RidingtheWaves (24 page)

“Brody, take this and go free the other three women.”

Three women?

Summoning all of her strength, Annalee squeezed his fingers.

“Can you hear me, Annalee?”

Again she squeezed.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

She strained and tugged and pried, trying to lift her lids,
then finally they slinked open. Brent squatted on one side of the bed and Brody
was limping toward the stairs.
Limping?

“You don’t know how scared…” Brent lifted her fingers to his
lips as tears filled his eyes. “My God.”

Seeing his teary gaze prompted her to cry again. As the
tears dribbled along her temples, he leaned forward and kissed each droplet
away.

His gaze expressed so much emotion, it sobered her somewhat.

Slowly he glanced over his shoulder. She followed his gaze
to Rashand and the other guy, both lying unconscious on the floor.

“Motherfuckers,” Brent growled. He stood and strode across
the room, each step long and evenly paced. He glared at both men then looked
back at Annalee. While his gaze lingered on her battered wrists and the blood
seeping through the sheet, his features hardened and jaw twitched. After taking
one last look into her eyes, he turned and stomped on each one’s head.

Heavy footsteps stampeded down the stairs and stopped
abruptly just inside the room. Sterns and two police officers glanced at the
unconscious bodies at their feet. “I see you have things under control down
here, Delaney,” Sterns said. “How’s she doing?”

“She needs a doctor.”

“We’ve got multiple ambulances en route.”

Chapter Fourteen

Annalee sat up on Brent’s lap, patting a yawn, and stretched
her shoulders. “Have you heard from Brody yet?”

“He called while you were asleep. They had an unexpected
delay, but he’s home.”

“How’s his ankle?”

“He didn’t say.” He’d kept it wrapped in an ace bandage, but
he should’ve gotten it x-rayed the night it’d happened. It might’ve been
fractured, but he refused to visit a doctor unless the pain worsened. “He said
some
doll
on the plane let him use her lap as a prop.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Brent arched his brows. “Yes, he would.”

She giggled and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to take a
shower.”

He grazed his thumb over the small bruise on her cheek. “The
doctor told you not to get the stitches wet.”

“For at least three days. Today’s the third.”

Yeah, he did say three. “I’ll grab a towel from the dryer
and be there in a minute to help.”

“I don’t need assistance,” she said while she inched off his
lap, paused to wince then slowly straightened, “but if you’d like to join me,
the door will be open. Bring two towels.”

He watched her grab her cell phone off the coffee table and
amble down the hallway. She’d rolled her sweatpants up to her knees to keep
them from brushing against the bandages around her ankles.

For the past three days he’d sat on the couch holding her.
And when not, he’d waited on Brody hand and foot.

It’d be a cold day in hell before he’d let her out of his
sight. Rashand hadn’t been arrested yet. The fucker and his sidekick were still
in the hospital in drug-induced comas, waiting for the swelling in their brains
to shrink.
An eye for an eye.
Brent should’ve kicked them harder and
smashed in their skulls.

When he’d busted into that house and saw Annalee unconscious
and bleeding in the basement, he wanted
their
blood. If Brody hadn’t
pulled him off Rashand, the weasel would be grub food right now, not breathing
oxygen from a machine. Unfortunately the doctor said they’d survive. So private
security was hired to guard their rooms until they were healthy enough to be
placed under arrest.

Christ, Annalee still couldn’t stand upright without
slightly hunching forward for a moment first because of the punch she’d taken
to her belly. What kind of man did that to a woman? A man wouldn’t, but a
pussy-assed control freak who needed to display power on someone smaller than
himself would. Well, the bastard needed to send Brody a
thank you for saving
my ass
card. Brent couldn’t stop laying blows to the weasel’s body. And
he’d expelled every breath of fear he’d inhaled that day on the son of a
bitch’s face with his fist. Brent left him with an unrecognizable mug,
shattered jaw and a few teeth. He’d mangled two of his own knuckles, but still,
it didn’t seem enough.

No beating was too severe for a man who hurt his woman.

As he walked into the laundry room, Morton dashed past his
feet and took a flying leap into the litter box. Brent chuckled and shook his
head. He’d better get used to the shy-turned-psycho kitty if he planned on
spending the rest of his life with Annalee. There wasn’t any other place he
wanted to be. He’d give things another week to settle down and then he’d talk
to Whiltby about resigning one position for another. If he wasn’t needed in
accounting, he’d stack shelves in the warehouse or pack supplies. Whiltby was
an understanding man. He’d already been made aware of Annalee’s condition, and
since it originally evolved from piracy involving his cargo, he’d do whatever
necessary to make things right.

Brent’s days of protecting ships were over. As much as he
loved riding the waves, he loved Annalee more, and he’d rather cut out his own
guts than subject her to that type of danger ever again. Losing her over his
own stupidity was one thing, but losing her to something indirectly related to
him and avoidable was unacceptable.

He removed two towels from the dryer, draped them over his
shoulder and headed down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he heard
Annalee talking. Just as he entered the room, she laid her phone on the
counter. The shower was running but she sat on the toilet lid, using it as a
chair. “Is everything okay, baby?”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes and a phony smile.
“I called my mom. Hearing her voice always makes me feel better.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head. “She sounds really good. In a way I
think she’s relieved my grandma passed. She’s always said she couldn’t bear to
watch her dwindle away.” She rubbed her hands along her thighs. “She wants to
meet the man who saved her little girl though.”

He grinned. And he wouldn’t mind meeting the parents who
raised such a wonderful woman, who overpowered his heart, stole his love and
brought his six-foot-six body barreling to its knees. “You’ve got some time
off. Tell me when you’d like to go.”

“That depends on your schedule. There’s a shipment to
Thailand leaving the day after tomorrow. Will you be escorting it across the
sea?”

He laid the towels over the shower doors, squatted in
between her knees and took hold of both of her hands. “No,” he said, studying
her eyes. Damn, they were passionate and so full of life. “I won’t be rescuing
or escorting ships anymore, Annalee. I’m staying off the waters.”

Her face lit up. “You are?”

He smiled. “You said you want to have my babies and a
husband who comes home every night. Well, I’ll be here every single night for
the rest of my life if you’ll have me.”

“You’re willing to give that up for me?”

“No, I’m not willing to give it up for you. I
am
giving it up for you.”

“I don’t want you to do that. What if you regret it later
on?”

“There will never be any regrets. I can’t explain how I felt
when you were abducted by Rashand. There are no words.” None. Absolutely none,
to describe the fear he’d experienced. “You’ve saved me three times, Annalee.”
He glared at the wrapped gauze on her wrists. Gently he brought her hands to
his lips and kissed her fingers. “The instant I saw you bleeding and strapped
to that bed, my life changed.”

“Brent, I—”

“Shhh.” He leaned forward and kissed her briefly before
placing his forehead against hers.

“But what are you going to do?”

“Talk to Whiltby about a local job.”

“In accounting?” An ear-to-ear smile brightened her face.
“You’re not cutting your hair. And you’ll stay away from Willow. I just may
have to kill her if she makes a move on you.”

“Anything you want, Annalee.” She didn’t have to worry about
him taking a second look at any other woman. “Just think about whether or not
you want to spend the rest of your life with me, since you’ve avoided the
subject a minute ago.”

She removed her hands from his and laid her soft palms on
his cheeks. “You know I do.”

“Then say it.”

“Then ask.”

Smiling, he shook his head against hers. “Baby,” he said,
and sat back on his haunches. “I love you. I adore you.” He lifted her fingers
to his heart. “I want to give you lots of babies, and I want to hold you in my
arms until my dying breath. Will you share your life with me by becoming my
wife?”

“Brent, are you seriously proposing to me on a toilet seat?”

He smirked and glanced between her thighs at the furry
burgundy lid. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Wow, he’d botched that up. The toilet
wasn’t a very romantic place. Hell, who said location was important, when it
was the words that counted? The least he could do was put her in a situation
she’d enjoy while asking her to become his missus.

Smirking, he stood, helped her to her feet and cautiously
backed her into the wall. Carefully, to avoid contact to her wrists, he took
her hands in his and gently placed them above her head. “Now, as I was saying…”
he lowered his face and nipped her earlobe. “Annalee,” he breathed into her
hair, “if I promise to tie you to the bed,” he padded his lips to her cheek,
“enact your fantasies,” he moved his lips to her mouth briefly, “and re-steal
your virginity every chance I get,” he rubbed noses, “will you marry me?”

“Mmm,” she purred, “I’m not sure.”

He lowered an arm, slid it beneath her sweatshirt and very
delicately cupped her breast. “If I promise to turn you on,” he lightly fondled
the soft mound, “until you don’t know,” he squeezed her nipple, “whether you’re
dead or alive,” he slightly twisted the hardened bud, “will you say yes?”

“I’m,” she let out a sigh, “still thinking.”

Brushing fingertips down her belly, he slid them beneath her
waistband, into her pants, and rested his thumb on her clitoris. Her hips
jutted forward slightly. “And if I promise,” he rotated his thumb, “to fuck
your pussy,” he slipped a finger deep inside her vagina, “while fucking your
ass with a vibrator,” he added a second finger, “will you—”

“Yes,” she squealed, spreading her legs. “Yes.”

He lowered his face and kissed her passionately. While
slipping his tongue between her teeth, he removed his hand from the center of
her thighs and placed it around her back. With a gentle tug, he pulled her
closer. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

She propped her head against the wall, closed her eyes and
sighed heavily. “If you leave me like this, I’m going to reconsider.”

“And if you reconsider,” he lifted her chin, which forced
her lids open. He grinned when he had her full attention. “I’m going to leave
you in that state permanently.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He arched his brows. “No?” He dropped his hands at his sides
and turned to leave, but she quickly grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him
back. “I didn’t think so,” he said with a chuckle.

“Not so fast, big guy.” She crossed her arms, leaned back
into the wall and smiled one cocky-assed smile. “I’ve got a dildo in my bedroom
and a pulsating showerhead. I can live without you.”

She had him there. With that vision alone, his balls caught
on fire. “Show me.”

Her mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut. “You’ve already
seen them.”

“Yes I have.” He narrowed his eyes and took a step closer,
reducing the gap between them to ten inches. “Now show me what you do with
them.”

“I’ve…you,” she stuttered, “have seen that too.”

“The dildo.” He planted his hands on the wall above her head
and lowered his head. “Get in the shower, Annalee.”

“I think…you know, my stitches…if I…the doctor said—”

Oh how he loved watching her squirm. Despite her jittery
reluctance, he saw a fire dancing in her eyes. Once he’d gotten her over this
hurdle, she’d be more than willing to appease him and herself. “It’s been three
days, you’ve said it yourself. Shower. Now.”

“I’m really tired all of a sudden.” She faked a yawn and
stretched her arms out at her sides. “I think I’ll take a quick nap.”

His insides exploded in laughter, but he wouldn’t dare
expose it to her. She’d brought this on, and if there’s one thing she should’ve
learned by now, she couldn’t hand him a visual without being expected to enact
it. “Easy or hard? You choose.”

“Oh you’re impossible sometimes.” She stomped her foot,
which he’d never seen her do before.

It brought on more silent laughter. He folded his lips to
prevent an outburst and arched a brow. “Really, Annalee?”

“Just shut up and take off my clothes.”

“Uh, no. You’re going to do that too.”

She almost stomped her foot again but stopped short. “You’re
just a big bully.” She rolled her shirt upward, off her arms, and tossed it on
the floor. “One day you’re going to run into a guy twice your size,” she said,
stretching the waistband over the bandages on her hip. Carefully she removed
her pants and panties. “And I hope he bends you over his lap and fucks you up
the ass with a zucchini.”

His guts were busting apart. He was getting very close to
losing it. “Is that something else you want to try, Annalee?”

“Yes. My lap, your ass.” While she climbed into the shower,
he smacked her butt, which earned him an over-the-shoulder glare. “Don’t push
it, Delaney.”

He haphazardly undressed. It was best to give her time to work
on building her nerve. When he finally climbed in behind her, she turned in his
direction. The water raced along her body. Bubbles followed when she rubbed a
bar of soap all over her skin.

The gauze around her ankles sagged from the water, revealing
the abrasions, so he squatted and removed the tape and unwound both strips. A
majority of the wounds looked like deep burns. Scabs had formed over the
sections that were actually torn. To cause that much damage… He could only
imagine how hard she struggled to free herself from the ropes. Every time a
vision crept into his mind, he’d blocked it. What she’d told him was enough. To
create additional details spurred a burning rage in his guts.

Every bit of amusement drained from his body. He wadded the
bandages and set them on the edge of the tub. Placing his hands on the outside
of her thighs, he brought his lips to her hip and placed kisses around the
protected stitches.

What was the asshole’s purpose in carving his mark into a
woman’s flesh? Did it make him proud, and feel more like a man? The fucking
weasel. He’d marred all four women who were found in the house that night. Each
one had been securely returned to their homes and would later be called as
witnesses during the trial. The bastard didn’t stand a chance. And Brent wanted
to be present in the courtroom to watch him go down.

He gave the wound another gentle kiss before he padded his
lips to her lower abdomen.

Annalee slid her fingers into his hair and smiled. “What are
you doing?”

“Kissing away your pain.”

She took hold of his hand. “Well, I have one right here
that’s really bad,” she said, and placed his fingers between her thighs.