Blacklist

by Geneva Lee

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “It’s so adorable that I’ll forgive you for biting me.”

  “Biting you?”

  He sticks out his lip and I see a faint trace of blood.

  “Oh my God!” I bury my face in his neck.

  “I was kidding about forgiving you.” He presses another kiss to the top of my head. “I took it as a compliment.”

  I pull back a little to see if he’s serious, but his arms tighten like he’s holding me captive. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like your head needed to get any bigger,” I grumble, not remotely meaning it.

  His barking laugh is so honest, so genuine that I can’t help kissing him.

  “What was that for?” he asks.

  “You don’t laugh like that a lot. I like it. I need to reward it.”

  “Reward, huh?” There’s a wicked glint in his blue eyes and I wonder how far he wants to take this. I search for any apprehension inside me and find none. But I didn’t really expect my first time to be in a field.

  Still, he does deserve some attention of his own. I shove him back and climb on top of him.

  “What are you doing, Lucky?” He arches an eyebrow.

  “I promise you’ll approve.” I gather my hair in my hands and twist it into a knot on top of my head, still straddling him. Sterling’s eyes hood as he watches me.

  “Whatever you’re doing, I like the view.” He crosses his arms behind his head, relaxing into the afternoon and closing his eyes. I bend down and kiss him, moving quickly down his jaw before shimmying down his long body, leaving kisses in my wake. Everything about Sterling is new, but so is this.

  He’s undiscovered territory, and I want to escape into him.

  A tiny voice in my head reminds me that I have no idea what I’m doing. I lock her away and let my body guide me. When I reach the button on his jeans, I’m glad he’s on his back so he can’t see my fingers tremble as I undo it. Anxiety clashes with excitement as I unzip his pants and zero in on his dick. I run my hand across it, over his boxers and it grows in size—a feat I would not have thought possible because he already seems so rock hard. Hooking my fingers around the elastic band, I draw them down enough to free him.

  I’ve seen a naked man before.

  I’ve never seen one that looks like this.

  I study him for a second, hoping my instinct takes over again.

  “Does it pass inspection?” he asks dryly, craning his neck a little to see me.

  “Shh!” I hush him. “I’m making a friend.”

  This earns another laugh. “He’s more than a friend where you’re concerned. He’s your servant.”

  I dip my lips to cover the broad tip, swirling it with my tongue. Sterling’s smart-ass commentary ceases instantly replaced by a grunt of pleasure. The sound inspires me and I try to earn another one, then a groan. I keep going licking and kissing and sucking until he’s moaning my name.

  “I’m going to…” His warning comes out in pants. Sterling clutches my hair in his hand and bucks against me. I keep my mouth over him, surprised a little as heat floods across my tongue. When he finally goes slack against the blanket, I climb back on top of him. He wraps his arms around me and holds me.

  “You really are my lucky charm,” he whispers. I can hear the grin in his voice.

  “It was okay?” I dare to ask.

  He strains his neck so he can look at me. “Better than okay. You’ve done that before, right?”

  I bite my lip, hesitating for a second, before shaking me head.

  “You haven’t…” Sterling stares at me and I see him realize what I’m saying. “Have you done other things?”

  “Some,” I say, feeling a little defensive.

  “Adair.” He says my name strangely. “Are you a virgin?”

  “Don’t act so surprised,” I huff, deciding that being offended looks cooler than being embarrassed. “I told you I’m a lady.”

  He blows a thin stream of air from his lips as if he’s considering what to say to this.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I add, worried that I’m spoiling the moment.

  “Yeah, it is,” he says, surprising me. “I just…I’m glad you told me.”

  I want to die. I want to hide. I roll off him and put my arms over my face. He pulls them away.

  “Don’t do that,” he says gently. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask flatly. He’s acting like it’s a much bigger issue than it is.

  “I don’t want to push you too far, too fast,” he explains. He strokes my cheek gently, his eyes somehow even bluer than normal. “Promise me, you’ll tell me if you want me to stop?”

  I nod, an ache growing in my throat. I don’t want him to stop. Ever. I want every bit of my world to be mixed up with his. My words are small when I answer him. “What do I say if I want you to start?”

  “I think you just answered your own question, Lucky.” Then his mouth closes over mine and sweeps away everything but him and me and the wide blue sky above.

  32

  Sterling

  Present Day

  Two hours later and my blood is still up from my confrontation with Adair. Waking up to her was better than any dream, but like dreams often do, it quickly turned into a fucking nightmare.

  Zeus watches me from the living room as I pace through the penthouse. He hasn’t moved since Carly returned him an hour ago.

  “Why did I expect differently?” I ask him. “You know her. Did she treat you like this?”

  Zeus whines and tucks his paws over his eyes. Great. Not only am I talking to a dog, he’s not listening. I’m not sure why what happened bothers me so much. I don’t need Adair to like me—I don’t want her to like me. Who cares what she thinks of me?

  “Apparently, you do,” I answer my own question.

  It shouldn’t change a fucking thing about my plan. I can’t let it. The MacLaines deserve retribution for everything their family has done. The list of their sins is long enough to stretch across half of Nashville. I’ve been called a mercenary, a murderer, a liar. I’m all those things. But I have a code and so do my brothers. Some lines we refuse to cross.

  I should have dumped her at the Eaton last night or driven her back home despite her protests. Sentimentality is for fools and greeting cards. It’s not getting the better of me again. And then she acted hurt as she left? As though I’d wounded her. After all these years, she’s still chaos—as impossible to withstand as a tornado. One minute she’s accusing me of taking advantage of her. The next she’s hurt that I didn’t? I should know better than to try to make any sense of her. Sanity starts at home and Adair has always lived in a cuckoo clock.

  My phone rings and I answer it immediately, half-expecting it to be her. “Yeah?”

  “I have a special guest waiting for you,” Jack says. “Luca arranged a location for you to meet up.”

  I’d nearly forgotten that he grabbed Oliver last night for a little chat. “Text me the address.”

  I hang up and grab my keys. I need to blow off some steam and Oliver needs a wake-up call. The timing is perfect. It’s time to cross one name off my list.

  * * *

  The warehouse, tucked into an older, industrial section of Nashville, looks abandoned from the outside. A few windows are broken out, leaving behind their jagged memories. Someone’s tagged the receiving dock’s door. No one’s bothered with this place in a while. No one reputable, at least.

  It’s times like these that I’m grateful for my stint in the military. Compartmentalization. It’s a valuable skill to have at the moment. My thoughts keep jumping to Adair but once I’m inside, in my element, I’ll be free of them. Right now, she’s a siren song I can’t resist.

  None of that matters here. Someone cut the bolt on a thick lock and left the chain dangling. It’s practically an invitation. Trust Luca to have the perfect spot for a meeting with an unwilling associate. It’s a particular talent of the DeAngelos
to have their own safe houses in major cities. I shouldn’t be surprised that even in Nashville, a city that’s largely managed to avoid the attention of organized crime, there’s one. There’s a lot of money in this town—more than most people realize—and it won’t stay unnoticed for long.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say when I spy Jack in the shadows. In a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt he blends in nicely, but he doesn’t belong here. He wants out of this life. Maybe I’d crossed a boundary asking him to nab Oliver. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “You know that I have a special interest in these sorts of negotiations,” he says.

  I do know that. Jack loves a minute alone with a man who breaks his moral code. I’ve been in the room for some of his chats with these monsters. I doubt the men were ever the same. He’s doing the world a favor when he takes an interest in these cases, but it was like watching Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The Jack that I knew with his easy smile and simple ambitions turns ruthless and cold. It’s the same monster inside all of us. It’s what bound us together years ago. No matter how far we’ve come, it’s still there. Jack fights his monster. Luca embraces his. Me? I use mine.

  You don’t wind up in a uniform at nineteen without some emotional baggage. We’re living proof.

  “I’m not staying, but I wanted to personally deliver this piece of shit,” he says, sounding somewhat apologetic.

  “I understand.” More than that, I respect it.

  “Luca is already in there. “ He tilts his head to a room behind him.

  “Did you forget what happens if you leave a cat alone with a mouse?” I ask, looking toward the door behind him.

  “He’s bored,” Jack warns me. “He says you invited him to play, but you haven’t provided much entertainment.”

  “The art of subtlety is lost on him,” I say dryly.

  “How did last night go after you left?” he asks.

  So much for keeping today’s events in tidy compartments. “I fed her, put her to bed, and this morning she accused me of attacking her.”

  “She seems complicated.” Jack chooses his words carefully. He always does.

  “You were the one asking me if I was having second thoughts,” I point out. Maybe now he can see exactly why she made it to the top of my blacklist.

  “Have you ever considered that if two people just talked—without lying to each other—they might discover their bullshit stories only hurt themselves?” he asks.

  “How wise,” I say. “You should write a book.”

  “I saw the way you looked at her,” he says.

  “Like I hate her?” I ask.

  Jack laughs, but it sounds hollow. “You know it’s not true what they say. There is no thin line between love and hate. There’s no line at all. It’s all mixed up together.”

  “I can see why you’re single.”

  “Whatever.” He shrugs like I’m a lost cause. “Tell yourself what you want. Maybe you do hate her, but you definitely still love her.

  “That doesn’t change anything.” I decided that much as soon as I saw her at the funeral. Adair will never learn. She’ll hurt and ruin everyone around her in the name of destroying herself. And they’ll pay the price while she remains unscathed. “Look, I better head in there before he eats Oliver for dinner.”

  Jack grips my hand, bumping his shoulder against mine before he takes his leave. It’s a show of solidarity and support. He might be walking a different path than Luca and I now, but we’ll always be brothers. Even if he questions my endgame.

  There’s no doubt in my mind that Oliver deserves what’s coming to him though. When I scribbled the original list down on a redeye from London to Dulles, I’d penciled his name at the bottom of the notepad. At the gala, he’d moved himself to the top. Too much money. Not enough consequences. A particularly off-putting brand of privilege. Like too many in Valmont, he sees the world in categories. Namely two: those that belong at the top of the food chain like him and everyone else who is there for the taking. I know where I’m seen on that ladder, even now. None of them realize it’s an illusion. Money doesn’t keep them safe. It might buy time, but karma always finds her mark and the bitch calls me to make them pay.

  Luca hands me a latte when I step into the room.

  “I thought we should commemorate our first day on the new job,” he says. We toast our paper cups.

  “It’s good to be back in the office,” I say dryly. “I see you got the place in order.”

  “When you have a talent, you use it,” he says with pride. His tastes tend toward the theatrical. Why bother with simple revenge when you can make it a spectacle? That seems to be his modus operandi. Traditionally, his family relied on old school methods of persuasion and punishment: breaking legs for nonpayment, disappearing members that rat them out. Luca brought a flair to the operation that made him in demand throughout the entire syndicate.

  The scene is set before me, perfectly laid out to deliver maximum impact for our message. He’s placed an old bed with a rusty metal frame against a crumbling wall. Its mattress is covered in stains I’d rather not think about. The guest of honor is handcuffed to it, stripped to his underwear. There’s a bag over his head. Jack brought him here from the bar with it on. Oliver’s got no idea who took him or where he is. All he can go on is the dank smell of mold and the sound of scurrying rats all around him. He’s spent the whole evening frightened and helpless. There’s a certain poetry to it. In truth, he deserves worse.

  “You sure you don’t want me to kill him?” Luca asks loudly. He picks up two baseball bats and hands me one.

  There’s a whimper from the black bag.

  “That won’t be necessary this time. I’m sure that after our chat, he is going to be a good little boy.” The trouble in working with an assassin is that they always want to kill the target. I guess it never feels like the job is complete until they have. Not that Luca doesn’t follow a code. He does. It’s just a bit looser than Jack’s.

  Jack is trying to balance out his karma. Luca doesn’t care about that. He embraced his dark side a long time ago. Now he’s going straight to hell on a full-ride scholarship.

  “Mr. Hawthorne,” I call, circling the end of the bed. He strains toward the sound of my voice. I can imagine what he’s thinking. He’s wondering if this is a ransom situation or if he’s about to die. I enjoy letting him wonder. I enjoy letting him worry. He’s never had to before and that’s how someone like him rots from the inside out. No one’s been around to pluck him from his lofty spot at the top of the tree. The world thinks he’s shiny and perfect—a good apple. I know what lurks on the inside: the worms and decay. “It’s a crime to drug women. Don’t you know that?”

  “I haven’t done that,” he protests in a muffled voice.

  I smash the bat against the metal rails and he cries out, shaking in his cuffs. I wait for him to stop screaming. “Try again.”

  “I have money.”

  Luca laughs at this. “Join the club. Now answer the teacher or we’ll have to take minutes away from recess. It’s a crime to drug women. Don’t you know that?”

  “I know,” Oliver says.

  “That’s better. Are you having a good time, Mr. Hawthorne? Now, be honest,” I urge him.

  His head shakes. “Please. I have a family.”

  “A brother,” Luca says. “I think we might have to talk to him at some point.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we will,” I confirm.

  “Leave him out of this,” Oliver demands.

  “See this is what you don’t seem to be comprehending,” I say, moving closer and pressing the top of the baseball bat to his chest. “You don’t get to make demands. You don’t order people around. Other people do not exist for your whims. If I want to go and have a little chat with your brother, I will.”

  “Don’t,” he pleads. He’s starting to get the message.

  “I didn’t hear the magic word.” Luca runs his bat along the top of the slats, and Oliver
shrinks down as though he can hide.

  “Please,” he says.

  “It looked painful to say that.” I imagine he’s never used the word before. “You spend your life thinking you can buy whatever and whoever you want. Not anymore. I know about the drugs.”

  “I haven’t done that for years,” he insists. “I was just a stupid kid back then.”

  “This is my courthouse, and I’m the judge. There’s no statute of limitations here,” I tell him.

  “I’ll do anything.” He tugs against his handcuffs.

  “We’re not going to kill you.” I’m starting to get annoyed with Oliver’s pessimism. It’s getting in the way of my lesson. Next to me, Luca’s grin droops. I guess he was hoping I’d change my mind. “At least not yet. I believe in second chances.”

  “I promise, I’ll never do it again,” he says quickly.

  “What you’re feeling now is nothing compared to what they felt. You’re not a man. You’re an insect. Do know what happens to insects, Mr. Hawthorne? They wind up under a boot. You don’t want to meet me if I have my boots on.” I let that threat linger until he knows I mean it. “And you’re going to donate one million dollars to the women’s clinic at Valmont University.”

  “How am I going to explain why I’m doing it?” he asks.

  “Tell them it’s reparations,” I say coolly.

  “That would ruin my life!”

  “Just like you ruined theirs. You’re still not getting it, are you? This is getting off easy. You’re not in real danger unless I let my friend here take over,” I add just to see him tremble. “You’ve only lost control for one night of your life. One night spent helpless, but still safe. No one’s hurt you. No one’s violated you. The most you’ve lost is your dignity. You deserve to lose a lot more. You’ll make the donation. Say what you want about why, but we’re watching you.”

  “Otherwise, have you ever considered joining a monastery?” Luca asks. “It might be your safest option if you don’t make that donation.”

  “I’ll do it,” Oliver says, sounding defeated “Just let me go.”