Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(220)
Bullets pepper the water around us as I stare at him; “What?!”
“Drive the fucking boat!” He screams at me, ducking as another wave of bullets flies our way.
I'm grabbing the outboard motor and jolting us forward so fast that Javier tumbles back into the boat as we roar off into the marina; “Where the hell are we going?” I scream at him, still eyeing the gun in his hand.
Javier looks up, his eyes wild as he scans the marina, before they narrow; “There.” He's pointing to a mid-sized luxury yacht at anchor.
“What?”
“That one.”
“That one, what?”
“That’s the boat we're stealing.”
I start to slow the engine, but he whirls back to me; “You want to die here in Aruba, princess?”
Not really.
“No.”
“Ever been in a fucking gunfight before?”
I scowl at him; “I've had plenty of training in-”
“So yeah, that's a no then?”
My eyes narrow at him, but I don't; answer.
Javier’s eyes dart to the men running onto the dock behind us; “Get us to the boat, spy-girl, or we're toast.”
“Nice driving, princess,” He mutters as we clamber up the stairs of the yacht's back landing.
“Will you stop calling me that!” I say, snapping at him.
He whirls; “Well that is what you are, isn't it? Daddy's little princess? Heir to the fucking Archer throne?” I can feel my face going pale as I stare at him, all the while watching his grin get wider; “Yeah, I know who you are, Chelsea.”
His accent is thickly Latin; all smoke and espresso and liquor. It’s salsa dancing and late, dangerous nights.
It’s also the voice of the man who almost destroyed my life, and that’s as raw and dangerous as it gets.
My eyes drop to the gun in his hand, suddenly tensing as the reality of this insane situation starts to really sink in. He looks at me questioningly before he follows my gaze. Quickly, he puts the safety on the gun and tucks it into the back of his shorts.
“You're welcome, by the way.”
I frown; “Excuse me?”
“For saving that cute princess ass of yours, baby.”
“You didn't-”
“Oh, seriously?” He rolls his eyes at me as he turns and marches toward the main cabin.
“Hey! Get back here!” I stomp after him, my eyes darting around the boat for something to stop him with. This whole thing was planned, down to the letter. I spent three days straight figuring every angle, every exit, and every variable of this whole thing.
Clearly, that was a colossal waste of three days.
I storm into the control room just as Javier starts to rev the motor; “Do not start this boat up, Toro.”
He snorts and shifts the engine into drive, not even turning around; “No can do, princess. We stay, we get shot.” He shoots me a smirking grin over his shoulder; “I somehow doubt you've ever been shot, so let me just spoil the surprise and tell you it fucking sucks.” He turns back, lurching the boat forward; “It sucks almost as bad as getting stabbed in the fucking neck.”
My eyes suddenly land on the gun sticking out of his shorts and I freeze.
'Whats the matter, rook? Ain't got the stones?'
Koufax’s obnoxious voice rumbles through my head, and before I can even second guess myself, I lunge forward and yank the gun out of his pants; “I said stop the fucking boat!”
That gets his attention. He lets the yacht drift to a stop as he freezes.
“For the last time, I'm telling you to get on your knees and-”
Javier whirls, knocking the gun from my hands as we both topple backwards. There's a scramble, and I'm shoving against him, but the reality is that he's much stronger than me. In a second, he's got me on my back, his body hovering over mine with my hands held firmly by the wrists above my head.
There's something almost sexual about the position, and I can feel my whole body burn with heat feeling him against me like that. His face looks wild with his strong, chiseled jaw, and his dark brown eyes flashing at me. His black hair is tousled, framing his face, and I'm suddenly keenly aware of his lack of shirt.
I'm also keenly aware of something pressing against my thigh.
Oh my God, is he hard?
His lips part slightly, his teeth white and flashing at me. Our eyes meet, and there’s just this pure fire between them. It’s wild and animalistic, mixed with anger and resentment. But there's a single second when we lock eyes on each other, and we both see it.
But the moment passes, and then I'm just being held to the ground by a target I'm supposed to have halfway back to an embassy by now. And so I do what any rational woman would do when pinned to the ground by a dangerous, shirtless stranger, however perfect a body he has or however handsome a face: I scream.