Ran swallowed the scream that always seemed to be threatening to escape him now. For the last month, the family had gone through the motions – public statements with vows to find Kit’s murderer, the funeral, the avoidance of the media since then. The press was relentless in their search for new angles, for clues. They’d rehashed every story from the last year, and the coverage was blanket. None of the family dared turn on the radio or the t.v.
At the funeral, he’d help to support Bo Kennedy. The young woman, her arm in a sling from being shot in the shoulder, was pale and shell-shocked, her usual merry and gregarious nature smashed by her grief. Ran had liked her very much and asked her to stay with them for a while. She had politely refused. ‘It’s too painful, Ran, at the moment I just want to be with Tiger and my mum. When I see you all – and especially Joel…I can’t. I’d like to in the future, just not now.’
He’d understood as had the rest of the family. Asia, Kit’s ex-wife, had come to the house as soon as the news broke. She was shattered, devastated. Her partner, Parker Thomas, had accompanied her, and Ran had been impressed by the young doctor’s grace and compassion.
‘Hey.’
Ran turned to see Marley smiling at him. He kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘Of course.’
Over the last month, since that day in the coffee house, since she’d chased him down to support him, Marley had been Randall’s rock. The young scientist cancelled plans, put her own life on hold to support him through the worst time in his life. She made herself available twenty-four-seven in case he needed to talk, or to sob. She became his best friend. Ran was also glad that something good had come from the tragedy; Marley and Quilla had grown close again. Not for the first time, Ran realized that the women in his family were the stronger ones.
‘How is it today, one to ten?’ Marley said as they sat down outside on the deck. The day was cool but sunny, and Ran’s dogs ran around, playing, barking, making them smile.
‘Maybe an eight,’ Ran began then saw Marley’s skeptical face and sighed, ‘A ten. I can’t imagine a time when it won’t be a ten. How could it be?’
Marley put her hand on his. ‘I can’t answer that, Ran. But I’m here, so talk to me. Or don’t, entirely up to you. Have you heard anything from the Australian police?’
Ran nodded. ‘From the weapon used, they think it was a professional hit…God...’ He choked on the words. Marley interlinked her fingers with his in a gesture that had become natural between them. Ran drew in a breath. ‘So, they have a few suspects in mind, but I don’t have any doubt who is behind it.’
Marley grimaced. ‘Fisk.’
‘He won’t get away with this, any of it, Quilla, Flori, Kit. We’re throwing everything at the search; I don’t care if it takes every last penny I have. Gregor Fisk is going to pay for what he’s done.’ He looked over at her, unhappily. ‘I am worried that by being here, you’ll be on his radar. Selfishly, though, I could not have gotten through this last month without you, Marley.’
She smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry about me, Ran, I can look after myself.’
He squeezed her fingers but said nothing. Marley tried to say something to comfort him but found herself lost for words. She desperately wanted to take away some of her friend’s pain but had no idea how. The rest of the family was equally fractured. Joel, Kit’s twin, had barely spoken to anyone since Kit’s death, especially not his girlfriend, Nan.
‘He’s pushing me away,’ Nan told her and Quilla, tears rolling down her sweet face. ‘I can’t reach him.’
Quilla was having the opposite problem; Jakob, already paranoid about her safety as Gregor’s obsession with her grew, was now suffocating her. The independent Quilla was having trouble not becoming annoyed at his constant vigilance. ‘He tells me if I can go out or not – well, he tries to. Then when I disagree, it turns into an argument.’ Quilla looked tired. Marley regretted the weeks they had spent distant – it seemed so ridiculous now.
Grady Mallory, the youngest of the brothers, had been the most collected of all of them, quietly supporting his father, his brothers, his nephew. His young girlfriend, Floriana, knew Gregor’s violence first hand having only just survived him herself. She told them that Grady would only drop the façade of calmness at home, with her.
‘I think it does him good to just let go at night, be as vulnerable as the rest.’ Flori had said, and Quilla had hugged her.
‘You do him good,’ she said. The two women, both survivors of Fisk, shared a bond that Marley felt was healthy for them both.
‘I don’t want to think of the fact that he’s out there, planning another murder.’ Ran’s voice brought her out of her reverie.
‘Ran, you’ll drive yourself crazy like that,’ Marley said firmly, and he chuckled softly.
‘You’re right. Stay and have supper with me, Marley?’
She smiled at him. ‘You’ll get tired of me.’
‘Never.’
Grady Mallory came home to find Flori had prepared a romantic dinner for them both, and he smiled gratefully at her. Despite her youth, she had known exactly how to comfort him this last, horrific month. Tonight, she was dressed in a simple pale blue dress that fell to a good three inches above her knees, bare feet, make-up free face and her dark hair tumbling down her back.
‘God, you look beautiful,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her. She grinned up at him.
‘Thank you, baby. I hope you’re hungry.’
Grady kissed her, savoring the taste of her lips. ‘Damn right I am,’ he said, his words loaded with meaning. Flori pressed her body against his.
‘Funny you should say that…’ She hooked a leg around his waist, and he picked her up, her slight body light. ‘I saw my doctor today. Guess what?’
Grady growled, knowing exactly what she was going to say. ‘This supper you’ve made…can it be reheated?’
Flori giggled, her face flushing scarlet, her breath hitching in her throat. ‘You bet it can.’ She shrieked with laughter as Grady whisked her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. She kissed him, her eyes alive with desire, with excitement. ‘I’ve waited so long for this moment,’ she whispered, and Grady chuckled.
‘Me too, so no pressure then….’ He kissed her throat and trailed his lips across her collarbone, making her shiver with pleasure. His fingers found the buttons of her dress and slowly, he undressed her, kissing every piece of skin as he exposed it until she was gasping. When his mouth found her sex, Flori moaned as his tongue lashed around her clit, his teeth grazing the soft peachy folds of her labia.
‘God…Gray…’
He grinned up at her. ‘You’re beautiful, baby…’
He crawled up her body to kiss her mouth as she reached to cup his cock through his jeans.
‘I want to taste you,’ she whispered and grinning, took her turn to move down the bed. Her small, gentle hands freed his cock from his pants and then her warm, wet mouth was on him, sweeping over the wide crest as it grew and hardened, the tip quivering under her teasing tongue. As he grew unbearably hard, he lifted her on top of him, his fingers spreading the labia, exposing her wet and ready vagina for him. As he pushed into her for the first time, they both gave long sighs of release, the waiting for this moment making it even sweeter, smiling and gasping as they make love. Grady ran his hands down over her slender body; the full breasts plump in his hands, the small brown nipples hardening at his touch. The vivid scars from her wounds, from the surgeries, were still bright pink, but he stroked his fingerpads gently over them, sliding his thumb into the deep hollow of her navel. Flori was breathless, her thighs tight against him, her skin dewy with sweat. As their arousal grew, Grady deftly flipped over, sliding her beneath him so he could drive himself ever deeper inside her, her legs clamped around his hips. His hands pinned hers to the bed, and their eyes met and locked. Nothing existed apart from the two of them at this moment, bodies tangled, moving in rhythm.
Grady watched as Flori came,
her lovely face flushing pink, her lips parting as the orgasm hit her. God, you are so, so lovely, he thought and felt his body tense and explode in a hot rush, pumping deep inside her, pleasure making his head whirl.
As they caught their breath, they stared at each other, kissing, not wanting the connection to fade.
‘I am so in love with you, Floriana Morgan,’ Grady murmured against her lips, feeling them curl up in a smile.
‘You are the love of my life,’ she said simply, and Grady grinned.
‘Damn straight.’ He cupped her face in his palm. ‘You make everything better, Flori. Everything. Thank you for this last month.’
‘I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have – that you did do, in New Orleans. That’s why my heart is so sure about you. I’m so glad I met you, Grady Mallory; I would rather take Gregor’s knife over and over than to have never met you.’
Grady winced. ‘Don’t say that, God, please, Flori.’
‘Sorry,’ she looked contrite, ‘that was a poor comparison. What I mean is, it terrifies me to think that we may never have met.’
Grady kissed her. ‘I don’t think that was possible – I would have found you somehow.’
Flori laughed. ‘You think?’
‘Absolutely. No doubt.’
She kissed him. ‘Are you hungry?’
He considered. ‘Not really. You?
‘Me neither.’
Her hand drifted down his body to his cock and he grinned. ‘Ready to go again?’ He rolled on top of her, and she wound her arms around his neck.
‘Always with you….always…’
Quilla barely had time to say hello to Jakob before he was stripping her. He’d been at work all day and had come home angry. She knew he was angry by the way he barked a hello then launched himself at her, kissing her fiercely, his mouth so rough she could taste blood. He’d been like this for weeks, angry, brutal, wanting sex, wanting that release, needing it and Quilla, a little frightened by his machismo, went along with it. After all, she had felt the same thing after Gregor’s attack on her.
Jakob had taken Kit’s death harder than anyone, with the exception of Joel. His guilt, his anger, and grief were palpable in the way he talked, moved. He had the same look in his eyes that he’d had all those months ago, standing on that bridge in Venice, ready to end his life. Quilla was terrified he’d start using again so when he came home, already revved up, she went along with it, letting him fuck her in any way that he wanted to, to get that anger out. Afterward, he would be calmer so she figured, if it helped…
He led her over to the wall to ceiling windows that looked over the city, the Seattle evening, cloudy. He had dimmed the lights and as he pushed her against the window, the glass cold on her breasts, her belly, he took her from behind, thrusting his diamond hard cock into her, clamping her hands to the glass with his own. He fucked hard and fast, slamming his cock into her as deep as he could, groaning her name over and over as he buried his face in her hair.
He took her again almost immediately, sweeping her onto the carpet and thrusting in again. His eyes were almost crazed, and Quilla closed her own so she would not feel afraid of him. Later, after they’d showered and eaten a light supper, she curled up against him on the couch. He kissed her forehead.
‘Are you okay, baby?’ Quilla stroked her husband’s face with her fingertips, smiled when he turned to kiss them.
‘I honestly don’t know, sweetheart. I think I’m pulling it together then by the end of the day; I’ve been thinking about Kit and Gregor and what he’s done to us all, and then I’m so angry. You are the only thing that helps, Quilla. Darling…I’m sorry if I seem to be…I just need you.’
‘You have me,’ she whispered, ‘Forever. Whatever you need, I’m here for.’ She pulled his head onto her chest, wanting to soothe him, pressing her lips against his hair. ‘I love you, husband mine.’
He gave a low chuckle. ‘Is it weird that I can’t believe it’s only a few months that we’ve been married?’
‘I know. This time last year, we didn’t know each other, and now we’re an old married couple.’
‘Pipe and slippers.’
She laughed. ‘Let’s just go to bed, baby; I’ll make you forget everything.’
Later, when Quilla was asleep, Jakob lay awake, fighting his fatigue. He didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want the nightmares that had plagued him for months. They were always the same; Gregor Fisk – or lately, several Gregor Fisks – hurting his family, torturing them, killing them. The worst ones were always about Quilla and when sleep finally overcame him, tonight’s was no different.
They were back on the island, lying on the deck, surrounded by candles, making love, Quilla naked and glorious in the leather harness he loved her in. She was on top of him, smiling down at him as she rode him, looking so, so beautiful that he had tell her over and over how much he loved her. She opened her mouth to answer him…
There was a weird swooshing sound. Quilla gasped and jerked. Jakob, confused, watched in horror as blood started to pour from her navel. Another whoosh. A red wound appeared an inch above the first. Quilla looked confused, scared, her blood, too much blood gushing from her. Another whoosh - another red dot on her honey skin and then he knew. Bullet wounds. Another bullet drilled into her stomach. No no no no…
And then Gregor was there laughing as he shot her again and again as she jerked and cried out. Jakob couldn’t move, couldn’t help her, and couldn’t shout as he watched Quilla being murdered in front of him. Please, no, stop, he wanted to scream at Gregor. Now he understood the whooshing sound – a silencer screwed onto the muzzle of an impossibly big gun. Something in his brain told him this isn’t real; this isn’t real, but when Gregor pressed the muzzle against Quilla’s flesh before bending to kiss her, Jakob finally screamed. Gregor emptied the chamber into Quilla’s body then let her flop, at the brink of death, to the ground. Her lovely eyes were staring sightlessly at him, and he screamed her name over and over as Gregor delivered his final blow, a bullet to her heart….
‘Jakob! Jakob!’ How was she calling him? She was dead, he knew that and…
‘Jakob, wake up, you’re hurting me, Jakob!’
He opened his eyes and, with a start, realized Quilla, very much alive, was struggling underneath him. He had pinned her, wrapping his thickly muscled arms around her body, and was squeezing her so tightly she was struggling to breathe. He let her go immediately, devastated, begging her forgiveness.
Eventually, she calmed him down, holding him gently, stroking his head. She managed to coax the truth about his nightmares out from him, and although she paled at the description of her murder, she told him calmly over and over that it wasn’t real. She made him get in the shower, cool down his overheated body then made him a drink, scotch, the way he liked it. Wrapped in her robe, she sat with him until he had truly calmed down.
Jakob stroked her face. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, baby, you know I would never do that consciously.’
‘I do know that I swear. But I think you should see someone, a therapist. Despite my reservations, it really did help me.’
Jakob smiled. ‘I know it did but I’m not sure I’d be so receptive.’
‘Why not?’
‘Too cynical. Too jaded.’
‘Bullshit,’ she said with a smile. ‘If the next thing that comes out of your mouth is ‘too old,' I will beat your ancient ass.’
He laughed, gratefully for her trying to lighten the mood. ‘I will think about it, I swear.’
Quilla nodded. ‘Good.’
His phone, abandoned on the counter when he’d come in, began to buzzed. He accepted the call, checking the time. Three-o-five a.m. He frowned.
‘Hey Dad, what’s up?’
He listened as his dad spoke, his jaw setting grimly. ‘Yeah. Okay, I’ll meet you there.’
Quilla raised her eyebrows at him as he ended the call and he nodded at her. ‘Sweetheart, let’s get packing. We’re going to Australia. They’ve got
the shooter.’
Nan watched Joel packing, throwing clothes haphazardly into a bag. He didn’t look at her as he relayed to her what his father had told him. ‘It might be best for you and Hayley to go to the big house while we’re away. There’s more security. Hank will drive you to work and back.’
Nan nodded, her chest tight. ‘I could come with you – ‘
‘No. I don’t want you dealing with all that. Better you and Hayley are safe. Skandar will be back on Saturday from the tournament.’
Nan was silent for a time, not trusting herself to speak. Joel had been distant, withdrawn since Kit’s murder, the grief written all over his face. Nan felt him slipping away from her daily; they hadn’t made love since before the shooting, and he spent long hours at the construction site for his first sports center. They would eat in silence, Nan having given up asking him about his day. It was only when they were sitting down together, reading of watching the t.v. that she felt any closeness. He would hold her hand for a time, or leave his arm across the back of the couch, so his fingers stroked her hair but after a time, again, when they went to sleep, Nan felt cold and lonely.
Now, he didn’t want her with him in Australia. She got up and went into the kitchen to hide the tears that were threatening. A few escaped as she grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap.
‘What’s wrong?’
She turned to find Joel watching her from the doorway. She put down her glass and tried to smile. ‘Nothing. Can I help you pack?’
‘It’s done. Nan…’ he came to take her in his arms. ‘Please, I don’t mean to be like this. I’m trying to hold it together for my dad, my family, and if I get emotional…I think I might break. I love you, Nan, please just…bear with me.’
She gazed up at him, smoothed the frown lines between his eyes. ‘I can help you relax,’ she whispered and pressed her lips to his. She felt him respond briefly then pull away.
‘I can’t, I’m sorry. Look, I’ll call you when we get to Sydney. Take care of yourself – don’t go anywhere without Hank or Gus.’
Montgomery Billionaire Series Page 114