Hurricane Read online

  Samuel, having watched and listened to Oscar’s instructions, picked up the second Uzi. Lenka took a Ka-Bar.

  Ry had second and third thoughts about putting these men and Kev in danger. Tesoro Mio wasn’t theirs to protect. Addison wasn’t theirs to protect. If any of them died because of him, he’d have a fucking hard time living with himself. But since they’d all agreed to go in guns blazing, he was grateful to have backup.

  “Doesn’t mean they won’t be down here any second to see what’s taking him so long. Everyone ready?” Ry outlined a brief plan—basically shoot first, ask questions later. They tweaked, made a few suggestions, and everyone was in agreement. Although it felt like they’d been belowdecks for fucking hours, a quick glance at his watch told him it had only been sixteen minutes since they’d surfaced from the dive. It was the longest sixteen minutes of his life.

  It was damn hard to push thoughts of Addy out of his mind. He was proceeding on the assumption that she was alive. That had to hold him until he saw it with his own two eyes.

  “Everyone know what you’re supposed to do and where you have to be?”

  “Incoming,” Oscar said urgently, going to the window. He held down the blinds to look out. “Three choppers. ETA probably ten minutes.”

  Could be the good guys. Whoever that may be. Could be more bad guys. Either way it put one hell of a countdown on getting what they needed to done. “Shit.” Ry sucked in a breath. Addy, I’m coming. “Good thing you have ears like a bat. Game on.”

  * * *

  Addison’s hands were free. She couldn’t feel them, but they were no longer bound. Even though time seemed to be ticking loudly in her head, she needed a few minutes to breathe through the burning pain before she did … whatever the hell she could do.

  For several minutes she thought the sound she heard was her own blood pumping through her veins. It took a few more minutes to realize what she was hearing was the whop-whop-whop of an approaching helicopter.

  God. Please let it be Paras Sharma returning with the cavalry. Interpol, Maldivian officials—anybody.

  She had no idea where Naveen was, but since he hadn’t bothered to return and the men sent with him hadn’t come back, either, Addison presumed—no, hoped—that Ry and the crew had done something with them. Of course, it being Naveen, he might be in hiding fearing the repercussions of not returning with Morimoto’s paintings.

  Morimoto paced, anger seeping out of every sweating pore. His bulk blocked and unblocked the streams of sunshine coming through the windows. “Where the fuck are my paintings?” he demanded, taking up all the available floor space with his back-and-forth movements. She didn’t know who he was addressing. The second batch of guys he’d sent down? She didn’t see any sort of communications devices, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t using something.

  None of the three men still with him responded. How many more of his men could she not see? Had they swarmed the ship? Killed Ry, the entire crew and dive team?

  Someone had disconnected the cameras. And whoever it was, was just as blind as the three armed men and Morimoto on the bridge. Beyond the window four more men stayed near the big black helicopter, also pacing. Everyone was on edge. Not good.

  Worse, and scary as hell, no one was piloting the ship. At full throttle, Tesoro Mio’s hull was carving a white, frothing path through the crystalline water, full speed ahead. Addison hoped to hell they were headed in the direction of open water, because the Maldives comprised dozens of small islands, atolls, and rings of coral reefs. Lots and lots of places to run aground and split the hull wide open.

  So—three men with Uzis spread equidistant around the perimeter, Morimoto, all four hundred lardy pounds of him, waddling up and down the middle of the space, and Hollis, shoes kicked off, sitting on the floor near the chart table, head buried on her knees, shoulders heaving. Real tears, and for once she was smart enough not to be dramatic about it.

  Morimoto was light on his feet for a man the size of a medium water buffalo. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  Addison didn’t turn when she heard the snick of a door opening behind her, or when she felt a cool draft on the back of her legs. Someone was opening the hidden door from Tony’s captain’s quarters and since only she, Ry, and the crew knew about it, it could only be one of the good guys. Her heart leapt.

  The sound of the helicopter seemed to be getting closer, but she couldn’t see anything beyond the wraparound windows other than baby-blue sky and a few fluffy white cumulus clouds over the forward bow.

  Morimoto passed within a few feet of her, and, belying his slow gait, quick as a striking snake reached out and grabbed her chin in his cupped hand. He brought her face close to his, dragging her to stand on her toes. “If the prince isn’t back in five minutes,” he snarled, spitting into her face. “I’m going to take pleasure in killing first your mum, then you.”

  His fat fingers, smelling metallically like sweat and cigarettes, painfully squeezed her cheeks. Addison looked into his dark, light-eating eyes. “How will that make him bring them any faster?” Or that was what she tried to say. God. If he gripped her face any harder, the bastard was going to break her jaw.

  “Have a death wish, little girl?”

  Addison whipped her hands from behind her back and grabbed his ears, one in each hand, digging her nails into his scalp. Before he knew what hit him, she brought her knee up as hard as she could and tried to knee him in the balls. There was too much fat to have any impact. Her knee hit his upper thigh. He squealed, a high-pitched shriek, more of fury than pain, and swung her around so she went flying. Her back hit the console with a painful thud, then she rolled to the floor onto her knees.

  Addison lost it. She was up on her feet and running at him, head down like a Pamplona bull with a war cry before she thought it through. She almost broke her neck as she hit him full on his fat belly, taking them both to the floor hard enough to make the windows shake. Straddling him, she managed to pin one fat arm under her knee; the other she dug into his chest, and she dug her long nails into his eye.

  He rolled over, smothering her. Addison pummeled everything she could reach. Years of running had given her strong legs, and she used them now to twist his body. She almost gave herself a hernia, but she got him on his back like a beached whale.

  She vaguely heard one of his men laugh, having apparently too much fun watching her as they rolled and assuming Morimoto was in no danger, to try to put a stop to what was happening. Addison ended up on top. With her knees spread as she straddled him, she pummeled him in the head and shoulders with every ounce of strength she had, slapping his ears hard enough to make them ring.

  Vaguely, beyond the sound of her own panting, and Morimoto’s grinding teeth, she heard a loud shot, followed by another, and prayed to God whoever had just entered the cabin wasn’t someone who’d shoot her in the back of the head. Yells registered, and she still didn’t let go of the fat man. She kept punching Morimoto. She didn’t feel any pain. Good, she wasn’t the one who’d gotten shot. Yet. She’d never in her life felt this kind of black, blind rage.

  “Addy! Addison! Stop!” Hard arms wrapped around her waist and she was plucked unceremoniously off Morimoto. “You knocked him, out, love. See that, sweetheart? Out cold.”

  Addison wrapped her arms around Ry’s neck as he cradled her in his arms. “Rydell.”

  “I’ve got you, sweet love. I’ve got you.” He buried his face in her hair. “Is that his blood or yours? Are you hurt, Addy?”

  She didn’t lift her face from where it was buried against his throat. “Oh,” she said with relish. “I hope it’s his.”

  Twenty-five

  Hours later, hips wrapped in a towel that hung to his knees, chest bare and still damp from a hurried shower, Ry went next door and tiptoed into Addy’s dimly lit cabin. “How is she?”

  She was wrapped in a short black silk robe, the stark white bandages on her wrists a shocking reminder of where she’d been a few short hours earlier. His heart
clutched, and his mouth went dry with remembered fear. Ry drank her in like a man who’d been in the Sahara for a year suddenly seeing a lush oasis.

  Kevin, seated in a chair pulled up beside the bed, swung her bare feet off the mattress and got to her feet. “Banged up, bruised, those wrists are a mess, but otherwise feeling triumphant.” She shot him a grin. “I see you dressed for the party. Good man. Everyone gone?”

  “Yeah. All clear.”

  “I’ll get Georgeo to fill me in,” Kevin told him breezily. “Preferably lying down with a bottle of wine, soft music, and the drapes closed. I’ve had enough excitement to last me awhile. I’ll leave you two to play doctor.”

  “Hey!” Addy, leaning against a mound of pillows, sat up to wave at them. Like himself, she’d recently showered, and she smelled of sweet, aromatic rain-drenched jasmine. “I’m right here, guys.” Her wet hair hung down her back, showing the pure oval of her face. No makeup, and she was so pretty she stopped Ry’s heart. Dropping her hand, she curled her bare legs under her ass like a mermaid, giving him a nice view of her firm, tanned thighs and the shadowy promise of heaven.

  Kev turned to smile at her. “Now that your honey’s here, and you can see he’s safe and sound, get some rest.”

  With a spring in her step, Kevin left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  There were a thousand things they needed to discuss. Issues—serious issues—they needed to resolve. But right now all Ry gave a flying fuck about was affirming that they were both alive.

  He rested a knee on the mattress, his towel falling to the floor unnoticed as he held her gaze. “Wanna rest?”

  Her lashes fluttered as she looked down at his erect dick. Hell, he was always in a state of semi-arousal with Addy. No matter the circumstances.

  With a Mona Lisa smile she lifted her gaze, slowly untying the knot of the sash around her waist. “No.”

  He crawled up the bed to lean over her on all fours. “Wanna play doctor?”

  Turning very serious, she lay back, angling her legs between his braced arms and knees so she was supine underneath the bridge of his body. “I do need a full exam. Need suggestions where to start?”

  “How bad are those wrists?”

  “They’re bandaged, Ry. They’ll be fine. Just raw for now.” She arched her hips against his. “Can we talk about my wrists later? Maybe you should examine the places the doctor didn’t touch just now.” He really did want to do a full body check. Even though a doctor had been in to see her, and he’d sent Kev to keep her company and make sure she was okay until he could get there. Still, he wanted to check her over to be sure. More, he wanted to make sure she was unscathed emotionally as well as physically.

  “Hmm. This will take a while. I have to do thorough and methodical inspection. Let me see…” Using both hands, he slid his palms between the lapels of the robe, gliding the slick fabric slowly over her shoulders to expose her pretty breasts.

  Her nipples peaked under his gaze.

  “You have a bruise here.” Dropping his head, Ry kissed the dark fingerprints imprinted on her shoulder. He’d like to kill Morimoto slowly and feed him piece by piece to the sharks, but considering that Interpol had him now, that option was off the table. “Better?”

  “Hmm. It hurts right here…” she said dolefully as she shrugged the black silk off one shoulder. She used her chin to indicate her breast.

  Trailing his mouth down the slope of her breast, he murmured his pleasure as her fingers tangled in his hair. She cupped the back of his head, her fingers cool as she slid them against his scalp.

  I love you I love you I love you. The sweet song sang through Ry’s veins like a heavenly chorus as he curled his tongue around the hard bud of her nipple, which made her back arch.

  Cupping the other breast, he played one nipple with his fingers while ravishing the other with his tongue and teeth. Her breath was just as uneven as his own as he stroked a hand down her hip, following it with lips and tongue over her silky-smooth fragrant skin.

  Her voice was husky as she pointed to her unblemished hip. “It hurts right here.” Ry gave her hip some love as his hand curled under her to cup her ass cheek. Firm, resilient flesh filled his palm. Each place he kissed warmed as his mouth explored the hills and valleys.

  Twenty-six

  Moonlight, cool and romantic, flooded the cabin, washing over their tangled bodies in a play of silver and black. Addison lazily trailed her fingertips down the center of Rydell’s chest, still damp from exertion, evidenced by their sweaty bodies and irregular breathing. Even after all the exertion, her touch caused his nipples to grow hard.

  He caught her wandering hand, not ready for such light touches yet. She knew him so well. She threw her arm across his waist and hooked her ankle over his calf. In turn he ran his palm up and down her spine. Dropping a kiss to the top of her head, he asked quietly, “Were you worried about me?”

  There were a hundred questions in the innocuous inquiry. “Not at all.” She kept her voice light. “Were you worried about me?”

  “Not at all.” Rydell echoed her tone. “When I saw you sitting on top of the Morimoto mountain, beating the living crap out of him, bare-knuckled, I cheered.”

  She smiled. “You did not.”

  “No. I didn’t.” The smile left his voice and he picked up the hand she had across his middle. Ry threaded his fingers through hers. Palm-to-palm. They were already heart-to-heart. “My heart stopped. I had tunnel vision. All I saw was my wife with her bleeding wrists and bruises—” His voice snagged. “My wife doing a job I should’ve been doing.”

  Addison tightened her fingers in his. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” No. I want you to fight for me. Would he ever understand the difference?

  “No, you don’t,” he said, his voice low and raw. “Since you beat that shithead almost senseless. But I want to fight your battles with you, Addy. I want to be the male to your female. I want to protect you from assholes like Darshi, and monsters like Morimoto. I want to lay you down on a white mink rug and shower you with scented rose petals. I want to light a thousand white candles around you, and see your skin warm and glow when I touch you. I want to brush your skin lightly, and ride you hard. I want you to allow me to do things for you—not because you’re helpless and need my assistance, but because it gives us both pleasure. I want the sun and the moon and the stars. With you. Now and always.” He brought their clasped hands to his mouth, kissing her fingers.

  “I love you Addy. Say it,” he whispered achingly. “Tell me you love me. I need to hear it.”

  God, she knew her denial was hurting him, but she couldn’t say it. Couldn’t allow the words to float out there. “I can’t.”

  His entire body flinched as if she’d struck him, and she felt his physical withdrawal. “Jesus, Addy, why the hell not? You love me, I know you do. Everything else can be worked out.”

  She shook her head. How could she ever explain this well enough for him to understand? For him to accept? “I can’t bear to feel that kind of pain again. Losing Sophie. Losing you…”

  “You’re not going to lose me. Ever.”

  Pulling away from him, she sat up. She moved a few feet away and tugged at the rumpled leopard-print sheet until she could cover herself. A thin piece of silk wasn’t going to fix how exposed she felt emotionally. She pushed her hair out of her face, and found that her hand shook.

  She met his gaze. Hurt. Bewilderment. Pain. Her throat ached. “But I did lose you. I didn’t see or hear from you for more than a year, Rydell! You were gone. I was already in mourning, my loss unbearable. You shredded what was left of my heart.”

  “You know if I’d—”

  “I know.” If Hollis and Naveen hadn’t lied. Hadn’t conned both of them. If fate hadn’t ripped them apart. “But I also know how it felt. I can’t do that again. I can’t. I can’t give you everything in me in the hope that you’ll keep it safe. That something or someone won’t come between us again, and that you won�
�t fucking … fight for me!” There. She’d said it out loud. Put it out there in the universe. “When the worst happened, you abandoned me. You didn’t fight long and hard for me. You freaking gave up.”

  He sat up, all hard muscle and bronze skin. Rubbing his palm over his mouth, he watched her with haunted eyes. His hand dropped heavily to his lap. Unlike her, he was exposed, naked physically and emotionally.

  She hurt for both of them. Chest tight, she returned his look with eyes burned dry from a year’s worth of crying. She was cried out.

  “Oh, God, Addy.” He reached over for her hand, then withdrew before he made contact. A good thing, because she knew if he touched her now she’d shatter into a million pieces. “That’s what this is about? You think I didn’t fight hard enough for you?”

  “If the positions were reversed I know damn well I wouldn’t have stopped looking for you. I’d have found you wherever the fuck you were, and forced you to talk to me. Before I walked away. Before I filed for divorce. Before I—” Damn it, she felt the sharp prick of tears behind her lids. “Before I gave up. I wouldn’t have given up, Ry. Ever! I would’ve been there to comfort you over our loss. I would’ve held you, and loved you through it all.”

  “I—You’re right. I gave up too easily. I should’ve moved heaven and earth to find you. Talk to you. I shouldn’t have believed that you’d file for divorce without discussing it with me first. I shouldn’t have—Fuck it. I should have. Everything you just said. I should have done all that, Addy, and more. A hundred, excuses, valid or not, aren’t good enough. You are absobloodylutely right. I fucked up.”

  This time he did pick up her hand. “I fucked up, Addy. I fucked up badly. But please forgive me. I can’t go through another year without you. I just fucking can’t do it. You’re my life. My everything. Without you I won’t make it.”

  As torn as she was, Addison instinctively turned her hand so that their fingers were clasped on her bare knee. Rydell’s hands were cold as ice. She’d felt her own pain and grief inside herself, but now Ry’s pain and grief were like a physical entity surrounding him.