Game of Vengeance

by Amanda K. Byrne

  “Denise. Good to see you.” Again he holds out his hand, this time to Charlie. “Dominic Kosta.”

  Charlie glances at his girlfriend before taking Nick’s hand. “Charlie Parker.”

  Nick’s mouth quirks up. “Like the trumpet player?”

  Charlie scowls. “Yes.”

  Denise and I share a giggle, and she sits next to him. “Charlie’s a recovering jazz musician. Seems living up to the Birdman was too much for him.” She bats her lashes at him, and Charlie turns his scowl on her.

  I take my seat next to Nick and gesture to Tori. “Tori, this is Denise and Charlie. Denise is my roommate and another friend of Scott’s.” Nick stiffens at the word roommate, so I pick up his free hand and thread my fingers through his. They exchange greetings, and Nick relaxes once more.

  He rubs his thumb along the back of my hand. “They’ll only release information on Scott’s condition to family, so other than what Cass knows, we’ll have to wait for Scott to get out of surgery.”

  I figured as much. I fill Nick, Denise, and Charlie in on what’d I’d seen of Scott’s wound, and we settle in to wait. At one point, Nick and I switch places so he can quiz Tori on her courses. Beyond her awe, the girl is ecstatic. I’d be jealous if I wasn’t glad it gave me the chance to talk to Denise and Charlie about their Christmas break plans.

  “So you’re going to Colorado for the break?” Please, please go to Colorado for the break. Please get out of the city and away from the men with knives and guns and other implements of death.

  She nods, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I’m going to miss Christmas with my family, but I want this.” Charlie kisses her temple, and she smiles. “And we’ll have to get used to it, anyway, being away from family.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  She pulls on her lower lip. “Charlie’s applied for a graduate program at Cambridge. If he gets in, I’m going with him.”

  Change is inevitable. That doesn’t make it any less stunning. Denise is leaving me to deal with life after college alone? I was prepared for her to move in with Charlie, but part of that preparation was knowing she’d still be in the same city. Cambridge is not the same city.

  But she’ll be safer thousands of miles away.

  “You should come visit. We’ll hit the pubs and ride the Tube and see plays and the Tower of London and Shakespeare’s house and the Globe….” Denise’s gaze drops to her lap. “We’re ready for this, Cass,” she says quietly. And when she looks up, I understand she’s not just talking about her and Charlie making a move that’s tantamount to marriage.

  It’s time we went our separate ways too.

  The knife doesn’t hurt as much as I’d thought it would. Maybe it’s all the years I’ve spent keeping part of the truth from her, or maybe it’s the past month or so that has given us the space we need to grow, and grow up. She’ll always be my bestest, closest friend, but already I’m making room for others. Lia. Constantine.

  Nick. Nick who can hear everything I have to say, if only I have the courage to say it.

  The doctor pushes through the double doors, and we straighten as one. Nick’s arm drops over my shoulders once more, and Tori inches to the edge of her seat.

  “Are any of you family?” the doctor asks. He swipes the cap from his head and runs his fingers through his hair.

  Nick stands and approaches the doctor, the two of them stepping off to the side, while the four of us stare at them. How’s he going to pull this one off? Nick can be charming, extremely so, when he wants to be. But this guy’s a surgeon. He’s immune to charm. Plus, he’s male, and likely straight.

  After some headshakes and rapid gestures, they come back and Nick sits, taking my hand in his. “We have to wait for Scott to wake up. He can’t tell us anything.”

  I turn to the surgeon. “But he came through the surgery okay?”

  The doctor nods. “Once he’s out of recovery, you’ll be able to see him.”

  He leaves, and I lean in and kiss Nick on the cheek. “Thanks for trying.”

  He trails his fingers over my cheekbone. “We can stick around until you can see him, but we need to talk,” he says, a hard, greedy edge in his voice.

  And every nerve ending in my body sits up and takes notice.

  Chapter 17

  Nick doesn’t say much after we leave the hospital. Aside from telling me where he’s parked and a few questions to ascertain I’m okay, he’s silent. He still doesn’t seem angry or overly concerned and protective, though.

  His lack of response should have been my first clue something’s up.

  He drives back to Constantine’s. Before he unlocks the front door, he turns to me. “Pack a bag,” he says quietly. The low, dark tone glides through me, the three words setting me on edge.

  Pack a bag. A few of the least sexy words in existence, and Nick manages to make them sound like a threat and a promise.

  I nod and head straight to the guest room. How long will this captivity last? We need some alone time. Whenever we manage to steal some, it gets interrupted. He has to be taking me to the condo. I hope so. I seriously hope so. Because if he’s dragging me off somewhere just to yell at me, I’m going to be disappointed I didn’t go in armed.

  I throw a couple changes of clothes in a bag and grab my toiletries from the bathroom. Nick’s gone silent again as he moves around the room, tossing clothes in a bag, ducking into the bathroom to retrieve his toothbrush.

  The ride is torture. His words hang between us, sucking all the air from the car. And damn him, he’s back to the serpentine maneuvers, trying to avoid a tail. Which confirms what I guessed: we’re going to Manhattan Beach, and Nick wants me alone.

  Over an hour later, he’s growling and his hands are clenched tight on the steering wheel as he pulls into the underground garage. “Upstairs,” he spits out. Like I’m going to argue.

  The instant the door shuts behind us my back is against it, his hands at my hips to hold me in place. The heat of his mouth on mine is a shock, one I thought I was prepared for. I’m not. Seconds in, and I know whatever leash he’s on has snapped.

  This is who he was all those days and nights he spent at my side while I was tied to a hospital bed. This is who he was when he lay next to me in Thailand, when I ached for his touch and knew I couldn’t handle it.

  I’m not sure I can handle it now.

  His mouth punishes mine and rewards it, feeding me molten kisses. The fire sparks and spreads, and I need his hands everywhere. I need him everywhere. His mouth on my skin, his hands on my ass, his cock buried inside me.

  He growls again, and I shift against him, straining for more.

  Then he backs away. And stares. His gaze is a vicious, black thing, the lines of his face tight with hunger. His hands clench into fists.

  “Nick?” What’s going on? He looks like he wants to devour me, and holding himself back is torture.

  “Bedroom. Strip.”

  From the way he trapped me there as we walked into the condo, I imagined ripping clothes and clawing hands, teeth, and nails, and Nick taking me against the door. There’s still violence in his eyes. But it’s not on his face or vibrating through his body. He’s thrown up a wall, and while it’s barely holding everything back, it’s there where it wasn’t before.

  Trepidation slinks in as I make my way to the bedroom and toe off my shoes. I keep my clothes on, though. Nick stops just inside the doorway. I go to him and run my hands up his chest to his neck.

  I was wrong. So very, very wrong. He’s rigid with anger. He’s just doing a damn good job of making me think he’s okay. “You’re scaring me.” It’s only a half-truth. I don’t know that I could ever be scared of Nick, but his behavior is…concerning.

  His mouth curves into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Liar.” He reaches up and clasps my wrist, bringing it to his mouth before he takes my hand and leads me to the bed. “You can’t seem to stay out of the line of fire, can you?”r />
  “It’s a gift,” I quip. He sits on the edge of the bed, and I straddle his lap, looping my arms around his neck. “Are you okay?”

  He studies my face for a moment, his fingers worming their way under my shirt. “I need you. More than I realized. And it kills me I can’t keep you safe, that I can’t get rid of the source of the problem.”

  I have no words. None. He’s taken them all. I don’t want to be needed. Need is such a heavy burden.

  He tips his forehead to mine. “I need you tonight, Cass.”

  I can’t deny him this. Whatever feelings he’s got for me, it’s rooted in sex. It’s how we tell each other the things we don’t have words for. And if this is how he’ll know that everything’s going to be okay, this is how we’ll do it. “Whatever you want.”

  He grins, the spark of it warming his face. “Careful there, love. I could take unfair advantage of you.”

  I press my mouth to his. “You won’t.”

  He slicks his tongue over my lower lip. “A challenge. Perfect.” His hands leave my hips, and he threads his fingers through my hair. “I mean it, though. I need you. And I’ll take everything you’ve got tonight.”

  My answer’s lost to his mouth, his careful, seeking mouth, a total one-eighty from the kisses he demanded earlier. There’s sweetness and uncertainty and affection and lust, tangling together and tangling me up so I can’t breathe. His tongue rubs along mine, and he strokes his hands through my hair and down my back to pull at the hem of my shirt. “Clothes off,” he says quietly.

  I inch my shirt up and over my head, and he unclasps my bra before drawing it aside. He steadies me as I slide off his lap, unbutton my jeans, and push them down my legs. Then I’m left in nothing but my panties, my healed scars on display.

  The way he looks at me makes me forget about them for the moment. Everything I want to hear from him is right there on his face, and I don’t need the words. “Turn around,” he says hoarsely, getting to his feet.

  I shake my head. “I need to see you.” I slip my hands under his shirt, and he pulls it off. His skin’s so warm, so familiar now. His abs ripple under my fingertips as they glide down to the waistband of his jeans. A tug, a flip, and the fly’s undone. I curl my fingers into the stiff fabric and push them over his hips. He steps out of his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

  Stretching up on my tiptoes, I kiss him, swaying as he grasps my hips. He shifts to splay his hands over my back, the tips of his fingers flexing and digging into my flesh. “Turn around, Cass. Please.”

  He nudges me away from him, ignoring my confusion. It disappears when he sweeps my hair over my shoulder and runs his hands over my skin, dropping kisses along the curve of my neck. They move with purpose. He’s searching for something, but not finding it, and with every new inch he touches, his relief grows, turning those touches to caresses.

  He strokes his hands around and up, cupping my breasts, rolling my nipples into tight, aching points. I pull free and spin around. “I’m okay,” I whisper. I’m not hurt. I’m not bleeding.

  We crawl onto the bed and reach for each other, mouths coming together like two parts of a whole. He scrapes his teeth over my lower lip, nips into it. Braced above me, hips notched against mine, he breaks me down, his mouth crumbling the last of my shoddy defenses.

  I love you. I can’t tear my mouth away long enough to breathe, let alone say it. It doesn’t matter. My ability to think clearly is fading as the air grows heavy and the heat rises. I rub my lips over his stubble-roughened jaw, groaning when he rocks into me. Over and over, the hard ridge of his cock presses into my clit. Constant shocks of pleasure radiate outward.

  I have to touch him. I need to put my mouth on him, know he’s falling apart because of me.

  I push at his shoulders, bowing up when the movement presses my clit harder against his cock. I’m throbbing now. Where release wasn’t necessary before, now I can’t stop until I’ve reached it. I buck under him, and he grabs my hips, rocking faster, faster, faster still, and then I fall apart on a moan.

  He nuzzles my throat, holding my limp body close. “Again,” he murmurs.

  He’s kissing his way down my body while my brain’s trying to re-engage. He finds every hidden spot and works it over so I’m squirming and writhing. Curling his fingers around the sides of my panties, he pulls them off, trailing kisses down my legs. This isn’t how this goes. It’s my turn. “Nick—”

  “Shhh.” He licks me, one broad, flat stroke of his tongue, and we both groan. “Jesus, Cass.” He traces the folds with the tip of his tongue, dipping inside and flicking over my clit. When my hips jerk and squirm of their own accord, he flattens his forearm across my hips and holds me down, plunging his fingers into me.

  Then he sucks. Hard.

  There’s no pattern or rhythm to it as he makes love to me with his mouth. His kisses are as thorough and hot as they are on my lips, and when he twists his fingers and scissors them apart, my hips shoot off the bed, heedless of the hold he has.

  I lace my fingers through his hair and pull. “Up here. Inside me. I need you inside me, Nick.” The next time I come, I want him to feel it. I want it to push him over the edge.

  He sheds his boxers and crawls up my body. With one hard thrust, he pushes into me. “I love you,” I whisper, the words catching on the jagged edges in my throat. He’s surrounding me again, the thick, hard length of him perfect inside me, holding me tight and pushing the air from my lungs. It’s okay. I don’t need the words. I need this more, this ability to reassure him I’m whole, I’m alive, and I’m here with him, always.

  “Tell me again.”

  “I love you.”

  “Again.” He punctuates the word with a roll of his hips, and we go back and forth, sweat beading and slipping, the space between us so slim you can’t fit a sheet of paper there. Every undulation brings us closer to the breaking point, his thrusts shallow, his hips circling in that way he knows drives me insane.

  “Cassidy.” Another hip roll. “Do you know what you do to me?” He takes my mouth, a sweet, sweet kiss that adds to the roaring inferno inside.

  Just when I think I can’t handle anymore, that something has to give, it does, splintering into a thousand tiny shards. Over the roaring in my ears, Nick groans, low and long, his body rigid with pleasure.

  He’s shaking when it’s over, his breath coming in harsh pants. He kisses my forehead and shifts off me. I manage to push myself up and head for the bathroom. I return a minute later and stretch out beside him.

  He plays with the ends of my hair as I trace hearts all over his chest. “I’m never going to get used to it.” Despite how quiet they are, his words echo in the space between us. “Once Isaiah’s no longer a threat, there’ll be a new one. Either to you, or me, or both of us. It may not be right away. It may be years from now.”

  Of all the things we could talk about after sex, he picks the topic guaranteed to kill the mood. My post-orgasm glow is basically gone. I lift my head. “You suck at pillow talk, Dominic.”

  One dark brow rises. “Dominic?”

  I’m pissed. His full name felt appropriate. I sit up. “There’s no food here, I’m guessing. What are we doing about dinner?”

  Nick’s got me pinned to the mattress in a heartbeat. “You could destroy me,” he says softly, his tone at odds with the intensity in his eyes. “If something happens to you, if Isaiah or someone else tries and succeeds in killing you, fuck, even hurting you, I will be done.” He presses his thumb to my lower lip. “I love you.”

  My heart stops. I love you. The words echo in my head. He loves me. Nick loves me. He loves me. Despite everything that’s happened, the age gap, the violence, my increasing doubts, he loves me. What’s here is staggering and beyond anything I’ve felt before. “What?”

  His lips find mine. “I love you,” he murmurs against them.

  “Again.”

  He smiles. “I love you.”

  The kisses i
gnite, and by the time we manage to leave the bedroom, my legs don’t work properly anymore. I curl up on the couch and try not to fall asleep while Nick orders Chinese.

  “How long are we staying here?” I ask when he joins me on the couch, picking me up and moving me into his preferred position, my back to his front.

  “A day at least.”

  I twist around to stare at him. Staying here is like taking ten steps back. It’s a retreat, and it leaves Constantine vulnerable. “Are you going to work tomorrow?”

  “No. We’re getting you outfitted for weapons.”

  Plural. “I’ve already got a gun.”

  “And you need a new blade. Two, preferably.” He rubs his thumb over my lower lip. “I’d lock you in here if I thought you’d stay.” He laughs at my scowl. “And that’s why I won’t.”

  “Bossy and overbearing aren’t attractive on you.”

  “Yet you love me anyway.”

  I do. I sniff and turn around, tipping my head back to rest on his shoulder. If we’re picking out knives, I should think about stocking up on the rest of my supplies. Hit up the shooting range. “I’ll need to get in touch with some of my contacts. I should check out that Krav Maga place Turner found.

  “I wonder….” Maybe we’re going about this all wrong. “Why are we always reacting? What are we doing wrong that’s got Isaiah strutting around like he can defeat whole armies?”

  Nick places a hand on mine and laces our fingers together. “Not whole armies, maybe, but he’s got us on the defensive for the most part. Peter’s right. The family’s gotten too big, and Isaiah’s using it to his advantage. Picture it like…a failing company. There aren’t enough upper-level managers. Isaiah did what he was supposed to do, and the lack of oversight and his new position of power enabled him to whisper a few words in some well-placed ears.”

  “So we need to lure him out.” I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. “He shot Scott. Because of me.”