Asshole.
I bought into his highhanded bullshit. What choice did I have? If there was a snowball’s chance in hell of driving O’Brien back to Boston and away from the fight scene, I had to pull up my big girl panties and get cracking.
Mac stayed out of it for the most part, all except the syndicate shit. I gladly left that to him and Ferdi. I didn’t need to know the intricate details of the vetting process or the underground railroad of mafia logistics. By day, we operated as a war council, sharing theories and different viewpoints. I never thought for a second I would feel such a sense of comradery amongst these men, a sense of belonging, but I did. They treated me as one of them instead of an outsider looking in. Dare I say, part of the family? I know, that sounded ridiculous even to my own ears.
Mac fronted the necessary cash, assigned a dedicated group of guys to do my bidding, listened to my incessant whining and fears of failure. Whatever my little heart desired, he made it happen. I’d planned everything, down to the tiniest of details. The only thing left was the event itself. I wanted it to be spectacular. More importantly, I wanted Darragh to beat the brakes off that asshole O’Brien and send him back to Boston and away from me. Business was Mac’s one true passion, and it was within my power to give that to him, to help him prosper. I didn’t want to let him down.
I took a seat on the edge of the bed in the guest room dressed in one of the few stylish sweat suits Mac had provided for me. Seeing as I was stuck in his penthouse for the foreseeable future since it wasn’t safe for me to return home to retrieve my own, more clothing had arrived over the course of the last few days. I had no say in the selections. Mac had a certain style, and since I represented him in all things, he expected me to graciously accept his kind generosity as his invited guest.
That was me, alright.
His hapless interloper.
I still had time before I was supposed to get ready, so I stole a few moments alone. Lord knows I needed it. So many things had changed in my life. I barely recognized it from all it used to be, and it hadn’t even been a month since my initial confinement. I learned from Maribel that Nipsy had fired me from the diner. Truth be told, he’d fired all of us. Apparently, he had enough of our “female bullshit with asshole men fucking up his fine establishment and costing him money, making it so he’d never be able to retire.” His words exactly. Costa Rica was calling his name, so he decided to take an impromptu vacation, closing Nipsy’s until he returned. The only good thing about that whole situation was his pledge to pay our salaries in the interim.
Let it not be said that the old bastard wasn’t fair.
An asshole, but fair.
And while that was disappointing news, it barely registered as a blip on my fuck-o-meter. I blamed my current state of despondency on a little-known disease I’d dubbed Nocturnal Mac-psychosis. Its symptoms were most prevalent between the hours of midnight and six in the morning. As of today, there was no known cure. The sad thing about this mysterious psychosis was its multitude of side effects. Fatigue, aching bones, sore lips, difficulty urinating, and my favorite, mental instability compounded by delusions. The second the clock struck six in the morning, the fog lifted from my brain, my pussy managed its greedy appetite, and the disease dissipated enough that I felt like my old self again.
Until the disorder flared up again.
Damn you, Nocturnal Mac-psychosis!
We’d spent every night together, touching, caressing, learning what felt good and what left us gasping for our next breath. He told me I belonged to him while he fucked me long and slow, his eyes never leaving mine, burning my spirit from the inside out. I allowed myself the pleasure of letting go during those times, to open myself up to whatever he had to give without claiming more for myself. It was stupid and foolish to think that I could one day mean something to this hardened criminal, yet at night, when it was just the two of us, I imagined.
Bella held his heart once, and she’d squandered it without mercy. He’d changed because of her, yet some part of him still loved her. Why else would he be going to such lengths? I’d sensed it the night we went to O’Brien’s fights, and I’d felt it the morning she’d called his cell.
He’d tried to be discrete, replying in hushed tones and one-word answers. I lay their next to him feigning sleep, sucking back the gasps that lodged deep within my throat, but I heard the whole thing. The secretive plan they made to meet up later that day at the warehouse, alone. When he got ready to leave, he lied straight to my face, said he had to attend to some business in town, never once mentioning Bella O’Brien’s name. I had the choice to call him on his bullshit, demand he tell me where he was really going, but I didn’t. It was then I realized my true position as fill-in, and I’d been more than a little distant ever since.
“You nervous about tonight, kitty cat?” Mac startled me from the doorway. Geez…how long had I been sitting here daydreaming?
“Maybe a little.” I fiddled with the duvet. “Okay…maybe a lot. This thing could blow up in our faces, a complete flop like the movie Glitter, and it would be all my fault.” He didn’t need to know that the fights weren’t the only thing causing me stress.
Mac chuckled and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.
Damn, he was beautiful.
“First of all, calm down,” he commanded. “You have no reason to be concerned. Everything is as it should be, thanks to our careful planning. Secondly, there’s no way this thing is going to flop. Preliminary numbers are already rolling in. Bookmakers started taking bets from anonymous players two days ago, and we’re already trending in the black.”
“What if nobody shows up or we don’t have enough fighters, then what?”
“Impossible.” He smirked. “Interest was through the roof. We had to turn enough guys away that if we added a second night, we’d still have too many. Seems your instincts were right. People were tired of watching the same old steroid freaks pounding each other’s brains out. They all wanted a change in the action.”
That was a surprise to me. I had no idea so many of Remington’s average Joes would be interested in underground fighting. Still didn’t help the fluttering of unwanted nerves and queasiness rolling around in my stomach. I reached for my cell phone and noticed it was time to start getting ready. Mac’s voice caught me off guard.
“I have something for you.” He stepped out for a second then returned with a black garment bag with the name Dolce & Gabbana printed across the front. My breath hitched in my throat.
“Mac.” I exhaled, flummoxed. “You didn’t have to…”
“You earned it,” he insisted. “Something special for all your hard work.”
Right…business, I thought to myself but didn’t say it out loud.
I slowly unzipped the bag and laid eyes on its contents. Inside was the most stunning cocktail dress I had ever seen. Black marbled velvet with a strong, beautiful sheen, spaghetti straps. Its length ended just below the knee. Elegance personified. It knocked the fucking wind out of me, and I found it difficult to keep my eyes from misting. Why had he bought me such a gift? Was it really payback for hard work or something else? It wouldn’t be the first time a man had given me a handout right before the big kiss-off. Sadly, I was used to it.
I suddenly felt the makings of a headache dancing its way behind my eyeballs. My hand shook as I delicately placed the bag down next to me on the bed so as not to wrinkle it. I took a deep breath. This was it. Once O’Brien was forced back into his hole following tonight’s fights, I could go on about my life as usual. Threat neutralized. Mac would be back on top and running his crime syndicate as if he’d never met me.
I tried to shake off those morose feelings, but it wasn’t happening. I felt the need to scream at the top of my lungs for Mac to choose me, keep me, fall in love with me. The reality was he’d made up his mind long before I entered the picture. Everything he’d achieved, every deal he’d made, every life he’d taken, he’d done it for her. Tonight would be his final screw
you to the man who’d stolen his reason for being while I stood by and watched it happen.
And…life goes on.
“Thank you, Darragh, it’s beautiful.” I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I have something else to go along with the dress, Otelia. Call it…an accessory, if you will. I think you might enjoy this gift ten times better,” he alluded.
Mac reached into his pants pocket and produced a black square box, larger than the average size made to hold a ring. I looked upon it curiously before taking it from his outstretched hand. It wasn’t very heavy, which was odd, and the look on his face gave nothing away. I flipped the top slowly, as if its contents would somehow jump out and scare the shit out of me. The tiny springs creaked, which was the only noise that could be heard aside from my beating heart. The first thing I noticed was a sparkle as it gleamed from the top of an oval diamond-encrusted jewel. I thought it was a brooch of some sort until I pulled it out completely. A wave of pleasure burst from between my legs while I stared at the lovely trinket.
“Holy fuck.” His brows shot together at my use of profanity. “Is this what I think it is?”
“A little something… I deserve, for all your hard work,” he explained huskily.
I was taken aback by his outlandish offering, but not entirely surprised. Mac had been hinting for some time now in precise detail his intention to claim every part of me. He couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to make his play if he’d tried.
“Um…thanks, Mac, for the bedazzled anal plug…” I remarked softly. “Perhaps in another life, when things aren’t so up in the air with O’Brien.” And with us, I wanted to add.
He pushed himself off the doorframe faster than I thought humanly possible and stood a hairsbreadth away. I didn’t dare look at him for fear he would see the trepidation in my eyes, the battle within myself to keep my feelings of distrust at arm’s length. I should’ve known he wouldn’t allow me to hide in the open; it was his play, after all.
“Stand up, Otelia,” he growled impatiently.
With a heavy sigh, I obeyed. Mac reached for my shoulders and roughly whirled me around to face the bed, knees against the mattress. His warm breath blew along my neck in a harsh pant that matched my own ragged wheezing. I felt his body heat along my posterior. I shivered despite the lack of chill in the air.
“I need you on your A-game tonight and not worrying about incidental bullshit, Otelia.”
“It’s not that easy, Mac. I’m—”
“It’s just that easy,” he cut me off. “Let me help you with that.”
He peppered soft kisses below my ear as his thumbs probed along the elastic of my sweats, sliding the pants from my hips. I stood stock-still as Mac reached around me for the plug I was holding and removed it from the box. The anticipation of what he was about to do became too much. I felt the wetness as it pooled between my legs. Warmth flooded my neck and ass cheeks.
With a splayed hand between my shoulder blades, he wordlessly guided me forward towards the mattress. Ass lifted high in the air, bent at the waist, I prepared for the rough invasion of my forbidden hole that never came.
“I commissioned this piece with you in mind, Otelia. Hand crafted with forty-eight precious jewels to commemorate those first hours we spent together.”
Warm, soft, tender lips tickled the curve along my spine so unexpectedly, my knees nearly gave out. My nipples hardened painfully against the fabric of the bed. I wanted nothing more than to feel his large hands pinch and squeeze the pebbled flesh until the ache eased. This unhurried and deliberate torture was so unlike the beast who normally took me roughly each night. His delicate care bought tears to my eyes, it was that beautiful.
“Please, Darragh. I can’t take much more. You’re fucking killing me.” I mewled shamelessly and wiggled my ass against his muscled thighs, hoping to entice him enough to put me out of my misery.
It didn’t.
The bastard.
“The only thing you need to worry about tonight is what’s going to happen to this ass once I stick my dick in it after the fights. Earning stacks of cash and the prospect of fucking this luscious asshole will have me walking around with a semi all night.”
“Mmm…I think we should…you know…take the edge off a little.”
“Sorry, no time.”
I moaned when I felt his tongue lapping at one of my cheeks before he bent at the knee and spread me open. I sprung up to my full height with his sudden invasion to the sound of his deep seductive chuckle.
“Relax,” he coaxed, the hand on my back guiding me back down. “I deserve this, remember? Fortune favors the bold, kitty cat. Don’t be afraid. I would kill before I let anything or anyone hurt you again. That includes myself.”
Shouldn’t he have said, “die” and not “kill?”
I resumed the position on shaky legs, fearful of what was about to happen, hopeful it would happen quickly, and eager to feel that sense of fullness his actions were sure to bring.
Mac peppered more kisses on my ass cheeks until the squirming started again. That’s when I felt the stream of wetness that started from my tailbone and trickled down over my forbidden hole. I should have been grossed out at the realization that Mac’s saliva was making its way down my ass crack, but once I felt the cool tip of the plug as it entered unhurriedly, a guttural moan exploded from nowhere.
Holy shitballs.
That felt amazing.
“Now,” Mac announced abruptly, ending my torment, “get that ass moving. We have a show to put on.”
Smack.
This was going to be a long-ass night.
Pun intended.
CHAPTER 37
MacCabe
“YOU KNOW DAMN well Mac doesn’t play that shit, Tommy. Do what that fuck I told you and stop whining like a bitch.”
“Yes? No, no, no. It’s the blue one on the left, the larger one.”
“I already told you no, muscle head. Mac wants style, not substance.”
“If he doesn’t know how to put on the gloves, you need to show him. He’s a construction worker, for Christ sakes, not Muhamad Ali.”
“I’m on my way over there. Mac is going to shit a brick when he finds out how bad you fucked this up, Jones. Count on it!”
I listened to Otelia through the wireless headset in my ear as she barked out orders to my men. What surprised me more was that they actually listened without giving pushback to the mouthy woman. They called her by that ridiculous nickname and jumped to attention quicker than shit, as if it were me giving the command and not her. She was made for the business, tough as nails, driven to a fault, and loyal to one man only. There wasn’t a single directive that didn’t have mine or my business’s best interests at heart. Atop the mezzanine, looking over the empire I built, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride for the beautifully resilient woman.
My woman.
“Looks like Jonesy over there has a little crush,” Ferdi remarked, saddling up next to me. “Your woman must be a real nut buster if she can handle that wild boar with a delicate style.”
My woman.
I watched the big man, Jones, as he towered over Otelia, stating his case while she tsked him with her hands on her slim hips. He never stood a chance.
“You have no idea,” I replied with a smirk.
“Excuse me.” He jerked back, grinning stupidly. “No objections to my calling her your woman? No ‘She’s just a business transaction’, or ‘Stay out of my bedroom’, or ‘Shut the fuck up, Ferdi?’ Dare I say the mighty Darragh MacCabe is sprung?”
“Don’t you have something better to do besides bust my balls?”
“Not this minute, I don’t.” He clapped me on the back. “Besides, I like your balls. It makes me happy seeing Odie carrying them around in her bra all night. Oh, wait, she’s not wearing one.”
“Keep looking, and you’re going to need an ocular prosthesis when I snatch one of your eyeballs out and squeeze it between my fingers.”
“Ouch. Du
ly noted, Cochise.”
As predicted, my dick sported a semi inside my pants as I watched Otelia sashay her sexy ass over towards the bar. Only I knew what was hidden beneath her skirt waiting for my hard cock at the end of the night. I inwardly moaned when I thought about the dirty shit I planned to do to her at the conclusion of the fights. Ferdi was right about one thing: she was my woman in every sense of the word, and I vowed to never let her go. I turned to tell him so when we were interrupted by the vibration of his cell phone. Ferdi took his call while my attention drifted back to the happenings below.
“Motherfucker!” he growled into the headset.
My shoulders bunched at his outburst. I immediately knew something was wrong.
“Find out what you can and hit me back the minute you do!” he yelled. “I don’t give a fuck what you have to do. Get me that intel ASAP!”
“What is it?” I approached on high alert.
“Somebody took out Kallum O’Brien. Two shots to the chest, one to the head, small caliber bullet.” Ferdi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck! You know what this means, Darragh.”
I knew.
“We have less than an hour,” he affirmed.
“I’ll be ready.”
I took one last pensive look at Otelia, shouldered my way past Ferdi, and headed towards the office. The roar of the crowd did little to falter my steps. Any other time, it would have been a relief, but not tonight. Everyone had enemies in this game. If you didn’t, you were doing something wrong. It wasn’t a secret that O’Brien and I had a beef. I’d threatened to kill him publicly on more than one occasion, and not only because of the fights. The day he’d announced his engagement to Bella, I had to be physically restrained from snapping his neck. I was a kid then, but the memory still held. My father would need to hear from me personally that I wasn’t the one responsible for the hit. As boss, he had a duty to uphold as a leader in the organization that trumped being a doting parent.
48 Mac (A Junkyard Boys Novel) Page 22