We leave the high-rise in the middle of a caravan of a dozen black SUVs.
At the exit of the parking garage, half of them turn left. The other half turn right. At the next block, the same thing happens, until we’re accompanied by only two other cars as we speed out of town.
It’s an evasive technique. I get it. I also get the tension in the car. Both Declan, beside me, and Kieran, driving, are wound tight as springs. I know they’re on the lookout for anyone who might try to jump us in a surprise attack or follow us to our new destination.
What I don’t get is how wound up I am, too.
Not for me. For Declan. For what might happen to him. He could be arrested. He could be shot. He could be taken prisoner and tortured by a rival gang. And I’d be helpless to do anything about any of it.
I hate being helpless.
I hate being nervous, too.
In fact, I’m finding quite a few things to hate in this new landscape called “caring,” most of which has to do with the changes in myself.
How can you be a badass when you’re constantly worried about someone else?
Declan notices my anxiety and squeezes my hand.
“We’ll be there soon.”
“How far is it?”
“We’ll take a helicopter from the airport. From there, it’s a one-hour flight.”
“To?”
“Martha’s Vineyard.”
He watches my face closely as I digest that information, his fingers tight around mine.
“How long have you had a home on Martha’s Vineyard?”
“A few days.”
I arch my brows, surprised. “Days?”
His tone dry, he says, “I didn’t know how many of your ex-lovers would attempt to shoot their way into my building.”
“You move pretty fast, don’t you?”
“Once I’m motivated, at the speed of light,” he murmurs, his gaze locked to mine.
“And now you’re motivated?”
“You know I am.”
“By me?”
“Don’t be coy.”
“But I’m so cute when I’m being coy.”
He reaches up and caresses my cheek. “Are you worried?”
“Hell, yes.”
“About what?”
“That you’ll die of your advanced age, and I’ll have to find a Realtor on short notice to unload this lover’s pied-à-terre you bought.”
Knowing I didn’t want to admit I was worried about what might happen to him, he chuckles. “It’s hardly a pied-à-terre.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s a ten-thousand-square-foot estate on six acres.”
My lips part, but no sound comes out.
He smiles at my shock. “On the beach. With its own helipad. The Obamas have a place nearby.”
Overwhelmed, I say faintly, “Oh, good. We can have cocktails together, talk about world peace.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“You’re registered to vote as a Libertarian. They’d probably think you’re a nutcase.”
I cover my face with my hands. “Man, that background check was really something else.”
He says softly, “Aye. It revealed someone fascinating. A woman who marches to the beat of her own drum.”
I drop my hands and look at him. “You’re saying I’m eccentric.”
“I’m saying you’re an individual, above all else.”
“No, above all else, I’m smarter than you, remember?”
“You’re also crazy about me.”
Flustered by the burn in his eyes, I glance away. “Or maybe just crazy.”
He leans over and kisses my flushed cheek. Into my ear, he murmurs, “You’re worried I’ll get hurt. Which means you’re crazy about me. Admit it. I want to hear you say the words.”
“If you’re going to be smug about it, I’ll remind you that I worry about Stavros, too.”
“Like someone worries about the family pet. He’s no more than a gerbil to you. I, on the other hand, am—”
“An egomaniacal monster?” I smile. “Agreed.”
He settles his hand around my throat and says in a husky voice, “A monster who wants you to tell him how you feel about him.”
I glance at Kieran in the driver’s seat. “Now?”
“Now. That Grand Canyon speech of yours has made me greedy for more.”
“I can’t replicate that. It was extemporaneous.”
“God, how I love it when you use all your big words.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“Think of one that describes how you feel about me. Just give me one, baby.”
His breath is hot on my neck. His hand is tight around my throat. His voice is low and rough, and all of it turns me on like a light switch has been thrown inside my body.
I close my eyes and search for the perfect word to describe how he makes me feel. “Intoxicated.”
He takes my mouth, kissing me hungrily. We go over a bump in the road and break apart, but our faces are still close together. Our eyes are locked.
He says, “You’re not the only one.”
“I know.”
“Have you ever been here before?”
“To Martha’s Vineyard? No.”
“Don’t hide. You know what I’m asking.”
His eyes are so intense. I feel exposed. Naked. And disoriented, like I’m tumbling down into a deep, dark hole. “You know I haven’t.”
“Say it.”
“You really like to get right into it at the weirdest times, don’t you? We’re not even alone.”
“Say it.”
I can tell he won’t be satisfied until I give him what he wants. So I lean close to his ear and obey him.
“No, I’ve never been here before. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I’ve never lost myself, or wanted to lose myself like I want to lose myself in you. And I’ve never trusted a man, including my father. So if you break my heart, gangster, just know that you’ll be the first and last to do it. Nobody before you has ever been able to even scratch it, and nobody will be able to pick up the shattered pieces behind you if you leave.”
He exhales hard. He takes my face in his hands. His eyes are bright and exultant, brilliantly blue.
He pronounces gruffly, “I’ll never leave. Because you’re going to be my wife.”
“Holy shit.”
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
“Then make it a yes.”
“I’m not wife material.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“I see. So you’ll kidnap me into marriage?”
“Why are you getting angry?”
“Because your arrogance is larger than the entire known universe.”
“It’s the next logical step.”
“Sure, if we’d been together more than four seconds.”
“I won’t live long, Sloane. I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly.”
That puts the brakes on the conversation faster than anything else he could’ve said. Shocked, I say, “Are you sick?”
“No. I’m the new head of an international criminal empire. My expected lifespan has just been drastically reduced. My predecessor didn’t make it a year in his position. How much longer do you think I’ll get?”
Panic forms a cold, hard ball in the pit of my stomach. “Longer than that, if you’re careful.”
“I’m not careful. It’s not in my nature to be. I’m lucky I’ve lasted this long, in fact. But the clock is ticking, and it’s getting loud.”
I can’t decide if I should be horrified or if I should hit myself over the head. What he’s saying makes total sense, and of course I knew all of it, but hearing him say it out loud right after he dropped a bombshell proposal is way too much.
I sit up straighter, shaking his hands off my face. “Let me get this straight. You think it would be a good idea for me to marry you—let’s not even get started on all the hilarious issues about how we met, and the vast expanse of time since that happened—knowing full well that in a few short months or years, I’d be a widow?”
His brows draw together. His lips thin. He goes into his classic glower mode as fast as two fingers snapping. “You’d be my sole heir. You’d get everything I own—”
I cut him off with an acid laugh. “Oh, we’re talking about money again! You seem to be under the impression that the only thing women care about is cash, which is less than charming. But I can assure you, I don’t give a shit about how much money you have or would leave to me in the event of your untimely death.”
My sarcasm makes his patience snap. “I know you don’t care about the bloody money! But it might make your life easier once I’m gone!”
My heart pounds. My hands shake. I want so badly to sock him right in the nose. I manage to keep my voice steady, though everything inside me is churning.
“The only thing that would make any of this easier is if you weren’t who you are. But that’s impossible. So let’s not entertain hypotheticals about futures that can never happen.”
Nostrils flared and lips thinned, Declan looks like a bull with a rider on its back about to explode from a holding gate.
“And don’t glare at me, either. If you want to drop me off on the next corner, that’s fine.”
As it turns out, that was the exact wrong thing to say. He regards me with entire cities burning to the ground in his eyes.
Pulling me close with a hand wrapped around the back of my neck, he growls, “I’m not dropping you anywhere, hellcat.”
I flatten my hands over his chest and push. It’s useless. I might as well be trying to move a mountain. “I hate that nickname, by the way.”
“No, you don’t. You fucking love it. And you hate that you love it. Get used to being seen, and being with a man who won’t let you hide, and who won’t cower when you lash that barbed tongue of yours.”
He crushes his mouth to mine.
I’m starting to get that this is going to be what’s politely called a volatile relationship.
I break away. He allows it, but only just. I fold my arms across my chest and stare straight ahead out the windshield, trying to get my ragged breathing under control.
He says darkly, “Why don’t you try some box breathing? I’ve heard it’s helpful in stressful situations.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Kieran glance back at me in the rearview mirror. If he’s worried his boss is about to get his eyes scratched out, he’s right.
The remainder of the ride to the airport is spent in silence. Thick, tense, burning silence. The left side of my face is peeling off in layers due to Declan’s blistering stare.
We come to a screeching stop at the heliport. I’m removed from the car by a tense Declan and led across the tarmac to a big black helicopter that looks like it was made to transport military troops. He opens the passenger door, settles me into the seat, buckles me in, and kisses me. Hard.
Then he says gruffly, “Please don’t freeze me out. Be angry all you want, but don’t shut down on me. I need you right now. I won’t be able to think straight if you don’t communicate with me.”
I’m such a wuss. That softens me up like microwaved butter.
“Okay,” I say, looking into his searching eyes. “But just because I’m not freezing you out doesn’t mean I’m not breaking vases inside my head.”
He kisses me again, this time more softly. “I know,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Then he slams shut my door, trots around to the other side, and gets in the pilot’s seat. He buckles himself in and starts flipping switches. He gestures to a pair of green headphones resting on a stick on the dashboard, or whatever the console of a helicopter is called.
“Put those on.”
“Don’t tell me you’re flying this thing.”
“Of course I am.”
Of course he is. Why am I even surprised?
Looking over at me, he smiles. “I told you I was in the military.”
“You didn’t say you were Tom Cruise in Top Gun.”
“Didn’t I? Must’ve forgotten to mention it. Now put on your headphones.”
He dons his own pair of headphones and hits a switch that starts the engines. Above us, huge black blades begin to move in slow circles, quickly picking up speed.
I watch him go through the preflight checks with a deep sense of awe. I thought he was pretty macho before, but this…
Well, this wins the macho war. My ovaries are screaming in glee like a bunch of playground kids on sugar highs.
We lift off, rising into the twilight sky in a roar and a blast of wind that scatters the leaves on the tarmac and sends dust blasting out in a wave. Above us, the rotors beat a thundering whump whump whump that matches the pounding of my heart. When I look over at Declan, he’s staring straight ahead, concentrating on the flight path.
He’s grinning.
The ache in my cheeks means I’m grinning, too.
He glances over. “Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.”
“I’m thinking we’re a couple of lunatics.”
That makes him chuckle. “Aye. But my crazy matches your crazy. That’s why it works.”
I look down at the diamond tennis bracelet he clasped around my wrist before we left. It glitters, catching the waning light and sending a shower of colorful sparks across the windows.
For a moment, I’m blinded. Then the sparks clear, and I lift my gaze to the horizon. It stretches off across the city and out to the sapphire bay. The Atlantic is a rippling ribbon of dark blue far beyond.
I wish Nat were here to see this.
I miss my best friend with a fierce, sudden ache. An ache that worsens when I consider that she lives in New York now. There won’t be any more girls’ nights out at Downrigger’s on the lake, giggling over cocktails and scarfing down shrimp enchiladas. There won’t be any spontaneous shopping trips, or coffee runs, or movie nights.
There won’t be any anything, because she’s in love with Kage.
Which wouldn’t have been a problem before, but Kage and Declan are mortal enemies. Which means that if I stay with Declan…
There won’t be any more me and Nat.
Out of nowhere, it hits me with a force like a wrecking ball. A sledgehammer slams into my chest. I can barely draw a breath.
If I’m really going to be with Declan, it won’t simply be an “issue” we’ll all have to work through. Neither Kage nor Declan will allow us girls to hang out like it was business as usual. My friendship with Nat will be over.
In fact, I might never see her again.
Impossible. I won’t let that happen. She won’t let it happen, either. We’ll figure out a way.
I look over at Declan, so calm and confident as he handles the helicopter, and remember his strange smile when the TV reporter was talking about the body found at the dump. I remember the vengeance tattoo on his chest. I remember the elation in his eyes when he asked me who I belonged to, and I answered, “You.” The elation and the triumph.
Like he’d won.
Because he had.
This man who calls himself a monster kidnapped me and claimed me. He took me to his bed. He saved me from a rival gang, protected me while I was in the hospital, gave me a choice between yes and no, gave me things I didn’t even know I needed.
Gave me a promise that he’d do anything I asked.
I told him the only thing I wanted was for him to not hurt Stavros, but now I’m thinking there will be more items to add to that list.
Starting with a promise that he won’t ever go after Kage.
And I’ve got to get Nat make Kage promise the same thing.
In the middle of a war, no less.
I wonder if Declan knew all this when he said it was going to be messy.
