His Brother's Wife

by Mia Ford

  “Up,” he ordered.

  I shook my head.

  He pushed me, and I staggered, falling to my knees on the bottom steps. Pain radiated through my legs, firing all the nerve endings in sizzling agony. More tears rose in my eyes, and he pushed me again.

  “I said up, you fucking bitch.”

  I crawled up a few steps and then managed to get to my feet and make it the rest of the way. I gritted my teeth against the pain, and knowing I had no other choice, I rooted in my purse for the keys to my apartment. My fingers encountered the flash drives, and all of a sudden, I knew. He thought I’d sold him out.

  “Richie, can’t—”

  He shoved me against the door, and my shoulder flared in hot pain. “Shut your mouth.”

  He ripped the keys from my hand and, fumbling a bit as he got the right keys, shoved them into each lock. When he slammed the door open, he kicked me, and I went flying into the apartment, crashing onto the coffee table face first. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and for a moment, I saw black. I groaned and rolled off the table to sprawl on the floor.

  Richie slammed the door and stared down at me, a sadist about to unleash on an unsuspecting victim. How had I never seen this part of Richie directed at me? Only a man who had cruel thoughts, who felt all others beneath him, treated a person like this. I’d thought perhaps I might be the one person in his life he had some emotion for, but now I realized all of those emotions were as cold and vile as the rest of him.

  He lifted his foot and jammed it toward me. My eyes snapped closed as I prayed, but nothing happened. Nothing touched me. His laughter filled my ears.

  “It’s not going to be that easy, bitch. Get up.”

  I pushed myself to my elbows and managed to get to my feet.

  He leaned close to me and quietly said, “You’re going to tell me what went wrong.”

  My lip hurt, and I touched it to find my fingers smeared with blood. I reached for the Kleenex box on the table, but he grabbed my wrist and squeezed. My bones crunched beneath his fingers.

  “What did you do?” he snarled. He gave a little twist, and I cried out, my knees buckling as more pain flooded my body.

  “I don’t know, Richie,” I said, gasping. “I didn’t do anything.”

  He shook my arm, and I flinched. “Goddamn it, O’Shea is a fucking cop! And you knew that, didn’t you? Did you give him the details? Did you read those messages? I’m going to kill you so slowly you’ll see your heart still beating when it’s ripped into pieces.”

  “I didn’t know, Richie,” I said again. They were the only words I could remember. Danny had never told me he was a cop. I felt betrayed, alone, left to face the hard truth that he used me to get closer to Richie. Everything had been a lie. I had no one and nothing.

  Richie shoved me onto the floor and loomed above me. He grabbed a lamp from the end table, and the cord whipped across my face in a painful slash. He screamed and hurled it at the wall. Ceramic pieces exploded, raining down on me.

  I lay there and waited to die.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Danny

  I slammed on the brakes and jumped from the armored car, leaving it in the middle of the street. The outside of the club was utter pandemonium. People poured from the open doors, which revealed a dark, quiet interior. Tiffany and another dancer were huddled near the sidewalk. Tiffany was in tears, and the other woman was doing her best to comfort her. Hank stood in a cluster of men, all of them pale and shell-shocked. A couple of bouncers were trying to keep people away from the club.

  I didn’t have time to even ask questions. I headed for the door.

  Charity jumped in front of me. “Stay out of there, Danny. It’s bad. We’ve already called the police.”

  At that moment, it became clear the police had already been there. Several detectives scrambled from cars down the street and pushed through the throngs of people starting to gather on the corner. I would make them pay if anything happened to Hannah. Dumb shits. How long had they planned to just sit there before approaching Richie Silvestri?

  “My girl’s in there.” I moved Charity aside gently, only because I didn’t want to hurt her. Charity’s face became hard, and when she started to speak, I yelled at her, “I’m a fucking cop! Get the fuck out of my way!”

  She gripped my arm. “Danny, wait! Do you have a gun?”

  My hand instinctively went to my side where my gun would normally be holstered. I didn’t have my gun. It wasn’t part of my disguise. “No, fuck, but that’s okay, I don’t need a gun to take down this prick.”

  She looked as if she struggled with a decision, and then she reached behind her back and pulled a snubnosed Smith and Wesson .38. She pressed it into my hand. I gazed at it in shock.

  “I’m DEA,” Charity said. “I know what’s going down, but my orders were to bide my time, wait for backup, and do not confront him, no matter what. They’re shit orders, but that’s the way it is. So”—she shoved me—“if you’re going, do it now before he hurts her.”

  When I managed to get through the sea of people and inside, I took stock quickly. No customers. Hannah was not behind the bar. The speakers spit out nothing but soft static. Everything was quiet, dark, eerie, and in front of the bar lay Jonell, a small puddle of blood pooling around his head.

  I knew he was dead. Still, I hunkered down and felt for a pulse.

  “Fuck, Jonell, I’m sorry.”

  A crash sounded from upstairs. I sprinted through the club and took the stairs three at a time. I pulled back my leg, my bad knee screaming in protest, and kicked the door, blasting it inward.

  Hannah lay crumpled on the floor. I could do nothing but hope she was okay because Richie whirled around, and before I knew what hit me, a bullet ripped into my chest.

  I staggered back and fell against the open door. A black veil tried to come down over my eyes, but that wasn’t happening today. Today I had to save my girl, and if killing this piece of shit happened in the process, so be it.

  I tried to pull a painful breath into my lungs. Damn it hurt.

  “Get away from her, you cocksucker,” I growled the words over a painful breath. I pulled the trigger and had a moment to see the bullet hit Richie in the center of the forehead before the floor slammed up to claim me.

  * * * *

  I blinked, trying to figure out where I was. Everything was hazy and white, but I knew I wasn’t in heaven. Sure, I was an okay guy, but I’m not sure I was good enough for heaven, even though I thought my mother would use bribery to get me in. A moan escaped me.

  “He’s awake,” someone said.

  I managed to lift my hand and found something gauzy wrapped around my eyes. Slowly it began to unravel, and I blinked again to find a solid, somewhat blurry nurse smiling down at me.

  “You smashed that pretty face into the floor and split your forehead nearly in half. This was just a precaution.”

  “How are you feeling?” The question came from my commander, who rose from a chair and stood above me.

  “Like I’ve been run over by a steam roller.”

  “A bullet to the chest will do that,” he said.

  I glanced around to take stock. An IV hung from a bag and dripped liquid into my arm. I assumed it had pain medication, too, because I felt okay. Nothing really hurt, though I felt stiff. The heart monitor beeped away cheerily, as though just reminding people I was alive in case they wondered.

  “The bullet hit your lung, which is just a shade better than your heart. You’ve had surgery, of course, and you’ve been pretty much out of it for three days.”

  “Silvestri?” I whispered, my voice barely a croak. I knew I’d hit him but still had to make sure. “Is he dead?”

  “As a doornail.” The commander moved closer to peer down at me from the side of the bed. “Your girl’s been by to see you.”

  “My girl?”

  “Hannah Silvestri.”

  I blinked at him and tried to swallow. “She’s okay?”

  “She’s more
than okay. She’s a freaking gem. She gave us all the details for the heist, down to the name of the co-conspirators. She had made copies of everything on the flash drives that Richie had her deliver. She’s also willing to testify against everybody involved and supply any other information we need down the road.”

  “And Butch Collette?”

  “Collette wanted to make a deal, but with Hannah testifying, his value went downhill fast. He’s going to be doing some serious time.”

  “I’m the last one to defend Collette, but at least he didn’t shoot at anyone.”

  “That might take five years off the considerable sentence he’ll get, but if he cooperates, he’ll make out better than the others.”

  “How about Archie Devereaux?”

  “Hannah doesn’t seem to think he’s involved in anything too deep. It’s up to the DA. She said she’d hire a good attorney for him if it comes to it. I think she feels like she owes him for bringing you to the club.”

  That statement made me smile internally, but I didn’t need to get into it with my boss. “How can she afford an attorney?”

  “She inherits Richie’s clean assets. Money. Businesses, real estate, stocks, bonds, the works.”

  “Jesus Christ. She gets all Richie’s assets? How… ironic…So where is she?”

  “Right in the hallway.” He strolled to the door and opened it, sticking his head out. He said a few quiet words and then turned back to me. “I’ll make sure the two of you aren’t disturbed.”

  I nodded, and before I could prepare myself, there she was.

  Her lip was swollen and looked tender, and the bruise on her forehead was a rainbow of blues and purples. A jagged red scrape sliced across her cheek. She had a splint on her wrist, and had the prick still been alive, I would have killed him with less kindness for what he’d done to his sister. Hannah looked as though she’d been through a battle, and yet she’d never looked more beautiful to me.

  The dark hair caught the last of the day’s sunshine slanting through the window, glistening in a glossy braid over her shoulder. She wore a yellow dress, and her long, lean legs went on forever. She reminded me of sunshine and soft breezes and tropical drinks. She seemed thinner, not quite as powerful as she’d always looked at the club, and I remembered, despite Richie’s cruelty and abuse, he had been her brother and he was dead. Death caught us off guard so easily.

  “First, I want to say thank you,” she said. “For saving me… and for stopping him.”

  I nodded, and she came closer. “And second?”

  “You lied to me, Danny.” Her words were quiet, solemn. “I wondered after everything happened whether your name was even Danny, but your commander told me it is.”

  “Daniel Dutton.” I held out my hand, and she looked at it curiously. “Nice to meet you, Hannah Silvestri. Can we start over?”

  I waited, hoping she would let us start over.

  “I don’t want to start over,” Hannah said.

  My breath stuttered in my chest. Well, Daniel Dutton, you can’t have everything.

  She leaned over the bed, put her good hand on my shoulder, and kissed me. “I want to pick up where we left off. You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?”

  I nodded, too shell-shocked to get any words out.

  “You owe me a trip to the Navy Pier.” She glanced at the closed door and then carefully straddled my body, her soft body settling over mine—just like heaven. “And you said you’d show me paradise.”

  “That, my dear, is a promise I intend to keep. Go and lock the door.”

  Epilogue: Hannah

  Danny was released a week later from the hospital, expected to make a full recovery. He’d need a few more weeks of taking things easy, then he could slowly ease back into work, though his undercover days were probably over since he was at the center of one of the largest criminal busts in the history of the city involving not just the Chicago PD, but the DEA, the ATF, and half a dozen other agencies who had been after my brother for years.

  Archie picked Danny up at the hospital for me and ferried him to Ritchie’s—I mean—to my house in the suburbs just outside of town. Archie helped me get Danny situated in the master bedroom, then I told him to take a hike. I could handle things from here. Archie, who had turned into my personal assistant of sorts, just smiled and told me to take it easy on the guy.

  “Oh, I will,” I said, shoving him out the door. “Don’t you worry.”

  * * * *

  It felt so good just knowing he was home.

  My knight in shining armor.

  My savior.

  My man.

  The moment Archie was gone I stripped off my clothes and ran to the bedroom. My pussy was so wet the juices ran down the insides of my legs as I moved. Danny was sitting up in bed, smiling, waiting, naked, stroking his already rock-hard cock.

  “Is that for me?” I asked, climbing on top of him, pressing my lips to his. His mouth was hot and wet.

  “For you and you alone,” he said, gripping his cock and sliding it along my pussy, spreading precum over my lips and rubbing circles over my clit. My pussy ached for him, clenching and spasming and sending ripples of anticipation through my body. When he held his long, thick cock upright, I lowered my body and slid my cunt over his cock, impaling myself until I sat on his pelvis and his cock was buried deep in me, touching every inch, so snug I could feel the veins pulsing against my soft flesh.

  “Ride me,” he said, his voice tight. “Slowly…”

  Gradually I began to move in small increments, up and down, inch by inch, until Danny gritted his teeth and sweat bathed his skin. I sat straight, my hands lightly on his hips, my pelvis rocking and lifting and rolling as I fucked him. He stared into my eyes, his gleaming with both desire and affection, and I felt his emotions roll toward me in waves. Good emotions. Healthy emotions. Emotions that offered hope for happiness and a possible future. No, I didn’t want to start over. I suspected that much of Danny O’Shea resided in Daniel Dutton, and I wanted to know him better.

  “God, your pussy feels so good,” he sighed. “I’ve been dying for this moment for a week…” He dug his fingers into my hips and I saw him wince in pain, so I took his hands and told him to be still.

  “Let me do the work,” I said. “You just relax and enjoy.”

  Slowly, I increased my pace, rocking faster and faster on his cock, lifting and dropping to force him deep into my cunt. My pussy swelled and pulsed, and my clit ached for attention, so I used my fingers to rub it, faster and faster to the movement of my body. The pleasure surrounded me, swamped me, and when my orgasm tore through me, I arched my back and let the waves drown me.

  My entire body trembled, and my cunt throbbed, sending pulses of sensation through my pelvis and limbs. Danny gave a soft cry, and then cum burst from his cock, flooding my pussy, the throb of his cock matching the throb of my cunt.

  As the tide of sensation tapered off, I drew in a deep breath and slowly lowered myself down next to Danny, careful of his chest and my still damaged wrist. He curled his arm around me and pulled me close, protecting me once again.

  I lifted my face and found him staring at me.

  “I think I might love you, Hannah Silvestri,” he said softly.

  “I think I might love you, too, Daniel Dutton.”

  “Can you see a future with a cop?”

  “I can see any future that has you in it.”

  “What about you?” he asked, his eyes circling my face. “Besides me, what’s in your future?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” I said, rolling over to rest my chin on his chest. “Now that I’ve sold off or shut down all of Ritchie’s businesses, I’ve been thinking about a new venture. A combination Italian restaurant and Irish pub. I’d call it Hannah O’Shea’s.”

  He smiled and brushed the hair from my eyes.

  “Somehow, that makes perfect sense.”

  Hot Deleted Scene

  As the sunlight peeked through the blinds, I stretched like a lazy c
at in need of a petting. My tits pressed against the Egyptian cotton sheets when I lifted my arms over my head. My nipples were hard and taut, and my pussy still ached, wanting more, even though Danny and I had gone five rounds the night before. Was there such a thing as too much sex? Not in my world there wasn’t.

  A hard, muscled body moved on top of mine, and Danny gripped my hands, holding them in pace. A smile curved my lips as his dark, dangerous gaze locked on me. He separated my thighs with his knee, spreading my legs wide, and cradled his body tight against mine, his stiff cock against my cunt, so warm and damp and eager for some morning delight.

  “Good morning, beautiful.” Danny’s breath washed against my face as he bent his head to nibble on my ear.

  “It is a good morning, but you could make it so much better.”

  That look in his eye sharpened, and then a devilish gleam appeared. “I never turn down a dare, Hannah. You should know that.”

  “I do know that,” I murmured. “Show me what you’ve got. Fuck me into tomorrow.”

  “Not yet. A little fun first.”

  His eyes still on mine, he slid down the mattress until his hot mouth hovered just above my pussy. He tortured me by pressing open-mouthed kisses across my pelvis, my inner thighs, and my mound, creating small tremors in his wake. He finally licked my slit, and my hips lifted instinctively toward his tongue as my entire body trembled in anticipation. When his lips locked on my clit and he began to suck in slow, rhythmic draws, I closed my eyes in bliss. The man knew how to make a good morning better.

  I raked my fingers though Danny’s dark silky hair, pulling his head tighter against me. I listened to his contented murmurs and the sucking sounds of moist flesh as he lapped and nibbled and kissed. My desire spiraled higher, and when Danny shoved two fingers into my hot needy cunt, my pussy clamped down against them and spasmed.

  The orgasm flashed through my body like a lightning strike. My back arched as I came, my heart hammering against my ribs. I cried out as streams of intense, grinding pleasure surged from my clit through my pelvis. All of my limbs turned to liquid, and I sprawled helplessly beneath my undercover lover as he chuckled.