Knox Brotherhood

by Knox, Elizabeth

  I slide into her pussy, slowly, wanting to make this time different from the rest. I slip all the way back, slamming against the furthest reaches inside of her before pulling back again. Her mouth opens in a large “O” as a gasp escapes her throat. It is hard to hold back when I see her in such ecstasy. Normally, I would just pump my cock in so hard and fast that she couldn't breathe. I can’t do that this time. I want to make her feel everything that I do through my actions, this secondary feeling pushing past the lust that attracted me to her first.

  I don't know how long we go for, maybe thirty minutes or an hour until I finally let go and let her do the same, shaking all over again. I fall to her side and wrap my arms around her and hold her as she falls asleep that way. Natasha is my girl, and I am going to make sure that she knows it every damn day.

  It is two in the afternoon when I am trailing my fingers along Natasha's thigh that she tells me, “You know, you’re here on business, but you don't seem to be doing much working.” There is a smile on her face, and we both chuckle.

  “My work isn't happening until later tonight. No need to feel responsible for me slacking off,” I tell her with a half-smile on my face as I pull her closer to me. I am not ready for her to go, for us to be done with this little honeymoon of sorts before I go to do the terrible, grueling work I have to do later tonight.

  “When I am finished, I will call you, and we can go out for a late dinner,” I tell her.

  Natasha kisses me lightly on the lips. “Sounds good to me.”

  She pulls away from me, and I feel a chill envelope the space she filled. “Now, unlike you, I have to get to work.” I reach over just as she’s picking up her clothes and smack her ass, gaining me a squeal and her pulling me into her across the side of the bed for one more kiss. Then, like that, she’s gone, and I have to focus on the next bit of my night, preparing to make the man that gave the order to attempt to end Mariana's life pay with his fucking head.

  ***

  My men and I don’t wait for any invitations. We knock, and the minute the fucker answers, we are on him, busting through the door full force. My men take him down fighting and use duct tape, handcuffs, rope, everything that we have on us to bind this guy up. He is going to tell us why he did it and who else is involved, or he is going to regret it. We will fuck him up until he dies a painful death, or he can tell us all he knows, and I might show him mercy.

  I pull brass knuckles from my pocket and put them on, looking into the scared and confused eyes of Jan Constantin. The leader of the Constantin Clan is bound and waiting to see what I do next, and I like the control I feel. It’s that deep dark part of me I save for these moments. Sure, I get a little bit of control in the bedroom, but this, this is like home.

  “So, tell me Jan, why in the fucking world would you order a hit out on Mariana Vasile?” I ask, getting down to his level.

  “What the hell is this about, Anton?” he asks me. So, playing dumb is his tactic. I hack one into his face, a huge wad of spit to show my disrespect for this traitor.

  “I asked you a fucking question. You can either answer or my men and I are going to see to it that you have a slow and agonizing death, and you will STILL tell me the answer. So, let’s try this again. Why did you order a hit on the queen of the Clans?” I seethe, giving him one last chance before I release hell on him. Actually, he will probably welcome hell with open arms when I am done with him.

  “Why would I order a hit on Mariana, Anton?” he asks, daring to look me in the eye. I stand up and nod my head, giving the first order. Three of my men begin to go at him, one knocks him on the head with the butt of their gun while the other two kicked at his knees and shins. These were big guys, some of the biggest I have come across. I use them on purpose. Not even a Clan leader can go through this without feeling the pain and crying out. He seems to be trying though.

  I put my hand up, causing them to stop. “Have you had enough yet? Are you ready to answer my question?”

  “Do you really think I am the one who put the hit out on Mariana?” he asks, looking up at me again, and I can see a hint of defiance in his eyes, the kind that is dangerous for me. It needs to be gone. This time, I initiate the pain, the torture, with a blow to his face with the brass knuckles. His nose snaps under my fist, and the men start at it again, kicking him to the ground and going for his stomach, his back, as I continue to fuck up his smug face. His blood pools around him, as we beat him senseless, and I am surprised he is still clinging to consciousness. I can tell he is not going to give us shit. We should have done away with this vile prick long ago. He never felt right to me, so young and cocky.

  I pull out my gun and hold it to the back of his head as my men pull him back up to his knees.

  The sound of the front door stops us dead in our tracks. Who is coming home to Jan Constantin?

  I look up and meet a pair of hazel eyes attached to a head with dark red locks flowing down over her curvy body. It is the same woman who left me at my hotel wanting more, and she is looking at me, covered in Jan’s blood, nothing but horror on her face.

  CHAPTER 5

  Secrets and lies kill relationships. No matter how careful you are, you will get caught. What’s done in darkness will always come to light.

  - Anonymous

  Natasha

  I look over the men in suits surrounding my uncle, one of them holding a gun to the back of his head. I am confused even more as I see the man holding the gun; his broad shoulders and tall frame, his dirty blonde hair. He looks powerful, but a bit of a far cry from the man I am used to seeing. “Anton, what are you doing?” I say frantically, everything catching up with me.

  I have no idea why these men are here and why my uncle is kneeling in a pool of what I am guessing from the looks of him is his own blood. His face is all fucked up, and Anton has a gun to his head. He is the only man I recognize out of all of them. This is not what I thought I would see when I came in from a night with my friends after work. I thought I’d see my uncle for a bit and then get a text to go to dinner. Not this. Anything but this.

  Through the blood on his face and his clearly broken nose, my poor uncle, Jan, begins to talk to me. “You need to leave, okay? This isn't your fight. If you just leave and forget about me, they will leave you alone.” I watch and flinch as Anton hits him in the back of the head with his gun. This can’t be happening. I have to be in a nightmare.

  “How do you even know Anton?” Jan asks, and I don't know how to answer, but my brain is not working to make up a lie.

  “I…uh…he.” Then, the word just comes out. “Boyfriend.”

  I am shaking, and the words come out sounding frantic, but my fear is mostly for my uncle as I decide to approach Anton against my uncle's wishes. I am used to dealing with powerful men, after all, my father is one of the most feared men on the planet. "What is this about? Why are you all here? Please, why are you trying to hurt him?" I ask, needing the answers. Maybe I can find a way to stop this.

  “This is Clan business,” he spits out, and I can tell this is not going to be simple. “Considering you are not within the clan bloodlines, you aren’t privy to this knowledge. I am not going to change that. You really should just listen to him Natasha,” he tells me.

  “She’s my niece, Anton, part of Clan Constantin,” my Uncle snaps at him before I get the chance. It means I do have a right to know what's going on, but instead of submission, when I look up into Anton's eyes, I see something different there. He is looking at me like I am some prize, like he has just won the lottery.

  “I guess, I can tell you, then,” Anton says straightening up. “Jan has betrayed the Clan, plotting against our queen, trying to have Mariana Vasile, well Petran now, executed.”

  I gasp. I don't know much about the politics of the Romanian Mob. I have purposefully stayed out of it, but why would my Uncle want Mariana dead. What would be the point? He is in deeper shit than I believed when I walked in here, and I don't know if I can get him out of this.


  “Why would he want her killed?” I yell at Anton, but I didn't let him answer. I yell at my uncle instead. “Why would you do this? Why is my fucking boyfriend here accusing you of trying to have Mariana murdered? Why am I having to find out my closest relative has done something so horrible?” I screech at him.

  “I didn't have anything to do with it,” my uncle Jan tells me with a straight face, and I look to Anton. I am being royally mind fucked right now.

  Anton huffs at his statement. “He is a fucking liar, Natasha. There are e-mails from him to the assassin. He did this, and he is trying to save his life, or possibly traitorous fucking face in front of you.”

  Oh my god, he has proof? So, my uncle tried to kill the equivalent of the queen? And then what, who would take over? I am his only living relative, so when my uncle died, if he was the one who wanted to take over, then what was all of this for? I certainly wouldn't want any of this shit. And there is no one else within our family. It is me and him. That is all that remains of Clan Constantin. Fuck!

  “Get on with it, Anton,” Jan snaps, snapping me back into the moment. “My niece shouldn't have to see this, though.”

  Anton puts his gun back into the back of his head, and I scream out, not knowing what else to do. “Wait!”

  “Wait?” Anton asks with a slight, laugh. He has actually stopped for me, I didn't even know for sure that he would. I think fast, unsure what else to do.

  “A trade, I want a trade. If you don't kill my uncle, I will do anything for you.” I wait for him, watching the wheels turn in his head as he thinks about it. Please, please, just do this. I can’t let my uncle die. Not when I can't sort out who is telling the truth here.

  He puts his gun back in his holster. “You’ll do anything for me?” he confirms with his eyes raking over my body much like the first time we met. A tight dress, a tight-fitting one for the club, may not be the best thing for this situation. I am making it so easy for him, and for myself to become a victim rather than his willing girlfriend. Not that I knew I would walk into this tonight.

  “You, I want you,” he says.

  I am not sure what to think of that, wanting me specifically as a trade for my uncle's life. What exactly does he even mean by wanting me? Because I was pretty damn sure he already had me. “If you accept my terms and come with me tonight, no questions asked; meaning when you leave with me you belong to me and listen to everything I say, I won't kill him,” Anton continues. “There will be no arguments, no second guessing any of my orders. Those are my terms,” he clarifies.

  I sigh, looking down at my uncle. I know he is no saint, that he has done some bad things, but everyone deserves a second chance, and the man I know does not deserve to die like this. If I go with Anton, then my uncle will get me out of whatever I get myself into, I am sure of it. Anton is not the only powerful man in my life.

  As I nod my head, repeating back the terms to Anton and agreeing to them, I can’t believe this man has been visiting me, calling me his girl, driving my body mad under the sheets. It is becoming clearer that I don't know anything about him, only what he has chosen to reveal to me. And all of that could have been lies.

  He gives me a sick smile and takes a step towards forward possessively. “Bernard!” he calls out one of the goon’s names. Before I can react or think, I see him shoot my uncle in the chest and cry out. I am so stupid. How did I not see this coming? Sadly, Anton holds up his end of the bargain. It was not by his hands my uncle was now bleeding from a gunshot wound.

  “The Constantin Clan is going to die with my uncle, how can you just wipe out a Clan like that?” I cry to Anton, trying to get through to whatever sense of humanity he has.

  “No, that's not true. Your sons will be the next leaders of Clan Constantin, Natasha.” He says it so coolly as my uncle slowly dies before me. I dare to rush over to him, taking his hand. I can’t let him die alone, choking in pain, and I need a distraction from what Anton has just implied. I can’t believe this is coming out of a man I was so sure of.

  I can see Jan can’t be saved. My uncle will die tonight. Even if an ambulance were to come, which I know instinctively Anton and his goons would not allow, they would not be able to help him by the time they got here. No, he is gone, and I can't stop crying. I place my hands over his chest and hold pressure there trying not to think about how my life will go from now on, how my life might as well be just as over as my uncle’s.

  Through his pain and my tears, I see my uncle give me a sad half smile. “I didn't mean for things to get so complicated,” he tells me, like an apology for dying. I cry and cradle his head with my other hand. I am a strong woman. I don't cry, but this man is my family.

  “We need to go,” Anton snaps at me, and I look up at him in defiance and anger. That is another reason to cry. The man I thought I was starting to build something with has turned into a monster right before my eyes.

  “I agreed to listen to you after we left,” I fire back hoping my words spear him like a hot poker. “It doesn’t fucking look like we’ve left yet,” I add through gritted teeth. I turn back to my uncle, and I see his breathing is becoming jagged now. It’s a rough rattle, and his lungs are filling with blood. It won’t be long now before he is drowning in it. What a sick way to go, and I don't even know if he’s done the thing Anton accuses him of. I don't see the proof. I don't know the circumstances. I just know I am holding a dying man in my arms.

  “Go, Tasha,” Jan tells me in a gurgling voice, and I shake my head in protest. That is not happening, not yet.

  “I am not going to let you die alone, Jan, not after everything you have done for me. I want to thank you…for everything you have done in my life. For making me believe in myself and for protecting me when no one else was willing to or could. For making me the strong woman that I am.” I whisper the last part as the tears fall like rain from me. I am a little ashamed to cry in front of the monsters that have done this to my uncle, but he was there for me after my mother died, he was there for me when I was older and needed safety and guidance in life when my father refused to be. He has been more of a father to me then my very own.

  Things with my father have always been so complicated. I always had nannies watching over me, and then I was shipped off to boarding schools when I was old enough. I didn't feel like I had parents, with one dead, and my father just not being much of a father. I was lucky to see him four times a year. But then, Jan stepped in. He let me live with him, he gave me the love and attention that I was craving. I knew he was into bad things like my father, but he was mine, and I was his. I rub the back of his head like I would a small child in comfort, and I realize what it is I have to do.

  My purse has fallen off my shoulder, and I eye it there next to me, knowing I have a little bit of mercy waiting for him inside of it. I could use it on my captors too, but I won't do that. I am not a killer, and I think there may be a tiny part of me that hopes this whole thing is a big misunderstanding with Anton, that I won't have to hate him for all eternity.

  I pull out my gun. It’s just a small one I keep on me for protection. It's not going to be my salvation today, but it will be for Jan. I look into his eyes and nod, so he knows what I am doing. I can see the pleading in his eyes. I aim for his head, shooting straight and true. He is dead in an instant, no more pain. It’s better than drowning in his own damned blood.

  I stand up after putting my gun away in my purse, pretending not to notice that all the men in the room have their eyes on me in amazement, or possibly shock. They must not have seen that coming. Whether it was because I killed my own uncle or the fact that I had a gun, I don't know. I don't really give a damn. But I do know one thing. I have felt it a few times before, but now I know it with every part of me. I am just like my father. And maybe that will serve me well once I am taken out of the place I used to feel was home.

  I see Anton's eyes, those dark pools, assessing me again as a piece of meat. He thinks he is a wolf, licking his lips about to pounce on his dinner. He
hasn't got a clue about how I am not going to make this easy. There are ways I can fight this, that I can make him suffer even if I still keep our lousy agreement. It makes me sick the way he is looking at me in this dress.

  I step up to him real close, making sure he sees I am not afraid to look him in the eyes. “You made me do that,” I tell him coldly, little emotion in my voice. I just want him to know, to make it clear that I have no respect and no attraction to him right now. That I blame him for this.

  “Grab her purse,” he barks at the nearest goon, and I roll my eyes as it is whisked away by a man much too large to take seriously while carrying the small silver bag. There is no reason for laughing, though.

  As the door opens, I don’t dare look back. I am not going to cry over my uncle anymore or over the home I am leaving behind, possibly for the last time. I am going to be strong now because I will need that strength for what is to come.

  Not wanting to risk being dragged or carried, I follow Anton without a word or movement of protest. The goons flank me to be sure I won't run, but I think Anton knows I won’t. I am smarter than that, and as I get in the car, my thoughts are on Bethany and my father and what they will think of this if they ever find me.

  CHAPTER 6

  Death ends a life, not a relationship. - Mitch Albon

  Natasha

  As I scrub my hands under the tepid water of the sink, I am not sure how many times I have been in here since we boarded the plane. Anton’s car took us to his private jet, no surprise, though we are alone. It must mean his goons are either locale-specific or he makes them fly commercial. You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats those under him. Heh, what a fucking joke that is. I am included in that statement.