Hidden Heat (Brothers of Mayhem #1)

by Carla Swafford

  “Hi to you.” She felt her smile rivaled his. “I have to say it was an eye-opener.” They had gone to sleep after dawn, and she felt too rested for it to be the same day. Had they slept so soundly for twenty-four hours? “What time is it?”

  He glanced over at the window. “I’d say around three o’clock.” So roughly six hours. Wonderful. They had what was left of the day to do want they wanted. She hadn’t felt this cared for in a long, long time. How would she sleep when he left and never came back?

  Refusing to think about the whenever, she looked again at the sunlight coming through the window. It obviously faced west and the setting sun.

  His hips began a slow pump. “How do you feel?” His dark-blue eyes watched her face.

  She exhaled. “You want to talk now?” Her body, languid and satisfied, tingled with a need for more as he lifted her hips for the right angle.

  He chuckled and then set the pace. She decided to merely hold on and enjoy. Her eyes closed for a few seconds as she followed each withdrawal and push. When she opened her eyes, she soaked in the way his half-closed eyes glittered with smugness. Then her eyelids drifted closed as she climaxed again.

  After a few blissful moments, she peered up at him and smiled. His return grin caused her heart to flutter. To actually flutter. She never thought love could do that. He rolled onto his side, taking her with him. He remained semi-hard inside her. They dozed.

  She woke with his thumb tracing her lips. He was hard again and began to ease in and out, savoring the feeling.

  He chuckled.

  “What? Do I have drool on my face?” She brushed strands of hair off his forehead and then ran her hand down his arm. The tattoos were a mixture of symbols and Celtic designs, solid to his wrist. The other arm had the same sort of designs but included a Chinese tiger. She loved the wildness of his tats, yet they flowed with a sort of order and calmness. Kind of like him.

  “No. Just thinking how amazing you are,” he said in a sleep-roughened voice.

  “You already know I’m a sure thing,” she teased. Admittedly, she liked it when he sweet-talked her.

  His leisurely thrusts stopped.

  He cupped her cheek and made certain her gaze met his. “I mean it. You probably lived in fear for your life while growing up. I know your old man killed your mom. When Mitch took you in, you had lived a few months with other foster parents, separated from your brother. It had to be tough dealing with all that by yourself.”

  He probably didn’t know that Mitch hadn’t wanted her, but Janet had decided it was only right. Storm was having a hard time adjusting to their home. He kept asking for her. It was difficult knowing that no one had really wanted her but her brother. That was why she had a hard time dealing with his behavior the other night. She understood boys grow up and want their independence. But what about her? What would happen to her now?

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I just wanted to let you know I knew about your dad and all.” He leaned down and lightly kissed her. His hips moved, reminding her that he was still part of her.

  “I don’t really like talking about Easy.” She tried to roll away, but he pulled her tighter to his chest.

  “Shh. Pretend I didn’t say anything.” He kissed the side of her neck.

  He didn’t understand about Easy. Since the day they arrested him for her mom’s murder, she’d refused to call the man Dad. Really, he’d never acted like one. No hugs, presents, or even smiles. She and Storm were treated like baggage, inconvenient responsibilities that the government expected unconventional parents to give a certain amount of care. They were in trouble from social services as much as from drugs and stolen property.

  Maybe that was why she and Storm were closer than most siblings. They had to look out for each other. Like now, when his dream of being part of the Brothers might land him in prison.

  “When this is all over, are you arresting only Stonewall, Trick, and a couple of the higher-placed Brothers? You know, like Mac and Jabber?” How obvious could she be? Would she never learn to keep her mouth shut?

  He glanced down. She released him, smoothing her hand over the half moons her nails had left on his arm, and pressed her lips to the deepest.

  He hugged her to his chest. His tone was even and straightforward. “I have to do my job. Anyone who I witness breaking the law will be arrested. So far that is all of the Brothers at the home chapter and several of their associates.”

  “What about Storm? He wants to be a member so bad. He’s done a lot for Stonewall. I hate to even think what.”

  Thorn was quiet for a few minutes, his gaze searching her face. From his guarded expression, he knew what Storm had done, and believed she did too. Did he think she was playing him? Oh, God, please let him believe her.

  She felt his soft cock slide out. An urge to protest dissipated in fear.

  He turned away and stripped off the condom.

  “I’m sorry. But if I see Storm break the law, I have to report it to Dean.”

  Her throat thickened. “But he’s a juvenile.”

  Thorn looked at her with such sadness.

  “Sorry, Cass, but he turned eighteen when we were at the beach.”

  She’d forgotten. When was the last time she’d missed her brother’s birthday? Covering her face with her hands, she exhaled in disgust. No wonder everything was going wrong. She was a horrible sister.

  He stretched his body over hers without touching, his nose inches from hers. “He got what he wanted for his birthday. He’s a prospect now.”

  His male scent almost had her drifting off to less stressful things, but she grimaced and said, “Is there anything I can do to persuade you to look the other way for Storm’s sake? He could live with me, and this time I’ll make sure he doesn’t get in any trouble. I’m sure Mitch would help. He thinks the world of him.”

  He ran his hand down to her neck, brushing the artery beneath the ear. She wondered if her heart had stopped beating as she held her breath.

  “No.”

  She blinked, unable to believe what she heard.

  “Have I ever asked for anything?” She caught one eyebrow lifting as he lay back and threw an arm over his eyes. “Admit it. You were the one insisting on helping me. I kept telling you that I could handle all of it by myself. If you—”

  “You’re right,” he said, interrupting her, but she continued, not registering what he’d said.

  “—hadn’t tried to be the hero—” She stopped and glared at him.

  He dropped his arm. His eyes shifted, looking at her without turning his head. “Because Stonewall knew I was lying about our relationship, he decided to teach us both a lesson. He wants you to himself.” Changing the subject would be best. He wasn’t sure he could save Storm. The teenager was in too deep.

  “Stonewall? Me? Oh, hell no. Why do you keep saying that? I can’t stand the son of a bitch.”

  Thorn reached for her, but stopped when pounding on the front door floated upstairs.

  “Stay here.” He sat on the side of the bed and thrust his legs into the nearby jeans. Without bothering with a shirt and shoes, he trotted down the steps.

  —

  Thorn opened the door and Angel pushed his way through followed by two of his cronies with their black jeans drooping and chains hanging off their belts. He was tempted to step on a dragging pant leg and watch them face-plant on the floor.

  “Sure. Come on in.” Thorn kept a hand hidden at his back. He’d picked up his Beretta M9 pistol from a kitchen drawer on the way to the door. “What can I do for you assholes?”

  “That’s no way to talk to guests in your home. You were taught better than that.” The grin Angel shot him warned he wasn’t there to reminiscence about old times.

  “Guests? More like intruders. They shoot intruders in Alabama. That’s the law.”

  One black eyebrow lifted at that. “You would know all about the law, hey, amigo?”

  Thorn studied Angel’s face for a moment. “I know
enough to keep me out of trouble.” Was he the one who started the rumors? If he knew something and planned to use it, it could mean Thorn’s death.

  Working out the problem in his mind, Thorn strolled over to one of the chairs next to the bar that divided the kitchen from the living area. For now, he’d hope for the best and wait to see how his old buddy played it out. As he passed the stairwell, he caught sight of a movement a few steps closer to the top. He hoped to God that she stayed out of view. He had no idea what Angel was up to, and it would be hard protecting her with two other men in the room. He moved the high-back chair to one end of the bar, closer to the wall, and sat down, placing the gun on the granite next to him. “What do you want?”

  Angel sauntered over to the refrigerator, opened the doors, and reached inside without a word. He hooked three longneck bottles of beer and handed one to each of his buddies, saving the last for himself. He twisted off the cap and downed a long swig.

  With a disgusted look toward the ceiling, Thorn remained quiet as he eyed the small camera in the vent. He’d switched them on when he stepped into the kitchen for the gun.

  “I asked politely for help and you ignored me. I haven’t heard one word from Stonewall. This is not a good way to treat an old friend.” Angel upped the bottle and downed another long swallow.

  “You didn’t listen to me. I said I didn’t have any influence over Stonewall. I told him what you said. If he didn’t call you, it was because he didn’t want the deal.” Thorn and Angel had been friends as kids, but Thorn knew that wouldn’t dissuade Angel from throwing a punch in anger.

  Doing his best to watch Angel while keeping the other men in his peripheral vision, Thorn struggled to figure out a way to get them to leave without attacking. Knowing Cass, she would get herself hurt trying to save him.

  “That’s not what I wanted to hear.” Angel nodded. One of his companions headed straight for the stairway.

  “Stay the fuck back!” Thorn raised the gun, but just then Angel slammed a spatula crosswise over his wrist. If it wasn’t broken, there would be a hell of a bruise. He dropped the gun. Angel threw his fist and caught Thorn at the temple.

  Thorn staggered. The man had been lucky with the hit, as it took a split second for Thorn to regain his balance. By then, the gang member had reached the stairwell and disappeared. Suddenly a loud hollow pop sounded from overhead.

  “Cass!” He ran to the stairs. Before he reached it, Angel’s man rolled down the staircase in a loose ball of limbs to the bottom. Blood pumped from a thin cut on his forehead that was quickly becoming a large, purple goose egg.

  Following at a leisurely pace, Cass reached the living room. She held a bat over her shoulder. Where the hell did she get that? If not for Angel having his gun, he’d be overjoyed to see her holding it.

  “Put the fucking bat down,” Angel warned. He lifted Thorn’s gun.

  “Do as he says, Cass. He won’t hurt you.” At least, he hoped not.

  “I don’t think so.” She narrowed her eyes. Damn, she was beautiful when she was mad. That was what had gotten to him the other day. She was so gutsy.

  But at the moment, he needed her to calm down before Angel did something they all regretted.

  The second gang member shoved Thorn with all his might. Thorn tried his best to stop his forward momentum, not wanting to land on her. He twisted and reached for the bat, knocking her off her feet. Unexpectedly, she let go. In a fluid motion, he swung the bat, grazing the side of the man’s head. The man folded like a wet paper towel.

  Quickly, he crawled over to where Cass was laid out on the floor.

  “Are you okay, sugar?” He gathered her into his arms, dropping the bat.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  If she was hurt, he would break every bone in Angel’s body, childhood friend or not.

  “Loosen up some. I can’t breathe.” Her words were muffled with her lips pressed to his chest.

  “Sorry.” He eased up and looked into her eyes. Her pupils looked normal. “You’re all right?”

  “Yes. I might have a bruised butt.”

  “I’ll kiss it for you later.” He fought a smile, but lost.

  “Don’t let me stop you.” Angel stood over them, the gun in his hand hanging at his side, his grin bright in his tanned face.

  Without a second thought, Thorn released Cass and bounded to his feet. Still a little dizzy from the temple hit, he threw a punch at Angel. It sent them both down to the floor, wrestling in an attempt to get the upper hand. Thorn heard the gun fall and slide as it clanked against furniture along the way. Thank goodness Angel had left the safety on. They bumped hard into the legs of a coffee table, sending it to the side with a crash.

  “Stop it! Don’t make me shoot one of you in the ass! I said stop fighting!” The words spoken in a shaky voice by Cass slowly registered in Thorn’s brain. He managed to glance around Angel’s shoulder to see her standing, holding the gun with two hands and waving it in their direction.

  “Fuck it, Angel. Cass is royally pissed and standing over us with my gun.”

  “Maybe she’s tired of your sorry ass and tiny dick.”

  “What would you know about my dick? That’s right. The time we skinny-dipped at the Nichols’ farm, you sure did stare at it a lot. Even at six years old, mine was twice the size of yours.”

  “That was fucking cold water. Hell, you were still sitting down to pee. I had to show you how to hold it so you wouldn’t piss on your shoes.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Don’t you wish, but I’ll never give up pussy.”

  “You two have got to be kidding me,” Cass said, standing over them, disgust clear in her voice.

  Thorn and Angel turned toward her. She shook her head and walked up the stairs. A door slammed and the walls actually shook.

  Angel started laughing. “Oh, man, I’m sure glad not to be in your shoes. With or without piss.”

  Without hesitation, Thorn rammed his fist into Angel’s face.

  “Get your men the fuck out of my house before the police show up.” Seeing the blood streaming from Angel’s nose, Thorn felt a good bit of satisfaction. No one endangered Cass and got away with it. Regaining his feet, he headed toward the stairs and a long night of asking for forgiveness. “I’ll tell Trick your offer. He might be able to sway Stonewall.”

  Thorn hated the thought of his former friend being part of the bust at the end of the operation, but those were the breaks. With that and the thought of Angel’s crooked nose, he shook his head and howled with laughter all the way up the steps.

  Chapter 17

  “You’re full of shit, Mr. Savalas.” Cassidy frowned as Thorn stepped into the bedroom laughing his head off. “I don’t know what you think is so funny, but you and that crazy man downstairs are nuts.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Aw, Cass, I didn’t mean to make you mad, baby. I believe Angel had to act tough in front of his men. He knew I’d never allow anyone to come up here and touch you. You’re mine.”

  The feminist in her wanted to protest, but the woman melted with the knowledge he cared enough to protect her. He’d proven that over and over again. Though he now knew she could protect herself if necessary.

  “Couldn’t he just come alone to talk with you?” She snuggled against the warmth of his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat.

  “Hmm, you’re probably right. I’d say he’s under pressure from his prez to work out a deal with the Brothers. One thing about the Thirty-Second gang, they try to find other ways of making money without putting pressure on their neighborhood. The people are too poor to support them.” His chest rose and fell with a sigh. She felt his lips against the top of her head.

  “Do you think your uncle will help you out?” She wrinkled her nose at the thought of Trick. The man was creepy. “With a close friend like Stonewall, why hasn’t he joined the club?”

  “No one can serve two masters.”

  That surprised her. Quoting the Bible, just like a true Souther
n boy. Not that she knew a lot about religion, but when she was a kid, she loved catching the van that came around and took kids to the local church. They always had the best snacks and fun games to play. She’d enjoyed coloring the most. It broke her heart when she turned twelve and couldn’t ride on it anymore.

  “I thought he was the patriarch.”

  “Yeah, for the Savalas family in Alabama, but the big guy is my great uncle who lives in Georgia. He’s no one to mess with. If Trick joined the Brothers of Mayhem, he’d be kicked out of the family’s business and lose everything.”

  “Is that what happened to your parents?”

  His blue eyes turned dark, filled with anger and pain.

  “Yeah. Sort of. They hadn’t joined a club, but Dad had refused to cheat, lie, and steal as our family tradition required. He was lucky and found a job in construction, but traveling around was rough on us.” His hand ran down along her arm. He clasped her fingers, drew them to his mouth, and kissed each one.

  The man was smooth, pulling her attention away from what he’d had left unsaid. She’d heard the hurt in his tone. Being taken as a kid from the familiar surroundings and the only home he’d known was something she could relate to. She brought his hand down and pressed her lips to the back, where thick veins ran along the masculine length. A man’s hand. Rough calluses exhibited his willingness to do what needed to done. She loved every vein, callus, and tattoo on this man. Closing her eyes for a second, she savored the thought. She loved this man. This good man.

  With little resistance, she placed his palm over a breast and held it there until he cupped and lightly squeezed. A little wiggle of her butt helped provide enough room to reach his zipper. With no underwear to hamper what she was after, she lifted out his cock. Another wiggle and she moved down enough for her lips to cover the silky head. The taste that was uniquely him filled her mouth as she opened wider. When her hand reached for the tight spheres beneath, he shifted, giving her plenty of room.

  He was gorgeous, long enough to make her happy, wide enough to impress, and hard enough to satisfy every need.

  “Baby.”