by Vivian Wood
By the time he returned to his apartment, he was loaded down with food. He walked in and dropped everything on the counter, looking around.
No Viola to be found.
He took a moment to put away the groceries, then headed to his room for a quick shower and change. Instead of relaxing him like it normally did, the shower only made him more tense.
He really, really needed to get laid. It was Friday, the couple of clubs that Savannah offered would be jumping tonight. Maybe he’d go out later, scoop up some hot girl. Fuck her at her place.
Or better yet, in the coat check at the club. Quick and dirty, just how he liked it.
Leaning against the glass wall of the shower, he let the water pour over his body as he thought of taking some sexy blonde up against the wall, putting a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet as he fucked her brains out.
He slid his hand down and fisted his cock. He was already hard, all the aching hunger of the day snowballing as he slowly pumped his hand up and down his length, sucking in deep breaths.
He imagined the blonde again, her shouts of pleasure muffled as she took him deep, imagined how she’d tighten around his cock with each thrust. He thought of how he’d look down at her face, how he’d fill her again and again, so hard and deep.
She’d love it, love how good his cock felt, nipping at his fingers and moaning. Then her eyes would open, the most brilliant shade of blue…
Callum’s own eyes snapped open, his hand slowing. Fuck, he wasn’t picturing a mystery blonde at all. He was thinking about Viola, who was probably less than a hundred goddamned feet away from him right now.
Pathetic.
Disgusted with himself, he reached out and turned the water from hot to ice cold. The rest of the shower was as fast as he could make it. To his shock, the icy water didn’t completely kill his will to fuck, which he found impressive in a strange way.
He got the hell out of the shower, shaved, wrapped himself in a towel, and headed to his bedroom to change. He’d forgotten that he was hungry, until just this moment.
Except when he stepped out of the bathroom, he literally ran into Viola, both of them going so fast that he almost knocked her down.
“Shit,” he said, grabbing her arms to steady her.
When he did that, his towel loosened at his hips, threatening to fall. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, as he was former military and used to being naked in a lot worse conditions than this.
Except, his hard-on was back with full force, only getting more obvious with each inch closer he got to Viola. He stood there, staring down at her surprised face.
For the briefest moment, he considered letting the towel fall, just to see what she thought. If he remembered correctly, she hadn’t exactly been shy about how much she’d enjoyed his cock before…
He snapped his thoughts back before they could stray any further. He had better things to think about, like the hit that had to be coming.
He needed to focus on that, instead of on her. Anywhere but on her.
With a growl, he held his towel in place, making for the bedroom. Safe inside, he angrily got dressed. Things could not go on like this all day, he needed to concentrate.
He stormed out of the apartment, only stopping to set a special bolt, one that had been put in place by the Cúram. Set from the outside, it made it impossible to leave the apartment, no matter what.
A security feature that should have set his mind at ease, but didn’t.
Unfortunately, the rest of the day didn’t improve with time. Between two of his workers not showing up on time, and getting reamed out by Cor as part of his daily penance…
The day did not go in Callum’s favor. It did not even remotely resemble anything like that. Mostly he spent the day alternating between worrying about what Viola was doing and forcing his mind back to his work.
By the time he got home, he just wanted to crash, and do it without interruption. He picked up more takeout on his way home — Thai this time, ordering way too much because he still had no idea what kind of food she liked.
The second he opened his door though he saw her sitting at the kitchen counter, looking furious. She was angry all right.
Viola was immediately in his face, blonde hair flying.
“What were you thinking?” she accused. “Locking me in? What if there been a fire?”
Callum carefully blanked his face as he pushed inside.
“You would’ve been fine.”
“The hell I would have!”
He refused to answer, gritting his teeth.If she wanted to be ridiculous, that was fine by him.
He elbowed her out of the way, ready to relax. Hell, more than ready. Dropping the Thai on the counter, he fixed her with a look, all his feelings about the day in it.
It worked, because she fell silent, just looking at him with an icy stare.
He headed to his room to change, glad for a moment’s reprieve. Having her at his place was a hell of a lot safer, but damn was it annoying.
When he left his room, he found Viola with two of the Thai containers open before her. She watched him as he entered the kitchen, mouth thankfully too full of food to complain.
He slid her a glance as he opened the fridge to grab a beer. She looked away, devouring a container of curry and an order of spring rolls in remarkably short time. He had barely cracked open his container of curried noodles when she finished.
She closed the container and gave him a look, like their earlier argument wasn’t over, it was just percolating. He noticed a worn textbook sitting out on the counter, open to a medical diagram.
“You can read that while you eat?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?” he asked.
Her lips thinned, and she glanced away. When she looked at him again, her eyes were full of fury.
“You can’t lock me in the house like that. I could have died!”
He stared at her for a moment, his anger swirling around, fermenting.
“I’m not your boyfriend,” he said, maintaining his cool facade. “And I don’t follow your orders. You don’t need to go getting ideas.”
Her stony stare didn’t surprise him much, but what she did next ruffled his feathers.
She laughed.
Thick, low, and full-bodied, her laugh was surprisingly seductive. It gave him a little chill, raised goosebumps on his arms — even as he scowled at her.
“I’m so glad you find this funny,” he said.
She sobered a little, interlaced her hands on the table.
“I need to go out. Just to the drugstore.”
She dropped the words almost casually, as if she hardly meant them.
“No,” he said.
She pulled a face, then tried again.
“There are things I need.”
He set down his fork; clearly he wasn’t finishing his dinner.
“I need to save your damned life. You see that, don’t you?”
“And if you get killed while you’re out? What then?” she said, her words heated.
“That won’t happen.”
She looked at him for a second, then slowly shook her head.
“It could. Your job is a lot more dangerous than mine.”
He felt his jaw tense, felt himself tighten. He didn’t like to think of himself dying in some back alley, but then again it was the most likely scenario. As long as he did this job, the possibility lurked around every corner.
And that was before Miss Annie Oakley had decided to kill a member of a rival gang.
“There is a contingency in place. For if I die…out there,” he muttered.
“Oh good, that way I’m not tied to you. You know, it’s almost like I’m free to roam—”
“Fuck off with all that.”
He turned away, arms crossing. He was losing interest in the conversation, quickly.
“Alright,” she said to his back. “You get me the stuff from the drugstore, then. Scissors made for cutting hair, and a box
of hair dye. A dark color, and the most expensive you can find.”
He was on her in a second, turning and moving toward her in a flash, his breathing heavy. Viola took a step back, then another, until she was pinned between Callum and the kitchen island.
He moved forward until they were almost touching, until the space between them was next to nothing, a heart’s breath. Daring her to make the connection, to bridge the gap — if she would.
Her eyes flared bright, her breath caught.
“For what?” he ground out. “For this?”
He caught a long, shining lock of her cornsilk hair, rubbed it between his fingers.
“Yes,” she snapped, pulling her hair from his touch.
“What if I like it this way?” he asked quietly, staring at her.
Two shimmering pools of sapphire met his gaze, her eyes searching his. He saw it a moment before she spoke, the teasing that came out of her mouth.
“Doesn’t really matter what you like, does it? You’re just a sex toy, nothing more. Nobody asks for your opinion.”
He made a low sound, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
“You weren’t saying that the last time I had you. In fact, I think the only thing you were saying was, ‘oh GOD’.”
She stared up at him for a long second, and he wondered if she would break the spell by kissing him.
Instead, to his definite disappointment, she spoke.
“I know your game, Callum. I grew up with guys like you, cocky assholes who flitted from one flower to the next.”
“You’ve never seen a guy like me.”
“I’ve seen a thousand if I’ve seen one. That’s why I took what I could, when I could, then moved the fuck on.”
Her words were too provocative. He broke his own rule, crushed his body against hers. Made sure she felt every inch of his flesh pressed to hers, the raging hard-on he had for her.
“The reason I know that you have never seen anyone like me,” he said, running a hand down her side. “Is because I have fucked you. I’ve seen your face when you cum, seen how much you needed it. No woman should need it that bad, yet they always do.”
He watched her intently, saw her lips tremble. Read the indecision in her eyes, the hunger mixed with fear…
And caught himself.
Just as she moved, whether to kiss him or shove him away, he stepped back.
And then he turned, leaving her in the kitchen. Booking it to his room, like he was on fire and the extinguisher was in his bed.
He stripped and lay down, physically exhausted but also emotionally drained.
She was a huge liability, that much was obvious. He knew she was a risk, yet he was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.
What the hell was his problem? He knew better than to touch her, and yet…
He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, determined not to spend the night tossing and turning.
She was a problem best left to waking hours.
10
“Fuck.”
The word came out of Callum’s mouth fast, almost as if it were a bullet.
Dec looked into the fading sunset, squinting into the light as it came in across the dash. They sat in the car outside one of the safe houses, after they’d finished moving the last one.
“Yeah.”
“He’s already here?” Callum asked.
“Yeah. He just called me, asked me to arrange a meeting.”
“As if I’m a hostile.”
Declan rubbed his reddish-brown beard and didn’t say anything. That actually made Callum more angry, but he couldn’t say anything. He should’ve expected trouble from the Cúram.
“Where are we meeting him?” he asked, instead unleashing his anger on Declan.
“Actually…” Declan glanced in the mirror. “He’s here.”
Callum saw a sleek black town car pull up beside theirs, unquestionably the Cúram. For all their Irishness, they reflected the mob in a lot of ways, one of them being choice of vehicle.
The Cúram always looked comfortable, arriving in style.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Callum got out of the SUV. He eyed the town car, taking a moment to straighten his dress shirt.
He walked over, unsurprised when Brian Connor got out of the driver side.
“Brian.” He nodded to the driver, Fallon’s usual guy. Dark hair, dark eyes, wearing a leather jacket, the guy was practically deaf and mute.
Or so Fallon liked to pretend. Yet here again, Brian was standing outside the car. Apparently there were things he wasn’t allowed to hear, and this was one of them.
Brian nodded back, like this was a normal piece of business. Hell, for Brian it probably was normal.
Callum opened the town car and slid in. It was dark, completely done up in leather.
And there sat Fallon. His dark blond hair going white, his emerald eyes sharp as a hawk. He gave Callum a good idea what he’d look like when he got older, assuming he made it to that age.
Fallon was Callum’s uncle, and a no-nonsense guy. Familial relations took a back seat to business, that was for sure.
Callum could hear his uncle’s thick Boston accent before he even opened his mouth.
“Nephew. I hear you got yourself a girl,” Fallon said, getting right to the point.
Callum eyed him, then nodded.
“A witness,” he said, keeping his voice calm.
“Uh-huh. Well, two of our boys have been hit today, up in Boston, so we are looking at a big-time hit. Retaliation, you know?”
Shit.
“They shouldn’t have sent someone to kill us in the first place,” growled Callum. “They brought this upon themselves. Can’t you talk some sense into them, negotiate on our behalf?” Callum hated to ask, but maybe his uncle was feeling generous today.
Fallon gave a humorless chuckle.
“Doubtful. You killed Antony Valetti.”
That made Callum stop and stare at his uncle, taken aback. Why was he acting like this whole situation had a foregone conclusion already?
“I know, but — “
Fallon held up a hand, silenced Callum.
“Yeah. And a hit on you changes things, says they know who and where you are. Big problem, since you don’t take orders from your father about who you run around with. You practically gave the order yourself when you came down here.”
Callum kept his face carefully blank. There was an ocean of distance between him and his father. Hell, he’d joined the Navy at seventeen, just to escape the shadow of his old man.
And that was back when he and his mother had lived in Stoneham, a quiet life in the suburbs of Boston. Barely seeing his father, except for holidays.
Before his father had even truly come into power in the Cúram.
“So they know where I am,” Callum said, changing the subject.
“Yes. So what are we going to do about it?” Fallon asked, looking him dead in the eye.
Callum was silent for a minute, unsure how to respond. When Callum didn’t answer, Fallon spoke again.
“Callum, I want you to think very carefully about what you say next. Because you are family, and we don’t lie to one another.” Fallon took a breath. “Were you the one that killed Valetti? Because it wasn’t done with your gun, it was done with an old revolver.”
Callum sucked in his breath. He hadn’t expected the Cúram to dig up the autopsy. He could lie, but… It seemed unwise, given that Fallon had come all this way to ask about it person.
“It was the girl,” he admitted with a shrug. “I’d be dead without her.”
Fallon looked speculative, folded his hands together.
“You’re sleeping with her.” Fallon’s accusal was brief, so unsurprised that Callum almost didn’t naysay it.
“No,” he said at last.
His uncle made a face, whether at the pathetic lie or the idea that a girl wouldn’t sleep with Callum, he didn’t know.
“What’s her name?”
“Viola.
”
“Somebody’s gotta pay, and it ain’t gonna be more of our guys. She’s the only one who’s not family, you get me?”
“We’re beyond that,” Callum pointed out. “They already killed two of our guys in the street.”
Fallon stared at him for a long second, then nodded. “I know.”
A thought sprung to Callum’s mind, something half-formed.
“What if there’s another option? Vi saw a second guy turn tail and run. What about him?”
Fallon brought his hand to his chin thoughtfully.
“Another guy?” he said. He peered out his window, mulling it over. “That could work. If we can find him, that is.”
“Let me try. I can get a description from her, put a bound and gagged order on him. We can scoop him up. If he thinks that the boss he saw murdered is dead, he needs to clean up the one loose end before he’s good to go back to New York.”
The thought of Viola as a loose end was something Callum didn’t like to delve into too deeply.
“Which is your girl,” Fallon nodded. After a moment, he said, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, as in, you’ve got my approval temporarily. I’ll give you a few days to look into it.”
“Thank you.”
Fallon gave him a hard look, then shrugged. “It’s good for business.”
Fallon glanced away, and Callum realized he was dismissed. Opening the door, he slid from the car. He straightened himself, nodding to Brian, and headed to his SUV.
Declan was nowhere to be found. He didn’t care for authority figures, so that was no surprise.
Pulling the car out, head full of swirling thoughts, he headed home.
Callum came home to the sound of the treadmill going. Peeking in the gym, he found Viola running at full pace, as if trying to escape.
He cocked a brow, noticing her choice of wardrobe — tiny black shorts and a pink tank top.
Damn. If she was trying to catch his attention, there wasn’t a much better way. He loved women that worked out.
He indulged himself for a moment, looking at the sweat trickling down her back, pooling at the base of her spine. He was hard and hungry, suddenly…