Broken Rebel: A Lawless Kings Novel

Home > Contemporary > Broken Rebel: A Lawless Kings Novel > Page 23
Broken Rebel: A Lawless Kings Novel Page 23

by Sherilee Gray


  And I planned on being here to see who showed up.

  Until then, I had time to kill and was headed home . . . When had I started thinking of Neco’s apartment as home? Yeah, I lived there. But it wasn’t like Neco and I had sat down and had a conversation about me moving in permanently. I still had stuff at my old place, things I missed.

  Me continuing to live there was just sort of a given.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  There was no place I’d rather be, and I knew he loved me, but right now, our relationship was tenuous at best. We were lying to each other, keeping secrets. We were like a couple of tornadoes, devouring everything in our path—each other—then flinging shit all over the place. We fucked like we were starved for each other, tuned to every move the other made, every breath. We also fought like wild cats. It was exhausting and exhilarating all at once. I shouldn’t like the way Neco had come at me when I was sparring with Zeke. Being dragged into a stairwell and fucked in a way that screamed possession should not be something I got off on. Maybe it made me messed up, but I don’t think I’d ever been more turned on in my life.

  My stepmother hadn’t wanted me. She’d been the only family I’d had left in the world, and she hadn’t given two shits about me. In fact, I knew she’d hated me. I don’t know if there was a reason for it, or if she was just a hateful bitch. But from the first night I’d run from her, from her vicious, hateful words, and found myself at Neco’s house, wrapped protectively in his arms, him begging me not to cry anymore, I’d known I was somehow his. That he was my safe place, my home.

  My father died when I was just a baby. I didn’t remember anything about him. Neco was the first person that I truly knew cared for me. He’d protected me, treated me like I mattered, and that made me feel more loved than I ever had in my life.

  So yeah, my view on love and healthy relationships was skewed, but so was Neco’s, and right now we were desperately trying to figure it out.

  One thing I knew for sure, though—I wanted to be his. I was his. But I wanted him to be mine as well, all of him, and right now he was holding back from me. He’d buried himself under a pile of fear and anger. Had used control to lock those feelings down deep so he didn’t have to deal with them.

  Somehow, I had to get through to him.

  When I got home, I ordered dinner, and was dishing up Chinese takeout when Neco finally walked in the door.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He dumped his keys on the coffee table and came straight to me, pulling me into his arms. “You have a good day?”

  Fighting down the guilt, I smiled up at him. “Yeah.” He bent his head and kissed me, hard and deep, then lifted his head. “I gotta go back out later, but I’ve got time to have dinner with my girl first.”

  “Good, I got plenty.”

  We sat on the couch and made short work of dinner, making small talk. It was obvious neither one of us wanted to fight, and I was more than good with that. We needed to reconnect, spend time together as a couple. God, the sooner this whole mess was over with, the better.

  I cleared the containers away and dumped them in the trash. “You want a drink?” I called, glancing back at Neco.

  He shook his head, stretching out on the couch, then crooked a finger at me. “Come here.”

  My belly whooshed and my knees felt a little weak as I walked over and joined him on the couch.

  He immediately dragged me over him. One of his knees was bent, resting against the back of the couch, the other down, foot on the floor. I was resting between his spread thighs, our bellies and chests plastered together. My nipples started tingling, and so did farther south.

  He slid his fingers into my hair, eyes locked on mine. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I whispered.

  His lips curved up on one side. “You wanna make out?”

  “Yes,” I said instantly.

  He chuckled. “You going to let me cop a feel?”

  I gave him a coy look. “Over the bra or under?”

  “Under,” he said voice getting deeper, rougher.

  “Okay. But I’m a good girl, so we need to take it slow.”

  He groaned. He was fully hard now, pressed against my pubic bone. But the way we were lying, keeping my legs firmly pressed together, was pure torture.

  “Will you let me put my hand down your pants?” he rasped.

  “Over the panties or under?” I said, hearing the needy rasp in my own voice.

  His eyes were the color of jade now, dark but bright, mesmerizing. “Under.”

  My breathing was a little choppy and I squirmed, squeezing my legs together tighter. We both groaned. “Okay, but you need to tell me you love me first.”

  “I love you,” he said in a rough whisper. “So fucking much.”

  My heart started pounding in my chest. “I love you, too.”

  “Kiss me,” he said.

  I didn’t need to be asked twice. I pressed my mouth to his, a soft moan escaping when he tilted his head and spiked his tongue past my lips, kissing me hard and deep. My toes curled.

  He slid his bent knee down and tugged mine apart, shoving his thigh back up against my now hot, aching flesh. I ground down against him.

  He didn’t stop kissing me while we dry humped like horny teenagers. His hand slid down the back of my pants, cupping and squeezing my ass, skin to skin.

  “Fuck, Ruby,” he said against my lips, pulling his hand free, moving it to the front. He tugged at the button of my jeans, shoving down the zipper, and then his fingers were between my thighs, sliding over my slick flesh. “Baby,” he muttered, on a rough exhale, then started rubbing my clit in a maddening way that had me panting. “Ride my fingers, sweetheart.”

  I did, while I worked the front of his jeans open and shoved my hand inside, curling my fingers around his thick, hard length, and started stroking.

  We attacked each other’s mouths after that, not stopping as we worked at getting each other off. He slid a finger deep inside me and I broke apart on a cry.

  He cursed and his hips surged up and I knew he was about to come. Last time I’d had him in my mouth, he hadn’t let me taste him, and I wanted to taste him, more than anything. So, I slid down his body, before he knew what I was doing, forcing his hand free of my pants as I did, and sucked his cock into my mouth, as deep as I could take him.

  His hips rolled up again, fingers tangling in my hair, fisting. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  The thick vein on the underside pulsed against my tongue, his groans filling the room as I sucked him deep over and over again. I shoved my free hand up his shirt, reveling in the feel of his abs bunching and flexing against my palm every time I sucked him hard, the way his solid thighs flexed either side of me.

  Then his hips jerked and he started coming. I gloried in it, in his shout and growls, the way his body shook under me, and swallowed him down, everything he had. I sucked him until he started to soften, then finally I released him with a pop, and looked up at him.

  His eyes were aimed at me and for the first time in a long time, they were warm, soft. It was a beautiful sight to see.

  I grinned. “I take it you liked that?”

  He dragged me back up, cupping my jaw, and tugged me down for a hard kiss, tasting himself on my tongue. When we broke apart, he stroked his thumb across my cheek, my chin. “I’m still trying to get it through my head that this is my reality,” he said. “That you’re finally mine.” He kissed me again softly. “That this is real.”

  “Neco . . .”

  “I’m not going to wake up in my bed alone and this be some beautiful dream, am I?”

  I nuzzled his jaw. “If it is, I must be dreaming, too. Let’s make a pact never to wake up,” I whispered.

  The softness in his eyes got even softer, and then we were kissing again, achingly slow, full of everything we were feeling.

  He tightened his arms around me. “Ruby . . . I think we need to talk . . .”
r />   Someone knocked at the door.

  He cursed and I wanted to do the same. “Hunt’s here to pick me up.”

  I nodded, wanting desperately for him to finish that sentence. He didn’t move straight away, kissing me again instead—until there was another knock.

  I climbed off him reluctantly and we did up our pants. Neco strode to the door and yanked it open.

  Hunter’s eyebrows were high. “What took you so long?” Then his eyes drifted to me and a grin curled his lips. “Hey, Ruby.”

  My cheeks heated, guessing what I looked like. I reached up and ran my fingers though my hair. “Hey, Hunter.”

  “Sorry to interrupt you kids, but we’ve got some place to be.”

  Neco shook his head, ignoring his friend, scooped up his keys from the coffee table, then came to me and planted a hard kiss in my lips. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. It’ll be late. Lock up after me?”

  I nodded and offered a little wave when he turned back to me before he walked out the door.

  I stared after him for a long time. I wanted more of that. Of the tender kisses, the beautiful moments.

  But until we knew who was behind that website, Neco wouldn’t rest. We wouldn’t get our happily ever after.

  Heading to our room, I quickly switched to my contact lenses, then changed into dark jeans and a navy long sleeve T-shirt, tied my hair back in a ponytail, and dragged on my jacket. I slid my gun into the back of my jeans, and my new Taser in my bag, then fired a quick text to Harry before I left, telling him I’d be there to pick him up shortly.

  Scooping up my keys, I headed out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Neco

  “All set?” Hunter said from my office door.

  “Yeah, I’ll be up in a sec.”

  Hunter gave me a chin lift and headed up to reception. He didn’t work in the field as much anymore, but tonight he was playing lookout for Van and me. The job we were doing required a little B&E and Hunter would make sure we didn’t get any unwelcome surprises.

  I thought about Ruby, probably curled up in my bed by now, and an ache started low in my gut. Jesus, she’d been so beautiful tonight. I’d needed that. Time to play, to make her feel good, to just hold her, be with her, and not talk about the fucking case.

  Or dwell on how shitty I felt for the way I’d behaved when I found her sparring with Zeke, the way I’d overreacted just thinking about her out in the field, having to use those same skills on some faceless asshole. Somehow, I had to get past my issues and figure out a way to trust her to take care of herself—like she trusted me.

  My phone started ringing.

  I pulled it from my pocket and checked the screen. Tomas.

  I frowned. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve got something,” he said, voice low.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Colin Edwards.”

  “What does he have to do with this?” I knew of the guy, he was loaded, hid his criminal activities behind legitimate business, but he’d made a lot of enemies with the way he did business, Tomas being one of them.

  “I hear he wants your girl, and he’s prepared to pay to get her.”

  I froze. “Come again?”

  “Edwards likes to watch, and he indulged that particular interest through the website Ruby’s images were being streamed to. He became her . . . biggest fan, you could say.”

  Adrenaline started pumping though me hard and fast. “Go on.”

  “He wanted her. Tried to buy her through the scum who put those cameras in her room.” He paused. “That isn’t the kind of business my associates at Imperious are interested in, but this guy is powerful enough that whoever he contacted about buying Ruby decided to make an exception. From what I hear, Edwards is getting impatient.”

  “He’s dead,” I gritted down the line.

  A pause. “My contact tells me there’s a meeting happening tonight, to renegotiate terms.”

  “Does he know where Ruby is?”

  “I doubt it, or why would he bother with a middle man?” Tomas was quiet a few seconds. “Then again, that would be too messy for Edwards. He doesn’t like doing his own dirty work. It would suit him to leave that part of the transaction to someone else.”

  Which meant this middleman either knew where Ruby was or thought he could get to her when he needed to.

  “That everything?” I forced out, anger, murderous rage, distorting my voice.

  “Yes. I’ll text you the location.”

  I hung up and pounded up the stars to Hunter’s office.

  I walked in and Hunter lifted his head, eyes locking on me. “What’s going on?”

  “Change of plans.” I held his stare. “I’m going to need the van.”

  “Fuck,” Hunter muttered.

  * * *

  Ruby

  I hunkered down beside the warehouse, across the street from the abandoned hotel building I’d scoped out with Harry earlier that day—only this time it wasn’t abandoned. I hadn’t seen anyone arrive or leave, but when I’d gotten there, there was light coming through the cracks in one of the boarded-up windows on the second floor.

  The streetlights directly outside the building were out, smashed, and I guessed this was on purpose. There was some shady shit going on in that building, no doubt. And as much as I wanted to crack this case wide open, I wasn’t going to do something reckless. At this point, our aim was to ID the main players so we could nail these fuckers and close them down.

  “I’m taking a closer look,” Harry said. “Keep a look out and text me if you see anyone.”

  I nodded.

  Ducking low, Harry sprinted across the street and down the side of the building.

  There was so much that didn’t add up about this whole thing. All we had to go on was what Harry’s informant told us about the note I found on Scott’s body—that some creep with a thing for watching brunettes on porn sites was meeting with the fuckers that ordered Scott to put cameras in my room. All the hypothetical reasons we could come up for this meeting were more than a little terrifying.

  A shiver arrowed down my spine . . .

  A car turned onto the street, headlights lighting up the road.

  Fuck.

  They’d see me if I didn’t take cover. Keeping my back against the warehouse, using the shadows, I moved as quickly as I could to the rear of the building and waited for the car to pass. But it didn’t. I heard it pull to a stop, the engine cutting off. I peeked around the edge. A car was parked outside the building.

  I slid my phone from my back pocket, ducked back, opened my contacts, and hit Harry’s number.

  “Yeah?”

  “Get the hell out of there. Someone’s here.”

  The sound of doors opening and closing echoed from the other side of the street.

  “Shit.” Harry disconnected.

  If I stayed back here, I could be missing something vital, something that could lock these assholes up. I couldn’t risk missing something important. So I eased up the way I’d come, back to my spot, against the front, right side of the building, giving me a clear view of the building across the street but keeping me concealed in shadow.

  I took a better look at the car. It was black, expensive looking, with dark tinted windows—yeah, nothing ominous about that at all.

  The driver’s door opened and a man climbed out and opened the back for whomever he was driving. Another guy got out, average height, wearing a dark suit. There was nothing standout about him, but something about the way he held himself screamed money, self-importance.

  Edwards.

  Maybe.

  They headed to the main doors and the suit pulled something out of his pocket as he walked. A key obviously, because he unlocked the large padlock holding the door closed a second later and they both disappeared inside.

  Shit. Where the hell are you, Harry?

  I was trying to decide what the hell to do when another car rolled up. This one nothing special. A blue sedan, a few years old.r />
  Two people climbed out. I couldn’t get a clear view of them, but they were talking, their voices a low murmur. One deep, the other higher, a woman.

  They went inside as well.

  I cursed under my breath. Harry must be hunkered down somewhere out of sight. God, I hoped so anyway.

  I stared across at the building, down the side, into the darkness, hoping like hell Harry would appear any minute and give me some indication that he was okay. Fifteen minutes ticked by and nothing. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Harry could be in danger, could be hurt, I need to call in backup . . .

  The door opened and the driver of the black car walked out . . . Harry was with him. He was stumbling, his face was messed up, and there was blood dripping from his nose.

  The other guy opened the trunk and shoved Harry in and slammed it shut. Then he straightened his jacket and walked back inside.

  Holy fuck!

  I had to do something, now. If they left with Harry, I knew I’d never see him again. It didn’t take genius to work out what happened next.

  Panic surged inside me, but I fought it back down. Harry needed me; there was no time for anything or anyone else.

  I stared at the building across the street. The light was still on, and I hoped like fuck that meant they were hanging around in there for a little longer.

  With one last glance down either side of the street, I ducked low and sprinted over. “I’m gonna get you out, Harry.”

  No one was coming yet. My adrenaline shot higher as I pulled the lock picks from my wallet and started working on the trunk, a skill Neco had taught me the second time Valery went away for a week and locked me out of the house. Blood was pumping so hard though my veins, it roared through my ears. It seemed to take forever before I heard the click and release of the lock. I yanked the trunk open and Harry squinted up at me, eyes already swelling shut.

  “Thank fuck,” he muttered.

  “Quick,” I whispered and grabbed his arm, helping him out. “We need to get the hell out of here . . .”

  Someone grabbed me from behind, yanking me back roughly, and at the same time, raised their arm and fired off a shot. Harry went down, hitting the ground hard. I twisted, coming face to face with the driver of the black car.

 

‹ Prev