“No. No, I-I know where she is,” he panted, sliding down the wall until his ass landed on the cold marble tiles. “I know how you can finally get her. I know how you can end this thing once and for all.”
And thank God he’d managed to overhear that tidbit of conversation about the sailing trip to Ludington. If he hadn’t, he had no doubt he’d be a dead man.
Silence on the other end of the line had his stomach jumping up to lodge in his throat. Then, finally, “I’m listening.”
“She and one of those thick-necked bikers she hangs out with are sailing her boat to Ludington, Michigan. Tonight.” That last part was a guess. He hadn’t overheard exactly when she planned to make the trip, but he didn’t want to give Devon a reason not to believe him. “You can send a couple of your men to meet them at the dock there. Then…then…” The plan was formulating in his head at the same time he was laying it all out. “If your guys have a second boat, like a rental, or hell they could just hotwire a boat there at the marina that they could tow behind the sailboat until they were in the middle of the lake, then they could kill Eve and the biker, sink the sailboat, and motor back to shore.” And even though it was an on-the-spot plan, he figured it might just work. “No one need be the wiser. Ships go down on the Great Lakes all the time. I mean all the time, so it’d be just like we discussed. An accident. It’ll be—”
“Shut up,” Devon interrupted, his tone as sharp as a rapier. “I’ve heard enough.”
He swallowed, licking his lips, looking with longing toward the decanter of scotch sitting by his favorite armchair. This fiasco was turning him into a goddamned drunk. And he hated drunks. His mother had been a drunk. And just look where that’d gotten her. And him, come to think of it…
“I agree with your plan,” Devon said, and his heart leapt with hope.
“Good. That’s good,” he wheezed. “And you’ll see, Devon. This will still work out.”
“You’re going to ensure it works out,” Devon said, his tone just this side of malicious. “Because you’re going to be the one to do it.”
“What? But—”
“This scheme started out as yours, and you’re going to be the one to finish it.”
“But, the police…They may want to question me some more, and—”
“I’ll supply you with a believable alibi,” Devon said. “Chartreuse just loves to spin tales of her Johns. She’ll come up with a great one for you.”
Chartreuse…One of Devon’s many gap-toothed whores. She was always meant to be his alibi if he came to need one. But he hadn’t really thought he’d ever need one until now. Because the police were likely to demand another interview, and when they couldn’t find him, he’d have to rely on Chartreuse to tell them he’d been with her the entire time. And considering the woman was about as skanky and rundown as the Southside project where she peddled her trade, it would absolutely ruin his reputation to be known as one of her clients.
Then again, if Devon killed him, he wouldn’t have a reputation to ruin…
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I can’t very well take my own car. I can’t have traffic cameras catching me exiting the city.”
“I’ll supply you with a vehicle whose plates aren’t in the system.” Devon said and gave him the address where he could pick up the car. “It’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
He consulted the Rolex on his wrist; he had just enough time for one drink. So, he’d make it a big one.
“And one more thing,” Devon said.
“Yeah?”
“This is your last chance. You fuck this up, and you’re dead.”
Lake Michigan
3:10 a.m.
Well, if this wasn’t the sexiest, dirtiest, craziest thing she’d ever done—screwing Billy’s brains out—she didn’t know what was. And you know what? It felt divine. It was divinity. Like consecrated by the Gods or something…
Oh, sweet Lord in heaven…
She arched her back, biting the pillow beneath her cheek as Billy pumped into her from behind. His strokes were smooth and deep, his thighs rock hard against the backs of hers, his fingers doing something magical at the top of her sex where he had an arm wrapped around her.
The temperature inside the little cabin had jumped at least fifteen degrees since they’d started…well…going at each other she supposed was the best way to describe it. And, boy, oh boy, they should’ve done this years ago. She’d been an idiot to hold off. Because Billy was…well, he was Billy. Sexier, manlier, more physically inventive and more naturally talented than anybody she’d ever known. Yes, they should’ve done this…Oh, God.
She could no longer think. Because he was so deep inside her, pressing into her, now working her with short, hard thrusts, his middle and index fingers slipping over the bud of nerves at the top of her sex, and she was pushed up higher, pulled closer to the edge of the abyss. Then he lengthened his thrusts, stilled his fingers, and she moaned in frustration, shoving her butt back at him.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he growled, reaching up to feather his fingers across her nipple. “I’ll get you there.”
Oh, would he ever. She had no doubt of that. He’d get her there and then he’d get her there again. And again. And again. And…
“Billy,” she moaned his name when he leaned forward, his sweaty chest against her back, his hot breath whispering across her cheek as he murmured deliciously naughty things in her ear.
Billy…She glanced over her shoulder at the image of their bodies pressed together. His skin was deeply tanned compared to her fair complexion, the hairs on his legs and arms black and crinkly. And he looked big. Compared to her, he was big. His muscles huge and bulging, the side of his wonderfully perfect butt hollowing slightly each time he thrust into her. And with each long, lazy stroke she sank deeper into the infinite gulf of sensation. Her fingers tightened on the pillow, her teeth sinking into the weave of the fabric.
And suddenly, her release was rushing toward her. Her breath hitched in her throat as she waited for it, shamelessly reveling in it when it rushed over her in a huge swell of pulsing, aching climax.
“Ah, hell,” Billy cursed when her body clamped down on his. And it was obviously too much for him. He grabbed her hips, pumping into her violently until his own orgasm hit him, until he throbbed inside her. And then, together, they rode out the storm…
“You were supposed to wait,” he breathed in her ear once they’d both stopped blowing like a couple of winded racehorses.
“Did you,” she rasped, licking her lips and smiling at the weight of him along her back, pressing her into the mattress, “or did you not hear me when I said I’d stopped doing what other people tell me to do.”
“Mmm.” He rolled off her, and she muttered her disapproval as she heard the little snap as he pulled off the condom. She wasn’t looking, but she assumed he tossed it toward the small metal trashcan to join its compatriot.
“Come here,” he said, snaking an arm around her waist, forcing her to roll onto her side and face him. She threw a thigh over his legs, an arm over his chest, and buried her nose against his neck, just under his ear, inhaling deeply.
“Are you…sniffing me?” he asked, his chest rumbling beneath her arm and against her breast.
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured. “Because you smell good.”
“I do?” he chuckled. “What do I smell like?”