Becoming Rain (19 page)

Chapter 30

■ ■ ■

CLARA

Bill looks good in a Coast Guard's vest, I'll give him that.

But what the hell is he doing here and how on earth did he finagle a spot on the Coast Guard ship? This has Warner written all over it. He's worried about me; I get it. Fine. But at the risk of blowing my cover?
Jesus.

“What's wrong?” Luke asks, worried eyes on me.

I take a deep breath as I watch the small army of men and two women climb onboard, armed with assault rifles and emotionless faces, and I expel my frustration and anger—because there's no reason for Rain Martines to be experiencing either—and give him the broadest smile. “I hate interruptions.”

And, deep down, I do hate that we were interrupted. Because in that hazy moment, I was fully Rain and there was no taint of right or wrong, no little Sinclair and Warner sitting on my shoulder whispering orders and warnings.

Luke's blue eyes sparkle, dropping down to my mouth at the same time that his hand grips my side, squeezing gently. An edge of guilt washes over me. Not because I didn't enjoy every touch, every kiss, every feel of him against me.

Because I did.

“Sir, Ma'am . . . any contraband onboard that you would like us to be made aware of? Telling us now will lessen repercussions when we find something in your belongings.”

Oh hell.
He said “when.” Now I know what's going on. I bet a million bucks that Bill's got an eight-ball of cocaine or something else that gives him the excuse to pull me off this yacht. To “rescue” me out of a situation he doesn't want me to be in.

He can't do this to me. Not now.

Not after I just told Aref that I'm clean. That'll give him—and Luke—a reason to cut me off completely.

“No, we're just here to enjoy a night with our friends, and we'd like to get back to that as quickly as possible,” I say slowly, clearly, shooting a very brief but cutting glare of warning.

Bill turns on his heels and heads toward the stairs that lead into the cabins.
Please don't do this
.

Luke rubs my back. “Don't worry, it'll be over soon. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes!” I answer, a tad too eager. “Another glass of Cristal.”

He smiles and strolls toward a waiter. Quickly glancing around to make sure everyone's distracted, I spin to face the sea, my hiss low but enunciated. “Don't do it, guys. If I get busted on here, I'll never get invited back. I'll be the idiot who didn't ditch her stash and lied to Aref. You can kiss this cover goodbye.” That's all I can manage before Luke returns, handing me a drink. I suck it back quickly.

And I watch.

For almost an hour, the guards tear around the yacht in search of some reason to end this party. I grit my teeth, preparing myself for the inevitability that I will be that reason.

One . . . two . . . three . . . one after another, the guards appear from decks below, unsuccessful in their treasure hunt.

Bill is the last to come out.

His hands empty.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” one guy offers to Aref, and then hops off.

I fall into Luke's shoulder with relief while the other guests rush down to their rooms to check the upheaval. The wait staff sweep in to collect empty glasses and plates, and I get the impression that the party is coming to a close.

“See?” Aref's hands spread out, visibly more relaxed himself. “No worries.”

“I'd be pissed if I were you,” Luke mutters.

Aref waves a hand, acting like he doesn't care. “Fuck them. It's over. Come on.” He nods his head toward the stairs. “We should talk.”

I don't get more than two steps in before Elmira appears. “Rain. Let me show you to your room.” Her lithe arm stretches out, beckoning.

“I'm sure I can find my way.” I glance over at Luke, hoping he'll ask me to stay.

He leans in and kisses me quickly. “I'll come find you when we're done.”

With a forced smile, I follow Elmira down the winding staircase to the first floor where the cabins are. “You are worried about him, aren't you?” she says softly, stopping in front of a door.

“What makes you say that?”

She peers up at me with knowing eyes. Her diminutive, childlike appearance is a good cover for a very smart, very manipulative woman. “Because of what I said. Because you like him and . . .” She leans casually against the lacquered wall. “ . . . because you are smart enough to understand what kind of business our men are involved in.”

I mimic her stance, though inside warning flares are going off. What does she know? “He doesn't talk to me about that stuff.”

“Aref was like that with me for a long time. It's normal.” She sighs, glancing between the cabin doors. I'm assuming the one across from me is Luke's. “But eventually his walls started coming down. Don't underestimate the power of sharing a bed, if you really want him to trust you. To treat you like a partner.” Her dark red lips curl into a sly smile. “Have a good night.”

I wander into my room—a small but elegant cabin with just enough space for a bed and nightstand on either side—and find my overnight bag ransacked by the Coast Guard. At least, I assume it was by the Coast Guard. I don't really care. There was nothing of value in there, and nothing that could identify me for what I am. I focus on folding my clothes up and pulling out my night things, while replaying all of Elmira's words.

Her warning about Luke. Is she working
with
Aref by telling me this, or against him? Is it a test? Are they seeing if he has the guts to stick around? If
I
do? A glance down at the four-inch scar along the inside of my elbow reminds me of the last time I dealt with a husband and wife. I was still in uniform and answering a domestic abuse call. While my partner was handcuffing the drunk husband for punching out his wife, she had a change of heart and took a swipe at me with a paring knife.

Aref and Elmira don't seem like the drunken knife-wielding type. They're more calculating than that. Perhaps they're the type to pay a late-night visit to my room. Or pay Luke a visit to his room. Is
that
what Elmira was warning me about?

I can't even call Warner to see what he thinks because, for all I know, this room is bugged.

I know I can't just sit here and wait. So I venture out of my room, more intent on keeping Luke out of trouble than catching him as he gets himself deeper into it.

Chapter 31

■ ■ ■

LUKE

“You deal with Vlad. You know what he's like.”

Aref puffs on his Cohiba, a model of sophistication as he leans back on the couch in a plum-colored pinstripe suit. If he spends four hundred grand on a bottle of scotch, I'm afraid to guess what his clothes cost. “Yes, I do. Difficult at the best of times. Someone I'd like to feed to a pit of crocodiles most other times. With Viktor gone, it's increasingly been the latter.” He shrugs in an “I don't really give a fuck” way. “But I'm fortunate. If he tries to dick me around, then he gets to find another reputable source for shipping.” His smirk suggests that would be pretty damn hard. “I imagine they're going to take issue with you making deals directly with me.”

“Or anyone else, besides them.” I lick the spicy taste of my own cigar from my lips as I let my head fall back and take in the million stars above. I could definitely get used to this life.

Aref seems to ponder this while ashing his cigar in a tall planter next to us. The others have vanished into their cabins; otherwise we wouldn't be able to talk so openly. My own eyes keep drifting to the set of stairs that will lead down into my cabin and, more importantly, Rain's.

“There's no reason that you and I can't establish a business for different parts of the world,” he finally says.

“That's exactly what I told Rust.” I have no fucking clue where Vlad's delivering all the chopped cars, other than the few countries Rust mentioned earlier. Thailand, China, I assume Russia. “Where are you proposing?”

Aref doesn't miss a beat. “Africa. There's a big demand for SUVs by government and military. I've had someone reach out to me, to see if I could help.”

“And they don't believe in paying the manufacturers?”

Aref chuckles. “Not these people. They don't believe in paying, period, if they can get something for free. This would not be free, but it would be discounted by their standards.”

I weigh my words carefully before I speak again. “Vlad and Andrei have been making business less profitable for us. If you were to present us with a fair arrangement, I'd say Rust would have a hard time saying no to you. But it's got to be a long-term plan, not something to pull us in before you start adding upcharges at every delivery.”

Aref holds his hands up. “That is not how I do business.”

I'd like to believe that. He seems like a stand-up guy. “Let me ask you something, though . . . you have all this.” I wave a hand around. “So why get involved? You could lose everything. I don't get it.”

He draws another puff of his cigar. “ ‘Why, customs officer, I had no idea what was in those crates. Prove that I did before you can charge me with anything.' ” His smile is foxlike, his eyes darting behind me, as Elmira sweeps past me with an ashtray for our table. “My wife doesn't like that I smoke cigars.”

“That's not true. I simply don't enjoy finding filth polluting the soil for my cannas,” she murmurs, her eyebrow raised toward the evidence beside him.

He laughs and reaches up to grip the back of her slender thigh through her dress. “To answer your question, Luke, I'm in a risky business but I don't take stupid risks. I'm careful about who I do business with and who I trust. And I
always
go with the winning horse. This woman here?” He peers up at her, his dark eyes glassy with booze and lust and adoration. “She's the only one I trust completely. We have no secrets between us, and she has an uncanny radar for bad business propositions. Spots them within five minutes.” His hand shifts up to her ass, giving it a good squeeze, showing me a hint of an aggressive side that I wasn't quite sure existed.

Bending down to plant a kiss on his lips, she slips away quietly, Aref's eyes trailing her swaying hips until they disappear. “I never thought I'd find a woman who understands me completely, who feels like my equal. When that woman doesn't like someone, I don't like someone. And I don't do business with them. Those other men here tonight married foolish cows, and they spend entirely too much effort keeping them happy and quiet. Elmira doesn't feel they are good partners for us, and that's why my business with them is limited and will never expand beyond what it is. Of course, they have no clue how much more money they could be making. They think they're on top of the world.”

Why is he saying all this? Is he about to tell me that she doesn't approve of Rain? I'm not sure how I'm going to handle that. Rain is the first woman I might actually have feelings for.

His eyes flash to mine and I see the recognition there. “She likes your woman.”

I feel my shoulders sag with relief.

“Elmira thinks she's very smart. She could be a good partner for you. But do you trust her?”

I can't help but chuckle. “It's only been a few weeks, Aref.”

“And yet you've spent more time with her than you do with most women, right?”

I pause before answering. How the hell does he know? Has he had me followed? Before I have a chance to ask, he goes on. “What kind of woman do you think she is? Is she one of those . . .” He gestures absently toward the couch down below, where the women sat earlier. “ . . . who you buy with diamonds and houses, or is she a true partner, like Elmira?”

The mention of diamonds reminds me of the necklace I bought her, that I've tucked away for a later date. Because I've already assumed there will be a point in our relationship when I can give it to her without it feeling weird. “I honestly don't know, Aref.”

That's exactly why Rust has never settled down. He's always said he doesn't trust a woman not to sell him out for the right price. I'm the only one he trusts. He knows I'd never sell him out.

Would Rain balk at the very idea of dating a guy involved with a car theft ring? What would she say if she met Vlad? She already met Aref, and said she liked him, but those two are day and night. Would she want anything to do with a guy like me if she knew what I'm getting into? Does she have a right to know?

Leaning forward, Aref butts his cigar out in the ashtray, half of it left. “Fair enough.” He smiles. “One of the best things I ever did was marry Elmira.”

“Oh, man,” I say, chuckling. “I never took you for a romantic.”

“It's not romance, it's survival. You'll learn. You fall in love with a woman and then she takes her clothes off for you and suddenly your tongue is flapping, revealing all your secrets. Marrying a woman keeps the courts out of your bedroom.”

And out of
his
bedroom, I assume he's saying. He's afraid I'm going to talk. “Duly noted. But I think I'm okay for now.” Aref is fully aware of our cabin arrangements tonight. He even made fun of me for it.

“You know I was only a few years older than you when we married? It didn't take long for her to ply the truth out of me.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “Just be careful what you tell her. Rust says you're new to this business. It can be overwhelming. Maybe it's not a good time to get into a relationship.”

I'm searching for the right answer—the one where I say that there's no way in hell I'm ditching Rain because Aref suggested it—when his long finger points to something behind me.

Red silk catches the corner of my eye as I turn.

“I forgot my toothpaste, of all things. I was hoping I could borrow yours.” Flashing a sheepish look toward Aref, Rain adds, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

He waves it away, as he waves everything away. Nothing seems to bother him. “I should retire. Elmira's waiting for me.”

Rain's eyes trail Aref down the steps as she makes her way to me. “I'm really sorry.”

Can I trust you?
I pull her down onto my lap. The deck is empty except for a late-night staff member, clearing the last of the empty glasses, and of course the captain, in his control room. I wonder if he stays awake all night. “How are you feeling?”

She giggles. “Drunk? And exhausted.” She yawns.

“Right, toothpaste.” I can't tell if that was an excuse to bring me downstairs or not. I'm hoping it is. Rain yelps as I lift her into my arms and carry her right back the way she came, setting her on her feet when we reach the steps. I do so while stealing a kiss, replaying Aref's words yet again.

Everything about Rain so far does fit into my life. Her patience, her acceptance. She definitely enjoys having money. How long before she doesn't want to live on her daddy's dime? How long before she's looking for someone else to provide for her? I assume that's what she'll expect at some point, seeing as she seems to be floating through life right now.

I trail after her down the steps, so preoccupied with all these thoughts and questions that I end up bumping into her when she stops.

“This is your room.” She points to a door, and then the one right across. “And this is mine.”

My eyes get caught in the dip of her dress, that dragonfly necklace nestled perfectly in between her breasts, her nipples pressing through the silk. Is that a reaction to me or the cool night air we just escaped?

I'm gawking at her when I hear, “Toothpaste?” She's staring at me with a raised brow and an amused smirk.

“Right . . .” I stifle my groan as I head into my room—ransacked by those asshole Coast Guards—and come back with a tube. She's already moved inside her room, half-barricading the door with her body, holding her toothbrush out to steal a strip.

Not inviting me in.

“Good night, Luke,” she says, lifting onto her toes to lay a light kiss on my lips. “See you in the morning.” The door shuts and, a moment later, I hear the interior latch.

Dammit.
It's going to be a long night. “Follow her lead . . . follow her lead . . .” I mutter, ducking back into my room. I toss my suit jacket toward a small table. Missing it completely. My fingers fumble with the buttons on my shirt. Stripping off my pants and shirt, I throw them on top of my jacket and then drop down to begin my obsessive nightly regime. Because,
fuck,
maybe that'll keep me from heading back out and knocking on her door.

It's not helping. The push-ups are damn painful, actually. I'm halfway through my reps, lying flat on my stomach, and ready to give my hand a workout so I can finish, when I hear the lightest knock on the door. So quiet that I may be imagining it.

Still, I bolt for the door.

Rain stands there, tucking strands of hair behind her ear in that nervous way. She lifts her fingers to my mouth and steps into me, forcing me backward. Pressing the door shut with her body—in a worn Washington Capitals T-shirt that is so threadbare I can see the curves of her body and a hint of skin underneath—she reaches back to latch the door.