After the martini flushed its warmth through me, I then briefly considered taking my purse and following them both out. Within that purse sat my Walther PPK.

Well, it was my mom’s handgun, because given my psychiatric history, there’s no way I’d ever be given a permit, but it’s in my possession now. About a month after she died, my father and I went through all her stuff. We gave her clothing away to a homeless shelter and Dad insisted I get her modest collection of jewelry except for her wedding band. All of her knickknacks stayed in their exact places within my family home, except I’ve noticed over the past year that some of them have been packed away, and I think that might be Maria asserting her influence. I figure Dad has them boxed and ready for me when I want them.

There wasn’t much left, but in addition to her jewelry, I got her gun. My parents have always had guns for as long as I can remember. I grew up shooting with them from the time I was a little girl, my dad often driving us up to Marin County on the weekends for target practice. Sometimes we’d hit McClure’s Beach on early foggy mornings and shoot beer cans off driftwood. Other times we’d head into Mount Tamalpais State Park where it was easy to get away from people and shoot into the silent forest.

I was comfortable with the gun. Knew how to load and shoot it.

While my long-distance aim is probably shit because I haven’t been able to target shoot given the illegality of my possession of this gun, I intend to be up close and personal with JT when I use it.

I won’t miss.

But ultimately, before I could rashly stalk out of the ballroom and commit cold-blooded murder to ease my pain, Beck was walking back in toward me. His jaw was locked tight, his eyes dull and grim. With a swiftness that surprised me, thoughts of vengeance and bloody death just evaporated, and I was filled with an overwhelming concern for Beck and his peace of mind. There’s no doubt he’s troubled by what he saw, and there’s also no doubt that when provoked, he’s a man who will react quickly and harshly. My empathy for Beck actually overtook my hate of JT, and I was compelled to help ease his distress. Granted, dancing may have been a stupid idea, but it put us in an immediate situation where I could put my hands on him in a calming fashion.

Where he was tense and still vibrating with restrained anger when he took my hand in his and pressed the other into my lower back, within just moments of us touching each other, I felt his shoulders relax and his breathing even out. Right after that, Beck was inviting me to stay in his home on an indefinite basis and said we were scrapping the entire hoax of a sugarship that we had been perpetrating.

Then he invited me to cook Thanksgiving dinner with him.

To meet his sister and niece.

He was telling me that I was becoming important to him.

All things that I never imagined I’d gain when I started this quest.

And once again, I’m wondering if the path I’m on seeking retribution is a fool’s errand when I consider what I can lose. Best-case scenario, I achieve my plans and get away with murder and Beck is never the wiser. We continue seeking a potential happily ever after.

Worst case, I get caught and spend my life in prison wondering if I lost something that may have had the potential to give me a normal and fulfilled life.

“You about ready to get out of here?” Beck asks gruffly, his hand rubbing sensuously on my lower back.

“If you are,” I say as I pull my head off his shoulder and gaze up at him.

He smiles softly at me, tips his head down, and rubs his nose against mine. “I just really want to be alone with you. Away from all this shit.”

With a slight tilt of my face, my mouth finds his and I answer with a tongue-filled kiss that causes him to groan and pull me in closer so I can feel the start of his erection burning through our clothes. The adrenaline, high emotions, and sexual longing in his eyes right now overwhelms me.

“Let’s go,” I murmur, and that’s all he needs before he’s leading me off the dance floor, through the ballroom, and out into the hotel lobby as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. With a few quick taps, he dials his driver and merely says, “We’re ready. Pull around.”

Beck’s hand is tight on mine as we step out into the chilly air. He doesn’t say a word, but just stares intently down the street until he sees the limo rounding the block to pull up in front of us. He doesn’t wait for the driver but pulls the back door open for me and helps me inside.

Crawling in right behind me, he tells the driver, “You can take us back to the Millennium, but circle the building when you get there until I tell you otherwise.”

The driver barely gets, “Yes, sir,” out before Beck is hitting the button that closes the window screen that separates us from him.

Beck lowers himself back on the seat beside me, and I gasp in surprise when he turns, puts hands to my hips, and drags me onto his lap so that my ass presses into his erection and my back into his chest. His arms circle my waist where he squeezes me briefly, places his lips to my ear, and whispers, “I need you right now. Can’t wait.”

My head spins and my entire body flushes hot with lust brought on not by the compromising situation he just put me in, but by the need in his voice. I answer by wiggling my butt and grinding down onto him.

Beck hisses, in pleasure…in pain…I don’t know, but then his hands go to the hem of my dress and he roughly pulls the material up my legs, right past my hips where it bunches around my waist. No sooner is the dress out of his way than his hand is between my legs and his fingers are inching under the white cotton lace of my panties. No sooner is his hand in my panties than his fingers are against my clit, dipping inside me, massaging me in and out. My heels punch into the carpeted floor of the car, my legs straighten, and my back arches away from him as the back of my head presses into his shoulder for leverage.

“That’s right,” he growls as he finger-fucks me, moving his other hand over my chest to pinch at a nipple through the silk of my dress. “I want you to come on my hand, baby. Come for me, Sela.”

My eyes roll into the back of my head as the pleasure threatens to consume me. His fiery touch, his filthy words, the mere fact he couldn’t even wait until we pulled away from the hotel has me racing toward climax at Mach speed. I vaguely wonder if the driver knows what we’re doing, figure he probably does, and God help me…that turns me on even more.

“Come on, Sela,” Beck grits out, his stiff cock grinding into my ass from below. “Give it to me so I can fuck you. Please give it to me…I need inside you so bad.”