by Amy Gamet
Sloan rounded a corner and walked toward them. “Fireworks,” he said. “Just like the manifest said. No actual explosives, just plenty of explosive material.”
Razorback shook his head. “They had to rig it to go off when the door was opened.”
“Of course, but so far, they can’t find any evidence to prove that. It just looks like one hell of an accident.”
“And the fifty-gallon drums?” asked Moto.
Sloan shook his head. “Acetone. Commonly used in the manufacture of methamphetamines. Not sure of the ignition source yet.”
Moto turned to Razorback. “What do we do now?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Either there really is a ship full of drugs, and it’s still out in the ocean someplace, waiting to dock, or there never was a ship.” He shook his head. “I don’t buy that one. We know DeRegina’s distribution network was completely cut off when his operations at the Port of Savannah were shut down. It makes sense he’d have more on the way.”
“You think he did all this to throw the feds off his scent so he could bring in the real shipment without attracting any attention?”
“It’s possible. But I got a call from Agent Spaulding with the DEA about an hour ago. He not-so-politely told me to keep my men away from DeRegina in the future and to leave the detective work to the professionals.”
“Ouch,” said Sloan.
Moto knew how much that phone call must have cost Razorback’s pride, though it did nothing to reduce the respect he personally felt for the other man. “So, anything we do from here on out, we do ourselves.”
Razorback met his eyes. “Or we listen to Spaulding and stay away from DeRegina.”
Moto put his hands on his hips. “I’ve got to fight this fight, with or without HERO Force. It’s personal for me. I have to stop my brother before he does any more damage.”
“And what if you can’t stop him?” asked Razorback. “Like I said, you can’t control other people, Moto. You can’t strong-arm them into doing what you want simply because you want it.”
“I’m staying.”
“Then you know we’re on your six. But it’s going to be dangerous. DeRegina and his men are like a bunch of angry wasps, and the DEA’s been hitting their nest with a baseball bat. We go in there now, we’re not going to get away with a few extra scars and a fucking concussion.” He stood. “I’m going to check on Trace. See if we can get his banged-up ass out of here before nightfall.”
Sloan followed him. “I’ll come with you.”
Moto stared into space, the weight of all that had transpired resting firmly on his shoulders. Razorback was right. If they went after DeRegina themselves, someone was bound to get hurt. Maybe even killed. As much as he didn’t want to be responsible for that, he knew his HERO Force teammates would have his back no matter the danger that entailed. They were brothers, even more than his own flesh and blood.
Where the fuck was Ben? He covered his face with his hands and pressed his fingers into his temples. Maybe he’d never see him again. Maybe he’d show up during a showdown with DeRegina’s men, fighting for the opposite side. Maybe he was long gone, running real estate deals in a new town, laundering more of that bastard’s drug money.
His phone vibrated. He had a text from Ben, as if his thoughts had conjured the electronic message.
Confirming our appointment for nine a.m. tomorrow for the appraisal of your riverfront property.
His mind immediately conjured up a picture of a dilapidated wooden shack a half an hour outside of town, its beams damn near resting on the ground. His parents had bought the property the summer before their death, with great plans for its renovation.
Moto had no idea what happened to it after he left Houston, but he knew exactly what Ben was telling him. He wanted Moto to meet him tomorrow morning by the river, and he wasn’t able—or willing—to speak freely.
He texted Ben back.
I’ll be there.
18
It was unnaturally dark and pouring furiously by the time Moto knocked on the door of Davina’s house, his clothing drenched from the short walk from his car to the covered porch. A gust of wind blew hard at his back, bringing more water with it.
He’d nearly let himself in, years of walking right into this building ingrained in him like the oldest habits he had. But this was Davina’s turf now, and last he saw her, she was more than a little angry with him.
He furrowed his brow, the headache that had taken root at the hospital now more severe. He’d taken a chance and told her exactly what he wanted—to be with her again, to share her bed—and she’d shot him down as surely as a target in a carnival booth. Now he was back, weary, exhausted, and drained, and needing even more from her than he had when last they’d fought.
Razorback’s words rang in his mind. He couldn’t control anyone but himself. He couldn’t make Davina do what he wanted, he could only ask. He couldn’t plan what would happen between them, he needed to wait and find out if she’d ever open those arms and give him a second chance.
God, how he wanted it. And not just stolen kisses once a month, after Wyatt was in bed. He wanted to be with her like he wanted to be warm, needing to draw love from her as if drawing heat from the sun.
The door opened, and he watched as her expression changed from welcoming to wary in an instant. “Can I come in?” She stepped back for him to enter. Soft music played in the background and a book sat open facedown on the coffee table. The room smelled like apple pie. He slipped off his wet shoes.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Not well.”
He sat on the couch and told her what happened at the port, the injuries his friends sustained, Ben’s apparent disappearance and his subsequent text.
“I can’t believe Ben would do anything bad.”
“Why, because he’s been such a model of law-abiding goodness? Maybe DeRegina offered him a promotion for doing such a good job helping him launder his drug money.”
She reached out, resting her hand on his forearm, and he stared at it. What would his life be like if he’d stayed with her? If he’d never left her all those years ago, never felt the shadow where she’d once stood, never tried so hard to fill it up with women who didn’t matter?
He thought of his brother, wishing against hope Ben would come out on the other side of this mess on the right side of the law, but he knew in his heart it would never happen. “I need to stop Ben.”
“Why do you have to do it? Why not just leave him be?”
“He’s already hurt people. If I don’t stop him, he will hurt more.”
“You can’t control his behavior.”
“God, if one more person tells me I can’t control something, I’m going to put my fist through a wall.”
She pulled her hand back. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Yes.” She went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of bourbon. A heavy gust of wind could be heard battering the house, the only sound outside of the quiet music playing. “Where’s Wyatt?”
“At a friend’s house for the night. He’s had an eventful few days. I figured it would do him some good to get out for a while.” She handed him a glass.
“You’re probably right.”
“Zach, I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. If you want to see Wyatt, of course you can do that. I let what you said about us get me upset. I think where Wyatt’s concerned, we have to be careful not to do that, to separate you and me from you and Wyatt.”
The bourbon was good, the spicy liquid leaving a trail of heat all the way to his stomach, and he felt the muscles in his neck and back begin to relax. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
“Thank you.”
“Not the part about sleeping together, just everything else.”
She smiled. “I didn’t think you were sorry about that part.”
Her cheeks were lightly flushed, her eyes glistening with laughter and something he hoped he wasn’t imagining. She was a visio
n, more beautiful than he had ever seen her, her skin luminous and inviting his touch. Blood rushed to his cock as warmth from the bourbon spread throughout his chest. He drained his glass.
Would she look the same as he remembered, feel the same way in his arms? Or had she been with men between then and now who’d altered the way she loved a man? The thought incensed his territorial nature, even as he knew it should not, and he longed to claim her body with his own once more.
He’d taken her innocence and gotten her pregnant the first time they’d had sex. He longed to make love to her now, to feel what she was like as a grown woman, her body more mature and appealing than even her younger one had been. Her breasts were fuller, her cleavage more pronounced. The hips he’d once held on to were rounded now, welcoming and soft, and he wanted to grip them with his eager hands as he thrust himself into her body.
His gaze traveled down her curvy legs to her ankles and back up again, finding her eyes wide and locked with his at the end of his journey. Another gust of wind rattled the house, and the lights flickered precariously. “The power still go out with every passing storm?”
“Just about.” She stood and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
He stared after her, confused by her abrupt departure. “I’m not very hungry,” he called, standing to pour himself another bourbon.
“It’s better if I do it now. The stove and the microwave won’t work if we lose power.”
The idea of being alone with her in the dark while a storm raged outside did nothing for the growing problem in his pants, but first he had to get her out of the kitchen. He crossed to the doorway, finding her bent over and peering into the refrigerator. “I’m not hungry. Really.”
The lights went out, throwing the room into near darkness. Davina cursed and slammed the refrigerator.
“Do you have any candles?”
“In the junk drawer. There’s a lighter, too.” He found the right drawer but couldn’t see what he was looking for. “I can’t find them.”
“Here, let me.” She moved beside him, the scent of her filling her nostrils as she dug into the drawer.
“Davina.”
“They’re in here someplace. Just give me a second.”
He touched her shoulder, turning her around. “Davina…”
She jumped, then dug in the drawer again. “I need to find the candles.”
This time he left her alone, though her nearness had his nervous system on high alert. He could feel the heat coming off her body.
“Got it,” she said, the flame of a lighter suddenly chasing away the darkness as she lit the candle’s wick. “There.” She put the candle down on the island, staring into the flame for a long moment. Her cheeks were flushed with color. She sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Light a candle?”
She met his eyes. “Have sex with you.”
He turned slowly around and leaned back against the island. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not good at it.”
A sharp twinge of disappointment pierced his mind. He hadn’t realized until that moment, he’d been hoping she hadn’t slept with anyone but him, but clearly that was not the case. He chastised himself for his own double standard. “I’m sure you are.”
She turned to him. “No, I’m not. I’m clumsy and I’m awkward. I’m uncomfortable.” She took his drink off the counter and downed the rest with one gulp.
“We’ll go slow.”
“No. This is a terrible idea.” She turned and left the kitchen, leaving him no choice but to follow with the candle.
She paced along the back of the couch. “I have stretch marks. Big, nasty stretch marks.”
“From having my baby.” He put the candle down on an end table and moved to intercept her, but she shimmied out of his reach.
“I’m fat.”
“You are not fat. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m thirty pounds heavier than the last time you saw me. Don’t even pretend you didn’t notice.”
“I noticed.” He moved to the couch and lay down on his back, threading his fingers behind his head. “I was sitting right here a few minutes ago, thinking about how much I like your curvy hips.”
She stopped abruptly. “You were not.”
“And you have killer legs. You used to be a little knock-kneed, no offense, but now… wow.”
“I was not knock-kneed.”
“Gangly.”
She gasped. “I was not!”
“Just a little bit. But not anymore.”
“I hate you right now.”
He smiled. “I like you very much.”
She yelled in frustration. “I don’t want to have sex.”
“Fine. We won’t have sex.”
“Well, you gave up very easily.”
He burst out laughing and sat up, grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her over the back of the couch, straight into his lap. He put a hand on either side of her face. “I’m not giving up at all.”
19
Davina was terrified.
Every attempt she’d ever made at sex had been disastrous, from the first, painful one where she got pregnant, right up until her most recent dating app fiasco. So while her body was screaming with need for this man, her mind wouldn’t allow her to relax.
The bourbon she drank had helped a little, but its effects had disappeared with her rising anxiety. Zach kissed from her mouth to her neck, trailing his lips along the sensitive skin, making goose bumps rise up on her arms and legs. That was nice. Maybe if he did more of that, she would be okay.
She tried to inch closer to him, the awkward angle of her leg keeping her at a distance. She could move it, but the only place to put it would be the other side of his lap, resulting in her actually straddling his erection. She could already feel it against the outside of her thigh.
God, she couldn’t do this.
He ran his hands up the back of her shirt, and those warm, strong fingers felt so good she decided to move her leg after all. Straddling him, she rested her weight on his body, and he moaned down deep in his throat. Liking the sound of that, she did it again, arching her back to stroke him sensuously.
A breathless whimper escaped her lips as his cock rubbed her swollen clitoris, surprising her. Again she arched her back, feeling the pressure build between her legs before she thrust against him and it released.
She continued the motion as he lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal her breasts, nuzzling his head between them before stroking one with his hand. She barely had time to be self-conscious about her stretch marks before he pulled the cups of her bra down and groaned at the sight of her breasts.
“So beautiful,” he whispered reverently before taking her peak in his mouth. The sensation of his suckling combined with the pressure of her clit rocking on his cock was almost too much to bear, and she panted wildly.
What had she been worried about? This was already ten times better than any sexual experience she’d ever had, except for the foreplay their first time around. That had been shattered by the pain of losing her virginity, the good sensations barely having time to return before they were done. But this time… this time, there would be no stopping.
She wanted all of him, and the narrow little couch was an impediment to her progress. “Let’s go upstairs.” She led the way, his hand stroking her backside as she climbed the steps, his arms coming around her and dragging her down to the bed. No man had shared it with her before now.
He lifted her shirt over her head and threw it to the floor, and she unhooked her bra, discarding it as well. She needed his clothing gone, too, and she frantically worked toward that goal, ripping and yanking the fabric away until he was completely naked before her.
His body was glorious. Gone was the adolescent he’d once been. Bunching muscles encircled every inch of his body, their shapes perfectly defined. A trail of dark hair led from his navel to a thick triangle around his cock, which stood full
y engorged and glistening at its bulbous tip.
She wanted to see it, wanted to put it in her mouth and taste it, hold it in her hands and drive him wild. She moved down his body and he cursed under his breath as she took the base in her hand and brought her lips to gently caress the head. Moisture beaded there, and she licked it, savoring its salty tang before opening her mouth and taking him inside.
He groaned her name as she took as much of his length as she could muster. Her hand raked the hardened muscles of his thigh, moving inward to stroke the sensitive skin of his balls. He withdrew from her mouth and thrust forward with a cry unlike any she’d ever heard, and she loved the power she held over him to make him feel that way.
She opened wider, intent on beating her previous attempt, but he hauled her up to face her. “No more,” he ground out. “I can’t stand it much longer.” Flipping her onto her back, he took her other nipple in his mouth and forced her legs open with his. Then his hand was on her there, stoking her most sensitive place with skillful fingers.
It was a sensual onslaught, and she could feel her excitement building with every stroke and suckle. But then a finger slipped lower, separating her folds and finding the eager entrance to her body. She bucked against his hand, her body fisting around his finger as she fought to find her release.
“I want to be inside you when you come,” he said, moving on top of her body and settling between her legs.
“Condom,” she said breathlessly, needing to know this union wouldn’t have the same life-altering consequences as the last one. There was an unopened box in her bedside drawer, though the contents were surely out of date.
“I’ve got one.” He moved off the bed, the sound of his belt buckle jangling on his pants preceding the opening of a plastic package.
Then he was back, kissing her again and she wrapped her legs around him, and she didn’t want any more foreplay. She needed this man inside her. “Please, Zach. Now.”
He thrust into her and she called out in pleasure, the sensation unlike any she’d ever known. Every part of her body was ready for this man, every inch of his shaft satisfying a deep-seated need for fascination and release.
