Shark’s Rise: Shark’s Edge: Book Three

by ANGEL PAYNE

  It wasn’t a high I had often these days, but I relished being able to truly savor its certainty—at least for a few minutes. With Terryn gone—God rest that bizarre woman’s soul—a good part of the daily crazy was out of my life. I hadn’t realized how tense the lady was really making me until she was no longer around. HR had quickly replaced her, but I was having trouble “meshing” with the right person as of yet. Surprise fucking surprise.

  Another shocker, this one more legitimate: the LAPD had wrapped up the investigation into Terryn’s death with eye-popping speed. It was strange but not shocking, considering the rest of the “popping” they’d discovered during the autopsy. The exam exposed high levels of several prescription drugs in the woman’s system. When combined, the chemicals caused psychosis. Well, shit. That explained a hell of a lot.

  The pain in my ass—errr, the detective assigned to the case—hadn’t even bothered to call about the resolution on the case. There was a short email to my attorney, forwarded at once to me. After reading the summation of the case, as well as learning Terryn had no family connections we could contact for forwarding her personal effects from her desk, I’d felt a twinge of sorrow for the woman.

  A twinge.

  Period.

  Which was all I gave the matter now, as well.

  “Hey.” Abbi’s silken summons brought me back to the moment, where I looked up in surprise. We were already downtown, just a few blocks from where Joel was dropping me before shuttling her back to Calabasas. “You’ve been so quiet,” she commented. “What are you thinking about? Work?”

  “Actually…” I chuffed out a laugh. “I was thinking about Terryn, of all people.”

  Abbi startled a little—enough to ensure I saw every inch of her newly probing stare. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Sebastian Shark?”

  “Oh, he’s still right here.” I leaned in and gave her lips a playful peck. “I’ve just been making sure he’s not a caveman asshole when I’m with you. For your sake and the baby’s. Our son.” That giddy grin took over my whole mouth again. “I’m glad the effort hasn’t been for naught, though. That it’s noticeable. It’s not always easy to curb my behavior. I’ve been this way my whole life, you know? It’s hard to choose different actions. To be consciously different.”

  “I have noticed.” She caught my hand in hers and lifted my knuckles to her sugar-pink lips. “But I don’t expect you to change completely, Bas. I fell in love with you exactly the way you are. I love the demanding, commanding, insistent, expectant, respectable man you are. I adore that man, as a matter of fact.”

  “Yeah?” I deliberately rumbled it out. “Maybe you can show me how much you adore me when I get home tonight?” And then guided her fingers to the prominent swell in my slacks.

  “Oh, I like that idea, Mr. Shark.” She stretched her beautiful fingers across the hump of my cock and deliberately squeezed.

  My eyes widened before I could control them. “Jesus.” The bold move was so unlike my Little Red.

  “Nah.” As she kept stroking me, she flashed a saucy grin. “Just me.”

  “Just you who?” I volleyed. “I’m the one to gets to say it now: who are you, and what have you done with my virginal Abbigail?”

  “Oh, honey,” she purred. “I’m no virgin anymore.” And kept rubbing, up and down, my entire throbbing length. “And have you read, in your endless pregnancy research, what happens to a woman’s hormones around this time in the pregnancy?” She waggled her brows at me and gave me a wolfish grin.

  Oh, yes. My girl. A wolfish grin.

  “Hormones or not, turnabout is fair play,” I told her then. “So don’t you ever forget that woman I fell in love with when I met you, as well. I was obsessed with—and still am—with that innocent, pure, kind-hearted, gentle, loving, giving, completely perfect woman. I love you just the way you are. You don’t have to change a single thing for me.”

  I showed her exactly that with a thorough kiss. I had every intention of making it slow, tender, and adoring. We’d always remember this fantastic day; however we’d had so many days go by without indulging ourselves physically. For that reason alone, the heat burst between us like pine needles on a campfire. With her hand still caressing my crotch, I was ready to kick that fire ring and start a damn forest fire.

  “Baby?” I said, still between kisses because I couldn’t give up the high of touching her.

  “Yeah?” she panted.

  “If you keep doing that to my cock, I’m going to come right here and now.”

  Her lips, now swollen from my kisses, parted in an adorable smile. “You think we have time?”

  I swallowed hard—because all I could think of now was sliding myself in and out of those plush, succulent cushions…

  “Okay, Mr. Shark,” Joel called from the front seat. “Here we are.”

  Abbi and I jolted apart as the car came to a full stop in front of the Shark Enterprises building. I looked up at the chrome and glass structure, attempting to summon the usual spike of anticipation that hit whenever I arrived here. But right now, it wasn’t the building spiking anything in me.

  I arched a brow at Abbigail. She pouted her bottom lip, inviting me to lean in and steal a greedy nip at that luscious pinkness.

  “Mmmm. Later,” she rasped and scratched her fingertips over the edge of my jaw. “It’s sooooo on, Daddy.”

  My eyes looked like four-alarm blazes. Yeah, I knew that for a fact. She had me so aroused, the gleam in my own gaze reflected back at me from Abbi’s brilliant greens. “Trying to decide if I like hearing you call me that because it’s fucking hot or because we’re having a baby. But I think it’s the first one when you say it in that raspy, sexy voice and with that goddamn needy look all over your entire body.” I felt a tremble pass over my entire body from head to toe. “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

  “Mr. Shark? Damn, I’m sorry; I’m going to get a ticket if I stall at this curb much longer. You know how the meter monitors get around here. If you need more time, I can pull—”

  “I’m going. Shit!”

  One last, frantic kiss and I was out of the car. Joel pulled away from the curb before I could even get up on the sidewalk.

  Buttoning my suit jacket didn’t do much to hide the erection throbbing between my legs. Luckily, no one was in the elevator when I got in. I reached into my waistband to adjust things, attempting to make the monster a little less visible. If I had to, I could deal with the problem when I got into my office but hoped to hold out for the real deal tonight. Likely, the minute I got to my desk, I’d be swamped with work. That would take care of all thoughts of my hot lady until I got home.

  Fortunately, it did—until a few hours flew by, and I was jerking up my head when Grant’s knock sounded on my office door.

  He and Elijah strode in before I could even answer his announcement.

  “How did it go? Did you find out what you’re having? Banks and I have a bet going, and the stakes are very, very high.”

  I looked back and forth between my two best friends—and their expectant stares. I debated how to respond—for all of three seconds.

  “We’ve…uh…decided not to find out, after all.”

  I almost gave myself away by cracking a proud smirk. Sometimes, life as an asshole really was so sweet. The chance to mess with my best friends was too damn good to pass up.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Elijah exclaimed. “Ohhh, wait. Or was it just that they couldn’t tell? And you don’t want to admit failure on a test. That would be more like you.”

  “For that comment, I’m definitely not telling you.” I pointed at him while getting up from behind my desk. The guy’s impatient irritation was so worth the price of going there. I gave in to a secret smile while striding over to my usual spot in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. My buddies joined me, one on either side.

  “Fuck it,” Grant muttered. “I’ll just text Rio. She probably already knows.”

  But as soon as the ass
hole pulled out his phone, I plucked the device from his hand. I was fast as a—well, a shark—about it, so he didn’t have time to react and defend his property.

  “Bastard,” he snarled.

  With a careless shrug, I said, “I’ve been called worse.”

  “Probably today alone,” Elijah said.

  “The bigger concept we have here,” I mused, “is why you feel okay about whipping out your…device…for casually communicating with Rio Gibson.” I lobbed the phone over my shoulder, knowing it would land safely on the big couch a few feet away. I did it all the time with my cell too. “Is this a normal, daily occurrence, Mr. Twombley?”

  “No,” fumed Grant.

  “Yes!” refuted Elijah.

  Grant leaned back to dagger Banks with a glare, but his effort wasn’t necessary. I was already shifting out of the way, turning to lean against the windowpane. If the thing ever broke, I’d plummet to my death—but that didn’t stop Elijah from mirroring my pose one pane over. The effect was more officious than I intended, with us facing down Grant as if he were a defendant and we his prosecutors, but for now, it was working. The guy was definitely squirming.

  “Come on, Twombley.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, trying to appear relaxed. “What gives, man? And don’t think of bullshitting me.”

  “Us,” Elijah corrected.

  “Nothing ‘gives,’” Grant retorted while stomping to the sofa and seizing back his phone. “Just drop it, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Damn, Twombley. That’s a lot of bluster for nothing going on.”

  “It’s not what it looks like!” Grant spread his arms, turning his long index fingers into a matched pair of pointing desperation.

  “Nooooo!” As Elijah and I moaned it together, we also twisted off the windows in opposite directions, moving like synchronized swimmers in the middle of a routine.

  “You two can fuck off,” Grant leveled. “Seriously. Rio and I have been working together in that damn hell-hole kitchen for weeks. We’ve just gotten to know each other. She spends most of her days there. Did you know that? Shit. She’s probably there more time than she’s at home.”

  He mumbled that last sentence, but I heard him. One glance at Elijah, and I knew he had too. “Uh-oh,” Banks drawled beneath his breath. “I think I know what this is.” He folded his arms. “LVS,” he stated. “Totally clear-cut case.”

  “What the hell?” I demanded. “LV what?”

  “Lonely vagina syndrome,” Elijah explained.

  Grant barked out a laugh. “Her vagina isn’t lonely, asshole.”

  “Because you’re the one keeping it company?” I rejoined.

  “I have not. Fucked. Her. Now stop.”

  “But you want to.”

  I grabbed the chance to add my own censuring finger at Elijah. “Not helping.” As I lowered my arm, I turned back to Grant. “At the risk of being glaringly obvious, the woman is married, man. To Abbigail’s brother. That’s a no-fly zone.”

  “Jesus,” Grant spat. “Don’t you think I already know—”

  “Just making sure,” I countered. “Shit! You could have any woman in this city. Move on, okay? Call LuLu. Do something else. Do someone else. Just not Rio Gibson!”

  “I’m not an idiot, Bas.”

  “At the risk of repeating myself…just making sure.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that. She’s in love with her husband.” He rolled his eyes. “He’s all she ever talks about. Trust me, my ears practically bleed from hearing about the guy all the time. You guys are so far off base, it’s comical.”

  “But you’re not laughing.”

  I hated admitting Elijah was completely right about that, but it didn’t negate the point. Grant looked as far away from “laughing this off” as a basketball player who’d just snapped his ankle.

  “Can we just change the goddamned subject?” the guy finally bit out.

  I pulled in a long breath. Upon letting it out, I blurted, “It’s a boy.”

  Both my friends froze completely.

  Then stared.

  Then broke into wide, joyous grins.

  I mirrored their stares. “I’m going to have a son,” I said at last, rubbing the back of my head. “Can you fucking believe it?”

  Grant was the first to react, tackling me with his hug. His arms were around me before I could dodge him. Elijah surged up from the side, making it impossible to escape the group affection. Disgusting. Messy. That was what I should have thought but was too happy to care. We all laughed at the ridiculousness of it. The scene itself—but best of all, the reason for it.

  “Congratulations, man!” Grant smacked my back with hearty gusto. “Tell Abbigail we said so, too.”

  “And everything looks good?” Elijah’s query clearly came from his soul, since he’d been through this before. “All the measurements and weights…the crazy stuff they check?”

  “Yeah.” I clapped him on the shoulder and pinned him with a meaningful stare. “Everything is just as it should be for the boy’s gestational age.” I smiled. “All systems go.”

  “Do you guys have names picked out yet?”

  “No. We haven’t even begun that string of arguments yet.” I laughed, knowing Abbi would want some family name I would hate, and then I’d cave…and so it would go.

  As if reading that exact thought in my mind, both men laughed as we all settled in across the sofas.

  “So, let’s actually talk about business, yes?” I proposed. “As in, how we’re dealing with these goddamned maritime pirates. Where are we with the whole mess?”

  “Dude.” Grant sent over a look as if I’d just asked them to help me pick out new underwear, not a plan for dealing with the scumbags who kept taking our shipments hostage. “I’ve been making marinara sauce and pesto pinwheels for the past five weeks. Ask me how to chiffonade basil, and I got you covered.” He sprawled his hands along the tops of his thighs. “But these modern-day Bluebeards have definitely taken a back seat to babysitting your pyromaniac sister-in-law.”

  “Wait…what?” I countered, staring at him in complete disbelief. “What did you just say?” I demanded. “Explain.”

  “Chiffonade. You take the leaves of basil, or really any leafy green veg, and then you—”

  “Twombley!” I shouted to bring him back to fucking earth.

  “What?” He honestly looked like he didn’t know why I was redirecting him.

  “Pyromaniac?” Elijah and I said in tandem.

  “You knew that.” He pointed at Elijah accusatorily.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t.” I turned to Elijah. “And you did? What the fuck, Banks?”

  He released a resigned sigh. “She has priors.” Then attempted to dismiss the whole tangent—which wasn’t one—with a similar shrug.

  “What?” I whipped a shocked glare between them both. “How is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”

  “Dude. Chill,” Grant flung. “She’s not an actual threat. It’s…well, it’s more of a mental health problem. Well, not a problem—more of an issue, really…”

  “Stop.” I stabbed a hand up like a crossing guard. “Just stop.” Only he wasn’t some schoolkid, and Rio Gibson wasn’t just the “weird girl” he was defending. Christ, he was really defending her. And the fact that she’d been arrested on pyromania charges.

  “She’s just working out some stuff, okay?” Grant growled.

  “Exxaaaccctttlllyy. Isn’t every pyro?” Elijah muttered.

  “What I’m saying is that she’s not out there, like, blazing on a daily basis…”

  “Oh, that makes everything better,” I deadpanned.

  “She struggles with it, damn it. She’s got some demons.”

  “Again. Don’t we all?”

  “Exactly.” Grant looked over, actually thinking Elijah’s quip had been on the level, which hammered me with an undeniable truth. Grant Twombley had it bad for Rio Gibson. God help us all.

  “It’s just that the way she
deals with hers can lead to a felony arrest. She needs to be in treatment, but even her husband doesn’t know about the problem. No one in that perfect little family she married into does—so she’s been struggling alone.”

  “Until you came along?” I asked.

  “Something like that.” He shrugged, but the gesture looked awkward on his broad, usually dominant frame. Grant Twombley didn’t fucking shrug.

  “So who could use a bottle of water? Or something even stiffer?”

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “It’s like herding cats around here.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid I’m not going to have much more to offer.” Elijah handed us both bottles of water before sitting on the arm of the sofa. “I’d like to wrap up the investigation with the keychain and then dig more into the pirate mess. I know public relations has been all over it while we’ve been away, so check in with them.”

  My friends both stood to leave.

  “Congrats again, man,” Elijah said one last time, and then they both left.

  After the guys left, I got back to work with a vengeance. In the after-hours stillness of the building, I was able to work efficiently. I cleared my email inbox and worked on a spreadsheet of projected expenses for the Edge’s construction until my eyes began to cross. When I looked at the clock on the wall, I realized it was closing in on seven o’clock, and I was more than satisfied with the day I’d put in. I texted Joel that I was ready to head home, and since I’d worked late, we should avoid a good amount of rush hour traffic. Then I sent a text to Abbigail to see if she needed anything before I headed out of downtown.

  Leaving the office. Do you need me to stop anywhere?

  Nope. Dori’s been great.

  See you soon. Wear something blue tonight.

  When I got home, I went straight to our bedroom—but my woman was nowhere to be found. The bathroom was empty too.