The Disciples: A Dark Romance Collection

by Sweet, Izzy

  “Do you need assistance with it?” I ask.

  “No, I got it. Need to take on more responsibility, as Lucifer likes to remind me. Besides, I know how Peter would want to be taken care of.”

  Nodding my head, I grab the second to last box and watch as James grabs the last. We both head back into the dark garage.

  It’s starting to grow light out and I can see the sky lightening up slowly.

  Setting our boxes down, I look to him. “I’ve got an appointment with Father Coss today. I’ll make sure all the fees are taken care of.”

  “Thanks,” he says, then he looks at me with his head tilted sideways. He almost looks like a stupid dog showing confusion. “Why aren’t you wearing socks, Simon?”

  Looking down at my feet, I suddenly feel the tight leather of my dress shoes surrounding my toes. Damn.

  “Fuck off, James,” I hiss as I walk into the garage.

  His loud laughter comes echoing through the dark recesses of the enclosed space. “You finally got some ass!”

  He’s still fucking laughing as he gets into the black SUV and turns over the engine.

  Damn. Shit. And fucking rats of hell.

  There’s nothing to be done though. Pushing the button to close the garage door, I turn on the light. Time to start hauling in her belongings.

  Collateral damage.

  That’s what James will be if I find out he tells anyone what he saw.

  * * *

  Carrying a breakfast tray into the bedroom, I set it down gently on the nightstand beside Meredith. Reaching over to her shoulder, my hand hovers barely a hair’s breadth away from her.

  This is it.

  Last night could be considered a mistake of passion and lust. If I touch her bare, tanned shoulder, I’ll be the one that’s putting my head into the noose.

  I’ll have no more excuses within myself or for her brother.

  Her breathing stops suddenly, and I can tell she’s snapped awake. Her body fully tenses.

  This is it.

  Make the choice or have it taken from me.

  Laying my hand on her shoulder lightly, I say, “I’ve brought breakfast.”

  Her body doesn’t exactly relax, but it doesn’t tense any further.

  “Tha—” she starts but clears her throat quietly. “Thank you.”

  Her skin is so warm and silky to the touch, the small push of electrical current I can feel through our bodies runs straight to my cock. Stiffening from the memory of her tight walls of bliss, I fight off the shudder that wants to run through my body.

  Standing up from the bedside, I walk over to my dresser to remove a pair of black socks. “Your clothing is in the closet, hung up next to mine. I’ve begun unpacking all of the boxes, but there are still more to go through.”

  “You, what?” she asks.

  I can hear her sitting up on the bed. The rustling of the sheets lets me know she’s covered her wondrous breasts.

  Turning to face her, I say, “We have an appointment today. I need you to eat breakfast and get dressed. Something respectable.”

  Turning away from her gaping mouth, I start to head out of the room only to stop to warn her.

  “Don’t push me on this, Meredith. We need to go to church and I promise you, if you embarrass me you will not like the consequences.”

  “Asshole!” she shouts at me as I walk out.

  * * *

  Should I be surprised or worried that she heeded my demands to dress respectfully? Either way, I find that I’m enjoying it too much to be too worried. If she misbehaves, we can always revisit the night I spanked her.

  The way her bottom turned pink gives even more life to my now constant semi-erect cock.

  It seems my body has decided to betray me. No matter what I do or think about, a small glance of her, or the faint hint of her scent, and I become aroused.

  I feel like a damn teenage boy, raging hormones all over the place.

  Wearing a modest black dress, her hair is pulled back into a severe ballerina bun. Her long, graceful neck is adorned with a simple white gold necklace. A small cross hangs down in front of her tastefully hidden cleavage.

  Tastefully hidden cleavage… What the hell is wrong with us both? Her for being so damn placating right now and me for thinking those words.

  Pulling into a parking space close to the front of the old massive gothic church, I place my hand on her lower thigh.

  Looking over into her eyes, I soak in her shock at the contact of our skin. Even now I can barely keep myself from ripping the sheer pantyhose from her thighs so that I can feel the heat of her skin on the palm of my hand.

  “Simon?” she asks in a low questioning voice.

  Moving my hand from her knee, I lean forward and open up the glovebox. There, inside, is a velvet jewelry box.

  Motioning for her to grab it, I say, “Please wear that. It has a locator device installed inside it in case of emergencies.”

  She pulls the thick, silver bracelet from the box and looks down at it, hefting it gently in her hands. “It’s heavy.”

  Nodding my head, I watch as she fastens it around her right wrist. Thankfully she puts it on that wrist like I had hoped. The left wrist could have been disastrous.

  “Let me get out first, Meredith,” I say as I climb out. “I’ll come to you.”

  Taking in my surroundings, I check out the few cars parked in the lot. There aren’t many this early in the morning. Especially with the slushy mix of melting snow and the grimy blackness of road soot.

  Coming around to her side of the Escalade, I take another look around. Nothing stands out as a threat and I don’t have any telltale gut instincts ringing alarms in my head.

  Opening the door, I take her hand as I carefully assist her down from the seat.

  She looks radiant. Like an angel gracing this world of shit, just fallen from heaven.

  “I really didn’t think you were going to take me to a church, Simon,” she says as she looks up at the spires reaching into the ugly gray skies.

  “Meredith, as soon as you realize I rarely, if ever, joke, you will see that when I say something I mean it.”

  Rolling her eyes, she lifts her wrist. “This bracelet is really heavy, Simon. What is it made of? Pure gold?”

  “No,” I say with a small smile. “That’s the small electrical capacitor that’s also installed inside it. I have an app on my phone that will immediately send the same current from a taser shot into your wrist if you should decide to run.”

  “What?!” she squawks at me, her eyes widening. Looking down at the bracelet, she tries to unfasten the clasp.

  “I wouldn’t do that. It’s set on a trigger to go off once it’s been sealed. If broken, you or whoever tries to take it off you, will get a nasty shock,” I say as I come back to her side.

  Putting my hand on her lower back, I feel her spine go rigid through her wool coat.

  Turning her head back to look at my face, she says, “You joke.”

  “Meredith, what did I just say about joking?” I ask as I usher her towards the door. The wind has taken to a chilly gust. It pushes at both of our backs.

  “I—” she starts.

  “I keep what’s mine safe, Meredith. Never forget that, ever. I will protect you, even if I have to protect you from yourself.”

  Though I’m not entirely sure what will happen to her hand if that taser goes off. There have been reports it could ruin the appendage completely.

  Good thing she put it on the right wrist. I might have plans for the left hand.

  Pulling open the huge oaken door, I all but have to shove her in and over the threshold.

  I wonder if I would have to push her down the aisle if we got married?

  Now that’s a horrendous thought. Marriage. The death nail of any coffin. Maybe... Perhaps…

  Who knows?

  Ushering a now very shocked and silent Meredith down the aisle between the pews, I seat us in the fifth row from the front.

  Spread
out around us are men and women of varying ages, all either sitting or kneeling. Some with their heads bent, others looking up at the man on the cross.

  We all have our crosses to bear, I guess. Though mine is more of the flesh than wood.

  Meredith, how do I count the ways I want to possess you?

  A small, older man comes out of the confessional booth and walks over to sit next to his equally old wife. Both sit silently as they look up at the church’s ceiling. When they stand up slowly, taking each other’s hand, and walk down the aisle, I catch Meredith with a small smile at the corner of her lips.

  She has some romantic thoughts after all it seems.

  Standing up from the pew, I motion for Meredith to remain seated.

  “I’ll be right back. I need to make a confession,” I say with an annoyed sigh.

  “You… Confess? Ha.” she snorts quietly. “To which of your many… sins.”

  I just know she wanted to say crimes.

  “Too many to do today,” I say and walk away from her.

  Turning back to her as I enter the booth, I look at her and then motion to my wrist. She gets the message, I hope.

  Yep. The middle finger she shoots back at me ensures me she got it.

  What a classy lady.

  Pulling the curtain behind myself, I lean against the kneeling post and wait for the priest to open the little sliding door to address me.

  When it slides with that unmistakable rasp of wood on wood, I say, “You summoned me, Father?”

  “Do you have any respect, Simon?” Father Coss growls out from behind the partition.

  “Respect for what?” I ask in confusion.

  “Leaning against the post like a common hoodlum.”

  “Ah, forgive me, your eminence,” I grumble out as I kneel.

  “That’s better.”

  “What did you want?” I ask.

  “The damn city is tearing itself inside out trying to keep the peace, and it seems Matthew and you both won’t let sleeping dogs lie,” he says, and I can hear the anger in his voice.

  “Us? What the hell do you mean?”

  “Don’t you use that word in here, Simon. I’m not nearly too old to slap you around this church.”

  “Try it Father and I’ll remove your fingers one at a time with a pruning shear.”

  “You foul little demon.”

  “Yes, I know…” I sigh.

  It’s like this every time he insists it’s me who comes to this damnable place.

  “The Russians have reached out to me, Simon,” he says after some time.

  “Oh. When?”

  Why in the world would they want to contact him?

  “Eight days ago.”

  “That was before the bombing…” I say quietly.

  “Yes, it was, and they were requesting a sit down with Matthew.”

  “What?” I ask in confusion.

  “They didn’t have a hand in the bombing, and they contacted me again to make sure that you knew that. They have no clue who did it and want that made clear,” he says, and I can hear his voice clearly.

  He’s being emphatic, he really thinks they’re being honest.

  “Why the sit down?” I ask.

  “Because the death tolls are getting too high.”

  “Yeah, on their side. They shouldn’t run slave rings in our city. It’s bad for their livelihoods,” I say with a chuckle.

  Our casualties… none. Theirs were far too many for them not to worry about.

  “I agree, but that’s not the damn point. They are trying to broker a peace and I want you and Matthew to hear them out. I don’t care what you have to say about it. Just do it.”

  “Listen carefully, Father. This is your sanctuary. At our good fucking graces, it’s yours. Don’t push too hard. But I agree, we need to sit down and talk with them. Especially if they are claiming innocence in the bombings.”

  “Simon…” he starts to say, and I can feel his anger through the wooden wall between us.

  “We’ll talk to them, get a time from them, and we’ll set the place. We’ll make sure it’s on neutral territory.”

  “Good, because I’m tired of the funerals that have been popping up recently. The loss of Paul and now Peter… I had a lot of hopes for Peter…” he trails off.

  “Just because of his attendance to church, Father…” I start to say

  “He was one of the fallen who had a chance of redemption, Simon. The same chance you’ve all had. Dammit. All of you have had a chance at one time or another. He was one of my flock.”

  Closing my eyes for a moment, I breathe in and out, then ask “What does that make us? The Fallen? Lucifer’s merry little band of Fallen men?”

  “Don’t use that name here,” Father Coss says and for the first time that I can ever recall I hear a tinge of sadness in his voice.

  “Don’t you want to try and redeem me?” I ask suddenly, and for the very life of me I can’t think of why it would even matter.

  “Would you even want it?” he asks back.

  “Any and all costs for the funeral should be sent directly to me,” I say as I stand from the post.

  “Simon,” Father Coss says, but that’s all I hear as I pull the curtain shut behind me.

  Heading down the aisle, I walk with long strides and grab at Meredith’s wrist. Pulling her up from the pew, I watch as she must be debating on whether to make a scene.

  Thankfully she doesn’t.

  Pulling her behind me, I cannot walk fast enough to get me out of this dark depressing place.

  Almost bursting through the doors, I feel like I can finally breathe again.

  Looking up into the sky, I smile for the first time today. Taking a deep breath of the freezing air, I smile. I hate this fucking city.

  “We need to go,” I say as I look back down at Meredith.

  “Okay…” she murmurs as if she’s not quite sure what to do with me.

  Pulling her to the car, I first seat her then walk briskly around to the driver’s door. Checking out the lot, I still don’t see anything of concern, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Damn.

  Two choices. Get in the car and risk an explosion or search the car quickly and risk being shot.

  Squatting down close to the dirty asphalt, I do a quick bend over and search beneath my car. Nothing’s there. No little telltale signs of a bomb. Opening the door quickly, I pop the latch of the engine hood.

  My hand goes to the pistol under my arm, yanking it out of the leather holster when I hear a loud noise.

  A high-pitched motorcycle whine pierces the air as I pull the door closed across my chest. I hide my head behind the window. I don’t have enough time to jump into the vehicle as bullets draw a bead across the glass.

  Six well placed shots slam into where my head is at and I flinch as each stops dead in their tracks.

  Bulletproof windows, assholes, I think and then lean my arm around the protective barrier of the door.

  The motorcycle starts to peel away from us and I can spot two riders on it. The one who was shooting is turned around, aiming his Uzi directly at the door again. I doubt he realized the shots were stopped by the glass.

  I place three shots directly in the center of his side and spine.

  The bike begins to waver as I place one more shot just the below the bottom of his helmet. I watch as blood bursts out from the collar of his tight-fitting leather jacket.

  The guy that’s driving reaches back to try and hold the dead shooter on the back, but it’s too much of strain for him. He let’s go of the man and slows as the body falls off the bike and onto the pavement.

  I shoot three more times, trying to hit the guy racing away on the bike, but only one of the shots comes close. It grazes his left shoulder. It might have hit his skin, but with the leather jacket he wears I can’t tell.

  “Damn!” I shout as I stuff myself into the Escalade.

  Slamming my key into the ignition, I debate for only the
briefest of seconds on whether I should start it or not.

  Flipping over the massive engine, I don’t give it time to settle in as I shift into drive.

  “Simon!” Meredith shrieks as she grabs at my shoulder. “What is going on!?”

  “Give me a moment!” I growl as I push down hard on the gas pedal.

  Luckily the parking lot is empty as I fishtail the armored Escalade around in a circle. Heading in the direction of the body, I slam on the brakes as soon as I near it.

  “What are you doing?! We need to run!” Meredith shouts.

  Shaking my head, I hop out of the door.

  The body is lying in a large red slush of blood and snow.

  Squatting down, I rip the helmet off his head and frown. Japanese. He’s fucking Yakuza.

  Damn.

  There’s sirens far off in the distance, and I can tell they’ll be here sooner than I’d like. I can’t get the damn body into the car.

  Shit.

  Rifling through his pockets, I don’t find anything of importance. Just a pack of Japanese cigarettes and a cheap lighter. Pulling up the right sleeve and then his left, I find tattoos. Damn.

  Flipping his body over, I start to unzip his jacket when Meredith rolls down her window. “Simon what the hell? I don’t want to die so you can get some cheap thrills!”

  “Very funny, Meredith,” I say with a laugh and smirk.

  Ripping the shirt up, I expose his chest. He has the tattoos I was expecting there. No telling who he’s working for on tattoos alone, but it’s a damn good way to guess we’ve got another headache coming.

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I take three quick photos of his face and a couple of his chest tattoos.

  Running back to my car, I jump into the open door. Hitting the gas pedal, the car door slams itself shut as we screech away from the body.

  Pulling a burner phone from the center console, I dial 911. “There was a shootout at Saint Michael’s church. Some guy on a motorcycle wearing black clothes shot at another guy in a tan Tahoe.”

  That should get them looking for someone besides my black Escalade.

  Disconnecting the phone, I hand it to Meredith. “Toss that out the window.”