Broken Anchor (Sinful Truths Book 6) Read online

  “I need to go check on him.”

  “Check on him? Why? Won’t he come find you?”

  She bites her lip as a blush spreads. “Probably not.”

  “Why not?”

  She kisses me once more on the lips, and as much as I want to fuck her right here, she was just sick and needs to go deal with Langston. The sooner she can convince him, the sooner she’ll be safe.

  “He’s been shot and is probably in need of stitches. I’m guessing once he set the autopilot, he either took a pain pill or alcohol to pass out from the pain.”

  “Who shot him?”

  Siren walks to the door and opens it with a grin. “Me.”

  I smile back as I follow her out to head to the security room. “That’s my girl,” I whisper in her ear before kissing her hair and disappearing into the shadows.

  She doesn’t need me to protect her, but I’ll be here, waiting in the shadows. Waiting for the moment when I can finally save her for good.

  8

  Siren

  I walk up the stairs, feeling Zeke behind me in the hallway. With each step I take, I feel Zeke’s presence less and less. I don’t know if I’m making the right decision. I don’t know if convincing Langston to trust me is a good move or not. Or if I should just have Zeke kill him, as horrible as that sounds.

  Right now, all I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other. It’s an impossible task as it means each step I take is further away from Zeke.

  “I’ll be watching you. I’m with you. You got this,” Zeke says from behind me.

  His words feed me. I take another step, then another. Then I’m on the upper deck. Zeke is no longer with me, but he’ll be watching from the security cameras.

  I’m safe.

  I rub my stomach. We’re safe.

  I head to the bridge and knock on the door.

  There is silence at first, but then I hear the door unlocking and crack open. I push my way inside.

  I find Langston Bishop shirtless as he holds some gauze to his shoulder where I shot him. There is an open first-aid kit lying on the counter next to where he sits staring out at the ocean out the front window.

  I smile; I can’t help it. He looks young and innocent as he fumbles with the supplies trying to pull out the tweezers.

  “Your stomach better?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “Good.”

  He removes the gauze from his wound without a drop of pain on his face. Then he begins digging into his wound to pull out the bullet fragment. He starts to pull something out, but it’s not the bullet, instead, it’s pieces of his flesh.

  “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. I don’t think it’s from the pain, just the frustration of not being able to find the bullet.

  “Need some help?”

  He ignores me and digs the tweezers in. Again, he comes up empty.

  I sigh. I can’t watch him struggle.

  I march over and grab the tweezers from his hand, dig them into his wound, and pull out the bullet. I drop it into the trash bin.

  I don’t bother asking if he needs additional help. I just go to work. I swab the wound with alcohol and then find a staple gun that I can use instead of doing the stitching by hand.

  “Do you need any pain medication or alcohol first?” I hold the staple gun up, letting him know what I’m about to do.

  He grunts.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  I start stapling.

  “So considerate of you to ask if I need pain medicine before you staple me up, but not before you shoot me.”

  “You told me to shoot you!” I insert another staple. This time he hisses.

  “So you can feel pain. I thought you might be immune to feeling anything,” I say smugly.

  He rolls his eyes. “Of course, I can feel pain. But there is no use reacting to it; it doesn’t make the pain go away. It doesn’t make it any better.”

  “I agree,” I say as I put the last staple into his arm.

  Our eyes meet in a weird moment of understanding each other. I don’t know what happened to Langston that turned him into Bishop. I don’t know what pain he felt or horror he experienced, but I can understand how someone can let pain turn to anger. Although, Langston doesn’t seem angry.

  I finish working on his arm, adding more gauze and then wrapping it around his arm to hold it in place.

  “Thanks,” Langston Bishop says suddenly.

  I freeze. I wasn’t expecting a thank you. Julian sure wouldn’t say thank you after I stitched him up. He would have expected me to like I was his private nurse.

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for letting me shoot you. I feel better.”

  “Anytime,” he says with a smile as he wiggles his eyebrows.

  I laugh. “Really? I can shoot you anytime?”

  He shrugs. “If you really need it. A bullet wound in an extremity is hardly anything unusual for me.”

  I let my eyes roam his chest for the first time, and it’s then that I notice all the scars. Similar to Zeke’s. Similar to mine.

  I move the tank top straps on my shoulder, where I also wear the scar from a bullet wound.

  He stares at it a moment. “We are more similar than we are different.”

  “Probably. But I didn’t torture you. I just shot you after you told me to.”

  “You would have if given the chance.” Langston closes the first-aid kit and puts it back on the wall.

  “Of course.”

  He smiles at that and then moves back to the helm, looking at a navigation screen.

  I consider asking him to fix me, or to take me home, but what truly matters right now is gaining his trust. I earned some of it by fixing his shoulder, but I need to use this moment to get more. I need something to continue the trust that is slowly building between us.

  “Where are we going?”

  His head turns to me, and I can see all of his thoughts turning behind his bright blue eyes. Between his eyes and blonde hair, he seems like light instead of the darkness toiling beneath the surface. It’s the same darkness I feel inside Julian, yet it’s different somehow.

  “Spain,” he answers.

  My eyebrows raise, surprised he told me and not afraid to hide my shock to him.

  “I have a house there. We need to put some distance between us and everyone else.”

  “Is that where the box is?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Then why are we going there?”

  “We need some time and space for us to figure out where the box is.”

  His words tell me hardly anything, and yet they seem important, like a hidden message hides in his words only I can decode. Except I don’t have the code key.

  I don’t have a clue how to interpret his words or why we need time and space to find the box, when to my knowledge, Kai Black is the only person who knows where the box is because she hid it.

  “Go get some rest. And try not to get sick. The Sprite we have has to last you all the way to Spain.” He winks at me.

  “You’re not worried I’ll escape between now and then?”

  “How are you going to escape? We are in the middle of the ocean. We are all alone, just the two of us. I’ll make sure we can’t be tracked before I go to sleep.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I helped build the security system. I know how to disable the tracker. And I know how to use the system to keep an eye on you.”

  “So sure of yourself.”

  He nods. “Go to bed. You aren’t going anywhere. We both know that. You won’t go anywhere for the same reason you won’t kill me.”

  “Goodnight, Langston Bishop.”

  He frowns as I say the name I’ve been calling him in my head.

  “Goodnight, Siren Kane.” He uses Zeke’s last name, and it warms my heart.

  I head downstairs, anxious to talk to Zeke and to verify he’s really here. I pray he hasn’t left me, or that I didn’t imagine him earlier.

  I
don’t feel unsafe anymore around Langston Bishop, but I don’t feel safe either. I feel on edge. I feel unbalanced. And I can’t understand why.

  I open the door to my room and look around. The room seems empty, except for the bed. I don’t feel Zeke’s presence.

  I frantically move around the room, hoping he’s come back from the security room before Langston Bishop headed there himself. I move to the bathroom but don’t find him there either.

  My shoulders slump. My heart squeezes. I need my husband. I need him, and I don’t know how to call him back to me.

  I lean against the counter in the bathroom, exhausted and anxious. If he comes face to face with Langston Bishop alone, Zeke will try and kill him, which will ruin everything. Zeke won’t be able to forgive himself if he kills his friend without understanding his motives first. He won’t forgive himself if my head never heals.

  “Looking for someone?” Zeke says from the doorway.

  I catch my breath seeing him here.

  “Don’t do that to me,” I say as I race into his open embrace. His arms fall around my back, and he holds me tight against his chest.

  “You’re the one making me. If it were up to me, I’d shoot Langston now, and we could get off this yacht.”

  “How about you fuck me instead?”

  9

  Zeke

  How about you fuck me instead?

  My body instantly hardens at her words. I’m so desperate for her. I need her. I need to fuck her. I need to feel connected to her in every way.

  I feel selfish for wanting that when she’s been sick and having to deal with Langston, while I hide like a silent bodyguard. Watching her help Langston while he stood shirtless in front of her drove me mad.

  If we are going to keep this up, he better keep a shirt on from now on, because I won’t survive otherwise.

  And now she wants to fuck.

  “I need you, Zeke.”

  “You have no idea what that does to me.”

  She smirks. “I have an idea.” Her hand pushes between us until she’s gripping my hardening cock.

  “What about the security system? Are there cameras in the bedrooms?”

  “No.”

  Siren smiles. “Lock the door then.”

  “Already done.”

  She lifts her arms and steps back, waiting for me to lift her shirt with a seductive bat of her eyelashes.

  So I do as I’m silently told, and I’m rewarded by the most beautiful sight of her naked stomach and breasts. Siren has always been strong and muscular, but still very feminine. Now where her muscles once were flush against the surface is a softening, growing belly bump.

  “I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight.”

  She blushes. “Take off my shorts.”

  I step forward. The button on her shorts is already unbuttoned. Soon her clothes won’t fit over her stomach at all. I unzip the zipper and shimmy her shorts and underwear off her body until she is completely naked.

  I’m speechless watching her.

  “Your turn,” Siren says as I stand in front of her, still completely clothed.

  “Get in bed,” I order.

  Siren frowns.

  “Bed,” I command.

  She pouts but does as I say, brushing past me and swaying her hips as she does. She’s begging me to follow her with her body, but she doesn’t need to beg; I’ll be coming willingly.

  I remove my clothes quickly and then turn off the lights before I walk to the bed. Siren is lying on top of the covers, her legs spread, her nipples pebbling for me.

  “Under the covers,” I command.

  She frowns, thinking I’m turning her down. I’m not. I just don’t want to fuck her. I want to love her like she’s the queen. And if I touch her before getting her into bed where I want her, I’ll lose my control and fuck her like an animal.

  Once Siren is under the covers, I slide in next to her.

  “Face the window.”

  Again she gives me a dirty look but rolls on her side.

  I take a deep calming breath, trying my best not to let my need for her overtake me and turn into a devouring monster. I put my hand on her back, trailing my fingers down her spine slowly.

  I watch her breath speed up at the gentle gesture. I add my heated breath, too, as I continue to trace her spine with my fingertips.

  “Zeke,” she breathes, her voice achy and needy.

  I know what she wants. I’ll give it to her, but first, she needs to relax. She needs to feel safe and loved. And I want this to last as long as it can, which means taking things excruciatingly slowly.

  She takes a deep, calming breath. Her shoulders slump. I want her as relaxed as possible. I’m tired of making her tense and anxious. I’m tired of putting her through all of this. This needs to end. I need to stop this.

  For now, the only thing I can help ease is her stress. Soon I will ensure that our enemies are gone, no matter the cost. No matter what I have to do, I will protect her and our baby.

  My hands grip her neck, rubbing gently, then I move down to her shoulders and back, massaging every tense muscle. My hands slide lower, over her ass. I massage her ass too, then down her legs.

  She moans, her back relaxing into my hands as I massage her back.

  “Zeke,” her voice grows more desperate.

  “Shh, just feel. Don’t think. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

  Her head rolls back against my shoulder, and her arm reaches back, trying to pull me closer to her.

  I grin, watching how relaxed, yet needy, she is.

  Who am I kidding? I can’t hold back much longer, either.

  I push my body flush to hers until I can feel all of her back against my front. My cock pushes between her legs as I reach around and tease her nipples and kiss her neck.

  “I love you. I want to protect you,” I whisper.

  She moans as I flick her nipple with my thumb.

  “Let me protect you. Let me find a way to be the one to put myself in harm’s danger, not you. I can’t stand it. I love you too much to ever lose you. I wouldn’t survive.”

  She takes my hand in hers, as her legs part and my cock slips closer to her entrance.

  “Just like I couldn’t lose you. It’s not fair to think that you would be the only one to lose something if either of us fails,” she says.

  I push my hips forward slowly, so close to being inside of her, but knowing I won’t last the second I am.

  “Promise me you’ll let me protect you.”

  She moans. “Promise me you won’t risk your life to protect mine.”

  I can’t promise any more than she can.

  I reach between her legs and tease her clit.

  “Promise me,” I say, teasing her more, my cock taunting her entrance but not pushing inside her like she’s begging.

  She moans.

  Neither of us can stand it anymore. I start thrusting inside her, giving her all that I have—all my dreams, desires, wants. I slide in and out, our bodies gliding together.

  And just like I knew we would, too quickly we come.

  We both muffle our cries. The rooms are soundproof, but it’s still hard not to want to quiet our moaning when we don’t want Langston to know.

  I kiss over her ear, knowing she will never promise to let me protect her, but I’m going to promise her anyway. She needs to know how far I’ll go, what I’ll do to protect her. When she’s scared or worried, she needs to know that she is safe. I will never let anyone hurt her again.

  “I promise I’ll protect you.” I put my hand on her stomach. “I’ll protect both of you—always.”

  10

  Siren

  I’ll always protect you.

  Always.

  Those words play over and over in my head as I fall to sleep.

  You’re safe.

  I’ll protect you.

  I’ll keep you safe.

  Zeke?

  No, it’s not Zeke. He can’t keep you safe. I can.

&nb
sp; I sit up abruptly as memories start flooding my head. I gasp hard and fast, unable to catch my breath. My lungs are burning, and my chest is tight, but I don’t feel it, not really. I’m too focused on trying to remember the fleeting images.

  Zeke sits up abruptly next to me, grabbing his gun before he realizes how flushed I am. He puts his hand on my forehead.

  “You’re burning up,” Zeke says, trying to hide the worry in his voice, but I can sense it all the same.

  He runs to the bathroom and returns a minute later with a cool washcloth, a glass of water, and a thermometer.

  He puts the thermometer in my mouth, giving me a few more seconds before I will have to speak.

  Who was the man?

  The thermometer beeps, and Zeke removes it from my mouth with a slight relaxation of his facial muscles. “No fever.”

  He shoves the water into my hand. “Drink.”

  I sip, but I’m not worried about having a temperature or an illness.

  “A nightmare?” Zeke asks.

  I take another sip and then hand Zeke the water.

  “More like a memory.”

  “A bad one?” Zeke’s forehead brows until lines form around his eyes.

  “No.”

  Zeke rubs my back, helping me relax.

  “Want to tell me what it was about?”

  “Just a man telling me that he’ll protect me, but it wasn’t you.”

  Zeke frowns. “Enzo?”

  “No, I don’t know who the man was. He didn’t have a face, and he didn’t have a voice I recognized. At least the memory didn’t.”

  A knock on the door startles us both.

  “Langston Bishop,” I say as Zeke aims his gun at the door.

  Zeke sighs. “I don’t want to leave you. Not until I’m sure you are okay.”

  “I’m fine.” I stand up and head to the closet. I pull on a T-shirt and shorts and throw a robe over my body to stay warm.

  Zeke is dressed but otherwise sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Hide,” I hiss at him.

  He frowns but eventually heads to the closet.