Thrill Me to Death

  Cori dug her fingers into the silken bedspread. “I’m not moving. Shoot me if you have to.”

  “Trust me, even if your blood splatters all over this boat, we have a back-up plan. Swen can get this thing repainted and renumbered and your boat will be considered stolen property. And as soon as I’ve handled the grief and loss of my husband and the disappearance of my best friend, I’ll join my lover and drink martinis to your memory. I’m not going to get caught. And you’re not getting off this boat alive.”

  What was her best chance at escape? Fighting Breezy for the gun, or following her into the salon and faking that she was drinking something? What would Breezy expect her to do?

  “Fine,” Cori said, sliding to the edge of the bed. “I can’t fight you on this.”

  “You can, but you won’t.”

  And that’s where Breezy was wrong. With the gun jammed into her back, Cori proceeded into the dim salon. On the table close to the galley was the gold palm tree, open in two pieces. A poison cup, not a lover’s trinket. Her gaze darted around the room. The glass door to the darkened deck was closed, and the window treatments were pulled tight so no one could see in.

  “Here’s your drink, darling.” Breezy stepped in front of Cori, blocking her from completely entering the salon. She reached for a cobalt blue water glass on the galley counter and lifted it. “To best friends.”

  Pushing the drink into Cori’s hand, she backed away and aimed the gun at Cori’s heart. “Your choice, babe. Nice and neat, or a filthy mess. I couldn’t care less which way you go.”

  Slowly, Cori lifted the glass to her mouth. “I’m so sorry you’re doing this, Breezy. After all we’ve been through.”

  “You have no idea what I’ve been through.” She tapped the glass with her gun as the boat motors died. “Drink. We must be over deep water now.”

  Cori opened her mouth, put the drink to her lips and took a long, hard pull, lifting her tongue and letting her throat move.

  Breezy lowered the gun slowly, disbelief on her face. “You’re such a coward. I thought you’d at least put up a fight.”

  Cori spat the foul-tasting liquid directly into Breezy’s eyes. Swearing, Breezy jerked her hand up to her face and Cori dove, her weight knocking Breezy backward and sending the gun across the polished teak floor, landing in the fringe of the oriental carpet.

  “Swe—” Cori clamped her hand over Breezy’s mouth and jammed her knee into her ribs. Breezy grunted and sank her teeth into Cori’s palm, flailing wildly but unable to shake Cori off.

  She had only seconds until Swen threw open that salon door and killed her. Seconds to get to a gun that lay ten feet away.

  Breezy kicked Cori’s shin with a pointed shoe, shooting pain up her leg, but Cori held her hand tight over Breezy’s mouth, despite the agony of the teeth in her palm.

  Breezy mumbled and screamed into Cori’s hand, then jerked so hard, she nearly rolled Cori. But Cori held firm, pushing them farther into the salon.

  She glanced at the door, and Breezy managed to get a hand free and yank Cori’s hair to the roots, sending white stars through her head. They rolled again and Cori came out on top, with Breezy lying over her own free hand. Cori pinned her other hand down with a knee, still keeping one hand over Breezy’s mouth. She was still miles away from the gun.

  But the end table was only inches from her eyes, and she smelled the poison in the secret cup.

  Breezy bucked again, but Cori held her mouth firmly with her right hand and pinned her skinny hips to the floor with her knees. Keeping Breezy’s face pushed to the side so she couldn’t see, Cori licked her free hand, then reached toward the small golden bowl. She swept her wet fingers over it, hoping to pick up a lethal dose.

  Once again Breezy thrust her body up, but she was too thin and small to be effective. Cori leaned back, letting Breezy up into a half-sitting position.

  “Do you promise not to scream?” she asked Breezy, still covering her mouth.

  Green eyes flashed in fury and panic.

  “Do you?” Cori rasped. “I’ll let you free if you promise not to scream.”

  Breezy’s eyes softened but Cori didn’t let go.

  “So we can talk.”

  Breezy nodded.

  “We really need to talk.” Cori forced her voice to be gentle, even weak. “This is crazy, Breezy. We’re best friends. We can figure this out.”

  Breezy’s eyes darted over Cori’s face, trying to psyche out the bluff.

  “I promise to listen to you if you’ll listen to me, okay?” Cori braced her other arm, ready. “So I’m going to take my hand off your mouth and you’re not going to scream for Swen. We can work this out. Between us, Breeze, we’ve got a shitload of money.”

  She felt Breezy almost surrender.

  “Billions. And no husbands. Just us. We can travel the world together, have everything we want. Anyone we want.”

  Breezy’s eyes flickered.

  “I’ll cover for you, Breeze.” Cori slowly lifted the fingers covered with poison. “You’re my best friend.”

  She loosened her grip on Breezy’s mouth as she brought her other hand up, holding her friend’s gaze. “We’re best friends,” she said again. “Right?”

  Breezy nodded twice.

  “Okay, then. Let’s talk.” She took her right hand away and Breezy instantly opened her mouth wide. Before she could take a breath and scream, Cori shoved the poison-covered fingers deep into Breezy’s mouth and scraped the flakes onto her tongue and against her teeth.

  Breezy started to spit, and managed to get her hands around Cori’s throat as Cori held her mouth shut. She squeezed, stabbing her thumb into the middle, closing the esophagus. Cori tried to pry Breezy’s fingers away, but her one hand couldn’t do it. If she used both hands, Breezy would spit the poison right back at her.

  Breezy pressed with all her strength, cutting off Cori’s air completely. She tried to suck in a breath, but she couldn’t. Still, she forced Breezy’s mouth closed, determined to get the poison in her. Breezy squeezed harder and spots of light flashed in Cori’s eyes. Her head got heavy. Her lungs felt so full they had to burst. Her ears rang and her muscles spasmed.

  She jammed her hand over Breezy’s mouth, but blackness danced in her peripheral vision. The pinpoints of light started to fade.

  Oh, God, she was dying.

  She couldn’t hold on. She started to collapse as the salon door was smashed in with a deadly whack and a gunshot reverberated through the salon.

  The bullet hit Breezy in the chest, but she didn’t let go of Cori until bright red blood oozed over her blouse. As she did, her eyes delivered one last message.

  I hate you, Cori Peyton.

  Cori rolled off, and Max caught her before she hit the floor.

  Chapter

  Twenty-five

  C ori gasped for air, sucking in deep breaths as her head lolled from near unconsciousness. Max turned her on her back, opening her mouth for her. She was breathing, but he tilted her head to open her bruised airway. Cooing to her, whispering her name, he watched the color slowly come back to her face and lips, and her eyes flutter open.

  “She killed William,” she rasped.

  He nodded. “She had help. He’s on the deck, lucky to be alive.”

  “I tried to poison her,” she managed to say, lifting her hand and showing him the flakes of black dust on her palm. “I almost did.”

  “How?”

  She gave him a humorless smile. “I bluffed.”

  He squeezed her into his chest again. “Good work, kid.”

  “What about Giff?”

  “He’s on his boat, waiting for my signal to come closer. I got to him before he shot himself.” He smoothed her hair. “William didn’t cheat on you. He loved you.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “And I love you, too.”

  She tried to smile. “I know.”

  A thud on the deck separated them. Max shot to his feet, blocking Cori and aiming th
e Ruger.

  “Breezy?”

  “It’s Giff,” Cori said. “Don’t let him see her like this!”

  But it was too late. Jones threw himself into the salon, and stared at the lifeless body of his wife. “Breezy!” he moaned, dropping onto her.

  He scooped up Breezy and cradled her, tears streaming down his face. He murmured her name, rocking his wife slowly.

  “Giff, I’m so sorry,” Cori said, reaching to him.

  He looked up from Breezy’s body, his eyes cold.

  “Come on,” Max said, taking Cori’s hand and pulling her up. “Let’s call for backup.”

  On the deck she glanced at Swen, slumped on a leather seat. “So much betrayal. So much deceit.” She shook her head, then took a deep breath, facing the soft breeze on the bay. “I guess I was blind about the people around me, after all. I had no idea she hated me.”

  Max stood behind her, and folded her in his arms, pulling her into him. “She was a consummate actress, Cori.”

  “And I was her biggest fan.”

  He dropped a kiss on her head, closing his eyes as relief and adrenaline and love washed through him. “I’m just glad you’re safe. If anything had happened to you…”

  She turned, looking up at him with that familiar fire lighting her eyes. “Max.”

  He smiled. He recognized that tone, knew what was coming next. “Yeah?”

  She smiled and stood on her toes, and he reached down and kissed her.

  “I love you,” they said at the same time.

  “Well, I loved my wife.” The hatred in that voice yanked them apart, and they spun around just as Jones bounded through the doors, Breezy’s blood all over him and her gun aimed directly at Max. “You killed her!”

  Max stepped away to get Giff’s shaky aim away from Cori, and Jones followed him with a jerky move of the little revolver.

  Max lifted both hands to show Giff he was unarmed. “She killed William, and tried to kill Cori. She was poisoning you, too, Jones.”

  “You know, I had nothing to live for when you found me a few hours ago.” The hand holding the revolver trembled, and Max knew when a man was about to shoot. “And I still have nothing to live for. So you’re first.” He looked at Cori. “She’s second. And I’m third.”

  He lifted the gun, straightened his arm, and gritted his teeth.

  Max shoved Cori away and reached for his gun. Cori pushed him as well, sending them in opposite directions. Jones fired into empty air, and before the echo died, Max had tackled Jones’s legs and pulled him down.

  Cori tore the revolver from his hands while Max contained him with one hand, his Ruger jammed into Jones’s neck.

  In the distance a motorboat growled toward them, the lights of a Coast Guard cutter slicing through the blackness. As the spotlight shone on their faces, Max looked at Cori, who kneeled in front of him holding the revolver. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, matching Max’s.

  “I know.” she said softly. “That was just like my father.”

  “Better, actually. You managed to stay out of the line of fire.”

  Cori gave him a bittersweet smile. “I wasn’t trying to be a hero.”

  “Neither was he,” Max said. “But he was.”

  “You can do this, Billy. You’re stronger than your addictions.”

  Cori’s stepson shoved a silky blond strand out of his face, just enough to shoot her a lethal look but not lose control of the Gallardo. “Don’t talk like a freakin’ shrink, Cor. Nothing’s stronger than my addictions.”

  They’d made some progress in the past few weeks. He’d dropped the lawsuit, and she’d given him a chance to run the day-to-day operations of the Foundation. But they were still a long way from affection.

  She knew it would have made William happy to know she was trying though—that they both were. Billy had promised to get clean and sober, and Cori would do everything possible to help.

  “So where’s your bodyguard these days?”

  “He took Swen Raynor to Helsinki to handle some legal issues there, before standing trial here. When he’s done with that, we’re going to meet in California for a while.”

  Billy shot her a quick look. “You two are good together.”

  “I’ll always miss your father, Billy. He was a really, really good man. No matter who I spend my life with, I will always love your father.”

  He tried for a casual shrug. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  For the rest of the trip to the Kendall-Tamiami Executive Airport, they talked about the Foundation and the work she’d given him to handle from Miami. Billy might never realize his father’s dream of running Peyton Enterprises, but at least he could have a purpose there. Time would tell.

  The Peyton jet waited with the engines whistling, the door open, and the steps down.

  “Thanks, Billy,” she said as he parked. “I’ll call you this week.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  The pilot took her bags toward the taxiway, giving her details about weather, arrival time, and the menu.

  She was nearly at the top of the stairs when the sound of another plane arriving grabbed her attention. It was an unmarked Gulfstream screaming in too fast, and Cori froze to watch it make a spectacular but dangerous landing, then taxi to fifty feet from where she stood.

  The door popped open and a man with long black hair lowered the stairs and stared across the space that separated them. He tapped his forehead in a salute and called back into the plane, “I told you we’d make it.”

  He trotted down the steps and crossed the taxiway, a stunning, muscular man with a silky black mane that whipped in the wind and ebony eyes. She went down the steps to meet him.

  “I’m Alex Romero, with the Bullet Catchers.” He held his hand out, and Cori hoped she shook it—she couldn’t process more than his spectacular good looks. Didn’t Lucy Sharpe hire anyone who wasn’t breathtaking?

  “Am I supposed to have a bodyguard on this trip?” she asked.

  “No. But my wife and I were returning home from Finland, and I got stuck with a hitchhiker.”

  Her heart tumbled, and she looked over Alex’s impressive shoulder to see a woman with spiky red hair climbing out of the jet, and behind her…the most gorgeous sight of all.

  Max shot a menacing look at Alex as he ambled down the steps. “Bad enough you almost got us killed on the landing, Romero. Would you please get away from my woman?”

  Alex’s grin was high voltage and just as deadly. “Congratulations, Cori. I believe you are the one to have melted the abominable snowman.”

  She laughed. “He melted me.”

  Max was headed straight for her, arms open, smile beaming, and she flew into his embrace.

  “I thought you couldn’t get back for a few more days!” she exclaimed as he twirled her.

  He pulled back, gazing at her with a tease in his eyes. “I just spent ten hours on a plane with Alex Romero. If that doesn’t prove I love you, nothing does.”

  Alex had headed back to his plane where the red-haired woman stood, looking at Alex with the same tender expression he gave her.

  Max quickly introduced Cori to Jazz Adams, Alex’s wife, then grabbed his bag, said good-bye, and guided Cori into the Peyton plane.

  As she sat on the long sofa in the back, he stuck his head into the cockpit to talk to the pilots, most definitely requesting privacy in the cabin. Cori shivered with anticipation.

  “If you’re tired,” she teased when he joined her, “you can sleep all the way to California.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out a deck of cards, and dropped them on her lap. “Yeah, right.”

  They buckled their seat belts as the engines whined. They kissed during takeoff, and cuddled all the way to cruising altitude. By the time they were above the clouds, Cori was all but begging Max to unbutton her blouse.

  He stopped the foreplay and picked up the cards.

  “All right,” he said, opening the deck and clearing some space between them on the
leather sofa. “Let’s play.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Though I think it’s pretty obvious I’m willing to lose the first hand.”

  “Oh, we’re not playing strip.”

  “Favors?”

  He grinned. “Are you that desperate to get me naked and take liberties with me?”

  “Yes.”

  That made him laugh. “I have a better game in mind.”

  “Answers?” What could he want to know that he didn’t?

  “Promises,” he said, splitting the deck.

  “That’s a new one.” She tucked her legs up and tapped the deck when he offered the cut. “When you win, do you elicit a promise from the other person?”

  “No.” He dealt, looking at her with eyes the color of sweet maple syrup. “You make one.”

  She smiled. “Really.”

  “Really. How’s your hand?”

  She had a pair of jacks, a four, a five, and a two. “Deuces wild?”

  “If you have one, and want them to be.” He looked at her. “And from the expression on your face, I’d say you have at least one and a few royals to boot.”

  She laughed. “How do you do that?” She took two cards, getting another jack and using everything she had to remain expressionless.

  “Oh, boy,” he said. “That’s the face of a winning hand.”

  “Max!”

  “All right, all right.” He turned his cards over and folded. “Now you make me a promise. But be warned, I’ll hold you to it.”

  Oh, the things she could promise. “I promise…to make love to you tonight.”

  He barely nodded. “Your deal.”

  She won again. He patiently waited while she bit her lip and tried to come up with something clever. “I promise…to take a bath with you when we get home.”

  He gave her a dubious look. “You’re mind is really on sex, kid.”

  She reached over and squeezed his thigh. “Hey, I haven’t seen you for a few days.”

  When he dealt again she couldn’t read his reaction, of course. She had a lousy hand and her draw cards didn’t help, so she folded and waited.