26. Clementine
CHAPTER 26
Clementine
B y the time we limped back to the shore, the sun was rising over the horizon.
“I forgive you everything,” my dad said promptly, caressing the leather briefcase lovingly. “I take back all those times I called you a dirty snitch. You’re a peach of a son-in-law.”
“He’s not your son-in-law,” I protested weakly.
“Not yet,” Grayson agreed, one big arm wrapped around my waist, forcing me to draw warmth from his body. “But I plan to be soon.”
“I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it to the second wedding,” Dad said, hopping agilely into his own boat. “I may have an active warrant by then. But you can come visit me anytime you like in Bermuda or the Cayman Islands. Bring my grandkids. I want to spoil them.”
“You don’t have any grandkids!” I almost shrieked, feeling on the thin edge of hysteria after the night’s events.
“Not yet,” my objectionable father yelled back cheerfully. “You will.”
He started the engine. “Hard-a-port to the starboard side!”
“That makes no sense,” Grayson called. “Watch where you’re going!”
“Take care of my girl,” Dad ordered, ignoring Grayson’s advice. “Don’t let me catch you fucking random blondes this time, or I’ll use a few of my millions to hire a hit on you.”
“No sir,” Grayson said. “Clementine is it for me.”
“Bye then!” Dad called as he sped off.
I felt tears prickle at the corner of my eyes as I watched his tiny little boat skip over the early morning waves and we waited until it pulled up alongside a much bigger boat.
“Hopefully your uncle doesn’t throw him overboard,” Grayson said reflectively.
I turned to him, my hands feeling his shoulder anxiously, his blood smearing all over my fingers.
“We have to go to the hospital,” I cried desperately.
“Sweetheart, I have no desire to explain why I got a chunk of flesh taken out of my shoulder, or where your father and the $50 million dollars are. The bureau will figure out eventually that your father is gone, but give me a moment to think of a plausible cover story.”
“Oh my god,” I cried, fighting the tears from flowing down my face. “You’re quite the international criminal now, aren’t you?”
“I said I’d do anything to get you back,” Grayson said, pulling me toward him with his uninjured arm. “And I meant it.”
He bent to kiss me and the tears streamed down my face, salty in my mouth as I kissed him back.
“Let’s go back home now,” he said. “The performance is tomorrow and I need some rest to get into that Fairy Frogmother head space.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I said, sniffling and wiping away my tears of relief.
He stared at me. “Why not?”
“Grayson, you just got shot! Even if it’s not a worse injury, you don’t need to be leaping and singing on stage!”
But the big agent shook his head.
“Wrong, Clementine,” he said. “I promised you I would play the Fairy Frogmother and I am going to be the fucking Fairy Frogmother.”
“Oh, Grayson,” I said. “I made up that role! It wasn’t even in the original script. I just wanted to punish you for cheating on me.”
“Oh my darling, I know you did,” Grayson laughed, his hips pressing me up against the car. “Why would you need a Fairy Frogmother when you already have a High Queen of the Summer Fairy Court? A Frogmother would be quite redundant.”
I caught my breath as he bent to my throat, his lips falling on my chilled skin. “Why did you go along with it?” I gasped.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “Because I love you so much and I would do anything to make what I did up to you, to convince you to trust me again after I behaved like a colossal bastard. So I am going to sing and dance the living hell out of the Fairy Frogmother. Try to stop me.”