The Power Trip

was the cowardly thing to do, but a full-out row with Jeromy was not something he wished to contemplate.

Jeromy would not go quietly into the night, of that he was sure.

* * *

Bianca paced around the luxurious master suite like a caged tigress. How had she allowed one small disagreement to blossom into a fully-fledged fight?

She was mad at herself. Then again, she was even more mad at the Chinese do-gooder with the compact body and shiny black hair. Was it possible that Aleksandr actually fancied her?

No. Pure fantasy. How could Aleksandr even look at another woman when he had her? Their lovemaking alone was superlative, passionate and mind-blowing. Nobody could beat the magic they made together.

Tomorrow was her birthday, and for the last few hours her inner voice had been giving her a stern lecture.

Forgive him or you’ll lose him.

Why should I?

Because he’s a man. A proud, strong man. And for once admit you’re wrong.

I’m not wrong.

Who cares? Stop ruining everything.

Okay, okay, I get it.

Impulsively, she reached for a sheet of paper and scribbled Aleksandr a short note. Then she rang for someone to take it to him.

Soon he would be all hers again.

Chapter Seventy-Six

By eleven p.m. Cruz had launched both boats. He’d heard from Mercedes that things were winding down on The Bianca, guests were retiring early and everything was on track.

Mercedes was a real asset; she’d turned out to be the son he’d always dreamed of having. She was as tough as a boy in a female body. And she was his daughter. Her mother was dead. He’d raised her himself, trained her to take no shit from anybody, taught her plenty — all the tricks. She was a smart girl, a fast learner, sharp as a carving knife.

In a way he almost depended on her. As far as this job was concerned, it sure helped having someone on the inside, for this job was special. Major bucks were on the line. Not to mention Sergei Zukov hovering over him like a hawk. No fuck-ups allowed.

He fingered the hunting knife he kept close to his shin in a concealed pocket. On occasion knives could be more intimidating than guns. People recoiled from knives and so they should. The slash of steel cutting into flesh was never pretty, and Cruz had a few scars to prove it. He often recalled the whore in Guatemala who’d attempted to rob him after a wild night of sex. She’d wielded a carving knife across his stomach and almost killed him. Fortunately he’d been found on the street where her pimp had dumped him, and a Good Samaritan cab driver had rushed him to a nearby clinic. When he’d recovered, Cruz had tracked down the cab driver and handed the surprised and grateful man five thousand dollars in cash. Next he’d returned to the whore’s room, slit her throat and shot her pimp in the balls. No regrets.

Then there was the skipper of the cargo ship who’d come at him with a steak knife and managed to slash his neck before Cruz had plunged his own knife into the man’s heart. Death while protecting some rich oil company man’s shit. Estupido.

Yes, Cruz had experienced several encounters with knives. He was not afraid of violence.

Sergei’s decision not to be a part of the hijack pleased him. Having the man along would only have slowed things down, and there was no doubt that he would’ve gotten in the way.

Meanwhile, after Googling him, Cruz had discovered that this Kasianenko puta was one richer-than-shit asshole, worth billions. The joke was that all they were asking as a ransom was a measly five million dollars.

It wasn’t enough. By the time he’d split the money with Sergei and paid his men their share, he’d be lucky to end up with a paltry million.

He’d attempted to explain this to Sergei, who was more interested in taking Kasianenko prisoner than walking away with a king’s ransom. The problem was that Sergei was so loaded down with drug money he didn’t care. All he was really focused on was getting his revenge.

After thinking about it for the past few days, Cruz had begun to realize that if he played it his way, this hijack caper could turn out to be the score of a lifetime. Forget about the five mill. How about fifty? Or even one hundred?

If he was smart, it could all be his. Enough to get him out of the piracy business once and for all. He could get the fuck out of Somalia and buy himself a fancy mansion far away — the Bahamas, Los Angeles, Argentina — anywhere in the world. He could live a life where he wasn’t forced to surround himself with armed guards and watch his back at all times in case some Somalian chingado decided to get rid of the foreigner who was making money from their business.

Why not? This was an opportunity that would never come around again.

Cruz was conflicted. As the powerful speedboat sped across the nighttime sea, crowded with his men and one of Sergei’s guards — he’d separated the two Russians — he couldn’t decide what to do. If he didn’t go along with what Sergei expected, he’d be saddled with a lifetime enemy.

Yet… if he handled things his way, he’d have more money than he’d ever imagined.

Sergei’s way.

His way.

He didn’t have much time to make the right decision.

Chapter Seventy-Seven

‘Y’know, I never realized making up could be this sexy,’ Bianca purred, twisting her long slender legs around Aleksandr’s neck as the two of them lay naked and entwined on the over-sized bed in the master suite.

‘You took me away from our guests,’ Aleksandr said, shifting his body until he was able to plunge his tongue into her silky wetness.

‘Uumm…’ she moaned with pleasure. ‘Perhaps they needed an early night.’

Aleksandr came up for air. ‘You are such a provocative woman, Bianca,’ he said, his voice heavy with lust. ‘At times you make me into a crazy man.’

‘Crazy with desire, I hope,’ she murmured, adjusting her position until she was able to take him in her mouth as he continued to pleasure her.

‘Yes, my golubushka,’ he groaned. ‘Always desire.’

A few moments of bliss before a simultaneous orgasm occurred.

After vocalizing her pleasure, Bianca rolled over and threw her arms above her head. ‘That was amazing,’ she cooed.

‘For both of us,’ Aleksandr said, thinking how satisfied he was that Bianca had apologized. She was truly sorry, and so was he for entertaining sexual thoughts about Xuan.

‘You are without a doubt the best lover,’ Bianca sighed, feeling extremely content. ‘The best I ever had.’

‘You too, my sweet. And for the future we have to make absolutely sure that petty jealousy never separates us again.’

‘And it never will,’ Bianca assured him. ‘I promise you that.’