by L. M. Reign
“Quiet, boy. Mila,” Bodi gestures towards her. “What do you have for us?”
She turned her bright eyes on him and gone was the small almost smile - in its place was cold calculation. Tension permeated the room out of nowhere, settling like an uncomfortable cloak over all of us as we watched a silent battle wage between them.
I knew this tension. She was looking for a fight.
Fuck.
“Here’s the dossier,” she tosses a file on the table. “Within it, you’ll find information on the targets. Specifically, the family you’ll be meeting with.
Of the five families connected in this organization, you’ll be meeting with the Domenico Crime Family. Specifically, Emmanuel “Manny” Domenic. He’s one of the family’s capos, along with his brothers; Stefano and Cirro. Their organization’s chain of command is made up of all the sons of Adriano Domenico, the Don. With the exception of Carmine Gevalia, the consigliere. His eldest, Luca Domenico, is capo bastone, the underboss.”
As Mila continues to explain, I observe the tension gripping her shoulders like a vise and twist itself into her posture. She paces back and forth, gesturing with her hands to emphasize key points.
“All the families used the same supplier for sex trafficking until Adriano put out a hit, taking over the trade at the border. Adriano killed his own father to gain this position,” she stares at Bodi. “He will kill you, too. They call him the new “Teflon Don” since John Gotti.”
“Why?” Diesel interrupted her.
“The DA hasn’t been able to make a charge stick. His capos are just as brutal and vicious as he is. Trust no one when you are in Corretto’s.
The blueprint for the club is also in the file. Corretto’s is owned by Adriano and ran by Manny. The building is three stories with several access points. You will most likely be escorted to the second or third floor. Ness and I will be on the first.”
“Who said you were comin’?” I glare at her. Not giving a damn that it’s her job. She needs to stay here where she’s safe.
“Who said we weren’t?” Her retort only fuels my anger.
“What’s the difference between you and them?” Rig asks, breaking her deadly stare from me.
“A comparison between the two is hardly fair. The Domenico’s are hindered by neither loyalty nor honor. In the time that you have sat here and pondered the ethics of our criminalities, they will have already buried you.”
“They can have him,” Dice muses.
“And fuck you very much,” Rig mutters.
“You can leave,” Bodi waves, dismissing them. “We have business to discuss,” he says once they’ve left. “I want ears to the ground. None of us dies in that club, you hear me? Keep your shit together. You two,” he points to Milo and Dash. “We good? Is somethin’ wrong with her?”
“Nothing’s wrong. We’re good,” Milo answers, lying through his teeth. She’s not good. Far fucking from it.
“There’s a cop that’s been sitting outside since yesterday,” Dash states.
Fuck.
“Think it’s from Hurst or Flannigan’s?” Brass questions.
“We’ll fuckin’ find out. Leave that one to me,” Bodi bangs the gavel and we leave the room.
_____________________
Mila
Slapping my hand on the bar, I get Bloom’s attention. “Give me the hardest liquor you got.” She stares at me, her eyes screaming with sadness before nodding.
She returns with a glass and fills it with an inch of vodka. Slamming it back, I motion for more. “Just leave the bottle.” She hesitates before setting it down and walking away.
I relish the burn in my throat and crave more. It’s like sipping on fire. Hurts like hell, but that’s what I want right now. I want to swallow all of my pain, my rage, and my regret.
“Might want to slow down there, lush.” Ness maneuvers the bottle out of reach.
“Bloom knows,” I whisper. Feeling my eyes blur again, I clench them shut. Willing the tears to go away. Understanding my meaning, she moves the bottle towards me.
“In that case,” she fills my glass again. “I’m right here if you need me. Is breá liom duit, deirfiúr,” she tells me, leaning her head on my shoulder. I love you, sister.
“Is breá liom tú,” I bring my glass to my lips to feel the burn again.
“It’s stuffy in here. Let’s go outside. Bloom, two beers, please,” Ness takes my hand, pulling me through the crowd towards the front door.
Tonight’s party is different from the other ones. More intimate than a meeting, but less spontaneous and unpredictable than the other parties. It feels like a place where you can almost relax, like you’re around family and there’s no judgement. Yet, there’s nothing relaxing me tonight.
The lot is littered with a shit-ton of bikers, strippers hanging off of every free man they find, and fucking whores, whoring themselves out. The sight alone disgusts me, ramping up my anger.
“Where’s fight night when you need it?” I mutter, following Ness over to an empty spot in the lot.
“You don’t need fight night. You just need a good buzz, maybe a good dicking, and a long night of sleep. Here,” she hands me a beer. “Sit,” she points to the derelict chair that’s rusted out and on the verge of breaking.
“I’ll stand,” I shudder with disgust.
“You fuckin’ bitch!” I hear before lightning cracks across my face, jerking my head right. I drop my beer, shattering it over the concrete. Pain ignites my nerves and I taste blood. Silence has descended on the lot and I turn my gaze on the one that hit me.
Asher.
_____________________
Cole
“Here’s the cash in full,” Damien drops three bags at my feet. “Unmarked bills.”
“Rook,” I nod towards the bags. “Grab and count.”
“Ah, you don’t trust me?” Damien acted like he was offended.
“I trust no one when it comes to money.”
“Smart man,” he chuckles. “We square?” He asks when Rook walks back in.
“Square,” Rook nods.
“We insist that you stay and enjoy the party. Celebratin’ those two nomads over there,” I point to Dash and Milo lurking in the corner. “You’re welcome to our booze and pussy.”
“I’ll take you up on that.”
We walk outside amid some commotion in the corner of the lot.
Son of a bitch.
“The fuck is goin’ on?” I yell over to Diesel who’s standing up on the picnic table for a better look.
“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “But your girl is in it.”
“Goddamnit. Hook Damien up with one of the strippers,” I tell him, shoving my way through the crowd that’s gathered around and see Asher standing in front of Mila. Her face smarting red.
Oh, shit.
Mila’s dark gaze zeroes in on her, spitting blood on her boots. A slow smirk spreads across her features, her bloody smile transforming her into a beast. She wants blood.
“The answer to my prayers,” she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she removes her jacket.
Milo comes to stand beside me. “Fuck.”
“You took my man!” Asher yells. Mila shrugs as she steps forward, only to be stopped by Ness’ hand on her arm. Ness is shaking her head and telling her something when Mila jerks her arm from her, replacing it with her jacket.
“I’ve got her,” Milo starts forward.
“No, I got her,” I shove past him, ignoring his protest with rapid steps, closing the distance between me and my girl. She’s crowding in on Asher, not caring about a damn thing until I step in front of her. Halting her steps.
“Get out of my way,” she seethes. Bloodlust oozing from her tone. I’m not even sure if she sees me.
“Mila. Hey,” I wave a hand in front of her, causing her to peek up through her lashes, absolute carnage waging behind her eyes. “Hey,” I lift my hand to wipe some blood from her lip. “You want blood.”
&nb
sp; “If that’s what it takes,” she shrugs casually, attempting to move past me. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back.
“Ace, do somethin’!” Asher screeches from behind me, gripping my jacket.
“Get the fuck off me,” I jerk out of her grasp. “Fuckin’ get gone, Ash.” I toss over my shoulder, not willing to take my eyes off Mila for a second. “Come on, killer.” I move her back cautiously. “What’s your deal?”
Sirens whoop, turning our attention towards the entrance as flashes of red and blue light up the lot. A cruiser screeches to a halt, the door flinging open.
“What’s this little gathering you have going on here?” Jacob brandishes his blindingly bright light on the crowd, coming to stop on us. “Ma’am, are you okay? Did he hit you?”
“I didn’t fuckin’ hit her. Turn that damn light off, Jake.”
“I didn’t ask you, motherfucker,” he comes to stand in front of us. “Step aside or I’ll have you arrested for obstruction of justice.”
“Fuck you will. There’s no crime. No justice to be served.”
“Back. Off. Cole,” he warns.
“Enough,” Mila steps forward. “I’m fine. He didn’t hit me. I’d kill him if he did,” she laughs jokingly with Jake. I tilt my head at her thinly veiled threat.
“I should haul you all in for this, question all of you until I know who hit her,” Jake makes my hackles raise. “But... the lady says nothing happened. Here’s my card.” Mila graciously accepts it, nodding.
“Thank you, Officer…”
“Williams.”
“Thank you, Officer Williams,” she gives him a soft smile, traces of blood still clinging to her teeth.
Fucker.
“Jake, you want to tell me why the fuck you’re hangin’ out in front of my place of business?” Bodi’s heavy boots echo the lot.
“Your men get shot at Flannigan’s, still recuperating in the hospital, Mazzy has gone MIA, and now we’ve found Ryan Hurst dead in a room off the highway. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Tank and Jolk are healing just fine, thank you for askin’. Shame to hear about Hurst though. Him and Mazzy were good friends of the club. Right guys?” We nod solemnly. “There. Now that we’ve answered your questions, you goddamn rent-a-cop, get the fuck off my lot. Don’t bother my fuckin’ crew again. Ashton will be hearin’ about this.”
“Fuck you, Bodi. Just ‘cause Ashton is in your pocket doesn’t mean I’ll ever be. I’m serious,” he turns to Mila. “Call me, if you need me.”
“Get gone, Jake,” I warn. Disliking the way his eyes linger on Mila like she’s some damsel in distress.
Once Jake’s cruiser lights disappear, I turn on Asher. “What the fuck!?”
“She’s sleeping in your bed! You said that would be me!”
“I never made you any goddamn promises. You’re a whore! You’ve slept with half the fuckin’ club. Why would I want you!?”
“And you,” I point at Mila. “Give me that damn thing.” I yank the card from her, ripping it to shreds. “Fuck him. C’mon,” I pull her with me. She pulls back, her resistance making me slow down in front of Asher.
“You,” she bristles, pointing a lone finger in Asher’s face before tapping her cheek. “Get one.” Asher’s startled face would be almost comical if she wasn’t on the verge of pissing her pants.
“C’mon,” I pull her away, leading us upstairs. She pulls her hand from mine when we enter the room. “What now?” I ask her, exasperated.
“You should’ve let me hit her!”
“Is that what this is about? Is that why you’ve been so pissed since you walked into church?” She goes eerily quiet, not providing an answer. “What has you so keyed up, baby?”
“Stop calling me that. I’m not your anything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re my everything. And you need to be punished.”
“Punished?” She scoffs. “You’re nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. I don’t want you.”
_____________________
Mila
He cocked his head to the side with a quirked eyebrow, crowding me against the door until I couldn’t move anymore. “Is that right?” He moved his face a little closer, barely a centimeter setting us apart.
I was engulfed in nothing but the dominance that he exerted over me in that minute, and I swear he could smell my arousal from it. “So…,” he kissed me softly, his voice dropping to that low husky rumble. “If I reached into your panties…,” his lips ghosted over mine again. “Would I not find you…,” he continued his powerful assault on my lips. “Dripping wet for me?” He huskily rasped.
My body felt like it was on fire. There wasn’t an inch of me that didn’t want his touch. That didn’t ache for him. I craved his touch now as much as I did then, and he fucking knew it.
I wet my lips, needing to soothe the burn he left behind. His eyes followed the path of my tongue. His desire overwhelmed me, but his love... his love threatened to consume me.
“I hate you,” I lied. The hint of sadness that passed swiftly through his eyes gutted me.
“No, you don’t,” he shook his head, rubbing his nose against mine. “You don’t hate me at all, baby. You hate the fact that you still love me.” Pushing off the wall, he took a step back. “And we’re just gettin’ started.” Removing his shirt hastily, he was back on me.
Cole was a powerful kisser, using his tongue with abandon as his hands roam my body. Lifting me in his arms, I wrap my legs around his waist. Instinctively, I slip my fingers into his hair, following his pace of the kiss as we battle with our tongues. Falling into a dance as old as time.
Biting his lower lip, I soothe it with small licks, drawing out a groan. “Fuck, baby,” he moves us towards the dresser, setting me down on the cool surface. He trails his lips down, kissing my neck, blazing a path to that spot. The one that’s like a switch; turning me on as he slowly settles himself between my legs. My hands grip his tresses in anticipation now his hands have more freedom to roam my body; landing on my pants.
“I want to feel you,” he pops the button. My hips began to grind on their own accord at the sound of the zipper coming undone, like my body was taking control of the situation, ignoring any reasoning my brain was communicating.
He shifted, and I dropped my head back against the wall, moaning in pleasure when I felt his fingers ghost over my clit before bypassing pleasantries and sliding inside of me.
“Fuck,” I moan, instantly clenching and tightening around his fingers as he filled me up. He rolled them inside me, strumming me like his favorite instrument, making sure he touched every single part of me, making me squirm as he slid them in and out.
“Yes,” I moaned, biting my lip to stifle the sounds while grinding harder against his fingers. “Keep doing that.” My toes started to curl, my legs coiling tighter as I felt the tidal wave of release wash up on me.
Before I could embrace it, an intense orgasm rocked me to my core. My legs shuddered against him, my pussy spasming around him, clutching him inside me, begging him to never leave - wanting him deeper.
Dropping his forehead to mine, we both race to catch our breath. “God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful when you come,” his breath fans my face and I freeze. Transported back to the last time we had sex.
“God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful when you come,” he’d told me.
“Oh my god,” I panic, shoving him away from me. “I can’t believe I did that.” I slide off the dresser, focused on righting my pants. “This changes nothing.” I avoid looking him in the eyes as I did the one thing he taught me how to do well.
I left.
Chapter 11
Mila
Who needs a psychotherapist when you can spar with your brother? One that doesn’t need to ask questions to know how you’re feeling, and only needs to let you beat the shit out of him to make you feel better.
Milo sensed the dark memories that started to tramp
le over the corner of my thoughts, breaching the wall that - so far - is holding steady against the onslaught of Cole.
Refusing to allow me to stay in the darkness, he encroaches, throwing jabs left and right without any real coordination or planning. I dodge most of them, delivering jabs and crosses to his side and face when he opens himself up for attack. His breaths came hard and heavy, struggling to gain the upper hand.
To his credit, the few hits he did land held weight behind them, but Milo was always an enthusiastic participant in sparring; only ever knocking me down once. A feat he never lets me forget.
The pain felt good. I welcomed it, relished it, seizing the opportunity to return the favor with ease.
He latched onto me, grappling, gaining a physical advantage while putting me in a clinch hold. I don’t struggle because I’m not trapped. I’m waiting.
This is how we were trained. When others are impatient, we are patient. When they act, we wait. When they retreat, we endure. When they display strength, we find the weakness. When they think they’ve won, we strike.
“Let them believe you are weak until the moment they discover you are not,” our Ordú’s voice rang loud and clear.
A stillness washed over me and my limbs no longer felt like my own. Rearing my head back, I gather all the force I can and direct it towards his face. Weakness. He let me go, clutching his nose. Strike. I send a jarring kick to his torso, effectively expelling the air from his body. He crumples on the mat.
I stood over him, catching my breath and evaluating the damage. His side was smarting red, his hair askew, and his nose was oozing sanguine fluid. He made no attempt to get back up, clutching his side in agony.
“You left yourself open,” I say with authoritative confidence. “Maireachtáil nó bás.” Survive or die.
“Éirigh as,” he croaked, his accent heavy. I forfeit. “Holy shit,” he heaves, greedily sucking in all the available air. “Time the fuck out,” he groans. “That shit hurt.” He pulls himself to a sitting position, still clutching his side. I join him on the floor.