Rourke (Steele Protectors 4) Read online

  “That’s good to know,” she said noncommittally. “Now, I think I’d better get dressed if we’re landing soon.” She breathed a sigh of relief when Rourke left the bedroom without pushing her for any more answers.

  Mainly because she didn’t have any.

  Making love to Rourke had been an experience Sophie knew she would cherish and a memory she would keep. Always.

  She even managed to smile at Candice when she refused the sandwiches the other woman had prepared for her to take with her. She also felt less uncomfortable this time when Gregori Markovic came out of the cockpit to shake their hands and wish them a pleasant stay in the Caymans. Yes, the watchful bodyguards said he was still the head of the London bratva, but for the moment, he was also the man who had generously offered his jet and his time to fly them safely to these sun-drenched islands so that Sophie might find her father. No doubt he would conduct some business while he was here, as he said he would, but he had timed his visit around what she and Rourke needed.

  He smiled at her. “I, my plane, and crew will be staying on the island overnight and leaving at eight o’clock in the morning, if you should decide to make the return journey with us.”

  “I appreciate the kindness of your offer,” she returned politely, having no idea how long this visit to the Caymans was going to take.

  He turned to Rourke. “Give me a call if you need a ride home tomorrow.” A silent message seemed to pass visually between the two men.

  Rourke nodded. “I’ll do that.” He warmly shook the other man’s hand.

  After the pleasant temperature inside the jet, the heat outside hit Sophie the moment she walked down the steps to the tarmac. It wasn’t oppressively hot, but definitely more so than the mild English summer she had left earlier today.

  Because she’d been asleep and then showering and dressing, Sophie had missed any sightings of the islands as they came in to land. But within a few minutes of being driven by cab to their hotel—driving on the left-hand side of the road, as it was in England—she was looking at palm trees along white sandy beaches and a turquoise sea that was as clear as glass.

  “The beaches and places for snorkeling here are spectacular,” Rourke supplied beside her. “I could teach you if you’ve never done it before.”

  There were a lot of things Sophie had never done before that Rourke could teach her, and snorkeling was only one of them!

  “Thanks,” she accepted noncommittally, surprised when, just a few minutes later, the cab turned off the palm-fringed road to park in what was obviously the forecourt of a hotel.

  “Grand Cayman is approximately twenty-two miles long and four miles wide,” Rourke supplied dryly as he got out of the car. “If you’re feeling energetic, everything is within walking distance.”

  Sophie stared up at what a plaque on the wall outside said was a five-star hotel, while Rourke paid the cab driver and a porter efficiently took their luggage from the trunk of the car into the hotel.

  The hotel had been built in a curved shape and was at least ten stories high. The fronds of the palm trees in the garden swayed gently in the breeze. There was a pool at the front of the hotel too, and then behind that, another of those beautiful white sandy beaches so abundant on the island. There were maybe two dozen people on the beach, either swimming or sunbathing on comfortable loungers, while attentive waiters or waitresses brought drinks or food to them from the bar situated at the edge of the hotel pool.

  Sophie’s surroundings only added to how surreal this trip already felt, after flying here on a privately owned jet.

  Rourke took it all in his stride, he and the rest of his family obviously used to traveling on and staying in first-class accommodations.

  If Sophie had thought the outside of the hotel was impressive, then the inside was even more so.

  Vaulted ceilings. Venetian glass chandeliers. Cream marble floors and ceilings. Original works of art on the cream-silk-papered walls. There were also several beautiful life-size sculptures of half-naked men and women.

  Sophie felt slightly numbed by the elegant opulence as she stood to one side and waited the few minutes for Rourke to book in and be given the keycard to their room. The luggage was already on its way up, apparently. He took her arm as the two of them stepped inside the glass lift, allowing them an unrestricted view of the beach and sea as the lift traveled up the front of the building.

  She swallowed hard. “Is my father staying at this hotel too?”

  Rourke was more than a little concerned by Sophie’s near silence since they had left the airport, and he didn’t think it was due solely to the spectacular views.

  The mention of her father explained some of her preoccupation. Neither of them was completely sure what going to happen once they found Stephen Hammond.

  Although, with the information Haydn had found, Rourke had a pretty good idea. “He is, yes,” he confirmed. He had thought it best if they stayed at the same hotel as Sophie’s father. That way, there was less chance of the management asking them to leave the premises if a scene should ensue once they met up with Hammond.

  Sophie swallowed before speaking. “So while I’ve been in England for the past week, fighting off threats and attacks from men who are nothing more than common criminals because my father stole from them, he’s been here, staying in a five-star hotel and living the high life?”

  “Pretty much, yes.” There was no point in Rourke trying to sugarcoat what he knew to be the truth.

  If Hammond felt any remorse over the danger he had left his daughter in, then it wasn’t apparent from his days spent lounging on beaches and his evenings wining and dining his female companion, either at the hotel or one of the other numerous excellent restaurants on the island.

  Sophie straightened. “Then let’s hope he hasn’t spent too much of the five million pounds he embezzled, because he’s going to pay it all back. Every penny. I don’t care how, but he is!” Her eyes glittered with angry determination.

  Rourke was more than willing to make up any shortfall as long as it meant Sophie was no longer in danger.

  Chapter Ten

  If Sophie had thought the foyer of the hotel was overwhelming, then the suite Rourke’s keycard opened the door to was even more so. The lounge area alone was immense, with white leather couches and lush carpets, ornate white Regency furniture, and a fresco-painted ceiling edged with gold leaf. There was a fruit basket on the low glass coffee table, along with a bottle of champagne on ice and two glass flutes.

  Several doors led off the main room to what looked to be bedrooms and en suite bathrooms. There was even a bar, full kitchen area, and dining room.

  Rourke gave a grimace when he saw her wide-eyed expression. “The penthouse suite was all that was available at such short notice.”

  She shrugged. “At least it isn’t the honeymoon suite.”

  “It was already booked.” He grinned. “Maybe Logan and August are staying there?”

  “Lord, I hope not.” The couple had been closemouthed about their honeymoon destination. “Can you imagine how awkward that would be?”

  Rourke chuckled. “Logan doesn’t like hotels, and I’m pretty sure, wherever they are, it’s somewhere he and August don’t have to wear any clothes for two weeks.”

  Sophie hoped he was right. There would already be speculation in the Steele family about Rourke and Sophie having left the wedding together without adding to that curiosity by Logan reporting he had seen Sophie and Rourke together in the Caribbean.

  Rourke picked up their bags from where the porter had left them inside the entrance hall. “So, do you want a sea view or one of the extensive gardens at the back of the hotel?”

  “Sea, please.” Sophie trailed unenthusiastically behind him down the hallway.

  This really was a dream destination for lovers: beautiful unspoiled beaches, a wonderfully clear blue sea, fantastic weather, gorgeous hotels and restaurants, and the people they had met so far were friendly and welcoming.

  Acc
ompanied by Rourke, it should have been perfect.

  Instead, Sophie felt as if she had a heavy and ominous weight pressing down on her shoulders. She knew that weight had a name too, and it was Stephen Hammond, her own father.

  “Here we go.” Rourke hoisted their two suitcases up onto the stand at the bottom of the king-size bed. “We can unpack now, or, as we’re six hours behind UK time and you haven’t eaten since breakfast on the plane all those hours ago, we could go in search of some lunch for you?”

  Sophie was a little concerned about the “we” in that statement, even more so when Rourke unzipped his bag before hanging up several items, one of them a suit, in the walk-in closet.

  Implying Rourke had assumed, after their intimacy and sharing a bed on the plane earlier, they were going to share a bedroom at this hotel too?

  How did Sophie feel about that?

  Ordinarily, if this had been the ideal holiday destination and she and Rourke really were lovers, she would have been ecstatic. Instead… “I would prefer to go and find my father.”

  Sophie was still having trouble acclimatizing to the fact her father had not only stolen millions of pounds from his employer but he had then fled the country, leaving the unsuspecting Sophie vulnerable to Tillman’s wrath. If her mother were still alive, Sophie knew she would be horrified that her husband’s actions had placed their daughter in danger.

  But perhaps if her mother were still alive, this wouldn’t have happened? Her mother had always been the strong partner in the marriage.

  Except her father had worked for Zachary Tillman for fifteen years, twelve of them before Sophie’s mother died. Had Brenda known her husband was laundering money for his employer?

  Only Sophie’s father could give her the answers to those questions. Answers Sophie wanted sooner rather than later.

  Rourke watched the emotions flickering across Sophie’s expressive face. He didn’t know exactly what her thoughts were, but he could guess. Her father was now within touching distance and Sophie wanted to reach out and touch him now.

  “You need to eat—”

  “As soon as I’ve changed into something cooler, what I need is to go downstairs, find my father, and put an end to the uncertainty of this situation,” Sophie bit out with determination.

  From what Haydn had managed to find out about Hammond’s routine for the past week, the older man and his female companion spent most days on the beach, sunning themselves and drinking cocktails. Rourke had every reason to believe that was where they would be today too.

  Sophie crossed the bedroom to pick up her shoulder bag. “I’ll take the bedroom next to this one.” She disappeared out the door.

  Leaving Rourke to wonder if the two of them were ever going to be on the same page in regard to their relationship.

  He had spent the past two years fighting against there being a relationship.

  Sophie had spent at least the same amount of time keeping him at a friendly arm’s length.

  But the whole myth of there only being friendship between them had exploded into the atmosphere the moment Rourke saw another man’s hands on Sophie.

  The past forty-eight hours since then had been a roller coaster of emotions and physical pleasure, for both of them.

  As such, they were not taking even one step toward Sophie putting Rourke back into a box labelled “friend and work colleague,” and not necessarily in that order.

  He picked up his own bag and strode out of the room and into the bedroom next door. Sophie gave a startled squeak as he crossed the room and threw his bag on the stand next to hers before turning to face her. Which was when he realized the reason for her squeak hadn’t been because he’d entered the bedroom, but because she was in the process of changing her clothes.

  She’d already removed the fitted jeans to reveal white lace panties that cupped her mound, and she was holding her T-shirt up in front of her to partially conceal breasts lovingly presenting her rose-colored nipples in a matching white lace bra.

  Rourke’s cock engorged so quickly, he felt slightly light-headed from the rush of blood going south. “I’m not letting you out of my sight while we’re here,” he bit out. “I warned you, where you go, I’m going too. Which also means we’re sleeping in the same bed in the same bedroom tonight,” he announced, arms folded across his chest in challenge.

  A frown appeared between her eyes. “I don’t understand…”

  “I thought I was pretty succinct earlier, but let me make it clearer still.” He crossed the bedroom to stand in front of her, holding her gaze as he gently removed the T-shirt from her slowly unclenching fingers.

  Her chin rose defensively once she stood in front of him wearing only those delicate lace panties and bra.

  “I’m not one of the boys you’re used to going out with, Sophie. I’m a man, and I don’t play games.” Rourke spoke softly in the hope of his statement sounding less aggressive than the tension he was feeling. “Our relationship has moved to a different level over the past couple of days, and I’m damned if I’m taking a step back by having the two of us sleeping in separate bedrooms. You might as well know now, I also have every intention of fucking you into the mattress tonight and then rolling you over and starting again.”

  A blush crept up into Sophie’s cheeks, and she stared at him for several long seconds. She licked her lips before replying. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she confirmed.

  Rourke eyed her warily. “Where did the argumentative Sophie go that I’ve grown so used to?”

  Grown so used to and love. Sophie finished the saying in her head, but knew love wasn’t something Rourke did. That being the case, she would take what she could get. Which was, apparently, having Rourke pound her into the mattress all night long. Sleep was overrated anyway.

  “She’s gone on holiday.” Sophie lifted her arms and curved them about his neck. “Could I have a small taster now to see me through until tonight?”

  Rourke growled. “You can have the whole fucking meal.” His arms moved about her waist, and he slowly lifted her until her lips were level with his. “I want you now too, Sophie.” He pressed his denim-covered cock against her lace-covered mound. “Can I have you?”

  Her gaze steadily met his. “Yes. But…” Her teasing tone resulted in another scowl marring Rourke’s brow. “That doesn’t mean I’m not expecting you to fuck me into the mattress all night too.” She grinned at him.

  Rourke threw back his head and laughed. “I seem to have released a monster!”

  Sophie lifted her legs and wound them about his waist, murmuring her encouragement as his hands moved down to cup beneath the cheeks of her bottom. “Take me to bed, Rourke,” she encouraged huskily.

  “And your father?”

  She grimaced. “I doubt he’s going anywhere for a couple of hours, so the situation with him can wait.” She completely dismissed her earlier urgency. This, being with Rourke, was so much more important.

  “A couple of hours?” Rourke echoed gruffly as he kissed his way down the creamy length of her throat. “I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

  She chuckled. “I have every confidence in you, and rumor has it, you’re more than up to the task,” she added dryly.

  His brows were raised when he lifted his head to look at her. “Rumor?”

  She eyed him quizzically. “Several of your discarded women came to Steele Protectors during the first year I worked for you. All with the obvious intention of trying to persuade you into seeing them again.” She shrugged. “A couple of them, before one of your brothers politely asked them to leave, also happened to mention that you were their best lover ever.”

  Rourke scowled his displeasure. He hadn’t known about those women’s visits to the Steele Protectors offices, let alone their comments. No wonder Sophie had kept him at a distance for so long.

  “I deeply regret you had to hear any of that. It hasn’t happened recently though, has it?” He didn’t see how it could
have after his two years of celibacy.

  She gave the question some thought. “Not for a couple of years, no.”

  He nodded his satisfaction. “I hate clinging women—I wasn’t referring to you!” he protested, his hands tightening on her bottom as she began to unwind her legs from about his waist. “You’re the least clingy woman I’ve ever met.” He continued to frown. “In fact, a little more clinging on your part would do wonders for my ego.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Your ego doesn’t need any stroking!”

  Rourke decided not to take offense at the accusation. Only time and a lot of lovemaking on his part would convince Sophie of the seriousness of his intentions.

  Instead, he carried her over to the bed and laid her carefully on top of the covers before kneeling between her parted thighs. He leaned forward, his cock perfectly aligned with the crease of her mound he could see against her panties as he used the strength of his arms to hold his torso from crushing down on her. “You’re beautiful, Sophie.” His voice was husky. “Absolutely beautiful, both inside and out.” He held her gaze as he lowered his head, lids closing when his lips claimed hers.

  Rourke rolled until he was lying beside her, one of his hands entangled in the thickness of her hair as he took his time exploring and claiming every hot and sensual inch of Sophie’s mouth. She tasted amazing. The toothpaste from the bathroom on the plane barely disguised the natural sweet elixir Rourke had realized these past few days was purely Sophie.

  An elixir he was fast becoming addicted to.

  In between their heated kisses, Rourke removed her bra and panties so that his hands and lips could explore every inch of her silken flesh, from her throat to her invitingly parted thighs. His cock swelled and throbbed with each taste of that delicious flesh.

  Which was when Rourke realized he was wearing far too many clothes and his jeans were about to cut off the blood supply to his still-expanding cock.