Satan (26 page)

He threw back his head and roared her name.

Angel couldn’t gather a single rational thought. Her brain cells had gone all mushy. She loved having him on top of her. Loved the way his cock twitched and throbbed inside her throbbing pussy. Loved the slightly salty taste of his sweat. Loved the raunchy-just-had-sex smell of her juices and his semen.

He rose onto his forearms, kissed the swollen tips of each nipple, and then her nose. “So, now that I have you helpless. When do you want to get married?”

She swatted him. “You know I’m going to blush every time someone asks me about how you proposed. You beast. You did this on purpose.”

“I like the way you blush. Turns me on. Think about it this way. It’ll be our delicious public secret.”

“Hmmm. I like that. Whenever you like.”

The land line chose that moment to ring.

He frowned. “I need to answer that. The team’s under orders not to call unless it’s crucial. Sorry.” He brushed his lips to hers, withdrew from her with a liquid pop, bounded off the bed, and grabbed the phone on the bedside table. “Yo. Whatsup?”

“When?” He paced back and forth. “Where?”

A shiver coasted across her shoulders. She jerked to sitting, scrambled off the mattress, and gathered her clothes. His somber tone sparked a rising alarm. Wishing she could hear the other side of the conversation, and knowing from the grim cant to his mouth that something dire had happened, she dressed quickly.

“What’s wrong?” She asked when he replaced the phone in its cradle.

He snatched his jeans off the floor. “Lucifer’s been working on finding out who owns the yacht I showed you this morning. The yacht’s registered to one of Yaman Moses’s holding companies. We’re going to intercept it with my boat.”

Fear dried all the saliva in her mouth. She swallowed a couple of times. “I know you have to do this. Promise me, you’ll be careful.”

“Always am. Devil’s remaining behind. Devil and Jess will be here in five minutes to run you over to the Chapman’s. All the other wives will be there. Four of Sinner’s brothers are ex-Navy. You’ll be safe with them.”

Angel did not want to be alone in the house if Yaman Moses was that close. “Fine by me. Any idea how long I’ll be at the Chapman’s?”

“At least overnight.”

“K. I’ll pack accordingly.” Angel hated parting from Satan, but he didn’t need the added pressure of knowing how bereft she felt. She crooked her lips into a smile.

“That’s my Angel.” He finished dressing and held out his hand. “Walk with me while I gear up.”

“Sure.” She’d never heard such a somber tone from him.

“I need to tell you a few things. First, I changed my will. If anything happens to me, you’re my executor, and you get to decide what to do with the bulk of my estate.”

“I don’t want to hear this, Satan.” Her heart beat so fast she swore the damned organ was going to burst.

“You have to and I don’t have much time.” He squeezed her fingers.

Her eyes misted, and the steps blurred. She swallowed around the sheer dread clogging her throat. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“There’s a safe deposit box in a bank. This is all in my video will. The box holds all my passwords and directions to bank accounts abroad. Listen to the will, read the paper doc, and then go through the box. I wanted to make the whole process as stress-less as possible for you.”

“Got it.” When had he done all this? Then she remembered the closed door sessions with his lawyer during their first week after the rescue. She chewed her bottom lip.

The doorbell rang. “That’s Devil and Jess. I’ll greet them. You go pack.”

She tiptoed, cupped his face, and looked right at him. “I love you. Come back to me.”

“I promise. I love you, too, my Angel.” He kissed her, turned her around, swatted her butt, and said, “Hurry.”

On autopilot Angel pulled on socks and boots, packed, and dragged her carry-on down the stairs only to find that Satan had already left with Lucifer.

Jess and Devil awaited her in the foyer. Devil hurried her and Jess into the car. Distressed that she hadn’t said a real goodbye, she paid little attention to Jess and Devil’s conversation about an upcoming book launch. She only noticed they’d arrived at the Chapman’s when Devil opened the car for her.

Devil grabbed her suitcase, slammed the door shut, and escorted the two women up the drive.

Mrs. Chapman greeted them at the door. “Welcome. Devil—take the bags upstairs. The last two rooms at the end of the hall are ready for you. Jess, Angel, everyone’s waiting for you in the living room. Come with me.”

Angel couldn’t stop worrying. The entire Chapman family, all of Sinner’s brothers and sisters and their progeny were present. Every single Chapman seemed bent on distracting her and all of the Squad’s wives with board and card games, and even charades.

By six that evening, she couldn’t stand the pretense any longer. As soon as dinner was finished, she said her goodnights, and retired to the room designated as hers.

She changed into pajamas, pulled out a book, and curled in a cozy chair near French doors that led onto a balcony. She read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a word and finally snapped the hard cover shut.

A door slammed. The sound came from outside. Angel pried apart the curtains and peered out. She caught a glimpse of Satan’s profile when the lights on the porte-cochere clicked on.

In a mad panic to hear what had happened, she scrambled her robe on, and dashed out of the room. She ran down the hallway, took the stairs two at a time, and arrived on the bottom landing right as Satan walked through the door.

He caught sight of her, grinned, and stretched his arms wide.

She flew into his embrace, titled her head back, and asked, “Yaman Moses?”

“Dead. Heart attack.” He finger combed a curl behind her ear.

“
Heart
attack
? No kidding? Where? When? How?” It was finally over. The Ghost was dead.

“Everyone will want to know. Come on. We’ll join the others.” He tugged her to the living room. All the Hades Squad members and the wives were already seated, as were all the adult Chapmans including, Gavin and Colleen.

Angel tiptoed to whisper, “Gavin and Colleen are supposed to be here?”

“You bet. They’re family.” He led her to an oversize chair, sat, and pulled her onto his lap.

Heat scalded her cheeks, but when she peeked at Gavin and Colleen, they didn’t seem surprised by Satan’s actions.

When his cock hardened beneath her bottom, her face flamed. She whispered, “Satan. Not in front of Mr. and Mrs. Chapman.”

“They can’t see my boner,” he teased, and brushed his lips to the tip of her nose. “Nikar, why don’t you do the honors?”

Nikar turned red. “Not much to tell. We were on our way to intercept Yaman Moses’ boat, when the coastguard flew by us. They’d had an emergency call from the yacht. Apparently Yaman Moses and a few friends were heading up to The Hamptons—he owns a home there. He was having dinner with the four couples travelling with him and collapsed during the dessert round. They called the coastguard, but he died before they got there.”

“Why were you gone all day, then?”

“We recognized some of the crew. Hung around because we wanted to talk to them.” Nikar’s color heightened with each word he uttered.

“Translation—we broke the fingers and the odd arm or wrist of every man who touched you.” Satan’s soft whisper belied the menace in his tone.

She digested the information in silence. A thought occurred to her. “Who were the couples on board?”

“Dr. Harry White and Mrs. Prudence White, he’s a Philosophy professor at the University of the West Indies. One Frank and Bridget de Souza, Lionel and Madge Field, and Amit and Rita Singh. Know any of them?”

“Not really. I’ve heard of Dr. White. The de Souzas are a large family and I’ve met a few of them, but I don’t remember either a Frank or a Bridget. You think any of them knew about Yaman? About who he really was?” Yaman Moses was dead. Dead, as in
not
alive, her brother was avenged, and she was gloriously alive. The dread that had tensed her muscles all day dissipated, but what if any of the people on the boat were part of his terrorist cell? What if they knew Yaman was after her and Satan? Would they be coming after them, too?

“That was another reason for our delay. We sat in—without them knowing—on the coastguard’s interrogation of all of the passengers and crew. I checked out all of them. As far as I can tell, Yaman was using the couples as cover,” Lucifer answered her question.

“Nikar also identified one of the crew as one of the men who was tailing Satan. Once we had a handle on him, things fell into place.” Satan explained.

“It’s obvious in hindsight. Malik Mansoor hated Satan for helping Farida. He captured Satan and almost had him executed for raping Farida, when he was the one who raped her in the first place. Satan took out Malik. The Ghost, aka Yaman Moses, was obsessed with torturing and killing Satan because Satan killed his son, Malik,” Devil clarified.

Angel couldn’t believe her ears. She caught Satan’s jaw. “Who is Farida? You didn’t really rape her, did you?”

Four hours later, Satan asked Angel, “You really thought me capable of rape?”

They were in the master bedroom lounging on the bed. He wore sweats. She wore one of his T-shirts and socks, her glorious hair tumbled in a wild disarray over her shoulders. The post-mission adrenalin that had resulted in a wham-bang-thank-you-ma’am fucking was slowly dissipating from his veins.

“Of course not. But Malik made Martin execute five sets of prisoners. Every morning he’d bring Martin ten women and children and tell him they were all going to die if Martin didn’t carry out the executions. To prove he meant it, he would pick the youngest of the batch and shoot him.” She shot him an anxious glance. “You’ve read Martin’s letter.”

“I have.” Satan didn’t intend to tell her that if he were in Martin’s place—he simply would have killed himself with the sword used for the beheadings.

“I think I’m ready to hear everything now, Satan. I think I need to know everything.” Angel sidled closer to him on the bed and sat in a cross-legged position so she faced him.

“You realize much of what I’ll divulge is guesswork on our part.” Satan would’ve preferred to hold her while explaining everything, but knew she needed to see his face, to see the run of emotions playing over his features.

He told her about Afghanistan, about Farida, the medical center, and Malik’s rape of Farida. “Malik somehow discovered that Farida had confided in me. He knew I’d take him out. He and his men stormed the medical facility while we were there. They then took over Farida’s village. They put me in a box that was four feet square, and six inches deep and only let me out twice a day—mainly to torture me.”

She leaned forward to rub her lips over his cheek. “That’s where your claustrophobia comes from.”

It was more a statement than a question. “Yes. You kept me sane in that coffin, my Angel.”

“You came for me. We’re even Steven. Go on. What happened next?”

“Farida accused Malik of rape and Malik charged me with the crime. He forced the local judge to try the case—of me raping Farida. The judge had no choice, Malik literally had a machine gun to his head. Farida was sentenced to death by stoning. They forced everyone in the village to take part, and made me and Farida’s family watch.” He closed his eyes. He would hear Farida’s screams and see her crumpling for the rest of his life.

“You killed Malik.”

Her soft declaration surprised the crap out of him. He studied her features. She didn’t appear in the least bit perturbed.

“Over Thanksgiving last year. I had feelers out for Malik after Farida’s stoning, and got a promising hit the week before Thanksgiving. Malik was in Afghanistan. I took out him and most of his men. Three escaped. I’m guessing that’s how Yaman Moses found out it was me.”

She scooted onto his lap, framed his face, and shot him a look so filled with love and empathy, his chest ached. “I love you for hurting for Farida still. But you got Malik. He’ll never rape or kill again.”

“Thank you, my one Angel.” He kissed her palm.

She straightened and sighed. “Like father, like son. It’s rumored that Yaman raped his employees at whim. Only he favored young males. When Yaman had me, every time they came to take me to him, I braced myself for a gang rape. It never happened. You’ve never asked me that question, Satan. Why?”

“That was the first question I asked the Trinidad doctor, Dr. Michaels, after he finished examining you. He said your genitals weren’t bruised or swollen, and though he did a rape test, he expected it to be negative. I called him the day after we came back stateside. It was negative. Did anyone hurt you, sexually?” He kept his focus on her, checking for any telltale signs of guilt or shame.

She glanced at him. “The man who made me sign the legal documents to give control of my shares in the bank over to Yaman Moses felt me up. I spat at him.”

“Did you see any of Yaman’s men?”

She glowered at him. “I told Rutger when he debriefed me, no. Except for Yaman, everyone wore hoods. You think we’ll ever find out what happened to those documents?”

“No. But. I can guarantee you that they’ll destroyed them. It’s too dangerous to keep those documents.”

He didn’t intend to let her know that he was actively hunting the English accented man she’d described and the asshole who’d felt her up after forcing her to sign the documents. There was a slim to none chance of finding them, but he’d keep trying for the rest of his life.

“I’m curious about something. Why did you still have a disposable cell when we met?”

She blushed. “Because the telephone sales guys kept coming onto me and they confused me. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure what plan or service provider to choose. I hate stuff like that.”

“You’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”

“That’s so condescendingly macho. Short people are cute. It’s impossible to be tall
and
cute.”

Her narrow-eyed glower proved cuter than a button, but he wisely refrained from saying that. Instead, he changed the topic. “What’re you going to do about Haven? And your ‘Hostess with the Mostest’ stint at WBCN?”