Filthy Series

by Bliss, Chelle

  The warmth of her Louis-coated tongue has my already hard cock straining against my pants for relief. Needing to hold her mouth against mine, I move a hand from her legs, sweeping it up her arm and tangling in her hair. As I fist it in my hands, she moans softly against my lips and melts into me. The harshness of our breaths rings in my ears, louder than the dull thud of the club music upstairs thumping against the ceiling and reverberating down the walls.

  Everything else fades away.

  It’s only her and me, our lips entwined and our pulses racing. I haven’t felt a rush like this since I first got in this business. Maybe it’s the chance that this could cause friction between Hassan and me that makes it so enticing and exciting, but one thing is for sure—Kennedy Preston is bad news.

  11

  Kennedy

  Nix’s mouth is warm, his kiss demanding. He tastes like Cognac and cinnamon, and I can’t seem to get enough. When he moves his knee up to the chair I’m sitting on and slides it between my legs, they part in silent obedience.

  He gives a low hum of amusement. “Can’t get these legs open for me fast enough, can you?”

  “Less talking and more kissing,” I say, taking two fistfuls of his shirt and bringing him closer to me.

  He leans over me, sliding a hand around to grip my ass. I wrap my leg around his waist and he returns his mouth to mine, his kiss making me moan softly. I’m hot, achy, and high on the feeling of letting go of everything but this moment.

  I’m not watching or analyzing. I’m not working Nix so I can get information out of him like I’m supposed to be. Despite the blue wig, it’s Kennedy kissing Nix, not Eva.

  When I tighten my leg around Nix’s waist, he groans and his free hand slides into my hair. He pulls it hard enough to make me gasp. I bite his lower lip to even the score.

  “Fuck,” he says breathlessly. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”

  “So don’t.”

  His eyes darken, and he’s lowering his mouth back to mine when the sound of someone walking into the room makes us unwind ourselves from each other and turn.

  “Nix.” It’s Grayson, the owner of the Loft. His calculating gaze sweeps over us, and it hits me just how fucking stupid I’m being right now.

  Grayson is a tall, broad, biracial man with a permanent scowl. He lacks the smoothness of men like Nix and Hassan, but he doesn’t need it. He commands attention and respect, not just because he’s a powerful man, but also because he’s known for having people who disrespect him killed.

  “What?” Nix’s aggravated tone makes my stomach roll. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that.

  “You’re needed in a suite upstairs. That proposition we discussed?”

  “Can it wait?”

  Grayson’s eyes narrow. “Fuck no, but the pussy can. You in or not?”

  Nix sighs softly. “Yeah. I’m right behind you.”

  Grayson shakes his head and leaves the room. I’m not surprised he didn’t even acknowledge me because that’s his style.

  “Sorry,” Nix says, his eyes locking with mine. “I came here for business tonight, but you distracted me.”

  I arch my brows and give him a look. “I did no such thing.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. That dress?”

  “You didn’t have to look.”

  He leans closer, his breath warm against my lips. “Yeah, I did, and I had to touch, too. And if this meeting wasn’t really important, I would’ve said fuck it.”

  “Better get to it. Grayson’s impatient.”

  “He’s a fucking hothead.” Nix brushes a lock of blue hair away from my face. “Will you be here when I’m done?”

  Though I want to nod eagerly, I shrug. “Maybe.”

  His gaze is so intense it leaves me breathless. “Meet me at the bar upstairs.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He gives me a quick, soft kiss and then leaves. My heart is still pounding hard, and it starts to sink in how careless I was just now. If Grayson hadn’t come in, I would have been fucking Nix at this moment, unaware of everything else around me.

  My plan to come into this night with a renewed focus on my work has been a big fail so far. I take a deep breath and get my bearings, which only seems possible when Nix isn’t within reach.

  This is an opportunity. Grayson is usually watching everyone down here, and I know for sure he’s on the club’s upper level for at least the next few minutes. That means I can possibly access the vault.

  The Loft was built on the site of a former downtown New York bank. It wasn’t just any bank, but one of the largest in the country when it was opened in the 1930s. Jewels, rare art, and other priceless treasures have been stored in the vault, which is only accessible through the basement.

  When Rae briefed me on my assignment at the Loft, she told me no agent has ever made it into the vault. Just getting a look inside, and maybe some photos, would be a great find for Greenlight.

  Lessons from my academy instructors ring in my head as I make my way to the vault. I’m here to be the eyes and ears of the agency, bringing back intelligence information that may not seem valuable on its face. But my fellow agents are doing the same work, and sometimes it takes adding all the pieces of a puzzle together to see the picture clearly.

  The hallway that leads to the vault isn’t being guarded right now. This opening is perfect.

  I walk to the end of the hallway and try the old-fashioned wheel-shaped handle of the vault. It doesn’t open the door, which isn’t surprising. To the right of the door is an electronic keypad. I use the camera built into a bracelet I’m wearing to snap several photos of the keypad, door, and handle.

  Damn. I really wanted to get into the vault, but it’s not happening. At least, not right now.

  I turn and check out the rest of the hallway. There are three other doors, all closed.

  My heels click on the dark concrete floor as I walk toward the first door. I can’t walk softly because I have to look like I belong here. Sneaking around without looking sneaky, if you will.

  That was the hardest thing for me to learn at the academy. It’s hard to project nerves of steel when you could be busted at any moment.

  I grab the handle of the first door and try to turn it, but it won’t budge. It’s the only door on that side of the hallway and there are two on the other side, so this door must lead into a large room.

  My heartbeat is surprisingly regular as I move to the other side of the hall and try a door. It turns, and my pulse kicks up a notch. There could be people in here, and I don’t have a weapon.

  But I don’t have time to second-guess. I step inside the room, which is dark, and flip a switch on the side of the wall. Light fills the room, and I snap photos as I take in my surroundings.

  It seems to be some sort of storage room. There are crates lined up on metal shelves along three walls. A tarp covers something sitting in the middle of the room.

  I go to the tarp first, pulling it aside. There are two wood pallets stacked with bricks of cocaine. The street value of this much coke is staggering.

  Grayson’s got balls, keeping this here instead of at a storage house. The club could get seized if the Feds bust him for this.

  I snap photos and replace the tarp so it looks just like it did when I walked in, then walk over to the crates.

  They’re nailed shut, which is a shitty break. But there’s a crowbar nearby, so I use it to work a corner of one crate up. I’m slow and careful because I can’t risk any damage to the crate.

  It creaks slightly as it starts to rise. When I get the left corner loosened, I move on to the right one. It takes me a good five minutes to get the lid off, and when I do, I see that the wood crate is full of AK-47s.

  I take a photo of the guns and quickly replace the crate’s lid, using the end of the crowbar to hammer the nails back in and then wiping my prints from the crowbar and returning it to its spot.

  I’d like to look inside more crates, but I don’t want to risk it. There co
uld be a guard coming back to the front of the hallway, and I have to get out of here without anyone seeing me leave the room.

  I’ll get my ass chewed on just for walking down this hallway, but as long as no one knows I was in one of the rooms, I’ll be okay.

  I walk over to the door, take a deep breath, and slowly twist the handle. When I ease it open, planning to peek into the hallway before I slide out, my heart doesn’t just pound—it practically stops.

  Grayson is standing there, his eyes narrowed and a vein in his thick neck throbbing.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demands.

  His voice isn’t angry or threatening. Instead, it’s eerily calm, and that scares me more than his usual pissed-off demeanor does.

  I’m fucked. I have no plausible reason for being in here. As I offer my sweetest smile to Grayson, I know there’s no way I’m talking my way out of this.

  He glares at me. “I’m gonna ask you one more time, and then your night’s gonna get a whole lot fucking worse really goddamned fast. What are you doing in here?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but before I get a single word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me back into the room and steps inside, closing the door behind him.

  I’ve been nervous on assignments before, and even jittery at first. But for the first time ever, I’m absolutely terrified.

  12

  Phoenix

  “I need a cleaning ASAP,” Alibi says before I’m fully seated. I haven’t even had a chance to recover from being ripped away from Kennedy at the most inopportune time. The hard-on still aching in my pants doesn’t want to be here, but rather between Kennedy’s legs again.

  “It’ll take a few days,” I tell him as I adjust myself under the table without drawing attention to it.

  “Just do it as quickly as possible.” His eyes shift around the room, and he wipes away a bead of sweat that’s trickling down his cheek.

  I’ve worked with Alibi before. He’s usually cool as a cucumber, but tonight he looks like a mess. He even got the nickname because no matter what type of situation he finds himself in, he always has an alibi. The man has been bulletproof for years. “What’s wrong? You in trouble?”

  “I pissed someone off I shouldn’t.” His fingers drum against the table while his eyes continue to survey our surroundings. “It’s time for me to leave town and disappear for a while.”

  “Rush jobs are twenty percent extra.”

  He finally stills, bringing his dark eyes to mine. “Doesn’t matter. Just do it. Take what you need to make it happen as quickly as possible.”

  I slide out of the booth, preferring to get back to Kennedy as quickly as possible and pick up where we left off. “I’ll be in touch,” I tell him, waiting for a nod.

  Once I have it, I stalk off toward the bar, looking for Kennedy. My stomach sinks when she isn’t there. She wouldn’t leave me like this. Hassan isn’t here, and she looked as needy as I felt when I left her. I take the steps two-by-two, going back to the room where I left her.

  When I open the door, she’s not there either. I glance around the hallway but see no one. She said she may not be here, but she was joking. I know that deep in my bones. My heart starts to pick up, pounding against my insides like a snare drum at a rock concert. Frantically, I search for her, opening doors without knocking and not giving a fuck who or what’s behind them.

  As I pass by the vault, I hear angry screaming. I know the voices well—Grayson and Kennedy are arguing. Kicking open the door without a second thought, I find a tearful Kennedy on the floor with her wig tossed across the room, and he’s hovering over her with his fists balled and ready to strike.

  Motherfucker has a death wish. My eyes lock on Kennedy’s, and I can see her terror. “You lay one hand on her, and I’ll end you, Grayson.” I move my body between Kennedy and Grayson, shielding her from any assault and ready to beat his ass.

  Fuck his club. I don’t need it to conduct business. I could kill him tonight, and no one would miss him.

  Grayson’s eyes narrow as he squeezes his fist tighter, causing his knuckles to turn white. “She’s snooping around where she doesn’t belong. There’s no mercy for liars, Nix.” He tries to sidestep me, but I move with him. “You know that. She’s to be dealt with like every other person who’s done the same shit.”

  There’s no way I’m letting that shit happen. I’d rather end him right here than let that fucking happen. “I told her to meet me here. You’re the one who called me away, and I left her unattended. If anyone is to blame, it’s me, Grayson. So if you’re going to lay your hands on anyone, it’s me. You ready for that?” I return the glare he’s giving me.

  Grayson is an asshole, but he’s not a dumb one. He stares into my eyes, waiting for me to flinch, but I don’t waver. “You’re going to a lot of trouble for a piece of ass. I hope you know what you’re doing. If anything happens, I’m coming for you. You’ll pay the price she should tonight.”

  I step closer, getting in his face, ready to swing and save her from the fate he’s so quick to bestow upon her. “You may own the place, but don’t forget who made you who you are. Don’t threaten the very business you depend on to keep operating.”

  “Whatever.” He steps back and waves his hand in the air. “You deal with the lyin’ trash. If you’re vouching for her…”

  “I’m giving you my word. If that’s not good enough, then let’s end this right here.”

  “Take her and go. If I ever catch her where she shouldn’t be, not even you will be able to save her. Keep your bitches on a short leash from now on, Nix.” I don’t move, holding my ground as a shield for her.

  Once he walks out, I turn quickly and pull her to her feet by her arms. “What the hell were you thinking?” I ask quietly.

  She has mascara streaks on her face. “I had it under control,” she whispers, her eyes narrowing.

  “If your plan was to get the shit kicked out of you tonight, you did.” Using my thumbs, I brush away her tears and some of her makeup. “Can you stand?”

  She holds my gaze defiantly. “Of course I can.”

  I release her from my grip and grab her wig off the floor. “Put this back on,” I tell her, handing it over. “Let’s get out of here. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Oh, I do? To you?”

  “I just saved your ass.”

  “My ass was just fine. You think I’ve never been beaten up before?”

  I recoil at the thought. When she starts to speak again, I cut her off. “Do as I say, Kennedy. No lip. No excuses. No arguments. Put the wig on and follow me.” I take a second to call for Crane to meet us out front. We both need to get out of here before Grayson changes his mind. I hadn’t planned on snapping anyone’s neck tonight. I had hoped to get laid.

  She keeps her eyes on me as she pulls her wig into place, tucking her dark hair underneath. “Nix.”

  “We’ll talk about it when we get back to my place.”

  “Who says I want to go to your place?”

  She exasperates the fuck out of me. Shaking my head, I lift her into my arms and pull her tightly against my body. “Not another word. Don’t fight me.”

  I walk out of the room with Kennedy in my arms, take the stairs to the main level, and stalk toward the front door, ignoring everyone around me. Their eyes are on me, or more likely, on us. They saw Kennedy in here earlier. The outfit and hair unmistakable even crumpled in my arms. Word will be getting back to Hassan, but I’ll deal with him later. Right now, the only thing I need to worry about is getting her out of here and finding out what in the fuck she was doing inside the vault.

  Paul opens the front door as soon as he sees me. “Everything okay, Nix?” His eyes are on Kennedy when he speaks.

  “We’re fine. You know some women.” I laugh and grip her tighter as a warning as I walk toward the waiting car. “Just can’t hold their liquor.”

  “Been there many times myself.” He rushes to the Escalade, opening t
he back door before Crane can even get out. “You have yourself a good night, Mr. Ash.”

  “Thanks, Paul,” I say as I climb in with Kennedy still in my arms. We exchange a curt nod before he closes the door. Even though the windows are blacked out, I whisper in Kennedy’s ear to remain where she is and keep her eyes closed. Her warm lips are touching the skin on my neck. If I weren’t so pissed, I’d lean forward and kiss her.

  After Crane pulls away and is well out of view from the club, he glances in the rearview mirror and asks, “What the fuck happened in there?”

  “You don’t want to know,” I tell him and finally release my death grip on Kennedy’s body. She stares up at me, defiance still darkening her gaze.

  Slowly, she climbs out of my lap into the seat next to me and adjusts her skirt. Crane’s eyes move to her and back to me and narrow, but I shake my head, letting him know that it isn’t the time for questions.

  Not another word is spoken as we make our way through the city. When Crane pulls up to my building and puts the Escalade in park, he turns around to face me. “Want me to take her home?”

  “No.” I glance over at Kennedy, who’s staring out the window and mashing her hands together nervously in her lap. “She and I need to have a little talk. Head home. We’ll be fine.”

  “Whatever you say.” He keeps his eyes on us as I climb out and help Kennedy from the car. “Call if you need me.”

  I wave him off, helping her walk on her heels that weren’t built for the crumbling sidewalks. Before I have a chance to open the building doors, she peers up at me with calculating eyes and asks, “What are you going to do to me?”

  Turning to her, I grab her by the arms and stop her from walking ahead of me. “If I were going to hurt you, I wouldn’t bring you back to my place. I would’ve left you with Grayson for him to deal with and clean up afterward. I’m not in the business of hurting people, especially women.”