Chasing Fire (The Fire Duet Book 1)

by Billie Lustig

  He shouldn’t be allowed to be this cute when I’m annoyed.

  “Nope.” I take another sip then walk towards the bed, dropping myself on it while keeping my glass in the air to make sure I don’t spill a drop.

  “If you’re here to fuck, I’m not in the mood.”

  His brows knit together before he moves his feet to the edge of the bed. Before I can anticipate his next move, he snatches both my feet and yanks me between his legs, the sudden movement making the bourbon slosh over the glass, right on my neck.

  “Look what you’ve done, asshole!” I growl. My upper body is still laying on the bed while my legs are tight between his.

  “I don’t see any issues.” His hand moves all the way up my body, stroking the skin underneath my shirt. His lips move to my collarbone before his tongue swipes the bourbon off my neck.

  My eyes close automatically, and I can’t help but let out a soft moan under his touch, my hand letting go of the now empty glass to run my fingers through his hair.

  “See, my baby is always in the mood,” he murmurs against my skin.

  For the first time, it’s the angel who’s telling me to just enjoy this.

  That I deserve this. To relax.

  But the devil twins keep screeching shit into my ear. Telling me he’s an asshole. That he’s trying to control me with sex. But mostly how I should make it fucking clear to him that I don’t take commands, orders, or whatever he barks just because he wants to.

  I buck my hips and quickly roll out from under him.

  “Stop!” My hand is in the air, hoping to keep the distance between us. Because we all know I don’t stand a chance when he puts his hands on my body.

  Spineless slut.

  He is laying on the bed, propped up on his elbows watching me.

  “STOP touching me. STOP seducing me. STOP controlling me!” I yell louder than I should.

  “Babe, what’s wrong?” The grin on his face is interested, pissing me off even more.

  Where the fuck is the angry son of a bitch who keeps threatening me because he is a ruthless killer? That’s the man I need to yell my frustrations at. The one who throws knives at my head.

  I need that version of Kane, not this sweet, affectionate one. I can’t stay mad at this one.

  “What is wrong? What is wrong?” I ramble as I rake my hands through my hair. “Everything is wrong. I’m done being treated like fucking livestock by every single man that walks into my life. I’m sick of assholes controlling my life. My father, my brother, Ronnie, YOU!” I growl while I point my finger at him accusingly. The blood in my veins feels like it’s running faster with every name I mention, and I don’t even really know why I’m this angry.

  Or whom I’m actually angry with.

  He rubs his face in frustration before his eyes move back to mine. His eyes darken, and his jaw grinds while his energy grows with dominance.

  There he is.

  You don’t yell at this man and expect nothing to happen. He is not the kind of man who asks, ‘How can I fix this, baby?’

  No, he tells you to shut the fuck up before he throws another knife at your head. But apparently, that is how I like my men best.

  He gets off the bed, sauntering towards me. I feel like he grows an inch with every step he makes, but I ignore how intimidating he looks.

  I especially ignore how much it turns me on.

  He stops in front of me, stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers before they trail down and cup my neck, pushing me back and up against the wall.

  How this man can both be affectionate and dominant as fuck at the same time, I have no fucking clue.

  “Don’t ever compare me with your father or your psychopath brother,” he grunts against my lips, his whiskey scented breath mixing with mine. “I’m a motherfucking asshole, the biggest you will ever meet. But we both know I treat you better than the psychopaths in your family.”

  When I don’t respond, he presses his lips on mine, powerful and owning. Like he’s daring me to disagree with him. There isn’t a hair on my head that doubts his statement, though. I grew up with Reyes men, and even though I consider them my family, being bound by blood, I’ve known for a very long time that they are a sadistic bunch of men. They thrive on power based on fear, feeding off the weak. And I realized a long time ago that doing that doesn’t make you anything other than a psychopath. The Carrillo brothers are a lot of things, but they are not psychopaths. Their men are mercenaries, but the look in their eyes tells me they respect Kane and Liam. Psychopaths are feared. Kings are respected.

  His kiss elicits all the feelings I’ve been doing my best to deny, but that I no longer can.

  I trust this man.

  I want this man.

  I want to stay with this man.

  I want to be his queen.

  His grip on my throat tightens, but it doesn’t scare me like Fernando’s had.

  “Now whatever you’ve got running through that tight little body of yours, get it out of your system. Spit it out so I can tell you to shut up, or keep your mouth shut.”

  The look on his face lacks sympathy, being exactly the asshole I like the most. The one who doesn’t give me any room to bullshit around because he refuses to deal with that.

  “Fuck you,” I growl, just to piss him off.

  “Shut. Up.” His voice is rough and demanding. “Don’t you fucking dare throw yourself a pity party. You’ve been clawing your way out of every fucked-up situation you’ve ever found yourself in. Don’t go playing the victim now. You’re no goddamn victim. You don’t need to be saved.”

  I purse my lips, pissed at his words, but I can’t deny them. I’m not one to whine, although that’s what I’ve been doing for the last thirty minutes. Dwelling on my own misery.

  Hoping to drink it all away.

  Yeah, because that always works.

  “Why are you involved with the Italians?”

  Annoyed, I exhale loudly.

  “Not your concern.”

  “Everything about you is my concern,” he refutes while he tightens his grip a little bit more.

  I stare into his arctic eyes for a few seconds, getting lost in his hypnotizing gaze, not willing to share about my mess with the Distuccis.

  Not yet.

  “Tell me the truth.” My voice is pleading as I bring my hands up to run through his hair.

  His eyes move from left to right, trying to understand my request.

  “Tell me the truth,” I repeat. “Make me believe you’re not the enemy. Did my father steal from you, or are you stealing from him?”

  “Why does it matter so much to you?”

  I let out a soft chuckle before my eyes bore a hole through his, hoping to find the answer I’m looking for.

  “I need to know who the bigger asshole is.”

  Surprise hits his eyes before a long sigh escapes his mouth. His lips crash into mine again before he cups my butt and wraps my legs around his body. I want to protest under his touch, but he keeps me in a firm grip as he walks us back to the bed.

  He sits down on the edge, my hips straddling his, before he breaks our kiss.

  His hand brushes my cheek, then he fists my hair, forcing me to look at him.

  “Your father stole my Rustenburg diamonds.”

  “The Rustenburg?” I ask, wide eyed.

  I’ve heard about it. The Rustenburg Diamonds are the biggest diamonds there are. The first was found in 1890 in one of the South Africa mines. Originally, it was one big stone, but the first owner decided to divide it into three diamonds, all shaped differently.

  A heart, a star, and a round.

  The heart and the star have been missing since the twenties, but the round is rumored to have changed owners every few years.

  He nods once with a hum.

  “Of course, you own The Rustenburg. Fifty million is a lot of money. Is that what I’m worth?”

  My hands move to his scruff, silently asking him for more.

  “N
o. He took all The Rustenburgs.”

  I jerked my head back, making sure I heard what he said correctly.

  My eyes widen in surprise while a smug grin appears on his face. Small, but still smug.

  “You own all three Rustenburgs? I thought they got lost through the years?”

  He presses my body tighter to his.

  “Not really. They were my grandmother’s. They have been passed down through the generations for a hundred years.”

  I chuckle, knowing enough about this man to know the answer to my next question.

  “And that made it personal.”

  He smiles with a hint of pride in his eyes. Like he likes that I know him. That I know what pisses him off, and that I know how he will react.

  “Cristina made it personal. Stealing from us started a war.”

  I examine his face for a while, realizing he means every word.

  “So I’m worth $100 million?”

  “No. I’m taking them all.”

  “All of them?” I echo.

  “The Rustenburgs, The Griff, the set of Ocean blues, and the Russian jewelry.”

  My heart drops a bit, and I try to hide my surprise. I’ve been looking for the Russian jewelry since the day my mother died. They’re mine. My paternal grandmother got them from her Russian lover in the first war, when her husband was fighting in the trenches. She gave the jewelry to her daughter, who gave it to her until my mother finally got them as the eldest female heir. When my mother died, Imogen and I were next in line. We searched every possible place they could have been, but they were nowhere to be found.

  When I asked my father about them, he’d said he had no idea.

  “The Russians? My dad has the Russians?”

  Kane nods in confirmation.

  That lying son of a bitch.

  I try to wrap my brain around this new set of information, wondering what else I don’t know. What else does my father keep from me?

  What else does he lie about?

  “So how much am I worth?” I finally ask.

  “You’re priceless, baby,” he whispers against my lips, making my heart melt. “But the stones are worth $150 million.”

  I smile, softly stroking his cheek before I cover his mouth with mine, running my tongue along his lips, demanding him to open up to me. He responds by fisting my hair and pulling my head back. My gaze meets his, and I notice the longing in his eyes. It’s heated and desperate. I know because I feel the same. He holds my gaze for a few seconds as if he has a burning question to ask.

  Before he opens his mouth, I beat him to it.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I admit, feeling scared to death over voicing my thoughts. I feel my heart racing, hoping he won’t break my heart, realizing I’ve laid all my cards on the table.

  I’ve gone all in, risking my biggest possession: my heart.

  Silently, I’m desperately begging him to keep it intact and not shatter it.

  “Then don’t,” he replies, and a wave of relief washes over my body.

  “Make the trade for us, then come back to me.” I look into his eyes, looking for any lies lurking on the surface. His blue eyes are beaming and compelling, but I fail to see any deceit.

  “Will you kill my family?” My voice is small and careful because I know mentioning them will piss him off. They treat me like shit, but I don’t want their blood on my hands. I can’t live with that guilt. I can’t be the one who signs their death certificates.

  He stays quiet, thinking over my question, just staring into my eyes for what feels like forever. His blue eyes seem to grow lighter with every heartbeat, as if I’m the light that makes them beam until he breaks the silence.

  “I won’t kill your dad if you ask me to, but Junior and Cristina … Liam needs his revenge.”

  I nod my head in understanding, knowing I would do exactly the same if I was in his place.

  “So you’ll stay with me after this?” His fingers dig deeper into my skin, as if he refuses to let me go no matter what answer I give him.

  The corner of my mouth rises into a wide grin.

  “Yes, I will stay with you.”

  35

  Callie

  Present Day

  We all just finished our dinners and are enjoying our drinks, when Liam says, “We will be arriving in Malaga in two days. We need a plan. Where is your daddy, Reyes?”

  He is sitting on my left at the dining room table, wearing a black v-neck with a black blazer on top, like he’s actually going some place where he needs to dress to impress.

  “Got a date tonight?” I purse my lips, trying to hold the mocking grin that’s trying to burst through.

  He shoots me a dull look before he narrows his eyes with a seducing smile.

  “That depends. Are you finally ready to switch brothers? To the more satisfying brother?”

  I glance at Kane, who has the expression of a statue, even though his eyes are instantly shooting fire towards his brother.

  “You mean the bigger brother,” I tease, rolling my eyes.

  “Yes, the bigger brother.”

  I hear Kane let out a growl, and I can’t help but let the corner of my mouth rise.

  “Shut up, Liam. Your brother is about to have a heart attack.”

  “You started it,” he murmurs before he takes a sip of his whiskey.

  I really hate to admit it, but I feel like we have grown to sort of like each other. He’s still an asshole, but he hasn’t tried to kill me again.

  I’ll take that as a win.

  “So you still haven’t found him yet?” I ask, referring to his previous question.

  He shakes his head while they both keep their eyes focused on me.

  “He’s probably in the caves,” I suggest.

  “He’s not. We’ve combed them all. They’re empty.”

  I look at both of them before I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table.

  “If I am doing this, I need you to promise you won’t kill my father.”

  To be honest, my loyalty doesn’t lie with my family right now, but I can’t completely cut the cord just yet.

  They exchange a brooding look like only the Carrillo brothers can. Sometimes they remind me of Imogen and me. They barely need words to actually communicate.

  After a few seconds, Liam points his gaze back at mine.

  “Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But Junior and Cristina are mine.”

  I shrug my shoulders, not giving a damn about Junior. I don’t want Cristina to die, but I know she is a nonnegotiable for him. I can’t say I blame him.

  “He’s gotta be in the caves,” I repeat.

  “I told you, he is not.” Liam mimics my stance with one blond brow raised.

  These two really have the patience of doorknobs.

  I move my face a little closer towards his with a scowl.

  “You haven’t found him because you haven’t looked deep enough.”

  “We combed them all thoroughly,” he growls.

  I lean back with a cocky grin, wrapping my arms around my body.

  “You combed out what you can see. What’s accessible. It takes a Gitano to actually find the real caves.”

  “Do you know where he is, baby?” Kane asks.

  “Not specifically, no. There are more than a hundred secret caves in Granada.”

  Their faces fall before I can finish.

  “But …” I continue, “luckily for you, my father only uses three of them as his secret quarters. Call him to request a meeting point, and I’ll know exactly where he is.”

  “Why not just tell us all three of the locations right now?” Liam’s eyes are heating up like I’m the enemy again.

  “And give up all my leverage? Nice try, dickhead. I know whatever you’re making me walk in to will become a massacre if any of you bastards get offended by the other. The big chance for my brother to be the first one to light the match. I want protection. I want your protection.” I point my finger at the table while my e
yes move back and forth between the two brothers. I’m not saying shit until they both agree to get me out alive if things go south. I know Kane will get me out, but I’m still not sure about Liam.

  He stares back at me with his intimidating eyes.

  “Give me your word that you will get me out of there. Alive,” I demand again.

  It’s clear that Liam hates how demanding I’m being. If he hadn’t grown to like me these last few days, he would have probably smacked my head against the table by now. The thick vein in his neck is pulsing, rapidly pumping blood into his rigid jaw.

  “You have my word,” he finally concedes.

  I let out a loud exhale, feeling relieved to have both of these men in my corner.

  I hopefully won’t need them, but I have a feeling my brother has some tricks up his sleeve, and I refuse to leave my faith in his hands. He’s made it very clear that my life means shit to him, telling me to my face since we were little.

  Liam gets up and looks at Kane.

  “Let’s call the motherfucker.”

  Kane looks at me with a blank face, his hands in front of his chest.

  “Go ahead, I’ll be there in five minutes,” Kane tells Liam with his eyes glued to mine.

  I can practically feel the heat radiating out of his eyes wash over my body, and I bite my lip.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Liam look at us before he groans and heads for the door.

  “You guys are disgusting,” he mumbles without looking back.

  Kane cocks his head, and I raise my eyebrows in question.

  “Come here.” It’s not a question, but I don’t mind. I’d always thought I didn’t have a submissive bone in my body, but somehow this man can boss me around like it’s nobody’s business. From a young age, I’ve been telling myself I need a man who can accept the dominance in my character, that would let me thrive in it. Never in a million years did I expect me to fall for someone who can actually match me.

  I get up and walk around the table, laying my hands in his before he tugs me onto his lap.

  “You just made my brother bend, do you realize that?” he whispers while he places a soft kiss in the crook of my neck.