Page 48 of The Witness

“Huh.” I considered the change in venue from the PNR’s carefully chosen location to the boat. It would be like coming full circle to bring him down on the Jabberwocky where I’d failed Gabriela Cantoral. It seemed like karma. “I know the boat pretty well. I can help with the layout. Where is it docked?”

“Here in the marina. What has us worried is if he wants to leave port and how public the docks here at the hotel are. The PNR will not be in control of the situation. It’s much more risky to taunt him into—” Michael ran a hand over his face uncomfortable even saying the words. I took pity and did it for him.

“Trying to kill me.” I was proud of how calm the words sounded. I instantly understood how much added danger there was by meeting on the boat—in Sandoval’s domain.

“Yeah. The PNR can’t arrest him for a threat. You and I will be the only ones on the boat not on Sandoval’s payroll. It’s a big risk.”

“Will the microphones and surveillance stuff that the PNR offered still work?”

“Yes. The Cubans may have gasoline shortages and 1950s cars, but their spy craft is cutting edge tech, so at least we have that going for us. And Acosta promised he’d bring extra men so they can overwhelm Sandoval’s goons when it’s time.”

Michael wasn’t trying to sell me on the adjusted plan. He’d laid out the details without a hint of optimism. It was that time between when we taunted Sandoval into action and the arrival of the PNR agents that had Michael and me worried. At the distillery, we would have been in charge of the playing field. On the Jabberwocky… not so much.

“And what’s the alternative? If I don’t get on that boat tomorrow.”

He let go of me and walked to the minibar. He pulled out a beer for himself and popped it open on the edge of the art déco desk.

After a long pull off the bottle, he looked at me with an indecipherable expression. “If we don’t show, I’ll have burned up any currency I had with Sandoval. We will be back at square one and Sandoval will know you are in Cuba. It’s grim. We’d need to run.”

“Run where?” I sat down on the couch with a thump.

“Far. We’d need to get you a new identity. And I’d have to help you set up a new life somewhere. Maybe Asia.” He stood looking down at me, every line of his face contorted in sympathy. I hated it.

“Asia. No. I’m not running. What’s the value of being alive if I have to give up my dreams?” I shook my head as I spoke, the fire of determination burning bright. No fucking way. I promised Hailey.

“But you’d be alive?”

“Would I?” I raised one eyebrow and gave him a sad, twisted smile.

My question hung in the air. He searched my face, looking for a hole in my determination, a weakness he could use to change my mind. He wanted to protect me; I wanted that too. Only I wanted him to do it while we slayed the dragon, not while we ran away.

“Shit.” He chunked his beer down on the table and dragged me up from the couch. “I can’t believe you are going to do this.”

I couldn’t tell if he wanted to try to shake some sense into me or kiss me.

“You’ll keep me safe. I know it.”

His groan was half surrender and half plea.

I sealed my mouth over his, stopping him from saying more. And stopping myself from entertaining the doubts filling thedark corners of my mind. Our lips crashed together. He opened, sucking my tongue into his mouth. His hands seemed to be everywhere, sliding under my robe. Holding my ass. Trailing up my back.

What I needed more than a hot shower or a cold beer after coming face to face with Sandoval was him fucking me until I forgot. Nothing like an orgasm to bolster your failing resolve.

Later, we’d hash out the details for tomorrow. Go over plans and contingencies.

He lifted me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around him, and the fabric of his suit rubbed against my bare skin. Our lips stayed locked together as he walked the few strides into the dimly lit bedroom. The kiss went from hard and demanding to teasing.

I’d learned that Michael liked it slow as much as he liked it fast. The man was an unpredictable and skilled lover. Last night and most of this morning he’d been on a mission to find my every erogenous zone and take each one for a test drive. It was a spectacular ride.

The slow slide down his chest awakened my flesh. My nipples tingled as they rubbed over the starched cotton of his shirt. My core clenched, abraded by the gray wool of his suit. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt to keep my balance when my feet finally touched the ground.

“Turn around, Siren.” He nipped my earlobe as he spun me to face the bed, stripping off my robe as he maneuvered me into place.

I bent at the waist, elbows locked, hands buried in the bedding. He ran a single finger down my back, from the nape of my neck to the small of my back. Goosebumps bloomed in the wake of his touch. He massaged the fullness of my ass and rumbled his appreciation.

He shifted, pulling my hips back until my ass settled against him. The cold metal of his belt buckle grazed one cheek, and I sucked in a shocked breath. He chuckled in my ear.

“Cold?” he asked.