Accidental Shield

“Here’s the scoop—it’s a luxury yacht with all the amenities,” he says. “Four decks, one hundred and eighty feet, six state rooms, two with balconies. Shit cost him forty million two years ago.”

I’m not surprised Cash knows all that about the mothership. He’s a bloodhound for details. He probably had the ship’s schematics on hand long before tonight.

If I wasn’t still trying like hell to forget our botched rescue, I’d have known it, too. I told myself forgetting was the best way to get over Bali.

Cash, he never tried to get over it, not for a day since we returned. He was dead set on getting even. That poor lady died in his arms.

He’d tried harder than all of us to save her.

The rest of us just had weapons to fight for her. But Cash tried to save her medically, watched her bleed out all over him.

For him, that was worse than a total failure where we lost several good men.

That’s also why I’ve carried my burden. I wanted to relieve some of his, but that hadn’t happened. Whether I’d shouldered the moral weight of her death or not, he still has his own guilt to carry, this boulder of pain bigger than the load the gods dumped on Atlas. I couldn’t change that for him.

Not then.

Now, I can.

After tonight, none of us are bearing more burdens because Val is coming out of this alive.

Joel Cornaro will never see another sunrise.

19

Black Pearl Muse (Valerie)

“Interesting. My crew spoke highly of your beauty, Ms. Gerard, but they never mentioned you had such a devious little head on your shoulders. Maybe it’s you I should’ve been doing business with from the very beginning after Stanley’s untimely departure.” Joel Cornaro eyes me from head to toe, a slithering gaze.

My insides quiver at the glare in his eyes. The wry sneer on his face. The absolute darkness exuding from his person. The rattle of those thick gold chains around his neck every time he walks.

Ray and I sit on a white leather couch inside a luxury yacht vastly bigger than ours. It’s newer, which means it’ll be faster, too.

Flint won’t be able to find us once this ship heads out on the open sea.

No one’s coming for me this time.

“I thought I’d seen it all, dear Valerie. Then you did the impossible. You surprised me. I found out who your boyfriend is.” Cornaro smiles like a particularly ugly shark. “The infamous Flint Calum.”

My insides frost at the way he snarl’s Flint’s name, almost like he knows him intimately.

I don’t understand. How?

Cornaro continues pacing in front of us in these slow, languid laps. Like he has all the time in the world to keep up this torment.

“He ruined a very important demonstration of mine, once upon a time, and lived to tell the tale,” he says. “I should’ve known I hadn’t seen the last of a man who’d come halfway around the world, chasing after a marked woman.”

Oh, God. The dead woman. The Bali kidnapping. That has to be what he’s talking about.

Throwing an ugly gaze at Ray, Cornaro pulls out a lighter that’s just as gold as his necklaces and takes a long draw off his cigar, making the tip glow red. “All I was after was a little fishing company to help my wares reach their lovely buyers. Seems I’ve hit the jackpot purely by chance.”

He steps closer.

I flinch back, hating that I do, wishing I could spit right in his face.

“I should be in Vegas. You’d make a ravishing Lady Luck,” he says, his wretched eyes crawling all over me. “Although…I have more money than anyone in Vegas. First world problems, I know. Gambling with money grows passé with more interesting collateral.”

Ray, who can barely sit up, tightens his hold on my hand. “She doesn’t have anything to do with King Heron. I told you that, asshole. Leave her alone.”

“Ah, but she does have something to do with Mr. Calum, doesn’t she?” Cornaro’s slick smile fades as he steps closer. “And you never told me.”

“He didn’t know,” I say.

Cornaro doesn’t look my way, still glaring at Ray. Then his hand arcs up, pressing the red-orange end of his cigar against my brother’s forehead.

Ray doesn’t scream, but I do.

I lunge, grabbing at his arm, pulling as hard as I can. “Stop it! Stop it, you freak!”

He’s stronger than he looks, shoving me back in the cushions. Cornaro pulls the cigar away from Ray’s head with a low chuckle, and then sticks the cigar back in his mouth before leaning down to blow a thick smoke contrail in my face.

I want to gag, I want to run, I want to…

I desperately want to see someone put a cigar out on this man’s head.

He’s the devil himself. The raw hatred inside me grows as I stare at him, never looking away. He’s a natural bully, and I won’t give him what he wants. I won’t let him intimidate me.