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  She fought the restraint of his grip, but Gray didn’t let go, even when she growled her annoyance deep in her chest. He felt her hand fist, open, fist again in the manacle of his fingers as she fed off the kiss.

  He stroked his open palm down the arching cords of her throat as Hannah sank into the kiss. Shifting his upper body to gain better access, he trailed his hand over the smooth skin beneath the V of her shirt to find her breasts. Sliding his fingers beneath the thin satin of her bra, he cupped one breast as his heart beat triple time at the warm, and familiar weight. Skimming his thumb over her hard nipple, something inside him uncoiled at her automatic response.

  His chest ached. His brain ached. His balls fucking ached. He thought he’d never be here again. Been sure of it. Each hard, painful throb of his heart echoed her name. Hannah. Hannah. Hannah.

  The reality far surpassed the fantasy as he grazed her lips with his teeth, before sweeping inside to explore the hot wet cavern.

  She bit his tongue. Hard.

  CHAPTER FOUR - RICOCHET

  “Damn. That hurt!” Gray lifted his head, reluctantly disengaging from the kiss.

  Hannah dragged in a deep, shuddering breath. “It was supposed to.” She gave him a furious look. Eyes dilated and glittering, she didn’t move so much as a muscle, although he knew she wanted to pummel the crap out of him and buck him off her. Preferably into the South Pacific Ocean.

  The stain of hot pink flushing her cheeks made her eyes look bluer, more intense. “Get your damned hand off my boob, Pumice. I mean it.”

  Yeah. He saw that she did. Reluctantly he uncurled his fingers, so happy where they were with the hard peak of her nipple pressing against his palm. He took his time. But he couldn’t make a grope last forever.

  “You bastard.” Hannah thumped his back with both fists. It hadn’t taken long to piss her off enough for her to forget restraint. “That was a lousy thing to do.”

  He wanted her to fight him. Just so he could restrain her and steal another kiss. But Hannah knew him just as well as he knew her. She wasn’t going to give him that opening. He gave her the smile he knew annoyed her. “You loved it.”

  “Which is why it was a lousy thing to do. I have no desire to be kissed by you. Ever. I won’t wrestle you, but get the hell off me. We can’t lie like this all night, and you don’t have the element of surprise to sneak another kiss. Get the hell off me.”

  Reluctantly Gray rolled off and on his feet, then pulled her up before she could protest him touching her. The brief contact flooded his brain with images of the two of them entwined, of her under him, eyes liquid with love, soft skin flushed and damp from their lovemaking. Of Hannah straddling his hips, her cool blonde hair a private silken cave sheltering them and their love. Her slender hands, so delicate and talented on the strings of a cello, touching every part of his body.

  In the darkest nights, when missing Hannah had been an intense, unbearable, painful ache, he would relive the brush of her fingers, followed by the soft skim of her lips all over his body.

  Yanking her hand free, she glared at him.

  As much as he wanted to hash out the past, fix it, now was not the time, and definitely not the place. Gray rubbed his fist over the deep ache in his chest. Would there ever be a time and place? “There isn’t time for niceties, Tink, cut to the chase. What’s GQ involved in now?”

  “You have the gall to ask me that? Or anything else for that matter, when the last thing you said to me, was, ‘See you next week, Tink.’ That was three years ago.”

  “I came.” He’d left the hospital AMA the moment he could stand for longer than thirty seconds without passing out, the ring box in his pocket. Then he’d seen her kissing some guy at the store as if she was mining for his goddamned tonsils. His mother had casually mentioned at dinner that night that Hannah had found a wonderful boyfriend.

  The pain in his chest had been so excruciating, he hadn’t felt his stitches tearing. He’d left the house before Hannah came home next door, before he made a fool of himself, and because he couldn’t hide the spread of blood on his shirt.

  Fuck it. The image of Hannah lifting a wedding veil for her husband’s kiss made him want to punch the wall. Since he was already fucked, he’d gone back to work.

  “You missed your own damn wedding. Without a call. A note. A damn carrier pigeon!” she said, voice flat, eyes cold.

  “You refused to talk to me.”

  “A year late? Did you really think you could just show up like that, out of the blue, and I’d want to listen to anything you had to say? I’d moved on Gray. I was- am- done with you. I really am.”

  None of them had forgiven him, and Hannah, after a disgusted look, had refused any communications.

  Just because he understood the pain he’d caused her, understood seeing him again was reconstituting that pain, didn’t mean it hurt him any less.

  He’d cut off his left ball not to hurt her. Brushing a strand of her pale hair out of eyes shooting death rays up at him. Seeing that unfamiliar look made his chest feel exactly the way it did when a bullet struck his LockOut. Dull, throbbing fucking pain. “You hair’s shorter.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Slapping his hand away, she shot him a disbelieving look. “You’re in the wrong place, at the wrong damned time, and you want to talk about my hair? You’ve come to steal the frigging diamonds, haven’t you? Damn it, Grayson. I’m out of the rescuing business. All I came to do is get Colton’s share back. Whatever you’re here to do, whatever your brother is involved in, count me out.”

  Grayson had no damned idea what diamonds she was talking about. His mind went there. Diamonds to pay for the weapons on order for the coup? Jesus. Getting their hands on the money would certainly delay Stonefish’s plans. Long enough to expose where he was?

  “Go ahead and steal the rest, but Colton’s share belongs to me, and I’m not leaving without them.”

  He made a frustrated, inarticulate sound. “Christ, for once can’t you just take my word for it—I’m the good guy, Tink.”

  “When did that happen?” she asked sarcastically. “Were you rehabilitated during your incarceration?”

  His jaw clenched. “I’ve never been in jail.” Not jail. But he’d been held prisoner for a few months in a hellhole, where all that had sustained him were his fist, his imagination and memories of Hannah.

  He’d been captured by the very man he was trying to capture. Just a month before he was supposed to return to marry her. Tortured, and held for three months, then rescued by a T-FLAC exfil team. Hospitalized, it had taken another six months before he was capable of checking himself out of the hospital, and onto a plane.

  Too fucking late.

  Her blue glare was molten. “I’ll call your parole officer to confirm that.”

  Grayson had spent half his life bailing his younger brother out of one scrape after another, years lusting after his brother’s best friend, and now his teeth clenched so hard he was sure the enamel was cracking.

  “I didn’t even know Colton was involved. I’m not here for either of you, believe me.” Jesus fuck. Every time his brother got some wild investment, harebrained opportunity, he went to the Moms and used good looks and charm to con them out of a huge sum. They’d finally stopped enabling him and told him no more. So much for that vow. “How much did he take this time?”

  “All of it,” she said bitterly. “He used his Power of Attorney to access- None of your damn business. I’m dealing with him. I can’t image you’d care enough to follow me here.”

  “If I’d known you weren’t safely at home in Chicago minding the store, or had an inkling where you were, hell yes, I would have. However, I had no idea either of you were here. And I wish to hell you weren’t.” In fact, he wished them both a thousand miles away.

  “Sorry to inconvenience you.”

  A muscle in his jaw jerked, as, beyond the closed door, he heard the faint pops of gunfire. “You have no idea.”

  Gray knew what was going on a
ll around them. Anyone coming between his men and the three principals was being eliminated. The body count would be high. Shit. What a clusterfuck.

  His men were talking in shorthand in his ear. He should be up on deck with them, securing the prisoners for transportation. But with their communication, he also heard gunshots, running feet, shouts. Since he dared not risk leaving Hannah anywhere onboard unattended while he did his thing, his only choice was to stay glued to her side until he could get her- and GQ- onto one of the waiting trawlers.

  He activated his comm. “Let me know when everyone’s secure. I have the woman with me. My idiotic brother is here, too. Tall, blond. Looks like a movie star. Colton. Don’t scuff up his designer outfit. Bring him downstairs. Second cabin on the left.”

  “The woman?” Hannah gave him a hostile look, as he disconnected. “Lovely. So you’re not alone in this little venture, you brought thugs? Are you going to te-“

  He pressed a finger to her soft lips to silence her as his headset beeped discreetly in his ear. “Package secure.” Grazioso told him. “On our way.”

  Her expression tightened and she slapped his hand away from her face.

  “Sit-rep?” Keeping an eye on her, Gray listened to his teams as they reported in. They had everyone in the salon, ready for departure. “Take the packages and start processing. I’ll be right behind you.”

  While he talked, Hannah dropped to her knees, giving him a nice view of her jean-clad ass as she foraged under the bed, then rose to stand several feet further away, her insulin pen in her hand. A timely reminder of just how damned inconvenient—how fucking dangerous—this situation had become. Not just for a civilian, but this delicate, beautiful, sprite of a civilian. Hannah had type one diabetes.

  How many insulin pens did she have with her? She was nothing if not practical. If she’d expected to be here for a day or two, she would’ve brought enough for two weeks. Or had this little voyage to nowhere been a surprise? In which case, not enough. “How much insulin did you bring with you?”

  “Enough,” she told him flatly. Her snapping eyes said ‘what I do, and how I do it, are none of your fucking business.’

  She wasn’t his to worry about. His stomach knotted. He had to let it go.

  “Does what you’re doing here have anything to do with Colton’s new business partners? Because, just so you know, they insisted that he and the other two guys pay their share in loose diamonds. Which just adds another layer of wtf to this whole situation.”

  What the fuck was about right. “Diamonds can’t be traced. Or not easily anyway. And at that, the trail would lead to my idiotic brother and the other two morons who fell for this elaborate scam. These aren’t businessmen, and trust me, there’s no investment other than a dozen rocket launchers, crates of South African Amscor BXP submachine guns, and PPS43′s from Russia. These guys are Abadinista National Liberation Front, and they’re about to stage a coup that, if not stopped, will change the face of South America forever.”

  “Terrorists, Hannah,” he said, voice stone cold. “The diamonds are to fund a massive arms deal the ANLF has brokered, and the weapons they’ve been amassing for six months.”

  “They told Colton they’re building a fancy resort on a private island.” She chewed her lower lip, mulling over what he’d said. Grayson could practically hear the gears in her brain clacking.

  “While I’ve already stated my disapproval—vehemently—the model of the complex is upstairs in the salon,” she admitted coolly, chin up, eyes not quite so sure. “As much as I don’t like or trust them, I have to admit from what I’ve seen of the plans, their complex resort looks spectacular. Maybe this time GQ will surprise us all.”

  Grayson cocked a disbelieving brow. “Jesus, Hannah. Did you drink the Kool-Aid?”

  CHAPTER FIVE - RICOCHET

  Hannah kept her game face on. “I can do without the sarcasm,” she lifted her chin, keeping her gaze rock steady, as her tummy fluttered with unease.

  Grayson smelled of the ocean. Not soap, or cologne. Just sexy, salty potent male. His dark hair, short-cropped, and as shiny as a seal’s pelt, clung to his well-shaped head. The sheen of dark beard stubble reminded her of nights in his bed, and the morning after when he’d left pink marks all over her. That soft prickle against her skin excited her, and she’d begged him never to shave again.

  His face looked leaner than the last time she’d seen him. Two years ago, and for all of ninety seconds before she turned her back and walked away. Gray eyes, which used to look gentle and loving, were as cold as fog.

  A thin white scar at the corner of his mouth, and another on his tanned forehead showed he’d been in trouble before.

  He’d aged. Looked harder.

  He was a dangerous stranger now.

  She had a flash of memory of her pale fingers stroking down the crisp hair on his broad chest, her mouth trailing down the smooth skin of his abs. He was just-damn it- he was too male. Too damned appealing for his own good. And now he was just irritating as hell.

  “Of course I don’t buy everything they’re selling up there. I’m not the idiot,” she said with conflicting emotions. Everything Grayson was telling her resonated. Now she didn’t know if she should trust him or not. When the chips were down—and God only knew they were—would Grayson help? Or would he stick to his nefarious agenda? Because, by the look of him he’d come ready for a fight, and she had no idea whose side he was on.

  This whole situation was scary as hell.

  That she could debate this with a straight face just showed Hannah she still had an ounce of loyalty left for her friend. And that she was a great freaking actress, because as Gray spoke, she realized what he said made perfect sense, and that was the vibe she’d been picking up all along.

  “Where did they say they were taking you?” his voice was hard. Everything about him was hard. His pumice-gray eyes were shrewd and penetrating, missing nothing as he watched her like a wolf watched a fox.

  She could do without that freaking patronizing tone of voice, but Hannah met his gaze unwaveringly. “Apparently to see the progress of construction on their private island.” Hating him, she smiled sweetly, because whatever Grayson’s agenda here, and God only knew that could be anything, she had to get Colton and herself off the ship as quickly as possible. How, she wasn’t sure. But it would come to her.

  Soon, she hoped.

  His brow went up again. Irritating man. “Visiting a construction site? At eight at night, in the pitch dark?”

  Nobody could cock an eyebrow like Grayson Burke. It said many things, most of them rude and insulting. She’d been trying to master the skill for years.

  “Don’t be an ass.” She wanted to stay angry, she wanted to maintain the same level of hurt and disappointment, because if she started believing anything he said right now, it could be very, very dangerous. A lot of things could change in three years. She’d known him once, but she didn’t know this inscrutable, dangerous, enigma at all. “We’re seeing it in the morning.” Unless we’re all dead by then.

  “There’s not a damn thing on that island but an old boathouse,” Grayson said tightly. “The investors have been duped. The ANLF will take the stones and disappear. And more than likely, they’ll kill the ‘investors’ before they hightail it off the ship. Didn’t you find it suspicious that GQ had to pay in diamonds?”

  “I didn’t know about the form of payment until he showed me as we were boarding. He gave the pouch to some muscle-bound guy with a gun, a thick Spanish accent, dyed black hair, and a scowl.” She didn’t want to cry wolf, but perhaps now was a good time to mention the conversation she’d overheard.

  Unless Grayson was in on whatever was going on? His appearance here and now was way too freaking convenient as far as Hannah was concerned.

  Torn, she tried to picture the layout of the ship, and if she’d seen any lifeboats. There must be some on a ship this size…

  Okay. Hannah’s brain was in overdrive, Let’s just say, there really is
a bomb. Let’s say I have less than thirty minutes to find Colton, figure out how to get a lifeboat into the water- let’s just go ahead and say…The situation looks frigging hopeless.

  God. Used to being the person everyone looked to for solutions, this was going to be a dramatic and permanent fail.

  “Ignado Mauro. The head guy’s number two lieutenant. He’s the one we came for. Did you see what they did with the diamonds?”

  “They’re on the table next to the 3-D model of the resort. Or they were fifteen minutes ago when I came down here.”

  “Payment is diamonds, near model,” he told someone. Then addressed her. “My men will find them.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  “My men.”

  “Great.” Okay. More men. Two groups to evade now. Colton’s friends with their neck-less bodyguards, and Grayson with his “men”. How many? “Make sure they hold onto a third of them. I’m taking those home with me.” Pushing her hair off her face, she gave Grayson an up and down look. As much as she hated him, if he was the last person she saw before she died, she wanted to be in his arms, not talking about Colton. Ugh. Where had that thought come from? Shaking her head slightly, she tried to think clearly, “Your men, huh?”

  He had no right to look so good. He should be ravaged with shame, and bowed with unhappiness. Instead he looked tanned and handsome, and ridiculously buff in the thing he was wearing which looked like a skintight wetsuit. The matte black defined his broad shoulders, the ridges of his abs, and his strong arms and legs. Her eyes dropped to his groin, where his package was tucked away, the large bulge flattened behind a hard protective covering which she’d felt when he was on top of her.

  Seeing that bulge, brought a visceral muscle memory to her body, of his narrow hips pounding against her as he made love to her. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other-