The Disciples: A Dark Romance Collection

by Sweet, Izzy

  What was he doing? Was he with Lucifer? Was he killing people?

  Or was he with another woman?

  I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t, but I do. The mere thought of him with someone else makes me so angry I could cry.

  I truly have no control of this situation. He can do whatever he wants, whoever he wants.

  It’s not like we’re in a healthy relationship here.

  I hated him for not telling me where he was going, or what he was doing. I hated him for making me feel this way. For making feel anything in the first place. It’s fucking insane.

  Insane.

  But as soon as he walked in the door, soaked to the bone and smelling faintly of blood, I didn’t want to know where he was or what he was doing.

  And the sick, fucked-up part of me was glad he was finally home.

  I’m in over my head here, and the water is only getting deeper.

  Beside me, Abigail squirms in her chair, glancing towards the TV. Knowing she has French toast coming her way she’s no longer interested in the cereal.

  “Go watch some TV,” I smile at her. “You’re excused from the table.”

  She flashes me a bright smile and darts out of her chair.

  I stand up and clean up the bowls of cereal. I take my time dumping them out and washing them by hand, waiting for Andrew to come back downstairs.

  When he doesn’t, I decide to go up and check on him.

  The smell of minty soap and steamy water greets me as I push open the bedroom door.

  “Andrew?” I call out. “Are you okay?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I decide I better check. Who knows what kind of shit he got up to last night.

  Maybe he smelled like blood because he was bleeding?

  I step inside the bedroom and immediately have to step over a big black garbage bag left on the floor. That’s odd, I think.

  I nudge the bag open and the coppery smell of blood wafts out. I quickly nudge the bag closed again, deciding I really don’t want to know what’s in there.

  “Andrew?” I call out again, walking up to the bathroom door.

  Still no answer.

  Fearing that he’s hurt, I push the door open.

  “Andrew?” I call out, trying to peer through the thick cloud of steam.

  Still, he doesn’t answer me.

  I step inside the bathroom and walk up to the shower door. Through the foggy glass I can make out his large silhouette. It looks like he’s still standing. Maybe he just didn’t hear me?

  “Andr—”

  The shower door opens and I’m yanked inside.

  I start to squeal as the water hits me but a hand immediately covers my mouth.

  “Shush,” he murmurs. “You don’t want to alarm Abigail.”

  He pushes me up against the shower wall and stares down into my eyes.

  I blink the water from my lashes and peer up at him.

  Slowly, he begins to pull his hand away.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper up at him. “My clothes are completely soaked now.”

  He looks down, his dark gaze warming as it roams over me slowly, almost lazily. His lips begin to curve into a smile. “You’re right, they’re soaked.”

  He grabs the bottom of my shirt and tugs it up.

  “Wait…” I hiss but he doesn’t stop. Pulling the shirt over my head, he tosses it carelessly to the side where it lands with a wet plop.

  “Why did you do that?” I frown.

  His mouth comes down on my mouth. His hands pull down my bra straps.

  I reach up, trying to stop him but his mouth keeps slanting over my mouth, driving me to distraction.

  His kiss deepens, his lips pulling hungrily from my lips as my bra falls away. One warm, slick hand comes down on my right breast, squeezing it, while the other shoves down my pajama pants.

  “Andrew,” I moan into his mouth. “We shouldn’t…”

  “Shush,” he growls and kisses me harder to keep me quiet.

  His knee nudges at my knee and then he reaches down, pulling my leg up, hooking it on his hip.

  Groaning into my mouth, he pushes forward, filling me up with his hard cock.

  I throw my head back. He’s so deep and I’m so full, I feel like he just pinned me to the damn wall.

  He pulls out slowly and immediately thrusts forward.

  A little sound escapes my lips.

  His hand slaps over my mouth.

  “Be quiet,” he hisses.

  I try, I really do, but it’s so hard to be quiet as he begins to fuck me like the end of the world is coming.

  His wet body slams into my body like he’s trying to slam me through the tile. And he drives himself so hard, so deep, the power behind his thrusts forces me up on my toes.

  I claw at his back, at his sides, and at his shoulders, desperately trying to find something to hold on to, but he’s too slick and too wet for me to find purchase.

  My hands just end up sliding all over him.

  “Come for me,” he growls into my ear, and to my horror I feel my body begin to respond to his command.

  My mind protests the submission but my core pulses and the pressure inside me expands.

  “Come for me, Amy,” he growls again, and then his teeth latch onto my neck.

  He drives into me harder and deeper. Smashing my ass against the wall.

  “Andrew,” I groan behind his hand and his grip tightens.

  His cock drives extra deep and he smashes my clit.

  I jerk against him, crying out his name again.

  Teeth releasing my neck, he hisses, “I said be quiet.”

  His hand slides up, covering my nose and cutting off my air.

  I can’t breathe. Desperately, I try to pull in oxygen but I’m being smothered by the palm of his hand.

  I try to fight him, I try to shove him off but he’s too strong, too determined.

  His body slams into my body again and again.

  Spots flash in front of my eyes.

  I’m dying.

  Suffocating.

  But amazingly my orgasm is still building.

  “I said come,” he grunts into my ear and I explode.

  My nose burns and my lungs ache, but the orgasm that rocks through my body is extra strong. Colors overtake the spots flashing in front of my eyes, and warm, wet waves roll through my core.

  I think the lack of oxygen may be enhancing my release.

  The pleasure feels twice as strong as usual and there’s this strange rush flooding through my nerves.

  “Yes,” he grunts quietly as I clamp down on him. “That’s a good girl.”

  I feel him swell up, growing inside me, then he’s grinding himself slow and deep as he fills me up with his warmth.

  Just when I’m about to pass out, he removes his hand and I gasp in a mouthful of much needed air.

  He holds me tightly as I twitch and spasm on top of his cock. Catching my breath and still coming at the same time.

  As soon as the last tremor fades and I get some of my strength back, I push him away.

  Our eyes meet.

  Mine are confused and hazy.

  His are warm and tender.

  “You almost killed me,” I hiss.

  He smirks and tucks an errant strand of my hair behind my ear. “If I wanted to kill you—” he starts but he’s cut off as Abigail calls out.

  “Mommy? Andrew?”

  It sounds like she’s in the bedroom.

  “Just a minute, honey!” I call out in a panic. “Mommy’s in the bathroom!”

  “Oh, okay!” she responds cheerfully with some relief.

  I wonder how long she’s been wondering about me.

  “I might be awhile… Wait for me downstairs.”

  “Oh… Okay!” she calls back less enthusiastically.

  I hold my breath, listening closely to her walk out of the bedroom. A moment later we can hear her skipping down the stairs.

  “Good grief,” I groan and slump against the wal
l. “That was too close.”

  “It was,” Andrew agrees, frowning thoughtfully. “I think it’s time she went back to school.”

  16

  Andrew

  Shit. I’ve never been a thinker really. I mean, when have I ever needed to? It was always go here, shoot that, remove this.

  Now I’m sitting here in Simon’s pristine office and my head is spinning in circles. I’m the caveman type. I don’t do the whole going through all the facts and investigating things shit.

  “That’s all that we have. They were paid for the job through a blind contract, but they knew it would be for the Russians. No connections to them though. The guys who’ve been identified were all hitters out of Russia, Ukraine, and one from Syria,” Simon recites to me off of the notepad on his desk.

  I lift my eyebrows at him, that just doesn’t seem right. “They’re all contractors? No actual mafia men?”

  “None that we could get a line on. You did get the prints off of all the ones at your site?” he asks, and I swear he’s trying to fuck with me.

  He knows for a fact I do my job to the letter. I don’t leave shit out.

  “You have the thumb and forefinger off of every guy there, Simon. What the hell do you want me to do? Start snipping them off next and bring them to you?”

  Johnathan starts to rumble a gravelly laugh beside me. “Can you see the Spider with a baggy of removed digits?”

  Seriously, I don’t find this shit funny at all. Simon is missing something from our raids and I can feel how bad it is. We missed someone or something. Either Johnathan or I did. I just don’t know what, and Simon doesn’t either.

  Elbowing Johnathan in the ribs, his laugh dims down to a low chuckle. “Shut the fuck up for a second, biker boy. Think about it… When have you ever known the Russians to hire out something like this?”

  “It’s a snatch and grab. They—” he starts.

  “No, no, no. Listen to me, John, it wasn’t just that,” I growl out.

  My head’s spinning and I can see Simon watching me out of the corner of my eye. He’s been following this same path that I’m going down and he doesn’t like the end result, if there is one.

  “Let’s go back a bit, like to the Yakuza hit on Lucifer’s wife.”

  That shuts them both up and I can tell I have their full attention.

  “She’s snatched and we went charging in to bring her back. We put a call out to all of the city’s hitters to get that operation done. Right?”

  Johnathan shrugs but Simon nods his head slowly. “We did. We even put a bounty in with the Russians.”

  “Right. What the fuck did that do for us? We got three guys, two of which swore they were just some fry cooks from a local restaurant. Why the fuck didn’t the Russians cash in with all the fleeing bastards? I mean, seriously, even our guys were pulling in tattooed bastards daily. Lucifer shelled out almost a hundred mil, right?”

  “I wish he hadn’t put that bounty out there like that… It was… reckless,” Simon says.

  “The Russians didn’t do shit. That’s odd. They need money too, ya know? Then with Bart I get some answers on names. We hear Ivan’s name but that’s it. Everyone who was in the know spilled a ton of shit to us, but no one knew who the financial backers were.”

  “So the Russians and the Yakuza are in the same boat. We know that…” Johnathan grunts.

  He’s right, this is becoming fairly easy to prove knowledge. Except the Russians are staying quiet, they aren’t banging on our door for Ivan. Why the fuck not? He’s worth a shit ton of money and he had knowledge of the job to get Lucifer’s kids.

  So we knocked off their teams. From the weapons and intel we pulled from the house, they were going for the kids, but to what end?

  “Something’s missing from this whole shit-storm. Like what are they playing at? Is this just a job from the Yakuza? Retribution for what we did to their operations?”

  “Now you see why I asked if anyone was missing. It’s not like the Russians to do a job like this without some of their connected men in on the operation.”

  Simon has his fingertips steepled together in front of his face. His eyes are watching us both like a spider getting ready to snap us up.

  “So you think we missed someone or something?” Johnathan asks.

  “It’s crossed my mind, and Lucifer’s. We both agree a puzzle piece is missing, but… We don’t know what it is.”

  “You think we fucked up that bad or you thinking we’re rats?” Johnathan asks as he scoots forward in his chair.

  Rolling his eyes, Simon says, “No, we have no doubts as to your loyalties.”

  Nodding his head, Johnathan says, “Then what the fuck are you getting at?”

  Watching the byplay, I can see the faint dark circles around Simon’s eyes. He’s tired and stressed.

  This isn’t normal for him.

  Simon is nothing if not a completely detached professional. He doesn’t deal in emotions or feelings. He’s one of the analytical elites. He deals with data, numbers, and intel. If I hadn’t seen him get stabbed once in the leg, I would think he was a fucking robot.

  He’s so fucking collected, calm, and disgusted by dirt. He has contacts that reach across the world, and that’s why they call him the Spider. It’s not a name said in good humor either. If he’s got someone in his web, they’re as good as dead.

  If Simon isn’t connecting the dots… fuck.

  “How sure are we that this is something?” I ask, trying to get between the two before tempers flare.

  Simon’s eyes wander back to me. “We aren’t.”

  “Bullshit. My hackles are raised now just as much as yours.”

  Johnathan slumps back into his chair.

  “Too much is not happening,” I say.

  “Where’s Ivan? What’s our info say about him?”

  “He’s gone to ground. Ghosted our men as soon as he got out,” Simon says with a wince.

  “What the fuck do you mean he ghosted? Where the fuck is he?” I nearly yell.

  “From the whispers I got, he and the wife have been taken back to the motherland. To answer some tough questions.”

  “Are you fucking with me?” I ask.

  “No, that’s what we figured would happen after the raids. Looks like they want to know how word got out about those two little groups.”

  “Well, fuck,” I say. “I still don’t like any of this. It’s too easy.”

  Simon shrugs his shoulders and frowns. “I’ve got feelers out on the ground right now. I need you guys to keep an ear out.”

  Nodding my head, I look down at my watch. “I need to go up and talk to the boss. He wants to know how my girl is doing in her new school with Evelyn.”

  Simon rolls his eyes and starts rubbing his temples. He emits a long sigh. “Yes, let’s just put a hold on things so we can discuss the women in your lives.”

  Laughing loudly, Johnathan holds out his fist to Simon. “Not going to trap us, brother! Fucking leeches, all of ‘em. Soon as they can they get their claws in ya, they get you turned around so much you don’t know where your balls went.”

  If anything, Simon looks disgusted by Johnathan. I can practically see the revulsion Simon feels at the thought of touching skin with a biker.

  “What? I washed my hands a couple of hours ago, ya fucking priss.”

  Simon turns in his chair, away from us both, before waving a hand in our direction. “I’ll call when I know more.”

  We both stand and walk out of the office, towards the elevators.

  Pushing the up button, I look over at Johnathan. “You really like pushing his buttons, don’t you?”

  “Fuck yeah. Dude’s so uptight, I bet he turns lumps of coal into diamonds in his spare time by shoving them up his ass.”

  Shaking my head, I say, “Yeah, well, he probably still considers you a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal.”

  “Someone’s gotta be the muscle in this place.”

  17

  Andrew
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  If this was a movie, it’s right now, as I’m pulling into the garage, that I would have some big fucking breakthrough thought about all that’s going on around us.

  I don’t get it though. It’s been a busy two weeks since I spoke with Simon. The city has gone from a hornet’s nest of activity to absolute quiet.

  Nothing is happening—no wars, no violence, no tension. The world it seems is going on with life. Everything is normal. We’ve got Abigail in school, been house shopping, clothes shopping, grocery shopping…

  Shopping out my fucking ears.

  I don’t like the normal. Normal is the bad part. Normal is when the villain springs a trap on the unsuspecting adventurer. It’s like the longer things go on in life like nothing happened, the worse I know the next event is going to be.

  Fuck, I hate the waiting.

  And life around the house has been getting a little crazy. We’ve gone from me having to keep my girls in the house, safe and sound, to getting them out in the real world again.

  Amy was scared shitless when I told her Ivan was gone. She doesn’t like the thought of him being alive any more than I do, I think. She hasn’t said anything, but I can tell she wishes I had taken that fucker’s life. Taken the man who threatened her and her daughter. I wish I had. Fuck the consequences.

  I’d like to kill that fuck like the pig he is.

  Amy’s been coming out of her shell bit by bit. The news of Ivan being released terrified her, but she knows she’s mine now. She has nothing to worry about.

  And every night I try to drill that into her mind and body.

  She’s not going to be simply a wife to me or the woman who warms my bed. No, she’s my possession.

  My fucking obsession.

  Mine down to the very core of her being.

  I can’t even stand the thought of anyone else coming near her, smelling her, or touching her.

  There’s an inky blackness that surrounds my mind. What we have consumes me. It burns like a fire raging through my soul.

  Amy represents something to me that I will never have. Something I’ve never touched before. Something inheritably good and pure. She’s so beautiful to me, so fucking ethereal, that it can be painful to think of for any length of time.