Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  Sucre led the way, the girls and Brick at his heels. As soon as the door closed, two of the girls scurried to Sucre’s feet, removing his shoes. The third carefully removed his jacket and hung it on the back of one of the chairs. There would be hell to pay if Sucre found any wrinkles.

  He sat down and faced the show. He knew better than to avert his eyes, but he let the scene in front of him drift slightly out of focus.

  One layer at a time, the girls peeled away Sucre’s clothes, leaving him naked at the foot of the bed. The scars of hard living marked his light brown skin, but his body was firm and packed with wiry muscle. The only visible hair was a trim patch surrounding his hardening dick.

  The girls efficiently stripped their own clothes, and a gaunt brunette dropped to her knees to start sucking him off. Sucre grinned and widened his stance as the blonde who brought Brick his beer kneeled behind him to start licking his ass. The black girl sprawled out on the bed as the redhead climbed up and dropped her head between her legs.

  The girl-on-girl show was for Sucre, but he knew Sucre’s blow job was what he was meant to see. His boss turned a fraction every couple of minutes, to make sure Brick could see his servicing from every angle.

  He kept his eyes open, watching Brick watch him.

  A classic Sucre power-move to remind him of his place. To remind him he could as easily been the one forced to his knees, and he only sat in this chair because Sucre wanted him there.

  It had been years since Sucre had used his body for entertainment, but time didn’t dull the memories. The humiliation burned as hot as it did the first time he’d had a dick shoved to the back of his throat, or even worse, one shoved in his ass. The pain had been sharp, and the physical discomfort lasted for days. But the powerlessness, the desolation, those feelings never went away.

  He didn’t peg Sucre as gay—or even bi. It was all about the control, about domination. It didn’t matter if Brick was bigger or stronger. Sucre ruled as the top predator, and anyone would be a fool to forget it.

  He was no fool.

  So, he sat, and he watched as Sucre ran his hands into the brunette’s hair and grabbed hold. As his hips moved faster, her eyes watered, and her throat gagged. Only at the end did his boss close his eyes, and everyone in the room went still as he came with a harsh groan.

  When he raised his lids, the girls grabbed their clothes and scurried out, leaving behind the scent of their flowery, cheap perfume. Sucre reclined naked on the bed, his fingers laced behind his head. “Do I need to worry about Tre turning into a loose cannon?”

  “No, sir. I’m watching him.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t you take him with you to make house calls tonight?”

  House calls. More like shakedowns. “Yes, sir. How many have we got tonight?”

  “Only two. I’ve got the names in my coat pocket.”

  Brick climbed to his feet and fished the slip of paper from the inside of Sucre’s suit coat.

  “Oh, and Brick?”

  He stopped at the door and turned toward Sucre’s voice.

  “Grab some video of Tre on the job. It always pays to have insurance.”

  Chapter 8

  Liv

  Liv hummed along to the old *NSync song playing on Spotify as she bustled around the small kitchenette. She’d mostly set the table before Izzy arrived and now wrapped up the finishing touches while her sister mixed the sweet tea. No less than a cup of sugar would do.

  She beamed at the spread of fancy dinnerware and the linen tablecloth. “I’m so glad we’re starting Sunday dinners again.”

  Iz smiled her agreement. They tried to keep the tradition alive when Will went to jail, but it hurt too much without him.

  Her irritation with her brother had faded over the course of the week, and now she counted the minutes to his arrival. She squeaked when he knocked once and let himself in, then wrapped his waist in a brief, but probably too-tight, hug.

  Will had perfect timing. He showed up right as the rolls came out of the oven.

  Placing the basket of bread next to the gravy boat, she gestured to the cooling roast at the center of the table. “You wanna carve, big brother?” It had been Will’s job for as long as she could remember.

  He took the offered knife with a smile and got to work. When he finished slicing the beef, the three of them sat down and filled their plates.

  The silence hung heavy over the table, so she broke the ice. “How’s the build going, Will?” She really wanted to ask about Brick, but she wouldn’t open such a messy can of worms.

  Her brother grunted. “We’ve got two going on right now, but they’re coming along.” He shoveled a heaping forkful of meat into his mouth.

  “Everything else okay? You seem a little stressed.”

  He swallowed and bit into his roll, chewing and talking at the same time. “My P.O.’s been riding me a bit. He’s being an asshole, making me come in a lot, pushing lots of random drug tests and shit. I’m ready to get my life back, you know?”

  Izzy nodded sympathetically. “You’ve only got six more months of parole. Then you’re free of the hassle. You can do this, Will.”

  He focused on his plate, putting away nearly half of his food in only a minute or two. She had never seen anyone eat so fast. When he noticed her attention, his cheeks—now filled like a chipmunk—colored, and he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “How about you, Iz? Things going well with your kung fu classes?”

  “Krav Maga.” She rolled her eyes. “And yes, things are going great. Our little sister is one of the newest recruits.”

  Will’s jaw dropped. “Liv?”

  “Don’t act all surprised,” Liv chided. “I’m strong enough.”

  “You don’t have anything to prove, Liv. Just because I worry about you, it doesn’t make me a dick.” He pushed his plate away, then took a healthy gulp of red wine. “I’m your brother. Worry is part of the job description.”

  “You can worry all you want. It’s different from telling me what to do and who I’m allowed to talk to.” Despite her best efforts to stay calm, her face grew hot.

  Iz waved her white cloth napkin in the air like a flag of surrender. “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Nothing but our baby sister making time with a thug on my construction crew.” He poured himself another glass of Merlot. “He works for a drug dealer, Liv, and you were making doe-eyes at him.”

  No way. “You know that for sure?”

  He scoffed. “What? You’re defending him?”

  “I don’t know him, Will, and it’s a non-issue. He’s not interested in me.” Now Liv took a turn finding solace in the wine. Apparently, she’d have to throw out a perfectly good pitcher of tea tonight. It sat untouched on the counter near the sink.

  Izzy appeared offended on her behalf. “I don’t know this guy from Adam, but I can’t believe he’s not interested.” She waved her forkful of green beans in Liv’s direction. “You’re the whole package.”

  “Fine. He’s interested, but he shut me down.” She shot a dirty look at her brother. “Satisfied? He told me he was bad news and sent me on my way.”

  Will narrowed his eyes. “When did this happen?” Over-protective mode: engaged.

  “You’re missing the point,” she ground out. “He said no, Will. Stop beating the horse. It’s dead.”

  “Whatever.” He drained his glass, and when he set it down, the base clinked hard against the table. “I’ve got to get going. Got to get up early tomorrow.”

  “Two weeks,” Izzy piped up. “We’ll do lunch at my place.”

  He lifted his hand in a careless wave as he walked through the small living room and out the front door.

  “Okay. Spill.” Izzy rubbed her hands together. “Tell me about this guy.”

  She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Nothing to tell. He’s—” She searched for the right word. “Unavailable.”

  Izzy smirked. “And apparently, a drug dealer. You know how to pick ’em, Liv. First
the cliff diving, then skydiving, now this.”

  Hmm. Either Iz believed he wasn’t interested or she didn’t take Will’s warning at face value, because no way she’d be making cracks if she really thought Liv might hook up with some guy selling smack. This was the same sister who lost her shit when she found out Liv’s friends smoked in high school.

  “Shut up.” Liv said it without heat. “I don’t know his story. I just kinda wanted to find it out. There’s something about him, Iz.” She shook her head. “But it doesn’t matter. He really did turn me down.”

  Grabbing her nearly empty plate, Izzy stood. “Fuck him, then. Come on. This mess isn’t going to clean itself. Help me clear the table and tell me how your training is going.”

  Resisting the urge to sulk, she complied, picking up the remaining dishes and scraping the last of the food into the garbage can. “It’s okay. The workouts still kick my ass, but at least I’m regaining the ability to move my arms and legs without agonizing pain.” She’d been working with one of the other trainers, Eduardo, the past week.

  “I’ll take what I can get. Have you done any sparring yet?”

  She piled the dishes into the sink. “No. At what point in the training does it usually start?”

  Izzy flipped on the water, rinsing the dishes, while Liv loaded them in the dishwasher. They’d always done it the same way when they’d lived together years ago. “It depends. If you want, you can spar with me when you’re ready.”

  She laughed. “I’m not sure if fighting with you is better or worse than fighting with a stranger.”

  “Better. I promise you.” They worked together for a few minutes, finishing up the kitchen. Despite the small space, they had enough room to tag-team the job. Liv had been cleaning up behind herself as she cooked, so they didn’t have much to do.

  As they wrapped up, Carol let herself in the door. She ambled into the kitchen, swiped a glass, and picked up the wine bottle. Wrinkling her nose, she shook it deliberately. “Tell me this is not your only bottle.”

  Liv covered her eyes with her hands and peeked through her fingers. “Guilty. I forgot how much we could put away.” The last time she and her sister drank together had been before her diagnosis.

  “Isn’t there a bar around here? It shouldn’t be too crowded on a Sunday night, right?”

  She cringed inwardly, thinking of the last time she’d been at Moe’s, but she pushed the memory away. “Yeah. A few blocks from the McDonald’s. I don’t have any money, though.” The party for Will had wiped her out for the week.

  Carol smiled brightly. “Perfect. Let’s go. Drinks are on me.”

  “Sorry, Nugget.” Iz swiped her keys from the counter. “I’m headed home. I’ve reached my limit.”

  Grabbing her purse, Liv followed Carol to the car. She was being silly. What were the chances? It’s not like Brick would be there again.

  ***

  Brick was there again.

  Liv wanted to kick herself when she spotted him approaching the bar in the exact same place where they’d spoken twice before. She and Carol polished off their first round of drinks and the bartender brought their second less than a minute before he showed up. She groaned into her glass of Cabernet at the sight of him.

  “What?” Carol swiveled her head, following her gaze. “Holy shit. Is he the guy? It’s the big dude, isn’t it? Girl, he’s not pasty at all.”

  She nodded miserably and forced her eyes to meet her friend’s. “Can we please go? I embarrassed myself last time I talked to him.”

  “Hell no. We were here first. Besides, he’s seen you now.” Carol glanced quickly to the side and back again. “And…he’s headed this way.”

  Blanking her face, she held her breath until she felt the tingle of his presence beside her.

  “Olivia.”

  She sucked in air and turned her head when he rasped her name. She loved the sound of his voice, deep with a touch of Georgia flavor. “Brick.”

  He shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve—”

  “Sit down, buddy.” Carol popped to her feet and offered her chair to him.

  He studied her, looking unsure whether to follow her command.

  “You plan on ditching my friend again?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then sit down and talk to her.” She hefted her purse onto her shoulder. “In fact, you can take her home. I’m out of here.”

  Brick’s gaze followed her as she flounced out the door before he slowly lowered himself to the chair. His black T-shirt strained as he folded and then unfolded his arms.

  “I thought you wanted me to stay away from you,” she said softly. “Kind of hard to do when you keep showing up in my space.”

  “Fair enough.” He watched his hand as it flexed around his bottle of Bud.

  The man always focused anywhere but on her. “You can’t even look at me?”

  When his gaze traveled upward, his face betrayed his harsh need. “I can look. The problem is making myself stop.”

  She had so many questions about who he was. Why he made her brother so sure he was dangerous. Thank God Carol hadn’t heard Will’s accusations. Otherwise, she’d still be giving the guy the third degree instead of strapping on her seatbelt and heading home.

  She frowned. Maybe she should be doing the same…but which scenario? Ask the questions or walk away?

  The old Liv would have chosen the latter.

  “Are you a drug dealer?” The words popped out of her mouth before she made a conscious decision to ask.

  Brick swallowed deeply from the drink he’d carried to the table. “I’m not, but I work for one. I don’t sell his product, but I won’t lie to you, what I do is no better. It’s—” He ground his teeth. “I hate it. I’m trying to get out, but it’s complicated. And dangerous. It’s why I blew you off. You shouldn’t be anywhere near my kind of life.”

  Okay, he was trying to walk away. He couldn’t be all bad.

  Brick didn’t wait for a response. “I want you to be safe. Do you…have someone to keep you safe, Olivia?”

  Keep her safe? Who could’ve kept her safe from the cancer when it appeared out of nowhere last year? No one. She’d fought it and fucking won. She didn’t need anyone to keep her safe. What could be a bigger threat than the one she’d already faced?

  “I’m safe.” Why the hell did her voice sound so breathy?

  “No one is safe.” It seemed like he said it more to himself than to her.

  Tough to argue the same conclusion she’d reached on her own ten seconds ago, but he looked so put out, she couldn’t help but grin. “Then why did you ask?”

  He ignored the question. “I heard your brother just got out of jail. Is it true?”

  She didn’t answer at first. Will’s nightmare was no one’s business but his own. She wouldn’t share the details, but she acknowledged the truth with a nod.

  Brick leaned toward her, vibrating with intensity. “What did he do?”

  “What happened with my brother is not my story to tell.” She would never spread her family secrets around. Even annoyed at Will, she’d never even consider betraying him.

  “But would he ever hurt you? I know he got angry—”

  “Stop right there.” Her lips pressed into a hard line. “My brother would never hurt me. He and my sister practically raised me, and he has never laid a hand on me in my entire life.”

  Brick’s face softened for a moment before his questioning look returned. “What happened to your parents?”

  She didn’t talk about them much, but something in the way he asked the question struck a chord. He cared about her answer. “My dad had cancer. He died when I was nine. Five years later, we lost Mom in a car accident. Will was eighteen, so the social workers let us stay together.” Even after all these years, the memory of losing her mom cut her wide open. She drained her wine glass and pushed it away.

  He didn’t take her hand, but he moved his closer, letting the back of it rest against hers. �
�I’m sorry. I know what it is to lose your parents.” For a moment, his hard face looked unguarded. He seemed ten years younger.

  Then his jaw firmed. “Whatever Will had to do to take care of you…I have nothing but respect. Obviously, you turned out amazing. Keeping a roof over your head at eighteen, that’s some stand-up shit.”

  Her skin flamed where he touched her. Everything inside her strained for deeper contact. When his words finally registered, her reply came out in a rush. “Mom had life insurance, thank God. It paid off the house and helped us pay the bills for a few years. We sold the place when I graduated from high school. My share paid for college. My sister started her Krav Maga classes.”

  The money came too late for Will. The familiar feeling of helplessness bubbled in her chest. “I wish we would have sold it sooner. Let Will use his share for a decent lawyer.” She buried her face in her hands. Losing Will carved out a hole in her heart she hadn’t fully healed.

  Brick slid his chair closer and gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She turned into his embrace without thinking, seeking more of his comforting warmth. He smelled of Dial soap and a hint of sandalwood. Indulging herself, she breathed in deeply, committing his scent to memory.

  “He wouldn’t let you sacrifice for him,” his deep voice rumbled. “He wanted you to have a home.”

  Reluctantly, she pulled her head up to face him, but his arm remained at her back. Their faces were so close together, she could see the individual bristles of the five o’clock shadow on his face. She swallowed against the awareness of his touch. “Classic Will. Stubborn ass. When he got out, he used his money to buy a little place of his own. He’s still trying to take care of me, though.”

  Brick’s arm fell away. “By warning you away from me.”