Virgin

by Georgia Le Carre

The old man’s pale skin goes a shade paler as he blinks rapidly. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “This is insane. I don’t know what either of you are talking about!” I’m afraid the old man’s about to have a heart attack. He’s sweating profusely.

  I drop the USB stick on his mahogany table. “Your honor,” I say, folding my arms. “Everything you did at lunchtime is on there.”

  “Lunchtime?” he sputters breathlessly, staring at the object on his table as if it is a poisonous snake. He looks like is on the brink of a stroke now. If he drops dead, we’re fucked. Men like him surprise me. What do they expect? That one day they won’t be compromised?

  “Your entire session with Evanna is on there.”

  “What do you mean?” he asks slowly, even though he knows exactly what I’m saying. If I wasn’t so twisted up about my horses, I would feel bad for the old guy. We all have our weaknesses. He just can’t get what he needs from the woman he’s with.

  His eyes fly up to us. He’s not ready to give in yet.

  “Imagine what it would do to your reputation if it went public,” I suggest in a low voice. “Imagine what that would do to your wife.”

  “And your children,” Jake adds.

  “Or your high-flying friends,” I continue.

  His hands ball into fists. “All right, all right. Enough. What do you want from me, you scum?”

  “Funny word, coming from a man who can only reach completion while licking a woman’s boots,” Jake says.

  “What do you want? Say your piece and get out of here,” he says coldly. This is a very different man indeed from the groveling submissive we saw on the screen.

  “Tell your son to lay off my woman and my son,” I clarify. “She made the mistake of getting mixed-up with him, but now he won’t let her go. I need you to make sure he backs off her. Be grateful that I’m giving you this opportunity because what he’s done is enough to get him killed.”

  “I can’t control—”

  I hold my hand up. “I don’t give a shit how you do it, I just want it done. Threaten to stop turning a blind eye to his activities if you have to. Suggest one of his prior cases be reopened. Call the fucking police on him. I don’t care. Just make it happen, and today.”

  “Or we’ll release the footage,” Jake murmurs.

  “We’re not unreasonable. We just need justice. Your son sent around his men and slaughtered a stable full of my prize winning horses. I fucking loved those animals.”

  His eyes widen with surprise.

  “That’s right, this is the kind of thing your son does. He kills defenseless animals because he can’t get the woman he wants.”

  His back straightens. He knows his son is no good, but he doesn’t care. No matter what that’s his son and he’ll stand by him.

  Any pity I felt for him flees. “If you don’t make him understand that the woman and the boy don’t belong to him, I will release the video online and to all the major newspapers. The British press love juicy debauched stories about our moral, upright judiciary. So no doubt someone will want to print this story. To be clear: I don’t want to see or hear from your son or any of his goons again. Understood?”

  “Understood,” he says tightly. “Now please leave. I never want to see either of you again.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve already seen much more of you than I ever wanted to,” Jake slings back.

  Judge Jackson stares at us thin-lipped and resentful. It’s blackmail after all.

  As we turn toward the door, I remember something else. “Oh, one more thing.”

  “What?” he snaps.

  “Since you never taught your son how to treat a woman, I’ll have to teach him myself. Just wanted to give you a heads up that I expect no consequences for doing so,” I inform him.

  He narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about?

  “I’m going to give your son the kicking he deserves.”

  He takes a deep breath and looks as if he would like to say something horrible to me, but all he says is, “Fine. Do what you must, but don’t land him in hospital.”

  “Shame you didn’t introduce him to Evanna. A good flogging might’ve straightened him out years ago,” Jake says with a laugh as we leave to find Tony Jackson.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Tyson

  “You’re sure this is the place?” I look over at Jake, who nods.

  “Yeah, my sources tell me he is in there right now. Come on.”

  “Jake, I don’t want you to come in. I need to do this myself.” No, I don’t need his help. I want the satisfaction of taking Tony Jackson down all to myself. I can’t go as far as I want to, as I fantasized about doing, but it’ll have to be enough.

  He grins. “I’m just here for the show. Don’t worry, little brother, I won’t interfere.”

  The pub is quite crowded for so early in the evening, but the general mood in the place quiets when the customers get a look at us. Even if they don’t know who I am everybody knows Jake Eden. I can only imagine what they’re thinking as I scan the room looking for him. Jake told me he usually sits in the back so I focus my attention there.

  Sure enough, there he sits. Like a textbook definition of a gangster. Where Jake is so suave, sophisticated, you couldn’t even imagine he was once a working gangster, Tony is rough and brutish. His fists are roughly the size of hams. I think of them making contact with Izzy’s face and it makes me feel physically ill. It’s a wonder she’s still alive. He sits in a booth with his arms stretched out on the table. A king in his castle, loving his life.

  For now.

  “Give a holler if you change your mind,” Jake offers as I begin to walk towards Tony.

  I don’t look at anyone around me. Only him. My whole focus. He turns his head and sees me. I see a flash of something in his eyes. He is not afraid of me. Not yet. The room goes quiet as all eyes follow my progress. There isn’t even a whisper. It is clear that I must be the only man who’s ever walked in with the sheer purpose of beating the living shit out of the pub’s owner. Maybe he’s never pushed anybody as far as he’s pushed me. I stand in front of him and his men surround me. Six of them. I can take them.

  “You better have come to bring Izzy back,” he says, a mean expression on his face.

  I don’t answer in words. I answer with the fist that makes instant contact with his mouth, splitting his lip open over his teeth. He scrambles from the booth, cursing up a storm, while his men circle me and try to grab me.

  But a voice like whiplash makes them freeze.

  “Let your boss fight his own battles.”

  I turn my head quickly and see that Jake has no intention of letting me fight my own battles. He is standing with about ten men around him. None of them look friendly. One of them looks downright dangerous with a scar that runs right down his face. I look into Jake’s eyes and all the friendliness and warmth I saw ever since I met him in his office have been wiped out. There, in front of me, stands that ruthless, illusive gangster I saw in the club all those years ago.

  Tony stalls and looks around him. His men are watching. It’s crazy as hell, but even his own men will not defy Jake. I see Tony clench his fists with frustration. This is not the way he normally does business. His way is to send his henchmen to do his dirty work for him while he plays the big-I-am by hitting women. He already knows he can’t fight me. I took care of the three brain-dead dickheads he sent to my house last night.

  “Who the hell do you think you are coming into my territory? You want to start a fucking war?” he asks Jake aggressively, blood streaming down his chin.

  Jake shakes his head calmly. “Nope. This is my little brother and I’m here to keep it fair.”

  He frowns. “Your brother?”

  “Aye, that’s what I said,” Jake says with a nod.

  “Well, your little brother needs to be taught a lesson. He took my woman.”

  “She was his woman before she was yours. Christopher is his,” Jake’s voi
ce rings out in the still space.

  “Nah. Finders keepers. She’s my woman now and he can fuck off if he thinks I’m giving up what’s mine. He can have the brat though.”

  “You want her. Fight for her then,” I challenge.

  “I don’t fight pussies,” he sneers.

  “No? That’s not what I’ve been told.”

  “Fuck what you’ve heard.” He looks me up and down, a disgusted, ugly expression on his face. “I won’t fight you, and I’m not giving her up. What’re you gonna do?”

  I answer with a straight powerful jab, this time on his nose. His head jerks back and the satisfying crack does me good.

  “My nose,” he howls, clutching it as blood pours from between his fingers.

  I make a beckoning movement with the fingers of my right hand. I’m not finished. Not by a long shot.

  With a growl full of pain and humiliation, he tries to take me down with a left hook, but I see it coming a mile off and duck. Using my hunched position to my advantage, I sink three, four, five good slugs into his ribs as he reels back helplessly. Groaning he doubles over. I use his own momentum against him and shove his head further down as I bring my knee up sharp and hard. Something else cracks in his face, maybe his cheekbone and he screams like a girl. I don’t care. I wish I could break his whole fucking face.

  He falls to the floor in a daze, and I kick him in the ribs, the same place I’ve already punched him. Where he hurt Izzy. He shouts to his men to help him. Not one person moves.

  “You want to know who I am? I’m Christopher’s father, that’s who.” Another kick. “And Izzy’s man.” And another. “Do you understand who I am now?” Kick, kick, I slam my boot repeatedly into his midriff. Begging for mercy he rolls onto his side, away from me, and curls into a ball. I continue kicking his back, hitting his kidneys as hard as I can. Let him piss blood for a while. I’m sure he’s done worse to her.

  “Enough! Enough!” he blubbers, snot and blood running down his face.

  “Not such a tough man when you’re not beating up a woman, are you?” I roll him over onto his back. He cowers up at me. “Not so tough when another man uses his fists on you, huh?”

  I haul him to his feet. He’s a big man, but I’m bigger, and I have all the fury and rage in me. And love. Love for her. My Izzy.

  “She’s my woman,” I spit in his bloody, bruised face. “Mine, motherfucker.” He gasps for breath. “If you ever, ever come within a mile of her or my son again, I swear I’ll fucking tear you from limb to limb. Do you understand?”

  He doesn’t answer, his eyes are rolling in his head. Just looks down at the fists which are holding him up.

  “Answer me,” I snarl. “Oh, and you should know that I’ve already paid a visit to your father.” His good eye goes wide. “Don’t worry. I didn’t hurt him. But I did manage to convince him to let you fight your own battles on this matter. So. Let me ask you again. Do you understand that I will kill you if you ever come within a mile of Isabelle or Christopher or Izzy’s mum again? You or any of your friends?”

  He takes a deep, shuddery breath before nodding his head.

  “Good.” I cock my right arm back and deliver the killer blow to his jaw, shutting off his lights. He is unconscious before he hits the floor.

  I look around again before brushing myself off. I walk up to Jake and we leave the pub. No one moves or says anything. As Jake and his men come out its pandemonium inside the pub.

  Jake smiles at me. “For a horse-breeder that was an impressive show.”

  I smile at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

  “No need to thank me. We’re family.”

  We walk together to the car.

  “Where next?” he asks as we slide into our seats.

  “Let’s go get my family,” I say with a grin.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Tyson

  “That’s it?” Izzy’s eyes are wide with a mixture of disbelief and hope as she searches my face for the truth. “It’s really over?”

  “Over and done, for good and for all,” I promise.

  “He gave up just like that?” she asks incredulously.

  “Well, he needed a bit of persuasion.”

  “What kind of persuasion?”

  “The kind he uses on you.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “It’s safe to say he will not be bothering you ever again.”

  “How can you be so sure?” she asks, chewing her lip worriedly.

  “I’m sure. We’ll just leave it at that.”

  “Oh, no.” She cups the side of my face with her hand. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “That’s not even funny.”

  “All right. I won’t lie. I wanted to, but I didn’t. He’s still very much alive. Just a bit … unconscious when I left him. He’ll heal up, just like you will.” I touch her face, then let my hands gently find her waist. “He won’t hurt you anymore. Ever, ever again. I already got confirmation from his father that he’ll keep him in check for me.”

  She looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Why would he do that? He adores Tony. Tony can do no wrong in his eyes.”

  “Believe me,” I add with a rueful smile, “it’s in his best interest for him to keep him away from my woman.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to think about all this. It’s all too much to take in at once. I’m struggling to get it through my head that he would stay away because of a beating. If I know him he will be itching to take his revenge.”

  “Take it one day at a time,” I murmur, kissing her forehead, then the tip of her nose. “We’re all set now.”

  Her eyes swim with tears. “You’re my knight in shining armor”

  Her mother enters the room with baby Christopher on her hip.

  “Mom,” she says. “It’s over.”

  Her mother looks at me, her mouth agape.

  “Can I?” I ask, suddenly choked up, holding my arms out for my son. She moves forward and stands in front of me.

  For the first time in my life I look into my son’s eyes. His eyes are blue, but a different shade than mine, deeper and with a starburst in them. I smile at him and he gives me a big grin. His teeth are tiny and his gums a clean pink.

  “Da, da,” he cries.

  I hold out both my hands in front of him and he raises both his arms and wriggles his body to get out of his grandmother’s grip.

  I grab him around his solid body and hold him to my chest, marveling at the feel of his strong, sturdy little body. His skin is so soft. His blue eyes look straight into mine, and I’m hooked.

  I hear the sound of Izzy crying softly with joy as I touch my lips to the side of his head. I whisper in his little ear, “I’m your daddy, Christopher.”

  I drive them back to Suffolk, but as soon as we enter the driveway I feel sick. I can’t never again live here. Not without my horses. I stop the car and turn around.

  “Why are we turning around?” Izzy asks.

  “We’ll stay in a hotel tonight, okay?”

  “Oh, okay,” she says uncertainly. “But I really wanted to see your horses.”

  My hands clench on the steering wheel. Later tonight I’ll tell her about my horses, but right now, I can’t deal with the emotions. When I was running on autopilot I was numb, but now that the protective numbness is gone, the loss is indescribable. We drive to a hotel and check in. Her mother goes to her room, which is next door to ours, and the staff bring in a cot for Christopher. Very gently, I lower him into his cot. We stand next to each other looking down at him.

  “We’re so lucky, aren’t we?”

  I turn to look at her. “I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

  I pull her along until we are standing next to the wall. As gently as I can, I start to undress her. She clasps my hands.

  “I don’t look so good,” she says.

  “You’ll be beautiful when you’re big with my next child, when you’re old and full of wrinkles, when you
’re sick, when you put on weight, or lose weight. To me you’ll always be the woman who turned my brain to jelly. The most beautiful woman on earth. Always perfect.”

  Her mouth forms an O.

  “Now, let me see what is mine.”

  Her hands drop away. I take off her top. Her bra. Her shoes. Her trousers. Her panties. Her body is black and blue and yellow. My mind takes a picture of her like this because I will never again see her this way. My mouth finds her nipple. It’s pink and it belongs in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it, the ache for her astonishing. I need to lose myself completely in this woman.

  “Tyson,” she gasps.

  I suck the bud and it hardens in my mouth. I let my lips travel across to her other breast and enclose that nipple inside my wet, hot mouth. Her body arches sensuously. I look into her eyes as my mouth trails down to her stomach, gently licking at the swollen discolored flesh I find on my way. I travel down past her hips to the insides of her thighs. As my tongue skims the delicate skin she draws her breath sharply. I trap her legs with my hands and press my mouth against her pussy.

  “You’re so fucking wet, baby,” I growl.

  Her hips move, asking for more. “I want you inside me,” she whispers.

  “I’ll be inside you soon enough.” Licking her sweet slit gently, I massage her clit with my thumb. My eyes swivel up and lock on hers. She is trying not to moan too loudly. Each time my tongue drags across her clit or swirls around it she shudders. Her eyelids flutter when I slip two fingers inside her hot folds.

  “Ahhh …” she groans.

  I hate that she has to control herself. I want the whole goddamn world to know that only I can make her sound like that. I lift her right leg and drape it over my shoulder so her pussy is splayed open for me. It is dripping, the little hole pulsating with excitement. I grasp her thigh so she cannot move at all.

  Then, without any warning, I bury my head in her pussy and fucking devour her. Fuck, it feels like I haven’t eaten her pussy in ages. Plunging my tongue deeper and deeper, I lick the sweet taste from the inside of her walls, savoring the honeyed flavor. It’s addictive. My tongue is going to be in this pussy as often as it can. Her hands drop to my head and she grabs fistfuls of my hair. I take her clit in a deep kiss, sucking and nibbling. I want her to cum on my tongue. Her pussy clenches and throbs against my mouth as I bring her to an orgasm.