by L. M. Reign
“Good,” I snarled. “You needed a reminder,” I tell him, inspecting his side.
“Of what?”
“How much your lungs like the taste of air. You’ll bruise. Nothing’s broken.”
“Thanks. Reminder received. Loud and clear.” I toss him a towel, gesturing to his nose. “Are you going to tell me why you just Ronda Rousey’ed me?”
“Nope.” Avoidance was key. I didn’t want to talk about how I let my body betray me last night or how good it felt to be in his arms. Or how hungry I am for more. I could never lie to my brother. He knew me too well.
“Did you sleep with him?”
“Nope.”
“I know that look. You did something,” he quirked his eyebrow, shaking his head. “God, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but don’t forget those months he cut us off and how they wrecked you. You had to make some tough decisions without him, Mi. And you moved on. Don’t let him pull you back into this bullshit he calls a life. He can’t protect you. And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.”
“I know,” I groan, lying flat on my back. “I’m just tired of running from my past. It confronts me at every single turn and I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t know about the baby, but Bloom does.”
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “How does she know?”
“Mom,” I turn to face him. “She gave her a photo of the ultrasound, too.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t know about that.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Bloom said she wanted to see her grandchild. I feel a little betrayed. Mom shouldn’t have done that to me.” Milo’s silent for a little before clearing his throat.
“Mom didn’t betray you. They fought for you. Tried to get him to come, you know.”
“What?” I straighten, staring at my twin. His head hanging low in shame.
“When mom told dad that you were pregnant, he tried to buy Cole from Bodi. Bring him with us, with you, but Bodi wouldn’t let him go. Mom said Bloom tried to reason with him, but you’ve met the man. He’s a son of a bitch and wants everyone to suffer.”
“When the hell did this happen?” I asked, keeping my tone quiet. Afraid Milo will hear the agony that’s rippling beneath my skin.
I wouldn’t have robbed my child of life.
My baby could’ve had a father.
“When you decided you wanted an abortion. Mom didn’t want you to go through that. She and dad talked about it endlessly and decided to offer Bodi money for Cole. The meeting didn’t go well, and... the rest is history.”
“How do you know this?”
He grinned abashedly. “You cannot tell dad,” he threatened me with a lone finger. I grabbed it and twisted it backwards. “Fuck, Mila!” He jerked away from me. “Bitch.”
“At your service. Now enough with the empty threats. How do you know?”
“I followed them that night they went to meet with him. They were acting weird that day, so I figured I’d find out why. They ended up meeting by the docks and dad offered a better life for Cole. Our life. Bodi was offended, pissed that dad insulted his “parenting skills”,” he scoffed, using quotations before continuing, “and declined. Cole was being groomed to take over the MC one day.”
“That bastard,” I snarl. “I’m going to kill him.”
“I know,” Milo checked his beeping phone. “Speak of the devil,” he holds it up. “I’ve got to run. We need get ready for the ride to Corretto’s. You and Ness set?” I give him a quick nod.
“We’re good. Just need to get ready.”
We grip each other’s hand. “Mo Chuisle,” we tell each other as we part.
“Love you. See you later.” He kisses my cheek and I throw my arms around his neck. The overwhelming feeling of danger always takes hold of me before we do this. The fear that this might be the last time I see my brother is paralyzing.
“I love you, too. Give ‘em hell.”
He flashes a boyish smile. “Planning on it.”
_____________________
“You’re extra moody for someone who just got finger-dicked last night,” Ness smirks, making me laugh after I spilled the details of what happened.
I’ve had sex with a total of three men in my life. Cole being the first and the most recent. The other two couldn’t even dream of inspiring my body to react the way Cole did. And he could set me on fire with just a look.
As the years went by, the memories of us slowly faded, fraying at the edges like an old photograph. I used to think I imagined all of this when I was younger, that there was no way I could feel connected to him the way I did. It wasn’t the kind of connection I felt when I was pregnant.
It was a different kind of connection; stronger, comfortable. A gentle wax and wane between the two of us much like that of the ocean that refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s pulled away.
The more time I spend around him, the more those nasty feelings creep up on the shoreline. Despite my better judgement and against my will. Those feelings have the potential to make everything disastrously messy.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset. If it was just a means to an end and didn’t actually mean anything, I wouldn’t be upset. The man’s got pouty lips, beefy arms, tattoos, and dimples,” she rattled off his attributes. “Dimples, Mila. You can’t tell me that some part of you doesn’t want to hike your leg up and mark your territory,” she taunts, her features quickly morphing into those of shock. “You wouldn’t be this upset unless... oh my God. You’re falling for him again.” I shake my head, unable to provide a sufficient answer. I was a living paradox. I wasn’t falling in love with him, but I wasn’t not falling in love with him.
“No,” I groan, fixing my eyeliner. “I’m confused and upset because I’m not ready to face the past and he’s pushing me to. Keeps talking about how we’ll do it together. Once he knows, it’ll just be me facing the past on my own. And I’ll face it when I’m good and ready.”
“Okay. In the meantime, why don’t you just have some fun with him?”
I scoff at her suggestion, focusing on covering up the smatter of light bruising from Asher’s hit two days ago. “Cole comes with old feelings and strings. It’s impossible to have fun with him without feeling something.”
“Yeah. Like his fingers in your vag,” she cackles. I roll my eyes, smiling.
“You need to put that down.”
“Put what down?” She looks at the eyelash curler questioningly.
“The crack pipe you’re smoking.”
Ness starts peeling with laughter, slipping on her fake eyelashes with expert precision.
“His possessiveness over you is like a beacon. We all see it. His actions are actually backing up his words. He really does love you.”
I shrug. “My standard of love is too high. I want that love that mom and dad had. Even if I did let myself love him again, it wouldn’t be the love that I want. There’s too much hurt and secrets that will just poison any chance at starting over.
I’m not ready to face that past, he’s pushing me to face. He’s not ready to hear the regrets I’ve hidden from him. It’s a catalyst that will set the world on fire, leaving both of us to burn. I’ve been burned once. I don’t intend on being burned a second time.”
“Think you’ll ever tell him?” I shrug.
Would it make a difference if I did? If I had?
Would he have come with us? Stayed with me?
“That much pain can’t exist without that much love, you know. Not with your history, at least. I’m going to ask you again; do you love him?”
“It wouldn’t be the love I want.”
“Maybe it’s not supposed to. Ever thought of that?”
“Bu-” my defense died on my tongue.
“But nothing, Mila. You’re so focused on the fact that his words mean nothing that you’re overlooking his actions. He fought for you, gave you the bed, wants to protect you, and has shown you that he’ll choose you over that whore not once,
but twice,” she holds up two fingers to accentuate her point.
“He’s backing up his words this time and you don’t seem to notice. He’s trying, Mila. What’s the harm in letting yourself try? Yes, you could get hurt again, but isn’t that the risk of this life?”
I pause, mulling over her words. She’s right. I take a risk of getting hurt every single day. I am the Syndicate’s offense and defense, dispensed to execute tasks that required a deadly yet delicate hand. I use my body like a weapon and possess the mindset of a warrior.
This risk was different, though. This risk was with my heart. He may have broken it, but I mended it. I put those pieces back together. It took too long to find them and shove them into place, hoping they would stay.
They may not be in the right place, but they are together.
_____________________
We pull up to a stop outside the gigantic converted warehouse that houses Corretto’s. The big brick structure would probably look destitute if it weren’t for the line of people milling around outside of it. Half the line stands under the awning next to the space heaters, soaking up all the warmth while maintaining their carefully applied good looks.
We exit the car, feeling eyes glued to us as we make our way to the front of the line, bypassing the waiting group that erupts into protests of unfairness. I maintain my composure, detaching myself from this situation and focus on my end goal.
Get into his office. Take the pictures. Get out.
“Hello?” Ness turns on the charm, rattling off names she got from hacking the club’s mainframe while I survey the entrance.
“You two have a good time,” the bouncer tells us as he lets us by. I give him a seductive wink.
We claim two seats at the mahogany bar front with blue and white lights stretching from one wall to another. Strobe lights flash across the dance floor, illuminating the crowd dancing on the marble floor.
The VIP areas are sectioned off and boast lush garnet bergére style armchairs and couches that all but bleed pure, dark decadence. Even with the dance floor flanked by cages holding body-painted dancers inside.
I make a show of shimmying off my jacket and draping it over my seat, well aware of the eyes on me. I chose to wear my favorite bodycon dress. The black and beige corset has simple black cross stitching up the front, making me look like a delectable present from the bottom to the top. My tits are pushed up in a promising display of a good time.
Crossing my legs, I lean against the bar on my elbows and clasp my hands together; ready to lay on the charm as I order my drink.
“Ladies, I’m Mateo,” a slim man in a white button up complete with a black-tie places napkins before us. “And I’ll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get for you gorgeous ladies?” I beam, surveying him. Broad shoulders, curled lips, dark eyes framed by perfect eyebrows that are just unfair on a man, and a perfect smile. Easy target.
“Oh,” Ness purrs, leaning into him, putting emphasis on her cleavage. Her blue bandage dress has a keyhole neckline, forcing all eyes to do a double take when they skim across her. I’ve yet to meet a man that’s immune to her charm when she’s a sex kitten with focus.
Her move has the desired impact as his eyes hone in on her chest. Hook. “You’re so sweet. I’d like Sex on the Beach,” she tells him with a wink. Line.
“Anything else you’d like?” His voice is low and sensual. And sinker.
“My friend would like something,” she turns his attention to me.
“I’ll have a Blood and Sand,” I smile, turning to engage Ness in conversation. “They aren’t here yet,” she slips her hand into her clutch, retrieving a mirror before handing it to me.
“Check your makeup, babe.” She tells me, sliding the compact my way as Mateo delivers our drinks. She waves him off with a smile and I open the compact, pretending to check my eyes while staring over my shoulder. I see them being escorted up the stairs, just like we predicted.
Good, they’re here.
“Shouldn’t be long now,” I tell her, sipping on my drink. Careful not to sip too much, but enough to give the allure that I’m here to party.
“Let’s go dance.” Ness’ suggestion has me vacating my spot, weaving us through the crowd to a comfortable place on the dance floor. One with the perfect vantage point of the meeting.
I sway my body to the beat as arms wrap around my waist. Expensive cologne and cinnamon envelopes me in a strong bubble as hands tighten on my waist.
“Hey beautiful,” his silky voice washes over my neck. I remember what happened last time I was in a position like this and turn in his arms, bringing me chest-to-chest with the one man that could throw a kink in my plans.
“Hey handsome.” I force a smile, keeping my face in check as I stare into his dark eyes.
Sangster.
_____________________
Cole
We sit across from Manny, with his slicked back hair and ostentatious pinky ring glimmering in the light above us. He’s sitting with his hands folded in front of him, looking every bit of the part of a wannabe Godfather.
The guy even has his initials on the cuff of his grey button-up, as if someone’s going to steal his shit. Might as well say, “If lost, please return to the motherfucker that will murder you.”
“If we were engaging in such acts,” his thick accent snaking through with each word. “Why would we let you... stronzis run for us? You’ve got nothing we want.”
“We do,” Bodi begins to leverage the information the Mila gave us. “We have information that may be of use to you. About the Gallo Crime Family.” For someone who runs gambling rings, his tell is visible as he tenses up, clearly interested in this information. He hides it, but it’s too late. We all saw it.
“What about them?”
“Let us in as your primary protection runners, then we’ll talk,” Bodi puffs his cigar.
“Fine. Five percent.”
“Twenty-five,” Gibbs counters.
“How do I know this information is worth that much?”
“It involves a certain... heist,” Bodi skirts the topic. Manny leans forward, his eyes hard.
“Twenty-five. If you have proof.” Brass steps forward, depositing an envelope of photos – again, courtesy of Mila - on the table. Manny reaches forward, but Brass pulls it just out of his reach.
“Twenty-five. With proof. You agree right now. It’s all yours. And I’ll tell you what I know,” Bodi uses the script Mila provided in the file. It’s the role of my life, sitting here next to my father, acting like I’m on good terms with the man. Like I want to be doing this shit.
“Fine,” Manny concedes. “Twenty-five. As a sign of faith, you run half a shipment tomorrow. If the evidence is good, and the shipment gets there safely; the rest the day after.” Bodi nods and Brass releases the envelope into Manny’s greedy hands. His eyes flaring with anger at the pictures.
“It seems that your boy, Anthony, “Fat Tone”, is the one who committed the recent heist. Hijacking a load of precious jewels in transport. Your jewels, in fact. From our estimates, seems he got away with more than two-hundred thousand. Consider that a sign of faith from us.”
“How did you get these?”
“Ah, a friend of a friend,” Bodi plays it off.
“Very well,” Manny shoves the images back into the envelope, snapping his fingers. “A round of drinks for me and my... new associates. We seem to have much to celebrate tonight,” he picks up a glass from the tray. “Please, enjoy the club. Any woman you want is yours. Just say the word,” he holds his glass up. We follow. “Saluti,” he clinks his glass with Bodi’s.
And just like that, we work for the dagos.
_____________________
We all settled in on one of the couches provided by Manny, overlooking the dance floor. Drinks haven’t stopped coming and we’ve been introduced to almost every damn dago in this club.
Milo and Dash lean against the railing, staring intently and talking in hushed tones. Standing,
I make my way over and clap them on the back.
“What are you whisperin’ about over here?”
Milo shakes his head, sipping his drink. His voice is low when he answers. “Ladies down there seem to have gotten themselves into some trouble. We’re waiting to see if help is needed.”
I make a face, staring at them like they were stupid until I realize they are talking about Mila and Ness. Leaning against the railing casually, I sweep my eyes across the dance floor, landing on Mila wrapped up in the arms of another man. His hands on her body. My girl’s body. My blood starts to boil.
Gritting my teeth, I glare at him. “Who’s he?”
“One of our new associates,” Dash responds.
Fuck.
“He got a name?”
“Sangster.”
“Sounds like a mean bastard,” I mutter, gripping the railing hard.
“He is.”
“How are we goin’ to get her away from him?” I ask, seriousness in my tone. This is the second time I’ve watched my girl dance with someone else and I’m fucking sick of it. Milo scoffs.
“There’s no we here. Dash and I will handle it. You stay the fuck out of it.”
“Fuck you, Milo. That’s my girl down there.”
“Leave. Her. Alone, Ace. Final fucking warning. That Mila,” he points to the swaying bodies below. “That’s not my sister. That’s who we were trained to be. The Mila that is my sister, you don’t deserve her. You fucked up. Not me, not her. You.”
“I didn’t want this life for her. I didn’t want to taint her.”
Milo scoffs. “Some good it did. This has been her life for years, man. She won’t change it for you. You proved you won’t change yours for her, so don’t expect her to do it for you. No matter how hard you try.”
“I’m not running away this time. I’ve never loved anyone like I love her,” I openly admit to her brother - my former best friend. The one who introduced me to his gangly, awkward sister when we were freshmen. The one who hasn’t fulfilled his promise of killing me yet. That fact alone tells me there’s a chance.