by J Bree
“Anything for you, princess,” the dickhead says and Lips scoffs at him.
“Where are you staying?” the Jackal asks again, his voice harder. I roll my shoulders back, ready to grab the fuck if he goes for a weapon.
Lips shrugs. “Arbour is heading back up the coast and I have a few jobs lined up. I’m meeting with a friend at the docks to discuss the terms of my acceptance. You know I only take certain jobs.”
He speaks through his gritted teeth. “I’m not asking what you’re doing in the Bay, I’m asking where you’re staying.”
She pauses and then with a flat voice she says, “And I’m choosing not to provide you with that information. I told you months ago, I’m learning to stand on my own two feet. I appreciate the ride, but I’m on my own. It’s me and Arbour, and any other person I choose to induct. If you wanted me to be one of yours, you should have inducted me instead of sponsoring me.”
“I tried. You told me you’d rather die,” he snaps.
That’s news to me. I look up and meet her eyes.
I know why Floss warned me not to look at her around the Jackal; I can’t keep the longing and the worship out of my face, and only Lips has been blind to it. I can’t help but look at her now and the clenching on the Jackal’s jaw lets me know he sees it for what it is.
Lips stares at me as she replies to him, “I will never be owned, and certainly not by you. I’m the Wolf.”
I’m fucking flirting with danger, I know it deep in my bones, but I grin at her with the savage joy that her words rip through me. She tips her head back and laughs like a lunatic, and that’s when I know she does feel fear. She’s just as affected by this as I am.
The car pulls into the docks and the Jackal’s hand tightens on her knee until she grunts. I lurch forward and grab his wrist, ready to choke the fucker out if I have to, and he reaches for his gun with his free hand. At the click of a gun to my right, I tense up.
“You’re hurting the little girlie, Jackal. Best you let her go,” Diarmuid croons.
Luca parks the car and flings the door open, presumably to help his boss now he has a loaded gun pointed at him, but there’s a beat of silence before he says, “Boss. You’d better get out of the car.”
The Jackal is sneering at Diarmuid as he wrenches his wrist out of my hand. “Pointing a gun at me? You’re a fucking dead man, O’Cronin.”
Diarmuid clucks at him. “Hurting a fellow member of the Twelve? You wouldn’t want that getting back to the meetings, now would you? Think of what the Crow would do to you, he’s been waiting a long time to take you out.”
“She’s mine!” he roars, grabbing her arm, and the door on his side of the car is ripped open with such force I think it will tear right off the hinges.
“Get your fucking hands off her, D’Ardo!” roars the newcomer. My eyes stay glued on the Jackal until he drops her arm. He looks out the door, grimacing, and finally his face shifts into something close to wary.
I blow out a breath and yank Lips into my arms, shoving us both out of the door on the other side of the car. She’s not shaking, no racing heart in her chest or shallow breathing, but I can’t say I’m as unaffected by the little spat. Once we’re out, and I’ve run my hands over her to be sure he didn’t fucking knife her without me noticing, I glance up only to find the fucking Butcher of the Bay staring back at me.
I gape back at him like an idiot. He winks at me.
Fuck me.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“I told you, I called for reinforcements. Illi’s a good guy, the best,” the Mounty whispers in my ear and then pulls away from me, stepping back into her role as the Wolf.
A good guy.
He’s a cage fighter, a trained killer, his weapons of choice are his fists or a fucking meat cleaver, he shows no mercy and has no conscience, and, according to my crazy hot girlfriend, he’s a good guy.
I think I’m going to have a fucking stroke.
Chapter One
Spying on clients for the Tiger is my favorite type of work.
I’m picky about what I’ll do for him. I’ve made it pretty fucking clear to him that I will not take out innocent witnesses just to keep his dirty clients out of prison and he’s good about finding me work that is okay with my morals.
Which is how I find myself dressed like a Mounty street girl at three in the morning outside a bar fending off sleazy, drunk assholes.
Leaning my overheated, sticky back against the brick wall while I’m staring at my phone should be a big enough indicator that I’m not currently selling but three broken fingers later and I’m still having to tell guys to fuck off. Not that I’m selling at all, it’s just the best spot to find the information I’m after without attracting too much attention.
My phone vibrates silently in my hand and I cringe before opening the new text.
Right. Where the fuck are you? If you don’t tell me I’m texting the group message and you can explain this shit to Avery.
Ugh. I’d told Harley not to come down until after ten in the morning. I wanted to finish up the job and sneak in three hours of sleep before I had to deal with the fallout of our ‘chat’ with the Jackal, but in typical Harley style he drove down to the Bay from his hotel on the coast early. I’d called the POA and gotten him into the townhouse in the gated community I’ve rented, but the barrage of text messages has only gotten worse as the night wears on.
I’ll come back to the house now. I’ll be 30mins.
I am not going to go back right this second and I order an Uber to arrive in twenty minutes. I’m sure I could persuade Harley to believe there were traffic delays. The mark the Tiger had paid me fifty grand to get photos of is loitering in the gardens across the road. I know he’s there for drugs, I just have to wait the dickhead out.
I’m already in the car.
Bossy fucking boys. I send him the name of the bar and glare down at all the skin I’m showing. He’s either going to be a total fucking dick over it or I’ll get a hot make-out session in the car. I wonder if he’s boosted the car? My thighs rub together because I’m fucking damaged and get hot for that shit.
I keep my head ducked like I’m staring at my phone even as my gaze follows my mark. He’s coming down from whatever high he’s been riding and his body language is becoming more and more agitated as the night wears on. I need him to act before Harley gets here. If he makes a scene, my cover is blown and I will have to find a new vantage point and then spend another night out here following the idiot around.
The roaring of the engine reaches me first and then shouting and whistling pierces the air. I groan under my breath. When the Mustang pulls up in front of me, I already know who the hell it will be, and now I have the attention of the entire damn street. It’s a fucking nice car, a vintage muscle car that rumbles like a beast even as it idles at the curb. Matte black and silver trimmings, even to me the car looks like a wet fucking dream.
I pull my lips into my best Mounty street girl smile and trot around to the driver window. Wasted guys outside the bar start catcalling me and the other street girls start talking shit. I ignore them all for the guy smoldering in the driver’s seat.
Harley is pissed.
“I’m working so unless you want me out here again you should play the fuck along,” I croon because I have to make it look like I’m giving him the sales pitch of his life.
Harley grunts but a fake smirk plasters itself across his lips and he grits out, “I can see the outline of your fucking pussy in those shorts, Mounty.”
I take a shaky breath and glance down to double check that he’s just being moody. Okay, I have a teeny tiny bit of a camel toe but nothing so dramatic that it’s indecent or anything.
“Look, I can’t leave until I get this done. This is my ninth job and I’ve worked my ass off since I got back so I wouldn’t have to work once you got here. Please, just leave me to get this done.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me and shifts in his seat to grab his wal
let. The girls behind me yell out to him, trying to get his attention and cut me out of the deal. Harley curls his lip in their direction and they quieten down.
He pulls out a fifty-dollar bill and waves it at me obnoxiously. I’ve snapped bones tonight for less. “This gets me an hour, right? Let me take you around the corner, you can pick which one, and I can keep an eye on you while you work.”
I chew on my lip for a second and then bend down to lean into the car and kiss him, dirty and raw like the street girls do.
Harley grunts as I bite his lip and he slips the money into my bra, careful not to touch me. He doesn’t want to touch me like this, not when I’m dressed up to work and hating every second. It’s fucking sweet. I have to remind myself of our audience and keep the kiss outrageously sexual.
It’s ridiculous that I know how to do that just from growing up here.
I pull away from him and trot around the car like I’m giving him a preview of what I have to offer him. His eyes stay glued to mine.
I have to do a weird slide to get into the car because my shorts are so tight, and the smell of the warm leather seats hits me as I shut the door. I direct Harley to a good spot and he parks up, cranking the air conditioning up, a blissfully cool breeze on my overheated skin.
“Information or a hit?” Harley asks.
“Photos. Nothing too dangerous really.” That’s a partial truth. The mark isn’t a concern, but if the dealer sees me, there will be serious fallout.
“How much?” Harley murmurs, watching me as I watch my mark.
“Fifty grand. It’s the smallest job, so I left it until last.”
He nods and settles back in his seat, his eyes closing as he grabs my hand. I blush and try to keep my focus on the drug addict. Harley traces his thumb along my knuckles absently.
“Can we talk or will that distract you?” he murmurs, his eyes still shut.
Ugh, fuck. I sigh. “Is this about Illi or the Jackal?”
“Both of them. I know who you are. I know enough about this world to know it’s not fair of me to ask you to stay the fuck away from the Jackal, but seeing him touch you and knowing how much he scares you was fucking bad, Mounty.”
I swallow around the lump at the back of my throat. “I know. I’m… I’m taking care of it. Illi is part of that.”
I grab my phone as the dealer finally shows up. The mark is directly in front of the car, across the street, but the photos I get are clear enough to show what’s going down. The guy isn’t subtle, but the outrageous price I’m being paid is because of how high the risk of being caught is, not because of how hard it is to find the mark scoring his dope. He’s so far gone he would buy it in front of his own mother.
“How did you meet the Butcher?”
I wince. “I hate that name for him.”
Harley grunts at me. “That’s who he is; he fucking mutilates people.”
I cut him a glare. “He also saved both our asses. He’s… the same as I am. He came into this life unintentionally, but with a set of highly sought-after skills. When I told him I’d applied to Hannaford, he helped me get out, he helped me remove myself from Mounts Bay, and then he cut off all contact with me so I’d have a fucking chance at getting clear. He’s a good guy.”
Harley looks at me like I’m challenging his very moral system, then his eyes slide away from me and he snaps, “Fuck. We’re made.”
I dart my gaze over to find the dealer, one of the Jackal’s men I know and who most definitely knows me, is now stalking over to the car, and I move without really thinking it through. I lean forward to grab the release on Harley’s seat to push it back. He inhales sharply as I climb over to kneel on the floor between his knees and crouch awkwardly under the steering wheel. His eyes widen and he swears viciously as I fumble to get his belt unbuckled and his pants undone. I can feel his dick getting hard as my hand brushes against him even as he protests.
“Mounty—” he hisses, and I cut him a look.
“I’m not going to fucking suck your dick to get out of this, but I am going to pretend. How are your acting skills?” I whisper and before he can answer there’s a knock at the window.
I blanch a little—because, really, am I going to bob my head and fake this properly?—and Harley, thankfully noticing me hesitate, twists my hair around his wrist and grabs a fistful of my hair before winding the window down a few inches.
“I paid good fucking green for this slut. How about you fuck off and let me enjoy my money’s worth before I get angry, dickhead?” Harley drawls, becoming the arrogant asshole from school once again.
I can’t move with the grip he has on my hair, thank God. I can smell the cigarettes and weed on Reggie from where I’m crouched. He’s a fucking creep and I have to hold in a repulsed shiver at his close proximity. Thankfully, the steering wheel hides most of the skin I’m showing, and he won’t be able to see or recognize the scars.
“What’s a guy like you doing down here, anyway? If you can afford the ’67 Rector, you can afford better pussy than what the slum girls have on offer.”
Harley chuckles under his breath and replies, “More expensive doesn’t mean better. No one sucks like the slum girls.”
Reggie waits a second and then laughs. “You can smack them around if they don’t. High class girls cry if you’re rough with them. Enjoy your time with her. I’ll find her myself later, see if that mouth is as good as you say.”
Harley grunts and rolls the window up. His tight grip loosens a little, but when I glance up at his face, he’s watching Reggie leave. His hand doesn’t drop away until Reggie is back in his own car and driving away. He looks fucking pissed so I try to distract him.
“You might be disappointed with this Mounty pussy. I haven’t exactly been broken in like the others and I might be a shit lay.”
Harley’s eyes flash as he hauls me up and into his lap, awkwardly, thanks to the steering wheel. “Don’t fucking compare yourself to them and, to be real fucking clear, I haven’t ever been disappointed with you. I’m not gonna be either.”
He sounds even more like a street kid away from Hannaford and I grin back at him even as I blush. “We’ll see.”
He smirks lasciviously at me. “Fuck yeah, we will.”
I’m starving by the time we get back to the townhouse.
Harley grumbles about the weight I’ve lost and immediately rummages through the fridge. I hate spending money on food when I know how little I need to get by and when I stupidly mention this to Harley he snarls at me, “Well, you’re fucking eating now I’m here.”
With a sigh, I shove a beer at him while I make us both burgers. Harley ducks out to the car to grab his bags and dumps them unceremoniously into the living room. The place is tiny; perfect for what I need. The kitchen, dining, and living room are all one space and the two bedrooms are connected by the bathroom. The downstairs area is made up entirely by the garage which can hold two cars.
“Whose car is the ‘Stang?” I ask, as I drop the plates on the table and grab more beer for us both. I’m not a fan of beer but I need something to soften my edges tonight. I’m still the Wolf, Lips having been put away for the summer break.
Harley takes a huge bite and groans before saying, “You need to cook more when we get back to school. Avery never makes burgers and Morrison puts fucking pineapple in them when he makes them.”
I gape at him in horror, then text Blaise to express my disgust at him, forgetting it’s nearly five in the morning. He sends me a little sketch he’s done of a wolf in return, simple and in blue ink. I love it.
“It’s Morrison’s. My da had one and my grandfather had it scrapped after he killed him to piss me off. There’s only like ten of those out there, and when I found that one Morrison bought it. I told him someday I’ll buy it from him but he’s a stubborn dick and transferred it into my name, anyway. So, I guess technically it’s mine. Won’t feel like mine until I pay for it.”
Okay, now I regret waking Blaise up.
I nod
and try not to think about my plans for his inheritance. It’ll only give me a tension headache because of how fucking tired I am. “What are you going to do after school? I’ve never actually asked you.”
“I never thought I’d get there. I dunno. I’ll go wherever everyone else does. Avery and Ash both want to go into business or some bullshit. I’ll find something to do at whichever college they pick. Ma wanted to be a doctor before she met Da so maybe I’ll do that for her.”
I sip my beer and wince. “Doctors make bank, you’ll own that car in no time.”
Harley smirks at me as he takes a drink. “They don’t make fifty grand in a night.”
I blush. “Surgeons can, asshole. Besides, this is not my career path. This is making do until then.”
He slings a casual arm across the back of my chair, pulling me into his side. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have him so close to me and I have to take a deep breath to relax. It’s like in the weeks we’ve been away from each other, all the familiarity he’d managed to form that last week of school sharing my bed has been wiped away. Fuck it if I’m not the most damaged fucking option, why the hell did they pick me?
“What are you doing after school? You’re coming with us, right?” he murmurs.
I clear my throat. “I’m going to conquer the world with Avery. Haven’t been able to find the right college course for that just yet but we’re exploring options.”
I don’t really want to tell him, because I still haven’t told him I’m financially supporting him now, but the money I’ve earned during the break is being sent to Avery and put into investments so I can afford to pay for everything Harley and I need for the next two years.
Avery is a fucking genius in the stock market, so good that the inheritance she and Ash received from their mother has doubled since she gained control of the money. When she told me I immediately asked her to teach me and now, we’re investing my dirty money. I’ll finally have a legitimate income.
Avery is also now sending me college brochures and course ideas daily. She refuses to pick a school without my input and when I told her I’d pick whatever school gave me the best scholarship, she said she’d apply to that school with me then. No amount of arguing had managed to convince her to leave me behind and fuck it if I didn’t love her more for it.