Beautiful Things Evil People Do

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  I hesitate and snap a picture to send in a text message. “Am I at the right place?”

  “Yeah. Temporary code on the gate is your birthday backward. You can change it when you get upstairs.”

  “So where do I go?”

  “Wherever you want,” he chuckles as a beeping noise goes off. “Sorry, microwave. I have an angry hellion crying for lunch. We’re giving you the building. Technically, my loverboy is giving you his building, but yeah…”

  “… The whole building?”

  “Yeah, it’s a really long story, but Sal doesn’t want it anymore because it holds some bad memories. If you decide you don’t want it, let me know. We’ll take it back.”

  “What is this place across the street now?”

  “They make lingerie!” Echo excitedly chirps, doing her little bounce dance and showing the website to me. “I have a few EH pieces!”

  Deacon laughs. “Yeah, we own that too. The top floor of the loft is finished out like a house, floors two and three store fabric and shit for EH, and the first floor is the garage. Enjoy yourselves.”

  “Did the horses make it alright?”

  “Yeah, they just got here last night,” he says, mumbling. “Sal is out riding now.”

  “So, top floor?”

  “Yep. Call me after you’ve slept. I’ve got a business proposition for you.”

  I snicker, “Does it involve lingerie? Because that is something I could really get behind.”

  “No,” he chuckles as Echo spins and shakes her ass at me. “But I’m sure he’ll sell you some points if you want in,” he snickers as the baby gurgles. “Just don’t unpack everything.”

  “Is he going to want the building back?”

  “Nah, he’s over it, but we had an idea this morning over Denver omelettes that might work better for you considering Axel bought the building out in Godland.”

  I laugh. “I told him I wasn’t working for Peacock.”

  “You’re right. You’re not,” he maintains, snapping his Zippo closed. “Someone else wants to hire you outright and make you a partner.”

  “Okay, this is too much for my head at the moment.”

  The mafia is calling my name.

  And coming for repayment.

  “I told you—later,” he chuckles, exhaling. “Go take a shower. Unwind with your fiancée. There is a list of all the good restaurants that deliver in the kitchen drawer. Tell them you’re my cousin. They’ll take good care of you.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  Echo blinks at me. “… The whole building?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, awed by their generosity, comprehending what it all means—the mob owns me.

  “You were only supposed to get her out of the mess she is in.”

  “It’s becoming more than that. I want her,” I said to my cousin. “And I need some help.”

  “We only agreed to do this for her brother because Echo was Rampage royalty,” he informed. “If it had been anyone else, I would’ve said no, but I owe one of their charter princesses a favor.”

  Deacon was in debt too.

  And I knew I would be if they helped me get Echo Maines.

  “Can you help me?”

  “Yeah, but it’s going to cost you the rest of your life.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t fucking care. I need this girl.”

  “We could use your skills.”

  “Whatever it takes. Deal.”

  I glance up at the daunting four-story piece of architecture. “They own Ever Hope too.”

  “Your cousin and his gay lover…own a lingerie house?”

  Lighting a smoke, I snort as the idea seems to blow her mind. “They own a lot of things to launder money through, sweetheart. And he isn’t gay. He’s bi and married to a woman.”

  “Oh,” she whispers. “Is she pretty or some old hag he uses as a front?”

  “Um…” Furrowing my brow, I question, “Does this matter?”

  “I want to know everything, Jynx.”

  I glance over at the high fence surrounding the warehouse. I see the visions of Deacon and I running in the parking lot that we pretended was our kingdom. There used to be an alcove near the building’s garage, and it served as our fortress. The lamp posts dotting the lot were fake trees, and we battled massive monsters like beetles. One time, we beat a snake to death with two metal pipes we stole from the shop. We were reckless rebels of the concrete jungle.

  “We call her Sal’s hot wife,” I admit the details of the boy’s club. “She’s half English, half Japanese, and runs her own mafia.”

  She rapidly blinks like I spit in her eye. “So he works for her?”

  “No, he has his outfit, she has hers, and my cousin has the club,” I say as she looks baffled by the idea. “Deacon and Sal partner their businesses together.”

  She gives a scrutinizing stare with much concern. “… Who is the biggest?”

  “She is—by far—right now, but that could change.”

  “You should work for her,” she blurts out as I laugh. “She knows what’s up.”

  “I cannot go to work for the opposing team,” I inform, unable to stop smiling. “Shall we go check this out?”

  “Yes!” she excitedly squees. “We’re on a grand adventure! But you should still work for his hot wife.”

  I’m not sure why she is encouraging this.

  His hot wife is not my type.

  I prefer to be the only one in bed with a pair of balls.

  I like my women, demure and undefiled.

  “We are having a grand adventure,” I reply, pushing in my birthday backward. “And, no.”

  “Damn you’re old, 1983. Are y’all going to refer to me as Jynx’s hot wife?”

  “Probably, Miss 1998.”

  “That’s much better than old lady.”

  She grins, and I kiss her lips. We hold hands, walking back to the curb. “You pull in first.”

  I watch as she carefully backs up and swings her car into the small parking garage. She runs back out and hops up in my truck. I didn’t get her door, and I feel like an ass about it. Yeah, yeah. Gentleman.

  “What if the F-250 doesn’t fit?”

  “I’m not thinking about that,” I reply. She grabs my phone, sitting in the console as I tilt my head with dread. “It’s not gonna fit.”

  “Deacon says it will if you hit it directly in the middle.”

  “Even with the trailer?”

  “Yep!” she declares with huge eyes and a shrug. “He says pull straight in.”

  I snark, “I never pull in crooked.”

  I back up and swing it wide as she booms, “Holy shit, you’re good!”

  “Age, baby,” I flirt, grinning, and she pokes my arm. “Takes a certain amount of crazy to do this.”

  “Fuck!” she yelps. “That scared the hell out of me! My feet are sweating!”

  I shut off the engine and look around. “We are tight in here. Hold on. I’ll come and get you.” I weasel out the door and shut the cage door for the garage before obtaining my soon-to-be bride from the truck. “M’lady?”

  She slips her hand in mine. “I’m so happy, J.”

  “You’re not alone.” I smile.

  I grab our overnight bag, and we crank up to the fourth floor in the antique cage lift. The pulleys squeak on the quaint, stylish, and chic elevator. Her hand brushes over the exquisite relic detailed with curves, swirls, and birdcage inlays.

  She mutters, “This is either going to be a dump or a bachelor pad.”

  “I’m trying my birthday again,” I say, opening the door as we stop. “Let’s hope it works.”

  The mechanics click, and I cautiously open the door as Echo peers inside. “Jesus…”

  “Yeah,” I snicker, glancing around at the tranquil space. “Welcome to the mafia.”

  “… It was theirs?”

  “Yep, well his…” I walk over to the garage door inset with mirrored tiles and push the button outside. My cousin warned me it looked l
ike a stalker’s lair though I wasn’t sure I believed him. The whole place is sleek and sexy black with chrome finishes and heavily lacquered dark woods—beyond clean and neat. “Thank heavens there’s a rail.”

  This is OCD to the max.

  I’m in nirvana amongst the shadowy creed, but I’m not sure she is comfortable.

  “And they’re giving it to you?”

  “No, they’re giving it to us,” I correct, running my fingers over the gothic-style guard rail emblazoned with fleur de lys. I nod once. “This is a hell of a homecoming gift.”

  I am eternally indebted.

  I will never get out from under them.

  One look at Echo, though, and I don’t give a shit. I’ll play dirty if it means keeping her on her knees.

  She doesn’t yet know; they own her too.

  And I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her that. I may do the work, but we’re a package deal. If I am in, so is she.

  “Sky lights and tin ceiling!” She peers up, and her eyes twinkle at mine. “This is all ours?” Immediately, her expression contorts at the sight of the floor to ceiling black metal rack with an enormous horizontal brace three-quarters up. “What is that?” She tiptoes closer, tilting her head. “… Jynx?”

  I stroke my beard and snarl. “That is where we pray for forgiveness from our sins.”

  “Oh, my God…it looks like a cross.”

  “Our fetish is our religion.”

  Grabbing her phone, she mutters, “He’s fucking insane!”

  “Who are you texting?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “One of the boys, my guess is Sal.”

  “He says there is a remote control on the back wall,” she replies as I hold it up and toss it to her. I don’t know if his efforts are sincere or he’s manipulating her with friendship to win her over. I wouldn’t put either past him. “This is beyond. So…someone gets in this thing…”

  “The harness,” I instruct, filling in the blank and halting my laughter. “And they go up. It’s a custom suspension rig.”

  “… You knew?”

  “Deacon mentioned it, but we don’t have to use it.”

  Her voice quivers, “Have you used one before?”

  “Not quite like that one but yes,” I candidly reply. She needs to know the extent of my spirituality before we travel any further down this road. “Many times.”

  “With?”

  “Flavor of the night,” I bluntly say. “Never twice. Never any place I cared about. That was reserved for someone special, someone I was waiting on.”

  “If I had been eighteen…”

  “Don’t go there,” I mutter, stepping closer. “Because age means nothing in terms of my steadfastness to the craft. If you had just graduated high school, I would’ve too.”

  A veil of innocence emerges on her face. She knows what I would’ve done and the kind of predator I am. Still, she stays, infinitely curious, and testing my game. “Are you a bad man, J.A. Monroe?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I confess, “I am.”

  “And you never got caught?”

  “One time was enough.” I mumble the excuse, “Stalking.”

  “But you didn’t learn your lesson.”

  I devilishly smirk. “Ask the question properly, Abigail.”

  “How many girls…”

  “Quite a few.”

  She gulps. “Is there an age cut off?”

  “Yeah. I like tits, ass, and pretty red lips. My preference is young women—any kind—thin women, fat women, white women, black women, a quarter Korean women. Any woman as long as she looks like a young woman.” I motion an hourglass with my hands and wink.

  “Are you a predator?”

  “Yes, I am,” I admit.

  Covering her mouth, she understands my addiction and why I tend to avoid anyone under thirty. One taste. One hit. And I am right back on my drug of choice.

  “If you lost me…”

  “I wasn’t going to date anyone under forty,” I reply, having thought it out. “I was going to be some older woman’s boy toy.”

  “But it isn’t your fancy.”

  “Twenty-two seems to fancy me a lot.”

  The intense moment lingers, and she takes a breath. “It’s kind of warm in here.”

  Raising a brow, I bait, “It’s not going to get any cooler.”

  “How high are the ceilings you think?”

  “At least twelve feet, maybe more,” I say, staring at her, absorbing it all. She taps the button, and her mouth gapes open. “… Are you okay?” I know she’s not. This is a lot to handle—from the new environment to the criminal underworld I am about to be heavily involved with again and the truth of who I am. “One step at a time, babygirl.”

  “Ahh…” she pauses, enamored and shocked by it all as the harness goes up. “And you do what exactly when you’re up there?” Taking a random guess, I open one of the drawers off to the side and smack the whip against the floor. She jumps with fright. “Oh, God!”

  Her naiveté shows. And my dick pounds with an awareness of her youth. I step closer, and her breaths quicken. “Do you want to play, Echo?”

  “Shit just got serious, Sir.”

  “We don’t mess around with our daily devotionals.”

  “And I’m the sinner because I don’t speak your native tongue.”

  The back of my hand brushes over her cheek to her neck. I slip my fingers into her blouse and fondle her bare breast. I rub my palm over her nipple. “You can immigrate. We have a ritual for that.”

  Echo

  We’re sitting on the tiled floor of the oversized shower with the hot water pouring on us. I watch the water droplets splashing against the glass as I consider what all I have agreed to.

  The glittering diamond on my finger catches my attention. Between the droplets and the facets, the rock dances, sparkling with his love as tears cascade over my cheeks, blending into the surroundings and disguising the dread.

  “You’re having doubts,” he mumbles in my ear. His arms are loosely wrapped around my naked body. “I can hear you even when you don’t say a word.”

  “What if I am wrong and cannot do this?”

  “You will do this,” he replies, kissing my neck. “You don’t have a choice anymore. I won’t let you go.”

  “What if, I was wrong and I cannot be with a bad boy?”

  “You won’t do that because you would be lying to yourself. You love me. It’s just been a lot to digest today.”

  I close my eyes as his hands graze against the sides of my breasts. “What if, the club or the mob is too much for me to handle?”

  “It isn’t,” he smugly contends. “If you can handle months with me, then there is nothing new to handle.”

  “But there is,” I argue as the smokescreen of tears thickens, and I cry harder. “Not only are you about to be involved in some very illegal activity, you apparently like them young.”

  “You aren’t old,” he interjects with a ferocious snap. “You’re letting all of the external forces intimidate you. Control your mind. Focus only on me. Let the internal force be your guide. Listen to my voice, Echo.”

  I push away, not wanting to be seduced by his sensual words. “How can I when there is a giant black cross in my living room where people get whipped on?”

  He gives me a side-eyed glance. “Just say it, already.”

  “Say what?”

  He calmly replies, “Stop letting your curiosity get the best of you and say—Will you please whip me, Jynx?”

  I eye him harshly. “What? No Sir or Master needed?”

  “I don’t need the honorific for you to know who I am, Darlin’.”

  “I just don’t know if I’m good enough for all of this, Jynx.”

  “You’re good enough, baby,” he contends as I stand up and stare at the man I have fallen so hard for—his chestnut curls, ocean blue eyes, and that smile with those dimples. My eyes skim over his inked arms and damp chest hair to his washboard abs and fl
accid cock sheathed in the foreskin. His legs stretch out, showing off his sinewy thighs and deliciously muscled calves.

  “No, I’m not,” I whisper, fighting his will. “And I never will be.”

  He rises, standing so much taller than me. I glance up as a peasant—a pilgrim—an ignorant disciple, begging him to teach me. Despite my fears, I cannot say the words.

  “It’s me who should be worried, not the other way around. Don’t be scared. Tell me what you want, Abigail. Tell me what you need. Say the words and I will provide.”

  With water splashing over my body, I am baptized in his darkness and claimed by the demons of his unrest.

  “… Will you whip me, Daddy?”

  His lips upturn to a smirk as I blink down and notice the pronounced arousal of his shaft. “It’s about time.” He swiftly latches his arms around me and pushes me into the wall. “Are you a naughty girl?”

  “I’ll be the best slut you ever had, Jynx.”

  “You already are, Mrs. Monroe.” He briefly smirks, offering reassurance that his gentleman is very much present despite the filthy fucking that is about to happen. He gets off on the style of play, and luckily for him—I play broken and insecure with ease. “Your safeword…”

  “It will always be Jeremiah.”

  “Fair enough,” he replies, lifting me onto his shoulder. He swats my ass and grabs a couple of towels. “And your name will forever be bitch.”

  “Because I am Jynx’s hot fiancée?”

  “No, because you’re the bitch that managed to tie me down. It’s never been about disrespect. If anything, as my submissive, it is as much an honorific as the Sir you worry about saying.”

  “And you’ll always be a cocky asshole.”

  “If I’m not, then I’m failing at my only job.”

  He sets my wet ass on the dining room table and covers my body with the towel. “And that is?”

  “You, princess.”

  45

  Goaßlschnalzen

  Echo

  With my hair brushed and pulled in a taut bun, I wait with the harness hanging on my body. I nervously peer up, understanding that not only will I be elevated to a new height, but come face to face with his Dominance. I know that he has been my Dominant, but this is an advanced form of play. The significance leaves me tingly from my toes to the tips of my fingers.