by Lovell, LP
“Nate isn’t the problem right now.” I release a long breath and fall forward, resting my forehead to his chest. His hands smooth down my back, stroking the length of my hair. “What am I going to do, Judas?” I slide my palm up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “I don’t want to leave you.” My voice cracks and my eyes prickle with tears. His chin rests on top of my head — his hot breath stirring the strands of my hair.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Delilah.”
I sniff back tears and scrunch a handful of his shirt. “You can’t promise that, Judas. I’m guilty.” I shake my head and lift my face from his chest. He glances down at me, a small smirk playing over his lips.
“Little lamb, you forget who I am.” He presses his lips to mine. “I’m a Kingsley. We run this city.”
And as he speaks the words, I believe him, the same way I always believe Judas. I trust him when he says he’ll protect me, and I never feel safer than when I’m right here, in his arms.
Judas is a bad man, and it’s that which keeps me safe. The devil protects his own.
23
Judas
I lie there, listening to Delilah’s soft breaths. My bedroom that once smelled of cologne and laundry detergent is now laced with the sweet vanilla scent that seems to cling to her skin. I slowly pull my arm away from her, my fingertips brushing over the satin-soft skin of her waist. She stirs, a soft sigh leaving her lips before she settles back against the pillows once more.
Slipping from the bed, I leave the room, pulling the door closed with a hushed click. The apartment is dark and silent — the only sound the incessant ticking of the clock on the living room wall. Somewhere beyond the walls, a cat starts yowling, and there’s the distant wail of an ambulance siren.
Taking a seat at the dining room table, I scroll through my phone until I land on Jase’s number. Tapping it, I listen to the dial tone.
“Judas, how are you?”
“I need you to look into something for me.”
“Great. Yeah, I’m good, thanks,” Jase mutters sarcastically.
“Jase,” I growl.
He huffs out a breath. “Fuck me, you’re almost as bad as Saint.”
“That’s a bit extreme.”
He laughs. “What do you need?”
“Could you hunt down an autopsy report?”
He sucks on his teeth. “Tricky, but it can be done. Give me a couple of days. Whose report?”
“Isabelle Wright.”
“Done. As it’s you, and we’re family, I’ll charge you the usual.” He laughs again and hangs up. The family thing is a running joke to Jase. If Saint didn’t pay him so well, I’m sure his loyalty would fall elsewhere.
And thinking of Saint…he’s next.
I dial again, and I’d be lying if I said my heart rate doesn’t rise a little as I wait to hear my brother’s voice. He has this way of making the most hardened men nervous. My father doesn’t even like being in a room with him.
“Judas.”
“Saint.”
“What do you want?”
“We need to meet.” What I have to discuss with him, he definitely won’t want to talk about over the phone. You could be on an encrypted line, and the paranoid fucker would still shit a brick.
“Fine. Your church, tomorrow morning.”
“What? You never do morning meetings.”
“Do you want an appointment or not?”
I sigh. “Fine. What time?”
“Nine.” The lines goes dead, and I frown. Does he ever sleep?
The corner lamp suddenly comes on, and I squint against the light spilling into the room. Delilah leans against the wall right next to it, an over-sized jumper hanging from one shoulder, the ends of the sleeves scrunched in her balled fists. She hugs herself, and the material rides up, revealing her lace underwear beneath. Those damn woolly socks are pulled up, one over her knee and the other slipping below. She’s the picture of innocence, and it makes me want to bury my dick in her and dirty her up. Every fucking time.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice still raspy with sleep.
“Come here.”
She obeys immediately, walking over to where I sit in the shadows. My fingers trail over the soft skin at the back of her thigh, and I tug her forward until she folds into my lap, her legs spread either side. I slide my palms under her jumper, feeling the searing heat of her back. Curling into a ball, she presses herself to my chest, tucking her head beneath my chin. She’s like a warm, sleepy little kitten.
“Why are you up?” she whispers.
“I had to make some calls.”
“You know, you can do your whole bad guy thing in front of me,” she mumbles, and I laugh.
“Bad guy thing?”
She nods against my throat. “You don’t have to sneak out of bed.”
“There was no sneaking.”
She lifts her head and drapes her arms over my shoulders. Full lips tilt in a playful smile as her eyes drop to my mouth. “Well, if that were true, then I’d still be in bed with the hot priest.” Leaning in, she brushes her lips over the corner of my mouth. “Instead, I’m out here with this dodgy-looking drug boss.”
“So you think the priest is hotter?”
She shrugs her bare shoulder, and her arms tighten, folding around my neck. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”
“That so?” Grabbing her arse, I stand up, placing her back down on the dining room table.
“Mmmhmm.” She brings her lips to my ear. “That’s why I fucked the priest in a confessional. Then he was so very bad.”
I groan, and she sits back, looking up at me through those long lashes. One side of her bottom lip disappears between her teeth, and she has no idea what that look does to me. The girl can turn my dick to stone with a glance.
Placing my lips to her neck, I swipe my tongue over her skin. My fingers meet the lace of her underwear and the breathy little gasp that leaves her is the sweetest sound. Pushing the lace to the side, I ram two fingers inside her, and it’s beautiful, it really is. Her lips part, her lashes sweeping over her cheekbones as waves of dark hair tumble to her waist. Everything pauses for a second, the world holding its breath to witness her perfection.
Her nails rake over the back of my neck, and I smile as she starts to lose control. She’s so responsive, so compliant, so wet for me.
“I want to taste you, little lamb,” I breathe against the length of her exposed throat.
Dropping to my knees, I wrench her underwear to the side and do exactly that. She tastes like sin and salvation, sweet temptation and burning torture. Her hand goes to my hair, nails scratching over my scalp.
“Judas.” Her voice trembles along with her thighs, her entire body pulled tight like the string of a bow, just waiting to release. Her back hits the dining room table, and her legs drape over my shoulders. The way her body contorts, it’s like she’s possessed, and I’m an exorcist trying to tear her in half. Within seconds, she lets it fly, fracturing apart as she does. With every touch, every caress of my tongue over her body, each movement of my fingers, she comes to life. When her body finally relaxes, she crumples like a broken little doll.
Pushing to my feet, I look down at her sprawled on my dining room table, her dark hair spilling around her as her chest rises and falls heavily.
“If you think you can distract me, it won’t work,” she pants.
I laugh, pushing her jumper up and kissing her stomach. “Ah, sweet Delilah, I have you right where I want you. And you’re completely distracted.”
Sitting up, she slides from the table and simply walks across the living room, her hips swinging. “Are you coming to bed?” She flashes me a sensuous smile, and I find myself following her instinctually. Now who’s distracted?
* * *
I spot Saint sitting in the front pew, his head dropped to his chest and his hands clasped in front of him. Even from here, there’s something about Saint that�
�s just fundamentally wrong. He’s too still. Like when you walk into woodland and hear no bird call; it’s unsettling. Unnatural. That is what Saint is; the stone cold silence of a forest with a predator in its midst. I take a seat beside him and wait because I know what he’s like about communing with God. After a few moments, he lifts his head and stares straight ahead.
“You wanted to talk, so talk.”
“I need a favour.”
He finally turns his gaze to me, ice-cold eyes searching for weaknesses. “Your favours are growing tiresome, Judas.”
I sigh. He’s so dramatic. “Two in the last couple of months. Before that, the last time I asked you for anything we were fourteen, and I had to owe you a sin just so you wouldn’t run your mouth to Ma.”
“I don’t hand out favours.”
“Then I’ll owe you.”
“You can’t owe more than one sin at a time.” We put these rules in place when we were twelve after I owed Saint so many sins that he decided to cash in all on one day. We went to a strict Catholic school, and we were constantly trying to get the other expelled. He made me slash the head teacher’s tyres, start a fire in the cafeteria, punch David Loughton in the nose and get caught finger-fucking Daisy Johnson in the girl’s locker room. That last one got me expelled.
“We aren’t twelve anymore.”
“The rules are the rules.” He lifts a brow. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll consider.”
“You have half the police in London on your payroll. I need you to find out what they have in relation to the Isabelle Wright case.”
“Ah, yes, the girl who overdosed in your club. Careless, Judas.”
“There’s a girl they’re looking into. She’s linked to Nathaniel Hewitt. I think he works for the Moretti family.”
“What’s her name?”
“Delilah Thomas.”
He says nothing for long moments. “You want to know what they have on her.”
“I need her. Not behind bars.”
“Why? What is she to you?” His eyes narrow. I can’t tell him about Delilah. Saint loves nothing more than a weakness, and by giving him this; I’m basically showing him my throat.
“I suspect that there is more to this overdose. I have a plan to fuck over the Italians. I just need her in order to pull it off …” He says nothing, simply staring, waiting. I roll my eyes. “She knows a lot about the Moretti’s operation.”
“And yours?”
I know where he’s going with this. The idea that Delilah might know something will be enough to set Saint on edge. One wrong word to the police and they have a warrant to go through everything. He and I are linked by more than just blood thanks to Harold Dawson.
“She doesn’t know anything about my business.”
He stares at me until it becomes uncomfortable, but I’m used to it with Saint. I know not to show him that it unsettles me. “Is she business or pleasure?”
“Business,” I say instantly because if he thinks she’s anything more, he’ll use her to fuck with me. Such is the way Saint thinks and operates.
A slow smile pulls at his lips, and I know from that one look that I’ve made an error. “I’ll find out what you want, and I’ll put a stop to any investigation into the girl, but you’ll owe me a sin.”
“You just said I couldn’t owe you more than one.”
“I’m cashing one in.”
My chest tightens in anticipation because I just know he’s about to drop a bomb. “What do you want me to do?”
His eyes lock with mine, nothing but pure calculation shining through them. “Kill Delilah Thomas.”
My fists clench, and my heart stumbles for a beat, but I keep it all off my face. “Why?”
“She’s either a weakness or a liability. Either way, brother, you’re coming to me, asking me to help this girl. The very fact that she needs help makes her a problem.”
“I told you I need her. She’s just a girl.”
He pushes to his feet and smooths a hand down the front of his jacket. “Then she should be no great loss. Get what you need and kill her.”
Fuck. Fuck! “I’m not going to kill her, Saint.” He pauses halfway up the aisle and turns to face me.
“Oh? So she is pleasure then?” He’s pleased with himself, delighted in fact. He’s got me right where he wants me, and what can I do? Right now? Nothing.
“She’s useful.” I’m lying through my teeth, and I know he sees it.
He smirks and turns away, strolling towards the doors. “What was it father always said? Everyone but family is disposable.”
“I’ll need time,” I shout after him.
“A week should be sufficient,” he calls without ever turning around. God, he’s a dick.
24
Delilah
When I get out of class, I head across campus and start walking to the tube station. A car rolls to a halt beside me and the window rolls down.
“Get in,” a familiar voice calls. Judas.
I open the door and slide into the leather seat. “Did I forget we were supposed to meet or something?”
His face looks as though it’s carved from granite as he pulls back out into the stream of traffic. “We need to talk.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Judas has been distant for the last few days, constantly busy. I haven’t even stayed at his place for the past two nights. Nate said he would tire of me. Does he know something I don’t?
His hand lands on my thigh, and it’s really doing nothing to reassure me. We drive for a few minutes, and then he pulls into a car park in front of a small park. The engine cuts and the following silence feels oppressive in the space of the car.
“Look, if you’re not happy…”
He frowns at me. “Delilah. Don’t be ridiculous.” His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly as he stares through the windscreen at a couple of kids kicking a football around.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
“You didn’t kill Isabelle and Charles.”
“What?”
“Their tox reports had been buried, but after you told me what Nathaniel said, ‘a couple of dead kids isn’t enough to keep a Kingsley down’, I had someone look into it.” I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat and swipe my clammy palms over my skirt. “They found MDMA and PMA in their blood. In high doses.”
“The pills were bad?”
His gaze meets mine. “A trace of PMA in a pill could be a mistake, a bad pill, but this is not a mistake.”
“So the pills Nate gave me were deliberately laced to kill?”
“Yes, but they could have got them from somewhere else after you saw them. Or…”
“Or what?”
“Or Nate created a couple of dead kids to try and keep a Kingsley down.”
I pull my knees to my chest and rest my forehead on them. This is not happening. “He wouldn’t kill someone,” I say, but hysteria is already creeping in.
“The same way he wouldn’t beat his girlfriend to a pulp?”
“Oh my god.” I close my eyes as my thoughts start buzzing through my head like swarming bees. “That’s fucked up, Judas. What do we do? I have to tell the police.”
“Delilah.” He waits until I turn my head to the side and meet his gaze. “You need proof. At this stage, if we turn this over to them, all it proves is that her death was very much intentional and not an accident. The big red arrow still points to you. You’re the only person that they can remotely say had contact with Isabelle or her boyfriend.”
“Shit.” I drag a trembling hand through my hair. “He framed me.”
He looks back out the windscreen. “You’re his scapegoat. He threatens you, so he knows you’ll keep quiet. The police will get what they need, and send you down for his crime.”
I swipe angrily at the tears that trickle down my cheeks. I’m mad. I’m mad at Nate for being such a dick, for making me believe that he cared for me when I was nothing more than a naïve pawn. I’m mad for Isabelle because e
veryone is out there thinking she’s just a stupid girl who took one too many pills and killed herself. In reality, she was just a girl out for a good time. I’m angry at the injustice of it all — at the fact that Nate will probably get away with it.
“We need more than just that tox report.” He regards me for a moment. “We’re going to give them what they want.”
“And what is that?”
“You’re going to give the police what they want. You’re going to hand them Nate.”
“Are you insane? They’ll kill me.”
“No.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “They won’t. I have a plan.”
My chest constricts, and suddenly the air in the car feels thin. Throwing the door open, I step outside and walk a little way into the park. I hear a car door slam behind me.
“Delilah!”
I still, tipping my head back and sucking in deep lungfuls of air. I sense Judas right behind me, but he doesn’t touch me. “Why are you doing this?” I turn and face him. He stands with his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers. I want to believe that he would do this for me, but everything I know of men like Judas Kingsley tells me not to be so damn naïve — like I was with Nate. If I do this…I’d be trusting him with my life. “You want to get back at Nate for fucking you over?”
“Is that what you think?”
“I think you’re a businessman.”
Stepping forward, he wraps a hand around the back of my neck, tugging me until I’m plastered against him. The warm spring breeze whips around us, sending my hair sprawling across my face.
I clutch his wrist, and his forehead touches mine. An unspoken answer. “This can’t be business, Judas.”
“You’re so far from business, little lamb.” His voice is clipped and strained.
God, I’m in so much trouble with him. He holds my heart in his hand, and he doesn’t even know. I wonder when Judas became so vital to me. When did he become the centre of my world?
“I hate this,” I breathe.
“Look at me.” I meet the deep blue of his gaze, but for once, there’s no mischievous glint, no hardened façade, just…him. And I don’t think I ever realised how guarded he usually is until this point. I feel like I can see his soul, his truth. “I’m walking a fine line here, Delilah. It’s in my nature to destroy anything that gets in my way. Nathaniel normally wouldn’t be a blip on my radar, but now your fate is entwined with his. He’s holding a gun to your head, and in turn mine.”