Seduction and Surrender (Reckless #2) Page 25

  She whimpered, groaned, pushed.

  “There you go, almost there. I can feel your clit’s frantic pulse, can you feel my fingers on you?” An almost inaudible gasping sound. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Now we’re just waiting for you to come, then afterward, I’m going to spread your legs wide, hold you down, and shove my big, stiff cock into your greedy pussy and fuck you hard and fast, caveman, wild, out of control, filling you to the brim with cum over and over again, not stopping. Even when you beg me to,” he said in a low, rough rasp. “ I. Will. Not. Stop.”

  The hot, brilliant delirium surged, peaked, burst, and Nicole’s climax broke in a wild, mindless scream that echoed in Rafe’s ear, drummed through his senses, struck his long-abstinent libido like a mallet. Grabbing his rock-hard dick, Rafe jerked himself off in a heart-stopping ten seconds flat. Fuuuuck. Like a teenager with his first taste of pussy.

  But a moment later, he dragged in a breath and got himself under control—force of habit. “How do you feel?” he murmured. “Everything good?”

  “I love you to pieces good, all melty and soft.” Nicole’s voice was a wisp of sound. “Hurry, come see me for real.”

  “Love you too, every which way,” he gently replied. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m working on it.”

  “Good.” Her voice drifted off. “I’m going back to sleep. You wore me out.”

  He smiled. “Sleep well, pussycat.”

  Chapter 31

  By the time Rafe said good-bye to Nicole it was almost eight a.m. in San Francisco. With the Oxy in his system he was lazy but not in the mood to sleep, so he Goggled high-end Realtors in San Francisco, scrolled through websites, and selected a Realtor from the area where Nicole lived. Then he called the cell phone listed on the website.

  “Chris Fellows here.” The man’s voice was bright and cheery. “You’re an early riser. How are you this morning?”

  There was no point in explaining that it wasn’t morning in his current time zone. “I’m fine, thank you,” Rafe said, not as brightly, but politely. “I’m looking for a house in Cliffside. I’d like a property within walking distance of an address I’ll give you. Price isn’t an issue. I’ll pay cash. Any architectural style will do except for a severely minimalist design. The house has to be available for immediate occupancy. That’s about it.”

  “Oceanfront?” the Realtor asked smoothly, cha-ching ringing in his ears; he’d move the owners out himself for a client who wasn’t going to quibble over price.

  “If possible. No, actually yes, I’d like oceanfront. Although I’m in a hurry, so if oceanfront’s a problem, I’ll settle for something inland,” Rafe said, changing his mind again. It wasn’t as though he didn’t own oceanfront properties.

  “How soon are you looking to move in?”

  “Four, five days if all goes well. My schedule is uncertain.”

  “Give me your e-mail address and I’ll send you videos of available properties. Your phone number too, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’m available at this phone number. Rafe Contini.” Rafe gave the Realtor his business cell phone number and Nicole’s parents’ address.

  “I’ll get on it right away. Expect a response within the hour.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you taking my call. I know it’s early there. But I’m hoping to be in San Francisco soon and I prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

  “Cliffside’s a nice area,” the Realtor said mildly, as if clients bought houses on the spur of the moment every day so they could sleep in their own beds. “You’ll enjoy living there.”

  “That’s what I hear. Ciao.”

  Chris was left with a dead line. Not that he cared. Cash. In that area? He was going to wake up his wife and give her the good news. With this commission she could do the kitchen remodel and add a chunk to the kids’ college fund. “Hey, Di, wake up! You won’t believe this!” he shouted, walking back into the bedroom from the hallway where he’d gone to take the call so he wouldn’t wake her. “Christmas came early this year and Santa’s name is Rafe Contini!”

  Rafe stayed awake until the videos arrived, then scrolled through a dozen properties inside and out, selected an oceanfront house two blocks west of Nicole’s parent’s home, and called Chris Fellows. “My banker will handle the paperwork,” Rafe said and gave the Realtor a name and number in Geneva. “He’ll wire the money to you as soon as everything’s signed. I also have a few small commissions. Hire someone to take care of them and send the invoice to Geneva. Here’s what I need.” Rafe gave instructions for a bed to be purchased and set up in one of the bedrooms. To the list of necessary linens, towels, soap, and shampoo, he added a number of grocery items for the refrigerator, among them several bottles of champagne—California sparkling wine was fine, he agreed. Also a bottle of Macallan 32. “I appreciate your patience,” Rafe said when his list was complete. “Thank you.”

  “More than happy to be of assistance,” the Realtor said with genuine delight. He’d let his wife pick out the bed and linens. Contini had given him the name of a personal shopper in the city and mentioned he wanted something substantial—whatever that meant. Expensive, he figured.

  “Sundlin will be waiting for your paperwork,” Rafe said. “He’s promised to return it to you promptly. Thank you again. I’m delighted with the house.” Then he listened politely to Chris Fellows’s gratitude, assured him the pleasure was all his, and ended the call.

  With a major item crossed off his list, Rafe set his phone aside with a sigh of relief. He had a house in San Francisco, or rather he and Nicole had a house; he’d had both names put on the title. Nicole could deal with the rest of the furniture if she chose; if not, someone else would.

  Now that the purchase of the house itself, along with some basic household items, was in capable hands, Rafe took enough Oxy to push him over into some serious sleep. He hadn’t had a decent night’s rest since he couldn’t remember when.

  In the morning, after landing at Split, Davey choppered Ganz and his medical team to the island first, then made additional trips from the airport, ferrying the rest of the passengers who were remaining. Most of the security forces were returning home; only a small contingent stayed behind. In fact, the majority of the tech people had already left when Rafe and Carlos returned to the operations room.

  Rafe explained to the skeleton staff that there was a possibility some of Zou’s personal bodyguard might still be active. He double-checked the photos of the bodyguards who’d accompanied Zou to Thailand in the event he’d missed one when he scanned them on the plane. No, it was still two dead at the compound. He set the other two photos aside. “Make sure all our contacts have these pictures. Tell them we need airports and other transportation monitored as well as phone calls if they’re still using their phones, credit cards—they might need a car rental. We’ll do the same, but the more people looking the better.” Rafe scowled. “They could be anywhere. This is needle-in-a-haystack shit.”

  “Only for us,” Jorge said. “They have targets.”

  “Unfortunately,” Rafe said grimly. “So make sure you stay in contact with Dao. She’s looking for them too and she’s connected.” Rafe surveyed the array of cyber surveillance professionals and softly exhaled. “If you need more help, ask. If there’s some niche specialist you know who could assist, get them here. I want this over yesterday, okay?”

  Everyone nodded, but Rafe wished he still had Zander and Webster. They could both do the work of ten men. He said as much to Carlos as they walked back to the palazzo.

  “Call them, ask them to return,” Carlos said.

  “I fucked up their summer holiday enough already. Let’s see if we can manage. Jin worries me more than the other guy, who’s older and less likely to be a firebrand. Also, he wasn’t saved from the streets by Zou like Jin. That kind of bond—” Rafe blew out a breath.

  “Like you and your friends.”

  “We were saved in a different way, but yeah. It makes you close, tighter than hell. And
Jin could be driving, flying, grabbing sea transport. It’s going to be really hard to see him coming if he’s on some goddamn mission from God.”

  “We’re safe here. No one’s getting on the island.”

  “True.”

  “But you aren’t staying.”

  “No. I wouldn’t have even returned if it wasn’t for Ganz.” Rafe gave Carlos a flash of a smile. “I have a hot chick waiting for me in San Francisco and we have wedding plans to make. I just bought a house for her a few hours ago.”

  “You really are fucking serious.”

  Rafe looked surprised. “You doubt my sincerity?”

  “Not anymore,” Carlos said with a roll of his eyes. “A wedding, a house, you’ll be a daddy soon.”

  “No I won’t.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Nicole has managed to turn your life upside down. She might not be in complete agreement with you when it comes to babies.”

  “Jesus, Carlos. Stop. No one’s talking about babies.”

  “Fine.”

  Rafe scowled at him. “Goddamned right it’s fine.”

  “By the way,” Carlos said, moving to a more agreeable subject, “Gora just texted. Saxe reversed Zou’s wire transfer to the Dubai bank. The fifty mil’s back in your Geneva account.”

  “Great. Thank Saxe and give him a bonus.”

  “How much?”

  “Ten percent. Hell, I probably should give him more. He saved us a ton of money. Make it twenty percent. He deserves it.”

  Carlos laughed. “You bought yourself a friend for life.”

  Rafe gave Carlos a sideways glance. “Please. The man’s for sale to the highest bidder.”

  “Such a cynic.”

  “Yeah, I know. What a fucking shame the world isn’t all sweetness and light.”

  For the next five days everyone rallied around Ganz, keeping him company when he was awake; even when he slept, one of them stayed with him in case he woke up and needed company. Alexei had a large-bore IV in Ganz so the fluids he needed would run faster and also an arterial catheter in his other wrist near his thumb to monitor his heart rate and blood pressure. Ganz needed drugs to lower his heart rate as he came off cocaine, but the pressure couldn’t go too low or it would adversely affect the bleeding in his liver. So Alexei’s treatment was a fine balance between controlling the bleeding and managing Ganz’s withdrawal symptoms.

  Rafe and Nicole talked on the phone whenever they could, although Nicole was as busy with Isabelle as Rafe was with Ganz. Isabelle had to be driven to physical and occupational therapy every day, the therapist every other day, and she preferred Nicole’s company at home as well. No one thought it strange. The two girls had always been close. They watched TV and movies, read, talked about Isabelle’s slowly returning memories of the accident, and had friends over occasionally as Isabelle’s health improved. They also discussed the wedding, although Isabelle was pledged to secrecy until their parents were informed.

  Isabelle initially had asked if the engagement was for real and Nicole had given her an affirmative answer. But as Rafe delayed his departure and their separation persisted, Nicole’s doubts surfaced.

  “Rafe’s unpredictable schedule is another reason I’m not telling Mom and Dad about the wedding until he arrives. Just in case,” Nicole said, lounging in a chair in Isabelle’s room late one afternoon.

  Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Isabelle grinned. “In case he finds someone else in the meantime.”

  “Thanks, that’s really helpful,” Nicole muttered. But a moment later, she sighed. “It’s not just Rafe. Sometimes I wonder if I’m being stupid about this. I’ve only known him a few weeks. How serious can it be?”

  “You mean you’ve never given a damn about a guy before and you’re not so sure you know what you’re doing.”

  Nicole grimaced. “I wouldn’t say that exactly, but—”

  “You’ve never had a clue about love.” Isabelle put up her hand. “I can attest.”

  “Maybe no one does until it happens. Still”—she took a small breath—“when I’m in this limbo, I’m having doubts. What if I change my mind later? What if Rafe changes his mind? It’s all happened so fast. How do I know for sure that our forever is the real forever?”

  “You could ask Mom. She and Dad are still in love.”

  “But I’m not a bit like Mom,” Nicole murmured. “Not even close.”

  “You could ask Dominic. He likes to be boss all the time, same as you. And look what happened to him. He loves Kate like she’s his whole world. He might have some good advice.”

  “He already gave me his advice. He told me to dump Rafe.”

  Isabelle laughed. “Ordered you, you mean, and we know how that turned out. So, okay, we’ll just figure it out ourselves, weigh the pros and cons—come to a logical conclusion. To begin with, you think about Rafe twenty-four/seven, right? Second, you practically glow when he calls. And third, you’re all starry-eyed when you get off the phone. Not to mention, he’s rich, gorgeous, smart. Are there any cons?” Isabelle paused for a moment. “Voilà—done deal.”

  Nicole sniffed. “Don’t forget all the women.”

  “Hel-lo,” Isabelle countered. “You should talk. You’ve had a few boyfriends.”

  “Not like Rafe. You’d need a database to keep track of his playmates.”

  “Hey, people change. You did. You’re like a lost puppy when he doesn’t call and a space cadet when you’re thinking about him—which is all the fucking time. You almost drove us into a cop car the other day. And it was parked. So I’m asking you—has anyone else ever made you feel like you do about Rafe? Giddy, wildly delirious, dizzy with love?” Isabelle stared at her sister for a moment, then spread her arms wide. “I rest my case.”

  Nicole smiled. “It is a pretty nice feeling.”

  “Exactly,” Isabelle said, as though concluding oral arguments. “So who cares what you call it when he makes you feel that good. Call it love, chocolate cake, Hindu Kush. He’s your one and only gift from the gods. Don’t question it, embrace it.”

  Nicole grinned. “Embrace it? Are you going out with that massage therapist again?”

  “I will once I can see straight again. He’s sooo hot.” Isabelle grinned from ear to ear. “Did I say he was a massage therapist?”

  “Only about a thousand times. He is cute.”

  “Cute? I’m sorry, cute? He’s six foot five of super-toned flawless male. Bunnies are cute. Bax is magnificent.”

  Nicole lifted her brows. “Everywhere?”

  “Goddamned right everywhere. He has tattoo sleeves though”—Isabelle gazed at Nicole from under her lashes—“unlike your fiancé. Don’t look so surprised, the rumors are all over the Net. No pictures, but”—Isabelle gave her blond curls a little shake—“everyone knows Rafe’s got an inked dick.”

  Nicole laughed. “Okay, I’ll embrace love, fulfillment, the beauty of the universe, the meaning of life, the perfection of tantric sex—what else does Bax talk about?”

  Isabelle winked. “Sometimes he doesn’t talk at all. He just moves real, real slowly so every nerve in your body is just waiting for him to slide in that final—”

  “Okay, that’s enough. We have to change the subject or I’m going to need some me time with my vibrator.”

  Isabelle held up her hand. “Stow that thought. We’re going to watch that Netflix series, the one with the gladiators in the skimpy outfits.” She grabbed the remote. “That’ll be almost as much fun.”

  On day six after their return to the island, Alexei finally gave Rafe the news he’d been waiting for.

  “Ganz’s liver is on the mend. He hasn’t had any bleeding for two days and his vital signs are approaching normal. Lucky for him the peripheral areas of the liver aren’t as difficult to heal. And the transfusions helped. I’m going to take out his IV later today.”

  “Will he swallow his detox drugs?” Ganz had been getting Ativan through his IV.

  “This is where those therapists Basil knows come
in. They’ve been sitting around doing nothing; now they can start their sessions. And I’m here to remind Ganz that his body can’t take any more coke. So you can say your good-byes anytime. Ganz will be fine.”

  Rafe waited until Alexei had removed the IV lines and monitors before he carried in a new laptop. Ganz was sitting up in bed, thinner, paler, but on the road to recovery. “This is one of the first ones off the line,” Rafe said, setting the sleek aluminum piece of hardware on Ganz’s lap. “Have fun.”

  Ganz ran his fingers over the smooth metal, lifted it to gauge its featherlight weight, looked up, and smiled. “A new kind of fun?”

  “That’s what everyone’s hoping. Your old kind of fun was killing you—and not slowly. We all want you to be happy, but maybe pick another way, okay?”

  Ganz arched a brow. “You’re not gonna say I did it, you can too?”

  Rafe shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way. You have to find your own way out of hell.” Rafe grinned. “Speaking of ways out, Alexei says you’re healthy enough for company. Not us, we don’t count. Good company. Madeline’s on her way here. Davey picked her up a couple hours ago. Ha! Now there’s a fucking smile.”

  “Thanks, Rafe.” Ganz’s smile faded and his voice gentled. “Thanks for everything. For Madeline now, for always being there when I got out of hand, for stepping in and saving me from Zou.”