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My stomach grows tense. “Shoot, okay…shoot! I’ll get on but hit me first.”
“Say what?”
“Hit me. Knock me out. I won’t willingly walk on that boat. My feet just know better.” I catch a partial smirk on his face, but as fast as it appears, it’s gone. He runs his tongue over his lower lip, and I lose focus on the issue at hand. I watch the way his dark blue eyes glimmer from the streetlamp above as he casts a sultry glance my way.
“I’m not going to hit you.” He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “If anything, I’d like to do something else to distract you.”
Uh oh.
“Like what? I actually don’t take pain very well. I’m not sure why I suggested that earlier—”
He steps forward, and warmth spreads over my skin as one hand curves around my waist while the other cups my cheek. Then, his lips are on mine, slow and tentative. It doesn’t take long before I lean into him, my hands finding their way around his neck. He takes that as my invitation to keep going, kissing me with a degree more of intensity, causing the world around me to sway. His tongue parts my shivering lips, sending a tremor of heat between my legs, evoking sensations unfamiliar to me. Before I know it, I’m kissing him back—truly kissing him.
His hands cup my butt cheeks, and he lifts me in his arms. My dress hikes up my thighs and I wrap my legs around him. We stay like this, our lips fitting together like two puzzle pieces. I let out a soft whimper of anticipation as he explores my mouth, no longer caring about the slamming of angry waves against the pier, instead focusing on the inferno of passion rolling through me. Just as his kiss becomes more demanding, he withdraws slowly, drops my feet to the ground, and pulls away. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
My sight is still fogged over. My hands shake at the adrenaline running through my veins. The world around me is nonexistent. “What wasn’t?” I ask, my voice hoarse, inhaling a shallow breath.
Logan adjusts his suit jacket, brushing out the wrinkles. “Getting on the boat.”
What? We’re not on the—holy crap! We are on the boat! “How…when…?”
“You just needed a distraction. I gave it to you.” His eyes are transfixed on my swollen lips. There’s a temptation in the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Don’t think too much into it. We gotta hurry.” His hand clasps around mine, pulling me forward. We weave through clusters of small crowds dancing and drinking, stopping at a set of stairs leading to the lower level. The lower we go, the more the music and sounds of partygoers fade into the distance.
“Where are we going?” I ask, though I probably don’t want to know.
“Below deck. It’s sealed off to the public. Vincent has cargo being transported to look like catering for the gala.” He suddenly stops, and I slam into his back. Twisting his body around to face me, he offers me a warning glare. “Don’t say a word. Don’t make eye contact. Stay next to me, and do not wander off.” He starts walking again, and I latch onto his bicep…well, as much of it as I can.
“What’s in the crates?”
“No more questions. The less you know, the better.”
He tries to walk, and I tug at his arm. “Yeah, but maybe a hint? Drugs? Stolen cars? Bodies?” I’ll need to know this for when I make it home—if I make it home—because I’m writing up every single juicy bit of this.
He eyes me threateningly. “Get that stupid idea out of your head right the fuck now.” There’s that growling again.
“What idea?” I ask sweetly. I’d be dumb to pass up the opportunity to write about Chicago’s mob boss wheeling and dealing drugs through Navy Pier’s most elite entertainment yachts— “Ouch!” I yelp when he pushes me into the stairway wall.
“Don’t. Be. Stupid,” he hisses, his warm breath caressing my face. “I should have left you to the wolves the second I realized you were a fraud.”
“And why didn’t you? You didn’t have to say I was your girlfriend. Could have said I was no one and walked away.” His angry eyes burn into mine. This may be where I kiss my good fortune goodbye. “Okay, sorry! It’s just…I’m nervous and a little scared. I don’t know what I’m walking into down there. If you could just tell me what to expect and maybe remind me of Vincent’s last name again—”
“You two fucking up there? Get the hell down here. Vincent’s waiting,” Chino shouts, breaking the moment and my chance at a possible lead. Logan looks ready to jump down my throat and strangle me from the inside out. He pushes off the wall and grabs my wrist, dragging me the rest of the way down. When we reach the bottom level, it’s complete chaos. Men in suits haul large wooden boxes onto catering carts. Once a cart is full, a white sheet is thrown over it, and a food label is slapped on the side. One after another, as if anyone’s going to believe someone ordered this much food.
