by Jessie Jones
Although she was annoyed at her British lover, Gillian found herself smiling. Throwing her arms around his neck, she said, "I think you're the savage caveman. Who tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes last night?"
Kissing her lips again, John huskily replied, "You loved every minute of it, kitten. I do remember you having a rather explosive orgasm on my dick. I think my sweet American has a taste for the dark side. She just doesn't want to admit it yet."
"Do you have any fantasies that you haven't fulfilled yet, Bear?" Gillian asked shyly, watching his eyes intently.
"I do, and they all involve you," John said sincerely, sensing her vulnerability. "What about you, kitten? Is there anything naughty that you would like to try?"
"I want to explore your body, Bear," the beautiful woman replied, her hands roaming down his muscular back to cup his hard ass. "Every single, delicious inch of it. How about we start now?"
Pushing his rising desire down, John ran his tongue along her bottom lip and grinned. "I'm late for work. We can play later."
"You're so damn mean to me, John Kenric." Gillian again pouted as the Brit pulled away. "I'll just play with my pussy after you leave. Maybe I'll even send you a video of it."
"Touch that luscious cunt of yours and see what happens, kitten. You thought your punishment was bad last night, just try and disobey me today," the British billionaire said in a deep, smoky voice that told her how serious he was. Grabbing her hand, John pulled Gillian up on her feet as he wrapped his arms around her sulking frame. Rubbing her sore ass to remind her who was in control, John kissed her lips again and smiled. "Stop pouting, sweetheart. You know I love you. I promise I'll make it up to you tonight. I want you dressed and ready to leave around seven."
"Okay, Bear, I'll be ready," Gillian replied, kissing John back. Releasing him, she watched him head to the door. Before he was out of sight, she asked, "Can I at least have a hint as to where we're going tonight?"
John turned and simply said, "No." He then winked at her before turning around and leaving. Over his shoulder, he yelled, "I'll call later, love."
Gillian closed her eyes and smiled, completely and totally in love. Quickly pulling on her pants, she sat down at the luxurious table setting. Filling her plate full of food, she began to eat. After all, a girl needed her nourishment, particularly for a night of amazing, orgasmic sex!
Chapter 7
Patrick sat at the conference table in John's office as he finished his phone call and John talked quietly with Tania. His eyes scanned the handful of elite businessmen who were being led out of the room by his own personal secretary. When the phone call ended, Patrick laughed loudly as he clapped his hands together. "Briggs just closed the deal in New York, mate! Looks like Kenric Industries will be expanding to the U.S. by the first of the year."
"Did you have any doubts, boyo?" John replied, a smile on his face as he signed a handful of documents presented to him by Tania. As he wrote his signature, he asked, "Did Briggs tell you when he wants us to meet him in New York?"
"No, he didn't, but he did say that he would be faxing some documents for us to review. Apparently, the governor needed some persuasion to give us the land we wanted in Manhattan."
Rolling his eyes, John asked, "And how much did that persuasion cost us?"
"A quarter of a million, but as you know, that's pocket change compared to what we will be making."
John nodded his head as he signed the last document. He then looked at Tania and winked. "Thank you for your assistance, sweetheart. Tell Luther and Duff that they can come in, and please bring us a fresh pot of tea."
"And some biscuits, lovey."
"Of course." Tania smiled, looking at both men. They both appeared to be in a very good mood today, and she wondered if John's little American had anything to do with that.
When Tania closed the door to John's office, Patrick kicked back in his chair and propped his long, muscular legs on the table. "So, Johnny, I'm assuming since you aren't throwing chairs through the windows that you and kitty made up after I left. Will she be able to stand tonight?"
"She can stand, but her knees may be a little bruised." John chuckled, thinking of his stunning, feisty American. He had greatly enjoyed her mouth this morning and had been touched that she had considered his feelings first. Only Pat had ever done that. "So, will you be joining us this evening, or do you have other plans?"
"Oh, I'll be there, boyo. You couldn't keep me away if you tried," Patrick replied just as Duff and Luther walked in. "Where are we going exactly?"
"Dinner, the theater, and then the surprise we talked about earlier. I think kitten will enjoy what we have in store for her." John grinned as his eyes focused on Duff, who was carrying a tray that contained a delicate tea pot and a saucer of biscuits. "Well, if it isn't the happy homemaker. Where's your apron, love?"
"It got dirty when he used it as a cushion for his knees while sucking off the chef." Luther chuckled as John and Patrick burst out laughing.
"Fuck you all!" Duff replied sarcastically, although the smile on his face told a different story. "It's called being a gentleman, lads. Maybe you three should try it sometime. I was trying to help our lovely Tania, who had her hands full. See, this is just another example of why I, Duff McKay, have no trouble getting the ladies. Take notes, gents…take notes."
"Well, you keep patrolling the corners for love and I'm sure you will have no trouble finding it." Patrick chuckled, winking at Duff as he set the tray down. Picking up a cookie, he said, "Pour us some tea, lovey."
"Just for the record, if we are talking numbers, you bastards can't hold a candle to the women I've had. I've not only had quantity, but I've had quality," John said playfully as Duff placed a cup of tea in front of him. "However, you all are free to utilize my leftovers because I have everything that I need in my precious kitten. There is not a woman whom I have met or will meet who even remotely compares to her."
"Do you need a diary and a pen, sweetheart, so you can write your love sonnets?" Duff asked as the men again burst out laughing.
John flipped Duff off before pouring some cream into his tea. "It's okay, Duff, I understand the jealousy, mate. I'd be livid if I had to watch one of my best friends fucking a woman who is absolute perfection. I'm sure kitten can recommend a counselor if you need to discuss your feelings."
Duff threw back his Scottish head and laughed with the other men as he took a seat beside Luther. With a small, smile still on his handsome face, he said, "I am jealous, mate. Gillian is absolute perfection. With all honesty, I'm glad you found her. How soon before she's pregnant with a wee one?"
"That, I don't know, but I would hope soon."
"Yeah, but I somehow don't think she would agree with you," Patrick replied, popping another biscuit into his mouth. "We need to teach that one to stop analyzing every little thing that happens in her life. She has a bad habit of that, as you know."
"I couldn't agree with you more, boyo," John replied, taking another sip of tea. Glancing at his watch, he said, "Gentlemen, while I enjoy talking about my lovely kitten, we need to get down to business. Pat and I have a meeting with the prime minister at Downing Street in an hour. As you all know, Geno sent us a gift. I have not seen the video yet, but I have been reviewing the journal that kitten gave me. We need to come up with a plan, because he wants Gillian and the rest of us dead, and I just can't allow that."
"Is the information in the journal useful, Johnny?" Patrick asked. "I mean, we know Geno is one fucked up bastard, but is the journal just his ramblings, or is there more?"
Picking up a remote from the table, John clicked a button and a large TV screen descended from the ceiling. "The journal has been somewhat difficult to read, actually. It's a hodgepodge of writings throughout his entire life and quite thick," John said, looking into the Irishman's eyes. "It's not only full of personal information in regard to his whereabouts, but he talks a lot about my father and mother."
"John, why the fuck haven't y
ou said something?" Patrick asked, the turmoil evident in his brother's eyes.
"I think, because I'm still trying to digest it myself," John answered honestly, turning his head to look out the window that made up an entire wall. "Apparently, my mother, Molly, worked for Geno before meeting my father and was pregnant for a short time with his child. I haven't uncovered the reason yet, but she lost the baby before meeting my father. Geno, of course, blames my father for the death of his unborn child. Geno also indicates that my bitch of a stepmother, Ann, was Geno's cousin. The plan was to kill all of us, but Ann began to grow a conscience while having me abused daily, so she sent me to the orphanage."
"Oh, fuck, Johnny," The Irishman replied softly as John's eyes met his. He could see the pain there and knew his brother was reliving the trauma in his mind. He wanted to hug his mate but knew John wouldn't allow that in front of Duff and Luther. "I'm sorry, boyo. I don't know what to say."
"You don't need to say anything, Pat," John replied, looking back out the window. "The really fucked up thing in Geno's journal involves Father Joseph."
Patrick's eyes turned silver and his jaw clenched in anger at the mention of the priest. "What did he say about the bastard?"
"Geno wrote about a brother who went away to join the seminary and how this brother was moved around from church to church because he was suspected of physically abusing children. So, to prove that he was a man of 'moral character', Geno's father purchased an orphanage and put his son in charge of it. What was the name of that orphanage, you ask? The one and only St. Vincent."
"Son of a bitch!" Duff roared as Patrick sat back in his seat and closed his eyes a moment. "They knew that bastard was hurting children, and his bloody father basically gave him a playground in which to do it. That's bullshit!"
"We always suspected that Geno and Father Joseph were connected in some way, now we know how," John said, the bile of disgust rising in his throat. He kept his eyes on Patrick, who was not saying anything. The Brit knew the Irishman was hurting, and that enraged him. He hated to see Patrick hurt. "Geno also indicates that his father 'hand-picked' most of the children who were brought to the orphanage. The children were apparently retribution for a crime committed by their family."
Duff stood up and began pacing the floor as he fought with his own emotions. "I need a fucking minute, mate," the Scottish man said as he went to the door and slammed the door shut behind him.
"Luther, will you make sure Duff is okay?" John asked the African guard as he reached out and grabbed his wrist in comfort. Luther had not been present at the orphanage with the other men but cared greatly about all three of them. John then watched the guard stand up and quickly make his way out of the room. When the door shut behind him, the Brit looked directly at Patrick who was still sitting silently. "Pat talk to me, boyo. What are you thinking? I don't like that you have suddenly become so quiet."
"I'm not sure what to say, Johnny," the Irishman said softly, his eyes meeting the Brit's. There were unshed tears in their turquoise depths. "I'm not even sure what to feel. I would hate to think my parents were murdered and I was sent to the fucking orphanage because of something my parents did to Geno's old man. Neither one of my parents would have ever hurt a fucking fly, but I had always thought they were murdered, so somehow it makes sense. I briefly remember this man coming to our house, wanting to buy a large chunk of our land, but my da threw him out. Maybe that was Geno's father."
"It could have been, and I'm so sorry you have to go through this," John replied, moving to the chair that sat beside his best mate. He placed a hand on the nape of Pat's neck and said, "Our whole lives have been fucked up because of some bullshit that had nothing to do with us! Geno and his father destroyed our families…our right to some sort of happiness! This bastard has tormented us for too long, Pat! Now he is not only trying to hunt us down, but he wants to harm kitten! Kitten, mate! A woman who has done nothing to warrant his rage! A woman who would try to save the bastard if he lay bleeding to death!"
"So, we kill Geno, mate, then what?" Patrick said softly, looking at the Brit. "Does that fix everything in our lives? I have a feeling it won't, because neither one of us have ever dealt with the pain and anguish he's caused us. I don't know about you, but I'm sick of the killing. You've known for some time that I'm ready to quit the game. I won't leave you, boyo, but I would love to have some sense of normalcy in my life. Maybe even have a child one day."
"When Geno's dead, we can have those things, Pat! We can finally stop looking over our shoulder every minute of every fucking day!"
"I want to believe you, Johnny, but I know how you deal with shit! You live for the game, mate, and that works for you, but will it work for kitty? You are letting your rage and pain drive you. Let her heal you…I mean, really heal you. Put all those emotions into her and the life that you both can have. I don't want our children, if there are children in our future, to continue this fight."
"I'll only be able to do that when Geno is dead," John replied, thinking of his precious American. "I can't have a man out walking the streets who wants you and kitten dead. Help me kill the Italian bastard, and I promise you I'll deal with my shit."
At that moment, Luther and Duff walked back into the conference room. John pat the Irishman lovingly on the back before standing up and walking back over to the head of the table. As the two men sat back down, John asked, "You both okay?"
"Fine, mate. Let's just get this over with so I can go get a drink," Duff said, raking an agitated hand through his reddish brown hair.
John nodded before he hit the play button on the remote. As the video came on, the hair stood up on their necks as they saw the Italian standing in the center of several dead women who looked like Gillian. The women had been stabbed to death and were missing their eyes. Geno was covered in blood and was holding a picture of his son Galen in one hand and a knife in the other. He was breathing very hard and looked as though he was in a dark rage. As the camera panned closer to him, he began talking. "I hope you enjoyed my little gift, Kenric. You might have even just been looking at a pair just like them, but in Gillian's face. Enjoy every moment while you can, because, soon, she'll be dead and rotting in an open grave. You killed my boy, so now I kill your bitch! I'm not only going to kill her, but rape her, and I'm going to make you and your Irish fuck watch. After you've watched her suffer, then you get to watch Patrick suffer. By the time I get to you, Kenric, you'll be begging me to let you die. I might even keep you alive a little longer so you can relive the deaths of those you love most. Just know this, bitch…I'm coming for you. You won't know when or how, but I'm coming. There are people you trust right now who are working for me, and when you figure out who they are, it will be too late. Hold those you love close while you can, Kenric. Soon, they will be dead, just like these whores at my feet."
John's eyes blackened, and all he could see was red. How dare that Italian son of a bitch threaten those he loved! Those poor women in the video had died a horrific death and all because they looked like his precious kitten. John was not only feeling rage, but he felt sadness for the victims and their families. These women had died because of Geno's hatred for John. His kitten and Patrick were also trapped in the middle of this fight because of him. The guilt he was beginning to feel was almost as strong as his rage. There was no way in fuck that John would let Geno get close to kitten, and he knew what it would take to ensure that it never happened.
"This isn't your fault, John. You had nothing to do with those women dying," Patrick said out loud, watching his brother intently. He, himself, was sickened by what he had seen but knew that John would be taking it personally. "Domenico is a sick fuck and we've known this for quite some time. There is no way in hell that he will hurt Gillian. He would have to go through us first, and the bastard is scared…has been for quite some time. Domenico knows that we are not only smarter than he is but stronger and deadlier. We just have to ensure that there are absolutely no fuck ups that allow him to get to her."
"Who do you think the rat is, boss?" Luther asked angrily. He personally would kill anyone who dared to betray John.
"I have known about a traitor in our midst for a while now," the Brit replied, still trying to digest what Patrick had said. The Irishman mentioned making sure that there were no fuck ups, but John had already done that in France. "I am pretty sure I know who it is, but I am waiting for him to make a mistake."
"So, what do you propose we do, boss man?"
"We are going to find Geno and end this bullshit before he comes to us," John replied, making eye contact with each of the men sitting at the table. "As you guys know, I have already sent Dylan Cinder and a handful of men to four of the addresses listed in the journal. Deep down, I knew the bastard wouldn't be there because he is running from me, but we have gained valuable information of his possible whereabouts from staff. I would propose that we put all of our resources into finding him and killing him once and for all."
"And how do you propose we do that, Johnny?" Patrick asked, the uncomfortable feeling already growing in his stomach. He already knew what the Brit was going to say.
"We go on an old-fashioned manhunt," John said in an icy, deadly tone.
Patrick looked at his best mate and shook his head in aversion to the idea. They had not been on a 'manhunt' since they were in their early twenties. Patrick knew, just like John, that Geno would come to them, but it would take time. If they went after the Italian, which is what Domenico wanted, then they ran the chance of losing not only the lives of their men but their lives as well. If Patrick lost John, his own life would be over. That last thought had his mind going to Gillian. In Gaelic, Patrick's eyes met John's as he asked, "And what about kitten? What do we do with her while we are on this manhunt?"