Irresistibly Dangerous : A Marriage of Convenience Romance (Irresistibly Yours Book 5), page 31
Of that, I’m positive.
Either way, I have to do something before either man gets to each other.
Determination swarms through my blood like a pack of killer bees all banding together in a blood-thirsty tribe. My adrenaline has found a new purpose, and instead of making me jittery and panicked, it’s making me sharp and purposeful.
I pull into Lenox’s driveway, all the way to the two-car detached garage in the back, all the while scanning for my guy without seeing him. He hides well, though that shouldn’t shock me. He always has.
Clicking the button for the garage door, I slow my breathing as I pull in and shut off the car.
“Now what?” I ask Ezra, afraid to act without instruction.
“Now get out and stay beside me.”
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I tell him, my voice smooth even as I gracefully pull the earbud, from my ear, essentially ending my call with Lenox. I set it down on my seat where Ezra can’t see since it’s nothing but darkness in the car right now.
“Then you better follow my instructions.”
“But how do I know you won’t hurt me? Say I go away with you, what assurance do I have that you won’t kill me the way you killed my father?”
“I’d never hurt you, Georgia,” he growls adamantly, fiercely. “I love you.”
“Okay then. I’ll do what you say. If you promise me that.” I bat my eyelashes like a sweet little thing to him in the rearview, not even sure if he can see the gesture, but he can hear it in my voice.
Unbuckling my seat belt, I open the door with a soft click. I don’t know where Lenox is, and right now, with me ending the call, I’ve turned us blind. Still, I don’t want Lenox to come charging, and if he doesn’t know what’s going on, it might make him hold back for a few extra seconds.
The moment I shut the door, Ezra’s hand is on my forearm. The other hand with the gun is raised but not aimed at me, and I take that lapse in judgment and run with it. I twist in front of him and kick at his left hand. The spikes lining the edge of my boots stab into his skin, and never in my life have I been more grateful for the weird design genius of these boots that are lined in spikes. Ezra howls in pain, releasing me and clutching his now-bleeding wrist, and with that, the gun immediately drops from his hand, clanking on the cement floor of the garage.
In my next motion, I grab him by the back of the head and slam his face downward just as I raise my knee until the two connect. I both hear and feel the crunch of his nose breaking, but before I can continue, Lenox is there, dragging him back by his hair and walking him out of the garage.
“What are you doing?!” Lenox snaps, fury lacing his every feature. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“He was going to kill you! No two ways about it,” I yell, miffed because I just disarmed a man and I get no credit for it. “Men do not get to always play the hero. Sometimes, women are better at it.”
Annoyed, I go for the gun, only Ezra isn’t having that. Whatever he’s on, he’s not feeling any pain as he jabs his elbow back at Lenox, hitting him straight in the gut and ripping his head away from Lenox’s grasp, a collection of hair going along with it in the process.
He does a Superman dive at me, knocking me down onto my back on the driveway and stealing the air from my lungs. He rolls me once, all the while struggling to take the gun from my hands. My arm flies, knocking him in the side of the head with the gun just as Lenox picks him up like a rag doll and body slams him straight onto the driveway.
Ezra oomphs and gasps out a loud cough before he starts thrashing and yelling a thousand obscenities as he tries to squirm free, but to no avail. Lenox is a lot bigger and stronger and has Ezra’s arms pinned by the press of his knees as he sits on his chest with his full weight.
“Cut the shit or I’ll have her pistol whip you again, asshole. If you think I can fuck you up, you haven’t met my wife yet.”
I snicker.
“It’s not funny,” Lenox barks at me, clearly still angry I attacked first, but his lips are twitching now too. “Stop laughing. I’m seriously fucking mad at you, Georgia Moore.”
“I’m not laughing, Lenox Monroe.” Except I am. I start to cackle like a hyena. Not my best look, but I don’t even care right now. Why that’s funny in this situation, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the adrenaline rush making me high, but I can’t stop it.
“Dammit, Georgia!” Ezra yells. “Get him off me.”
“Right. Of course. I’ll be sure to do that, Ezra. You just lie there for a minute and wait for me to act.” I roll my eyes at him as I flip the safety on the gun and walk to the edge of the garage and set it down because I hear sirens, and the last thing I want is to be holding a gun when the police show up.
“I’m bleeding! Look what you did to my nose and wrist.”
“I know.” I glance down and hold out my foot, twisting it this way and that. “How cool are these boots? Be thankful I didn’t kick you in the nuts with them. Or ram this heel that is also no joke up your ass.”
He bucks and jerks and starts yelling at Lenox. “Let me go, you fucking asshole. I’ll sue you. I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.”
“I believe you just tried to kidnap and blackmail that out of us,” I deadpan.
The moment Ezra catches the sirens, he starts to lose it. He’s spouting a thousand threats and promises, and Lenox just stares down at him as if he’s trash and doesn’t care. He presses in deeper, making Ezra bark and snarl like a wild beast, but it’s futile.
The police show up, literally a dozen of them swarming with guns drawn, and we’re raising our hands—except for Ezra since his are pinned—and then it all begins. Lenox stands up, and the police handcuff Ezra. The gun is confiscated, and I explain how I had it in my hands.
Ezra is whisked off in an ambulance with some scary-looking dudes in black, and Lenox and I are just sort of here, standing around, waiting for them to decide what they want to do with us next.
“Do you think it’s done?” I ask him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my head in his chest. He smells good. He smells like home.
His lips press into the top of my head as he holds me tight. “I think some of this is about to begin, but I do believe the threat of danger is behind us.”
I press my chin into his sternum and peer up at him through my lashes. “I love you.”
He stares down into my eyes, his expression serious. “I was going crazy. I couldn’t handle him being there with you and not being able to get to you or stop him.” He cups my jaw. “I can’t lose you, Georgie. Not now. Not ever. It’s more than just this life for us. I’ll need you always.”
He bends down and kisses me, his lips melding fully to mine in a fierce possession I’ll never grow tired of. I’ll always need him too.
“Mr. and Mrs. Moore?” A police officer calls our attention, and reluctantly we break apart, but not before I catch Lenox’s cocky smirk at the officer calling me Mrs. Moore. “If you’re ready, we’d like to take you in now.”
Lenox and I are brought down to the Cambridge police station and then separated.
I’m placed in a five-by-four room with a table and two chairs on either side, just like how they do it in Law & Order. I’m waiting to be interrogated. I’m waiting for them to press me for details I don’t know and have them play good-cop-bad-cop with me.
Except, unfortunately, none of that happens. A female detective with a kind smile and warm honey eyes comes in and takes my statement. She asks me questions in a gentle, understanding tone and records everything.
When that’s done, she asks me to kindly wait a bit longer, and I’ll be able to leave.
“Where is Ezra?”
“He was brought to the hospital to have his wrist cleaned up and stitched, and he’ll be arrested by the FBI, who is currently with him.
Wow. I sag in relief. They can’t hurt me. They can’t hurt my people.
After that, she leaves, and it feels like hours that I’m stuck here alone when the door finally opens and Asher—freaking Asher!—walks in.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Springing you from this joint. Cal is with Lenox, and Zax and Grey are speaking with the detectives handling everything.”
I raise an eyebrow. “They just let you in?”
He grins smugly. “What? Don’t look so shocked. I own this town, woman. We all do.” He pounds his chest like a caveman, and I huff.
“You killed my fantasy,” I tell him as I stand and fold my arms. “I was hoping they were going to change their minds and send someone else in for the hard press, and I’d give them the strong woman front and watch them fold like a crepe.”
“Next time, babe. Next time. Take it from a man who has been arrested a time or two. It’s never as cute, cuddly, or cool as it looks on TV. You’ll always need a Lenox to make it disappear. Now come on.”
“How is this legal?”
“Welcome to Boston.”
Epilogue
“Why are you so quiet?” I ask Lenox on a half-yawn, my head tilted back against the seat, my large, black sunglasses over my closed eyes. I’m flipping exhausted. We both are. It was a long goddamn flight from LA, and we made the dumb decision to take it by redeye, and now we’re driving back to Lenox’s place in Maine.
Well, I guess it’s my place too now.
“I’m always quiet.”
I roll my head in his direction, even if my eyes are closed. Yes, Lenox is always quiet. But there is Lenox quiet, and then there is quiet, even for Lenox. He’s the latter. His flat tone isn’t fooling me. But truthfully, I’m too tired to press him. I just want to get home and sleep until next week.
It’s been a whirlwind few weeks.
The moment we stepped out of the police precinct after our friends came and sprang us, the press ate us alive. Zax—always the forward thinker—was ready with a no fucking around security detail, and Lenox and I were whisked back to Zax’s, where we spent the night in the luxury and security of his penthouse. Since then, it’s been one thing after another.
Thanksgiving happened, and we didn’t allow the events of the previous evening to overshadow our joy. It wasn’t difficult. Not with our people, our family, by our side. The following day, we had our wedding—our real wedding. Only this time, I had no tears. I was all smiles and laughs and pure joy.
It was the wedding I had always wanted. My dream wedding in my dream dress. The only thing that would have made it better was if my parents had been there. I wish I could talk to my dad. I wish I could have let him know all that I know about what was going on with Alfie and Ezra. I also wish he knew my mom never wanted to cheat on him, because when I spoke to her on the phone, she burst into tears.
Alfie was a monster.
The things he did to her, the things he said to her, were nothing short of abusive and I can’t imagine all she endured with that. But enough of that.
After the wedding, Lenox scooped me up—literally—and had Ashley drive us across town to a swanky hotel, where we spent the following few nights locked away from the world. No press. No outside noise.
Just us.
And a lot of room service.
In short, it was a perfect honeymoon escape that I never wanted to end. It was certainly far more favorable than flying out to LA and dealing with the nightmare that was waiting for me there.
I spent five solid days dealing with the board. We made press statements and started running positive PR campaigns. We did blast interviews, searching for a CEO and COO who could lead us forward and bring us into a positive light. The press was camped outside my LA townhouse. It was the worst sort of déjà vu.
I went and visited Alfie, who had been in solitary after he was caught attempting to bribe some guards to help him escape. I told him all about Ezra. About how his son had tried to play him with my father’s will. How we have audio of him confessing everything, including Alfie’s misdeeds, and that the FBI seems to have quite the cybercrimes case against him.
I also made it clear that I was going to make sure that neither of them would ever take a free breath again. And when he asked me how I had managed to get the upper hand on him, I simply smirked and walked out.
The FBI has my statements, as well as the audio from Ezra’s attempted kidnapping of me. The federal prosecutor for the case has already informed me I’ll likely have to testify, which is fine. I’ll do whatever I have to do with this.
Thankfully there is nothing connecting Lenox to any of this. No one will ever know he’s the one who brought Alfie and Ezra down. He’s simply my hot, muscled, tattooing husband.
Speaking of…
“I’ve been thinking about the tattoo I want,” I murmur sleepily, even though the urge to smile is overwhelming.
“Oh?” is his only reply, though there is no masking the surprised curiosity in his voice.
“I was thinking about getting a rose on my ring finger. We can be twinsies. Though obviously, I’d want someone skilled doing mine, unlike the guy who did yours.”
He makes a noise at my barb, that’s something close to a mocking chuckle. “A rose? Like mine?”
“Like yours. Only maybe black? You are a rather dark fellow, after all. Oh, but maybe with some gold and blue accents.”
I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You know, if you tattoo a rose like that on you, we’re forever.”
“I assumed that was part of the deal when I said till death do us part.”
“I’m just saying, a contract can be broken. Tattoos are permanent.”
I make a sardonic noise. “They can do all kinds of brilliant things with lasers now, so don’t get too cocky there, hero. But it warms my heart to know you’re already thinking about how breakable our wedding vows are.”
“Your rose isn’t going anywhere. As I said, we’re forever and permanent.” He clears his throat and then tacks on, almost apologetically, “The fingers hurt.”
I balk at that, sitting up and finally opening my eyes so I can glare at my husband. “Are you saying I’m not woman enough to handle it? I birthed a baby in a blizzard, fought—and beat—a man with a gun, and I’m married to you.” I poke his shoulder. “I think something like a little finger tattoo is child’s play after all that.”
His lips bounce, but he turns to give me a brief, taunting look. “Very bold words there, Mrs. Moore.”
“I’m aware, Mr. Monroe.”
“You’re planning on using numbing cream, aren’t you?”
My smile finally slips. “One hundred percent.”
He reaches over and takes my hand. “Can we do it now?”
I think on that for a moment, because while I am badass and all tough chic who can take on the world in my heels and red lipstick, the thought of a fucking needle piercing my skin a thousand times scares the ever-loving shit out of me. And I am woman enough to admit that to myself. But I made it through the nose piercing without even a whimper, and that bitch hurt. Only this time, he won’t be able to hold my hand if he’s the one inking it.
What the fuck. It’ll be cool.
“Do I need to call in a prescription or do you carry such creams in your shop?”
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers knuckle by knuckle, holding at my ring finger. “We’ll stop and get you some first.”
“Then I’m in. Let’s tat me up. Maybe after I’ll have you tattoo ‘kiss this’, one word on each ass cheek.”
“Except we both know I will, so it’s not exactly the fuck you, you hope it will be.”
Probably true. I do like it when Lenox kisses my ass. And does other things to it. “Fine. I’ll start with the rose, and we’ll go from there.”
He continues to drive us into Maine, bringing us closer to Lavender Lake. I must eventually doze off because suddenly the BMW SUV that freaking Ezra planted his slimy ass in the back of comes to a stop. Evidently, once December hits, Lenox leaves the Shelby in his heated garage in Cambridge for the winter. Boo.
“We’re here,” he whispers, leaning over and kissing me awake. Raising my sunglasses up to the top of my head, I thread my fingers into his hair and hold him close, kissing him soundly.
“Do I have to move? It’s warm in the car and so very cold out there.”
He smiles against my lips. “You wanted a tattoo. We have to get you magic cream first.”
All my bravado crumbles like potato chips. “We could go home first. I could sleep, and you could sleep since I know you didn’t get a lot on the plane and you must be so tired, and you could ink me in my dreams.”
He licks a trail up my neck and places an open-mouth kiss on my jaw that makes me shudder. Damn him. “Oh, Georgie, you’re braver than that.”
Am I though? Am I really?
I give him a skeptical glare. “How much pain are we talking about?”
He grins like the Cheshire Cat, his freaking blue eyes sparkling like sexy, rare gems. “I’ll make it hurt so good.”
“You can’t give me an orgasm while you’re inking me. My hand will need all your expert focus, and I’m assuming staying still is of the utmost importance, so that eliminates me riding you while you do it.”
He nips my bottom lip. “I’ll let you sit on my face after. And then ride me if that’s what you want.”
“You better,” I grumble, shoving him back and climbing out of the car, only to immediately huddle into my winter coat.
Freaking Maine in December.
He parked on the street, two storefronts down from the shop, all the way at the end of the strip. I spin on him. “Why didn’t you park in the back?”
He takes my hand and walks me onto the sidewalk, so I don’t get hit by an oncoming car. “They’re doing some construction back there,” he tells me, but there is a glint in his eyes that I can’t quite place. A glint that grows as he walks us toward the vacant building on the end, pulls out a random key, and inserts it into a lock.
