“I’ll do the talking,” I tell Jess. She looks like she might want to argue, but in the end she just nods. Good. She’s learning. For a split second I’m hit with a twinge of guilt—am I really any better than her father? But I’m trying to protect her.
Frank drops his hands in his pockets and gives us both a narrow look but doesn’t bother to move toward us at all. Instead he just stands there, waiting for us to come to him.
If that’s the way he wants to play it, that’s fine with me. I straighten my tie and saunter on down the stairs, Jess’s arm securely in mine. “Frank,” I say. No point being rude. Not yet, anyway.
“Cain.” He pauses a moment before tilting his gaze toward Jess. “Ms. Spada.”
She tenses almost imperceptibly. I squeeze her hand where it lies against my arm and look Frank right in the eye. “That’s Mrs. McAllister to you,” I say.
Frank’s eyes widen. I’ve genuinely caught him off guard. I have to wonder what Spada has told his men about me, about Jess. About us. Frank opens and closes his mouth a few times. He looks like a grouper.
Finally he says, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
I smirk. “Want to see the marriage license?”
He looks down, and I realize he’s looking for our rings. Of course we don’t have any. I’ll take care of that soon enough. When his gaze lifts back to mine, he’s got his teeth clenched.
“Spada’s not going to let you get away with this.”
I continue down the stairs. He’s not going to stop me. He doesn’t have the balls. “Think I give a shit what Spada thinks? We’re married. He’ll just have to deal. And you…” I stop, looking him up and down. He flinches, just a little. “You can just fuck right the hell off.”
And I continue to my car with Jess—my wife—on my arm.
CHAPTER SIX
Jessica
I lean back in my seat on the plane and take a sip of the fruity, umbrella-garnished drink the flight attendant brought me a few minutes ago. I didn’t even know you could get umbrella drinks on a plane. Apparently you can if you fly first class.
It surprised me that Cain was so insistent on a honeymoon. I figured our crazy fuck in the county clerk’s office was going to be the best I’d get. But he’s insisting on doing it up right. So we’re on our way to Cancún.
I’ve never been to Cancún before, and it’s never occurred to me until just now to wonder why. I guess I just never got around to it. I went to Puerto Vallarta once, but now that I think about it, the last time I talked about going on vacation, Pop went cold and quiet, and I knew he didn’t want me to go.
Well, fuck him, anyway. That part of my life—the part where I’m constantly under Pop’s thumb—is over now. I have bigger and better things to focus on now.
Like my husband. Who’s next to me, drinking wine out of a can with a big gorilla face on it. Apparently it’s good wine even though it comes out of a can. He grins toothily as I look toward him, and I smile back. Then he leans toward me and says something so filthy I feel my cheeks go red.
“I keep thinking about how it felt to come inside your tight pussy.”
“Cain…”
“Who’s going to hear?”
“I don’t know. The people behind us, maybe?” Probably not. They’re talking, after all, and I can’t understand anything they’re saying. The background noise on the plane is too loud.
Cain leans in and murmurs again. “I’m going to make you my wife twenty-seven times once we land. In the first six hours. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk. You’re going to be so worn out from sex that you won’t even be able to check out the sights.”
I laugh a little. “If you’re going to keep me flat on my back in bed, we could have gone somewhere a little less expensive.”
“Who said anything about flat on your back? Or even in bed, for that matter? I’ve got us a suite. I can fuck you on the bed, over the table, on the chair, on the couch, on the sink, in the shower…” He pauses. “I’m sure there’ll be a few other options, too.”
It’s not exactly romantic talk, but it’s got me so wet and puffy between the legs I can feel it, like my panties are a size or two too tight. Apparently I like that kind of filthy talk. But if I haven’t figured that out by now, I haven’t been paying attention.
“I was hoping to at least see the beach,” I tell him, trying to sound aloof, as if his vivid descriptions of what he’s going to do to me have no effect on me at all. “And maybe brush up on some of my Spanish.”