by Hart, Gemma
“But this also means it’s a large opportunity for us,” Agent Hadfield said, his eyes sparked with the heat of the chase. His lips twisted up in a smile as if he was a cat playing with a mouse.
I slowly nodded, seeing the picture coming together. “If you can get information on where and when the families will meet to finalize, you can bust both of them together, potentially wiping out both families,” I said, looking over the files.
There was a beat of silence.
I looked up and saw Agent Hadfield and Agent Truman staring at me in dumbfounded silence. With a little irritation, I realized they had never expected a blonde like me to put the pieces together. Having been robbed of their big punchline, Agent Truman tapped irritably on Marco Desmond’s photo.
“This is your target,” he said. “Marco Desmond is heir apparent to the Desmond Family and yet hardly anyone has any information on this fucker.” Agent Truman brushed a finger against his salt and pepper mustache, clearly annoyed at the elusiveness of Marco. “But he’s Roy’s right hand man—that much we know. You’d never get close enough to Roy Desmond to find out any information. But Marco,” Agent Truman nodded, as if pleased with his plan. “Marco is your shot.”
I looked at the photo again, feeling a swift flutter of butterflies against my stomach as I looked into those dark, hooded eyes.
“And how will I get close enough to Marco to find any information?” I asked. I could hardly just walk up to the man. The Desmond Family was notoriously careful in covering up their tracks. That was how they had remained so successful in the criminal world.
Agent Hadfield and Agent Truman exchanged covert looks. I could see the look of satisfied humor that passed between them. My spine stiffened. I could tell whatever they were about to say, I was not going to like it.
“We’ve got you an in for the Desmond Family,” Agent Hadfield said smoothly while his eyes hinted at something more. “But obviously, since Marco is our target, we need you to use your…instincts in finding a way to talk with him.”
“Instincts?” I echoed.
Agent Truman nodded, giving a suggestive shrug. “You know, womanly instincts,” he said, barely being able to hold back a snicker. “Marco is a notorious womanizer. I assume it wouldn’t be too out of reach for you to catch his eye.”
So that was why they wanted me on the case. They didn't want me for my skills, experience, or even eagerness to train as a field operative.
They wanted me for my looks. For my body.
I stared at the two men. “You want me to seduce the son of the most powerful crime family in possibly all of the Western world,” I said, staring at them.
Agent Hadfield and Truman didn’t even hesitate.
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
“Will you do it?” Agent Truman asked, looking over his mustache at me.
I stared at the photo of the jaguar personified.
This was my first chance at a field mission. Sure, they didn't pick me because of my qualifications or potential as a field agent but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t show them all of those things while working this case.
Sexism might’ve gotten me the case but I’ll show them that my brains and skills are what will accomplish it.
I nodded. “Yes,” I said, breathing out slowly. “I will.”
Chapter Two
Marco
The hazy, smoky room is filled with the grunts of men and the soft, alluring laughter of women.
I looked at my cards before I threw in my chips. The man next to me looks at his cards, hesitating on whether he wanted to match my raise.
“Oh, come on, you pussy!” Roy said in his grizzly jabbing tone. He hacked a laugh before taking another long draw on his cigar. “Put your money where your mouth is!”
A woman with brassy red hair and wide red lips hung around Roy’s neck, laughing as if Roy had just said the cleverest thing in the world. I used to feel anger at the sight—my father sitting at the head of the table, lording over this supposedly casual poker night when, in fact, it was forced, while he had one woman or another dangling off of him.
The women were all the same too. Any woman that stood around the Desmond Mafia were looking for some kind of notoriety and a definite kind of pay out. This redhead must have been Roy’s flavor of the month judging by the sparkling diamond earrings that peeked through her hair.
Yeah, this used to annoy the shit out of me.
But now I could care less. Any kind of real emotion had been burned out of me long ago and now all I could see was an aging man filled anger and paranoia. Paranoia comes naturally to those who rise to supreme power. And that’s what Roy Desmond had. Although situated in Los Angeles, the man ruled pretty much the entire country through his extensive crime syndicate.
And no one knew better than me how extensive that web really was. I was born into this life of danger and crime. This rough and toxic air of criminality was the first breath I took. And, I thought as I watched Roy chew disgustingly on his soggy cigar, it’ll probably end up being the last thing I breathe as well.
Most men thought that as the son of the powerful Roy Desmond, I lived the life of a prince.
It couldn’t be further from the truth.
Roy Desmond had not wanted children. My mother, another one of his random flavors of the month, had also not wanted children. But once she had gotten pregnant, the idea of a son a legacy took root in Roy’s head and he essentially forced my mother from terminating the pregnancy.
She had agreed to not have an abortion as long as after she gave birth, she would be given ten million dollars and never have to see me again. Last I heard, she was living in a Rio de Janeiro, enjoying the life of a queen.
Roy had then been my only parent and guardian though neither word suited him. He had made sure he raised a son worthy of the Desmond name.
“You aren’t born with shit,” he used to say to me growing up. “You aren’t a Desmond until I say you’re a Desmond. And until then, you’re just some whore’s bastard son that I’m keeping clothed and fed. So you shut the fuck up and learn your role.”
According to him, the Desmond name had to be earned. And if I wanted to earn it, I had to show him I was tougher than any other son of a bitch that walked through the Desmond Mafia doors.
From as soon as I could walk, I never went a day without having my body mottled with bruises. Roy wanted to make sure his son knew that if you’re pushed and beaten, you need push and beat back harder.
And before I was eighteen, I was thrown in with the lower rank and file men of the Desmond Mafia. Going under one of soon to be many aliases, I was introduced as some new guy. I got the same rough hazing and dangerous grunt work as everyone else.
Some of the higher ranking men in the Family had worried about throwing the heir to the Desmond Mafia onto the streets.
“What if he gets busted?” one of the men would ask. “What if he gets picked up?”
Roy would snort and then turn his cold gaze on whoever had dared to question his judgment. “Then we just got rid of some deadweight,” he would reply in a steely voice. “Ain’t no real son of mine going to be stupid enough to get caught doing some bum work. If he can’t do that, then he could never run the Family.”
“Aww shit!” Roy cried out loudly as he threw his cards down with disgust after seeing my straight.
I carefully stacked my winnings. I was thousands of dollars ahead of everyone else at the table, including Roy. Roy Desmond only played high stakes poker. The minimum buy in started at $10,000.
After stacking up the chips, I leaned back in my seat and stretched. I could feel Roy’s eyes on me.
“One lucky son of a bitch tonight, aren’t you?” he said, his voice slipping a few octaves.
I knew what that tone usually meant. It meant he was very near flying into one of his rages.
I kept it a point to avoid as many of these poker gatherings as possible. Roy was too volatile these days to be in tight quarters with. But as hi
s son, I couldn’t avoid it altogether.
I looked at the older man. It was funny. It was thanks to him that I had ended up becoming the Family’s best hitman. After rising up in the ranks, I began being trusted with harder and more sensitive assignments. I was an expert in hand to hand and could take out a man either from thirty feet away or three inches away.
Not only had I learned from the best but I eventually exceeded the best. Soon any sensitive jobs were only entrusted into my care. Everyone knew I did the quickest and best work of any hit. A good part of the reason why the Desmond Mafia was the largest and most successful crime family was because of all the other competitors I had personally taken out.
In the smoky den with its dark burgundy and brown interiors, I could easily throw Roy down onto the ground, wrap my hand around his jowly neck and clamp down till I felt his carotid artery slow down to a standstill.
But instead I stood up.
“Your words, not mine,” I said.
One of the men near me snickered. I could see anger and annoyance fight across Roy’s face. He wanted to shout me down or throw me out. But of course, now he couldn’t do that.
I was older. I was stronger. And I was too valuable.
We were in a tight stalemate with each other and neither of us liked it.
A woman came up from behind me, running her hands down my arm as she breathed against my neck. Her perfume wafted around me.
Victoria.
I rarely remembered the names of the women who populated the Family’s compound. There were so many of them. And they all wanted the same things—attention, sex, money, notoriety. They were all interchangeable.
But a few of the memorable ones stuck in my mind. Victoria always had the huskiest groans when I made her come. And it never failed to make my cock twitch hearing that sound.
And after a night of tense poker with Roy, I was ready to find some release. I grab the woman around her waist, ready to leave.
“Don’t forget about the Dynally job,” Roy suddenly said, his voice sounding casual and relaxed. I turned around.
Of course I wouldn’t forget. I never forgot a job. Nor did I fail them. Trevor Dynally, one of our lead drug producers had recently tried to undercut our product so that he could sell himself out to another competitor.
Fucking idiot. Didn’t he know there was no competitor against the Desmond Mafia?
And now he would pay for his mistake. His fatal mistake.
I looked at Roy who leaned back in his seat. His hefty weight settling comfortably around him. He gave me a knowing smile that was both threatening and leering.
“Just a reminder,” he said, shrugging one shoulder, his cigar hanging off his bottom lip. “We wouldn’t want any bad consequences to happen in case you forgot, would we?”
My shoulders immediately tightened and I felt my throat clench. When Roy Desmond wants to put you in your place, he’ll find a way to do that.
Jamie.
I gave an abrupt nod, letting him take this round. I left the room, nearly dragging Victoria out with me.
***
“Baby, you’re all tense,” Victoria murmured in her husky voice as she massaged my shoulders. Her hands squeezed my stiff muscles as she leaned in towards me, her lips gently kissing right where her hands had just been.
But no matter how much she massaged me, I knew this tension, this anger, wouldn’t leave. Not tonight.
Spending any amount of time with Roy always put me in a bad mood. Even in the privacy of my own large suite of rooms, I could feel the tension pulling my body as tight as a violin string.
With a growl, I pulled Victoria around and pushed her up close to me. She gave a little gasp at the suddenness of my movement but she quickly recovered and smiled up at me.
It was a warm and seductive smile, one to make a man’s blood boil and his cock harden. But tonight, it was only a reminder of the world around me. Victoria had no allegiance to any man. She was only interested in who offered her the shiniest gift or gave her the prettiest dress.
And sometimes, she was interested in the man who made her scream her voice hoarse from coming.
I shouldn’t let it bother me so much. I had come to grips with the reality of my future long ago. I was born to be an assassin, a crime lord, a killer. It was literally in my blood.
The world of deadly deals and fake whores was all part of it.
But so be it. I didn’t have to like it. I just had to accept it. And I did. Countless women had walked through my bedroom doors. Maybe it was a way to cope. Or maybe I was just a fucking man whore. Who the fuck cared?
I ran my hand up through Victoria’s thick black hair before fisting it tightly, jerking her head back slightly.
“Take off that dress,” I said quietly, pinning her with my gaze.
I could see Victoria’s lips quiver in anticipation.
“Yes, daddy,” she whispered breathily.
She quickly stripped for me, revealing her well endowed body. Her long, tan body was curvy with huge tits that were never, ever covered.
I took off my shirt and carelessly threw it aside. I stepped out of my pants and immediately Victoria’s hawkish gaze zeroed in on my cock. It was only at half mast but clearly it was still impressive enough for Victoria to lick her lips in readiness.
I stepped up towards her, putting my hands on her shoulders and pushing her with steady pressure. She took the hint and fell to her knees. With an open, eager mouth, she took my cock. With her expert tongue, she quickly made me groan as my cock hardened to its full length.
Pushing against the back of her head, I roughly thrust my cock in and out of her wet mouth, reveling in the feel of her throat. Victoria’s long fingers wrapped around my thighs, both welcoming me and warning me.
Finally, I pushed her away. She stumbled back, gasping.
But before I could give her a chance to catch her breath, I picked her up and threw her bodily onto my bed. She gave out a breathy whoop of surprise, her eyes wide. And then she gave a little smile as if she couldn’t wait to see what else I would do.
And what else would I do?
Any fucking thing I wanted.
Pinning her below me, her giant tits squashed against my chest, I wedged myself between her legs and thrust my cock in one powerful plunge without any warning.
Victoria immediately arched against me, her husky voice crying out in surprise and pleasure. Her pussy was as wet as I had expected it to be. My cock had slid in easily. I could feel the walls of her pussy pulsing and clenching against my surprise intrusion.
But I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to pause. No chance to catch your breath, sweetheart.
Tonight, I wanted to fuck my anger away. Tonight, I wanted to fuck my rage away.
I thrust in and out in long, powerful drives that left Victoria shuddering beneath me. I leaned down and took her lips, giving her a bruising kiss that I knew would leave her lips swollen for hours.
“Oh god, daddy!” Victoria cried out in that low, husky voice. “Yes, daddy!”
I thrust in harder and faster, feeling my release near.
I closed my eyes.
I thrust in and out harder and faster until I heard Victoria scream in release and I groaned in mine.
But when I opened my eyes again, I saw that any kind of release was an illusion. This was still very much hell.
Chapter Three
Halle
I silently followed the burly guard towards what looked like a large open den. It was richly decorated in dark leathers and heavy furniture. I tried to take it all in without looking like a petrified mouse.
I was in the Desmond Family compound!
I never knew why people called it a compound. That made it sound like the home of some weird Texan cult that was in the middle of nowhere. But space is at a premium in a place like Los Angeles. There is no “middle of nowhere” here.
The Desmond Family compound was actually an enormous mansion in the Holmby Hills. Twenty six rooms, t
wo indoor pools, three outdoor pools, a home theater, a petting zoo, a helipad, a separate 10,000 square foot garage filled with vintage cars—this was not your average compound. This was the absolute pinnacle of luxury.
And here I was, standing in the private den of Roy Desmond.
I smoothed down my skirt, hoping nothing had gotten wrinkled on the way here. I glanced behind me at the wide open archway. This den was clearly not private. If I was not having a private meeting with Roy Desmond, then how could I get close enough to—