Bermuda Nights - The Boxed Set (34 page)

I eased the clasp apart, slowly releasing the bra so that it fell away from my breasts. His breath caught as the nipples came free, as they shone, hard, in the soft light of the darkened nightclub.

I put my hand to my mouth to moisten my palm, then leant forward to slide it down the length of his hot cock. He sucked in his breath, his hand twining harder in my hair, the other on the arm of his chair.

I leant forward, easing my breasts toward his cock, until its shaft was nestled into my cleavage. I put my hands on either side of my breasts, pressing in, leaning down to slide the breasts along his full length.

A groan shuddered out of him, and I smiled. I slid more quickly, and his hand twined harder into my hair, holding me, urging me. I looked up into his eyes, into the depths of his gaze, and he was lost in me, lost in the depths of the feeling we had created. I could see as the passions built … as they bubbled up like a geyser … as they …

I drew back, plunged my mouth down, and curled both hands around to cup his muscular ass. I took him deep, hard, filling my throat with every inch of him.

His body arched beneath me, I heard the strangled gasp as he bit off the yell that nearly shook loose from him, and then he was coming … coming … every ounce of his being concentrated in that connection between us.

I was an empty vessel, and he filled me completely.

He eased, relaxed, and lay back against the chair, fully spent. Still I curled between his legs, my mouth around him, sucking gently, absorbing every last drop of him. His hand tenderly stroked my hair.

I looked up at him, taking down the last drop, and he sighed deeply. His voice was hoarse. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

I drew my head back, nuzzling in contentment against his thigh.

“You were simply you. And that is all I will ever need.”

Chapter 10

I glanced back at the ship as Kayla and I pulled our carry-on bags down the gangplank. There were the same sparkling portholes, the same glistening row of balconies that we’d seen when we first arrived, seven days ago. It seemed like seven centuries. So much had changed. I was a completely different woman. The world which spread before me felt unlike any other I had known before.

Kayla pulled out her cellphone and looked at the face. “Just after nine. Plenty of time to get to the meeting spot.”

I yawned and put my hand in front of my face. “I’m still barely awake. I think I sleep-walked through my shower.”

She chuckled. “I didn’t even hear you come in. What time was it?”

I smiled. “Maybe one or so. Not too bad. I got plenty of sleep. Don’t you worry about that. How are you doing?”

She stuffed her phone back into her purse. “I’ll be fine. Let’s get this over with.” She shook her head, looking sideways at me. “And then, girlfriend, you and I are going to have a long talk.”

I made a sweeping bow. “As you wish.”

We gathered up our luggage from the cavernous warehouse, then headed out to where the taxis waited in a long, winding row. The ground moved and swayed beneath my feet, and I wondered if this was why they called sailors “drunken.” Undoubtedly I looked pretty soused to the land-lubbers who walked in the bright sunshine of a glorious Boston morning.

Kayla waved at the first taxi driver in line, a lean Indian man in a dark, embroidered shirt hanging loose over neat jeans. He nodded and popped the trunk, setting our two bags snugly in side by side. We brought our carry-ons around and in a moment we were safely inside.

I sighed as I sat back against the cushions. It was almost normal. The familiar Boston skyline, the unique smell of a well-used cab, it was as if the unworldly cruise was a dream and we were awake again in our beloved Beantown.

Kayla gave him her apartment address, then turned to me as we set into motion. “Let’s get these bags dropped off. We have the time. Then we can head over to the Pickled Herring.”

I nodded, closing my eyes. We were so close to it all being over.

Her voice held the hint of a smile. “So, how’d you get Jeff out of the picture, anyway?”

I leaned my head back. “Evan and I tried to get him to go quietly, but he took a swing at Evan. After that, it was the bar-brawl scene from
Gone Baby Gone
.”

Kayla laughed. “I’d have liked to see that. Jeff almost had me fooled, that he was a romantic guy who was just head-over-heels for you. But it turns out he was more stalker than lover.”

“That’s for sure,” I agreed.

Her voice dropped lower. “And what about Evan? When this is all over, are you going to give him a shot?”

The image of him shimmered to life before me. He was climbing out of the helicopter. He was soaked to the bone, still wearing the tuxedo from our elegant dinner, his hand as solid as marble as he helped me down. He had leapt in after me without hesitation – and I knew with certainty that he would do it again.

I nodded my head, warmth easing into every cranny of my being. “I am a part of Evan, and he of me. Once today is through, the future … it shimmers. It just shimmers.”

She patted my hand. “You deserve it.”

* * *

We had dropped off the bags, the city had scrolled by in its autumnal glory, and the cabbie turned the corner onto the potholed side street along the waterfront. Only a few rough-hewn pedestrians ambled along the road, heading to whatever distant destinations.

Kayla leant forward, glancing up at the ID tag clipped to the visor. “All right, then, Kamran, what do we owe you?”

He put the taxi into park, then turned off the engine. He waved a dismissive hand. “Let the ride be my gift to you. A welcome-home present.”

Kayla’s hand was in her purse, digging for her wallet, and she turned in confusion. “What?”

I looked up at the photo ID, my face draining of all blood.
Kamran.
That had been the name of Sven’s contact in Boston. The one who had tried to go into business for himself with two of his friends.

The friends had been taken out. Permanently.

I could barely get the words out. “You are –”

He smiled widely, the white teeth glistening like slick daggers. “I am in charge of the Boston operation,” he agreed evenly. “It will be nice to work with you two lovely ladies.” He stepped out of the cab and pulled open Kayla’s door. “After you.”

I wrapped my arms around myself as we moved toward the bar. My mind raced over the conversation Kayla and I had held during the long ride. What had we said? Had we revealed anything compromising? How could we have been so careless! We should have kept silent – utterly quiet – until this whole meeting was over with.

The bar’s facade was grey industrial with peeling paint on the shingles and green-black mold lining the bottom of the chipped door. The rest of the street was splotched with faceless warehouses and weed-strewn parking lots.

Kamran pulled the door open for us. As he turned, I could see the bulge at his back waistband, where something solid interrupted the smooth flow of his shirt fabric.

He was packing.

I swallowed hard, forcing my breathing to stay even. Evan and Brandon would be here. They would handle everything.

Kamran grinned at me, then nudged his head. I took a deep breath and stepped through, blinking to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkened interior.

The bar had definitely seen better days. Dirt-brown wood, grimy floors, cigarette burns on half the tables and whiskey stains on the rest. The U-shaped bar in the middle was ringed by black vinyl stools, while round tables littered the worn floor near us. A row of shadowed booths lined the back wall. The guy slumped at the bar and pair muttering at the table by the window didn’t even look up as we came in.

There was a movement, and Sven stood in a back booth, looking over at us with furrowed brows. “Hey. Over here.”

I swept my gaze. Sven, Hank, and Tom were sharing the booth, and they’d pulled a square table up to it to add more room. Relief shook through me. Brandon and Evan were sitting at the table, both sets of eyes focused attentively on mine. The muscles on Evan’s neck were strained as his gaze flicked between Kamran and me.

Sven’s voice was tight as the three of us came around the bar to him. “I thought you guys didn’t know each other.”

Kamran smiled as he slid into the open space next to Sven. “I thought it’d be gentlemanly for me to pick the girls up at the dock,” he explained. “Get to know them before we had our little talk.”

Evan twined his fingers into mine as I sat next to him at the table. His voice was low. “Are you all right?”

I nodded my head, keeping quiet. My mind furiously went over every sentence, every nuance of what Kayla and I had talked about. We’d joked about the Champagne. We’d rhapsodized over the midnight chocolate buffet. Had we said anything dangerous?

Sven waved a hand toward the bar, and in a minute the bartender, a rail-thin Irishman about fifty years old, carried over a dented metal tray holding eight shot glasses.

Sven smiled as he took his. “This is Trosa Punsch. It’s my tradition for starting new ventures. Mickey here is good enough to keep bottles on hand for me.”

He held the glass up. “To a fresh start.”

We all mirrored his motion. “A fresh start,” we echoed. We clinked them all around.

I took a sip. It was interesting – a mix of citrus and apricot, with quite a kick. I took another sip before putting the glass down.

Kamran turned to Sven, his toothy grin still shining. “So, what was it that happened to Jeff?”

Cold fear traced down my spine. Jeff. Kayla and I had mentioned him. Damn, damn, damn.

Sven was turning, and there was no time to think.

I laughed, drawing all eyes to me. “That jerk? The crew was looking for Jeff after he tried to fling me into the briny deep,” I explained, taking another sip of the punsch. “Evan and I didn’t want him talking to the crew. After all, Jeff is a sleaze-ball and would gladly sell out Sven’s operation in exchange for a lenient sentence. So we had a little … chat with him.”

Sven’s glare deepened. “You didn’t see fit to mention that earlier.”

I could feel the tension ripple through Evan’s hand where it held mine, but his voice was steady and clear. “I didn’t see the need,” he countered mildly. “A few steady fists thrown from the hip helped him see the wisdom of our suggestion. He won’t cause any trouble.”

Sven turned on Kamran. “And what is it that you had heard?”

Kamran spread his arms wide. “Just that Amanda and Evan had a hand in his path to the brig. I was curious about the details.”

Evan flexed the fingers of his free hand. “The details are that my fist intersected with his skull, repeatedly, and he’s learned not to touch my girlfriend ever again.”

Sven chuckled. “I do like loyalty in my underlings,” he agreed. His eyes swept to Kamran, and they hardened. “Absolute loyalty.”

Kamran’s shark grin didn’t waver. “Of course.”

Sven looked across the table. “So, Kamran, this is Brandon and Evan, and you’ve apparently met Amanda and Kayla. Amanda and Kayla will be selling together out of Kayla’s bar. Brandon will get the south. Evan, when you finish up your tour with us, you’ll be handling the north. Kamran, you get the central, as you always have. You have the entire time the ship is down on its southern run to work out the logistics – distribution, warehousing, the connections you’ll need with local law enforcement. I expect to have that all firmly in place by the time the ship comes back up for the Bermuda run in the late spring.”

Kamran spread his hands. “Of course, boss. I’ll have it all under control. No need to worry about a thing.”