CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Oh, you're such a good girl," he said, turning off the overhead light in his bedroom so nothing but the moonlight coming through the windows illuminated Vica's perfect body.

He had plans for her, but a big part of him wanted to feel her mouth around his cock first. He wanted to watch her crawl across the bed to him, slide his length between her lips, and feel that wet, hot little tongue caress him.

Her eyes flicked to his and her mouth tipped up into the sweetest of smiles. "Wyatt …"

Pulling in a deep breath through his nose, he banished any thought in his brain besides the dirty ones. After their bath and more painkillers, his body was feeling okay. He didn't want Vica to sleep another night on the couch. He wanted her in his bed, in his arms.

Padding barefoot across the wood floor, he stood at the foot of the bed. "Crawl to me," he said, his voice low and gruff as he took in her reaction. He couldn't see if her pupils dilated or not, but he didn't have to. Not after the way she scrambled up from her back onto her knees and approached him, a hungry look in her gaze.

He was still hard as fuck from their bathtub fun, so she easily knew what he wanted.

He was like a fucking fifteen-year-old when she gripped him at the base with her hand and angled him toward her mouth. It'd been a long time since he'd gotten head. A really long time.

Glancing up at him with those sultry, brown, bedroom eyes, she watched him watch her as she slowly slid him past her parted lips where she then wrapped her tongue around him.

His fingers immediately found her hair, and he held her there. Not forcefully. Not aggressively, and he didn't push her to take him deeper. She did that all on her own.

He knew Vica was fiery, and sensual, and sexy as absolute fuck, but the way she took him to the back of her throat, closed her eyes, and massaged his cock with her tongue, took her to a whole new left of sex kitten goddess.

He was going to blow his load way too quickly if he didn't mix things up. She even knew just how to squeeze the base with her fist and flick the tip with her tongue to make him see stars, and for everything in his belly to warm and tighten.

With his fingers still in her hair, he gently guided her off him. "Gonna make me come too quick if you keep going like that."

With a sultry, sleepy look in her eyes, she smiled and batted her lashes.

He lost all decorum and self-composure after that, and with two hands on her shoulders, he pushed her back to the bed and climbed over her.

If a person could actually purr like a kitten, Vica got as close as humanly possible. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she cupped her breasts and plucked at her nipples. A groan rumbled up from deep in his chest as he sunk to his belly and shouldered her knees further apart.

Just a nice little lick to her clit was how he started. Followed by another, and another .

Her gasps, and the roll and lift of her hips, made him smile as he swept his tongue up through her labia, probing gently at her hot, slick center.

She continued to massage her breasts, and he watched as she closed her eyes, bit her lip, and gave over to not only the pleasure he gave her, but the pleasure she gave herself.

Sliding one finger, then another into her tight center, he curled his fingers upward until he felt that firm little button, then he gently pressed and rubbed, making her gush across his finger and palm.

Drawing her clit into his mouth, he sucked, and her hips shot off the bed, her pubic bone knocking him in the nose.

"Oh, dio ," she breathed. "Fuck. Fuck yes."

Gathering as much of her arousal as he could with the fingers of his other hand, he brought them lower and pressed against her tight hole. "Let me in, Vica," he murmured, his tongue still working.

She pushed out with her muscles and one finger slid in easily.

Her gasp and moan made him smile again.

"Ohhh," she cooed when he found a rhythm that worked. He had fingers inside her in two places and just a thin, sensitive membrane separated them. Rubbing his fingers against each other while alternating between circles around her clit and sucking on it like a Popsicle, he had her head thrashing and her legs shaking in a matter of minutes.

Fingers abruptly gripped him by the hair, nails raking his scalp as another fresh, warm gush of her honey rushed past his fingers. He did his best to lap it up, but there was so much of it. She'd already soaked the sheet below and the entire lower half of his face was wet.

And he fucking loved it.

"Wyatt," she breathed. "Oh … dio . Please … please."

"Anything, Vica. What do you need?"

"Another … another finger in my ass and I'm going to come so hard. I … I'm almost scared."

Well, if that didn't inflate his ego to the size of a goddamned blimp. "Your wish is my command, my wife. Let me in." He slipped a second finger in beneath the first when she pushed out and relaxed her muscles again, then he spread his fingers so she could get a little stretch.

"Jesus … Christ …" Her body went rigid, her knees clamped down around his head on his ears, so he was temporarily deaf, and the woman exploded around him. He was sure she was making noises, but everything was muffled based on how tightly she squeezed her thighs.

Her pussy spasmed around his fingers as her clit swelled and throbbed against his tongue. He never stopped though. He kept sucking, kept licking, kept pressing up on that tender little button, and slowly scissoring his fingers in her ass.

Her thighs relaxed against his ears just enough that he could hear her breathing, but when he sucked harder on her clit, her climax rolled into another one, and her back bowed on the bed as she pushed her tits up to the ceiling.

Those fingers in his hair tightened and thank fuck, he didn't have hereditary baldness to worry about. He and his brothers would all just go gray. The woman had a grip on him like she was hanging on for dear life.

When the thighs squeezing his head began to shake and her body finally slumped back to the mattress, he gave her a couple of final good, thorough licks. Then, slowly pulled out his fingers.

But there was no time to waste, and after wiping his face with his hand, he crawled up her body and easily slipped inside. "Eyes on me, gorgeous," he gritted, waiting for her to blink them open.

She did, batting thick, long lashes at him as if she was just waking up.

Then she did something he wasn't prepared for. She lifted her legs up, and up, and up, spreading them wide until her knees were basically by her shoulders and she was spread open for him so he could drive as deep as fucking possible into her.

His eyes flew open as he braced himself on his hands, hovering over her .

"You going to start moving or …" Her smile brought him back to reality—kind of—and with a growl, he started to move.

And holy fuck, could she take him deep. Every inch of his fucking cock was coated in her sweetness, was hugged by her velvet heat. She squeezed her muscles around him when he sunk into her all the way, and her eyes never left his.

It was probably the hottest fucking sex of his life. The way she took him so completely. The way she listened to him and kept her eyes on him. She was such a good girl, and yet she could be so beautifully bad.

"Are you going to come for me again, pretty girl?" he asked, his voice gravelly with the strain of not nutting immediately.

Her lips parted just barely. "Can I?"

He groaned. Fucking hell, she was perfect. Utter perfection.

"Oh, baby, you can come as many times as you want. And on my dick makes it all the better. I want to feel your tight little cunt squeeze my cock as we come together."

"I want that too."

"Yeah, you do."

He picked up speed and vigor, hammering into her hard enough their bodies began to make a rhythmic slap-slap sound. But he didn't fucking care. It was the soundtrack to this perfect fucking moment.

A moment he'd never forget.

"Wyatt … please … are you close?"

Groaning, he met her gaze, not having realized he'd closed his own eyes. "Yeah. Been holding out because I didn't want it to be over just yet."

"I can't hold on any—"

"Eyes on me."

She blinked open her eyes again as the orgasm claimed both of them at the same time. Her body went stiff beneath his, and his went rigid on top of hers as he held himself up over her on his hands. His arms began to tremble as the intense climax rocked through him, starting in his lower belly like a pleasurable heat and spreading outward, down into his balls and upward into his chest.

His cock pulsed against her squeezing walls, as she welcomed every drop of him into her slick channel. Her nails raked down his back at just the right intensity that the snap of pain bloomed almost immediately into a new kind of pleasure. His grunts and groans mixed with her whimpers and heavy breathing, the new track to their union now that the body slapping had ended.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, caught up in the throes of their releases, but it felt like it went on forever. Time stood still. His mind went blank. Nothing ached. Nothing hurt. The only things he could feel were the rolling, mounting pleasure within, and the woman around and beneath him.

After another ten seconds of every muscle in his body tight as a trip wire, the pleasure began to slowly, finally recede back into his center, like an outgoing tide. The echoes of sensation still lingered as he gently rolled off of Vica, slipping out of her.

A half-sob, half-chuckle escaped her throat as she tossed her arm over her face. "I need a minute. I have died."

This woman just kept inflating his ego. It was threatening to leave the atmosphere entirely.

Her breath was ragged, and her chest rose and fell rapidly, but it was the flush of pink from her rosy cheeks and all the way down to just below her breasts that he found incredibly beautiful. Rolling over to his side, he softly trailed his tongue from under the sexy curve of her left breast, up over her nipple, her chest, her neck, and finally to her jaw.

She trembled and gooseflesh broke out against his tongue as she peeled her arm away and opened one eyelid. "You have resurrected me. I am alive again."

"Alive and well?"

"Mm-hmm."

After another moment of simply lying there in post-coital bliss, they got up and used the washroom. "Stay in my bed tonight," he said as she exited the bathroom. "I already grabbed your toothbrush and stuff from the boys' bathroom."

There was that playful little smile again. "That did not sound like a question."

"Because it wasn't."

Her lips twitched as if she were trying to hide a smile.

He handed her the small bag of toiletries that Brooke and Justine put together for her and shooed her back into the bathroom before he climbed into bed. "I'll be waiting … wife. "

"You trying to make me orgasm just standing here?"

His eyes widened as he pulled the covers up to his waist. "Can you do that?"

"Call me your wife again and get all bossy, and we'll find out."

He was up out of bed, growling and backing her up into the bathroom before she could even take another breath.

Vica was asleep in his bed looking thoroughly fucked and as gorgeous as ever in the moonlight as Wyatt carefully slipped out from beneath the covers. He'd already stashed clothes downstairs so as to not wake her. Hopefully, he'd be back before she woke up anyway.

Bennett was waiting on Wyatt's front porch when he emerged, dressed in all black with a knit cap on his head, and a small flashlight.

"You look like you're going to rob a jewellery store," Bennett said, giving Wyatt a quick once over.

"And you look like you're auditioning for a rap music video." He wrinkled his nose at Bennett's black leather jacket, black sweatpants, white running shoes, and backward, black baseball cap .

Bennett scoffed. "When was the last time you watched a rap music video?"

"Too long. Change your shoes. They're hurting my eyes."

Bennett rolled his eyes but nodded, and Wyatt followed his brother back to his house. Bennett came out a moment later wearing dark-brown and dark-green hiking boots. "Better?"

"I guess."

A door to the right opened and closed, and a second later Clint came wandering over, also dressed in all black.

"You tattled on me to big brother?" Wyatt said with annoyance to Bennett.

"I'm also your big brother," Bennett sassed back. "And no. Clint's on board and coming too."

"Fine. Let's just fucking go though."

"I parked my truck on the other side of the gate," Clint said, so we don't wake anybody up. You also need me because I'm the only one with a lock picking kit and who knows how to use it."

Wyatt had to hand it to his oldest brother, that was good thinking. Wyatt hadn't thought of parking a truck on the other side of the gate or bringing a lock picking kit. Then again, he was currently without a vehicle, so …

They walked to the man door of the gate, Bennett punched the code, then they all piled into Clint's truck.

Wyatt brought up the list of people and addresses that Cash sent him earlier that day. It was more than he was expecting. However, there were a few that Wyatt would eliminate from suspicion immediately.

"Where to first?" Clint asked, reaching the main road and pausing so Wyatt could tell him whether to turn left or right.

"Right. We're going to Leon Gustafson's place first."

Bennett spun around in the front passenger seat. "Leon? Seriously? The man is as old as a redwood and as slow as a slug. He wouldn't run down or shoot at Vica, or you."

Wyatt exhaled through his nose. "I thought that too. And I still do. But maybe he's storing a car for someone? Maybe he's being blackmailed? I've already ruled out about eight people, but Leon's a guy I don't know as well as some of the other locals. Maybe he's got some skeletons in his closet."

Clint had already turned right, and they were slowly cruising down the dark, abandoned island road. "I'll support you regardless, but if Leon catches us this could hurt our chances of getting Bonn's land."

Wyatt smiled despite the turmoil in his gut. "Then he better not catch us."

"Guy has hearing aids. So if he's asleep, he probably won't hear us," Bennett added.

They reached Leon's place, choosing to park Clint's truck on the side of the road, and hoof it down the long driveway. The Quonset hut at the back of the property was a lightweight, prefabricated structure of corrugated, galvanized steel with a semi-circular cross-section. It looked like an airplane hangar in a lot of ways.

They were light on their feet, sticking to the grass so as to not stir up the gravel or have it crunch under their shoes. Their military background came in handy more than they thought it would living on the island.

Clint was in the front because, even though this was Wyatt's mission, Clint always assumed the leader role since he was the oldest brother and all that shit. Wyatt wasn't in the mood to argue so he just acquiesced and followed along. Admittedly, Clint was the planner of all of them anyway. He could see angles and obstacles in a situation before the rest of them. So it made good sense to let him take the helm of this mission.

They crept along the far side of the Quonset hut, as far away from Leon's house as they could in case the octogenarian had any motion sensor cameras, or lights, or anything.

Clint peered around the front end of the hut into the interior. Then hung his head back. "Light."

Wyatt passed the small flashlight up to his brother and Clint shone it into the hut .

"All clear," Clint said. "Nothing but a ride ‘em lawn mower, Leon's old Cadillac, and a bunch of crab traps. Thing's pretty empty, to be honest."

Wyatt stepped forward so he could see in as well, not that he didn't believe his brother, but he just needed his own visible proof. "Does it look like there's space where another vehicle could have parked recently?"

Clint shook his head, keeping his voice to a whisper. "Not really." He shone the light to the gravel floor of the hut. "You'd be able to tell if the gravel had been disturbed by the kicking up of rocks. And I don't see any of that. And we all know Leon drives his junky, old, red Toyota truck everywhere. That thing will outlive him. So, the gravel even under the Cadillac is undisturbed. Plus, there's not really room. It's that not that big of a hut."

"We need to keep moving," Bennett whispered.

They nodded in agreement and let Bennett lead the way back to the truck. Then they were on to the next house.

"The cod and halibut fisherman?" Bennett asked when Wyatt told Clint to drive to Dorian Jazz's place. "What does he have against you, or Vica?"

"It's not necessarily anything against us . It's what they're willing to do, and how much they're willing to compromise their morals and integrity for money," Wyatt said. "Wyndham Croft could have put out a freaking bounty on Vica's head and sent it out to islanders who might be struggling financially. And I happen to know that halibut fishing has been really bad this year. Cod, snapper, and other white fish are doing okay, but Dorian is really struggling to bring in the big halibut. So maybe he's got some debts he can't pay, and Wyndham came along with a solution to his problem."

"I feel like we're just throwing spaghetti at a wall at this point," Bennett said.

"Don't let Vica hear you talk about wasting spaghetti," Wyatt murmured.

Bennett and Clint both chuckled.

They reached Dorian Jazz's house, which didn't have as long of a driveway. It also had an even larger Quonset hut, which made sense considering Dorian had at least three boats .

But there was no gray sedan parked in there either.

"Another noodle falls to the ground," Clint said as they climbed back into the truck. "You're not planning to hit all the houses tonight, are you?"

"Over the next few nights, I will. You can come or not. But someone on this island has been provided with enough motivation to try to take out Vica—and they got desperate enough that they nearly killed my children too."

"Once we find out who it is, we're handing that information over to the cops though. Right?" Clint asked. "I'm not doing vigilante shit. This is as far as I go when I go rogue."

"Says the man who ran after Brooke and the woman who tried to kill her, and attacked the woman on the edge of a cliff." Bennett snorted.

"I've turned over a new leaf. A softer, gentler leaf. No more dangerous shit."

Wyatt rolled his eyes, and he was dead certain Bennett was doing the same.

They pulled up to the next house, which belonged to Bryce McLoughlin. He owned the other pub on the island—The Thatch Pub—and was also currently renting out one of his RVs to Justine who spent some nights there rather than with Bennett. They were doing a gradual move-in since things with them started fast and intense.

"Bryce?" Bennett asked, still a skeptic. "What the hell would he have to gain from taking out Vica?"

"I happen to know Bryce is going through a nasty divorce with Yulia, and maybe he needs the cash. Or wants money off the books that she can't come after." Wyatt opened up the back door. "Everybody has a skeleton. Let's go see if we can find Bryce's."

They weren't on the property long, or close enough to Bryce's garage, before the big, baritone bark of Scoundrel—Bryce's German Shephard—echoed through the night. All three of them paused mid-stride.

"Anybody know if Scoundrel is an outside dog?" Clint asked.

Wyatt shook his head. So did Bennett.

Oh, he was an outside dog, all right. The bark grew louder and closer, and a moment later, the shadow of an angry beast came barrelling toward them.

"Fucking hell," Bennett said, spinning around and hightailing it back to the truck.

Wyatt and Clint chased after him, but Bennett was a runner and was leagues ahead of them. He knew he just needed to outrun a brother, not necessarily the dog.

But a sudden yelp of pain from the dog halted the barking and they no longer feared for their lives. It was tough to see specifically what stopped the dog, until he started barking again. Only, he wasn't moving any closer. He just kept pacing back and forth, still barking, as if traipsing along an invisible line.

"I bet it's an underground fence," Clint said. "And Scoundrel's got a collar on that gives him a zap if he tries to go past it."

Ah, that made sense.

"We need to get those for the kids," Bennett joked as they all climbed into the truck again.

"So do we rule out Bryce, or …" Clint pushed the start button for the truck and pulled onto the road.

"I can always try to pay Bryce a visit during the day while he's home and snoop around," Bennett said. "We're on okay terms now. I mean yeah, he wasn't too pleased when we moved in and opened up a competing pub, but he's over it now."

"Is he though?" Wyatt questioned.

"Damn, you're getting suspicious," Clint joked. "Make me sound normal, and I'm the one who's obsessed with all the murder mystery shows."

"I want to circle back to what we're going to do if we find the car and/or the plates," Bennett said. "We'll take it to the cops. Right?"

Wyatt was quiet for a moment.

"Right?" Clint asked, throwing some serious big-brother authority into his tone.

"Dan and Duane can't be trusted. They didn't believe Vica from the get-go and still have it out for her."

"But Myla and Everett are—" Clint went to protest.

"Really green," Wyatt interjected. "And although I trust them, they have no sway or authority over the other two. They're rookies and, in my opinion, still have some growing up to do."

Clint nodded. "I agree with that assessment."

"So then who can we trust?"

"I might know someone," Clint murmured. "Let me make a call."

Bennett yawned. "I think I have one, maybe two, more places in me. Then I gotta head home. Justine's going to wonder why I'm dead on my feet on our morning run."

Wyatt told Clint where to go next.

"Shelley Diamond's house?" Bennett exclaimed. "Seriously? That woman lets mosquitos bite her because, ‘everybody needs to eat.' She wouldn't hurt Vica, or anybody else." He shook his head in the front seat. "Now you're fucking crazy and throwing every kind of pasta at the wall."

"I dunno," Clint hummed. "Shelley has a gambling addiction, maybe she's in too deep and in debt, or owes somebody more than her grocery store clerk job can pay."

Wyatt tapped his nose and pointed at Clint. "Exactly."

Bennett was still shaking his head. "You're fucking crazy."

"Crazy like a fox. Now, you're either coming with, or you're sitting here with your finger up your ass. Either way, I'm checking out her garage just like I'm checking out everyone else's." Wyatt climbed out of the cab of the truck and waited for his brothers.

Bennett joined them.

The meow of a cat made Wyatt pause, but the cat that wove its way around his ankles wasn't nearly as terrifying as Scoundrel and his bark of fury. Shelley Diamond was the descendant of island royalty. She inherited her mother's house, who had inherited it from her parents. The land was nothing particularly fancy, or anything Wyatt or his brothers would want, but it wasn't terrible either. Probably an acre, at least, with waterfront, and a small copse of fruit trees. Shelley moved to the island after her mother passed away, and Shelley divorced her husband. She had one daughter who lived in California, but had no desire to continue with the family tradition and move to the island when the land became hers.

The rumor was that Shelley had gotten big into online poker and other kinds of gambling during COVID-19, and she was struggling to give it up now that the world was slightly less on fire.

Unlike a few of the other houses they'd visited, Shelley just had a regular sized garage. It was detached from her A-frame house, but big enough for two vehicles. And it had windows.

The cat around Wyatt's ankles meowed again.

"Shh, kitty," he whispered. "Shoo."

"Window is too high," Clint said. "Here." He dropped to all fours and Wyatt carefully stepped onto his brother's back to peer through the high window into the dark garbage. Bennett handed him the flashlight.

"Just Shelley's little Mini Cooper. Right?" Bennett asked, his tone bored.

Wyatt shot his brother a look. "No. Look for yourself, smartass." He stepped down off Clint's back and Bennett took his place, shining the light into the garage.

Bennett gasped. "Is that—"

"The car that tried to run Vica off the road?" Wyatt asked. "It sure as fuck is."

"The Mini Cooper?" Clint asked, still on the ground.

"No. The gray sedan. Same license number as Vica memorized too."

Bennett hopped down and gripped Wyatt by the shoulder. "There has to be an explanation for this."

"Yeah, there is. Shelley's up to her fucking eyeballs in debt, and Wyndham Croft made her an offer she couldn't refuse." Rage lanced burning hot through Wyatt's body. His fingers bunched into tight fists at his sides, and it was all he could do not to run to Shelley's stupid, little A-frame house, kick in the door, and shake the woman in her bed. Was she also the one who ran them off the road? Who opened fire on Vica, him, and his children?

"Take some pictures," Clint said calmly. "Then in the morning, we'll figure out how to handle this. But there's nothing we can do about it tonight. Nothing legal anyway. As it is, we're fucking trespassing, and a judge is going to ask how we knew the car was here. They need probable cause for a search warrant."

"Would you just shut up with all your cop show shit," Wyatt snapped.

Bennett still had him by the shoulder. Like he knew that if he let go, Wyatt was going to book it for Shelley's front door. "I know you're angry. But you can't do anything stupid. Think of the boys. You're the only parent they have. We're not going to let this go. Now that we know where the car is, we're one step closer to freeing Vica of all of this."

Like a bull preparing to impale the stupid matador, Wyatt's nostrils flared with each forced exhale. "My kids were in the truck when we were hit and shot at," he gritted out.

"Yeah, and so was my brother," Bennett said solemnly, which was exactly what Wyatt needed to snap him out of his rage fugue. He blinked at Bennett.

The sincerity in Bennett's eyes, and Clint's, when Wyatt glanced down at them, hit Wyatt hard in the solar plexus.

"We'll get her—or whoever it was. I promise," Clint said. "Now, get back up here and take some pictures. I'm pretty sure we're near an ant's nest because like twenty have crawled across my hands."

"Right. Sorry." Wyatt climbed back up and with the small flashlight in his mouth, shining into the garage, he snapped photos of the gray sedan. The front end didn't seem like it'd recently been in an accident though. However, Shelley's Mini Cooper was also absent. And going at a fast enough speed, it could have shoved the truck off the road.

"You done yet?" Clint asked.

Wyatt climbed off his brother's back, then helped Clint to his feet. "Thank you."

"Let's get home before we get caught." Bennett slapped Wyatt on the back and made sure he kept a hand on him until they were off Shelley's property.

"Text those photos to me, please," Clint said once they were driving back toward the property.

"Me too," Bennett added. "The more of us that have them the better. Just in case your phone dies, breaks, or gets lost, or something."

Wyatt did it straight away. He should feel relieved that they actually found the car, but he wasn't. Because it didn't make sense.

Yes, Shelley Diamond had a gambling problem, but she was also a sweet woman who lived a very quiet and peaceful life. Bennett was right, she wouldn't hurt a fly. Something wasn't adding up.

They reached the security gate, and Clint unrolled his window to punch in the code and drive through. The first glimmers of morning were starting to show, but it was still early enough that nobody in Wyatt's house should be awake.

"Thanks for coming with me," Wyatt said after they all climbed out of Clint's truck.

His brothers nodded. "Just don't do anything stupid," Bennett said. He yawned. "Shit. I've gotta be up in twenty minutes for a run."

"I'm going back to bed," Clint said, shaking his head.

Wyatt knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Not after finding the gray sedan. Even though he wanted nothing more than to curl his body around Vica's and forget anything bad in the world even existed, he knew he wouldn't be able to.

He said goodbye to his brothers and entered the house, and at first it seemed like everything was quiet and three of his favorite people were still asleep. But when he really focused, he heard murmurs upstairs, and they were coming from his bedroom.