Melody's POV

“Fuck it all to hell,” he said, pulling back his wounded limb.
He must have left his guardian angel at home.
“Jinx, head in, we’ll meet you onshore. We’re fine . . . for the most part,” I said before hanging up and grabbing his arm.
He pulled away. “I’m fine, just wish I didn’t kill the fucker so I could torture him.”
“You have a bullet in your arm.” I glared at him. “A Russian bullet, which you, yourself said was shit. I am going to take it out.”
“I said I was fucking fine, Melody!”
Angry, I holstered my weapon before I shot him in the other arm, and grabbed on to his wounded arm again, causing him to hiss out in pain.
“You are not fine.” I pressed down harder. “Now stop bitching and let me fix it, you asshole.”
I didn’t allow him to speak before pulling him inside the cabin and pushing him onto the nearest bed. They must have been ready to eat because alcohol and an array of meat, bread, and apples awaited them.
Getting a napkin and a knife, I poured the alcohol over it and his wound before giving him the rest to drink. Hopefully, the liquor would keep him quiet.
He smirked at me before taking the bottle to his lips. “I think I like you as a nurse.”
Glaring at him, I dug the knife into his bullet wound. “You really shouldn’t say stupid things to a woman with weapons.”
He hissed and roared in pain like a fucking baby until I got the bullet out and used the napkin as a bandage.
“Drink and shut up, I’ll be right back,” I said to him before going back on deck.
I made sure to drag and throw the bodies off the boat before setting course back to the mainland. I also called Monte to let him and Liam’s brothers know what happened. It took me about an hour and a half. By the time I went back to Liam, he was frozen on the bed, listening to the audio from the plane he had destroyed.
All either of us could hear were screams, crying, and prayers. They brought back memories I would rather forget. Walking over, I pushed stop and he, was pulled out of his trance.
“I thought you were going to set the boat on autopilot,” he said, proving just how out of it he was.
Grabbing another napkin, I took the old blood-soaked one off and redid the bandage.
“Do not take a bullet for me again.”
He snorted before pulling away. “No good deed goes unpunished. The correct words you are looking for are ‘thank you.’ ” I pulled tighter, and he winced, the baby. “Thank you, but don’t do it again. The last thing I need is for any of my men to think I can’t handle myself.”
“You are so fucking ridiculous. Why must you always try to prove that you’re a cold-hearted bitch?”
“Because a cold-hearted bitch is what I need to be,” I snapped back, rising in front of him. “You can fuck up as many times you want, but at the end of the day, no one will doubt you. I, on the other hand, make one mistake and it’s over. Some cocky asshole like you will come over and claim I’m too soft, or that I don’t have the balls. I’ve worked too hard to backtrack now.”
He said nothing. He knew I was right. I didn’t have time to waste, proving and reproving who I was.
“And in a way, they would be right, because I should have blown that plane up myself,” I confessed, grabbing the wine from the table and leaning against it. “If I had, I would get the credit—” “You want credit?” He eyed me up and down, his green eyes picking up only the dimmest light of the cabin we now shared. “You want credit for the mass murder I committed.”
“Don’t say it like that. We are not serial killers. We do not kill for the fun of it or chaos. It is just business. Every last person we kill is for family. If we do not kill them, they kill us. It is the way of the world. It is self-defense. It is survival. If it were your life for theirs, they would kill you in a second to save themselves or their family. Everyone is ruthless. They just don’t know it. You do. I do. And that is why we are on top and will remain so.”
“And you feel nothing.”
“And I feel nothing,” I repeated.
He looked me in the eyes, and I hoped to God he understood, because I didn’t know how else to explain it. It was that kind of thinking that made it easy for me to sleep at night.
“Neither do I,” he said, and I believed him.
I tried to move, but he grabbed on to my sides and held me in place.
There was that look in his eyes—the hunger, the lust, and the caged animal dying to get out. Pulling me even closer, he pressed himself against me.
“L—” His lips were on mine and he was pulling at my clothes. With his one good arm, he cupped my ass and the other one cupped my breast as he rubbed himself against me. His lips hummed against my neck before he lifted me up, throwing me on the bed.
He stopped for only a second to look me over, and the storm in his eyes raged worse than I had ever seen. “This is your one and only chance to tell me to stop.”