“If your best interests involve dealing drugs in my city, I disagree,” I tell him firmly.
“You keep saying that,” he murmurs. “Your city. Who says this city belongs to you? What right do you have to claim it, huh? What fucking right?”
“With all due respect, Juan,” Cillian says from beside me, “I don’t believe you don’t know about Murphy’s rise to power. He unified all the Mafia Families. He made alliances with the Italians and the Yakuza. He’s kept the streets clean. He’s kept business flowing… mostly legitimate businesses, which we use our skills to protect. He’s done more good for this city than most politicians.”
Juan flinches because of course, he knows how I rose to power. He’s heard about the war I won, with blood and grit as much as with my mind. There was a power struggle when I was scarcely twenty years old, and instead of hiding away from it I dove head-first into it, rallying a small group of Irishmen who became a squadron and then an army, and I won this fucking city.
There’s no way I’m going to let him take it away from me.
Or poison its people with drugs.
“Yes, I’ve heard,” Juan says, staring hard at me. “You waged a little war, a tidy little American war, the kind of scuffle we don’t even register where I’m from. And you think I should be impressed?”
“I think you should show some respect,” Cillian snaps, his anger flaring.
I mask a smirk with a mouthful of whiskey and then wave a hand at my second-in-command. “We are telling you not to deal drugs on our streets,” I tell Juan. “Ultimately you can decide what course of action to take, but don’t be surprised when you find out we’re tougher than you think.”
I stand and stride from the bar, my men following behind me, their footsteps loud on the hardwood flooring.
I walk into the spring sunlight and let out a growling sigh as I head toward the end of the street, where the car should be waiting. My men have already climbed into their own cars, jet-black sedans which line the sidewalk outside the bar.
I stand on the corner, letting pedestrians pass me, a hot chord of tension pulsing through my body.
“That didn’t go as planned,” Cillian murmurs as he walks up beside me.
I laugh gruffly. “Yeah, no shit. Do you think he’ll listen?”
“No,” Cillian says.
“Neither do I. Which means we’re going to have to make him listen…”
I glance up and down the street. “Where the fuck is the car, Cillian? It was supposed to be waiting right here.”
“There’s a new driver today,” he explains. “Remember? Molly Davis.”
I nod, though it slipped my mind, getting buried beneath all the Cartel shit.
Henry – Molly’s dad – is my oldest friend. We met when we were kids and we were inseparable through all our schooling years, and we even remained close when I went into the mafia life and he tried to stick to the straight and narrow.
He’s battled with a gambling addiction ever since his wife died, and I’ve done my best to help him. I moved him to England a few years ago when shit got too hot Stateside, and I’ve moved him and his daughter back now that he’s messed things up in England.
I want to help him, but he’s a real self-sabotaging bastard.
Still, he’s my best friend, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.
Giving his daughter a job is a small price to pay…
At least, that’s what I thought.
I expected her to be on time, to be grateful, not to leave me waiting like a jackass on the side of the road.
“Maybe she got lost,” Cillian muses. “They’ve been in England for, what, three years?”
I nod. “Yep. And she’s only nineteen, or maybe twenty. She only got her license a few years ago. But when I asked Henry what job would suit her, he said driver. He didn’t even hesitate. Apparently, she wants to become a rally driver one day.”
Cillian gestures to the traffic lights on the other end of the street, where a sleek black sedan sits at a red light, the windows tinted and the car shined to a polished finish.
My eyes move over the car and then to the driver.
My blood starts pumping hard around my body.
Even from here, there’s something about her, provoking feelings in me I’ve never experienced before, flooding my mind and surging around my body. Even when she’s twenty feet away from me – with a driver’s cap on her head – I feel my manhood trying to stiffen, trying to pulse in irrepressible lust.
I stare hard, studying the half-confident half-shy smile that plays at her lips, her eyes narrowed, pinched in concern. Even her hands gripping the steering wheel send carnal thoughts driving inside of me.
What the fuck is happening to me?
I want her.
No—I need her.
There’s no way in hell that’s Molly Davis, surely.
The last time I saw her she was a shy kid with braces who wouldn’t look me in the eye when I came to visit her father.
I try to push these impossible desires down. I shouldn’t be able to want somebody this hungrily when I’m watching them from the other end of the street, but somehow the desire surges up inside of me, hot and so real I could charge into the road and stop traffic, drag her from the car and bend her over the hood, claiming her right here.
And fuck…
I don’t just want to fuck her.
I want to put my children in her belly. I want to claim her.
Forever.
How is that possible from one glancing look across the street?
I try to tell myself I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way I could know this for certain, so soon.
And yet I do.
Molly Davis is mine.
I’d kill any man who tried to take her away from me.
Finally, the lights change and she pulls up to the sidewalk.
Chapter Three
Molly
I step from the car, silently cursing myself.
Of course, I had to get completely freaking lost on my first day on the job. Even with the GPS to guide me, the city turned into a warren of lanes and blocks and intersections, so much busier than English roads, and so much more complicated than the beautiful simplicity of a rally track.
I walk over to the back door, my heart thumping in my chest, moving through me like a song I can’t ignore.
He’s right there, just as steely as I remember him, his pale blue eyes biting into me as I open the door and wave them inside.
“I’m so sorry I was late, Mr. Moran,” I say.
He strolls over to the door. His suit is a steel color and it hugs closely onto his heaving muscles, making it look like he could snap at any second and tear the fabric to pieces. He glowers at me, his clean shaven jaw tight, as though he wants to roar at me for my tardiness.
Anger flares inside of me and I have to bite down on my angry response.
Fine, I was late, but there’s no need for him to stare at me like he wants to take my head off.
He approaches the back door, his eyes fixed on me, a cruel smirk toying at his lips.
My heart thunders at the closeness of him.
I’m sure I can feel the heat rising from his skin.
I can smell his cologne, musky and manly, or maybe that’s just his scent washing over me. The crazy thought to reach out and grab him spirals into my mind, willing me to claw onto him, to see if his muscles feel as rock solid as they look.
“Don’t let it happen again, Molly,” he growls, sliding into the backseat and shuffling along.
His man – Cillian, I vaguely remember him from when I was a kid – follows after him. I close the door behind them, careful not to mutter anything sarcastic under my breath, even as the desire surges up inside of me.
Who the hell does he think he is, talking to me like that?
Well… he’s the leader of the Irish mob and he’s also my boss.
Which is why I have to play nice.
I quickly dart into
the driver’s seat and glance into the rearview mirror, finding his eyes fixated on mine, his twin blues shimmering like azure flames like he can barely contain the livid emotion flaring to life within him.
I keep my face composed – I hope – as I ask, “Where would you like to go, Mr. Moran?”
“Take me to the Moran Enterprises offices,” he grunts, his voice gruff and dismissive.
I force down another wave of rebellion, my instinct to snap at him for being so freaking rude.
“Of course,” I say instead, remember that this is Dad’s best friend and he’s done us countless favors over the years.
If it wasn’t for this grumpy, hulking, iron-haired alpha we’d be living on the streets right now. Or worse.
So what if he’s a little… okay, a lot rude? I have to remember how important this job is.
I punch Moran Enterprises into the GPS, glad when it finds the address for me and I don’t have to ask him. I can all too easily imagine how his expression would twist into a rage if I dared to interrupt his silent seething.
My only hope is that he is angrier about whatever business stuff he has to deal with today then with me.
I pull out and join the flow of traffic, silently screaming at myself to calm down when we reach one of the mega-intersections. I only had a few months of driving experience in the States before we moved to England, so this all feels new to me.
Thankfully I manage to join the right lane and then it’s a straight shot to the upscale neighborhood where the Moran Enterprises offices are located.
“How is your father, Molly?” Murphy asks after a few long moments of silence.
I warn myself to calm down when my insides do a little flip of excitement. Hearing him say my name in his husky growling tone sends shivers of need all through me, working their way deep into my body and touching sizzling parts of me, deep-buried parts that beg to be touched again and again.
I find myself imagining silly impossible things, like Murphy ordering Cillian to leave the car so we can have some alone time, dragging me into the backseat where he presses firmly down on my legs, sliding closer to my sex, making my lips hot and hotter the closer he gets…
I push those thoughts away and focus on his question.
“Better, thank you,” I murmur. “I just hope…”
I trail off. I don’t want to voice my anxiety about Dad’s gambling problem, not to his best friend and the man who has done so much to try and help us.
I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining.
“I hope so too,” he says, seemingly reading my thoughts.
I nod, gripping the steering wheel harder so I don’t reach up and brush at my hair. Being so close to Murphy has got me wanting to do it more than ever, to pull strands of my hair loose from the tight bun and smooth them so I don’t have to face him, don’t have to feel like I’m on display.
But at least he asked about Dad, and he said my name.
As silly as it seems, I want to cheer and punch the air at this new development. Maybe he’s not that angry with me after all.
“We’ll need to make arrangements when we get to the offices,” Murphy says quietly, addressing Cillian now instead of me.
I do my best not-listening face, even as my interest is piqued.
Arrangements for what?
“We will.” Cillian nods, his eyes flitting to the rearview to make sure I’m not looking… which I am. I quickly look away. “We won’t let this happen, boss.”
“I know.”
Murphy sighs darkly, making a rumbling sound that moves deep inside of me, burrowing into my belly and making me think of all the other rumbling noises he could make, grunting as he paints my body with his lust-filled touch, groaning as he drives up between my legs.
Stop it, I scream at the crazy desires flowing endlessly through me. He’d never want you like that. He’d die before he even looked at you like that. So stop torturing yourself.
But even as I try to get my desires under control, they multiply and flow through me, stampeding over my resolve and making it so I can’t look at this moment with anything approaching reason, with anything approaching clarity.
I know he’d never look at me like that, and yet it’s impossible to convince my tingling body, my rioting nerves of this fact.
The men are quiet for the rest of the journey.
Murphy stares out of the window, his hand a tight fist on his leg, his jaw tight as he watches the city roll by. Cillian is on his phone, typing furiously with two thumbs, presumably making whatever arrangements they need to sort.
I try my best not to study Murphy as we stop at a red light, but it’s difficult when I’ve waited for what feels like centuries to see him again.
Fine, it’s only been three years, but it feels like much longer. Even as I warn myself to keep my gaze pinned on the road, whenever I get the chance I glance in the rearview to steal a steamy glimpse of him, his blue eyes brooding, his jaw tight, tension moving through his giant body like he’s going to tear off his shirt to show me his throbbing muscles underneath.
Finally, we reach the offices and I drive into the underground garage, looking around for a parking space.
Murphy coughs out a deep laugh. “I have my own spot, Molly.”
Of course, he does. My cheeks flame red and I fight down a snappy response.
You don’t have to talk to me like I’m an idiot, I want to scream. It’s my first day. Give me a break.
“Sorry, Mr. Moran,” I say instead, hating that I apologized.
But it’s not like I can take it back now.
“It’s at the end, on the left. There’s a sign with my name on it.”
“Of course,” I murmur.
I try to shoo away the burning redness in my cheeks, but the harder I try, the more the blush spreads until my cheeks and my neck are burning crimson.
Murphy smirks at me in the rearview. For a second I let myself believe it’s because he finds me attractive, cute, alluring in some way.
But of course, it’s not that.
He’s probably just enjoying my discomfort.
Chapter Four
Murphy
I spend the day in my office with Cillian and a few of my most trusted men – men from the legitimate business and the mob side – making arrangements to protect the city from Juan and his drug-dealing aspirations.
We arrange to increase our presence in the most underfunded parts of the city, direct our journalism branch to focus on rundown neighborhoods so we’ll learn if Juan has started dealing the moment he does, and reinforced our businesses with armed security to make sure Juan doesn’t do anything stupid.
Moran Enterprises is a multi-winged business and it gives me a lot of control over the city, but if the Cartel starts dropping bodies and causing mayhem, I’ll be forced to go the non-legitimate route.
All through the day, I find it difficult to pull my mind away from Molly.
Sitting in the back of the car as she drove was torture, especially with Cillian next to me. I couldn’t do what I wanted, reach out and grab her, direct those big naive eyes to mine, and growl that she’s mine and she always will be.
I couldn’t let her know that the second I get a chance I’m going to fuck her harder and more passionately than she’s ever been touched.
But maybe it was good that Cillian was there, stopping me. I’ve known Henry since I was a kid. Even if he’s had his problems, I can’t betray him by unleashing my carnal need on his daughter…
But can I resist her?
Her scent filled the car, fresh and tempting, and the moment a blush spread across her cheeks and disappeared down her shirt had me gritting my teeth in an effort not to follow the redness. My mind flooded with images of her curvaceous breasts dappled red with her desire, with her shyness, with all the things that make me want to drive into her more and more each moment.
I ride the elevator down to the garage, achingly aware that I’m alone. It’s going to be just the two of us in
the car as she takes me back to my penthouse apartment.
I try to think of all the good times I’ve shared with her father, playing cards, smoking cigars, making jokes, and memories. But every time I try to warn myself away from her, my seed surges into my manhood and makes me rock solid.
I think about Molly on her back instead, her luscious breasts naked and begging to be palmed and touched and teased.
I think about the way her nipples will pebble in excitement for me when I suck on them.
The elevator door opens to reveal Molly leaning against the car, her arms crossed over her middle. I swallow as I walk across the parking lot, conscious of my footsteps echoing through its emptiness, as though reminding me that we’re completely alone down here. It’s eight o’clock and most of my employees have gone home.
I laugh gruffly when she spots me and quickly pushes away from the car, as though afraid I’m going to give her a stern boss-like warning.
Come to think of it, the idea of punishing Molly for an infraction doesn’t sound so bad.
I could bend her over the hood of the car and smooth my hands up her full thighs, squeezing onto her voluptuous flesh and tracking the pleasure that shivers across her, listening to the excited noises she makes, all hot breath and needy whining.
I’d push my solid manhood against her juicy round ass cheeks, letting her feel how excited she makes me, letting her feel how hungry I am to push inside of her until I’m buried up to the hilt.
“Tell me how badly you fucking need this,” I’d snarl in her ear, my hand grinding between her legs.
She wouldn’t even be able to answer as I rubbed her harder and fiercer, driving deeper inside of her, my manhood getting somehow more engorged at the feel of her hot needy sex clinging to me.
I swallow down the desire as she opens the back door for me.
“Are we waiting for anyone else or can we get going?” she asks.
I look at her, at her pursed lips and the way her cheeks bloom pink, almost red… fuck, and I bet her pussy is the same shade of pink, a winking hole begging to be played with, to be circled with my tongue until I can scent the need wafting from her creamy slit.
Driving the Mob: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 2