Javier (Alpha Heroes #12)

Chapter Twenty-one

Missy

I couldn’t believe the things that had come out of Javier’s mouth. When had he turned into a total caveman? Had he lost his wits? Did he think he was my keeper?

Hours after our confrontation, even as I danced to the beat of slow grunge beneath the light of the moon, I was still pissed at him. I knew we were both uneasy, frustrated by the lack of news from Astor House, and on edge, knowing our attackers were likely looking for us, but tonight, he’d crossed a line. I’d crossed a line, too, one that had trapped and defined me for way too long. There was no turning back.

“ Ma chérie. ” Pierre leaned down to my ear to make himself heard over the loud music, casing my swaying hips in his hands. “You move like a siren.”

“ A siren ?” I threw my head back and laughed. “So, I smell like fish and have a tail?”

“And what a tail it is.” Standing behind me, Gerard kissed my ear and motioned his hands over my behind. “ C’est magnifique .”

I blushed and shouted over the music. “You guys are good for my self-esteem.”

“We aim to please, mon amour ,” Gerard cooed. “But our holidays are coming to a close. This is our last night together.”

Last chance. My nerves spiked and my pulse picked up. I hid my anxiety behind a crooked smile. Could I really do this?

The answer had to be yes. Javier had initiated me in one aspect of sex. I intended to learn the rest. The mere thought of him had my resolve wavering. He kept intruding in my head, spoiling what should be my fun. Damn his good looks and his sex appeal. And his mouth. And his tongue. And his fingers.

Missy Astor, you’re not getting hung up on him ever again .

Tonight, I was taking matters into my own hands.

I stole a glance over my shoulder. He sat at the bar, wearing his reflective shades. Who did that at night? Ridiculous, not to mention annoying.

He’d been at the bar all night, surrounded by the stunner with the great boobs and all his female fans. They conveniently came out of the woodwork like termites whenever he made an appearance. Women gravitated to him in hordes. Honestly, it was irritating.

He rocked his ripped jeans and a black T-shirt that showcased his pecs and biceps to perfection. Holding a tumbler that hadn’t touched his lips all night, he made for a striking figure. I had to give it to him. It was his best bodyguard look yet.

He would’ve been the ideal candidate for what I had in mind. Capable, sexy, sweet—well, not sweet, not anymore. He’d stopped being sweet to me the moment we stepped over the Costa Rican border. It was a shame he wasn’t into me. Never mind I’d shocked him with my transformation. His image of me was juvenile.

His bad attitude and awful reaction had precipitated a milestone that had to happen sooner rather than later. He’d never been the man of my dreams, but it turns out he wasn’t the man from my dreams, either. The man from my dreams had been a patient, devoted lover, not a freaking prick.

I caught another glimpse of him through the crowd. Even as I kept dancing, I sighed. Heck, even his feet were sexy, big, bold, and masculine, encased in the Birkenstocks, his toes as strong and well-formed as the rest of him.

You know what they say , Affie’s voice teased in the back of my mind. Big feet, big dicks .

Holy freaking cow . I fanned my burning face. The groping I’d done when I had the chance confirmed Affie’s observation. Maybe this was all for the best. I didn’t think I wanted one too terribly big tonight. A little one would probably do fine. Tiny may be good to start with. And one. One would be enough. Right?

Gnawing on my lips, I glanced at the two men dancing with me.

Which one?

Do I really want to do this?

“Love the dress on you,” Pierre’s warm breath gusted over my ear, drawing my attention away from my nemesis. “You look hot. You make me boil inside.”

“Me, too.” Gerard rubbed against my back. “I’m on fire, mon amour .”

The old Prissy Missy would’ve told these two to go find a hose to cool down. She would’ve encouraged them to jump in the pool, but from now on, rejections like those would be limited to gold diggers and cavemen.

Tonight, you’re the huntress , I reminded myself, fighting a bout of nerves that threatened to sink my adventure. To do this, I had to borrow Affie’s motto: Learn a little, live a lot .

I closed my eyes, lifted my arms, and swayed to the sexy beat. It flowed through me until my body was a wave swelling and ebbing in a crowded sea. I swung my hips in slow, rhythmic circles, flirting with my companions, but the fire within didn’t ignite. If only I was as attracted to them in the same way I was to Javier.

Stop the comparisons. You’re dilly-dallying. Choose.

I studied Pierre. I liked the way he synced his movements to mine, following my lead. Dragging my eyes to Gerard, I noticed the glitter in his eyes and the sheen brightening his skin. Light and shadows played with their features as the colorful disco lights shifted around us.

Pierre. It should be him.

No. Gerard is shorter and smaller. His feet are smaller, too.

Don’t be a scaredy cat.

Make up your mind.

Maybe Gerard?

I allowed Pierre to plant a brief smooch on my mouth. He smelled as if he’d bathed in cologne. I gave him a little playful shove. Gerard came around and also planted a peck on my lips. So far, they were both light kissers. Nothing like Javier. No heat, no meltdown, no fireworks on contact.

Argh. I wanted to slap myself silly. Comparing again?

I needed to forget Javier and get myself in the mood. The new me might not get another chance at exploring and experimenting for a while.

Opportunity, remember?

I had to make my choice now, even though I was as edgy as a cat on hot bricks. And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get myself to pick. So, I danced some more and kept the men waiting.

***

Javier

Sitting at the lakeside bar, watching Missy’s hypnotic dance, I felt like the biggest loser on the planet. I also was furious—with the douches for being such opportunistic jerks, with Missy, for committing to this path, with me, for not having the guts to dissuade her from this madness that was driving me batshit insane and was breaking something inside of me.

“Hey, handsome.” Rozina threw her arms around my shoulders. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” I said yet again.

“You’re in a sour mood.” She nuzzled against my ear. “A little later, maybe?”

With the woman draped over my side, I brought my tumbler to my lips, and forgot to drink. On the dance floor, Missy laughed. A hot rope of anger squeezed around the pit of my stomach. I hissed between my clenched teeth.

Rozina was talking to me, blabbering non-stop in her sexy, husky voice, about what, I didn’t care. Pierre and Gerard were deploying all of their assets. It was such a shame that their records were clean. I wished they were NWO. Run-of-the-mill terrorists would be fine, too. Assassins, gangsters, white-collar crooks, drug traffickers, hell, even petty criminals would do. Then I’d have a good reason to rip off their arms and toss their bodies into a volcanic fissure.

A ton of gel kept Gerard’s spiked hair in place. He looked like a damn sea urchin, a bright red one, given the heat and what had to be a few anticipatory Viagras. He was so goddamn sure luck would favor him tonight. Then there was Pierre. He wore designer labels from top to bottom and spent money as if he farted it out of his ass. Both guys didn’t miss a single chance to touch Missy. They clung to her like lice.

Could I blame them?

I ground my jaw until my teeth hurt. I almost shot out of my stool when Gerard cupped her ass. I wanted to strangle the rat-faced weasel. But Missy smiled. She fucking smiled. She’d been honest about what she wanted, and now, even if it killed me, I had to stick my ass to my seat and watch this shitshow with my guts knotted in agony while she had her fun.

Who would she choose? Pierre or Gerard? I studied the pair. I knew what they were after. A threesome.

Fuck .

The mental image of Missy laying naked with those two flashed in my mind. I scrubbed my forehead. The pressure inside my skull felt like a bomb about to explode. Those idiots didn’t know anything about Missy. They didn’t know about her family, her sisters, her prick of a father. They had no idea of how strong and yet how vulnerable she was. They would never know or appreciate how goddamn fortunate they’d be if Missy chose them.

When Missy chose them?

I strangled the tumbler in my hand.

They might not even know to be gentle with her. Shit . I was gonna pound them to dust if they hurt her in any way. I might just pound them into the dirt anyway, because they irritated the fuck out of me. All they wanted was a tight, juicy pussy and a pair of perky tits.

Isn’t that what you want, too?

My dick went so hard I saw red. I went to cool my ardor with a sip, but my whiskey tasted as hot and bitter as I felt. Pierre and Gerard didn’t give a shit about Missy’s needs, wants, dreams, and hopes. Whereas I did. I cared. I wanted only the best for her.

My nails grated on glass.

Just when I thought I my temper was gonna go supernova, my cell lit up. King’s alias popped up. My pulse ticked faster. Plunking the tumbler on the bar and leaving a puzzled Rozina behind, I got up. Keeping my eye on Missy, I ambled to a quiet, private corner by the restaurant’s kitchen entrance before I accepted the call.

“Where the fuck are you?” I demanded. “Where the hell is your cargo?”

“Can’t disclose my location,” King offered, chill as ever. “The cargo is secure for the moment, but we are Oscar Mike.”

King was on the move with the nuns in tow. He had to keep his location secret, which meant he had bogeys on his tail. “Why the fuck did you go MIA?”

“Can’t risk talking about that either.”

“Our friends are worried,” I snapped. “Hell, I was fucking worried.”

“I got it under control.” A cryptic answer from King that confirmed a chase in progress. “This is the first window I’ve had to make contact.”

“So, you haven’t checked in with our friends.”

“Negative.” He’d had no contact with Mina, Dagger, or anyone on the team. “Too risky.”

The only reason he’d contacted me now was to follow Tracker Team’s protocol. When the shit got hot, we had to provide proof of life to someone on the team. I guessed that, for King, this meant me. There was no good news coming from him, no new orders to mobilize.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“I’m good,” he said, lying through his teeth. “You’ve got your hands full.”

“Fuck.” Feeling stuck and frustrated, I almost kicked the nearby recycling bin. Instead, I tightened my grip on the phone. “Is your situation about a cold-blooded creature?”

“I can’t think of anyone else who’d be so interested in a pair of peace-loving women.”

Shit .

I paced, five steps one way, five steps the other. Given our route exiting Nicaragua, I wasn’t surprised Bekker had guessed the nuns’ destination, but he had balls showing up in Costa Rica, risking his ass when he knew the authorities had his face plastered all over.

“I don’t like it,” I said. “This all stinks of some sort of setup. You were supposed to be here.” My damn backup, I didn’t say.

“I also made a promise that I would take care of the cargo. Can’t move your way at this point. So, you’re it,” King added. “And you’re good enough to do the job.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I spat wryly. “I’d like to go on a long hike away from here, but I was told to stay put. I’m fucking tired of sitting on my ass all day. I could use some action right about now.”

A glance at Missy had me seeing in shades of crimson. I wanted to break out of my tight skin, and go hunting: Bekker, anybody, anything. I needed an outlet for my frustration. On the dance floor, Pierre planted a smooch on Missy’s lips and so did Gerard. She threw her head back and laughed, exposing her smooth, kissable throat. I wasn’t able to contain the roar that rattled in my throat.

“What’s up, bro?” Curiosity sharpened King’s voice. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t buy it,” he said. “Things not going your way?”

“I’m on ice,” I spat. “I don’t like to sit like a fucking duck.”

“I got five mikes to spare,” he said. “Is this about the honeymoon suite?”

Shit . “I’ve got nothing to say.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” King said. “Is it about your passenger?”

The ape was a human radar. He was also like a dog with a bone. When he fixed on something, he didn’t let go.

“Talk to me,” King said. “Is it?”

“Yes.” I shocked myself with the admission. “But it ain’t gonna happen.”

“Why not?” King asked.

“You know why,” I snapped. “You think I’m a screw up, but I’m a professional.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I’m a professional, and she’s my cruise passenger.”

“Cruise” was code for the mission and “passenger” was code for Missy. King and I knew better than to mention her name even over a secure line.

“Fair,” he accepted quietly. “Is she gonna be your passenger forever?”

“Wait. What?” I glanced at my cell, wondering if I’d heard him wrong before I returned the thing to my ear. “You’re the straightest arrow I know, well, except for a certain second with a baritone bark, of course. Are you encouraging me to break the rules and act unprofessionally?”

“Nope,” he returned promptly. “Not me.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

He hesitated before he spoke again. “Don’t you think this cruise feels different from others?”

“How so?”

“Bro…” He paused for a moment. “Who sent you out on this cruise?”

“The boss.”

“He assigned you the cruise, but who really persuaded you to take it?”

Goddess. It had been Thena who’d encouraged me to take the mission. “You know who.”

“See?” I could almost visualize him lifting a hand in the air. “That’s what I mean.”

“I’m not following,” I grumbled, but I was semi-following.

“The person who sent us in this vacation is wise, like her namesake, isn’t she?”

Athena Astor, named after the Greek goddess of wisdom. “Yeah, and?”

“She always has a good reason to do things,” he reminded me. “Don’t you agree?”

“One hundred percent.” Thena was more than a pretty face and a competent executive, a rare and extraordinary person.

“I heard she reads the stars,” King said. “Like her mother used to do.”

“What the fuck are you saying, man?”

“Hear me out,” he continued in his calm voice. “I’ve thought about this a lot. Why did she select you for this cruise?”

“I’ve asked myself that question a million times.” I let out a rush of hot air. “I have no fucking clue. You?”

“She knows your passenger quite well,” King said. “She’s also taken the time to befriend each of us. What if she knows something we don’t?”

I’d wondered about that before. I paused my pacing, and shoving one hand in my pocket, leaned against the wall. “Something like what?”

“I don’t know, but think about it,” King insisted. “If she thought you’d be bad for her passenger, would she have selected you for the job?”

“No.” The woman was as protective of her sister as she was of Dagger and Tracker Team.

“I agree,” King said. “She would’ve sent someone else. Like me for example. We both know I’m the shit.”

I started to protest.

“Just yanking your chain.” His grin came through in his voice. “My point is, she’s smart. She knows what she’s doing. She chose you. So, there you have it.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“You’re right,” King said, “but if you’re counting cards, then you know I have a good chance of not being totally wrong.”

“She sent me to find the passenger,” I countered. “Not to fuck up her life.”

“Why would you fuck up your passenger’s life?”

“I’m me.” I shrugged at the cell. “I hurt people for a living.”

“Wowzers.” I visualized King shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “That’s a fucked-up take of your occupation and mine. My definition is opposite of yours. As to that screwed up shit about hurting your passenger, you make her sound like she’s brainless.”

“What? No!” I was offended on her behalf. “She’s one of the smartest people I know.”

“Did you do stuff to make her dislike you?” King asked.

I’d been stellar at that, but I kept mum on the subject.

“Yeah, you did,” King concluded without my help. “That’s what you do when you wanna push people away. You act like an asshole. You destroy any chance for good stuff to happen.”

“You’re overlooking the obvious here.”

“Yeah, sure, tell me about that.”

“Our worlds don’t gel,” I said. “Not to mention that I’m a fucked-up asshole. Assholes and nice passengers don’t end up well.”

“Huh.” Coming from King, I hated the skeptical sound. “You just threw a bunch of stupid labels at me. Hard to accept your designations. You’re not an asshole, although you act like one at times.”

“Same difference.”

“You could choose to ramp down your assholic levels.”

“Right,” I spat. “Because I can snap my fingers, erase my past, and become a paragon of fucking virtue.”

“Dude, slow it down,” he said. “Who says you’ve gotta be a paragon of virtue?”

“Did you hear the part where she’s who she is?”

“Someone who chose to live in poverty for three fucking years.”

Point to King. I grunted something obscene.

“She’s nice,” I argued. “A good, kind person.”

“And what are you, chopped liver?”

“If you’re looking for a list of my vices, you ain’t got the time to hear it.”

“We’re all works in progress. Can you just work on being the person you wanna be?”

I looked at the moon hanging on the sky. “Where would I even begin?”

“Not where, when, and the answer is now.” King didn’t give me a break. “The now is the only thing we have. As to the nice person category, I doubt your passenger would love hearing herself so narrowly defined.”

On the dance floor, Missy proved King right, her sensual moves showing me that my definition of her was too narrow. I clamped down on my teeth and forced myself not to drag her off the dance floor like a caveman, but it was a close thing.

“I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Don’t hang up on me, dumbass,” he snapped. “Seems to me you have junk to unpack. What’s the problem?”

“She’s young,” I muttered for lack of a better answer.

“Seven, eight years?” King considered that. “It’s a decent range. She might be younger than you, but maturity levels count.”

“Are you calling me Peter Pan, too?” I lashed out with a snarl.

“I’m not, but apparently someone did.”

Shit . This conversation wasn’t helping anything.

“The boss would kill me if I—”

“That’s an affirm.” King didn’t argue the point. “So, question. Is she worth dying for?”

A million times yes, and yet, “It won’t work.”

“You keep saying that.” King didn’t bother to hide the exasperation in his voice. “I’m not saying you don’t have challenges to overcome, but isn’t that what you do for a living?”

“Yes, but—”

“You haven’t mentioned objection number one.”

I winced at the thought of Phoenix Astor. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“How can I not?” King paused. “Are you still blaming yourself for his checkout?”

King might as well have punched me in the nose. “No.”

Hell, yeah was the right answer. I could never forget. Didn’t want to. Wouldn’t allow it.

“Liar.” The line crackled with King’s exhale. “Your passenger is an adult. You have a choice, and so does she. Make yours and let her decide for herself.”

“I’m no good for her.”

“You’re gonna make me come all the way out there to kick your ass,” he returned with a huff. “Stop it with the self-flagellation. I know we’ve had our differences. You annoy the fuck out of me, especially when you wanna be all bad boy and shit.”

“Hey!”

“Time’s running out, so shut up and listen,” he snapped. “You’re one of the best I know. You’ve got the skills, instincts, and training. You’ve got the heart, too. Sure, irritating me is your superpower, but you’re also smart and fun to hang out with.”

I scoffed. “And here I thought you weren’t a fan.”

“I had misgivings when you came on,” he admitted. “You were in jail and I didn’t know if you were in the right state of mind to become a cruise director. Our last trip together showed me I can trust you. You’re solid. Not gonna deny you drank too much in the past. You’ve demolished one too many bars and you’ve come close to blows with none other than the boss’s second.” He meant Micah Bozeman, aka Granite. “That was a show of stupidity or madness, not sure which is what. But that shit’s in the past, bro. This is the present. You copy?”

On the dance floor, Pierre said something to Missy. She turned the color of fire. Pierre took out a keycard from his pocket. He offered it to Missy.

The faint sounds of dice rattling in their cup echoed in the back of my head.

She accepted the key. Fuck. My stomach dropped and splattered on the floor. The clatter of the dice grew louder. Pierre took Missy’s hand and led her through the crowd. Gerard followed, smiling like an idiotic bonobo who knew he was about to get lucky.

A cold panic froze my guts. “Gotta go.”

“Don’t be a dickhead,” King warned.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Get in touch with your emotions,” King said. “Identify what you feel before you act. Dial down the asshole and don’t tear the place apart.”

He knew me too well.

“No promises,” I said. “But I’ll try. I’m out.”

Mulling the unfamiliar notion of facing off with my terrifying emotions, I clicked off the call and moved. The rattle of the dice turned into a deafening commotion inside my head. There was only one way to stop the clatter, and, this time around, I wasn’t sure it would work.