One Bossy Dare: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)

Turns out, a business-class Lincoln is not a good rescue car.

It’s a clunky, meandering heap of metal and leather, hardly suited for hard slumming through this damn endless rain.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Destiny cries, her voice high-pitched.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Stay buckled, baby girl.”

She gives me a stricken look.

It’s been the same ever since Eliza called.

For a few seconds, I listened in frigid silence while she asked Troy what they were doing at a marina. Then the call cut out.

There’s only one marina out that way I know of.

With traffic grinding to a crawl with what looks like two nasty accidents ahead, it would almost be faster on foot. If only I had a ship big enough to handle the mess, I could—

Wait. Hold the fuck up.

“On second thought, reach up here and find my phone,” I tell her.

“Why?”

“Let’s play a game.”

“A game? Are you serious?” Her eyes are huge marbles, swirling with worry.

“Yep. I’m the captain and you’re a seaman. You follow orders, but you don’t ask questions,” I say tightly.

“This game sucks already.”

“Destiny, get my phone.”

With her nose wrinkling in protest, she reaches into the front seat and gropes around until she has my phone in hand.

“Now find Brock Winthrope in my contacts, call him, and put it on speaker,” I say.

It only rings twice before I hear, “Winthrope.”

“Brock, it’s Cole Lancaster—any chance you’re still in town?”

“I am,” he says cautiously.

Thank God. I don’t have time to sugarcoat anything tonight.

“Listen, you’re on speaker because I’m driving in this crap. I’m with my daughter and driver. I hate to ask, but I need a favor.”

He pauses before he says, “If I can, I’ll help. What’s wrong?”

“Rumor has it you rented a good-sized yacht since arriving in Seattle.”

“Yes, but you’d have to be an absolute jackass to take it out in this weather. I never had you pegged for stupid,” he says sharply.

“I know, it’s garbage. Traffic is even worse, and that ship is my best bet at getting across the Puget Sound on a night like this.”

“…you can’t wait to cross until after the storm clears?”

Fuck, how do I say this?

Do I just tell him my girlfriend’s in trouble?

Also, how weird is it that I’m chasing a woman who wants nothing to do with me through the storm of the century?

I don’t want to tell him that Troy could hurt her.

I don’t want it to be true. And I definitely don’t need a reactive pack of cops swooping in and pushing him to do something drastic.

All I want is Eliza leaving that marina in one piece.

Before I can say anything, Destiny cuts in. “Our sourcing guy went crazy. We think he’s kidnapped Eliza—or maybe not like kidnapped-kidnapped, but he’s taken her to some creepy marina and she doesn’t want to be there. My dad’s in full Navy man mode. He’s gonna tear this dude a second ass.”

“Eliza, the coffee girl?” Brock asks, and then with some amusement says, “If it involves ass-tearing, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Yes. The same brilliant woman behind the drinks for your resorts,” I say.

“Damn. She was such a sweet girl. I hope she’s not in real trouble?”

“I’m worried she is,” Destiny says anxiously.

“And I’m afraid my daughter’s right.” I growl into the phone. “Brock, can I use the yacht or not?”

“Of course. You don’t deserve to go through this again,” he says gently.

“To go through what again?”

“Back in Hawaii, at the signing, I overheard… No man deserves to have a woman he loves ripped away twice.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I didn’t say I loved her.

Still, it’s plain as day I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my heart in my throat, throbbing with murderous intent the second I find Troy Clement.

“She isn’t going anywhere as long as we’re quick,” I promise. “I’m turning around and heading for your pier now.”

“Should we call the police and give them the location in case you’re not fast enough?” Brock asks.

Tom holds up his phone in the back seat, signaling he’s already on it.

“Yes, but in this soup, who the hell knows how long it’ll take them to get there? I’m going either way. Can you have the boat ready so we can take off as soon as I get there?”

“Will do. I’ll have it staffed and ready. I’m not far, I’ll be there too.”

With a lucky break in traffic heading back into the city, I speed toward the dock where Brock keeps his infamously lavish rental alongside several other sleek, classy vessels only reserved for visitors with serious money and prestige.

Still, this is taking too long.

I keep glancing at my screen, hoping Eliza will call again.

Hoping for some sign Troy hasn’t fully snapped, that he hasn’t done anything to silence her.

Goddamn, I hope we make it in time.

I have to.

Twenty minutes later, I skid through the parking gate at the pier, flashing my ID and a black credit card for the bewildered, cold-looking parking attendant.

Once I jack the car into a space, I turn and look at Tom. “Stay in the car with Destiny, will you?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Lancaster.” The older man nods.

“Dad, no!” She whips her ponytail, shaking her head. “You have to take me. I have to help Eliza.”

“Destiny, we’ll be lucky to even get out of port on a night like this. There’s also no telling what Troy’s intentions are, his mental state, or even if he’s heavily armed. It’s not safe,” I warn.

“So, what? You’ll just go off and leave me an orphan then? Thanks, Dad. I love you too.” She sighs.

I snort pure frustration.

“Destiny, this is not the damn time.” I get out of the car and jog through pooling water to the boat.

Despite Tom’s best efforts, she’s right behind me, rushing through the puddles as fast as her pink Chucks will carry her. “Dad, hold up! Listen. I already lost one parent. I’m not waiting around to lose you, too. I can’t do nothing while you and Eliza are…” She trails off.

When I turn around with a burning sigh, I see heartbreak and terror etched on her face.

I don’t have time to argue, so I hoist her up and resume my run, carrying her onto the boat ahead of me.

“If you make me regret this—” And I’m sure I will. “You’re grounded for life, young lady. You stay on this ship with an adult at all times if you’re coming.”

“Deal!” she chirps happily.

Brock meets me with several crewmen as soon as I’m aboard. “We’re all set. Any last details I should know about?”

“Yeah. She was at the south marina off two fifty-three last time I heard from her.”

He nods. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. I haven’t been on a mission like this in a long time.” He grins, combing back his dark, rain-slicked hair with his fingers.

He’s more excited about it than I am. I suppose I can’t blame him.

“Same, but I wish I wasn’t. The stakes are too goddamned high,” I mutter.

“You love her, don’t you?” he asks gruffly.

“She’s—” Everything, I almost say, but then I remember she resigned from the company and me. “She was an excellent employee and she damn sure doesn’t deserve this. That’s the long and short of it.”

“Got it,” he says, a doubtful edge to his voice.

“He’s lying. He’s over the freaking moon with her,” Destiny whispers. “I think she’s pretty cool, too.”

Brock smiles at her and looks at me, his eyes piercing through the gloom. “Are you sure you want the kid aboard?”

She glares at him. “I’m not a kid, hotel guy.”

Winthrope smiles, his face tight with laughter.

“She wouldn’t stay behind and I don’t have time to argue. She’s a brave little brat, but she cares about Eliza. Thanks for helping find her,” I tell Brock sincerely.

There’s the throaty grind of an engine spooling to life and then motion as the ship begins backing away. Once I make sure Destiny heads inside the lower deck cabin with Tom, I follow Brock up to the bridge.

Even with the conditions being what they are, travel by sea is faster and safer than anything on land tonight.

There’s no manic traffic to fight and we’re close to our destination in less than an hour.

As Olympia’s lights materialize off to one side, Brock steps out and leans over the railing, peering far into the night.

“Captain says we’ll be there in another fifteen minutes or so.” There’s an eagerness to his voice I don’t like.

I hope he’s not so glory hungry he plans on coming with me. Sure, he’s a military man like me, but this is my problem alone. My life to risk.

The last thing I need is to worry about keeping him alive too.

“Is this little marina even equipped for a ship like this?” I ask, already knowing the answer before he shakes his head. “Let’s get a lifeboat ready. I saw they’re motorized. I’ll disembark and go straight for Eliza.”

“Are you going to lead or am I?” he asks coldly.

Fuck. If I have my way, he’s not coming at all.

“I need you to stay behind, Brock. Backup, in case anything goes sour in the scuffle. I’ll grab a radio and you can listen in.” I hold his gaze and decide he deserves the full story, considering the giant favor he’s doing me. “Troy and I were in the Navy together. I have some idea what makes him tick, even if he’s gone goddamned crazy. There’s no chance anyone else is going to talk him down from what he’s up to. My best chance of doing that is if I show up alone. I don’t want anyone getting hurt tonight—not even that asshole, if I can avoid it.”

After a heavy second, Brock nods. “I’ll man the ship. Just watch your ass, Lancaster. Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

We shake hands and share a quiet, calm moment as the ship churns closer to land, anchoring safely offshore.

Soon, I throw on a heavy raincoat and a couple of his crew help me into the lifeboat they already have waiting in the water. I power up the engine and plow over lashing waves toward a hazy row of docked fishing boats.

I can’t guess which one I should aim for—if it’s any of them at all. They could easily be in the boathouse or bar or whatever it is I faintly make out in the distance.

Then I see a light moving in the cabin of one of those small boats. It’s almost like a flashlight or lantern, sputtering into the water as it sways back and forth.

The ship isn’t docked, I realize, though it’s barely pulled away from the marina. It looks more like whatever reckless idiot is at the helm is trying to bring it home and failing miserably.

Odds are I know exactly who that idiot is.

Several tense breaths later after climbing over furious waves, I’m as close as I’m going to get.

It’s now or never.

I push the lifeboat right up against the hull of the other vessel and jump.

My hands barely catch the rusted metal edge. I haul myself over the top, landing on the wet, hard deck with a bone-rattling thud!

But the second loud thud exploding in my ears isn’t me.

I turn and find an axe stuck in the deck just a few inches away from my neck—and two big, angry arms fighting to pull it out again.

Troy leers down at me as he growls, “Asshole, do you always have to be the big goddamned hero? You just can’t let anything go!”

Anything?

I shudder. It’s all too easy to hear the word Aster instead.

“Badger bitch isn’t dead yet, my dude,” he says. He’s wearing his usual grin—only in the wet, cold darkness, it looks downright psychotic. Especially as he tumbles backwards with the axe free.

“Troy, stop. Consider this fair warning. You don’t have to—”

“I don’t, do I?” he asks absently, looking at the axe in his hands before he slowly raises it above his head. “I don’t, but I will. You fucking killed her, Cole. You and your pride and your neverending expectations—and now you made me do this again!”

Shit.

I twist out of his way as he charges and sweeps the weapon down again. This time, it bounces off the deck and doesn’t get stuck before he rocks back.

“You ruin everything!” He’s swinging wildly, blind with rage.

I’m moving from side to side, dodging the axe each time, grateful I haven’t skidded onto my ass while I try to keep my footing on this tilting, slick deck.

The whole world keeps shifting around us as the rain picks up again, dumping a bucket of water on our heads every five seconds.

Goddamn.

I’ve got to get that thing away from him. I’ve got to—

Troy stumbles as another sharp wave tips the ship, holding the wooden handle with both hands. He spins, working with the inertia, still swinging as close as he can to my throat.

A second later, I see my chance.

I go in for a low snap kick, trying to stay under the damn axe without the rocking ship tossing me on my back.

I’ve stayed in lean shape, but I’m not the man I was in my Navy days.

My foot lands square in the center of his chest and he fumbles, but the asshole doesn’t fall over.

He totters, sways—and it’s all the opening I need.

Another kick, this time to his knees.

He stumbles forward, groaning, and his grip on the axe loosens. When the ship bows again, it falls, sliding just out of his reach and spinning toward me through a couple inches of water.

Doubled over, Troy glares at me, his eyes sharp pinpricks of boiling mercury in the night.

“Lay down, goddamn you,” I snarl, turning the axe around and holding it like a baseball bat. “You don’t have to be stupid, Troy. Just stay down and tell me where you’ve got her. The police are coming. Turn yourself in.”

For a second, his nostrils flare in the deadly silence. I wonder if he’s actually considering it.

But the sneer that cuts across his face like lightning reveals his answer.

“And what? Let you get away with it? Let you get away with everything?” He stands again, his fists flexed into rocks, trembling furiously at his sides. “Fuck that and fuck you, Cole. I gave you all an easy way out—you and Destiny and that mouthy badger bitch who never shuts up.”

If he weren’t planning to crack my skull open, I’d smile at how he describes her. Because that’s my Eliza, my love, my everything—a woman who still wouldn’t take one speck of his shit, even when he threatened her.

“I gave it to Aster—I gave her an out—but fuck.” He’s breathing ragged, entirely consumed with pain and anger. “What is it with you people? Why are you all too stupid to fix your lives?”

I have no answer, just my gut dropping.

This isn’t the time to process his vicious, slurring words.

He looks at me darkly, his mind made up, death flashing in his dark eyes. It’s not just the lightning overhead.

Snarling, I grab the ax handle, making it an extension of my body as he drags himself up, plants his feet, and charges like a brazen bull.

I hold my breath, counting slowly.

One.

Two.

Three.

Now!

I lurch aside just as he blows past, his fists flying, punching and swearing at the air.

One strong swing is all it takes.

A sickening crack!

The wooden handle connects with the back of his head.

There’s so much force it vibrates up my arm.

When I regain my balance, I look down. Just in time to see the jackass slumping to the ground, hissing like a deflated balloon into unconsciousness.

Fuck.

Lightning cracks across the sky in a web. The thunder booms so loudly it shakes the entire boat, and then there’s just this eerie silence, everything falling still except for the drumming rain.

Thud.

I almost miss the sound the first time.

It’s buried in the rain’s white noise. But then I hear it again, it’s rhythmic and not coming from the sky.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Shit. That’s somewhere on the boat.

I tighten my grip on the axe and start moving toward the cabin, calling, “Eliza! Eliza are you here?”

Thud-thud-thud.

The back of the ship.

I move toward the sound as fast as I can through this mess. As soon as I turn the corner, I find several massive fishing chests, the kind that can hold at least a hundred pounds of fresh meat.

Shit.

If he threw my girl in a stinking coffin of a fishing chest, I might just stalk back to his worthless carcass and kill him all over again.

I have no idea which one she’s in, but I just know.

There aren’t many other places to hide her on a ship this small.

Thud! The banging sounds more urgently than before.

The center chest.

Using the axe, I position myself carefully.

“Eliza, hold still!” I yell.

With a savage swing, I hack through the lock and tear the lid off.

Eliza comes up coughing, sticking her head up into the rain with a deep, gasping breath of relief. She’s a mess, red-faced and slick with sweat and ocean rain, sobbing so hard she’s quaking.

I don’t even hesitate.

I’m just grateful as hell she’s alive.

Fucking alive.

Reaching down, I haul her out of the chest, cradling her so close to my chest it hurts. “Oh, shit. Eliza. I’m sorry. I’m so goddamned sorry, sweetheart.”

She wraps her arms around my neck weakly, still sobbing and straining for air.

“Just breathe. Nice and slow,” I urge, kissing the top of her head again and again.

Go ahead. Ask me if I care that she smells like three-day-old octopus moldering in the sun.

She’s too stunned, too hurt to speak.

She doesn’t need to.

I cling to her like a second shadow, hot fury and relief storming my blood, running my fingers through her wet mop of hair.

I need her to stay with me.

Almost as much as I need to remind myself that she’s here, she’s safe, and it’s a miracle when she’s always been too fucking gorgeous and softhearted for this world.

Seeing her like this hurts a hundred times worse than if Troy hurled that blade through me, but having her arms around me—it’s like feeling my soul come home.

I’m about to try helping her to her feet when we’re both blinded. A blaring spotlight rakes over us and a booming voice speaks through loud helicopter blades, “US Coast Guard! Come out with your hands up.”

“We’re getting off this ride,” I whisper, kissing her head again. “Can you walk?”

For a second, she just looks at me, her eyes big and glassy like she can’t decide if she likes what she sees.

“Eliza?” I urge.

But she sucks in a breath and releases a final hitched sob. Then she’s limp in my arms.

I stand, panicked, feeling for her pulse, her breathing, her vitals.

They’re all there, thank God.

The second I scramble off the boat, carrying her, I hand her off to the EMT, who lays her out on a stretcher. A second team rushes past me to Troy, who’s apparently still alive—a fact I couldn’t have imagined feeling so indifferent to an hour ago.

“You want to ride to the hospital with her?” he asks.

Fuck.

After that parting look, I wonder if she’ll want me there.

Still, I’d drown myself in this storm before I let anything keep me away.

I have to make sure she’s okay—and if she’s not, I have to tell her parents. Troy may have made up his mind to murder her, but her winding up in this mess is entirely my fault.

There’s barely time to tell Destiny to stay with Brock through her machine-gun questions before I ride to the hospital with Eliza.

The whole way there, I lace her fingers through mine, kissing her knuckles.

“Please be okay. Please wake up so I can apologize for the clueless asshead I’ve been.” My voice cracks as I push my lips to her ear. “No matter what happens, Eliza, I’ll always fucking love you.”

After I’m able to tear myself away from her with multiple warnings from the medical staff, I find Destiny and Brock waiting for me in the lobby.

Dess stands and throws herself at me, a little cannonball looking for a hug. “Are you okay? Is Eliza…”

“I’m fine and so is she,” I say.

“Holy crap. That’s great news. But you don’t look fine.” She studies my face, her brows knit together.

“Just a little banged up from the scuffle. It happens when you’re wrestling an axe away from a maniac,” I grumble, realizing too late I shouldn’t be spilling too much to Destiny without considering the consequences.

Until he went insane, Troy was an estranged uncle reunited. That has to be hard on her, one more disappointment in a family as tattered as ours.

“Sorry, Dess. I didn’t mean to—”

“You can say it, Dad. I don’t care about Troy. He tried to hurt her. God, he wanted to kill you,” she whispers angrily. “I hope they nail his butt to the wall. Like a hundred life sentences.”

I smile. “Only a hundred, huh?”

“How’s Eliza?” she asks eagerly.

“Stable. Sounds like she’ll be fine in a day or two. I’m not family, so I couldn’t pry much out of the doctors.” I sigh. “It’s been a long night. We’re going home now, okay?”

Brock stares at me. “You’re sure you don’t need a checkup yourself, Lancaster?”

“I’ll live. Eliza had it a lot worse than I did and she’s the one worth fussing over. Thank you again, Brock, for everything.” I grab the hand he extends, shaking it with both of mine.

He gives me a tired smile. “Happy to help. I’ll leave you folks to your business.”

We watch him head down the corridor, and I wonder if I’ve gained a friend to replace the lunatic frenemy I lost tonight.

“We can’t just leave her here.” Destiny folds her arms and stares at me, her bottom lip jutting out.

“What do you mean? We’re not family, Dess, and privacy laws are pretty strict.”

“So? I don’t care if we wait all night. We can’t leave Eliza alone.”

“Destiny, she’s a grown woman. There won’t even be visiting hours until tomorrow. I just got off the phone with her parents and I owe them another update soon. I promised.”

“Fine, Dad. But she’s gonna be pissed at you again if she wakes up and you’re not here,” she flares. Her eyes are sad, accusing me of high crimes I haven’t committed yet.

“I’m sorry. I can’t rewrite the rules of the world, however much I wish I could,” I say bluntly. “When we see Eliza again, it’ll be on her terms, little bee. Understood?”

She looks at me angrily before releasing a loud sigh. “Really, Dad? You’re just going to give her space? How well did that work out last time?”

I don’t answer, I just start heading for the lobby.

On the long drive home with an exhausted Tom at the wheel, I realize Destiny is right.

I can’t let Eliza wake up alone, even if I’m stuck in a waiting room.

Once we’re home and I’ve got Destiny fed and off to bed, I call Lincoln Burns.

“What’s up, Lancaster?”

“Any chance I can speak to your darling wife without her wanting to kick me in the balls? I don’t have her number.”

He chuckles. “Dakota wants your balls crushed? What did you do?”

“It’s about Eliza.”

“Oh. Oh, shit.” I hear soft chatter and a baby laughing in the background. “If you guys are busy—”

“No, it’s fine,” he clips. “What happened? Is she okay?”

“She’s in the hospital.”

“Damn. I’m sorry to hear—”

“Hello? What did you do to her, you lump of numbnuts?” Dakota answers sharply, no doubt jerking the phone away from her husband.

I grit my teeth.

I explain the situation, ending with, “She’s okay minus what looks like a few bruises, just resting and under observation. I don’t want her waking up alone—”

“And you left her?”

The accusation is as clear as it was when Destiny flung it in my face.

“I’m on my way back there now. I had to get my teenage daughter settled for the night with a housekeeper to watch the place.” I pause. “I’ll be there when she wakes up. I’m just not sure I’ll be the person she wants to see when she opens her eyes, and if I’m not…” I trail off.

“You want me as a backup.” She’s silent for a long while before she says, “Holy crap. Maybe you’re actually a decent guy after all and you do deserve her.”

“I’ll see you in a few,” I say, hearing my phone click off.

She already hung up on me.

I wonder if Dakota Burns is right.

Do I deserve her at all?

My past nearly got her slaughtered tonight, and I left her vulnerable because I wasn’t man enough for a heart-to-heart before she wound up in a fishing chest.

Troy was right about one thing in his psychotic, babbling attack.

I could have lost her.

My pride, my moodiness, my refusal to face the past on anyone else’s terms nearly got her killed.

I see my life without her for a moment, spinning through one desolate, cold scene after the next.

Fuck.

Without Eliza, life is bleak.

After tonight, I’d lay down my life for that woman in a heartbeat ten thousand times.

Regardless, it’s her choice.

If she wants to walk away from me, I have to let her.

She has a right to peace from my toxic shit storm of a life.

Technically, my mangled past shouldn’t be a problem anymore with Troy behind bars, but what if he left behind scars? What if she decides all too fairly that my bullshit just isn’t worth it?

The stakes are so high it hurts.

This is what I get for falling in love with a bright, whip-smart angel who deserves so much more than I can ever give her.

And that angel rules my head all damn night after I make it back to the hospital and collapse in a chair.

I dream of her in that fluttering island dress she wore in Kona, the salty, sassy taste of her lips, the fragrant orchids mingling with her own scent of coffee and mischief.

When a heavy hand on my shoulder wakes me up in the morning, I look up and see Lincoln’s amused face staring down, a baby balanced in his other arm.

“Hey. She’s awake now,” he tells me. “Nurse said she started asking for Dakota first thing.”

I stiffen.

Dakota. Not me.

I stand, grabbing the light jacket I’ve had draped over myself like a sheet all night and head for the hallway.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” he asks.

“Eliza needs a friend and I won’t get in the way of that,” I say dryly, my throat parched. “The second she’s ready for me, I’ll be there.”

I storm out of the hospital, wondering how badly I’ve boned my entire life. All because I couldn’t talk to her like a normal human being.

I turn around twice, second and triple guessing, but ultimately head for my car.

Indecision doesn’t suit me.

Neither does causing this broken cup of a woman even another second of pain.

If and when she’s ready, I’ll see her.

And whether she ever gives me the chance or not, my entire heart and soul will forever belong to Eliza Angelo.