ZACK (The Beckett Boys, Book Five)

by Olivia Chase

  “You’re a dick,” Jamison says. “This is going to go in the paper, and their reputation is going to suffer.”

  I tip my beer can at him and wink. “Shit happens, dude.”

  “And you take pleasure in that. Pathetic,” he says.

  I eye my brother, whom I haven’t seen in months. It’s like looking at a stranger. He’s tanned from working outside. He has a wedding ring on, a simple gold band that reinforces the permanency in his change. I don’t know this man. I tell myself I don’t care about him either, or his defection to our cousins’ side. “Outlaws should suffer. They’re cheating us out of what’s rightfully ours.”

  He sneers. “So you’re really okay lying and stealing and hurting others to get something you’re actually not entitled to? Ever cross your mind that maybe Butch is lying about it?”

  The anger starts in my gut and spreads throughout my chest. “Fuck you. You’re not even my brother as far as I’m concerned, so why do I give a fuck what you think about any of this? You’re Smith’s bitch now. Real macho, showing up here and claiming to broker peace when you just came over to talk shit about us.” I lean forward and plant my hands on the table, letting myself get good and worked up. “If you’re not more careful with the stuff you say to me, Jamo, you’re not going to walk out of here in one piece.”

  In response, Jamison just raises a brow. The casual gesture in response to my threat infuriates me even more. I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples.

  “You think I’m afraid of you? I’m not afraid. I pity you.” He scrubs his clean-shaved chin and eyes me. “The way you’re going, Zack, you’ll never get a hold of Outlaws. And even if you do manage to, by some ridiculous miracle, you’ll never make it a success—that place will be run in the ground in three months, tops. Smith and his brothers have worked their asses off to make that bar stay open and earn a profit. You guys don’t have it in you to do even half that level of work.”

  His words, his lack of faith in me, feel like a knife in my gut, but I refuse to show the effect. I struggle to keep my words even. “You have no fucking idea what I’m capable of.”

  “What the hell do you guys know about the merit of an honest day’s work, huh? Do you know how many hours go into making a business run? I’m not even a manager, but I work my ass off at the construction site to do my part. I can’t fathom how much my bosses have to do to turn a profit.”

  I scoff. “That’s because you’re a low-grade sucker.”

  “Right. I’m the sucker.” His voice is pitying. “I’m a sucker, and you’re the smart one. The way you’re going, Zack, you’re going to end up in prison, just like Butch. You’re going to be a mini-Butch, wasting your years behind bars, beating people up whenever he tells you to, running scams for whatever shitty profit you can scrounge, all in order to sustain a reputation that no one out in the real world will give two fucks about. No life, no woman, no family. Sounds super smart, doesn’t it. You’re right—I’m the sucker here.”

  Now I really want to punch that smug look off his face. That look that says I’m a loser. “Fuck off,” I say hotly. I’m almost vibrating with my anger. “Get the fuck out of here, now. We’re not interested in anything you or those assholes have to say. Get out of this house and don’t ever come back.”

  Jamison tilts his head and rises from the table. “Good luck.” He leaves without a backward glance.

  The front door slams and then silence.

  I sit there for a long moment, seething, fists clenched. I’m angry. Furious, in fact.

  And hurt. His words cut me right to the core.

  My head is throbbing with a killer headache. My skin is tight, itchy. I need to get out of here. I need fresh air. I need…I need salvation. Escape.

  I need her.

  I grab my keys and stalk to the door.

  “You okay?” Hudson asks, but I don’t reply, just slam the door shut behind me. I can’t speak right now. I can’t think. Jamison’s words keep slamming through my head.

  No life.

  No woman.

  No family.

  Who the fuck does he think he is? Now that he’s holier-than-thou, a working stiff, he just comes into my home, telling me what he thinks I should be doing. Telling me that I’m a dead end with no hope. Fuck that.

  My anger is a living being, festering in my gut. The drive to Autumn’s apartment goes fast—when I pull in the parking lot, I realize I didn’t even check first to see if she’s home. If she isn’t, I’m fucking parking my ass outside her door until she is. I need to see her. I need to touch her.

  I need to fuck her. Hard.

  I rap on her door. A few moments later, she opens it, and her face is radiant with surprise. She’s wearing a pair of low-slung yoga pants and a cotton top. “Hey, you okay?” she asks with a frown, clearly registering my rage.

  I grab her, kick the door closed behind me, then kiss her hard.

  I let all my anger out into that kiss, every ounce of it. She gasps at first, and then her hands are clawing at me and she’s meeting me with her own passion.

  I need to own her. I need to possess her. I need to know that something I touch can be good and pure. That I can make something go right. That I can make someone happy.

  My fingers tear at her clothes, and she rips mine off too. We’re naked and then touching, our hands gripping and our mouths gasping. I bite the apex of her neck, right where the muscle of her shoulder meets the curve, and she groans.

  Her nails dig into my scalp, encouraging me.

  “I need you right now. I need to fuck you.” I pull back to look at her. “And I need it rough. Can you deal with that, princess? Because if not, tell me right now to go.” I just pray she doesn’t. I don’t want to walk away, not when I’m right here, touching her soft skin, smelling her. It would physically hurt to leave.

  Her response is to take my hand and lower it inside her pants to her pussy. She’s already wet.

  That’s all I need. I strip her top off then lift her off her feet, carrying her over my shoulder, into her bedroom. Her squeal gives me the first smile I’ve had in what feels like hours. Maybe all day.

  I drop her on the bed. “Spread your legs apart,” I order her.

  Her eyes drift closed, and she melts into the bed, doing as I command. Fuck, I love how responsive she is. Pushing her pants and panties down off her legs and tossing them to the floor, I can see her slit is already wet in anticipation. I’m going to taste that.

  I go to her closet and pull out a scarf. Tie it around her eyes. She stiffens just for a moment. “You have to trust me,” I say, knowing I don’t sound tender at all. Knowing I need her to give this to me.

  She nods.

  I go back to the living room to grab my jeans, bringing them to the bedroom. Rip the belt out of my jeans loop and wrap them around her wrists, looping them to her headboard. I fucking love the way she looks, bound for me, wet and eager. Her thighs begin to tremble.

  I touch that cunt. God yes, she’s soaked. “You’re a hungry little slut for my cock, aren’t you.”

  Her needy cry feeds my hunger. “Yes.”

  I can’t wait to stuff my cock in her greedy cunt. I roll a condom onto my aching cock and then perch between her thighs. Just let myself take in her beautiful body for a moment. I swat the top of one thigh, then the other, and she jerks in surprise. Her skin gets a lovely pink from my smacks.

  “Open wide for me.” I shift her so her cunt is on display before me, her knees pushed to the side. Then I take a deep swipe with my tongue along her slit, savoring her wetness. Her shudder of pleasure spurs me on. Her lips are parted in anticipation of my next touch.

  I can’t wait. I move on top of her and push my cock in, all the way to the hilt. Her rapid inhalation, the way she shakes beneath me, the part of her lips and her tongue swiping over the sexy curve of her lower lip, they undo me.

  “Yes,” she urges me. Her arms are pulling against the restraints, most likely instinctive as she moves with me. She keeps
her legs open like a good girl, letting me fuck her as deep as I can. Her pelvis slams against mine. “God, yes.”

  I can’t stop. I’m drilling her like it’s the only thing keeping me alive. I grip her breast, rubbing her clit with my other hand. Licking her flesh. Pounding her relentlessly. I need her to shatter for me. To shatter on me. Her orgasm is the only thing I want most in this life.

  Her keening cry as she gets closer makes me more frantic. Her cunt juices are coating my fingers, my dick, and I’m almost dizzy from my arousal. My blood pounds so hard that I can hear it in my ears. I remove my hand from her breast, rip off the scarf from her eyes, and cup the back of her neck, urging her to look at me.

  “I want you to look at me as you come,” I order her. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, princess.”

  She swallows, nods, and her eyes flutter but she keeps them locked on me. And then she’s stiff and she’s crying out, her body frozen beneath mine, her cunt squeezing my dick so tight that I gasp from the pleasure, oh God, she’s so unbelievably tight and I am falling and drowning in her. Her hands clench and unclench in the belted tie.

  She comes for what seems like ages, gushing and soaking me, soaking the bed. It’s so unbelievably hot that my own cock explodes. I spurt and spurt, emptying my balls, my body on fire.

  It takes me a moment for my head to stop floating. But as I come down from my orgasm, I realize the anger I felt earlier is gone. Autumn has a faint smile on her face, her body lax.

  I reach up and undo the belt, then rub her wrists gently.

  Then she wraps her arms around me, cuddling against my body, and I feel an explosion of something in my heart that I’m scared to identify. So I tell myself to focus on how good it feels to hold her. That’s safe. That’s not dangerous territory.

  She presses a small kiss to my sweat-damp chest. “Wow.” Her small laugh makes me smile again. “That…was totally new.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Being tied up?” I can feel her mouth curve against my skin, and I stroke her hair. “Unbelievably so. I felt like I was at your mercy. That you could do anything you want to me and I couldn’t stop it.”

  “And you enjoyed that?” I kiss the top of her head. Smell her shampoo, her skin, soak her in.

  “I knew I could trust you.”

  The simple, generous words threaten to undo me. This woman gets me like no one else has. She looks at me and doesn’t see a loser. She sees me as someone worthy of her. I have an uncomfortable tightness in my throat.

  I don’t know if she’s right in that faith. But fuck, I want her to be.

  “My oldest brother and I aren’t on speaking terms anymore,” I find myself saying against her head. I don’t know why the confession pours out of me. I feel the need to purge. Just a little.

  Her hand strokes my back in a soothing, slow movement that relaxes me. “I’m sorry. That has to be hard.”

  “He and I disagree on…how to handle family business,” I say. I don’t want to expose her to the seediness in my life. I explain to her about the bar and how we’re supposed to be the rightful owners due to our cousins’ father reneging on the contract.

  “I wondered,” she says softly. I feel her tense up just a bit. “So…your dad is the one who told you about this, huh? The stuff with the bar, I mean.”

  I nod. “We’ll get it sorted, I’m sure.” I don’t want her to feel bad for me.

  “Um.” Autumn clears her throat and pulls back to look at me. There’s a wariness in her eyes that instantly has me on edge. “Since we’re talking, I want to tell you what bothered me at the prison last week.” She bites her lower lip. “If that’s okay.”

  My chest gets uncomfortably tight. I have a feeling I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to say. “Shoot.”

  She sits up and slides under the blanket, covering her chest. A strand of hair falls in her face, and she tucks it behind her ear. “My dad is using again. I could tell…and when I confronted him, he admitted it.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, princess.” No wonder she’s so tense right now. That had to be disappointing.

  “He…” She clears her throat. “He says he got the drugs from someone named Butch.”

  The words, delivered quietly, are a punch in the gut. I just lay there, unable to speak. The second big blow I’ve gotten today. What the fuck?

  “He said that. He said Butch.”

  Autumn nods slowly. “And he said that Butch sort of runs the show there at the prison. I mean…could that be your dad?”

  My initial thought is, she’s lying. There’s no way my father would do that. When he started our protection business in our neighborhood all those years ago, it was to keep junk off the street. My dad would never get into that shit in prison, knowing it causes so many problems.

  I sit up and look at her face. Her eyes are sad as she peers back at me. And I know she’s telling the truth—or at least what she believes is the truth.

  “I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head, but the sickness in my stomach is telling me something different.

  My Dad does run shit in the joint. He’s always been a beast, the guy you don’t want to fuck with, the person who finds a way to get what he wants and make sure someone else pays for it.

  “So…” Autumn fidgets with her fingers in her lap as she continues. “Could you…um, please ask your dad to not give my father any more drugs?”

  My brain is screaming, my blood pounding in my whole body. I can’t think. I’m overwhelmed by everything I’m feeling. What the actual fuck? How am I supposed to handle this?

  She reaches over and takes my hand.

  “Zack?” she asks, a tremble in her voice. “I’m sorry, was that bad to ask? I didn’t want to upset you, but…I’m worried about my father. His name is William Haverhill. He wants to get clean, but he’s so scared of your dad—” She stops talking and looks away.

  My stomach is suddenly sick. I want to protect her, desperately. I know this must have been hard for her to ask me. Not to mention I’m fucking furious if this is true—if Butch is selling drugs in prison. It’s like my world is being flipped upside down. What is true anymore? What can I believe in?

  What am I supposed to do? Do I help her at the expense of angering Butch and thus alienating my family? Yet, if he’s selling drugs, how can I possibly support that and claim to have a conscience?

  “Zack?” Autumn’s voice is quiet and she squeezes my hand. “Will you say something?”

  I swallow and withdraw my hand. I’m so fucking conflicted, so ripped up with everything I’m feeling, that I can’t speak. I can’t tell her everything I’m thinking—I don’t want to take my anger out of her. And I don’t want to add to her pain by dumping my own feelings on her.

  Because that anger I felt earlier, the one I tried to escape in her arms, has rushed back at me, full force. The intensity of the emotions I felt because of what Jamison said earlier has doubled. Tripled.

  The walls are closing in on me. I have to get out of here. I need a drink. I need to get away from everyone.

  “I’m…not feeling well,” I tell her. It’s a lame fucking excuse. But I have to leave, now.

  Autumn frowns, touching my cheek. “Are you okay?”

  I stand and put on my jeans. “I need to head out.”

  She sits there and stares at me quietly. I can see emotions flickering on her face. I’m a fucking asshole, but I can’t deal with it right now. I’m drowning in my own feelings.

  I’m so lost, so torn.

  Surely she can’t be right about my dad. Surely he wouldn’t do that. But the worst thing is, there’s a small part of me that knows he could, and he would.

  My dad has always been ruthless. Always been about doing what he thinks is best.

  And truth be told, in prison the code is tougher than out in the streets.

  Butch wouldn’t have let anything stop him from rising in the game, and if that meant controlling the drug trade inside…

  Fuck.
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  I don’t want to shred her apart with my anger and frustration. So I lean over, kiss her brow, struggling to keep my emotions in check, and then I leave.

  “It’s time to stop fucking around,” I tell my brothers over breakfast the next morning. “This Outlaws shit has gone too far, and them sending Jamo over here was the last motherfucking straw.”

  We’re huddled around the kitchen table eating bowls of cereal. None of us felt like cooking, so we’re slurping spoonful’s of Frosted Flakes.

  I haven’t been able to shake off Autumn’s words last night. How she said Butch was dealing in drugs in prison. Until I can confirm it’s true, I don’t want to tell my brothers. No sense in all of us stressing with it.

  As the oldest now, I will deal with it. I’ll find the truth.

  But first, I need to finish our mission to acquire Outlaws, once and for all. Enough of us dicking around.

  Butch was right about that part—what we were doing was just small potatoes. We need to think bigger. We need to fuck shit up in a real, lasting way.

  Last night, while stewing in bed, I had an idea.

  I fill my brothers in on my thoughts. That bullying customers or calling the board of health aren’t enough. Even though that’s going to cause a blow to their clientele, I have a feeling it won’t be enough to force them to close.

  We need to deliver the crushing blow.

  We need to go in and trash the joint. Fuck things up. Make it too expensive for them to fix quickly, forcing them to close down for a while. The loss of income, plus the trouble we’re giving them, should be worth too much for Smith and his brothers to continue.

  As I explain my thoughts, I can see emotions flashing across my brothers’ faces. I know they respect me. But I see a flicker of doubt in Axel’s eyes.

  “What?” I ask him bluntly.

  He spoons a bite of cereal, chewing for a long moment before answering. “I…I’m not sure my opinion matters, but—”

  “Hey, you’re here,” I interrupt. “None of that shit. We need to stand together as a unit. And therefore I need to know what you think.”

  He shrugs. “Well, I question if we really should keep going in this direction. Even if they relinquish the bar, can we run it profitably?” Axel continues speaking, his expression one of uneasiness and confusion. “What do we know about running a restaurant? What if we end up getting it but fuck it up and run it into the ground?”