never let him live the marriage down. They’d started calling him Wedding Ken and one wiseass had bought him a pair of matching his-and-hers ring pops. “But I can go out and announce to all of your colleagues that we’re married.”
She didn’t back down. “Awkward, but I’ll live.”
One of the useful things about Ashley was that she froze when she lied. She probably didn’t realize that she stilled, as if all of the brain cells in that downright enormous brain of hers diverted to creative thinking and forgot to keep her body in motion. The way she’d stopped moving when she’d dismissed his threat screamed concern. All he needed to do was push a wee bit harder and she’d be on that plane with him.
“I’ll give them all the details, Dixon. With photos. You in a white bikini with BRIDE bedazzled over your perky little ass.”
“You wore matching swim trunks,” she pointed out, her magnificent boobs rising and falling as her temper picked up steam. The top button on her blouse was in serious danger of blowing, a development that he’d enjoy as he had nothing but admiration for her breasts, but she’d care. Maybe he’d let her know. In a minute. Or six.
“I passed your HR department on the way in.” He grinned, keeping half an eye on that button. “Shall I plan on making a pit stop there...?”
“What are they going to do? Throw me a bridal shower?” The button didn’t budge, damn it, but a mocking smile curved her lips. Kissing the smirk away became his new plan B.
“After I pay a visit to Human Resources, you’ll be drowning in paperwork. I’ll be on your life insurance, your 401K beneficiary form, and your DNR. You’ll spend years untangling our lives. Plus, it’s not like we eloped to Vegas on our downtime. We got hitched on a tropical island that promotes kinky sex.”
She treated him to another eye roll. “I’m trying not to remember that part.”
Then she was going to love what he had to say next.
“I read the news this morning. The DEA is in the middle of a sex scandal, babe, and some of your agents in a South American country that shall not be named? They liked to attend cartel-sponsored sex parties and Fantasy Island won’t look good in that light. When you take the stand in the Marcos case in two weeks, the defense lawyer will have a field day with you.”
He watched her gorgeous face as she chewed his words over. If Marcos’s lawyer found out she and Levi had gotten married on a tropical island known for sex games, the headlines wouldn’t be good. At best, her reputation would be shot. At worst, she’d be looking at a demotion or getting fired.
“You’d get in trouble too,” she countered. Right. They’d covered his lack of permission from a superior officer—and his lack of concern. His wasn’t a career-ending move even if Command wouldn’t be thrilled. He hadn’t been on leave and he sure hadn’t asked permission—but he also hadn’t thought he was really tying the knot.
“And I’ll get a slap on the wrist. You want to risk your next promotion? Because I heard you had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you’re over the moon about.”
“This is blackmail.”
He shrugged. Having had some experience with skirting the grayer edges of the law, he knew better than to admit anything out loud.
“You’re willing to commit a felony to force me to accompany you?” Her voice rose, and the button on her blouse slipped further.
In answer, he blew her a kiss.
“You suck,” she bit out.
“One hundred percent, babe.” He definitely had her now. “I get the pleasure of your company for one week on Fantasy Island. You get radio silence about why we’re headed out there and a bonus vacation at a swank resort.”
“Two things.” She held up a finger. “One, I always get even.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Two, blow my credibility with my team, and I will kill you.”
“Hey, you want me to go away.” Christ, she’d felt good pinned beneath him. Marriage didn’t have to be all bad. “Well, in order for that to happen, you got to give me something, starting with a divorce. You’re coming with me, babe,” he said, because he loved needling her and damned if this wasn’t the first time in a long time he’d come out the clear winner in their battle of wits. Fighting with Dixon was tricky business.
She slammed her head against the back of her chair, fingers digging into the armrest. “Fuck.”
He winked at her. “Only if you ask nicely.”
FANTASY ISLAND LOOKED GOOD. Or maybe that was Ashley’s unwilling company.
Ashley had pointedly ignored him on their flight from Virginia to Belize. They’d hitched a ride on a military carrier, so it hadn’t been the kind of flight with peanuts and mile-high sex, which was too bad. She looked even better than the island, although he wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud with any degree of sincerity. She still wanted his head on a platter for the we’re-married-for-real revelation he’d laid on her in Quantico. And, yeah, she was also sore about his making her come down to Belize. Too bad for her, because he liked pushing her buttons. She was cute as hell when she got mad.
She’d braided her hair back in a no-nonsense twist. The severe do, combined with her white T-shirt and khaki flight suit, shouldn’t have been sexy. Unfortunately for him, he appeared to find everything about her attractive. She was like fire and he couldn’t not touch.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this kind of curiosity about anything, but he felt it in spades around Ashley and never mind that dragging her out here topped the list of stupid things he’d done in his lifetime. Sure, he probably could have handled all this himself via a couple of quick phone calls—even if the registry department was waterlogged and sans roof—but what fun would have that been? So, instead, he’d blackmailed her onto the military transport and then called in a few favors for a helicopter to make the hop from Belize City to Fantasy Island. He must have left his brain in his last foxhole or stood too close to a mortar round. That was the only explanation.
As soon as the bird hit the landing pad and the rotors stopped, Ashley was out and striding down the path. She hadn’t even bothered grabbing her bag. He knew she didn’t want to be here, but he hadn’t realized she’d literally be running to check out their marriage ceremony. She was breaking all known speed records for tracking down a divorce and he didn’t think it was because she only had a week’s vacation time to spend on the island.
“You left your stuff,” he hollered after her, ignoring the resort staff already moving in to grab their duffels. Problem solved, although he usually preferred to handle his own gear, and not just because he usually packed ammo instead of swim trunks.
She tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder. “Make yourself useful, Brandon.”
“You want me to be your porter?” Like that was happening.
Screw it. He grabbed his own bag and hoofed it after her. He’d keep his stuff where he could see it, especially since he had a Glock and a few other toys cozied
