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Whatever game was being played and by who was putting her life in danger. I didn’t give a shit about mine, but from what I’d heard about how she was with her son, the kid rocked her entire world. I couldn’t let anything happen to her family. I wouldn’t give a shit if I spent the rest of my life behind bars. It would be well worth it if she had a better life.
Did that make me a fucking martyr? Hell, I wasn’t certain I knew the actual definition, nor did I give a fuck. I wasn’t that kind of man.
Waves because of the storm were being tossed against the rig, some large enough they breached the upper deck. I hated weather events when being forced to stay on a smaller rig. Hell, I’d almost died on one years before. I wasn’t prepared to go through that shit again.
A cold shiver pulsed down my spine, a bad feeling remaining in the pit of my stomach. The fucking empty rig had an ominous aura about it. I preferred a larger rig with more steel and men. Thank fucking God we wouldn’t be staying here but for another day.
I pushed my way into the small space, shaking my head. At least Axel Banning’s rig had a decent kitchen. This was nothing but a fucking airplane galley. I turned on the light, moving toward the cabinets, opening one after another. Nothing. Fuck.
Finally, my keen eye spotted a locked cabinet on the other side. I grinned like a Cheshire cat, instantly pulling out my Swiss Army knife I always carried with me. There wasn’t a lock made I couldn’t break into. Hudson might be a damn good hacker, getting better every day it seemed, but I was the man you called when you needed to break into a room or a safe.
I’d just gotten the lock picked and the door opened, admiring my prize of various liquor bottles when I overheard a sultry voice from behind me.
“Do you find breaking and entering attractive along with your list of other attributes?”
I slowly tilted my head over my shoulder, basking in the redhead’s beauty. She was soaked from the rain, her glorious long locks plastered to her face, but it was the wet tee shirt clinging to her that had my mouth watering. Damn, the woman looked hot as Hades in her tight jeans and bare feet.
“Actually, I think picking locks is one of my better qualities.” I selected a bottle of whiskey, pulling it down, almost dropping the damn thing on the floor since I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her.
She sauntered closer, wiping rain from her face, never blinking. Something ignited inside my chest, a burning hot feeling that I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“Well, I find the ink covering your body and the hard look in your eyes far more fascinating,” she cooed.
Fuck me, the woman’s sultry voice was about to make me crazy. I watched and waited as she pulled down two glasses from another cabinet, grabbing the bottle from my fingers but not before the tips touched. The red-hot searing heat was almost blinding.
She lifted her gaze very slowly as she unscrewed the cap, lifting and pouring both glasses. When she backed away, she dared to taunt me as she’d done with her sultry naked body before, only this time as she licked the rim of the glass, acting as if it was her private toy, I was about ready to jump out of my skin.
“You really are one bad girl.”
“You should know all about being bad. Right?”
Where she’d tossed my prison record in my face before, acting as if I was nothing but trash, this time she was being nothing but playful. “Yeah, I do, sweetheart. And you’re the kind of woman who needs to be reminded every single day how bad you are. You thrive on discipline.”
Her laugh sparked something highly possessive inside of me. I threw back a solid amount of the liquid, rubbing the back of my hand across my lips as soon as I did. All the while she studied me, the intense look in her eyes creating a rush of need. I could easily take her right here.
I wondered if she knew how pissed off I’d been when finding out Foxx had fucked her without us. I’d pounded my fist into the hotel room wall, putting a nice dent into the plaster. I’d called him a fucking traitor, a hypocrite. But here I was longing to have her all to myself if only for a short while.
Who was the hypocrite now?
We were a team, the other two men with me through thick and thin. We’d made a pact a long time ago, reiterated when I’d been handed down the lengthy prison term. One that included sharing a woman for the rest of our lives. Sure, it had been mentioned in jest by one of us but that didn’t mean it hadn’t crossed all three of our minds since meeting her.
Maybe she could be the one.
Only if she didn’t get herself killed.
She backed against the wall, nursing her drink where I was guzzling. All the way it seemed her mind was processing everything we’d shared, as well as what we could be facing.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a full minute had passed.
“Sorry for enjoying? Sorry for feeling nervous? Sorry for not trusting us?”
“All of that and also very sorry for treating you badly. I didn’t understand the horror of what you’d gone through. I was rude and insensitive and I had no right.”
“No, you didn’t, my little Irish girl,” I told her, but I was no longer angry. She’d had her share of crap tossed at her over the years.
“You forgive me?”
I grinned, lifting a single eyebrow, allowing myself to enjoy the view even more. “I’ll think of other ways you can make it up to me.”
