And when we go, we go together, and it’s fucking loud.
I bellow at the ceiling as her walls grab on and wring me dry, her body twitching beneath me, her voice broken and hoarse. I collapse, dazed, breathless, and more in love with my wife than I thought possible. “I hate you,” I pant, pushing my face into her wet hair.
“I hate you more.” She can hardly speak. Can’t move. So I force myself up with some effort, slipping free on a wince. My dick’s still pulsing. Jesus, that was good. And so fucking needed.
“Stay there.” I reach for the shower gel, squeezing some across her back, and straddle her arse, starting to work her muscles back to life as I watch her profile, her cheek resting on her folded arms under her head. Her eyes are closed. Her lips parted to find air.
“You weren’t wearing your vest,” she says, remaining in her darkness. “You promised.”
“I don’t think a bulletproof vest would have saved me from a bomb, baby.” I push my thumbs firmly into her spine and work them up to her neck, her body rolling with them. “And there wasn’t time.”
“Why?”
My escape has been short-lived. “The Bear knows James is alive. James got a call.”
“What did he say?”
I feel her muscles harden under my touch. “Relax,” I order, massaging deeply. “Nothing. Only Beau’s name.” I swallow, watching my touch move across her shoulder blades. “He knows she’s James’s weak spot. As you are mine.”
She moves to turn over, so I get off her, resting my arse on my heels. “Is she okay?”
“A few scratches. She was on the street. We were nearly on the street.”
“Why wasn’t Beau with you?”
“She and James had an argument. Her ex was there when we charged in, so James’s already boiling blood bubbled over. Beau stormed out. We were a few too many paces behind.”
“So you only got out alive because James and Beau had an argument?” she asks, and I nod. That’s the crux of it. Although we only made it out by the skin of our teeth. “Danny, I feel like he’s getting closer and closer.” Her worry is warranted, and I won’t insult her by claiming otherwise. I puff out my cheeks, taking her hands and standing us up.
I get under the spray and soap myself down. That’s enough. “How was your day shopping?”
“Fine.” She sighs, frowning as she starts shampooing her hair. “We need to talk about Daniel.”
I still, worried. “What about him?”
“He’s a smart kid, Danny. There’s only so long we can keep the truth from him.” Her worry slips into a small smile. “He loved his jet ski, Mister.”
I nod, like it’s nothing. “Good,” I say gruffly, rinsing. I seize her jaw and her hands freeze in her hair. “Don’t worry about Daniel,” I order, kissing her hard. She should know better. I’ll protect that kid as vehemently as I protect her. “Now the boatyard’s nearly finished, he can try out his new ski.”
“I’m not comfortable with him being at the boatyard, Danny.”
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I step out and reach for a towel. I can’t claim being with us is the safest place for Daniel to be when there are bombs going off left and right. “You know me, Rose. I won’t allow him to see anything he shouldn’t see.” It’s a stark contrast to my childhood, where I saw all the things I definitely shouldn’t have seen.
She sighs. “I should check on Beau.”
I laugh a little. “Not tonight.” I dry off, our bed calling. Sleep calling. “We’re going to bed.”
She smiles, but it drops as she takes a soapy hand to her stomach.
I falter drying myself with the towel. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” She shudders. “I feel like I’ve been pounded by a very hard, very large dick.”
I grin. “You’re welcome,” I quip, satisfied and semi-sated. “I could binge on you forever, baby, and never feel full.” Her nose wrinkles as she steps under the spray to rinse her hair. “Meet me in bed. Naked.” I grin. “And let’s see how long you can resist me.”
* * *
I slept like a baby, but I don’t wake feeling refreshed and revitalized. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I drag my palms down my rough face, exhaling heavily. Rose is sprawled beautifully across the sheets. So peaceful. At least, she looks it. I fear she’s as churned up inside as I am.
Leaving her sleeping, I shower, dress, and make my way downstairs, texting Tank as I do, my face in my phone as I take the steps. I frown at the missed call from Leon ten minutes ago and call him back. “What’s up?” I ask, frowning harder when he starts to explain.
“You serious?”
“Dead serious, D-boss.”
“I’m sending Len over. When he gets there, you help him put the fucker in the yellow container.” I hang up and text Len as I hit the marble.
Look up.
And freeze.
What the fuck? I immediately move a step back. Actually, who the fuck? I take in the back of a slight, tall figure of the woman, her masses of blonde, tumbling curls cascading down her back, skimming her arse. Her sequin-embellished catsuit is blinding, her platform stilettos skyscrapers, putting her at least half a foot taller than I am. The new in-house whore?
I frown. She has rather large feet. And, come to think of it, wide shoulders.
I inhale, ready to ask her who the fuck she is and what the fuck she’s doing in my house when she swirls around.
I recoil, my mouth snapping shut.
“Oh hello,” she sings, dramatically flicking her hair over her shoulder. “And who might you be?”
I don’t like the cheeky smile, or the delight in her eyes. Like a goldfish, I stand there, blank, my feet automatically taking another step back. “Danny,” I murmur like a twat, looking around, before turning my wary eyes back onto her. Him. The man. The woman. What the fuck is going on? “And who might you be?” I ask, tilting my head, my persona no doubt nervous. I don’t do nervous, but it’s the way she’s . . . he’s . . . looking at me. Like I’m lunch.
“I’m—”
“This is my aunt Zinnea,” Beau says from behind me.
She’s coming down the stairs, her hair wet, an amused smile on her face. Aunt? “Ohhhh,” I breathe, clicking, wondering why the fuck no one thought to tell me. I would have been more prepared. Less obviously shocked.
“I didn’t think she’d be visiting for a while, or I would have mentioned her.” Beau passes me, still amused, and joins her uncle. Aunt.
“I’m a drag queen, darling. Don’t be alarmed.” Zinnea rests her weight on a hip, her hand there too, her long talons a vivid shade of pink.
Beau’s barely keeping her laughter in check. I roll my eyes, looking back when I hear more footsteps behind me. James plods down, fastening the two buttons of his polo shirt. He too has an amused smile on his murderous face. I curl my lip at him. Dickhead. He definitely could have told me. Returning my attention back to Beau and her uncle . . . aunt, I smile. I know it’s dark. “Well, I’m a murderer, so no judgments from me.”