Chasing Fire (The Fire Duet Book 1)

by Billie Lustig

  “Okay, spill it. Scale from one to ten?”

  I chuckle at her face that is cracked in two by the huge smile in between before she takes a sip of her tea.

  “Eleven.”

  “Holy motherfucking shit,” she blurts, almost choking on her tea. I glance around the room and shoot an apologizing look to the people around us before I turn my focus back on my shocked cousin.

  “Eleven?! Dude, not even fucking Reign scored higher than an eight, and you were obsessed with the guy!” Her blue eyes are beaming.

  A soft giggle escapes my mouth because she isn’t wrong.

  No man compares to Kane. At least so far.

  I may still be on my orgasm-filled, pink cloud, but right now, I’m not even sure anyone will ever compare to Kane. He seems too good to be true.

  “Okay, now I want it all. Dick size, positions, specials skills, every fucking thing.”

  I close my eyes and shoot her a shy look, even though I’m not ashamed for one fucking second. Last night was fucking epic, and I’m not ready to go back to reality just yet.

  “You really are shameless, Genny.” I shake my head.

  “You’re damn right I am. Now spill it. Dick size?”

  “Well, it’s not like I had a measuring tape with me, but let’s just say he filled the entire oven.”

  “Fuck yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” she quips while she pops a yellow macaron in her mouth. “What else?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer while my eyes roam the street through the window, thinking about last night. “He did something to me. It’s like he set me on fire. Just his hands on my body almost made me come on the fucking spot. Like they were magical. He promised I would see stars, and fucking hell, I literally did. At one point, I couldn’t even see straight, but I couldn’t stop either. The man’s got skills, let me tell you that.”

  She’s bouncing in her seat and clapping like a seal.

  “Did you guys even talk or just fucked each other brains out? And what is his name? What does he do? Are you going to see him again?”

  “His name is Kane, and I didn’t ask what he does for a living because I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s got enough money to check sleeping in the presidential suite off my bucket list. And I’m pretty sure he isn’t just your regular business man.” I cock an eyebrow at her before I take another sip, thinking about his intimidating appearance. He has to be a big player, and normally, it would take me about half a day to find out who he is.

  But I don’t want to know.

  I really want to see him again, my pussy especially, but I need to focus on getting Ronnie off my back. I need to make sure we are safe and that our debt is paid. After that, I will try to find out who he is.

  See if he is up for round two. And three. And hopefully four.

  “No way! You slept in the suite?” She looks at me in awe as I nod.

  She looks at me with a knowing look, and I know exactly what she is going to say next.

  “Can’t we ask him for help? I mean, obviously he’s got money.”

  I can’t deny the thought hasn’t run through my mind once or twice, but I’ve known him for twelve hours. Plus, I wouldn’t know who I’d be dealing with if I did ask for his help. For all I know, he’s even worse.

  “I don’t know him well enough. I know he’s a fucking sex god that doesn’t like to hear no for an answer, but for all I know, he’s worse than Ronnie.”

  “Yeah, well, if you’re in his debt, you may get some more mind-blowing sex,” she mumbles jokingly around a bite of scone. Little does she know, that is exactly the kind of torture I already know he likes.

  “Yeah, or he’ll drive me nuts by denying me my orgasms,” I state dryly while rolling my eyes. It’s actually weird talking about this, because until I said it out loud, I hadn’t realized that him withholding my orgasms was a method of dominance. One I wasn’t aware even existed.

  But it sure was fucking hot.

  “Yeah.” She finishes her scone before her brows shoot up. “Wait, what?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “He denied you an orgasm?”

  “Yup, the bastard didn’t like the fact that I got into the shower without asking for permission. At first I thought he was just fucking with me, but then he brought me to the edge more than once but refused to push me over before I told him he was in charge.”

  She blinks a few times before she brings her mug up to her lips.

  “Do you think he has a brother, because damn, girl, that is hot,” she screeches.

  “Yeah, well, tell that to my agonized clit.” I laugh. “She was pissed.”

  “Oh, please. I bet it turned you on even more.”

  “It did,” I admit. Normally, I take control because men aren’t sure how to handle my bluntness, but Kane whatever-his-last-name-is was not thrown off by my big mouth. If anything, it turned him on even more. It frustrated me when he demanded to let go and let him take control, but fuck me, it turned me on even more.

  My eyes catch a black limousine parking on the other side of the street, and my good mood drops to the gutter. I hear Imogen’s voice ranting about something, but my gaze is focused on the black-haired Italian getting out of the car. I don’t have to look twice to recognize Kenzo in his black, Valentino t-shirt that is tacky as shit. His long black hair is combed to the back of his head and shines because of the shitload of wax he puts in it.

  I watch him cross the street, knowing damn well he isn’t here for Daisy’s famous high tea. He pushes the door open and shoots me a wink before he places himself on the other side of the room and orders a cup of coffee. Sitting at least fifty feet away from us, I know he can’t hear us, but having his eyes watching our every move still annoys the shit out of me.

  “Fuck,” Genny mumbles under her breath when her eyes land on him. “You think they are going to follow us around now?”

  “Nope, just me,” I clarify, keeping my eyes on my new babysitter.

  “Seriously, Callie. What are we going to do about that?” she asks while she gives Kenzo a glare like she did in high school every day. He gives her a wink, making her roll her eyes before she turns her face back to me. Her tired face is one shade paler than when I walked in, and worry covers her face. I sigh because I don’t have an answer. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. Or better yet, who I’m going to do. I need a target wearing jewelry worth more than ten million fucking dollars, and I need it yesterday. The trouble with those people? They are fucking billionaires who travel around, and the chance of me finding one who is easy to rob in New York within a week is probably zero.

  “We are not going to do anything. I’m going to find a billionaire with a bored trophy wife to become best friends with,” I bluff, trying to convince myself as much as I’m trying to convince her.

  “Right, well, let’s just sit back and wait because I’m sure she will be riding in on a unicorn any minute now.” She leans back in her chair and shoots me a skeptical glare.

  “So I need to look really hard. Doesn’t mean it’s not possible,” I shrug.

  “Not in a fucking week, Cal.” I know she’s right. Unless the universe drops an attention-seeking bimbo at my feet right now.

  I’m fucked.

  I glare at Kenzo, who is reading the paper like he hangs out here every day. He looks totally out of place in his all black attire surrounded by the pastel colors of Daisy’s. When his dark brown eyes meet mine with a pompous smile, I gracefully flip him the bird before moving my gaze back to Imogen.

  “You could reach out to Reign?”

  “I’m not calling Reign, Gen,” I respond resolute.

  “What about Cristina? Can’t she push you another target?” Imogen asks hopefully.

  “I already begged her for the last one.”

  She nods, knowing there isn’t anyone else to turn to for this one. I have to dig myself out of this hole without getting Imogen further inv
olved.

  “Listen,” I say, lowering my voice. “If anything happens to me, I need you to leave town.”

  Her eyes widen in terror, and she glances at Kenzo. “Why the fuck would anything happen to you, Callie? You just said we will find someone.”

  “I know, but just in case I don’t have enough time … I need you to skip town.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without you,” she hisses.

  “Look, whatever happens, I need to know you’re safe. I may not have enough time to fix this, and I will be in ‘Italy’ for a while. I put a plan in place for this kind of situation a long time ago, and I need you to promise me you will follow it.” Being the daughter of a criminal teaches you a bunch of shit. But it was my mom who told me I should prepare for everything.

  Like always be prepared to disappear.

  “I don’t like the sound of this. We are good at this shit because we do it together. I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

  “Promise me.”

  “Fuck you, Callie,” she growls. It’s not what I want either, but if the time comes that my freedom isn’t a given, I need to know I don’t have to worry about her. I won’t be able to make a pit stop, picking her up in the middle of the city I’m trying to escape out of. I need to know she will be somewhere safe, and we can make a plan from there.

  “Promise. Me,” I growl back. We are only six months apart in age, but it’s times like this I hold those six months above her head like I’m the older sibling she doesn’t have.

  “Fine,” she snaps before she crosses her arms defiantly in front of her.

  “Okay, listen. I have a locker at Grand Central. Number 8107. Inside there is a bag similar to the one I always bring to the spa. In the bag is cash, passports, and some clothes. You go to Jessie’s spa and tell her that you want the special treatment.”

  “Jessie? Jessie is in on it?” Her brows shoot up.

  “My mom was friends with her mom. Now focus. Tell her you need the special treatment to relieve some stress. Follow the instructions she will give you and talk to no one. When you reach the final destination, you stay there until I come find you. The code is 2356. You got that? Locker 8107. Code 2356.”

  “Locker 8107. Code 2356. I got it,” she repeats.

  “And talk to no one. This is very important, Gen.”

  “Talking to no one,” she nods in confirmation.

  “If Ronnie takes me, I will find a way to contact you,” I continue, “to call you. He will keep me as a permanent arrangement, and I’ll convince him that I’m complying with it. That I won’t fight him on it, hoping he will give me some privileges and maybe even some freedom.”

  “Okay, but?” She looks at me with skeptical eyes. The color is slowly moving back into her face, but she isn’t convinced yet. It’s our first conversation in a while that isn’t filled with sarcasm and banter.

  Because we both know this is serious shit.

  If we screw this up, it can cost both of us everything.

  It can cost us our lives.

  “But I will always try to fight my way out of it.” My voice is toned down to a whisper because I want to make sure she is the only one who hears me.

  She looks at me and shakes her head. Not because she doesn’t agree with anything I just said, but because she hates the situation.

  She just stares at her mug for a minute, thinking about everything I just said before she moves her eyes back to me. There is a calmness on her face mixed with a determination that wasn’t there before. Like she’s accepted the situation and is ready to fight whenever it’s necessary. It’s a skill we both inherited from our mothers. It’s the ability to switch to survival mode within seconds. We push our fears aside and adjust to the situation, no matter how bad it may be.

  It’s the Irish fire inside of us no one can ever put out.

  We don’t go down without a fucking fight.

  “How do I know it’s time to go?” she asks.

  I shoot her a grateful look. She is the only one I can count on when shit hits the fan, and I’m grateful as fuck she follows my lead even though she should run for the hills.

  “I’ll tell you it’s time for a spa day.” I smile before I lift my mug towards Kenzo with a glare and finish my tea.

  20

  Callie

  Present Day

  I bolted. I bolted like a scared little girl because I totally freaked out.

  When I hung up the phone with Imogen, he wasted no time and dragged me back to bed.

  Really, the stamina of this man is ridiculous.

  Finally, I doze off like I did last time in that plush king-size bed at his hotel. I wake up a few hours later feeling more relaxed than I have in ages, one of his huge arms tucked under my head while the other kept me in a tight grip against his body. The warmth of his massive chest against my tiny back gives me a sense of comfort I’ve never felt before. His breath caresses my neck, and when he tugs me even closer, burying his nose in my hair, I feel safe. I can’t remember a time I have ever felt safer than this. I wallow in the feeling for a few minutes, tracing the lines of his tattoos with my fingertips before the angel on my shoulder starts messing with my head.

  What the fuck are you doing, spooning with a crime lord? The guy has taken you hostage, for crying out loud.

  You’re such a hussy!

  I quietly suck in a shocked breath, realizing what the fuck I’m doing. This wasn’t a one-night stand after a drunken night. This wasn’t a pickup in a bar. This situation is totally different. It’s fucked up.

  Royally fucked up.

  For once, I listen to the angel on my shoulder telling me to get the fuck out of here ASAP. My devil twins are spitting all kinds of other shit at my face that isn’t really worth repeating, and my head feels all over the place, so I do the mature thing to do.

  I sneak the fuck out.

  I peel his toned limbs off my body and collect my clothes off the ground before I tiptoe my naked ass out of here. I quietly open the bathroom door that is linked to my bedroom and strut towards it before locking the door behind me. Pressing my back against the surface, I take a few deep breaths, trying to clear my head.

  What the fuck are you doing, Callie?

  My focus should be on the mole, the one person who can tell me what my dad is up to.

  He’s my blood. He’s my family. He is a fucking selfish bastard, but he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my life. He will keep me safe. I chuckle at my own thoughts, not so sure about any of the things crossing my mind right now. I take a deep breath before I force my legs to the massive king-size bed in my room and throw myself on it. Staring at the flawless white ceiling, I do my best to clear my head, but somehow, those mesmerizing blue eyes keep appearing in my head no matter how hard I push it away. His scent seems to have mixed with mine, because I swear I can still smell him on my skin.

  That or I’m obsessed.

  Probably both.

  I should take a shower and wash my betrayal off my tired body, but the flutter in my stomach keeps me settled between the cream silk sheets until my thoughts finally drift me off to sleep.

  The loud knocking on my door is what wakes me up the next morning. I groan at the sound before I do my best to open my eyes. The curtains are still closed, so I press the button next to my bed to open them.

  “Hold your goddamn horses, for fuck’s sake,” I call out with my best southern twang even though I sound more like a redneck lost in translation.

  I drag myself out of bed before I head to the walk-in closet to grab the first sweater I find and pull it over my head. I cover my ass with some jogging shorts, knowing they will highlight my ass and leave nothing to the imagination.

  Damn girl, you really are a hussy.

  My eyes glance at the mirror, looking at my hair before I try to make it look less like the bird’s nest I woke up with. I shouldn’t care how I look since my priority shouldn’t be to impress Kane fucking Carrillo, but it’s like I have no control over myself jus
t by thinking he is the one standing in front of my door. The knocking gets louder by the second, and I inhale and exhale a few times to prepare myself for those compelling blue eyes.

  “Alright, I’m coming!” I shout while my feet quickly move towards the door.

  “What?!” I bark while simultaneously opening the door. When I’m met with the brown eyes in front of me, it takes me a second to realize it’s not Kane. Goosebumps cover my body as I cock my eyebrow, keeping my gaze on one of the Carrillo men who has been causing shivers to run down my spine for the last few days.

  The disappointed devils on my shoulder make me blurt out a, “What the fuck do you want?” while the angel tells me to shut up if I want to stay alive. There is something threatening about this guy that I can’t pinpoint.

  His face seems familiar, even though I have no clue why. I examine his face, trying to dig deep in my memory, wondering where I’ve seen his black hair that matches the black attire that seems to be the required uniform when you are part of this army. The big smirk on his face doesn’t match his vibrant amber colored eyes that look like they are a gift from the devil himself. He shamelessly ogles me from head to toe and a knot forms in my stomach.

  And not in a good way.

  “That is not the way to greet good people, abejita.” He moves past me with his slender physique, walking into the room like he owns the place, giving me chills. He speaks English without effort, but I detect a minor European accent in his voice. His appearance isn’t more intimidating than any other of the Carrillo men, but something about him feeds the fear in my gut.

  The fucker creeps me out with his croaky voice that reminds me of my psychotic brother. My head quickly examines him, not sure what to do with him while he takes in the view of the ocean through the windows. There is something about the way he moves around, but my memory can’t seem to tell me why. My eyes narrow cautiously before I quietly ask him the one thing to identify him as friendly. The one thing that was stamped in to my head since birth while I keep the door open, unsure if I need a reason to have an escape.