Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
She had a gold wedding ring on her finger, and her husband was the sexiest, most dangerous looking man on the island.
Luna glanced down at the white dress she wore. Unless she was on a stage, she would never have worn the dress. Way too revealing and sensual and…uh, not her. But this was not an ordinary day. Did she even have ordinary days—or nights—any longer? The garment fit her like a second skin, the top had a daring V that plunged between her breasts, and the dress stopped mid-thigh. Maybe mid-thigh. That was certainly being generous. The dress had been paired with a pair of elegant, strappy sandals.
Her hair had been cut. Her decision because she’d wanted it to match the image on her new driver’s license. Gone were the long locks she’d sported before. Now her hair skimmed just above her shoulders in a sleek bob. She wore long, dangling earrings that danced when she moved her head. And bright red lipstick to match the shoes.
I feel like a different person. Because, for all intents and purposes, she was.
She was Ronan’s wife.
He hadn’t been excited when she told him that she wanted to pause their trek to cut her hair. He’d muttered about her hair being gorgeous. But he’d gotten to change things up in order to match his new ID—he’d shaved off his beard—so she’d wanted to blend better, too.
And when she’d come out with the new cut…
Even sexier. That had been his response. It had warmed every inch of her.
Though she could certainly have said the same words to him. Before they’d left the safe house, he’d ditched his beard. And she had loved the beard. But without it…
Even sexier. His square jaw was on full display. Not just sexy, but gorgeous. He even had a little dent in his chin. Not a full cleft, but a dent she had the oddest urge to lick.
Whatever. She’d like to lick all of him.
“What are you thinking?”
His low question had her hand flying out to grab the champagne flute in front of her. “Just thinking I’d like to lick all of you.” Yep, she said the words. Because this was her second glass of champagne, and she clearly could not control her tongue.
He blinked. Then glanced around.
They’d made it down to the Keys. Or, specifically, to the couple’s retreat on a private island. They’d been taken to the island via boat. Dropped off on the wooden dock, and she’d tried hard not to look as dazzled as she felt. The place was paradise. Pure paradise with palm trees and thatched-roof-covered bungalows. They were currently having their dinner on the beach. A million stars glittered overhead, and a dozen tables had been set up beneath hanging lights. Not that they needed those lights, not with all the stars to light the sky.
A band played about fifteen feet away. Flames twisted in firepits strategically placed around the perimeter. Couples danced in the sand, swaying as they listened to the music. The champagne kept flowing.
Upon arrival, she’d been told there were no televisions in the bungalows. No phones were to be used in the guest rooms or any public areas. There was Wi-Fi on the island, but she’d been firmly informed that any ringing phones were frowned upon by management and the other guests.
Not like she planned to have a ringing phone. She was just too delighted by the escape.
I’m trapped in a nightmare one day. Living in paradise the next. She almost wanted to pinch herself because this could not be real.
Twelve acres of paradise. No distractions. No fears. And the sexiest husband in the world.
His lips kicked into a half smile. “Just how much champagne have you had?”
“Two glasses.” She put her empty glass down. “And that means I have to stop.”
“A lightweight, are you?”
“You have no idea.” Much more, and she’d probably be snoozing on the table. Embarrassing.
“Oh, I think I’m about to find out.” He wore a white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows. Dark khakis. His usual watch that perched over the snake tattoo on his wrist. Though parts of the snake—particularly its twisting tail—peeked out. His hair was tousled by the wind, and the faintest hint of teasing seemed to fill his eyes. “Be right back, princess.”
Where was he going? Her head tilted as she followed his stride. Okay, fine, her head tilted as she followed his ass. It was a great ass. It was also an ass that had just gone toward the stage.
She straightened in her chair. She’d ditched her sandals beneath the table and let her feet sink into the sand. How could she not? She was on a beach, for goodness’ sake. If your toes weren’t in the sand, you weren’t doing the beach right.
Ronan was whispering to the singer. Luna was pretty sure she just caught the flash of cash being handed off. Ronan turned back around, caught her watching him, and he winked.
A stupid, sexy wink.
I’m in such trouble. I think I’m falling for my fake husband. It was all too easy to imagine that the pretense was real. If, ah, she forgot about the dead body they’d left in Louisiana and the fact that a hit had been put on her life.
Ronan headed back to their table. Stopped right in front of her. He extended his hand.
Oh. She smiled. “You got him to play a song for us, didn’t you?” Another item on her adventure list. Dancing under the stars and moonlight. How perfect. And crazy thoughtful.
He pulled her into his arms. Eased her into the group of couples swaying slowly. His sandalwood scent filled her nose. His warmth surrounded her. Sure, she’d left her shoes behind at the table. Why not? He seemed extra big and bold and he held her so carefully as they danced. One big hand was on the base of her spine. The other cradled her hand.
“Princess…” His head lowered. “The dance is fun, don’t get me wrong. But I didn’t pay for it.” His breath teased her ear.
Then he bit her ear. A light, sensual bite.
A shiver skated down her body even as yearning spread through her. “I-I saw you hand off money.”
They swayed together. For such a big guy, Ronan was very light on his feet. “Um.”
“Why did you give him money?”
The music slowed. Stopped.
The singer tapped the microphone. “Gonna take a little break,” he announced. “But don’t worry. We’ve had a special request, and someone will be taking my spot.”
Oh, no. No. She pulled away from Ronan, just enough to look over at the small stage. Toward the singer who was now pointing toward her.
As in, pointing dead at her. Just in case she was wrong, Luna glanced over her shoulder. There was only a palm tree behind her.
“Your adventure list is waiting,” Ronan murmured. “Let’s see if you’re all talk…or if you’re gonna start that living you keep telling me about.”
The singer raised his brows and kept pointing at her. Now all the other couples were looking at her, too.
“It’s our anniversary,” Ronan announced into the slightly uncomfortable silence that followed her body freezing. “Five years tonight. Surprise, sweetheart. I thought you’d love to sing your favorite song for everyone.” Then he nudged her toward the stage. “You got this.” Soft.
Luna stumbled forward. She didn’t know if she should be mortified. Mad. Or…
Thrilled?
He did this for me.
Though she did not know if she did, indeed, have this.
The singer took her hand and helped her onto the stage. “Give Cameron over there your song.” He bobbed his head toward the man seated at the piano. “He can play anything.” A soft laugh. “Don’t worry about this crowd. Most have been drinking all night. You could sound like a chipmunk, and they’d still keep swaying.”
Well, that was somewhat reassuring. Not like she had time for any vocal warmups, so she’d be going into this thing raw. Which probably meant the first few notes would be rough. Hopefully, not too rough. She wanted Ronan to think she was good. Was it so wrong that she wanted to impress her fake husband?
She crept toward Cameron. Mumbled her request. Then went back and stood in front of the microphone. It was one of those tall microphones attached to a black pole. The pole was positioned way too high for her, so she pulled the microphone off the pole and held it in her hand. Then she scooted the pole to the side.
The couples were watching her. But she didn’t really care about them. She cared about the tall, dark, and dangerously handsome man with his hands crossed over his chest and a faint smile on his face. He had one eyebrow raised, and his head cocked to the right as he waited for her to begin.
The piano player’s fingers rolled over the keys. The music drifted into the air.
When you sing or when you act, you can become someone else. Nothing else matters. All the pain leaves. Pain and fear disappear.
Her breath whispered out. Her heart drummed too fast.
And she began to sing. Soulful. Bluesy, because that had always been her favorite style. Her voice was a little husky at first, then stronger. Sweeping around the notes and purring with sensuality as her confidence grew.
Ronan’s eyes widened. He lost his faint smile. His lips parted. His mouth might have dropped open. She never looked away from him. She couldn’t. This song was about a lover she didn’t want to leave. A man she couldn’t lose. It was for him.
Because she was falling in love with her hitman.
He could not move.
Couples danced around him. Waiters bustled past as they kept the champagne flowing.
Ronan remained locked to the spot.
Holy hell, the woman can sing.
He had gone up to the stage on instinct. Some foolish part of him had just wanted to do something to make her happy. Especially after that piss-poor conversation with Gray. He hadn’t told her about that talk. Didn’t plan to do so.
Use her as bait? Throw her into the lion’s den and let him rip her apart? Dumbass plan.
She’d been sitting at the table, smiling her enchanting smile, and he’d thought…why the hell not? Why not cross another item off her list?
It had been easy enough to slip the performer on stage some cash. The fellow had been heading off for a break, anyway. And the crowd was small. Couples—lovers—totally involved with each other. Not like he had to worry about someone snapping pics or recording Luna.
The island was supposed to be phone free.
So he’d paid the cash. Gotten her on stage.
Only now he was paying the price. Because Luna wasn’t just good. She was fantastic. Her voice tempted and taunted and promised so many things as she sang with unbelievable control. Lights were behind her, shining around her, and her body was on perfect display. He’d known the dress would be trouble the minute he saw it.
The haircut suited her. The haircut before had suited her, too, though. This one made her jaw and cheekbones look a bit sharper. Gave her more of that enchanting, witchy vibe that he found far too hot.
Luna had been made to perform. He could see that. She didn’t tremble or hesitate. She poured emotion into her voice, and she utterly captivated him. It was all he could do not to stalk toward that stage, pull her into his arms, and carry her off.
She’s singing for me. Her deep, emerald eyes were on him, and he could not look away from her.
She held the final note. Held it so long and then let go with a soft sigh.
The couples had stopped dancing. They erupted into applause for her.
He didn’t clap. He was too damn spellbound.
Her smile flashed. The nervous, shy one. The one that showed she still had so much innocence about her, despite his best efforts to acquaint her with sin. She did a quick, ducking bow. Waved to the crowd.
People were asking for more, but she shook her head and turned for the piano player. Luna bent to speak quickly with him. As she moved to step away from the pianist, his hand flew out and curled around her wrist.
Ronan immediately took a step forward.
Only to find some blond asshole in his path. “Holy shit,” the man proclaimed. “Is she with you? Because that woman can sing. ”
“My wife.” The words might have come out guttural and possessive. Fair enough, he was guttural and possessive. Particularly when it came to Luna. The blond was also in his way. The man was a few inches shorter than Ronan, so he had no trouble seeing beyond the guy and noting that the pianist still had his hand curled around Luna’s wrist.
You need to let her go, now.
“Dude. I want her.”
Ronan blinked. His gaze left the pianist and focused on the fool right in front of him. “You want to say that again?” Clearly, so that when I beat the hell out of you, you understand why you had the pain coming to you.
The blond gulped. His muddy brown eyes went very, very large. “I’m married!” He threw up his hand. “Married. Happy. Super happy. Deliriously so.” He pointed to the right where a curvy brunette with warm brown skin and laughing, dark eyes sipped champagne. She wiggled her fingers back at him. “Monique and I own a club in Key West and one in Miami. We’re holding auditions for new talent soon, and your wife would be perfect.”
Too bad his wife was running for her life.
“When I said I wanted her…I meant at my clubs. She’d be a hit. That sultry voice, that control…damn. She probably already has deals somewhere, huh? She’s really incredible.”
She was also tugging against the hold of the pianist. Why was the man still touching her? “Excuse me,” Ronan said, stiffly polite. “I have to go and break someone’s fingers.”
The blond craned his head to see where Ronan was looking. Then, “Oh, shit.” He yanked his hand into his pocket. Pulled out a card and shoved it at Ronan. “Just—ah, keep this, would you? In case she wants to talk.”
Performing in a busy club wasn’t currently an option for Luna. She could be spotted by the wrong person. Especially in a place like Miami. Too many connections there led back to Atlanta. Word could spread to Marcus that she was still alive…
Exactly what Gray wanted to happen.
Tricky bastard.
Jaw locking, Ronan took the card. He shoved it into his pocket and shouldered past the blond.
“Great meeting you!” The blond called after him, “Name’s Harris, by the way. And your wife is?—”
He didn’t hear the rest of the words. He was in front of the stage. A leap had him on the stage. A second later, he was behind Luna. “It’s going to be hard to play the piano with broken fingers.” Just a helpful observation for the pianist. Ronan could be kind that way. Giving out pro tips left and right.
The pianist blinked at him. Dark hair. Tanned skin. Golden eyes. Hair carefully tousled. White shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. Young, maybe early twenties. “My fingers aren’t broken.”
Ah. Clearly someone who was not too fast on the uptake. “They will be if you touch my wife without permission again.”
The man shot up from the piano and staggered back. His hands immediately flew in front of him. “It’s not like that!” He wore thick, leather cuffs around each of his wrists. He looked at his upraised hands and hurriedly placed them behind his back. As if that would protect him. “I was just asking her where she’d performed before. No way is this her first time on a stage.”
And Luna hadn’t been able to respond because she couldn’t tell him that she was from Atlanta and that she was a middle school drama teacher on the run.
“I was just impressed, that’s all. She’s a hundred times better than the guy I’ve been working with. Look, we get drunk people up here singing all the time.”
“I’m not drunk,” Luna hotly denied. “Or maybe I am. A little.” She curled her hand around Ronan’s arm. “Let’s go to our room.”
“No, she’s not drunk.” The pianist nodded. “She’s talented, that’s what she is. We could work together. People are always looking for singers around here. I can’t sing for shit, but I can play like nobody’s business.”
“Only if your fingers aren’t broken.” That pro tip again.
The guy backed up a step. “I don’t want broken fingers.”
“Then keep your hands to yourself.”
Luna’s grip tightened on Ronan. “What are you doing?”
His head turned. He stared into her eyes. Kept seeing her as she’d been on stage. Seductive. Passionate. His left hand lifted and skated down her cheek. “Protecting what’s mine.”
“Your husband is a dick,” the pianist muttered. “Controlling asshole. Don’t want to tell you your business but… run. Run, lady. Far and fast.”
Ronan’s head turned back toward the pianist. “My wife knows I would never hurt her. But I would destroy anyone who so much as bruised her skin.” He reached for the delicate wrist that the man had been clutching.
“Oh, God.” Ronan could hear the pianist gulp. “Just was trying to get contact info. That’s all I was doing while we talked. I was not hitting on your lady. I could use a good singer. We could partner up?—”
“Stop scaring him,” Luna ordered. “I’m not bruised.” She tugged her hand from Ronan. He let her go. She frowned at the shaking pianist. “Told you, I’m not interested. But thanks for playing the piano for me.” Her brow furrowed as she focused on Ronan. “Now, are we going to our room or are we standing on stage all night?”
Shit, were they still on stage? They were. Without another word, he climbed from the stage, then turned to catch her waist so that he could lift her back down onto the sand.
A few people clapped for her again as they passed through the crowd. She blushed a bit more and offered her thanks. Luna scooped up her sandals, and they hurried away from the tables and the lights. They snaked through the palm trees and ambled along the faint path that led to their bungalow. As soon as they were away from the crowd, though, Luna stopped. “I forgot that you now get to play the role of jealous husband. Nice job, by the way. Completely believable. For a moment there, I thought you actually were jealous. Didn’t realize you had such strong acting talent.”
It hadn’t been a role. He had been jealous. A very new emotion for him. “I don’t share.”
“Okay.” She swung the sandals in her hand and rocked forward onto the balls of her feet. A large palm tree waited right behind her. “Again, great acting. Because you totally had me believing that you’re super jealous and ready to rip apart any man who touched me.”
“I am.” Flat. Truthful. Completely disconcerting.
She sank back onto her heels. “Excuse me?” A laugh. Nervous. “It’s just us. You don’t have to pretend any longer.”
“Screw pretending.” He crowded in close to her.
She backed against the tree.
“I am jealous.” Something he would have to deal with. He didn’t like the feeling, Ronan knew that for certain. It twisted his guts and made him want to drive his fist into the faces of any men who were lusting after her. “You were fantastic on that stage.”
Shadows surrounded her, but he caught the flash of her smile. “You think so?” Her smile dimmed as she rushed to add, “You don’t have to lie. I was so nervous that my knees were knocking together. I just kept looking at you, though, because I knew you weren’t going to laugh at me.”
Laugh at her? What?
“You were my strong spot. I used strong spots starting in high school. Whenever I got nervous on stage, I’d find one person in the audience I could count on. It used to be my mom. Tonight, it was you.” She threw her arms around him. Squeezed. “That was nerve-racking and incredible at the same time. Thank you.” The sandals banged into his back.
His hands curled around her waist. She’s thanking me, and I just nearly broke a man’s hands. “I don’t think you’re understanding things properly.” She shouldn’t thank him for being a jealous asshole.
She pulled back. “You did something really nice for me.” A brief pause. “I think your heart is way bigger than you realize.”
Something was way bigger than she realized, and growing more so by the second. Not his heart. Nope. Not that.
“The doting husband and then the jealous lover. Two big roles in one night. I think I could learn some things from you when it comes to acting.” Her hands—and the sandals she still grasped—fell back to her sides. She started to slip around him.
He raised his hands and caged her against the palm tree. “We have a problem.”
“Oh, no. What is it?” Alarm flashed in her voice.
“I am a jealous lover. I didn’t like his hand on you. You were trying to get away from him. He didn’t let you go. He pulls that shit again, and he’ll be dealing with me.”
No response. Right. Because he sounded like a crazy person. Ronan cleared his throat. “You were gorgeous on the stage. The light was behind you. Your body was fucking perfection. And your voice—sin and sunshine. How the hell can that even be a combination?”
But wasn’t that what she was? Sin and sunshine for him? The best of both worlds with her witchy, sexy looks and the innocence that just wouldn’t dim? “What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?” Ronan wondered.
He heard a faint thud. One, then another. The sandals had hit the sand.
One of her soft hands rose to press to his cheek. “Protect me.”
Yes, that was exactly what he was doing.
“And, I think fucking me sounds like a really good option, too.”
She almost got fucked then and there. Right against the palm tree. It would be so easy to lift her up. To shove Luna’s short dress out of his way and take her there. But…
No protection. No condom.
If he fucked her and got her pregnant, he wouldn’t be able to let Luna go. She’d have to stay with him. Forever.
Why was the thought so dangerously tempting?
Before he could speak, she was kissing him. A soft kiss on the mouth. One that just teased when he wanted deep and hard. He wanted her mouth fully open and crushed beneath his as his tongue plundered past her lips. But Luna was gentle. Careful. And then her mouth skimmed down to the scar that curved under his lower lip and swept partially down his chin.
She hadn’t asked about the scar. He knew it was more visible without the beard. But ditching the beard—temporarily—had been necessary. An easy enough change that made a big difference for any jerks who might be looking for him.
Gray, you’d better not leak our location. If you do anything to jeopardize her safety, hell will come calling for you. Friend or no friend.
She’d angled her head and was kissing his neck now. Soft. Light kisses. The delicate lick of her tongue teased him.
So easy to fuck her here. Just lift her up. Rip the panties away. Drive home.
No, dammit, no.
At least, not out in the open. They had a perfectly good bungalow waiting. One with a big-ass bed. One stocked with more champagne. One waiting with rose petals and candlelight because maybe he’d ordered the romance package just for her. Not because of their ruse. Because of her.
Shit. What was up with him?
“Our room,” he growled. Either they got there in the next thirty seconds, or he’d fuck her wherever they happened to be. Those little licks and the sweet bite she’d just given him had pushed Ronan too far.
“Race you there?” she asked.
What? It took a moment too long for her words to register in his lust-fogged head. By then, Luna had pulled away. She laughed. Scooped up her shoes and ran down the path. As he watched her flee, a smile tugged at his lips. One full of anticipation. A bit of savage need.
She wanted to be chased? She’d clearly come to the right man. He took off after her. He followed the sweet sound of her laughter. Followed the flash of her legs under the starlight. She darted up the steps and into their bungalow. Didn’t even stop to unlock the door. Just threw it right open and went inside.
Didn’t stop to unlock the door.
Except, the door should have been locked. It one hundred percent should have been locked. After the staff had set up the romance package, they knew to lock the door. Standard damn procedure.
She was inside now. He couldn’t see her. A burst of adrenaline and speed fueled him, a burst that might have also been marked by sudden, stark fear as he hurtled onto the small porch that led to the bungalow. “ Luna!”
He burst inside. Then froze when he saw the man holding Luna.
You didn’t leave loose ends in this world.
Fuck me. Ronan Walker knows that I sent Kurt to kill him. The attempt had failed. Marcus huddled over his computer. He was about to send payment for Luna’s kill. Maybe that payment would get Ronan off his back.
I didn’t get my proof that she was dead. No finger. No photos. The only photo I got was Kurt’s. Bloody, dead Kurt.
Kurt…who led right back to Marcus.
Ronan knows that I wanted to kill him. He knows I sent Kurt to end his life. Even if Marcus hit send on the payment for Luna’s hit, would that really stop Ronan from getting his revenge?
Marcus knew the man’s reputation. Ronan always got the job done. One word was routinely used to describe him. Relentless. A former military hero turned hired gun, no one escaped from Ronan.
He won’t let me escape, either. If I pay him, he’ll still come for me. I’ll be dead, and he’ll just be richer.
The only way out? To stop Ronan. Permanently. To kill the killer.
So maybe, instead of paying for Luna’s murder, he could use that cash for another purpose. Surely there would be people out there who would jump at the chance to claim credit for taking out Ronan the Relentless?
And with a million-dollar payday waiting, why not see who could get the job done? What did he have to lose? Marcus knew his life was already on the line.
Determination had his shoulders squaring. He wasn’t ready to die.
He knew just how to reach out to the right—and wrong—people on the Dark Web. Time to chum the waters.
And put a hit on the hitman.