by Nora Flite
No. I could never have suffered enough to deserve this. No one could have.
“Costello,” she moaned, spreading herself and sliding me inside. My heels dug into the dirt, I braced myself and pushed along her tight walls. All the noise in the world vanished as I lived through the luxuriating pace of her descending my shaft.
Finally she sat on me, our bodies linked together. My cock pulsed; her sweet pussy hugged me back after every beat. There was no cold here. There was only us.
“You’re amazing,” I whispered, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I kissed behind her ear, along her temple, and back to her mouth for more of her agile tongue. Squeezing my thighs, I thrust upward, daring her to think she was in control just because she was on top.
She bounced her ass on me, hungrily searching for more and more of my thickness inside her. The fair was loud, but there was a chance we were louder. “That feels so good,” she said, holding on to me as she ground her hips hard.
“Fuck,” I growled. “Fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I’m coming. I’m—ah!” My words faded into a gritty snarl. All the muscles in my throat stretched taut, my head falling back as I reached upward forever and ever, trying to bury myself deeper in Scotch in a way that wasn’t physically possible. My orgasm shook us both, and she shuddered, biting my shoulder as she came as well.
I was nowhere near finished. Kneading the globes of her ass, I pumped a few more times, testing her sensitivity as I built myself back into a stiffer hard-on than I’d started with.
Scotch put her forehead on mine. “Wait,” she gasped.
“No. Not even for a second.”
Her smile was coy. “We should go somewhere warmer. Drier,” she added with emphasis. “I think my toes are numb. I don’t want us getting frostbite or pneumonia or something.”
She was right; getting pneumonia wasn’t a great idea. I flicked my eyes up. “There’s a hotel not far. We’ll change and head there.”
We redressed on the sandy patch of grass. Parts of my outfit were damper than others, having sat on old, stubborn ice. As I pulled her to her feet, she tensed in my grip. “Oh,” she sighed, staring just beyond my shoulder. Twisting sharply, I spotted the wet, mud-stained lump where it floated lazily in the river. It could have been any regular garbage—there was plenty of that in the water.
The rabbit. The prize I’d won for her.
In my rush I’d discarded it. I hadn’t cared then because I’d been swept up in her warm lips. But there was no denying the disappointment in her eyes as she stared after the ruined toy. A cold pit grew in my guts. “I’ll win you another one,” I said.
“No,” she laughed. “It’s okay.” Clinging to my hand, she pulled me up the slope and back toward the city lights. There were hotels nearby, soft beds and safer places to roll our bodies together. “Besides, when would we find the time? We need to keep moving. You know that.”
I did know that. I’d just . . . forgotten. No, I realized with a start. That’s not it. I didn’t just forget anything. I wasn’t the type. What was going on here was something much more distressing.
These days with Scotch had been like nothing else. Fun, exciting, addicting. We were supposed to be solving a problem, but all I wanted to do . . . was stay like this. Stay with her.
Forever.
Cool wind tugged at my jacket collar; I fixed it with one hand, refusing to let her go with the other. Scotch was looking forward, moving with such confidence. She wanted to get us alone. Everything in her body language was so damn honest.
She was beautiful, inside and out.
My heart was a rotted core.
I’d been telling myself every day, from the moment I awoke, that what we had could never be. This was temporary. The second everything was fixed—and it would be—Scotch and I had to part ways.
But just . . .
Just for a little while longer, I wanted to pretend I was more than a twisted-up son of a powerful family. With her . . . I can almost pretend I’m a hero. The wind cut at me once more. Shivering, I smoothed my hair, and in doing so felt compelled to look back at where we’d come from. All the water had transformed in the shadows of the bridge. It looked like black tar, shiny and deadly.
The rabbit looked back at me with plastic eyes.
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN -
SCOTCH
My pillow was vibrating.
“Mn,” I said, which wasn’t much as far as words go. But I was plain exhausted, luxuriating in the aftermath of a long night of body-tingling sex. The fair had been days ago, and it had been a cork that had burst free, allowing Costello to stop smothering his urge for me.
Every night we lay together in bliss.
Sometimes entire days, too.
Costello went out of his way to rent us luxurious hotel rooms. But I didn’t care about that; I’d have stayed in a filthy motel with him, if he’d wanted. He was just so focused on making sure I was comfortable. So I buried myself and all my thoughts about danger under thick blankets. He made it so damn easy.
The buzzing came again. That time it didn’t last. “Hello?” Costello whispered next to me. He’d answered his phone. Under me the bed shifted; Costello sat up so sharply the blanket fell off us both. “What do you mean, you found her?”
I tuned in, wondering what was going on.
The man beside me was quiet. Then he breathed a single name. “Gina?”
Coming fully awake, I twisted to watch him with fearful eyes. The window was mostly open, sunlight streaming in so we could see the worry in each other’s faces. I started to move my mouth to ask what was happening; his finger to his lips shushed me.
“Okay,” he said, all calm and cool. “I’ll drive back right now. See you soon.”
His thumb ended the call. I grabbed his upper arm. “What’s wrong with Gina?”
Costello moved with purpose, his lean body climbing naked from the bed to dress in clean clothes. He spoke as if he were reading the back of a box of cereal to me. “That was my father. Apparently Darien has been furious that no one can find you, and that the Dirty Dolls has no record of your real name or address. He’s smart enough to know you were friends with Gina, so he went looking for her.”
I clutched my chest, expecting to feel my heart pushing against my skin. “So what?” I demanded, bordering on delirium. “She’s in hiding, no one knows where she is!”
Finally he looked at me. The blue in his eyes chilled me to the bone. “The doctor at the Bucket knew. She must have told him her plans before we got in touch with her, maybe even while she was hopped up on painkillers. Darien interrogated everyone in that hospital until he found a trail, he’s that fucking determined, he . . .”
I’d stopped listening. I was too busy trying not to throw up.
They’re going to find her. They’ll hurt her. And all because of me.
“Scotch?” Blinking, I focused on him. Costello was bending over me, his hands pressing into the tops of my thighs. “You need to call her. She has to move, before they close in on her.”
Fumbling for my clothes on the floor, I dug out my phone. I was already dialing before I knew what to say. “Gina?” I gasped, the second she picked up.
“Scotch!” she laughed in my ear, so bubbly and unaware of what was coming for her. “Are you still in Vermont? I was just thinking—”
“Gina, you need to run!”
“What?”
Costello pulled up next to me and spoke into the phone. “Gina, this is Costello. Listen to me closely. Darien is coming for you, and if you don’t leave now, there’s a real chance your life is in danger.”
I hated how quiet she went. It kept making me think about never hearing her voice again.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she whispered.
I had an idea, but Costello spoke up first. “I own a condo in Providence,” he said, and he gave her the address. “Even if people follow you, you should be able to get inside and be safe. The door code is five four six four.”
He
owned a condo? I shouldn’t have been too surprised, but it felt funny that Gina would see it before I did. “Gina, listen to him and go,” I said. “These guys looking for us are no joke. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, go now!”
“Okay!” she hissed, then, “I love you, Heather.” The call ended.
Ugh, my stomach was doing knots. Pushing forward, I shoved my legs into my jeans, nearly falling over in my rush. “We’re going to meet her there, right? You’re not going to try and pull some stupid stunt and leave me behind. I won’t let you. Gina’s my friend and she’s in trouble because of me and—”
He covered my mouth with his, softly and sadly. “I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, Scotch. Not even for a second.”
Clutching my sweater to my naked chest, I just stared at him.
Costello released me. “Hurry, we have a long drive.”
Shaking away the emotions smothering my senses, I finished dressing. I would have run out of the hotel at full speed if he hadn’t told me to walk to draw less attention. The only thing that soothed me was how, once we were in the car, Costello made no effort to pretend to follow the speed limits.
Coming off the highway and into the city awoke a sense of dread in me. One deeper and meatier than what I’d been fighting with before. Hiding out in Vermont with Costello had been so . . . easy. Wonderful. I hadn’t wanted it to end.
Did he?
It was already dark out. All around us, the tall buildings glowed with life. I clung to that imagery, telling myself Gina would be inside that condo, that she’d be fine. But she hadn’t answered any of my phone calls or texts. Ever since she started running, she’d been silent.
“Here,” Costello said, parking on the street. The building was tall and made of black stone, covered in tons of Christmas lights that screamed, Happy holidays! It was so gaudy that it was the antithesis of the man beside me.
“Who lives here besides you?” I asked, stepping out into the night.
He shut the driver’s side door softly. “Just me.”
“Just you? But it’s got to be twelve floors high!”
Squinting up at the glistening windows, he nodded. “I own it all and I never rent it out. It’s useful for . . .” He didn’t finish, tucking his chin into his jacket collar and crossing the quiet street. “Come on.”
He didn’t need to finish his sentence. I’d realized exactly what an entire empty building could be used for. If you needed a private meeting, you were guaranteed no one would hear you through the walls here. And if you needed to threaten someone . . . or hurt them . . .
Shivering, I followed him up the steep steps that crested before the condo’s overhang. It had a clean edge, very modern looking for a city that loved to hang on to its old buildings. We were blocked on one side by a large bank, and on the other was a parking structure.
Both were silent. I realized the bank was closed, and the lot was blocked off. We were in the city, but it felt like we were on the moon.
Costello’s finger flew over the keypad by the glass doors. I watched the numbers blink green, paying close attention to the code he typed. I’d heard him say it to Gina, but it wasn’t until I saw it in motion that I realized what 5464 spelled:
K-I-N-G.
The doors opened and he entered first, the elevator his goal. Inside, the place was disquieting in its emptiness. Did Costello have staff? A doorman? Like he’d read my mind, he said inside the elevator, “I don’t keep anyone around after five, unless I really need them.”
That explained the echoing silence . . . so why didn’t it make me feel better?
The elevator was curved, with glass on the outside. I watched the city fading away below us as we rose, my stomach dropping with it. Costello’s family was rolling in money—I’d always known that. But being exposed to it like this was otherworldly. My mind focused back on Gina. Call her again. The elevator was a private one that opened straight into the penthouse. I hadn’t realized, and I had the phone to my ear as the doors split apart to reveal the inside of the huge room.
I thought, Wow. And then I thought, Why can I hear Gina’s phone ringing in my ear, and in here, but she isn’t answering?
“Scotch!” Costello hissed by my temple. It was my only warning before hands grabbed me, ripping me from the elevator.
Screaming as loud as I could, I dropped the phone in the elevator and tried to grab at the person holding me. Their hands were thick and firm, but they yelped like a tiny puppy when I jammed my heel into the inside of their knee. “Fucking bitch!” the stranger grunted, releasing me.
Spinning to survey the room, I saw Costello’s main floor was all hardwood and white rugs under squared couches by the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a giant granite island and a kitchen that would make most chefs jealous. No lights were on, but the city was glinting for the holidays, illuminating the men with their guns aimed at me . . . and aimed at Costello in the elevator. “Don’t move!” someone shouted. I looked away from Costello long enough to see the speaker had a red Mohawk—and a gold ring with a bullet casing.
The Deep Shots.
“Scotch, get down!” Costello growled. I did as he asked, dropping hard on my knees and rolling behind the nearest object, a couch by the windows. When I sat up to watch, I saw fragments of the wall explode behind where his head had been.
“Stop!” another voice cried out. “Don’t shoot him, you idiots! That’s Costello Badd! You’ll get us all fucking killed!”
“Shut up, Rush,” Red Mohawk said with a sneer. He cocked his gun, but he never got another shot off; sparks flared as a bullet skidded along the weapon. It fell to the floor as blood dripped down the man’s sleeve. Costello was making it severely clear that he wasn’t about to surrender.
My blue-eyed hero ran deeper into the condo, dodging as the men—I counted seven in total—fired on him again. I screamed his name but couldn’t hear it over the noise. I doubted he could. What was going on, how had we been ambushed?
Another voice screamed—Gina’s. “Leave them both alone! You’re all fucking nuts!”
Peeking over the couch, I saw that she was being held by a thick man in a brown coat and torn jeans. Rush, one of the guys had called him. I recognized him from that night in the club, when he’d been chatting with Thorne at the bar.
He squeezed Gina closer, motioning with his gun. “Step down! Darien wants that girl alive!”
“If she’s dead,” Red Mohawk said, “he’ll be just as happy.”
“I swear to fuck, Donnie, if you shoot her . . . ,” Rush started.
“What?” the guy countered, throwing his head back with a laugh. “You’ll what? You think you lead us, Rush, but you don’t. You’re a nobody.”
The bigger man scowled, training his pistol on Donnie uncertainly. Gina’s fingers gripped his forearm where it circled her chest. “I don’t need to be the boss to know we should be trying to work with both the Badds and the Valentines.”
My eyes darted around the condo. Where had Costello gone? Most of the men were fixedly watching Rush and Donnie argue.
Wincing, Donnie shook blood from his hand. “Why bother? We should be going all in with Darien and his family. What have the Badds done for us besides give us scraps? We deserve more, and if you won’t help us get that . . . I will.” He scanned the floor for his gun, but before he got it, Costello was on him. The man had slipped through the room with such ease I hadn’t seen him until he was holding the other man by his throat.
In one sharp motion he slammed Donnie against the granite countertop. Pandemonium began, the others frantically torn between aiming at Costello and aiming at Rush; one even aimed at me. My poor heart was in overdrive.
“Don’t,” Costello said, so simple and emotionless. His icy eyes jabbed toward the men with their guns. “Rush is correct. You shoot me, and you go to war. Have the Valentines promised you anything yet that would make dying so worth it? Any money set aside for you, your families? Anything at all but Darien’s word?”
“I’m taking her,” Costello said, pointing at me. “And her.” He nodded at Gina. “Then we’re leaving. If you try to follow us, I promise I’ll kill each and every one of you. And unlike Darien Valentine’s, my promises have meaning.”
Several men lowered their weapons. “Don’t listen to this shit!” Donnie shouted, trying to push Costello off him. “Shoot the bastard! Shoot all of them! Stop letting the Badds crush us under their heels!”
The tide shifted again. I watched the muscles in Costello’s jaw stretch; he sensed the mounting danger, too. At this rate more blood was going to be shed.
I drew them all to me with a simple phrase. “Darien Valentine is a damn liar.”
Costello snapped his eyes my way. They glistened with fear for me. I forced my feet to move me forward; Gina hadn’t stopped watching me. I thought about all the things I’d learned from my father and uncle.
Unlike these men, I didn’t have any weapons.
Bravery was all I had.
I said, “He told you guys that I shot him. That’s not how it went down. Darien tried to kill me, kill my friend.” I pointed at her. “And when I fought back the idiot shot himself.”
Rush snorted. “He what?”
Some of the guys looked from side to side, one of them whispering, “Is she serious?”
“Is that the kind of man you want to follow?” I asked, now within touching distance of Costello. He watched my approach without blinking. “A guy who doesn’t know which end of the gun the bullet comes out of?”
Now they were chuckling, some more freely than others. Of the seven men, only two had their guns aimed at Costello now, and none were on me. If I just keep talking, they’ll see reason. As bad as things can get, I knew that communication could smooth things over. I’d seen it numerous times. Once I’d watched my father talk a man down from jumping off a building.