The Wolf (Billionaire Vikings Book 2)

by S. M. Maddox

  “I ran to my computer and pulled up my old college account. Sure enough, Jack had sent me dozens upon dozens of e-mails, timelining every single thing he’d ever collected. It was all there, all of his notes, searches, records, photos. He’d made sure I had a complete record from his side, like he knew what was going to happen to him. Jack had a sixth sense about circumstances. He knew they could change in the blink of an eye. He’d seen enough in his career, which had only made him that much more cautious.

  “I quickly scrolled to the last few. One was an arrest record from a few years back, a few states over. I gasped when I looked at the picture. It was Jason. He was younger scruffier, but it was undeniably Jason. Only the name didn’t match. Instead of Jason March, the name listed was Giuseppe Marchese.”

  The comforter growl, “What the actual fuck? Marchese Marchese?”

  “Yeah, those Marchese’s. Which meant nothing to me in that moment, but would come to mean a lot in the next week or so. The very last e-mail had the subject of:

  If Something Should Happen.

  I recited it by heart. I’d read it a hundred times, over and over. I took a deep breath as the comforter scooted closer to me for emotional support. The air was heavy with the words lingering in it.

  “Jessie, if you’re reading this, then it’s probably not looking too good for me. I hoped you’d got my meaning, but I know you did. You’re sharp, Jess, too sharp and too smart for your own good. Or mine, for that matter. I knew I couldn’t keep you for long. You were my lightning in a bottle. Bright and hot for a second, and then you were gone.

  It has been my honor to be called your friend, and my greatest honor was getting to be your fiancé. I always thought you’d come back to me, I always hoped at least. Maybe you would have, once you’d spread your wings. You’d want eggs, a nest, and you’d come back to me, knowing that I was your hawk lover. Ok, that was weird, but you know what I mean. ;p

  I may not have been good enough for you, but I was damn near a lot closer than that asswipe. The previous e-mail is proof of that. He’s bad news, Jessie. Like, mafia family bad news. The Marchese family can’t be stopped. They’re legendary, and now they’re local. Collins figured it out, when some deals went south. They interfered with some of his supply chains, but he confronted them. You know what happened after that.

  Jason March is Giuseppe Marchese, one of the cousins. They change their names so they can float around seamlessly. They own the local police stations, the banks, etc. etc. They’ve infiltrated everything. Someone here on the force is in their pocket. Some of our searching and records flagged us, that’s how they found out about you and me looking into Collins.

  Jessie, it’s important that you get away from him, from here. Move. Change your name. Do whatever you have to do to stay safe. There is a family down in Fries, on the water. The Andersen’s. Rumor has it they’re descended from the great Vikings. Sounds like bullshit, but here’s the important part- they’re the only ones that the Marchese’s seem to fear. That’s got to count for something.

  Take your notes to them. Take my e-mails. They will help you.

  I have been so desperately in love with you. Please know that I didn’t mean to leave you alone. I never wanted to leave you alone.

  Your faithful hawk,

  Jack.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jessie

  “Damn.” The Roland-burrito paused for a minute, processing the letter I’d just recited from memory. “But that’s not the rest of the story, either.”

  “No, it’s not. I sat on it for a week, deciding what to do. Finally, I gathered all my notes, uploaded everything to a flash-drive. I thought maybe I’d go to the FBI, turn in what I knew, along with all of our collected evidence. I wanted justice for Jack, and even more so, I was a raging inferno of anger. If Jason or whatever the fuck his name was that day had showed up in front of me, I would’ve killed him with my bare hands and not even blinked.

  “He’d spent months buttering me up, lying to me, sleeping with me. All the while I’d let it happen. I hadn’t used my hawk sense, or even my common sense to check him. But Jack had. Jack had uncovered Jason’s dirty little secret and it cost him his life. I cost him his life.”

  “Malone, you have to know it wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was my fault! Everything was all my fault! I dumped Jack. I started looking into Collins’ death. I brought Jack into it. I dated Jason. And do you want to know the worst part? I hate myself more than I hate Jason! We could’ve all been living in our ignorant bliss if I’d just minded my own business. I’d never have met Jason, and Jack would still be alive!”

  I was screaming now, and I picked up a throw pillow and started beating it on the back of the couch, imagining it was Jason I was killing. Roland quickly unwrapped himself upon noticing the feathers dotting the air around us. He ran to me, tightening his stable arms around my flailing ones until I collapsed against him, violently sobbing.

  He held me there, sitting on the floor and propped against the back of the couch, until my cries turns to quiet sobs. Roland got up and left me momentarily, and I curled myself into a ball on the floor.

  He returned a few minutes later, comforter in hand and a black to-go container in the other. He sat back down on the floor, wrapped the comforter around himself and pulled me into his lap. With my head comfortably nestled against his shoulder, he took the lid off the plastic box. Chocolate-y, coffee-y, creamy sweetness drifted into my nostrils, causing me to raise my head back up.

  If we’d have been having a better conversation, this moment would’ve been perfect. Me in his lap, his strong arms sheltering me while we fed each other tiramisu. I tried to remind myself that I couldn’t fall in love with him. The men I loved got murdered. The men I dated were crime lord scum. There had been no in between in my life. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to get lost in the soul-sucking yumminess of the tiramisu.

  “How’d you end up in the coma?”

  I nearly choked as the second bite jumped onto my uvula and wouldn’t let go. “How’d you know about that?”

  “You’re not the only one who can use google, Malone. I’ve known since you started working for me.”

  “Asshole. You let me just go on and on instead of asking me what you really wanted to know? How I got my scar?”

  “No. Your story is important to me, Jessie. I want to know it all, and I want you to trust me enough to talk to me but I’m not a patient man. Surely you figured that out by now.”

  “I was getting to that part if you’d just hold on and let me enjoy my dessert for a minute.”

  “Well, you should know, I’m not enjoying it at all. I had planned on licking it off your delicious tits before I realized you probably needed some comfort food right about now. Same reason you women secretly keep Ben & Jerry’s on hand at all times and think no one notices.”

  “And how do you know women do that, exactly?”

  “Have you looked in the freezer in the breakroom lately? It looks like the ice cream aisle of a grocery store. I have no doubts Tina’s charging it to my card, just to spite me. Plus, my future sis-in-law confirmed as much.”

  “Tina hates me.”

  “Yeah, she does.”

  “Geez, don’t sugar coat it or anything. What’d I ever do to her?”

  “Specifically? Me.”

  “The rumors are true? You used to have a thing with her, and you buy her expensive trips to the Bahamas or wherever every year?”

  “I used to fuck her regularly, yes. She’s got a great ass, and she’s loyal. I got to keep my dick wet and clean at the same time, and she got orgasms twice a day.

  “What she failed to tell you in her jealousy is that Andersen Brothers and Andersen Ltd. close three weeks every summer so that we can all take vacation at the same time. Makes scheduling through the year hassle free, and no stress of anyone having to do twice the workload while someone else is gone. All of my employees have the option of a paid trip somewhere, or three weeks
paid leave every summer. It’s a way to give back to them, show them we appreciate all they do. Loyalty is an expensive, but worthy commodity that you can never have enough of.

  “Tina getting a vacation because I was exclusively fucking her is how she chose to spin it, but in actuality Tina options to take three weeks and go to some island vacation somewhere instead of getting three weeks paid. My PA always books her the cheapest hotels, but makes sure to request a towel in her room in the shape of some stupid animal so that Tina feels special. It’s not a high price to pay to keep her happy. Most everyone else options to just have three weeks home with their families. Tina’s divorced and she has no kids, so she’d rather globetrot. The reason she hates you is because I haven’t touched her since I met you.”

  Don’t fall in love, Jessie.

  The silence between us was screaming. I knew why he hadn’t touched her. He’d nearly said it yesterday before I’d stopped him. I was already there, though I hadn’t admitted it to myself yet.

  “I don’t want you to die,” I whispered to him.

  “I don’t plan on dying until I’m 100 and your wrinkly ass arms are wrapped around me, Malone.”

  He kissed the tears that were freely falling down my cheeks. “Let’s get one thing straight, because you seem to be stubborn as fuck. Whatever you think your big secret from me is, I. Do. Not. Care. There is nothing you could say or do that would change how I feel about your bullheaded ass.”

  “Man, you’re killin’ it with the romance talk.”

  “I’m honest. I’ll always be honest with you, and I’ll always meet you head on because we’re the same, Malone. We’re twisted, fucked up equals who are hot as hell for each other, and that’s a fact. Who put you in the coma and who do I have to kill?”

  I looked into his eyes, equal parts turned on and stunned because I really believed him. The eyes that looked back at me told me his story. Swirls of haunting blue with flecks of metallic silver stared back at me, unlocking their secrets. He was lonely, a wolf with no pack of his own outside of his brothers. He’d lost several loves, endured heartbreaks of a different sort that I knew nothing about.

  A galaxy of emotions swirled in his irises, anger and solitude combined to create a fierce warrior. He wore his heart on his sleeve, literally reflected in his tattoos, only most people were too daft to realize it. They wanted him for the obvious reasons, his looks, his power, his wealth.

  Wasn’t that why I’d come here too? My heart ached for him, for the betrayal that I represented.

  My lips met his gently, softly apologizing for any hurt I would cause him in the near future. Even if he said he didn’t care, he would. He had to.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jessie

  “I got furious. I went to the new producer, the head of WFYR, anyone who would listen and told them I was going to do this big expose on the mafia infiltration. They’d ruined my life, and I was damn near going to make them uncomfortable in theirs.

  “Obviously the network heads shut me down fast, they didn’t want to end up murdered for allowing such a thing to happen. My new producer was a little more sympathetic, surprisingly. He insisted that I submit newspaper columns anonymously, as if I were scared of what they’d do to me. I wasn’t, I had nothing to lose any more except Otis.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “My parents are dead. My mom died in high school, on the day of homecoming. My dad died a few years later when I was in college. Like I said, no one but Otis.”

  I looked over at Otis sleeping in his dog bed. He’d barely moved all day, poor thing. I guessed he was exhausted from the excitement of having company over.

  “It didn’t take too long for the Marchese’s to figure out they’d messed with the wrong chick. I thought they’d be afraid of me, of my celebrity status. I was wrong.

  “A week later, as I waited to the elevator to land at my studio’s floor, I was met immediately by the heads of WFYR. They basically fired me on the spot, no severance package or anything, on the grounds that I’d violated some bullshit confidentiality clause with Jason, who wasn’t even a real person. I went to a bar and got myself super drunk. Bad decision, I know. I didn’t care at that point. The bartender shut me down at 3 am, after I couldn’t even tell him my own name. I only know this because he’s the one who found me later and recounted the events of the night that I couldn’t remember.

  “The part I do remember, I wish I didn’t. I left the bar and cut through the alleyway beside it. That alleyway you always scream at the people in movies not to cut through because obviously they’re fixing to die? Yeah, it was that one. I leaned over, bracing myself on the wall as I puked my guts out. It was lightly raining, so I didn’t hear footsteps behind me. Even if I had, I was so drunk they probably wouldn’t have registered anyway.

  “As I was hurling for the third, or maybe fourth, time, someone walked up behind me and smashed my head into the brick wall. I remember the feel of blood pouring down my head, and my vision going blurry. I remember the smell, too. It was the smell of sickly-sweet, cheap ass cologne, the same kind Jason had always worn. It was nauseating then, and it was even more so now. Instinctively, I knew it was him doing this to me.

  “I tried to scream, and he punched me in my stomach. I doubled over, trying a failing to catch my breath as his hand grabbed my throat. He was strong, much stronger than me on a normal day, and this time I was almost completely inebriated. His hand pinned my throat to the brick building, the jagged corners dragging my skin off as he pushed my body up over them.

  “He held me there, staring at me for a minute. I couldn’t see his face for the blood in my eyes, but I could swear I saw a bit of sympathy in his hesitation before he sank the knife into my side. I screamed as loudly as I could, which felt like hours but was probably only seconds as he slowly pulled the knife upwards until it scraped underneath my rib.

  “The coma was medically induced. I was in such a shredded state of consciousness from the beating and the stabbing, or really it was a flat out slicing, that it was necessary to help me heal.

  “The bartender who’d found me came to check on me every day, my nurse said. He’d been the one to drive me to the hospital after finding my collapsed heap by the dumpster. The doctors said if he hadn’t found me in time, I easily would’ve gotten a nasty infection that would’ve killed me. What was left of me after I’d nearly bled out, that is.

  “WFYR felt bad about what had happened and ran a news story about me. The town donated a lot. Everyone felt personally connected to me since I delivered them their news every night. The donations paid for most of my medical bills and for most of my time off.”

  I wasn’t sad anymore. The more I told Roland, the madder I got. “You know, I think in his own fucked up way, Jason did love me. He could’ve had someone kill me. He could’ve killed me himself, but he missed every important thing in my body when he’d sliced me. The scar is largely superficial, but it makes me mad as hell to think of all it represents. If I ever see Jason again, I’ll kill him myself.”

  “You don’t know if you mean that or not,” Roland said, his tone suggesting he believed I was capable. “You can’t know until you’re in that situation.”

  “I do know. He killed Jack, Roland. The kindest, sweetest, most loving man who ever lived is dead. I could easily avenge him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Roland

  Damn, girl. The thing is? I did believe her. In her green eyes, the flecks of gold danced around, taunting me with their lyrical movement. Immediately, I was transported to the bonfires my family and I had hosted over the years. The old gods and ancient ancestors who pierced the veil between the spirits on the night of Vetrnaetr revealed themselves in the flames of her soul.

  Captivating in everything she said and did, she’d had me from the first night. The word captivating didn’t even do her justice. Entranced, enchanted, mesmerized, charmed. All the words. Jessie had bewitched me and, strange to say, I honestly think it was whe
n she slapped me on that first night. When she’d wanted me for herself only, and for no other reason. People always had a vendetta when they tried to associate with me. Women especially. They wanted sugar daddies, baby daddies, free money for letting me stick my dick in whatever hole. They always wanted me to do something for them, not just be with me for me.

  If that’s what her dirty secret really was, then that made her more valuable than a million bars of gold because she didn’t want me to think less of her for needing my help. I had a clue that maybe that’s why she felt so guilty, but I wanted her to say it out loud.

  Life is a game of chess. Never assume your opponent’s next move. She perceives herself as my opponent now, but she’s dead wrong. She’s my fucking queen.

  Most people cower when I walk in a room. They almost never have the balls to fight and push me around. But this woman, she walked in and demanded my time, my surrender, and how I treat her. I can count on one hand the number of people who’ve done that in my life: four. My two brothers, my sis-in law and my father are the only ones who’ve ever successfully earned my respect. And now this feisty redheaded vixen makes five.

  Vixen, she certainly was. Sex goddess, more like it. I’m an ass man, and holy hell does she have a great one. Imagine two perfectly round cantaloupes in yoga pants. Yeah, I’m not great with the romance talk, or so I’ve been told. She wasn’t rail thin skinny, but to say hourglass didn’t do her justice either. And I loved that she loved to eat in front of me, devouring her food shamelessly with her eyes closed and a smile across her lips. Girl had curves for days that kept my eyes busy rolling over them endlessly. Even her scar was sexy, turning angrier and redder according to her mood, just like her personality. Mood scar. I couldn’t focus on anything when she was in the room. The moment I realized I could play her body like a violin? That turned me on even more.