by Dani René
“Then we finish this so you can go down there and claim your girl,” he tells me easily as if everything is black and white. I wish it was that easy to just walk down there and take Peyton, telling her how I feel. But there’s no way I can bring her into my world.
“I can’t. She’s too good for me. Look what happened to Aurora,” I tell him earnestly. He’s never seen me cry. I’ve been broken, but never once did I allow my sadness to show. The steel expression I wore at Rory’s funeral showed a man who didn’t allow the world to get to him. Not even when he buried the love of his life.
“Look at me, Rick,” my brother murmurs, and I do. “Do you love Peyton?”
I took everything from her. And the thing that has my chest tightening is that I gave her something I never wanted to. I allowed her in, and now I know without a fucking doubt I’m falling for her.
“Because, from where I’m standing, brother, you seem to. This girl has given you something, offered you all of her. And from the look on your face, you’ve given her everything too.”
He’s right. Every word he utters is the truth. She broke the down the walls I’d built for so long, and as they crumble slowly and effortlessly, I find myself riddled with guilt. I find myself nodding before I can voice the words. The shame that I’ve moved on from Aurora hits me in the gut, and I know my brother sees it.
“You can’t love a ghost. She’s gone, and you need to move on.” He points at my chest, prodding me, and I know he’s trying to get me to see reason. “Your past is just that. Put it behind you. I’m not saying you’re going to forget Rory. She’ll always be a part of you, but this shit that you’re doing to Peyton is wrong.”
“I . . . I don’t know how to let Rory go.” For the first time in years, I feel agony. Real, gut-wrenching agony, and I find myself gripping the glass so tightly I’m willing it to shatter, because this is too much.
“There’s only so much anyone can tell you. Only so much advice we can offer. It’s your choice, brother. If you ever want to feel a semblance of happiness, you’ll say goodbye to Aurora, and let her go now. Nothing can change what happened, but you can change how you deal with it.”
“When did you become so wise?”
“The moment my little brother needed me,” he smirks. Draining the liquid from his glass, he sets it down and leaves me to wage war with my thoughts. Turning, I watch as Peyton smiles up at the man who could probably love her, give her everything her little heart desires, and I almost walk away. I almost decide to let her go, but then her gaze finds mine through the window.
She’s watching me as I watch her. She knows I’m here. Then she darts her gaze away and back to her suitor. Shaking her head, she smiles politely, and he leaves. And in my heart, I wonder if that was her answer. If she’s telling me with her actions that she wants me. She wants what I have to offer. But that makes me wonder, what is it that I can offer her?
Shaking my head, I turn to my desk and settle on the chair. I can’t hurt her. At least, I can’t have her hurt by my enemies. The farther away she is from me, the better. Callan was right. I should move on. And I choose to move on alone. At least, that way, no one can get hurt again.
Years ago, when I was brought into this life, I’d made a choice to spend my existence without casualties. Of course, I broke that promise to myself, and I won’t do that again.
The car is almost at the house, and I know soon, I’ll see the man who took everything from me. Callan pulls up to the gates, and the first thing I notice is there’s no security. Perhaps they’re inside.
“Are you ready to get your vengeance? I can do it, if you want me to.” My brother has always been there for me. He loves this shit. Stalking, killing, watching someone’s life drain from their eyes. The one to do the dirty work because he doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty. But this is my fight.
“I just need you to get the evidence,” I inform him. My father will need video proof that the man confesses, then watch him die on film. I know it’s needed. As much as I know I should do it, I hate knowing I’m going to be forever captured killing someone.
We park on the sidewalk, and I ensure my gun is safely in my holster at the back of my belt. When we exit the car, the scent of freshly mowed grass wafts over to me, and I note there’s a neighbor in her garden about four houses down. She doesn’t look my way, but being vigilant is always a necessity.
It’s late evening. The sun is just disappearing on the horizon as I push open the small pedestrian gate. Strangely, I didn’t picture a mobster sitting in a small house in a suburb. But then again, I know he was meant to be lying low.
Callan follows me onto the property. His steps ghosting mine as we head toward the door. My gaze is dragged up to the second floor where a man is standing in the window watching me. He knows. I do too. It’s time to finish this.
We make our way to the door. Before I can knock, it opens, and I’m greeted with a maid who is old enough to be my grandmother.
“Hello,” she says, her tone wary, the Irish lilt present. It’s her eyes that give her away. She knows who I am. Once she steps aside, I enter, and as soon as she shuts the door, he steps out of the shadows.
“Carrick Aeden O'Leary.” His brogue is heavy as he calls me by my real name. The accent thick, and it rumbles through me with familiarity.
“Seamus Moran,” I respond as he nods, gesturing for me to step inside his space. There’s nothing here that suggests he’s a murderer, and there’s also nothing to give away the fact that he is one of the most dangerous men in Europe, and possibly now in Chicago.
“You’ve come here to collect your penance,” he says easily, settling in the arm chair. He’s old. Much older than I thought. I’m confused as to how he is the son of the Moran. “And you didn’t expect to see me.” He meets my glare easily, not fazed that I’ve pulled out my gun. The silencer is in place as I watch him, taking in the man who stole lives, countless innocents died because he wanted to rule the fucking country.
Callan has his phone out, recording this to send to our father. I’ve never been sure what Dad does with the videos, but with each job I’ve completed in the past, it’s been a necessity. The man watches me, gesturing for me to sit. I do. My brother stays standing as he regards the man warily.
“I’ve come to make sure you pay your dues,” I tell him. There’s no mercy, but he doesn’t ask for it. I drop the barrel, aiming at his left knee and pull the trigger. The anguished cry that’s wretched from his mouth is all I need to put another bullet in his other kneecap.
That’s when his men appear. Four of them flank him, two on either side of the asshole who’s gripping his bloodied legs. The sticky crimson liquid that spurts from the holes I’ve made oozes as he keels over. His hands holding onto the wounds does nothing to stop the bleeding.
I sit back, settling myself on the sofa as I watch him wallow around the floor. The four men who appeared pull their weapons on me. I don’t move. It’s best to play cool when you’re outnumbered. Callan is silent beside me, but his hand is on his gun, which is in the holster. I notice his phone is gone, and his gaze is trained on the men in the room.
“They say cockroaches never learn. They never die either, but I’m here to ensure that you’re on the path straight to hell, Moran,” I smirk, crossing my arms in front of my chest as he glares up at me.
“As you know the code we live by, O'Leary. An eye for an eye. This is done. The men behind me will escort you from this house, and I suggest you stay away. I’ll move on, back to Ireland, but you’re not to follow. Your father will know I’ve paid with my legs.”
“You fucking took her from me!” I roar. Shooting up from the sofa, I make a move to grasp his shirt. The men cock their guns, but he holds a hand up to stop them.
I’m not sure why he’s done it, but I continue dragging him over to the sofa where I was sitting. I lean in, taking in his cold green eyes. He doesn’t flinch, but he shouldn’t. We’re both trained killers. We’ve both tortured men, maimed th
em. This is child’s play compared to what we’ve seen.
“You killed her,” I hiss in his face as my anger finally releases itself. My fists make contact with his face, again and again. I don’t see anything but the violent rage that envelops me in its thick fog.
The crunch of bone, the splatter of blood, and the way his body shudders under each violent punch doesn’t stop me. I don’t know how many times I hit him. I lose track of time. It’s only when I finally collapse on the floor do I realize I’m crying.
Callan grips my arm, pulling me to stand. “It’s done, brother. We need to leave.”
“Remember, O’Leary, there’s always a time and place for everything. You’ve gotten what you came for. If you ever come near me again, I’ll ensure you don’t walk out the door.”
I should kill him. But the four men behind me will take me out without breaking a sweat. I knew I’d be overpowered. There wasn’t a time I didn’t think I’d be walking out of here alive, and that’s why I let Peyton walk away. I watched the woman I love walk out the door because I knew I wouldn’t walk out of this alive.
For years, I’ve held my agony in my chest. And for years, I’ve lived with rage and guilt, and revenge that seemed to riddle my heart. But one woman strode in, her blonde hair, green eyes, and sassy mouth broke me. She fucking shattered me, and I realize I love her.
“Callan, wait outside.” It’s an order. I don’t outrank him, but he obeys. Once I’m alone, I pull out my phone and hit the send button on a message. The back door of the house is shattered, as I raise my gun. I didn’t want my brother to see this.
My finger presses the trigger as my team appears, and I watch in awe as the man who stole Rory from me slumps. Suddenly, my ears prick at a sound from behind me. I don’t have a moment to move because the pain that sears through me is relentless as I slump and black takes over.
18
Peyton
The room is quiet, lit in a soft yellow glow of the candles.
“Peyton.” Oliver’s voice startles me when he appears from the entrance in the wall opposite of where I’m standing. “What are you doing here?” He smiles, approaching me with a curious stare. Dressed in a navy pinstripe suit with a crisp white shirt and a tie which matches his suit, he looks like he’s about to head into a board meeting.
“I wanted to talk to you.” I sound shy and nervous, but I’m not. He took my brother on as a submissive, and even though I never thought of Chance in this lifestyle, I never saw myself in it either. As long as he’s happy, I’ll support him.
“Of course.” Oliver offers me a hand. “Sit, please, Peyton.” He gestures to the chair beside him. “What can I do for you?” His rich, decadent tone is calming, and I know now why he’s so alluring for all the submissives who walk into Sins. Carrick may be the man-whore, but it’s Oliver who’s the older, distinguished man who’ll offer anything you want. Being a sadist, he caters to masochists, but his age affords him the perfect Daddy Dom scenario.
“My brother, he’s not used to all this, but I just wanted to talk to you about looking after him. I know you will. There’s no doubt in my mind, but I was concerned about—”
“Peyton, darling, let me assure you of something. All the subs I’ve had in my dungeon have come out stronger, surer of themselves, and they’ve loved every minute I spent with them in there. I don’t talk about my relationships.”
He settles back, watching me for a moment, and I feel foolish for coming here and asking him about it. Not that I wanted to know what he does, but more that he’ll not break Chance’s heart.
“This is something I live twenty-four seven. I’m a lot of things to different people. Yes, I do train many slaves and subs, but I also find myself indifferent to monogamy. If I feel that I want to be with your brother and perhaps another woman, I will do so.”
He’s silent for a moment longer, giving me time to digest his words.
I nod.
He smiles.
"There’s never an easy way of diving into my world. Granted, not all people enjoy the same things, but I’ll never hurt someone when they don’t want it. I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done, but what I do within the walls of my dungeon stays there.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to question you.” Meeting his steel-gray eyes, I smile.
“I can certainly see why Rick is so enamored with you,” he utters almost reverently.
“It was my choice to walk away, but he’s moved on,” I tell him sadly.
“Oh, sweet Peyton, you have that man by the balls. I’ve seen Dominants fall for the subs they train, but nothing like Rick and you. What you’ve found with him is something that doesn’t come easy.” He sounds so sure of himself I almost believe it. I want to. My heart wants to grab at his words and hold them tight, but I can’t allow myself to feel.
“He’s . . . complicated.”
“Aren’t all men complicated?” he quips, his mouth turning up into a grin. The fine wrinkles at the corner of his eyes show his age, along with the silver strands that color his dark hair.
“I suppose they are,” I tell him. “But this is different. I mean, he’s still in love with his ex. I mean, I look like her. That’s why he wanted me in the first place.”
“Peyton, has he told you he still loves her?” I shake my head no. “So, you’re putting words into his mouth that he never once uttered.” I nod. “Let me tell you something. A long time ago, when I first became a Master to a beautiful slave, I fell hard. Infatuated with everything about her. She had long brown hair that reminded me of the warmest chocolate, her eyes, the color of roasted chestnuts, and skin that was smooth, tanned, and silky.”
He smiles, then pushes off the chair, striding toward a small cabinet.
“I trained her, fell in love with her, and then she left. Walked out one day without a word. I thought I had done something wrong. Perhaps pushed her past her boundaries. But one night, I walked into Sins. Years later, mind you,” he continues as he pours a drink. When he nears me once more, he offers me a glass of a red wine, which smells delicious.
“And she was there?”
He nods. “She was. Hanging off the arm of another Master. When she saw me, she blanched. I didn’t go to her, I didn’t even acknowledge I’d seen her. Instead, I moved on, but I didn’t forget her. When I chose a new slave, she was the spitting image of Anna. I did it to see if it was love or lust. When you love someone in this lifestyle, it’s difficult sometimes to distinguish between need and want, to please, and real love.”
I’m hooked on every word. My heart thudding against my ribs as I listen to the man who seems to have more heartache shining in his gray eyes than anyone I’d ever met.
“Most submissives and slaves become lost when they don’t have someone who can offer them what they need. They seek it out, and sometimes it’s dangerous. The same for a Dominant. He craves that control, and when he loses that, he can end up spiraling, and that’s what happened to Rick. When he lost Aurora, he didn’t take on another sub the way he did you.”
His eyes meet mine. There’s a gentle plea in them.
“He may have first chosen to train you because you looked like her, but I don’t believe for a second he fell in love with you because of it. Your looks may have cracked his shell, but it was your personality, your fire, who you are as a person that made him love you. When you walked in, you were the reckoning. Either he’d fall for you, Peyton, or he’d have one more chance to say goodbye to the girl with the blonde hair and pretty green eyes. He’d fuck you, spank you, and move on to the next.”
“But, he didn’t move on. At least, not until I told him I needed time. Learning about the fact that I was just a reminder of this girl he’d lost so long ago hurt.”
“Of course, it will hurt. There’s no doubt about it. But, what I’m saying is, he fell in love again, so his heart is free. He gave it to you. You may look alike, but you’re two very different people. When you love someone, it’s not the outer appearance that you
love, it’s the soul, the heart of that person.”
He’s right.
“If you really love Carrick, I would suggest you show him. Give him the choice to decide what he wants. However, if you can no longer submit to him, then move on. He’s a Dominant. It’s his nature, who he is. If he can’t have that, he loses himself, and it won’t work between you both.”
“I just need time. A day or two to think about it.”
He nods. Taking my hand in his, he pulls me into his arms. They’re warm, almost father like. His spicy scent reminds me of a cold winter’s day sitting by the fire with hot chocolate and cinnamon. Oliver plants a chaste kiss on the top of my head.
He takes a step back, meeting my gaze. “You’re a good girl, Peyton. You’ll both be happy, just don’t rush into anything. He’ll wait.”
“How do you know he will?” I saw Carrick with that woman a few days ago while she sat on his lap draped over him. He saw me, looked into my eyes, and smiled. My heart cracked just a little. But then again, we both played games. I went into the back room with Oliver to make him jealous. But nothing happened, that’s a small tidbit Rick doesn’t know.
“He’ll wait because he loves you. There’s no one else he’d rather have kneeling for him.”
“And you know that?”
“Because I understand him. We share the same desires, needs, and when a man like me loves, we love for eternity.” He sounds so confident and sure. His voice deep, a rumble that vibrates through us both.
“As do I, Oliver,” I respond, earning me a smile and a nod. “I do love him. Perhaps it’s time I pulled on my big girl panties and went to him.”
“You need to be very sure it’s what you want. But I know my friend, he’s not going to push or force you into anything. However, if you walked in there right now, I assure you, he’d take you back this instant. And I know that he’s not been with anyone since. He has taken subs to the rooms, but I know he hasn’t been inside any woman since you.”