Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(38)

I jam a hand into my hair, shifting my weight to steady myself as the ocean rages around us. The Atlantic’s got nothing on the emotions boiling over inside me.

“What is she trying to accomplish with this?” I ask myself the question more than Dorsey.

“She told Smith and Sanderson she wanted to check on Goliath. That’s why they agreed to bring her out. But she brought a bag, sir, and she put it in a guest room like she plans on staying here.”

Her actions make no sense. What the hell is going through Indy’s mind?

“Sir?” Dorsey asks. “Do you want me to remove her?”

I think of the deal I killed because I refused to promise Federov I would never go near India again. The ruthless businessman I’ve always been would have had no problem making that vow because the potential profit should have eclipsed every other consideration.

But for the first time in my life, something was more important than closing a deal. Someone. When I pictured living the rest of my life without seeing or touching India Baptiste, it stretched out before me like a wasteland. No meaning. No purpose. Just yawning emptiness.

In my whole life, she’s the one thing I want more than the satisfaction of winning.

I told Federov to shove his ultimatum up his ass. I would never agree to his terms, and the deal could go to hell.

It was the right choice. The only choice.

And now Indy’s in my home. Making herself at home.

Hope, something I’ve never let into my life before, weaves its way into my soul. The same way Indy did.

“No. Don’t make her leave. Watch her, though. Find out what she wants.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Dorsey?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell her you called me.”

“Of course, sir.”

As soon as I end the call, I head out to the deck to suck in fresh air and stare up at the sky above me. The salt spray in the air clings to my face as I thank whoever’s listening for giving me a second chance.

My next message goes to the helicopter pilot with our current coordinates.



Forge: Get me off the boat as fast as fucking possible.



The Fortuna, one of Isaac’s first cargo ships, used to be the place I felt most at home. The only place I could find any comfort, because I could feel Isaac’s presence here more than anywhere else in the world.

But not anymore. I have a life to get back to . . . and a woman to claim as my own. Come hell or high water, if she’ll have me, I’m never giving her up again.

India . . . I hope you’re ready, because everything I am, and everything I have, is yours. Including my heart.





35





India





The staff gape at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I feel like I’ve finally found it. I know what matters, and I know what I truly want. For my entire life, I’ve been fiercely loyal to my family, or at least the family I knew. Since Isaac’s death, Forge hasn’t had a single person who wasn’t on his payroll to care about him.

Whatever it takes, that ends now.

I’m setting up for a game on the poker table I had delivered from La Reina, a favor I called in from Jean Phillippe. To his credit, he didn’t ask many questions.

“Ms. Baptiste . . .” Dorsey has been hovering around me like she’s afraid I’m on the scary end of a mental break and is waiting for me to snap at any moment.

Her concern is misplaced. I’m not losing my mind . . . I’ve finally found it.

“Indy. I told you to call me Indy.”

She clears her throat. “Okay. Indy, do you really think this is a good idea?”

I straighten the final stack of chips and stand back to inspect my handiwork before I turn to answer her. She’s dressed in the same uniform of white slacks and navy polo with the stylized F on the breast as she usually wears.

“What’s your first name, Dorsey?”

The woman blinks, looking shocked that I would ask such a question. “Darcy.”

“Darcy Dorsey? Really?”

Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip before she answers. “I wasn’t always a Dorsey. It was my stepfather’s name. I took it when he adopted me in hopes that he wouldn’t knock me around as much if he thought of me as his kid.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, wishing I hadn’t brought up the subject.

“It’s over and done with. Not important anymore.” But her tone says that’s not true.

“It is important. Old hurts . . . they stick with us. I’m going to get real for a second with you. I make a lot of mistakes. I’m rash. Impulsive. Overconfident one minute and terrified the next. I learned to survive because I had to. I fuck things up as often as I get them right. But I know when to admit I’m wrong, and I should never have signed those divorce papers. I love Jericho Forge, and I’m not giving up on him.”

Her lips, devoid of any gloss or color, press together. “I understand what you’re saying, but Jericho Forge isn’t a man who can be swayed to do something he doesn’t want to do. I like you, Indy. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up that this is going to work out. Once he’s made up his mind, he doesn’t change it.”

Hearing something so grave from his employee’s lips doesn’t help my confidence, but it doesn’t lessen my resolve either. I knew the odds would be stacked against me, and I can handle it. Nothing worth having ever comes easily.