Page 1 of Tick Tock, Darling

Chapter One

Caspian

I popped the cork and sprayed champagne across the two lovelies in my private cabin aboard the Ticking Tide. Twins. Charity and Chastity. Somebody’s mother had a sense of humor. I’d have bought her a spiked eggnog.

Platinum blondes, ample tits, cheap perfume over clean skin. Both of them dressed to be unwrapped. The perfect Christmas present for me.

A witch with no makeup on and enough power to level this boat came into my head. I put her right back out again. Off limits. She'd told me so more than once and I'd heard her every time.

Charity came as Santa — red velvet, white trim, a hat she hadn’t taken off. Chastity had gone elf, green and short, with the shoes. Charity shrieked and arched into the spray. Her sister took it across one bare shoulder and laughed, low.

Six weeks hauling Santi cargo up from the Gulf with the wards sweating in my hold. Six weeks feeding like a man who couldn’t afford a mistake — small, cold, out of a cup. Last crate went ashore at dusk. Money was clean by nine. The twins were paid for by ten, twice over: once for the bed, once for the wrist.

Christmas was a couple weeks out and I wanted some fun. No, I wanted a lot of fun. Needed it. Two willing women, a locked door, and nothing on my calendar but them.

Charity sauntered over and dragged her fingers down my chest. “Caspian.” She kissed me on my neck.

Her mouth was warm. Everything was, from where I stood.

Her heart came through the kiss, quick and close and shoving blood up her throat past mine. My fangs pressed down against my own gums, patient, waiting to be let out. And when she swallowed I heard the champagne go down — every inch of it, wet and bright and hers.

Six weeks. I ran the number like I’d run the manifest: one swallow off the wrist, two if she laughed about it, and stop before the room started to swim. Go past that and I’d be sloppy for a day, and sloppy was how men ended up explaining themselves to Angelo with their hands on the table.

I kissed her back and waited to stop thinking. That had been the entire point of her, and it wasn’t working.

Hands settled at the small of my back, cool from the bottle. I hadn’t heard her cross the room, which meant she’d meant for me not to.

“You’re so sexy.” Bored. Flat as a ledger.

Better than her sister’s mouth. Charity was having a wonderful night. Chastity was working — watching my jaw, counting my teeth, doing sums she’d repeat to somebody by morning — and I wanted to know what she’d charge and who else was buying.

Two women, a clean deck, and the Ticking Tide riding empty under us for the first time in six weeks.

“You’d know what I like, gorgeous…”

Charity twirled her finger in my long hair. “Anything you want, handsome.”

I slipped my hand around her neck and the silly Santa hat fell off. “A back rub.” I scraped my fangs across her neck. God, she tasted hot and spicy.

A rapid knock hit my door. “Captain?”

What could possibly be wrong? I told the Crocodile I didn’t want to be disturbed. We had just docked less than twelve hours ago.

“Excuse me, ladies.” I tilted up Chastity’s face and bit her lip. “It will only be a moment.”

Charity followed me and wrapped her arms around my waist. She slipped down to my jeans and unbuttoned them, quick, and I forgot the door entirely.

I opened it. “What?”

Crocodile shrugged.

Behind him stood Angelo Santi. Dark suit, hands loose at his sides, no expression at all.

Enzo Di Salvo hung back where the deck lights hadn’t reached. He didn’t need to be seen. He never has.

He made me. Pulled me off a deck I’d bled out on and gave me this instead, and I’d been his ever since. His and Angelo’s. One long debt with no bottom to it.

Angelo brought him when the talking was finished.