“Did you shoot down our plane?” he asked Mustache Man, taking a step toward the body, determined to grab the gun that was lying on the ground beside the dead man’s splayed hand. The dude had fallen sideways but had rolled face-first into the sand. Which was a blessing since it meant his lifeless eyes and the blood seeping from his body were both concealed.
“Y-yes.” Mustache Man swallowed again. This time, the journey of his Adam’s apple made aclickingsound in his throat.
“Why?” Doc took another step toward the dropped weapon.
The sound of crunching footsteps, accompanied by a flurry of profanity, stopped Mustache Man from answering. From around the stand of palm trees, Romeo and a third man appeared. Romeo had the guy’s hands wrenched up high and tight behind his back as he frog-marched him closer to the group gathered around the body.
The new arrival was as wet as Mustache Man, his long auburn hair dripping water onto his skinny shoulders. Blood ran from his nose over his chin. His left eye was cherry red, even in the starlight, and it was obvious he was going to have one hell of a shiner come the dawn. There was a murderous twist to his lips as he continued to snarl obscenities over his shoulder.
Romeo ignored him as he asked Doc, “Have you asked how many they have with them?”
Doc nodded. “This one”—he hitched his chin toward Mustache Man—“says there’s only three.”
“This one told me the same thing,” Romeo said. Then he yelled over his shoulder, “Mia! I think it’s safe to come out!”
From somewhere farther down the island, Mia’s soft, husky voice sounded. “On my way!”
Romeo stepped slightly to the side, and that’s when three things became glaringly clear. The first was that ol’ Auburn Hair hadn’t managed to land a single punch. Romeo’s face was as handsome and unmarred as ever. The second was that Auburn Hair had come to shore equipped with a big-ass blade, which Romeo held in one hand. And the third was that Romeo was as naked as the day he was born.
Cami, who was still plastered to Doc’s back, choked. Then she whispered, “Whoever said clothes make the man was dead wrong.”
Doc had the sudden urge to shift his aim from Mustache Man’s genitals to Romeo’s.
Chapter 22
8:42 PM...
Mia darted out from behind the palm tree she’d been hiding behind and raced toward the beach to grab her discarded clothes. She dressed at the speed of light and then snagged Romeo’s jockey shorts and jeans before jogging toward the glow of the fire in the distance.
Adrenaline pumped through her system, making her vision go pinpoint.
No. It’s not the adrenaline making my eyesight wonky, she realized.I haven’t drawn a full breath since we heard the gunshot.
After she’d retrievedIn Darkness and Dreamsfrom her purse, she’d read the sex scene aloud to Romeo. Only, it hadn’t turned out to be a sex scene. At least not in the traditional horizontal hula sense. Instead, P.J. Warren had written that Ursula Lobo had seduced the obscenely sexy Lazarus Luxido by giving him a slow, intensely erotic blow job.
After Mia finished reading, she’d snapped the book closed and turned to Romeo with what she’d hoped was a seductive grin.“Let’s see if that’s as hot in real life as it is on the page,”she’d told him.
For the record, it had beenhotter.
If she lived to be a hundred years old, she would always remember the way Romeo had arched beneath her, his hands tangled in her hair, her name a harsh whisper torn from the back of his throat as he exploded into her mouth.
“God bless P.J. Warren,”he’d said once he stopped breathing like he’d been stuck under water for too long.“And god bless Mia Ennis,”he’d added before flipping her onto her back.
He’d kissed her until the flames of passion had once more become a conflagration, and then he’d nibbled his way across her jaw, back to her ear, and down to her neck. By the time he’d gotten to her collarbone, she’d been begging him to kiss her nipples. And his hot lips had just closed over one greedy peak when she’d told him,“P.J. Warren didn’t write about this.”
“Sure she did,”he’d said, briefly blowing across her nipple and watching it furl tight.“In book three.”
Mia had groaned, remembering the sex scene in book three where the alpha werewolf spent an hour going down on his fated mate, making her climax so many times that she passed out from the pleasure.
She had been all set to let Romeo give the scene his best shot when the unmistakableboomof gunfire ripped through the stillness of the night, and he’d torn himself out of her arms so quickly, she’d been left holding nothing but the empty airspace his big, warm body had occupied.
“Wha—”she’d started to ask, pushing up on her elbows. He’d cut her off by hissing,“Stay here! Stay down!”And then he’d taken off through the trees and darted down the beach, his long, strong legs making fast work of the distance despite his bare feet sinking into the sand.
When a shadow disengaged from the tree line, making a mad dash for the water, Romeo had immediately changed directions, cutting the mystery man off and tackling him into the surf. It’d been too dark for Mia to make out much, but she’d seen the glint of moonlight as it reflected off the long blade the intruder wielded.
Her heart had immediately jumped into her throat. But she shouldn’t have worried. Romeo, with moves that reminded her of something out of a kung fu movie, easily disarmed the man and then proceeded to beat on him for a bit before marching him up the beach toward the glow of the fire.
But even after she’d lost sight of the men when they disappeared into the trees, she hadn’t moved. Romeo had told her stay down and stay put. And that’s exactly what she’d done because she wasn’t an idiot, or one of those ridiculous damsels in distress who disregarded the advice of someone trained in dealing with danger because she thought her meager skill set might be of some use when, in fact, she just created a distraction.
