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“Dammit!” Russ Hammond’s voice was a snarl that rushed out in tandem with his fist hitting the corner of his desk.
The other three men in the room scarcely acknowledged the outburst for they felt much of the same frustration.
Russ snarled again. “Why wasn’t anybody watching the son of a bitch?”
“Probably because we didn’t know he needed to be,” Jock shrugged a beefy shoulder. “He was just another nosy reporter looking for a scoop. Thought he’d catch Mike off guard asking about his old company’s connections.”
“Looks like he did catch him off guard,” Keene worried his lower lip. “What do we do next?”
“Well it’s useless to try tracking the guy down,” Scofield groaned.
“Hell yeah,” Jock hissed. “Chances are, Fray and them already got the man squared away somewhere.”
“What do you think he told him?”
No one had a ready response to Scofield’s question.
“Should we call VanSty?” Keene asked.
“No!” The query had Russ snarling again. “Y’all don’t breathe a word to them about this.”
The others nodded, but Russ could see the efforts were forced. “Look y’all, VanSty will panic if they think anybody other than whoever’s responsible for this list has a whiff of our connection to them.
If VanSty gets nervous enough, they could just clean house of us all. We’re just gonna have to forget the reporter for now and focus on what we can handle.”
Scofield bristled. “Such as?”
“Croix,” Jock guessed.
“Are y’all sure that’s a good idea? He’s been quiet for years,” Keene noted.
“Do you really think Fray wouldn’t drop in on him while he’s down there grabbing signatures to give us the boot?” Russ challenged.
“Then my question’s even more relevant,” Keene retorted. “Is heading down there smart if Fray’s already talked to him?”
“Fray’s not back yet though, is he?” Russ challenged his brother.
Keene’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still serious about this? Heading down there to fulfil this plan of yours?” He began to shake his head like a belligerent child. “No way, man. I should’ve said this before- this is stepping way over the line-”
“Are you forgetting what we’re already into, Key?” Jock snapped. “If that isn’t stepping over the line...”
“And we aren’t the only ones supplying VanSty’s needs,” Russ added. “They’ll have someone else ready to step into our places the second we’re out of the picture. I need to do this and we all know it. We also know that I can slip in and out of there without anyone noticing given how crazy it is now with Bin’s party and the holidays. We also know I’ve done it before.”
“And after that?” Jock asked. “I fail to see how getting rid of one problem gets rid of all our others.”
“My brother’s got a point, Russ,” Scofield added. “Do you really want to put your focus on whatever may or may not be going on down there instead of focusing on the mess we got here?”
“What makes you think I’m going down there to get rid of only one problem?”
Keene’s light eyes became blazing slits. “What the fuck are you thinking?”
“It’s time to give our cousins and brothers something else to obsess over, show ‘em what happens when they stick their noses into our end of the business.”
“Well shit man, won’t that just have ‘em coming after us harder?” Scofield’s voice shook slightly.
Russ was nodding. “I’m sure it will, but I’m also sure it’ll buy us time while we’re dealing with the aftermath. Once VanSty sees what we’re willing to do to protect our investment, we’ll prove ourselves as more than some expendable source and they’ll have our backs while this shit plays out. Right now, all we are is another bunch of suits greedy to make a big payday but not willing to get our own hands dirty to keep it.”
Jock, usually on board with Russ’s ideas, showed signs of doubt. “I don’t like using this particular method to challenge Fray, Zy and War, man. If it wasn’t for Bin, they would’ve killed us the last time. It’s only because of her they’ve worked with us this long. We do this, we better be goddamn sure we’re ready for the fallout.”
Russ stood. “Look at me, J. I’m sure.”
Jock spent almost half a minute sizing up his cousin before he extended a hand. “It’s good enough for me.”
The men sealed their commitment with a hearty shake.
***
New Island was an unforgettable sight, day or night but nothing compared to the place during its transformation from tourist attraction to family haven. The six ferries responsible for transporting visitors on or off the island, made trips from Charleston to the island in a continuous stream over the next few days. Several tourists and members of the media posing as tourists, held off leaving for as long as possible in hopes of catching a glimpse of the many notable members of the many native New Islanders.
The stir was always well received among the new arrivals. The most notable family members were well accustomed to frenzied crowds. They gave the lingering visitors the treat of autograph signings and brief interviews for the press on hand.
The diversion gave the other notable arrivals who weren’t so comfortable with celebrity status, the chance to head off to the lodgings secured on the island’s residential area. Others preferred The Taylor Hotel which was then closed to anyone not related to the Guthrie, Taylor, Hammond, Croix, Desmond or Noble families.
Fray guessed all the hubbub would eventually have he and El pulled in so many different directions that it’d be difficult for them to square away time alone. With that in mind, he decided that the arrival days would be the perfect time to indulge in a bit of fantasy. Actually, it was a bit of satisfying the curiosity that had been mounting since the last visit to LaRue’s.
“This is the last part of the hotel I should be in right now,” El complained as they entered the restaurant.
“As a satisfied guest I can confirm that your staff is completely on top of its game,” Fray hugged El closer to his side. “I doubt that’s changed much over the last few weeks since I got here.” He put a kiss to the top of her head. “I think they can handle you getting lost for a while.”
El only half listened. Her thoughts were stuck on his mention of the length of his stay. A few weeks? Had it really been that long? Or...short, depending on how one looked at things. It seemed as if it had only been the day before when she was clutching a knife to her chest and debating over whether to use it on the man she loved.
The man she loved. She still hadn’t told Fray that he’d never stopped being that man. After the past few weeks it was clear to her that he was still that man.
Ellia’s curiosity had gained a foothold by then and she was practically speechless. They were inside LaRue’s but not heading for the dining room. There was a quick exchange of words between Frayzer and the host on duty for the lunch hours. Then, they were being led toward a corridor near the front of the restaurant.
“Fray.” The lone word was enough to reveal that she’d guessed his intentions.
“Didn’t I read on your mission statement something about all guests’ wishes being fulfilled?”
El snorted. “Within reason.”
Fray snapped his fingers. “You should really include that part in the statement.”
“I will next time, since I’ve never had a guest so insistent about having his wishes granted.”
Fray stopped walking then. They’d been following the host down the corridor. When the man glanced back and noticed his guests weren’t right behind him, Fray gave a slight wave to indicate he and El needed a moment.
He moved before her. His height and build blocking everything from her line of sight except him.
“You’ll never have another guest like that if I have my way,” he told her. “I plan to have my way El if you allow it and somehow I think you will.” He cupped her elbow and they resumed the trip down the long corridor.
“You know where we’re going?” He asked.
“Mmm hmm...”
“Because you own the place?”
“That too.”
“Plot thickens...” laughter enveloped his baritone octave. “So you’ve enjoyed the amenities but not with a guest.”
She smiled. “You’re oversimplifying to say I enjoyed them. It’s more accurate to say I was encouraged to enjoy them.”
“Ahh...so not with guests...co-workers?”
El only kept her easy smile in place.
“Something tells me I might finally get the story of that offer for a three-way with LaRue and Vixen.”
“Never.”
“That’s a long time, Elli, considering I’m never letting go again.” Fray stopped in the corridor once more. That time, he drew her into a deep kiss.
In case the host had turned once again; to investigate the whereabouts of his guests, Fray gave another absent wave to indicate they’d need a moment.
~~~
The LaRue’s private lounges were indeed more than lounges. The spaces had the look and size of a small studio apartment with furnishings that encouraged relaxation. Settees and large armchairs were upholstered in decadent fabrics and colors of deepest burgundy and burnished gold as was the plush carpeting that covered the entire floor.
Soft lighting came by way of towering lamps in the corners, on end tables and wall sconces. There were no other sources of light, besides the blazing fires in the hearth; once the storm season and winter were underway. There were no windows, only elegant drapes of merlot colored satin gave the illusion of them.
The drapes weren’t only for the illusion of windows, but were also to shield or display the room’s most unexpected feature- the bed. Fray had been curious about what the space had to offer ever since the not-so-subtle hint he and El had received to enjoy the spot during their last visit.
More than that, he’d been curious about what it’d feel like to have her there with him. Only to himself could he admit to being afraid that she might withdraw after uncovering the truth of the branding rituals. Then there were the depraved acts his great great grandfather had carried out against his own people. Only a fool would think he had a chance with a woman who had suffered such as El had at the hands of his own family.
She hadn’t withdrawn, though. If anything, the revelations of the last days had brought them closer-bound them. Because of that, Fray felt more of his own character coming into play during their time together. He was so far removed from the boy he’d been when their relationship had first become physical.
Frayzer Guthrie was a man who took what he wanted. Never without a woman’s consent, but once he had it, he took and vigorously. With El, he knew it was about more than taking vigorously because it wasn’t only her sexual consent he was after. It was her forgiveness.
Now, he had it. At least, he believed he did. She had no anger for him. She’d said so herself. That was the answer to the question that had preoccupied him for so long. How could he be who he was with the one he loved when he’d hurt her the way he had?
The how was in her forgiveness...and her happiness. Was that happiness because of him and what they’d found with one another again? His naturally arrogant side said yes, but it was the side that loved that spoke the loudest. It was the side that said it didn’t matter why she was happy, only that she was. Now they were here and what mattered most to him in that moment, was taking what he wanted and vigorously.
The round bed was displayed on a platform of gleaming white oak. It was the only space in the room not covered by the plush carpet. Only a thin sliver of a thick merlot colored rug ran the length of the brief stairway leading up to the stunning king. The bed had the look of a massive pillow encased in a rich satin comforter done in a mosaic print of vibrant purple, midnight blue and emerald green. Topping off the bewitching space was a ceiling mirror directly above the bed and practically the circumference of it.
El busied herself getting warm near the hearth that blazed with a delightful aromatic fire. Temps had been in steady decline since the start of the departures and new arrivals a few days prior. Fires had been lit all over the hotel to deal with the chill that central heating could never quite defeat.
A short table had been placed to the side of the bearskin rug spread before the fire to lend a further sense of debauchery to the room. The table had been set with a platter of cheese and fruit as well as a bucket to chill the bottle of red that had been placed inside it. The fruit had taken El’s mind off getting warm, but Fray decided refreshments could wait. He swung El off her feet just after she’d plucked her second grape from the bowl.
Her laughter filled the air but tapered once Fray took the steps up the platform and followed her down to the bed. Determination flared potently in his gray-flecked eyes, heightening El’s expectancy and arousal in unison. She matched the hunger in his kiss with her own once his mouth was crushing hers, driving her head into the pillow bed.
El’s nerve endings thrummed, sensitized to everywhere he touched her body. His fingertips turned her skin to gooseflesh when they trailed the backs of her thighs where the lacy tops of her stockings ended. All the while, he spread the limbs to more adequately accommodate his frame.
Ellia’s whimpers as they kissed were fueled by pleasure as well as anticipation. Fray ground against her and she could feel his sex steadily defining against her. When he broke the kiss to suckle her earlobe, her whimpers were accompanied by a mix of sighs and gasps.
The approving sounds melded with ones of distinct disapproval when she could no longer feel his mouth at her ear or his sex insistent against hers. Eyes opening, El saw that Fray was working his way down her body. He’d taken the hem of her dress and was lifting the material as his head descended.
He didn’t bother with removing her underthings. Instead, he used his nose to nuzzle the outline of her sex against the crotch of her panties. Then, his tongue was driving against the fabric. For El, the sensation was delightful torture intensified by the wispy barrier. Soon, she was the one tugging at her dress and drawing the garment over her head.
Fray pushed to his knees to watch her strip and bare her chocolate kissed skin. Her lacy, black underthings were an erotic enhancement that simply made her more irresistible. For a time, he seemed content with mere observation, skimming El’s dips and curves until his contentment drained. The need to see her bared to his gaze gradually overruled all else.
His touch embodied finesse and Ellia appreciated the care he showed while relieving her of her undergarments. Of course, her delicates were the last things she cared about. By the time he’d freed her of the last stitch, impatience had El writhing.
Fray only took time to come out of his dark crew shirt, before he was drawing her to him again. He claimed her with one smooth thrust from his tongue, driving it deep until her hips lifted off the bed. Gently, he settled her-loosely cradling her hips as he continued to take her with the oral kiss.
El luxuriated in the satiny comforter at her back, not to mention the satin texture of his hair beneath her palms. Greedily, they roamed taking delight in the pitch waves as his head nudged, dipped and shifted with every new angle he brought to the intimate kiss.
With the same enthusiasm that her hands scouring his head, her inner muscles frantically clutched his tongue. Squeezing the organ like a vice, El fought for release. Need slammed her like a tidal wave, brought on by touch and the added stimuli of sight. The overhead mirror provided a superb view of Fray working her body into a state of erotic oblivion. She loved the look of him. She loved the look of herself with him. She loved the look of herself being loved. The imperfections she’d mourned were still there, but she couldn’t sense the power they tended to wield.
Just when she thought she could stand no more; but very much wanted to, he withdrew. The mistake had him suffering the wrath of her fist pounding the slabs of muscle packing his back. Her sudden frustration fanned out almost as quickly as it had flared.
Fray had deprived her of his tongue and replaced it with the part of his body she wanted most. He’d freed himself of his jeans and boxers and was on his knees again. His hands were secure beneath her thighs and squeezing in time to every deep stroke he subjected her to.
He drew her impossibly close that time and El had to close her eyes to what the mirror reflected. She didn’t want to orgasm yet, but looking at Fray made that impossible to resist. The sight of his chiseled, dark-as-night body hunched and flexing amid his provocative exertions, were the things orgasms were made of. She didn’t want to climax. She wanted more of him. She wanted all of him. Always.