The Deal (The Fallen Angel Series Book 1)

by S C Cunningham

  Seagulls circled above his building, squawking in the sunshine. As they caught his eye, he smiled, marvelling at their effortless dips and dives through the blustery sea air. They looked so beautiful with their white feathers glimmering in the sun.

  More birds came, and more, circling outside the window. The young boy, lay terrified, watching them. Jack and Amy also stared, mesmerised as more and more birds came; circling, dipping, diving, screeching, shouting abuse at Dio through the window. It was as if they had been an audience to his vile actions before, that they knew the monster’s deadly deeds.

  Dio made the mistake of laughing at them.

  A huge bird dived first, smashing his head into the window and bouncing off, his beak leaving a tiny spec of bloodied saliva on the gleaming glass. Then more and more came. Again and again, beaks smashed into the glass, covering it in red, slushy fluid.

  Dio’s laughter turned to anger. They’d dirtied his pristine place, ruining his view. He stared at the mess and cursed the birds.

  “You bastards! Fuck off! Shoooo…shooo,” he threatened, waving his scalpel at the window.

  They ignored him. More birds joined in, so many that they blocked out the sky and darkened the room. The birds circled the building. Their calls climaxed into a deafening, screeching orchestra, drowning out the melodic notes of soothing classical music pumping through the apartment. Feathered bodies blocked the sun. The sky transformed into a black veil of thunder, clouds alive and moving. The room chilled.

  Dio, incensed, stepped closer to the window, waving the scalpel, shouting, trying to frighten them off.

  “Fuck off, you bastards, fuck off.”

  But the birds continued to swirl, round and round, scraping their bodies, beaks, and claws against the glass, shitting, spitting, hitting his window.

  The boy on the table lay transfixed as Dio became angrier and angrier. The wild seagulls shat all over his beautiful balcony.

  “Fuck off, you dirty, disgusting creatures.”

  He slammed his fist angrily against the window, attempting to frighten them off, scalpel still in hand.

  “Shhooooo…shooooo, you dirty vermin. Get away from my building.”

  As he waved his arms in the air, lunging at the window, Amy put her foot out, catching his shoe. He fell to the ground, his full body weight slamming to the cold floor, landing on his right hand, the hand holding the scalpel.

  Its slim blade struck deep into the base of his cock, wedged tightly between him and the cold floor. He screamed out in pain.

  Amy laughed. “Now you know what it feels like, you bastard.”

  “Urgh…Amy, is that necessary?” moaned Jack, grabbing his cock in sympathy. “Did you have to cut him there?”

  “It’s not my fault. It’s the birds. He fell.”

  The screeching abruptly stopped. Amy and Jack looked out the window, the seagulls had dispersed as fast as they had arrived, except for a few stragglers calmly circling as if nothing had happened, letting their agile bodies effortlessly lift and dip in the warm gusts of sea air.

  “Mission accomplished, then. Thank you, boys,” said Jack, saluting them.

  Hearing the click-click of claws on marble, Amy turned to catch Connor standing in the doorway, smiling and panting, his tail slowly wagging from side to side. He gave her a long knowing stare, turned and padded out down the corridor. She watched him leave. I love that dog.

  As if hearing her, Connor looked back over his shoulder and gave her a nod of the head before disappearing through a plastic wall. She smiled and shouted after him.

  “Thank you Connor, the birds did good.”

  Jack turned to see his furry tail disappear.

  “Hey, was that Connor? He’s a legend. I’ve heard about him. You got yourself a new partner already, Ames,” he teased.

  “He is pretty cool, isn’t he? I’ll ask him to look after you ’til I get back,” she said, leaning over to check on the boy. Jack winced with the jarring reminder of her leaving. Amy caught his flinch and bit her lip. This is so fucking unfair.

  Turning her attention back to the young boy, she rested her hand on his forehead, instantly calming him. He closed his eyes and his face relaxed with relief. His breathing normalized for the first time in months. Tears filled the corners of his eyes.

  “It’s OK. You’re safe now,” whispered Amy. He gave a small smile.

  Jack put a call into Pyke.

  “Mate, you’d better get the boys in blue here quick if you want Dio to squeal. Amy’s just sliced his dick off. He had a hard on at the time, and he’s bleeding out.”

  “What? How the hell did that happen? I thought I told you not to do anything drastic, for god’s sake. His balls? Amy!” Pyke sighed, grabbing his own balls in sympathy.

  “I know,” squirmed Jack. “A Bobbitt cut. She has no respect.”

  “OK, am on it. They’re on their way.”

  Amy and Jack leaned against the wall, watching the police, ambulance, fire services, and forensic crews arrive. Paramedics patched Dio up in time to survive the deep laceration to his penis.

  “He deserved it, hon. If he behaved like a dick, he gets karma via his dick, I say.”

  Jack smiled, watching a few coppers wincing at the sight of all the blood.

  “OK, time to go back. I’m gonna miss you Amy Fox. I love you.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Cloud 9

  “You have to let her go,” Maggie followed Jack into the restroom; he was leaning over the sinks, staring into the mirror. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “I love her, Maggie.”

  “I know. We both do, and that is exactly why we need to protect her, keep her safe until we work out how to curtail Gregori’s threat.”

  “Can I go with her?”

  “Not when she’s here under false pretences. A Witness had her killed before her time. There’s a clause in our contracts that sends her back.”

  “That Witness killed me also.”

  “But Gregori didn’t have you killed. Mara did that alone. He’ll be able to slime out of blame. At that stage, he hadn’t connected the dots to her being mine, but he did have Amy killed. There was intent. He used Mara to kill her, to bring her here before her time. Then he got Mara in here to cause trouble. I don’t know how, or if he killed Mara, but she could be sent back also.”

  “Will Amy remember any of this? Remember us?”

  “No, life will carry on as if nothing happened. She won’t remember a thing.”

  “So, I have to watch her from afar and see her live a life without me.”

  “Yes… until we find a solution. Be strong, Jack, for her, for all of us.”

  “What about the jobs she’s worked on, will they be cancelled?”

  “Only the ones she worked on alone. I guess there are a few of those. Pyke will salvage what he can. She wasn’t very good at being obedient.”

  With tears building in her eyes, Maggie turned him towards her, held his face in her hands, and whispered.

  “Take her home, Jack.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Kensington Apartments,

  Knightsbridge, London, UK

  Stricken with fear, covered in sweat, Amy shocked herself out of her troubled sleep and sat bolt upright in the bed, awakening as if she’d been asleep for weeks. Had she been that tired?

  Taking a few deep breaths, she waited for her heart to still and flopped back down on the cool sheets. Relief replaced an underlying fear when she realized she’d only been dreaming, but it had seemed so real, even if she couldn’t remember any details about the dream, or what subconscious message she’d conjured up in her sleep. She rolled onto her side, tucked her hand under the pillow, and nuzzled her head into its cool, soft, luxury. With a contented moan, she snuggled deeper under the duvet and dozed. It was just a dream.

  The duvet’s warmth began to stifle her. She extended her leg, poking her fo
ot out from underneath the covers where it hung over the edge of the mattress and enjoyed the morning’s scintillating rush of chilled air…until her toes brushed against something. Shit, what was that?

  It felt like a leg, a hairy leg? Fuck, I’m not alone.

  Her eyes flashed open. She held her breath; keeping very still as panicked senses searched her surroundings. Curtains sealed the room in darkness, shadowing a chaise lounge angled in front of the window. Is that my handbag on the chaise lounge? Are those my clothes strewn across the floor?

  A black-faced digital alarm clock with large white flashing numbers beamed across at her from the bedside table, its bright light burning her eyes. 08.19 hours. Shit, I should be on my way to the office.

  Closing her eyes, she listened for sounds, something to help her get her bearings. The way traffic buzzed outside the window, it had to be morning rush hour, which was good. That meant she was in the city, not in the middle of nowhere. Her ears then detected the soft rise and fall of deep breathing and presumed it came from the leg’s owner, still in a state of slumber. Not good; that meant she’d been sleeping next to someone, sharing someone else’s bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t even remember… I’m too old for this.

  When she lifted her head off the pillow, a blistering headache hit home, piercing the back of her eyes. Urrgh! How much did I have to drink?

  The office parties were renowned for their mayhem. She didn’t recall hooking up with anyone, where she’d been, or how she’d arrived in this strange place. Peering over the duvet toward the end of the bed, she glimpsed at light seeping through a doorframe, outlining her exit point.

  She remained very static, trying not to waken whoever lay next to her. Her head ached, as jumbled images shifted like puzzle pieces from the previous night’s proceedings.

  The party had started with shots. Never a good start.

  Blotchy flashes from her memory and sound-bites teased her brain. She’d been drinking, pub crawling, singing, table-dancing, and manhandling someone in the back of a taxi. But whom?

  Her head thudded with dehydration. She needed to find water and to get out of there.

  Slinking under the duvet, she slid silently to the floor. Naked and on all fours, she crawled around the king-size bed, her knees burning on lush thick-piled carpet. Creeping towards the door, she gathered her belongings; underwear, clothes, bag, shoes.

  She peered over the bed, trying to make out the leg owner’s identity. But whoever the stranger was, the body lay prone, covered in a sea of blue and white striped duvet, the person’s head tucked underneath pillows, as if trying to block out sound.

  Nervously, she braved getting to her feet, and tiptoed to the door. With painstaking quiet, she eased open the handle.

  “Sneaking off without saying goodbye?” came a deep husky voice from beneath the duvet.

  “Errr, sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. I’ve got to get to the office.”

  “That must have been some dream you had…tossing and turning all night.”

  “Errr...sorry,” Amy paused in the open doorway, trying to cover her body with her bag and clothes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  A tussled blonde head peaked out from beneath the duvet, beaming at her. Her heart sank. She didn’t recognise him. Oh fuck, a stranger.

  “Errr… did we…”

  “Yes,” his blue eyes twinkled.

  “Did anyone see us?”

  “Yes, the whole office saw us leave together.”

  “Shit…sorry, I mean…”

  “Don’t worry, this won’t affect work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t remember?” he said, raising a cheeky eyebrow, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Errr…no.” She felt queasier by the second.

  “Well, err, your boss introduced me to you last night. Remember? I’m a new client? You guys are running the marketing campaign for my new Jeans line. But I’ll have a word with him, if you’re worried about it.”

  “And then?”

  “And then you took me home and ravaged me,” he said, a smile taking the sleepy look off his face. “Now come to bed. We’ve got unfinished business.” He pulled back the bed clothes exposing his naked, very excited, very toned, very beautiful body. Oh fuck, he’s gorgeous.

  Amy stood in the doorway, hovering between being good or being bad. How much did she want her job anyway?

  He pulled a handful of condoms from beneath his pillow and held them out her.

  “I’ve got chocolate flavour… what can go wrong?” He beamed up at her with his striking blue eyes and defining dimples. She could detect no wedding ring…and she could get another job. After the weird nightmare she’d just had, for some reason she decided life was for living and had newfound gratitude for being alive.

  “Chocolate… well that seals the deal, coffee and I would’ve been outta here,” she giggled, relenting. She stepped back into the room, dropped her clothing to the floor, and let the door close behind her.

  Naked, she stood at the end of the bed, hands on her hips.

  “But first I think I ought to know your name.”

  “Mr. Smythson.”

  “Mr. Smythson,” she recited, mimicking his upper crust accent. “That’s a little formal, don’t you think?” She tilted her head. “Do you have a Christian name?”

  “I’m not a Christian.” His eyes glinted.

  “A first name?”

  “James… James Smythson…but you can call me Jim.”

  “Well, James,” she purred, leaning onto the bed and crawling on all fours over his body. “I think I’ll call you Jimbo. I like Jimbo. Is that OK?” She giggled as she straddled his hips and leaned in to kiss him.

  “Oh, yes,” he mumbled through smothering kisses. “But not in the office.”

  “Don’t worry. I may well be out of a job.”

  Playfully, he threw her onto her side. Giggling, they rolled across the bed. I love my life.

  Chapter Sixty

  The apartment’s front door swung open. Amy and James fell against the doorframe, wrapped around each other, snogging heavily. Amy could barely breathe and had to ease herself out of his grip to move into the hallway. He looked stunningly attractive with that tousled blonde hair and those sleepy blue eyes, a towel wrapped around his muscle-sculpted waist.

  Apart from shoulders, her favourite muscles on a man were the ones that crawled seductively around the top of his hip bone, leading down to his privates. A directional sign post to heaven. He had those muscles, sneaking down into his towel. What are they called, oblique’s?

  She, dishevelled, quickly smoothed down last night’s clothing, and gripped his shoulder for support as she stood flamingo-esque, trying to slip her feet into tight stilettos.

  “Stay, I’ve run out of chocolate, but I still have banana.” He snuggled against her ear, nibbling her lobe, licking her neck.

  “Don’t.” His touch made her giggle. “Stop that. It drives me crazy when someone does that. I’m going to fall over. These shoes are killing me.”

  She swapped hands on his shoulder, and balancing as best she could, squeezed her foot into the other stiletto. He continued to stroke her neck. She couldn’t concentrate.

  “Stop,” she pleaded, wobbling, stamping her feet to push them into her shoes.

  “I want more.” He grinned, his roguish dimples denting his cheeks with mischief. He pulled her to him and thrust his tongue into her mouth. His hands travelled her body, kneading her breasts and cupping her buttocks.

  She gave an almighty push. “Stop,” she shouted, holding him at arm’s length, getting her breath back.

  “Look, I promise I’ll call you later. I have to go…before my boss has a hernia.”

  He put on a grumpy baby-face look, and peered up at her through knotted eyebrows, his arms held at his sides like the little boy who’d just been told off.

  “Don’t worry about your boss. I’ll sort it. I told you,” he simpered.

  A
newspaper had been left on the floor outside his door. When he bent to pick it up and slip it under his arm, his towel fell to the ground, exposing his proud hard cock. He grinned at her all innocent.

  She put her hand to her forehead and giggled. “Oh, my god. Could you please put that thing away? This is hard enough as it is,” she said, turning away from him, before she succumbed and ran back into the bedroom. Urrgh! Why can’t it be a Sunday?

  He smiled, pleased with her reaction, giving his cock a little manhandle, springing it more into life. He waited a few seconds before picking up his towel and hanging it on the end of his proud penis, as if on a coat hook. She laughed. He looked ridiculous.

  “What if someone comes?” she looked nervously along the corridor, whilst ushering him into his apartment.

  “Oh, I intend to.”

  She gave him a school ma’am raised eyebrow, and he relented.

  “OK, OK. But later, yes?”

  “Yes, yes, now go,” she pointed into his apartment. Standing well back so he couldn’t grab her.

  “Call me.” He mimicked holding a phone to his ear.

  “Yes, yes…oh, my name is Amy by the way.” She giggled again.

  He moved forward to give her another kiss.

  “No,” she put her hand out, pressing two fingers against his lips, and scurried backwards, keeping him at arm’s length. “No more.”

  She walked backwards down the corridor, watching him as she left, taking in the sights, enjoying his beautiful body and handsome smiling face. Wow, good God, he’s delish.

  She didn’t see the tall dark shape standing behind him, didn’t notice the shadow turn and place its head in its hands, didn’t see the pain in Jack’s face as James closed the door and let her go.

  James chucked the newspaper on the hall table, flicked the television on to a news channel, and scurried to the bedroom, whistling as he went.

  Chapter Sixty-One