by Sedona Venez
I raised my chin in a gesture of defiance and met his gaze. “Good-bye, McKay,” I muttered under my breath before turning on my heel. I walked away, ignoring the hole he was likely boring into my back with his gaze. And like a coward, I picked up speed and ran off the rooftop.
EIGHT
CORE
Ignoring Max’s and Rocco’s knowing stares, I paced back and forth on the rooftop.
Sinthia Michaels was trouble, and she was just my type of woman. Now all I could think about was fucking her so hard she would taste my cock in the back of her throat.
Shit. How the hell did I let it go so far?
I’d known I was fucked when I watched her strolling into the gala. Her body moved like a panther—sexy, determined, and confident. She was tall and voluptuous with curves that cried out to be caressed. In a matter of minutes, she’d shattered my control. It had taken every bit of self-restraint not to back her into a dark corner, pull up her dress, and fuck the shit out of her.
I’d been obsessed with her bombshell body since our meeting at my office. She was one of the most stunning women I’d laid eyes on. I’d memorized her every feature from her rich tanned skin, bow-shaped full lips, and tilted nose. Her long hair cascaded around her shoulders like a sheet of fine silk. It was all confirmation that I was losing sight of my goal to use Sinthia to get to Bigsby. I’d had to remind myself several times that she was just a pawn to be used to trap him.
But when she’d swayed onto the rooftop, I’d seen the fire and determination in her eyes, and my cock had gotten hard.
Damn. I loved it.
Not many women or men had the nerve to go toe-to-toe with me. It was a shame Sinthia and I hadn’t met under different circumstances, but I was playing to win. And Bigsby Calhoune was my game.
Max edgily looked at me. “Core? Are you ready to go, bro?”
“I’ll meet you two downstairs. I need a minute to cool off.”
“I bet you do,” Rocco mumbled.
Max and Rocco nodded, and then they turned and left.
My hands clenched and unclenched by my sides as I took a deep breath. My body was on edge with the need to find Sinthia and finish what we’d started. I was aroused at the mere thought. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted someone with the intensity I felt for Sinthia, but I knew I’d have to get over it fast.
My mind raced out of control. Why the fuck did I have to meet her under such fucked-up circumstances?
Running my hand through my hair, I stopped short and then slammed my fist against the wall.
Fuck it.
I’d wanted to bend her over the balcony rail and shove my cock so far up her cunt that I wouldn’t know where she ended and I began.
It didn’t help matters that she was exactly the type of woman I was attracted to.
Shit, she’d looked fucking gorgeous when she welcomed my touch. Her beautiful hazel eyes had glazed over with lust. Her pouty full lips had turned up in the corners as if begging me to delve further. It was sensual the way her face had glowed, and more importantly, her body had reacted to my touch like a woman tuned to my fingers. All the while, her head had tipped to the side as if taunting me to break her, to make her beg.
Little had she known that her lack of submission was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. My sadistic streak had pressed to the forefront with the burning urge to make Sinthia mine—well, at least temporarily. Eventually, I would tire of her, as I had with all women. My life wasn’t conducive for any attachments, even a momentary one.
My lips curved up. It hadn’t even bothered me when Mitch told me she’d called him about helping her break our contract. Mitch had thought I would be angry, but it was quite the opposite. I loved a woman who was willing to fight, willing to get her hands dirty, because that was what it would take to stand against me. Going against me was like bringing a knife to a gunfight. It would be a bloody slaughter. I would crush her to get what I wanted, and I wouldn’t lose a bit of sleep about it.
I was ruthless, cold, sadistic. That was how my enemies had described me. But I hadn’t gone from a street thug to self-made international business mogul by making friends and kissing asses. I did what was necessary. What most people couldn’t or shouldn’t, I would do that and more. That was how I had accomplished about ninety-nine percent of the things I’d done in my life, and Sinthia Michaels wasn’t going to be an exception.
I waited for the inevitable. What will be her next move? Will she offer her body in exchange for getting out of the contract? No. She didn’t seem like that type of woman. Besides, that wouldn’t work. I’d just fuck her and still crush her. But I loved a challenge.
I’d been tempted to tell Mitch to take her on as a client. It would be fun to play around with her like a cat with a mouse, but that would be a waste of my time and hers. Our agreement was ironclad. But, damn, just anticipating her next move was fun. I had no doubt she would continue trying to wiggle her way out of our contract.
Ram came strolling up to me. “So what did Bigsby say?”
“What?” I asked in a low tone.
In exasperation, he threw his arms up in the air. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” I shot him an irritated stare. “He did a song and dance, apologizing for his behavior toward me at his fundraiser a couple weeks ago.”
I shrugged, but it still irked me, remembering how the asshole’s eyes had scrutinized my all-seeing eye tattoo on my neck. He had clearly not approved of my presence at his dinner event until Mitch had admonished him by pointing out I was Core McKay—as in McKay Corporation, one of Mitch’s biggest clients.
“But I knew he was trying to feel me out about the Sin Michaels deal. He’ll be calling me soon. I guarantee you.” Bigsby was a pompous asshole, and I had no mercy for idiots. My nostrils flared. “We’ll wait for his next move. I saw the desperation in his eyes. It won’t be long. Trust me.”
And if shit couldn’t get worse, dipshit Kyle Fillion appeared on the rooftop, decked out in his preppy designer tuxedo. His carefully coiffed blond hair gleamed, and his face was tanned and clean-shaven. I could practically smell the money on him as he walked up to Ram and me.
“Hey, Core. Have you seen a gorgeous brunette with a beautiful ass on the rooftop?” he asked, fixing me with a toothpaste-ad grin.
My fingers curled into fists as I struggled to hold on to my temper. “Excuse me?” I asked, taking a menacing step forward.
I despised Kyle. He was the kind of snob who used to look down on me when I’d been just a poor kid from the projects with a single mom who worked hard by stripping to put food on the table. I was far from poor now, but I’d never forget how it’d felt to be treated like dirt by guys like him.
Kyle ran a hand through his hair. “Sinthia Michaels. Bigsby said he saw her up here.” He grinned. “Damn! I can’t believe how good she looks. If I’d known she would turn out so hot, I wouldn’t have dumped her ass.” A wistful expression crossed his face.
I angled my face in a silent warning, never letting my eyes drop from Kyle’s. “She’s not interested in you,” I delivered between clenched teeth, not bothering to hide the fury building within me.
Confusion clouded his gaze. “Wait. Are you fucking her?”
I closed my eyes, trying to bottle the rage bubbling to the surface. I wanted to punch this smug rich motherfucker in the face and break every damn bone in his body. My eyes snapped open.
He clapped me on the back. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. A woman like her wouldn’t think twice about fucking both of us.” He winked at me. “I don’t mind sharing.” A smile curved his lips.
“She’s mine,” I said to Kyle in a calm but icy tone, grabbing him by the throat. I effortlessly rammed him against the wall, ignoring his yelp of outrage.
“How dare you touch me!” Kyle screeched. He tried to get away from my grasp, but I held him close. “I’ll fucking sue you.”
“You must have a death wish, Kyle.” Anger course
d through my veins as I squeezed.
Kyle sputtered and clawed. The more he struggled, the tighter I constricted. The urge to extinguish his worthless life burned like a fire through my blood until I felt strong hands trying to pull me off of him.
“Core? What the hell?” Ram barked.
I released Kyle.
“Are you insane! I’ll…” Kyle huffed and puffed as he quickly tried to straighten his jacket.
My temper and general take-no-shit attitude was known far and wide among both my enemies and peers. I had no damn clue why Kyle hadn’t gotten the message.
“You’ll what?” I scowled, stepping forward and leveling an ice-cold glower at him. “You want to dance, big boy?” I hissed.
Kyle gave Ram a stricken look. “Ram, this is bullshit. He’s out of control.”
“Don’t fucking look at Ram. Look at me, you sniveling wimp.” My tone demanded attention. “He can’t fucking protect you. I’m the one you should be worried about.”
Kyle dusted off his tuxedo jacket. “I’m not afraid of you, Core.”
I stepped into his space, staring him down. “You should be.” Cold dismissal hung off every word. I shoved him away. “Now get the fuck out of my face,” I spoke with quiet menace.
He held up his hand before storming off.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ram asked in a careful tone. His eyes widened. “Fuck! Sinthia Michaels? Are you actually thinking about tapping that ass?”
“And what if I was?” My irritation swelled. I really didn’t want to talk about this shit.
“She’s hot. I get it.” Ram shook his head, annoyance etched on every line of his face. “But you can’t fuck her, Core, for multiple reasons. Most importantly, it would be fucking messy.”
“What if I don’t give a shit about messy?” Challenge dripped off the words.
Common sense told me to walk away from this clusterfuck. That had been my plan until I walked into the gala and she looked at me with that bad-girl stare mixed with a side of trouble. There wasn’t anything contrived about the sway of her hips as she’d walked toward me with an impish smile. It had been wicked and real, which said she wasn't the type to run from several rounds of hard fucking.
Ram actually shook his head, and disapproval turned down the corners of his mouth. “Core, don’t do this. You’re thinking with your fucking cock.”
I leveled him with a glare. “I don’t need a lecture from you, Ram. I got this.”
With a snort, he cut his hand through the air. “I give up. Have it your way.”
I rolled my shoulders. “I always do,” I snapped before striding past him.
I would be damned if I admitted Ram was right. This was the first time in my life that I was thinking with my cock like some oversexed teenager.
Basic raw hunger surged through me, beating at my self-control. Sinthia was everything I wanted in a woman—strong and feisty. I was becoming painfully hard. The idea of fighting to have Sinthia submit to me had my cock throbbing and my balls aching. Damn. I had no doubt she’d battle me like a hellcat, and I couldn’t wait to find out how hard she’d fight.
NINE
CORE
Infuriated by my encounter at the gala with Sinthia, I plopped down on the bed. The playful curvaceous woman seemed to always be one step ahead. Her tenacity made me crave her even more. My attraction to her was trouble and distracting.
I had to stay focused on the mission—the destruction of Bigsby Calhoune. Tucking my hands behind my head, I thought back to the night Bigsby had changed my life by killing my mother.
***
Manhattan
Twenty-Six Years Ago
Mom grabbed my chin. “Look at that mug.” She shook her head, dark-red hair swirling around her. “What did I tell you about fighting?” She eyed the bruises and cuts on my face.
I pulled away. “Leave me alone.” Lowering my head, I waited for her to leave. When I didn’t hear the sound of her retreating feet, I roared, “They called you a whore!” I tried to keep the bitterness from seeping into my voice, but as I thought of her stripping in front of drunken men night after night, I found the task even more difficult with each passing moment.
She gasped, her mouth opening and then shutting, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Core, I dance for a living to put food on the table. I don’t give a shit what those snotty-nosed boys from the neighborhood think.” She stared at me. “Do you?”
I shook my head, but I did. By now, I should have been used to hearing the horrible names the kids from the building called her, but it hurt as bad as it had the first time. “I hate it here. Why can’t we move?” I despised everything about living in our cramped one-bedroom apartment in the crime-ridden, drug-infested project—from the pungent aromas of fish and burned meat that wafted through the air to the piles of garbage lining the dirty sidewalks.
She sighed heavily. “I’m working on it, baby. Real soon I’ll have the money to move us out of here. We’ll have a fresh start.” She ruffled my hair. “You’ll see.”
I knew she was trying to make a better life for us. Nothing had been easy for her while raising me alone. I despised the fact that my biological father had abandoned us, leaving her before I was born. All I’d ever been told was that he and Mom had a one-night stand, and he’d wanted Mom to have an abortion. When she’d backed out at the last minute, he dumped her and told her he didn’t want anything to do with me.
“You promise?” I asked.
She beamed, brushing my hair away from my forehead. “I promise, baby.” The doorbell rang, and her face tensed. “That’s my friend. He’s going to help me with my money problem. I’ll be right back.”
I frowned. “What friend?”
Mom didn’t have any friends. She’d said the women from work were too catty and manipulative.
“That’s none of your business, Core. Just stay in your room and do your homework, okay?”
“Okay,” I responded grudgingly.
She walked through the bedroom door, and I cracked open my math book, dreading doing my homework.
When I heard my mother’s bloodcurdling scream, adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I ran through the living room into the kitchen where I saw her being pinned against the wall by a huge, burly man whose back was facing me.
My hands trembled as I helplessly watched in horror while the man repeatedly beat her face to a pulp.
“I warned you to keep your big fucking mouth shut, but you didn’t listen,” the man rasped. “Now you’re going to end up like Cruickshank—dead.”
Mom struggled to breathe. “Please. I’m sorry. I promise. I won’t say anything.”
“It’s too late for begging,” the man said with menace while punching her face.
I charged and jumped onto the man’s back, trying to claw his eyes out of his head.
The man slammed her to the floor, and I heard the bone-crunching thud of my mother’s frail body.
The man yelled, “You little bastard. You’re dead!” Then he swung around and grabbed me by the neck before throwing me clear across the kitchen.
My head smashed against the corner of the counter before my body bounced on the floor. Dazed, I slowly reached my hand up to where my head had hit. I felt the oozing thickness of gushing blood across my eyebrow, but I refused to give in to the pain. My mother needed me, and I couldn’t do anything to help her.
My heart leaped out of my chest when my mother screamed, “Leave my son alone, you fucking asshole. This is between you and me, you damn coward.”
The man pulled a .357 Magnum from his belt. “Shut the fuck up, whore. You brought this on yourself. I warned you to keep your damn mouth shut!” he yelled while grabbing her by the hair with one hand.
Turning her face away from him, the man placed the gun to her head. It seemed like an eternity to me as I stared at the ruby and diamond-encrusted horseshoe gold ring on his middle finger. The last thing I heard was the sound of the gun being fired, and then my
world went completely dark.
***
Manhattan
Present Day
I jerked straight up in bed, drenched in sweat and my heart racing. The nightmares every night were the first clue that something wasn’t right with my recollection of Mom’s death. Events of that mind-numbing night replayed in excruciating detail, like a horrible horror movie revealing details I’d long forgotten.
Running my hands through my hair, I swung my legs over the bed. I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. There were too many pieces to the puzzle, and none of them fit together perfectly. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was overlooking a key connection between Bigsby and Mom’s death.
Sighing, I sat up, scrubbing my hands over my face. I stood, deciding against taking a shower. I needed to burn off some frustration in my home gym this morning. I put on sweats and a T-shirt, and I went downstairs to find the morning ritual of the team gathering in my kitchen for breakfast in full swing.
Immediately going to the coffee pot, I grumbled under my breath, “Just one damn morning to myself—that’s all I fucking ask.”
Despite the fact that each team member had his own luxury apartment, it never failed that command central was always at my penthouse. I didn’t know how, but over the years, our living quarters had turned into a quasi-fraternity house with the one elevator giving us unlimited access to each other’s space. It was a good thing none of us had a special woman in our lives. God knew no woman would be able to cope with the lack of privacy due to the team running through our penthouse unannounced.
I poured a cup of coffee before glancing around the kitchen again, taking stock of my team. Ram was at my kitchen table, frowning into his coffee mug. Max was shoveling bacon and eggs into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days. Rocco was cooking while jamming to some hard rock pouring from his tablet. Kevin was pacing back and forth with his cell pressed against his ear.