The Vault Collection [Volume One]

by A. D. Justice

  “My turn to take care of you.”

  I took his cock in my hand and began stroking him from base to tip. He grew harder and harder with each pass. My tongue circled around the head, skimming along the ridge before flattening across the top. He placed his hands on the sides of my head, and his fingers curled into fists and pulled my hair with them. When I took him deep into my mouth without warning, the low timbre of his growl rumbled through his chest. His hands gripped tighter in my hair, and his hips began to surge faintly.

  My hand squeezed his girth, gliding up and down his cock in tandem with my mouth. The speed of his hips increased and perfectly matched my ministrations. He released a loud groan and held my head still in his grip.

  “Are you sure?”

  I smiled around his cock and continued toward my goal. He dropped his head back and every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation. “Fuck, Jillian.” He moaned as he succumbed to his release, the hot, salty essence hitting the back of my throat in short bursts. With a quick glance up at his intense gaze with his cock still in my mouth, I swallowed every drop of him.

  The next second, I found myself flat on my back with his face buried between my legs.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve tasted this sweet pussy. It’s time for me to feast on you.”

  And he did. The room spun. I couldn’t breathe between screams. My fingers gripped and pulled his hair. I begged him to stop when the intensity was too much…but he didn’t. The more times I came, the more he was challenged to make another orgasm tear through me. It was the best torture I’d ever experienced.

  When he moved to lie beside me on the bed, I straddled his lap and guided his cock to my wet entrance. His hands held my hips as I lowered myself onto him, taking him inside me to the hilt. I rolled my hips, gliding back and forth then up and down, riding him straight into another earth-shattering orgasm. He followed quickly behind me before I collapsed, resting my head on the uninjured side of his chest.

  “You’ve earned a good meal and a nap. Then I expect to have round two later tonight,” he murmured against my head.

  “You’re determined to kill me, I’m sure of it,” I teased. “Do you have any groceries in the house? I’ll cook something so you don’t have to go back out.”

  “Mama cooked for us. Everything we could possibly want to eat is waiting in the refrigerator. Joe brought it all over first thing this morning.”

  “I love your mom so much right now.”

  We both rolled out of bed gingerly, but for very different reasons. He pulled on his lounge pants and tossed me one of his T-shirts to wear. After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, I told him to relax on the couch while I scoped out the dinner situation. He was exactly right—his mother had more than taken care of the food situation for the next few days. After making two heaping plates to replenish our energy, I joined him on the couch, and we ate in front of the TV like a couple who’d been together forever.

  With my stomach stuffed and my heart full, I turned to face him and break the news. “Damon, there are a couple of important things I’ve been trying to tell you about, but we keep getting interrupted. The Saturday you were working, I stayed at my apartment and worked on my assigned account. It’s been a mess from the start, and I fell into a rabbit hole trying to figure out what happened with the accounting.”

  He leaned back against the opposite armrest, listening intently to my every word. “Interesting. Go on.”

  My chin dropped to my chest, and my shoulders sagged when my phone pinged with the chime assigned to my mom’s sitter. She would often text me if she had a question about Mom’s care. “This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. I’m sorry, Damon. Let me check that. It’s about my mom.”

  “No problem, doll.” Then his phone pinged with a text, and one side of his mouth curled up. “Guess we’re popular, huh?”

  He grabbed his phone out of his pants pocket while I dug in my purse for mine. “Doll, I have to call my dad. Go ahead and call your mom, then we’ll finish that conversation. Sound good?”

  “Perfect. I won’t be long.”

  With my phone finally in hand, I unlocked it and opened the text.

  And nearly dropped my phone.

  It sounds like you’re about to tell Damon everything and test me. I wouldn’t advise it.

  The picture that arrived next was another picture of my mom, in a different outfit…inside her house.

  You won’t win this game, sweetheart. Finish your job tonight or mommy dies.

  My whole body shook, and I couldn’t breathe. How did Lorenzo know about my conversation with Damon? Why did his text have the same tone I assigned Mom’s sitter? Did he have someone there with my mom right then?

  With shaking hands, I dialed Mom’s number. Margie, her sitter, answered, and I finally let out a relieved breath. “Hello?”

  “Margie, this is Jillian. Can I speak with Mom?”

  “She’s already asleep, Jillian. She’s had a rough day today.”

  “What happened?”

  “Oh, you know how she is. She tried to get up by herself and took a tumble. She’s fine, but waiting in the doctor’s office to make sure she didn’t break anything wore her out.”

  “You or her nurse should’ve called me, Margie. Are you sure she’s okay?”

  “That’s why I didn’t call you. So you wouldn’t worry when you’re so far away.”

  I hung up with the promise of calling back early the next morning to talk to Mom and thanked Margie for taking such good care of her. Knowing I wasn’t there when Mom fell made me feel even more guilty for leaving her. But after confirming she was okay, a much more terrible reality held my undivided attention.

  I had to choose yet again between saving my mom by killing Damon…or telling Damon and killing my mom. I was right back where I started, only I’d learned Lorenzo was somehow listening to my conversations.

  I wasn’t a murderer. I wasn’t a violent person.

  What was I supposed to do?

  “Is something wrong, doll?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when Damon jarred me from my thoughts. When I looked at him, all I could see was myself standing over the lifeless body of the man I loved. Killed by my hand. The next flash was one of my mother, brutally murdered by strangers. The woman who raised me. Who sacrificed what she wanted so I could have what I wanted. Who trusted me to care for her in her twilight years.

  “Jillian?”

  “She fell today. Margie had to take her to the doctor to make sure nothing was broken. She’s asleep, so I couldn’t talk to her myself.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I know how much you love her.”

  “Do you think she knows?”

  “Knows what, doll?”

  “How much I love her.” My chin quivered, and I held my breath to fight back the tears gathering in my eyes.

  “I absolutely think she knows.”

  “I hope you’re right. Guilt eats me alive sometimes.” I stared at the floor, unable to look at him any longer.

  “Are you ready to finish that conversation we were having?”

  “Maybe later. The last thing I want to think about right now is work.”

  “I understand. How about that nap, then? We’ve had a long day.”

  “We have indeed. A nap sounds like a plan to me.”

  “I’m going to jump in the shower to wash the hospital off me then I’ll join you in the bed.”

  He kissed me sweetly before walking off to his enormous bathroom. When I heard the water running, I grabbed the large kitchen knife off the magnetic strip and robotically moved to his bedroom. With the knife hidden under my pillow, I pulled his T-shirt over my head, laid it on the chair close to the bed, and slid between the silk sheets.

  And waited.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jillian

  Seconds after the water turned off, Damon slid into bed behind me. His arm snaked over my waist and pulled me closer to him. I wanted to melt into hi
m. I wanted to turn and wrap my arms around him. I wanted to tell him everything—in a whisper if I had to—but I just wanted him to know what I was facing so he could help me out of it.

  But I couldn’t take that chance.

  I didn’t know where Lorenzo had ears. Did he listen to us when we made love earlier? My heart broke at the thought. I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly in anguish from the flood of memories flying through my mind. I didn’t know how long I remained motionless, dying inside with each breath. Damon’s evenly paced breaths and completely relaxed body drew my attention.

  He was sound asleep. He was no doubt worn out from our earlier activities so soon after his hospital discharge. I was worn out from worry and stress and torment and sorrow. With no other choice and no time left, I carefully slid out of bed and took the knife under the pillow with me.

  I crept around the bed to Damon’s side.

  Standing there not breathing, taking in his form and memorizing every detail about him, I raised my hand with the knife. And something in my mind snapped.

  Damon

  The bed moved ever so slightly, but I knew what the play was. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing slow, and my ears tuned to Jillian’s every move. She thought I was asleep, and she wanted to take full advantage of my incapacitation. She was careful, but I heard her every step as she moved around to my side of the bed.

  And stopped.

  I could hear her breathing—fast and shallow. Then she sniffled, and my heart broke along with the trust I’d instilled in her. Without opening my eyes or turning my head, I felt her move closer to me…hovering directly over me.

  The blade of her knife hadn’t yet touched my skin, but her intentions were clear. She planned to give me the Columbian necktie Lorenzo had demanded.

  “Do it. Then go ahead and cut my heart out while you’re at it.”

  She gasped loudly then a sob broke free. I grabbed her wrist and yanked her arm, pulling her over me and down onto the bed. With her small frame, she was as light as a feather. In seconds, she was underneath me, and the knife was safely secured in her hand pinned above her head.

  “Slitting a man’s throat isn’t like what you see on TV, doll. It’s not a simple slice then you’re done. Killing a man like that takes a lot of practice to hone your skill. It takes a lot more pressure than you realize. You have to cut deep to get to the arteries. You need strength to hold him down because he’ll fight like a wild animal when it’s injured and cornered.

  “You think it’s just a slow trickle of blood, don’t you? It’s not. Arterial blood sprays everywhere…every time the heart pumps while he lies there, gargling, dying slowly while you watch. It’s a very personal way of killing someone, because you have to be close to him. Maybe he lets you in because he trusts you. Maybe he doesn’t believe you pose a threat. But once you’ve started, you have to stay close and make sure he dies.

  “I think you’ve watched way too much TV, doll. There are a thousand and one ways you could’ve killed me and walked away without leaving a trace. Cutting my throat in my sleep isn’t one of them. Only a skilled hitman can pull off that kind of hit—no one else who has a clue of what they’re doing would even attempt it. Because they know they’d be the one who ended up dead.”

  I easily plucked the knife from her fingers and held it at her throat. Her eyes watered and her breathing halted. The fear in her eyes was real, but that wasn’t the most prevalent feeling I read in them. Her heart was broken because she had betrayed me.

  But I couldn’t focus on how she felt. All I could think about was her betrayal and how she’d plotted to murder me in my sleep.

  “Now, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. That skilled hitman I just described? I train them—teach them everything they know. The first time I even suspect you’re lying, you’ll find out exactly how ruthless I really am. Consider this your mercy warning. No one else has ever gotten one from me.”

  “I’ll tell you everything. Anything. I promise, Damon. I wasn’t going to go through with it. There’s no way I could’ve hurt you.”

  “And yet, I opened my eyes to find you standing over me with a knife close to my throat. Was that your first lie?”

  She shook her head briskly. “I’m not lying. I was trying to picture it and knew I couldn’t go through with it. I was trying to figure out how to get out of this mess I’m in.”

  I knew killers—and she wasn’t one. “I guess you’d better start from the beginning and tell me everything, then. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Panic covered her face, and her eyes darted around the room. “Maybe we should go somewhere else and leave our cell phones here. In case someone is listening,” she whispered.

  “No one is listening, Jillian. That last text wasn’t from Lorenzo.”

  Confusion turned to understanding as her reeling mind absorbed my words. I already knew more than I’d let on. She’d been tested and failed.

  She described how she had to dig through financial documents to resolve an accounting discrepancy for her assigned account. In that analysis, she stumbled across evidence of an inside embezzlement job. She didn’t recognize the names she gave me, but I did. One name belonged to one of my family’s businesses. Money was being funneled from a Marchetti business, through Blaine Financial, and into a shell company set up by the Sanfratello family. The only name she recognized was the man who’d set up the scheme. The man whose vacancy she’d filled.

  The man who’d betrayed me and I’d put a bullet in his brain the day I met her. Milo Bianchi.

  The second name was an alias I knew Lorenzo used sometimes, but I didn’t confirm that to her. She already knew he was involved somehow, but she didn’t know to what extent. She continued spilling every detail of what she’d found, how she found it, and how she saved it all on a flash drive.

  “Then Lorenzo showed up at my apartment and admitted his men shot you. They were trying to kill both of us. Since he couldn’t make another attempt on you without starting a family war, he put it on me to finish. He said either I do it, or he will kill my mother.”

  I rolled off of her and sat up on the edge of the bed. With an aggravated huff, I ran my hand through my hair.

  “I’ve tried to tell you several times over the last couple of days, but I never could finish. Then I was telling you tonight when I got that text. I thought he was listening somehow and knew what I’d planned. I wanted to tell you so you could help me figure out how to stop him.”

  I stood and paced back and forth, warring with my wounded pride and my feelings for the attempted-murderess in my bed.

  And with the knowledge I already held.

  “Jillian, are you really that naïve?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lorenzo specifically told you to slit my throat while I slept. He knew you weren’t capable of doing that. He could’ve told you to poison me, shoot me, or even stab me in the heart. But slit my throat? Come on. He was setting you up to fail.”

  “But why? I don’t understand. How was I supposed to know that? I’ve never killed anyone. I have no idea where to even start.” Her voice climbed a few octaves as the panic rose in her throat.

  I turned to face her, contemplating the words I’d say next. “You really have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you? I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, Jillian. I really am.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. She knew what I had to tell her.

  “Your mother is already gone. Lorenzo’s men killed her before my men could get to Louisiana. I’m truly very sorry.”

  Tears poured from her eyes, but she didn’t respond. Both hands covered her mouth, and her eyes were fixed on mine. I didn’t think she was even breathing at that moment. Shock and agony were vying for first place in her heart.

  “When?” she asked meekly.

  “They believe it happened yesterday.”

  “But I talked to her sitter tonight. She said Mom fell today and was asleep.”

  “Lorenzo�
��s men have her. They knew you’d call. My men are looking for them now.”

  Heart-wrenching sobs racked her body as she came to grips with what had happened. Her wails carried through my condo, echoing off the walls and ricocheting back to us. My arms ached to hold and comfort her. My mind fought against the urge, reminding my stupid heart she wasn’t trustworthy. If nothing else was real, her distress at that moment was definitely genuine.

  After several long minutes, she rose from the bed and pulled my T-shirt over her naked body. Seeing her in my shirt stirred an unexpected possessive instinct I had to fight to tamp down. She stood facing me, but her eyes were fixed on the floor at my feet.

  “What do you plan to do with me?”

  Her tone was dull…flat…lifeless.

  “I’m not going to do anything to you. I’m sure you know this, but I think you should return to Louisiana, pay your final respects, and don’t come back here.”

  “Did you know she was dead before we left the hospital?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “But you didn’t tell me until now?”

  “I had to know what your choice would be. I had to know if I could trust you.”

  “I wonder, Damon…if the tables had been turned, and you had to choose between Lina and me…which one of us would you have chosen?”

  With that verbal slap across my face, she walked out of my bedroom and left me standing in a mass of confusion. What would I have done if I’d been in her position?

  A couple of minutes passed before I heard the door shut and the ding of the elevator. I walked into the living room and found my T-shirt laid neatly across the back of the couch. Her clothes, shoes, and purse were gone.

  Jillian was gone.

  My men would be there to watch over her in Louisiana until this war with the Sanfratello family was finished. They’d make sure nothing happened to her in the meantime.