He wasn’t his father. He liked to control things around him, sure, but from a very young age, he’d fought to put parameters in place to keep from ever overstepping, from letting his emotions spill from control into the borderline obsession his father had suffered from.
Being in the Marines had honed that skill. He made decisions, and he stuck by them. He’d thought Belle had understood that before they married. But after she walked out, days had turned into weeks without so much as a word from her, and his anger had hardened into disappointment, then cold resolution. He would not play the games his mother had played with his father.
Nevertheless, after the intense passion they’d shared, the unique connection he thought they’d found, for her to just walk out had…hurt. He’d thought their bond, their chemistry, went deeper than that.
Being proven wrong didn’t stop him from craving her though, he thought bitterly. Even with her body covered in filth and grime, it had beckoned his at the basest level. Seeing her emerge from the cabin on the plane, clean and dressed in simple but elegant clothes, the hard kick to his groin had been a tough reminder of how much he’d missed her. All he’d wanted, still wanted, was to drag her close, relearn the exquisite lines of her in the most thorough and carnal way imaginable.
And yeah, after six months without sex, he would need a huge banquet to take the edge off the severe need clawing through him.
“A dry spell to end all bloody dry spells,” he muttered to himself, his smile self-mocking. It’d been a long time since he’d gone without sex for this long. Even his time in the Marines hadn’t been without its benefits.
He clamped down hard on the need that threatened to unman him. The satisfaction his body craved would just have to wait for a little longer, and so would the explanation of why the hell they were in this position in the first place. As much as he’d hated to admit it t
o himself, it was the not knowing why that had driven him nuts the most these past months. He could’ve stomached anything but her unexplained desertion. His mother had seen to it that he’d had enough of that to last him several lifetimes.
But his wife was in no shape to oblige him either with sex or an explanation, nor did she look like she wanted to.
Recalling the bruises he’d seen when he’d helped her change on the cargo plane, murderous rage made his fists clench hard.
Raking a shaky hand through his hair, he called through to Demetra to help Belle with her undressing, then went to the sitting room. He poured himself a stiff drink and downed it in one gulp. He savored a second cognac as he walked over to the doors that had been thrown open to let in the afternoon sun.
His phone buzzed, and he saw Alex’s number displayed. “Hey.” He reluctantly admitted he welcomed the distraction from thinking about what a mess his life was.
“You made it to Althea in one piece?” Alex asked.
“Depends on what you mean by one piece.”
“Did she threaten to tear you a new one when she realized you weren’t heading back to Jolly Ole England?” His cousin’s voice held deep amusement.
“One day, the tables will turn, and I’ll get to feed off the streaming comedy of your life.”
“That’ll only happen if I decide to obsess over one woman and one woman only. Something which I don’t intend to happen in the foreseeable future.”
“Never say never, my brother. Now did you call for a specific reason or just to rib me on my life’s choices?”
“I wanted to say I’m sending over some of my security guys to Althea. They should be there in the next couple of hours.” Alex’s tone turned serious. “You need anything else, you let me know, and I’ll be there.”
His chest tightened at the solid weight of his cousin’s promise, and he couldn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice came out gruff, “Thanks.”
“You heard anything about the scumbag’s whereabouts yet?”
Nick cleared his throat. “Not yet, but I intend to throw everything I have at it.”
“We cut down a good chunk of his army. That should slow him down a bit.”
“Hmm.” He felt a modicum of satisfaction for that. He’d be lying if he said he was sorry Mwana’s men had met a hellish end. As for the rebel leader, he’d instructed John Allen to find him, at all costs.
No one got away with threatening what belonged to him.
“Something else on your mind?”
“The intel we gathered indicates the bastard targeted Belle—it wasn’t an opportunistic grab.”
“You think he knew she was your wife?”
Alex knew him well; a little too well at times.
The Andreakos wealth meant he and his family were always targets for unscrupulous individuals. What sent alarming tingles down his spine was the piece of info Allen had revealed—the separate sleeping area, suspected to be Mwana’s—where they’d found several pictures of Belle.