Before he’d climbed the three short steps to the back veranda, the damn stray came bounding around the corner with a strained bark that always sounded like the dog was being strangled. Marshall groaned at the three-legged mutt. “You still here?”
Charlene flopped to her knees at the top step and gave Hoppa probably the biggest hug the mutt had ever had.
“Don’t encourage him,” Marshall muttered as he unlocked the front door.
“He’s adorable. What’s his name?”
“Dunno, he’s a stray. I call him Hoppa.”
“Oh, you’re mean.”
“Mean? Why?”
“He’s only got three legs.”
“Exactly! That’s why Hoppa suits. He’s lucky I don’t call animal control.” He pushed through the door. “You coming.”
“Can Hoppa come in?”
“Nope.”
“Aww.” Charlene whispered a few sounds to the dog and roughed up his fur before she stepped through the front door.
“So, this’s the kitchen.”
“It’s nice.”
He led her though his tiny cabin. It was just three rooms—a combined kitchen and dining and living room, a bedroom, and a joint bathroom and laundry.
“It’s really nice, Marshall.” She slotted her fingers into his hand and squeezed.
A blaze of desire rocketed through him. The damn woman was lighting fires all over the place, and if she wasn’t careful, he’d have to douse those infernos. “Come, I’ll show you the bedroom.” He strode away with more speed than was required, as the room was barely ten feet away, and paused at the bedroom door. “You can stay in here tonight.”
“Oh, no. I can’t do that. I’ll sleep . . .”
“Charlene, don’t argue. You sleep here.”
She stepped up to him. The flames in her eyes licked his libido, and this time he didn’t step back. He couldn’t stand it a moment longer. He wanted her. Now.
Reaching around her waist, he tugged her toward him and planted his lips on hers. Charlene didn’t resist. Instead, she did the opposite. She melted her body into him, pushing her breasts into his chest, grinding her hips against his. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to explore, and deep moans tumbled from her throat.
Somehow, Marshall had become the luckiest man in the world.
And he didn’t believe in luck.
He yanked at her shirt buttons, eager to see the rest of her stunning body again.
She, in turn, tugged his shirt up, and when he lifted his arms, she managed to both lift it over his head and suck his nipple into her mouth. Her hot breath and slick tongue had his manhood begging for attention.
With their lips locked together, he picked her up, and she straddled his waist, resting her hot zone on his belly. He just about ignited at the gloriousness of it. A couple of strides later, he lowered her down and took a moment to study the exquisite woman on his bed.
His bed.
It was a bloody miracle.
He kicked off his shoes, stripped out of his shorts, and stood naked before her. Her eyes were flames, licking at his flesh as they cruised up his body. After she’d reduced him to a quivering mess, she reciprocated by wriggling out of her shorts too. The way she did it had her perfect breasts wobbling delightfully, and Marshall would be happy to watch them do that all day long.
Charlene giggled, and he snapped his eyes to hers. “What?”
“Nothing.” Her glorious smile confirmed it wasn’t nothing. “Come here.” She patted the bed at her side.
But Marshall had other ideas. Her nipples were pink buds, as raised as pebbles on the beach, and they were begging him to suck them. He leaned forward, rested his hands on the bed, and wrapped his lips around her nipple. She moaned, raising her hips beneath him, and Marshall sucked harder. She tilted her head back, showing off the length of her neck, and he released her nipple to crawl up her body.
He ran his tongue from the base of her neck up to her ear, and she clawed her nails up his back. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. Everything about her was sexy as hell. Maybe she sensed him watching because her eyes fluttered open, and when she looked at him, she really, truly looked at him.
An unprecedented notion of completeness embraced him. Charlene was the woman of his fantasies; someone he’d thought would only ever be in a dream.
In that moment, Marshall knew he was falling in love.
Charlene winced a little as she curled her body to wrap her leg over his hip, and with a move he’d never experienced before, she flipped him onto his back and straddled him. Her face was the picture of seduction as she lowered her breasts to his lips. He didn’t need any further prompting to suck her boobs, so he did. First one, then the other. Rolling his tongue around her nipples, then sucking them until perfect buds peaked and firmed.
Her moans of pleasure had his full-blown erection rock hard. And maybe Charlene sensed he was set to burst because she eased back and, using her hand, guided him to her hot zone.
With their eyes locked, she lowered herself onto him. Marshall wanted to watch the show, to take in every exquisite moment of this gorgeous woman riding him, but his eyes closed of their own accord. He clenched his jaw and concentrated on the heat of her sex, which wrapped around him like a velvet glove.
When an orgasm shivered through her body and a surging heat wave smothered his manhood, Marshall hit the tipping point. In one swift move, he rolled her over and plunged into her again and again. In a moment of release, Charlene cried out his name, and they climaxed together in a mind-blowing orgasm that had her tearing at the sheets.
He flopped onto her chest, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, and they remained as one until their breathing returned to normal. Marshall rolled onto his back and opened his arm for her to sidle up next to him. She wriggled up, placing one arm and one leg across his body. It was like they’d been together for years, and he felt the most relaxed he’d ever felt with a woman.
She turned to look up at him. Her lip curled into her mouth and popped out again as if she was debating about voicing whatever was on her mind. He waited out the pause.
“Marshall,” she finally said.
“Yeah?”
“I feel like we were destined to meet.”
He kissed her forehead and squeezed her tighter. “I agree.”
A sigh released from her throat, and she wriggled into his body.
For the first time in years, he was happy. No, it was more than happy.
It was utter contentment. Never before had Marshall wanted someone as much as he wanted Charlene. It scared the crap out of him too. Now that he had her in his arms, he wasn’t sure if he’d cope if she didn’t hang around.
Shoving the wretched thought aside, he decided that no matter what happened, he wanted to be on this ride. They were good together. Every moment with Charlene was a moment worth spending, no matter what the ultimate outcome was.
He glanced at the bedside clock. It was just shy of nine. Time to make the call he’d been stewing over since Charlene had finished retelling her events with Diego. His friend had always been a night owl; hopefully that hadn’t changed.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, let’s get up. I gotta make a call.”
“Really?” Her brows drilled together.
“Yeah. It’s an old friend of mine who I worked with at the navy base in Guantánamo Bay.”
“In Cuba
?”
“Yeah, I’m hoping he can help us.”
“Oh. That would be nice.” Charlene slipped off the bed, and he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her ass as she padded to the bathroom.
“Damn.” He muttered under his breath as he pulled on his shorts. Shit like this just didn’t happen to him. Not good shit anyway.
In the kitchen, he opened the fridge and pulled out a couple of waters. For the first time in years, he wished he had a wine to offer. Hopefully, Charlene wouldn’t ask for one. He plucked his phone off the table and scrolled through his contact list. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he jabbed the number to dial a friend he hadn’t spoken to in years.
“Crow? Is that you?”
Marshall grinned as he tugged out a chair to sit. “Hey, Harry, long time between chats.”
“Sure is. Got me wonderin’ why you’d be calling me now.”
That’s what he liked about Harry; he was a straight shooter who got down to business ASAP. “It’s a long story. You got time?”
“Got nothin’ goin’ on at the minute. Hit me with it.”
Charlene stepped from the bathroom, and he pointed at the water. She collected the bottle, twisted off the cap, and plonked herself down in the seat opposite him.
“I met this crazy woman who needed to get to Cuba.” He wriggled his eyebrows at her, and Charlene rolled her eyes and took a swig of her drink.
Harry laughed. “I think I’m gonna enjoy this story.”
Marshall took his time telling his old navy roommate everything that had happened. Harry had connections in Cuba. More than Marshall did, and more importantly, they were people in authority.
“How do you think I can help?” Harry asked.
“I’m hoping you can point me to someone who can do the right thing for that woman they dragged into the bushes.”
“Hmm. Hang on a sec.”
Marshall glanced at Charlene, and for the first time, he noticed the cute constellation of freckles across her nose. A series of clicks on the phone had him turning his attention back to the call.
“You there?” Harry’s gruff voice had the hallmarks of a lifetime smoker.
“Yeah.”
“Got the very man for you.” Harry relayed the contact details for a guy who was a senior police officer for Policía Nacional Revolucionaria. Harry went on to say that Alejandro Castillo knew when turning a blind eye was necessary for progress, and Marshall knew exactly what he meant by that.
Harry had given him the right man.
They said their good-byes, and Marshall hung up the phone and swigged his water.
“He seemed like a nice guy.” Charlene tilted her head at him.
“Yeah, he’s a good man. We served together for many years.”
Marshall liked that she didn’t ask a dozen questions. It was another aspect of Charlene that drew him in. Hell, everything about her appealed.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“Gotta make another call. But you’re not going to able to follow this one.’
“Why not?”
“He probably doesn’t speak English.”
“Oh.” A frown rippled across her forehead, then she pushed back on her chair. “I’ll go play with Hoppa then.”
“Hey, don’t go pampering him too much . . . silly dog will want to stay,” he joked, and she giggled as she carried her water out to the front porch.
Marshall turned his attention to the next call. It was going to be a tricky one. He needed to give enough information to get the job done, without implicating Charlene. Or himself, for that matter.
With a plan rehearsed in his head, he made the call. Alejandro answered after the second ring. Marshall told him how he got his number, but he didn’t give his name, and thankfully Alejandro didn’t ask. Marshall explained the site of the massacre, how many bodies would be there, where he could find that poor woman. But it wasn’t until he mentioned Diego’s name that Alejandro’s voice hit a whole new level. The impression he’d been portraying of being annoyed by the call quickly transitioned to interested. Very interested.
“Where did you say it was?” Alejandro questioned in Spanish.
Marshall explained the derelict runway and everything he knew about it from his trip there and back.
Alejandro burst out laughing. Then he dropped a bombshell that ricocheted around Marshall’s brain like a stray bullet.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Noah had spent the last two days fighting both the expectation that the police would come barreling through his door at any moment and the wretched nausea that came with that fear. But as the minutes ticked on and his brain leveled out from the perilous overload, he managed to put the entire debacle into perspective.
First and foremost, the onus of proof was the critical element that would save him.
There was no proof that he’d been to Cuba. He’d blackmailed his pilot with the legitimate threat that, should something happen to him, then Noah would drag the pilot down with him. He’d also paid the greedy bastard more than enough to ensure that vital evidence was never revealed.
There was also no proof that he’d shot Stella. Fortunately for Noah, Colt had wrapped his hand around the gun’s handle to finish the job. A chuckle rumbled from his throat and soon became a full-blown belly laugh as it dawned on him that once again, he’d gotten away with murder. After all, he’d been the one who’d ordered the hit.
In addition, the isolation of that wretched Cuban runway made it highly unlikely the bodies would ever be found. Yet even if they were, identifying them and connecting them to him was negligible.
Noah analyzed his situation like it was one of his own cases, and the more he replayed each facet of the fiasco, the more the acid churning in his stomach dissipated. His ultimate conclusion—that he had indeed come away unscathed, yet again—deserved a toast.
He strolled to his liquor cabinet and poured a glass of his most expensive cognac. The fact that it was only eight in the morning was irrelevant. With the glass in his hand, he moved to the window to sip the liquid gold and admire his multimillion-dollar view.
Noah had earned his place at the top of the world, and not a single person could ever take that from him. Not his imbecile partner who’d just ruined his own career. And now that Diego was dead, that chapter of his life was forever buried too.
The spicy cognac put the fire back in his belly that’d been yanked out when his pilot had intended to leave him in Cuba. That was the first time he’d feared for his life.
Yet as much as it had reduced him to nausea, it had ultimately been invigorating.
Noah was invincible. Untouchable. The king of his world.
He raised his glass. “To the king of the world.”
His desk phone rang, and he clenched his jaw at the intrusion. He’d instructed his secretary to decline all calls, and yet, following suit with all his hired help at the moment, she’d ignored his instructions. The second it stopped, it started again, and he strode to his desk to jab the intercom button. “What?”
“I’m so sorry, sir, but this man has called every five minutes for the past hour. He won’t go away and, well sir, he wants you to know that Claudia is still alive. So I thought it might be important.”
An icy chill shot down Noah’s spine pinning him to the floor like a pair of ice picks.
“Sir . . . Mr. Montgomery, are you there?”
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.
“Sir . . . would you like me to put the call through?”
It was happening again. How could that be? His mind was trapped in a time warp that bounced from twenty-two years ago to forty-eight hours ago. Twice he’d tried to eradicate that bitch from his life. Twice he’d failed.
He would not fail again.
With his jaws clamped together, he sat down, grabbed his notepad and pen, and forced his brain to focus. After a calming breath, he said, “Put him through, Annabel.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
/> She clicked off, and Noah listened to the empty line for a good ten seconds before he could convince his tongue to move. “What do you want?”
“Ahh, there you are.”
It was a man’s voice on the other end. American. Noah decided it had to be the man who’d helped her at the Cuban runway. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who’s going to ruin you.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. . . .” He waited for a name. Noah couldn’t work without names.
“Oh, no, not a threat. It’s a promise.”
“Cut the bullshit. What do you want?” Noah admonished himself for losing his cool. It showed weakness. He curled his fingers into a fist and squeezed until his nails dug into his flesh.
“Claudia wants to meet you.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Noah Montgomery. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to jump on that Gulfstream G650 and get your ass to New Orleans.”
“I don’t take—”
“Shut the fuck up,” the man barked down the phone.
Noah bit his tongue, and the sting brought with it the tang of his own blood. This was a whole new territory for him. Nobody gave him orders. Nobody!
“You will meet us at the parking lot at the abandoned theme park Six Flags New Orleans. Repeat it!”
Noah clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Six Flags New Orleans.”
“You will be there at four o’clock today.”
“I can’t get—”
“Bullshit. You flew to Cuba in a day; you can get to New Orleans in four hours. I’m giving you seven.”
“What if I refuse?”
“The footage of you shooting that beautiful blonde woman on the runway in Cuba will be plastered all over the front-page news come six o’clock tonight.”
Noah’s bowels loosened, and a cold sweat flooded his forehead.
“You still there?”
Noah wanted to reach down the phone and strangle the cocky bastard. Just like he’d done to Benita. Squeezed and squeezed until her eyes popped.
Zero Escape Page 25
