by Zoey Parker
I stared up at the ceiling, and realized that despite the wine, I had never felt more awake in my life. My whole body felt hot and tense and jittery. All I could think about was how it felt to be pressed up against Rafe, savoring his scent and tasting his breath on my lips.
In that moment I wanted him, needed him, more than I'd ever needed anyone. I didn't know if it was the wine, and I didn't care. I had to feel Rafe's damp hair between my fingers and stare into his eyes. Without that, I doubted I would ever be able to sleep again.
Slowly, I pulled back the sheets and slipped out of bed, lowering my naked body to the floor next to him. I put my hands on his body, caressing it as I kissed his neck.
“What are you doing?” he whispered. It sounded like he was holding back a moan of pleasure.
“I never thanked you for saving my life,” I said, biting his earlobe gently.
“Sure you did,” he answered. His hands were still at his sides, but I could feel how tense his body was. I could sense the desire there, barely restrained.
“Not properly,” I breathed, my hand sliding down over his abs until it reached his pants. I undid the top button and slid the zipper down, feeling his cock strain against the fabric. I slipped my hand inside and wrapped it around his warm, quivering shaft, squeezing it firmly.
Rafe couldn't hold back any longer. As I stroked him slowly from base to tip, his arms enveloped me and we kissed again. His hand slid over my breast, his thumb rubbing my nipple roughly. I cried out with delight and kept kneading him, feeling him get harder and harder in my palm.
He did let out a moan then—from the back of his throat, ragged and wild. “Oh God, that's it,” he said. “Fuck, just like that. Don't stop.”
His hand moved down urgently, finding the slick lips of my pussy and sliding two fingers inside of me. Our bodies moved together in rhythm as we touched each other, letting out short gasps of pleasure. His cock throbbed in my grasp as his hand moved between my legs, his fingertips pushing against my G-spot insistently.
“Do you like that?” he whispered in my ear.
I nodded, moaning with pleasure.
“Then say it,” he said.
I opened my mouth, my breath coming in sharp gasps.
“Say it or I'll stop,” he hissed.
“Ohhh, God, yes,” I purred. “I love it so much. Please, don't stop.”
His hand slowed, his fingers pausing at my lips, tantalizing me. “Beg me,” he commanded.
No one had ever made me beg before. Still, I didn't even hesitate. “Please,” I moaned, lifting my pelvis toward him desperately. “Please, please, Rafe, don't stop. I need more. Please.”
He made a gruff, satisfied sound and began thrusting his fingers inside me again, harder, deeper.
My heart felt like it was bouncing around in my ribcage like a rubber ball. All of my fear and suspicion had melted away, replaced with a golden glow of lust that filled me right down to the tips of my toes.
I felt his back arch and his warm fluid jetting over my fingers a half-second before my own body was rocked with a sublime explosion, my orgasm causing every inch of me to shudder with passion. The blanket under my body was damp with sweat and my own moisture.
I don't remember how long we held each other on the floor after that, or how I got back into bed.
Chapter 23
Jewel
The infinite darkness of the gun's massive barrel filled my whole world again. The muffled voice was teasing me just behind it.
“Where is it?”
I instinctively knew that my own gun was oceans away, whole continents away, and that even if I could somehow reach across that distance to wrap my hand around it, it would be swallowed up by the maw of the cannon pointed at me.
“Where is it, Jewel?”
I opened my lips as wide as I could to scream for Rafe and in that moment, every corner of my mouth was filled with oily black metal. I saw Jester's leering mask and heard his breath rasping behind the painted red porcelain smile. I suddenly knew the last breath I'd ever inhale would smell like urine and taste like charcoal.
“Where is it?” the voice droned, and before I could even think of an answer, a finger squeezed the trigger and my mouth was filled with fiery sulfur, and in the flash of gunfire I saw a gleam sparkle from the golden hand holding the gun...
No.
Not a golden hand.
And not a golden gun in the hand.
A gold ring on the hand. On the finger next to the trigger finger. The right middle finger.
I woke up from the nightmare and sat up in bed, my mind racing. On the floor next to the bed, Rafe sat up too. “You all right?” he mumbled sleepily. “Bad dream?”
It took a moment for his words to travel from my ears to my brain. I was staring into the dark corner of the motel room, rummaging through my memories. Had it just been a dream? Had I made up the gold ring?
No. Definitely not. I'd been panicked when I saw the shooting in the alley and my brain had quickly gathered a lot of detailed input and stuffed it into its pocket, to be sorted through later. But now that I'd had a couple of days to subconsciously digest the data overload, I'd managed to remember something.
“Jewel?” Rafe said. He had gotten up and he was shaking my shoulder gently. His voice sounded worried. “You're not gonna freak out on me again, are you?”
“No, nothing like that,” I answered. “I'm okay. But I remembered something. It's probably nothing that can help you, but...”
Rafe sat on the bed in front of me, leaning in eagerly. “No, hey, whatever it is, let's hear it.”
I had a flash of memory from our drunken night of pawing each other, and I knew that I should feel strange about that, or get a flush of pleasure from how close he was to my naked body now. But my mind was too busy squeezing itself for answers.
“The killer in the alley,” I began. “Angelo. He didn't have a gold gun. That's not what the muzzle flash was reflecting. It was a ring. A gold ring. On his middle finger.”
Rafe frowned. “Huh. How sure are you?”
“Positive,” I said, pulling the covers up around me and shivering. The room wasn't that cold, but letting myself remember the killing in so much detail was making me feel chilly and exposed. “Is that something you can use?”
“I don't know,” Rafe answered. “If nothing else, it explains the whole 'gold gun' thing, since that didn't make a lot of sense. I don't remember Angelo wearing a gold ring, but I guess he could have gotten one at some point over the past seven years, while I was...away. Still, though...” He trailed off, thinking.
“So now what?” I asked.
“Remember when I said I've got other Reapers making moves for me on this?” Rafe replied, getting up. “I've got a couple of calls to make, to see if any of this makes sense. Stay put. I'll come back with some breakfast. You drink coffee, right?”
As he talked, Rafe gathered his wallet, Swiss Army knife, burner phone, and handgun from the top of the dresser next to the door. The way he was grimly putting his things in his pockets and tucking the pistol into the back of his pants—it looked like he was preparing to go to war.
“Uh, yeah,” I answered, rubbing my temples. I remembered how many cups of cheap wine I'd had last night and realized I had never been this morbidly hung over before. The sunlight was like spikes being shoved into my eyes, and my limbs felt boneless. Coffee sounded perfect. “Lots of milk, lots of sugar.”
“Cool,” he said. “I'll be right back.”
Rafe put his hand on the door handle, then stopped and turned back to look at me. His expression was hard to read.
“Listen, about last night...” he started.
“We don't have to figure that out right now,” I said. “We were both pretty drunk, and it's been a very weird couple of days, at least for me. Just go make your calls so we know what our next move is, and we can go from there, okay?”
Rafe thought about it for a moment. “As long as you're not feeling, y'know...”
> I forced a smile. “I'm fine. Go.”
Rafe returned my smile and nodded. “Okay, then,” he said, stepping out the door and making sure it shut behind him.
I got up and put my clothes on, thinking. What had he been about to ask before I cut him off? “As long as you're not feeling like you're getting serious about me because of last night?” “As long as you're not feeling like last night was a huge mistake?”
What if both were true?
Chapter 24
Rafe
As I walked down the steps from our second-floor motel room and dialed the number for the Devil's Nest, I thought about what I'd been about to say to Jewel.
The truth was, I had no fucking idea. Of course last night had been sexy as hell, but it could also complicate things, which was the last thing either of us needed while we were trying to make it through this mess with Jester in one piece.
I'd originally figured the more wine she drank, the more relaxed she'd be and the more sleep she could get. Had part of me hoped she'd get drunk enough to make a move on me, though? I didn't want to believe that about myself, but it was hard to ignore the thought.
When she got on the floor naked next to me, I knew I should have stopped her. But after seven years in Potawatomi, a stiff breeze was enough to give me a hard-on, and the fact was that I just didn't have the willpower to stop her when she'd seemed to want it so badly. I'd even wanted to take it further, but after she'd finished massaging my cock, the inevitable post-climax moment of clarity made me see what a mistake it would have been.
And now what? She talked a good game about being cool with it, but would she expect something from me now? Did she want this thing between us to be more than it was now?
For that matter, did I?
I put the phone to my ear, listening to it ring on the other end. Boomer picked up. “Devil's Nest. An' Sperm, if you're doing another one of your stupid prank calls, the refrigerator won't be the only thing running...”
“It's Rafe,” I chuckled, fishing a cigarette out of the pack and lighting it. “But hey, since I got you on the line, do you have Prince Albert in a can?”
“Ha ha fuckin' ha,” Boomer said. “That would be funny if the dickhead hadn't actually tried it two hours ago, as though he fuckin' just thought it up himself or somethin'. I swear, he must be gettin' these things from a book he found in a public toilet. Anyway. How're you holding up out there?”
I caught a glimpse of myself in a car windshield, with the blonde hair and the outfit. “I've changed more in the past two days than I did in seven fucking years in the slammer,” I said, taking a long drag from my cig.
“Well, as long as your cock's still the same length, I guess,” Boomer quipped. “If you're callin' about Rosie, we went up an' grabbed her yesterday, no problem there.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I wasn't, but that's good to know.”
“So what can I do for you?” Boomer asked. “Are you close to squaring this thing so you can come back an' collect yer patch?”
“I'm not actually sure,” I said. “Seems like every step I take forward, I get knocked a couple steps back. There was something else I wanted to ask you about Angelo, though.”
“About that weird gold gun thing?” Boomer replied. “'Cause I gotta tell you, the more I've been thinking about that, the less sense it makes...”
“Yeah, well, I just got some new info on that,” I said. “What if I said instead of carrying a gold gun, Angelo was wearing some kind of gold ring? Would that ring a bell?”
“I dunno,” Boomer answered. “That makes about as much sense as the gun thing, to be honest. I mean, it's not like any of us have spent time around Angelo recently, not since the thing between you an' Jester. But still, walkin' around wearin' gold jewelry an' shit? That would have been too gaudy for a guy like Angelo, so...” He trailed off for a moment.
“Boomer?” I asked, flicking my ash away. “You still there?”
“What finger would this ring have been on?” Boomer asked. “Do you know?”
“Yeah, uhh...” I hesitated, trying to remember. “The right middle finger. Why?”
“Fuck,” Boomer said. It sounded like all the breath had been knocked out of his body.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you know if the ring had anything engraved on it?” Boomer said.
“I don't know,” I answered. “It might have, but the person I got this info from wasn't close enough to see it that clearly. I mean, she only just remembered it was a gold ring instead of the whole gun. What aren't you telling me, Boomer?”
Boomer took a deep breath. “It's mostly a rumor,” he began. “Somethin' that popped up about a year or two ago. People started talking about some kind of secret society that was forming within the crime families in Chicago. They called it The Family of Thorns. Real old-world Sicilian shit, like some kind of mafia-within-the-mafia.
“Membership was kept under wraps for the most part, since their loyalty to each other outranked their loyalty to their individual organizations. They'd do deals with each other under the table, even if the rest of their gangs were on the outs with each other. Which would be enough to get 'em in deep shit if the gangs they were pledged to found out.
“But whenever one of them gets inducted into the Thorns, they get a gold ring with the Sicilian flag symbol on it—a Medusa head with three bent legs around it in a circle, and three stalks of wheat or some shit. They're supposed to wear it on their right middle fingers. Most of 'em keep the rings turned around so the symbol's on the inside, to keep a low profile.”
Well, that certainly didn't sound like good news. “So if a guy like Angelo were to suddenly start walking around with a gold ring...”
“Yeah,” Boomer said. “That'd mean he's one of them. Which means Jester probably is, too, if Angelo's still his right-hand guy.”
“So what else is known about these Thorn guys?” I asked hopefully. “Is there any way to find out how many there are, or where they hang out?”
Boomer sounded uncertain. “There is, maybe, but...”
“Come on. What is it?” I asked. “Anything could help. I'm gettin' desperate, here.”
“Bard's on pretty friendly terms with Hollis Grady, the Chicago Police Superintendent. They've got some history together, and...”
“Wait, what the fuck do you mean Bard's 'on friendly terms' with the city's top fucking cop?” I asked. Bard may have had a whole bookish, meek-and-mild routine in place to catch people off guard, but he was the most badass outlaw I'd ever known. The idea that he could be ratting to the cops on the reg and that Boomer didn't seem to have a problem with it...
“Chill out, man,” Boomer continued. “We all thought it was pretty weird too when we found out, but it turns out they were in the war together or somethin' an' they don't usually discuss business with each other. Grady pulled our asses out of the fire a little during that thing with the Bonaccorsos. He seems like kind of a decent guy. Y'know, for being one of the pigs, I mean.”
I took a deep breath. That was a lot to process, and I just didn't have the time. “So you think he'd be able to help?”
“It's a slim chance, but maybe,” Boomer said. “He'd have access to the CPD's files, and probably any intelligence the FBI has picked up on them. But like I said, Bard's the one who's got a relationship with him, an' Bard doesn't know I've been helping you out. If I ask him to reach out on this, there's no reason to believe he'll say yes.”
“I get that, totally,” I said, finishing my cigarette and tossing it. “But Boomer, if there's anything at all you could do for me here...”
Boomer sighed. “I know, I know. I'll do what I can. Okay?”
“That's all I ask,” I replied. My phone started beeping at me, and it took me a second to realize it was the call waiting. And since the only other person who had this number was Snoops...
“I gotta go,” I said. “Thanks again, man.” I switched the call over and put the phone to my ear again. “Snoops?”
/> On the other end, it sounded like a war zone. There were distant gunshots, and I could hear people yelling. “Rafe, it's me,” Snoops said. His voice sounded faint. “Two guys on bikes just came to The Flytrap, tossed a grenade through the window, an' then lit the whole fuckin' place up with Uzis. They killed half the people inside, went in to get somethin', and then hopped back on their rides an' zoomed out. We tried to stop 'em, but...aw, hell, they killed Marley an' I got shot in the belly...”
Fuck, I thought. So much for grabbing breakfast. I turned around and started running back to the motel room. “Did you see which way they were going?” I asked. “What highway they were heading for?”