48 Mac (A Junkyard Boys Novel)

by SH Richardson

  Otelia’s earnest confessions shook my hardened soul. They opened my eyes to how I ranked things in my life in order of importance. Before she came along, it was work, an occasional piece of random pussy, then back to work. I never gave much thought to starting a family of my own, not after everything that happened with Bella. Funny thing, after listening to Otelia talk about her loss for half the night, my shit just seemed…inconsequential. Sure, Bella’s disregard drove me, but I refused to believe it was my only motivating force. I craved the power my reputation afforded me. The strength to snap my fingers and end someone’s life if I wanted them gone. My father was right though—something was missing after a long day of scrapping in the pit. The world was a dark place, but I was darker.

  I’d pegged Otelia as one of those gutless pretenders, playing the role of flirtatious damsel in distress until a rich husband came along. I was so up my own ass with that one. Fucking sickening. Her story was a sad one, but she never let it stop her. She was a feisty little kitten who wasn’t afraid to use her claws. Most importantly, she was loyal, loyal to a dead man who was once the love of her life. Her devotion lasted beyond the here and now, through the afterlife, his soul lost forever. Bella, on the other hand, had thrown in the towel before I was legally allowed to vote.

  Like I said, too much and not enough.

  Otelia stirred in her slumber. Her silken hair tickled my shoulder, prompting me to reach out and touch it. She really was something else. I needed one more taste before I left her alone to tend to her life. The thought of being away from her for any length of time caused a rumble inside my chest, and I fucking hated it. What the fuck was happening to me?

  She’d barely opened her eyes before I was between her legs, leaning down above her. She gasped in surprise before shock turned into desire, her hips widening as she relaxed.

  “Haven’t you had your fill of me yet, Mr. MacCabe?”

  “Does it feel like it, kitty cat?” I rubbed the head of my cock along her slit.

  “Pfft. Morning wood. Totally natural.” She smirked.

  Jokes, bright and early? I’d give her something to laugh about. Discarded condoms littered her nightstand, which made it easy to grab one and strap up. I reached between our joined bodies and gripped the shaft of my dick. We moaned in unison as I slammed into her wet heat, knowing she was ready to take me. I stilled before pumping into her, allowing her time to get used to the feeling of fullness.

  “So good, Darragh,” she panted.

  “Hmmm, you like that hard dick, don’t you? Yeah, you like it. I can feel your greedy pussy swallowing my cock.” I swiveled my hips just enough to get better traction. I wanted to take my time, fuck her slow and easy. She leaned up as far as she could and pressed her nose against my throat, inhaling my scent.

  “I love the way you smell, Darragh. All man with a touch of scared little boy mixed in for good measure. I can’t get enough of it.”

  My lips curled into a sinister smile. “I didn’t plan on punishing this pussy so soon, but since you can’t seem to shut the fuck up…” I eased in halfway, a tease.

  “Hmmm…then show me something, hot shot.”

  The second I slammed into her, she grabbed on to my shoulders and dug her nails into my flesh. Otelia hooked her feet above my ass, opening her pussy as far as it would go. She felt like heaven, but I wasn’t the prince in her storybook romance. She had that once, and look how well that turned out.

  “Who’s fucking you, Otelia? Whose cock is filling your tight, wet cunt?”

  “Yours, Darragh,” she mewled. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

  For some reason, it was important to me that she acknowledged it was my dick inside her and not some dead high school football player’s. My name was the only one I wanted on her lips. Hearing her say it wasn’t enough—I wanted to watch her scream it as she came undone. I scooped a hand under her ass while balancing with the other, elbow on the mattress. I flipped us over in one smooth motion without disengaging our connection. Otelia was above me, full of my cock, smiling down. She immediately leaned over and put her nose in the crux of my neck.

  “I’m starting to get a complex. Do I need to take a shower?”

  Her response was muffled against my throat. “Don’t you dare, Mac. I love the way you smell. It’s kind of an aphrodisiac.”

  Love.

  There was that word again.

  Otelia used it so freely, so effortlessly, and without bitterness. After everything that had happened in her past, not very many people could say the same. I certainly couldn’t.

  Love meant weakness, especially when it was lost due to no fault of your own, as with Bella. I shook those thoughts from my head and surged upward, reminding us both what we were doing here. Time to quit fucking around.

  I grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to sit up. “Ride me, woman.”

  “You want it slow?” The little minx lifted her hips then slowly pushed back down. Her mop of blond hair cascaded over her perfect tits. “Or… do you want it fast and hard?”

  I clutched two hands full of ass cheeks, kneaded the soft flesh through a moan, then smacked my palm down hard on one of the globes. Her teasing had me more than a little fucked up. She assumed a position of power by having me beneath her, flat on my back, helpless. But it was an illusion. I maintained total control in all things, especially fucking.

  I straightened from a prone position and pressed my back against her rickety headboard. Otelia’s perky tits were at the ideal height to align with my mouth. I latched on to one of her pebbled nipples and bit down softly, causing her back to arch even further. Her hands found purchase on my knees, and when I looked down, her swollen clit was exposed, begging for attention. I used my thumb to circle her little bundle of nerves, at the same time giving thought to her question.

  “What I want…is for you to fuck me like you would your little schoolboy if he were alive.”

  She stilled and tried to recoil. “Why would you…”

  I applied more pressure to her sweet spot, determined to keep her with me. Bringing up the dead boyfriend was a dick move. Call it morbid curiosity. I needed to know whose name she would call out when she came on my cock.

  “Fuck me like you mean it, Otelia. Like you can’t live without it, baby.”

  I attacked her mouth with my own. Our tongues, lips, and hands dueled for maximum gratification. Otelia began to move with newfound energy and purpose. She dug in deep, knees spread wide against the mattress, back arched, eyes wide open.

  She rode me hard.

  Grunting and sweating.

  We were ready to explode in mutual release.

  “That’s it, baby. You ready to come on my cock?”

  “Yes. Yes!”

  I rubbed her clit faster, feeling her inner walls as they began to tighten.

  “Come for me, Otelia.”

  “Darragh…ugh…”

  I emptied myself with a prolonged groan, and when the tremors stopped, I smiled.

  It was my name she’d screamed.

  I really was a bastard sometimes.

  CHAPTER 32

  Otelia

  NIPSY’S WAS CRAZY busy tonight.

  The city council had approved a highway expansion designated as an evacuation route in case of emergencies. The crew of construction workers sitting in booths demanding coffee had been at it since before the sun came up that morning and they were beat. They reeked of sweat and dirt, each one filthier than the last. None bothered to wash their hands before attacking their food. The site foremen promised a monetary bonus if they finished below budget and ahead of schedule. Most of them needed that money for one reason or another, so they worked twice as hard, often without eating or taking breaks. One guy fell asleep sitting straight up in his chair before I could bring him his turkey sandwich on wheat he’d ordered. I wished there was more I could do other than serve them lousy food and subpar coffee.

  “You guys are pretty worn out.” I greeted each of the men whi
le handing them a menu.

  “Fucked around and ran into some trouble today,” one of them said. “Hit a goddamn gas line left over from the sixties. Damn near blew us all to hell.”

  “Jesus, guys. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks, girl. It ain’t over yet. Shit just started. If we didn’t need that bonus cash, we probably all would’ve quit after today. Can’t spent it if you’re dead.”

  “No one would fault you for that, certainly not me.” I smiled, offering support.

  I put on a fresh pot of coffee, screaming at the kitchen staff to rush our orders, double time. They shouldn’t be made to wait any longer than they had to for some much-needed nourishment in their stomachs.

  It didn’t take them long to scarf down their meals and hurry back out to the worksite for another few hours before quitting time. The usual sexual inuendoes and ass grabbing were absent for the most part. I could’ve been butt naked wrapped in a feather boa for all they cared. Pussy was the last thing on their minds. Staying alive long enough to pay their bills was enough to keep anyone’s libido in check.

  Then it hit me.

  Holy shit

  I’m a fucking genius.

  My shift was just about over, but I was uncertain about what to do next. Mac and I had shared an amazing night slash morning before he left my bed to attend to business. I felt hopeful for the first time that I hadn’t made a mistake by opening up to him about my past. There was no doubt in my mind that I would see and feel him again. My pussy demanded it now that it’d sampled the best of the best. Nothing less would do from here on out. But that was two days ago, and I hadn’t heard shit from the elusive fight club owner since.

  We hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, but he knew where to find me if he wanted to track me down. Still, I had an idea that could help the guys in the construction crew that required special handling. Mac was the only man I knew capable of performing the task, but he had his hands full dealing with O’Brien.

  Is that why he hasn’t called?

  I cursed myself for overthinking and got back to work. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammad, then Odie must go to the mountain, that was my moto.

  Final cleanup, and I was out of there.

  The evening security guard was busy tapping away on his cell phone, and I was too damn knackered to wait around any longer. Besides, Nipsy had this place lit up like an interrogation room at Rikers Island Prison. Screw his rules about leaving unattended. I wasn’t a damn child. My car was parked less than ten feet from the doorway. Surely, I could make it without incident. The weather was beautiful tonight. A light breeze blew across my face, the sky so clear I could make out the stars twinkling in the distance. My key was in the lock of the driver’s side door when I heard my name called from behind.

  “Odie, what the fuck?” The security guard screamed as he stomped towards me. “You know better than to come out here alone. Are you trying to get me fucking fired?”

  He rushed towards me with teeth bared, pissed as all hell. His angry voice startled me so much I dropped my keys on the ground and had to bend over to retrieve them. The second my head bowed, I heard a POP, then a hiss that traveled through the air above me. The large security guard screamed out, “FUCK!” just before hitting the ground at my feet in a hunch.

  A gunshot!

  Someone was shooting at us.

  “Ohmygod!” I screamed.

  “Stay the fuck down!” he shouted.

  Blood spilled from his shoulder in rivets, wetting the front of his blue uniform. Tears of panic flooded my eyes as I reached for my purse, where I kept my cell phone. I needed to call for help, not just for me, but for the guy bleeding out on the pavement. A second shot whizzed overhead, hitting my car window and shattering it to pieces. I screamed hoping someone would hear me, and that’s when it happened.

  Somewhere close, tires screeched to an abrupt stop before a shadowy figure stepped out of the driver’s seat and immediately returned fire, two guns blazing. Dressed in all black from head to toe, Darragh MacCabe was like something out of a comic book. The only thing missing was a goddamn cape and a pair of Spandex pants. His eyes were trained on an obscured target, hands steady, never wavering, and sexy as all get out. I’d never been so happy to see anyone in my life. My body’s reaction to his presence was automatic—I felt shielded, safe, protected. If it wasn’t for the bullets flying overhead, I would’ve crawled over the broken glass and kissed his handsome face to show my gratitude.

  “Get in the fucking car, Otelia. Keep your head down,” he barked while reloading.

  “We can’t leave him, Mac. He’s going to bleed to death.”

  “Ferdi is right behind me, ETA three minutes. Now move that ass, woman.”

  “Go!” the security guard yelled, moaning through the pain. “I’m covered.”

  I crawled across the cement on my hands and knees, opened the passenger side door, then slid into the seat with my head hung low. Mac fired off three more rounds before climbing into the driver’s side in one fluid motion. He threw one of his guns on the seat near my head. I could still smell the heat coming from its barrel and what I assumed was gun powder. We took off out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell with me crouched down on the floorboards. I was amazed how Mac was able to shift gears while still holding on to one of his guns without blasting out the windshield. I made a mental note to ask him about that later.

  “Are you hit?” he snapped. “Are you bleeding?”

  “I…”

  Words failed me.

  My skin felt clammy as a bead of cold sweat traveled from my brow, down my temple, and ended below my cheek. Pressure like I’d never felt before started to build in my chest, the pain so unbearable, I could no longer suck in air. I clawed at my throat, willing it to open enough to allow a hint of much-needed oxygen to fill my lungs. Damn thing wouldn’t budge. The strangled noises coming from my side of the car must’ve alarmed Mac even though my awareness of him was obscured. I felt the grip of his hand on my arm as he tried to pull me from my huddled position. The growly timber of his voice as he cursed and spat obscenities. The jerking motion followed by the slam of breaks as we came to a full stop.

  The door was yanked open, and I was airborne.

  My feet never touched the ground.

  “Otelia!” I heard shouted. “Look at me, baby. Breathe.”

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Pressed against his warm chest, boneless and unaware, I felt our heartbeats sync as one.

  “Closer, Darragh. Hold me closer,” I wheezed.

  His glorious masculine scent perfumed the air around us, snapping my consciousness back from the depths of the unknown. The metaphorical snake uncoiled from around my chest as quickly as it began, sweet release followed on an audible gasp. I blinked to clear my head, then blinked again.

  “Darragh?” I whispered.

  Tears spang to my eyes when the first tingles of life coursed through my limbs. Even so, I refused to detract them from the expressive orbs of the man staring down at me. Vulnerability, concern, possession. It was all there, or perhaps it’d always been and I’d never noticed.

  “There she is,” he shared a relieved smile. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

  “I want to go home, Mac.”

  “I know you do, kitty cat. It won’t be long now.”

  He repeated the promised words made not long ago. This time, I knew it wasn’t possible, not while there was someone out there who wanted me dead. Mac had shown he was willing to cover my back, but was it all just business as usual for him? Stepping back into the car, I found my answer in what I knew to be true and trustworthy. Cell phone in hand, I pressed the call button and waited. Gate’s message never failed me, and I counted on that tonight.

  CHAPTER 33

  MacCabe

  MY FINGERS CLENCHED the steering wheel as I drove away from the deadly scene. If I’d arrived five minutes later, things could’ve ended much differently in that parking lot. I’d known darkness in this
life, a blast of what could only be described as a complete shutdown of my emotional consciousness, and this was not one of those times. I felt everything. Blood whooshed around between my ears, and I hadn’t taken a full breath in several long minutes. It wasn’t the adrenalin surging inside my veins that had my molars grinding to a fine dust—it was the hunger for death. My dick twitched with the pent-up need to destroy, to obliterate each and every one of those motherfuckers who dared to come for what was mine.

  They’d tried to take her from me.

  I was almost too late.

  Word came down from one of my Boston informants that O’Brien had bankrolled a two-man hit crew out of Fresno. He hired them off grid and without permission ahead of time from the organization. I was lucky to get wind of it. Bringing in outsiders for wet work wasn’t unusual, but anything that could potentially cause blowback was frowned upon. I had zero reason to believe it had anything to do with me. At this stage, I wasn’t even considered competition the way my business had faltered once he’d opened. O’Brien ran pussy and narcotics along the border states, a brutally dangerous and cutthroat racket that required a strong hand. Could’ve been a hostile takeover or a revenge hit for some supposed wrongdoing. In other words, he was into a lot of crooked shit, deadly shit, any of which could’ve warranted the contract.

  I was almost too late.

  I kept tabs on all of his bank accounts, domestic and overseas, personnel within his underground sector, and any and all chatter regarding munitions. If he scratched his ass in the crack, I wanted to know about it. We watched and waited. For two days, Ferdi tracked the hit team’s movement, west into Tennessee, then they double-backed south east and moved north through Georgia. They covered their tracks meticulously, switching between different modes of transportation and assumed names. These guys were pros. Wasn’t until they hit Remington that I knew something was wrong. This tiny fucking hick-ass town had very few players with a personal connection to O’Brien, me being one of them. It seemed likely that they were coming to eliminate the only opposition to his fights.