Page 62 of The Bad Girl
Lady Elaine is well into a margarita when I sit beside her.
“Damn that Johnson,” she says with a sneer.
I smile at her but dare not say a word.
“It’s not like I have anything better to do. It’s just he wouldn’t let me take Mike T. down into the cabin with me,” she says with a waggle of her brow.
“Excuse me?” I say, trying now to let my voice betray my shock.
“You think that just because I’m old that I don’t have wants and needs? If anything, I make sure to indulge myself more. You never know when some nut job is going to simply end it all!” she says, lifting her drink to Johnson.
I gaze out at the water, beautiful and calm despite the turmoil aboard the boat. It’s late, almost dark, but without my phone, I have no way of knowing what time it is. The nap, which was fueled by a mixture of dissipating fight or flight hormone and the lovemaking, only furthers my confusion.
Maxwell takes a seat next to me, his gaze never straying from the gun in Johnson’s hand.
Johnson stands, pacing the deck.
“So, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to eat. No one’s going to get hangry on my watch. Then you’re going back below deck.”
“When are we going home?” Maxwell snaps.
“When I say so. I’m takin’ good care of ya, so don’t worry.”
“Has Mike been given food or anything to drink?” Maxwell nods over to his bodyguard.
“He’s been fed and watered, allowed to use the bathroom, but I’m not letting him out of those ropes again. Not with his training.”
Maxwell keeps a protective hand on my thigh, refusing to take his eyes off Johnson, who looks rattled despite trying to present a calm appearance.
Lady Elaine leans over me and not so quietly whispers to Maxwell, “If only you’d brought that chap. The one Johnson likes.”
In any other situation, I would be laughing, but seeing the rage flash across Johnson’s eyes when he overhears Lady Elaine’s remark has me afraid.
“Excuse me? I don’t give a fuck about his friend!” Johnson shouts. “Hey, you.” He gestures to the bartender. “Put on something sexy.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sean Paul blares from the speakers, and Johnson stars pivoting embarrassingly one his toes, dancing, gun in hand.
“You.” He gestures with the gun to Eliza.
“Excuse me,” Maxwell stands, inserting himself between Johnson and the pretty redhead, “be careful where you point that thing.”
Johnson strikes Maxwell across the face with the butt of the gun, then points it at him. “Anybody moves, he gets it.”
I close my eyes, fighting back tears. Maxwell is my boss, my friend, and now my lover, and right now, the feelings I have for him are so strong, I don’t think I can handle losing him. What we have may be fleeting, but it’s very real.
And stronger than I thought possible.
Everyone waits in silence, wondering what’s going to happen next, when Johnson says, “You,” pointing again to Eliza. “I wanna dance.”
Eliza gets up, gyrating her hips to the Sean Paul song, and I have to hand it to her, she’s keeping it together better than I am.
“Are you okay?” I mouth to Maxwell.
He’s frowning, staring carefully at Johnson as he’s swinging his hips to the beat, gun in hand.
“He’s not proving anything to anybody,” Lady Eliza says under her breath, and I’m thankful the music drowns out her voice.
