“You are devious.”
I boisterously laugh. “You have no idea the lengths I have gone to. I needed someone to take my place, and Sal provided the perfect vehicle.”
“You smuggled him and his whole life into a dangerous game,” she points out, accusingly. “He never had a choice.”
“That is how you see it,” I reply, pushing my toe into her warmth. “I see it as leaving a Hope-filled legacy.”
“Fucking diabolical bitch…”
Moving my toes faster, I grin. “This fucking diabolical bitch is checking out soon, and I need you to do the one thing I won’t be able to.”
Her eyes closed as she moans, “Which is?”
“Keep Sal on the rails to his success. Be the red fucking carpet.”
“… Layout and let him walk on me?”
“If that is what it takes,” I assert as I slide closer and replace my toes with fingers. “You do whatever is necessary to get Sal in that fucking throne.”
“And what if,” she says, halting her words abruptly. “What if I love him…”
“That doesn’t exist in the cards,” I breathe against her lip as I fuck her hard. “The Dark Prince doesn’t marry a stripper.”
She rolls her eyes and comes back with a vengeance. “He shouldn’t be obsessing over a pig either.”
My thumb presses down against her clit, rubbing hard and taking advantage of her precarious position. “Iris is no pig.”
“She is nothing more than a well-paid, designer hooker and we both know it.”
My teeth snap against her lip, drawing up a trickle of blood. “Do as I say and I promise you will have a position in his court.”
“But what if I want the crown?”
With all the strength I have, I pour on the painful orgasm as she trembles beneath my grasp. “You don’t get that, cunt. You were never a Queen. You are lucky I’ll even allow you to be a princess. But if you follow my instructions, I promise you a place high in his court. And really, it is the best a piece like you could ask for.”
“Fuck that spot,” she sasses back as her eyes water from the surrender. “I’ll be the goddamned red carpet and his secret fucking whore, but I will never be yours.”
Pulling my hand from between her thighs, I run my fingers over her nipples and roll them to inflict a sharp pinch. “Perfect. That’s all I ever asked. You keep spreading your pretty little pussy lips for my boy, and everything stays happy.”
Tears drift over Amber’s cheeks as she accepts her fate and knows she has no choice. I lean in with a demanding kiss as I force my tongue into her mouth. She won’t bite the hand that feeds her the golden boy. And if she does, I’ll have her eradicated from the entire castle. Or worse.
I have plans in place for that, too.
“Remember, even in death, the walls have eyes.”
“You don’t scare me, Kaci,” she hisses. “You are a bully on a path bound for hell.”
I snicker. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who is dying.”
“The best thing that could ever happen for Sal.”
My harsh slap to her cheek comes on sudden without thought as I sincerely compliment, “I like you, bitch.”
“Good, I’m glad we understand one another,” she says with a smile as her eyes focus in on mine. She refuses to comfort or conceal her reddened cheek. “I will do whatever is necessary to protect Salvatore.”
“Thank you, Lady Mae,” I honestly say, laying against her chest. I hear her strong, healthy heartbeat as her arm wraps lightly around me. On the nearby table, I see her French manicured nails pull a cigarette from the pack as I let a few tears streak against her skin. “Stay awake.”
“I don’t sleep. And service is my pleasure with regards to Sal,” she says, lighting a smoke and exhaling a cloud over my back. “Now, die already.”
11. Dark Vanilla
Saturday, December 18
14 days before…
I’ve been watching Amber and Kaci together for days. Some moments I think there is a genuine tenderness that exists between them. Other days, I’m convinced they secretly want to kill one another. Jaid has been sparse at best, which sucks because I miss her like crazy. Her snide, witty comebacks astound me and leave me breathless and panting for more.
I know I’m supposed to be getting off in Amber.
And Amber is excellent for that, but there is synchronization in the intimacy between Jaid and me that crosses the line and puts us both in a dangerous position. The risk is addictive.
“I need ice cream, Raniero,” Kaci yammers from the sofa late Saturday night. “Something smooth. No nuts.”
No surprise there, babe. You haven’t had nuts in months.
I check the freezer with my fingers crossed, but I think it’s all gone courtesy of Amber and I and our late night sessions. I pop my ball cap on my head and toss my hoodie over it, not bothering with a shirt. Grabbing the keys off the counter, I ask, “Preference in flavor, my beautiful wife?”
I’m standing on the backside of the sofa and peering down at both girls as I wait for the ultimate decision.
“Dark Chocolate,” Amber says, maintaining her vigil on one of those silly reality shows. “Dark.”
“I got the dark part,” I repeat, irritated. “It’s not like there is dark vanilla.”
Finally, Amber’s condescending gaze shifts to look up at me. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
“Ohhh, vanilla bean,” Kace whispers, staring at Amber. “Could we swapsies?”
“Bite for bite?” Amber asks, chowing another handful of popcorn down. “Sure.”
I lean over and kiss Kaci when I feel Amber lay her hand on mine and give it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be back.”
With a wide grin, Kaci replies, “Thanks, babe!”
“Yeah, thanks, babe,” Amber snickers as I turn to look back from the door.
I’m half tempted to go pick her up and lay one on her, but I decide it’s in my best interest to leave. No need to throw more gasoline on their already raging bonfire. Despite our best efforts, the jealousy has become a real thing. No matter how hard I try, I can’t sleep with Kaci thrashing about like a wild woman. And I end up getting tucked in – read: fucked – by Amber. The whole situation is bizarre, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m looking forward to leaving Amber in Dom’s care, so I don’t have to endure the scrutinizing stares of my wife at five in the morning.
Kaci likes to watch me fuck. I’ve understood that since day friggin one, but things are awkward and misaligned now. Before, she had the energy to interrupt and bring me back to her lair, but those days are past. I wonder if she gets off after watching us and what she thinks about. I know she wants a dick. She thinks it’s the holy fucking grail. More like the one-eyed demon in a nightmare springing to life at the most inopportune times. His eye is continuously on the prowl, and when I spot Jaid pulling up in the Scout, I have to adjust the package to avoid the pre-spew vomit from dribbling out of his eye.
Jaid is a pain in my ass.
But damn she has a fine one.
I’m standing in the parking lot and watching her bend into the back to retrieve a yoga mat. Those pants will be the death of me. Tonight, she wearing a lovely gray pair of skin-tight yoga pants with rainbow colored stripes swirling up the outer ribbing.
“Is this the fun you have been reduced to on a Saturday night?” I banter as she approaches with a smile.
“I enjoy stretching wide, Mr. Raniero,” she says, slipping past me with her damn ponytail bopping along.
God, if she only knew how much I’d like to pull it.
“Come with me,” I blurt out unexpectedly. I’m not even sure what I think as the words fall from my mouth. She turns slow, her lips twitching and her brow raising high.
“Where are you going?”
Tossing the hoodie off of my head, I flip my ball cap on backward. “To get ice cream…”
“Gah,” she says, twisting her hands anxiously against her slick y
oga pants. “You’d think they were pregnant.”
I laugh. Mostly because it’s true. These two – Amber and Kaci – have a strange fascination with all things dairy—yogurt, cheese, milk. I almost find it disgusting. “I know,” I acknowledge with a dark frown. “They eat damn ice cream every fucking night.”
Jaid approaches slow and whispers, “What are you going to buy me, Sally?”
“What would you like?” I ask, uncovering the bike. Fuck taking the car. I have a chance for a hot babe – in yoga pants – to be pressed up against my back for a minimum half-hour. I’d be a fool to take four wheels, and no one ever said I wasn’t an opportunist.
“Anything non-dairy,” she says, bursting out laughing as she studies my moves. “Maybe a cucumber.”
I hate to know, but it is too late, the image is already searing into my mind as she tosses her gear back into the Scout. I straddle over the bike and light a smoke before starting her up. “You could just ask.”
“For?”
I offer her mischievous smirk as I do my damnedest to keep my composure. “… A hard dick?”
Her hands press to my shoulders as she wraps herself onto my back. “That would be entirely too easy.”
I hate this girl.
I hate this girl because she is so well-disciplined.
I hate this girl because I want to fuck her so bad I feel like a teenage boy.
I hate this girl because sometimes when I’m fucking Amber, I’m thinking about Jaid.
Her fingers steal the smoke as we sit there idling. The feel of her body and the vibration of the engine is enough to get my attention, but when her hand drops between my legs and lays upon the denim, I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to buy vegetables. “Take me for a ride.”
“Where to?”
“Anywhere.”
Across the street, I hear the familiar rumble of bikes going back to the Delirium clubhouse. I’m not a member, but we are on good terms. The leader’s wife, Trudy Diaz, is one of my clients. We’ve yet to do the nasty, but we meet every couple weeks at a hotel for coffee and foot rubs. I’m her therapist. She’s a hot little number that I aim to keep close. She has been having a long-term affair with Saint Cruz, from which Deacon Cruz was born.
The Deacon Cruz, as in Dom has him running all over the planet to keep him safe. He is the one I need on my team. In fact, he is priority number one after I get Iris safe.
Pulling out of the lot, I see the battle ensuing between Trudy and her abusive husband. He smacks her around as I keep the lights off and wait. “What do you want to do?” I hear Jaid whisper as she tightens her thighs around me. “Tell me.”
Do that with your thigh muscles when I fuck you.
I want to believe if I can get her son out of his mess and home, he could keep her from getting beat on. “Figure out who I need to kill to get Deacon Cruz home.”
“Campanelli.”
I shake my head. “He isn’t going to do the dirty work, babe.”
Her foot drops to the ground as she dismounts the bike. “I’m on it,” she offers, laying her hand on my shoulder. “Stop by my place on your way back.”
Despite my serious reflection on the goings on across the street, I grin. “Shall I bring you a cucumber?”
Jaid presses her lips – soft, sweet, and sincere – to mine. “No. Just you. Come back to me.”
Something in the way she says it warms my heart like she genuinely cares about my well-being. “I’m going to be fine.”
“I’m counting on it,” she replies with a wink and a point of her finger. I reach out and grab her delicate hand. “Be good, Raniero. I’m going on the hunt. And I’ll take your bitches some ice cream from my freezer.”
She hastily pivots and walks away as I smirk and blatantly stare at her ass. I refuse to leave until I see her disappear into the building. I wish I could say I was only a protective gentleman, but I think we both know, there is more.
And Spec Agent Jaid Chambers is more to me than just another beautiful piece of ass.
Far more.
I swerve into the lot to find Trudy Diaz propped against her car. Her arms cross as her head lowers and she burns down a cigarette.
I pull close and growl, “Get on.”
Her hand drops from her face to reveal the fresh bruises and bloody cuts beneath her eye. I hand her my helmet, and she slides it on as her legs wrap around me. She is a small powerhouse of a woman. It may seem off to think that, but knowing Trudy as I do—she is not what I see before me. She is strong-willed and determined to stay married to Diaz for one reason alone.
“All things in the interest of Deacon Cruz.”
She says it all the time as a constant reminder to herself and others as to why she continues to stay and put up with the shit she does. I’ve never met Deacon. With his genetics being the Queen of the Delirium MC, Trudy Diaz, and the King of Reckless Rebellion, Victor “Saint” Cruz, Deacon must be hella impressive. Trudy wants to hand Delirium to him, and if Javier dies, that is precisely what will happen.
I can’t say I haven’t thought about offing Javier Diaz.
I have—many times in fact.
“Stay,” I warn as I dismount off the bike. “Put.”
“Sal, where are you going?”
“To issue a warning.”
“Sal!”
I stomp off towards the building. Chasing after me, she cinches her fingers around my hard bicep as she whispers, “Keep it together as long as you can and use the fuck out of my husband.”
“Why don’t you ever listen?” I chastise quick.
“I’m Trudy Diaz,” she reminds with a few blinks. “Get your ass back on that bike before you get your ass handed to you. Don’t go reminding me who you are, I already know. But I also understand that if you walk into the club right now, you will not walk out. You are angry, and it is a packed fucking house.”
“Fine,” I huff, hopping on the bike and kickstarting her like the renegade I am. “You coming?”
She sighs, slipping on behind me. The second we leave the parking lot, her arms cling around my torso tight. Trudy and I are clear on many things, most important of which is—all the things we cannot say. She knows my short-term goals and long-term plans, and she even knows I work for Sibyl.
Why I trust her is another story.
Before my initiation at Juliet, I met Trudy one night when I was bartending. She and Serene were close friends, and it was Trudy who instigated my performing. “He should be up on stage,” she giggled to Serene at the bar. “That face is money.”
“He’s a kid…”
Trudy pulled a smoke from her pack. I slid the length of the bar to light it for her as her eyes flickered curiously. Of course, Serene would later take credit for my upsurge at Juliet. She would never give Trudy the blue ribbon, especially after catching her lips on my cock that night.
Shortly after that, they had a huge falling out—my personal belief was their war was over yours truly. Serene was a bit possessive but emotionally vacant. Trudy offered to be a confidante and gave a hell of a hand job. I made a choice to play both sides because that is what I do, but the two women have been at odds ever since.
My incredible rapport with Trudy has led to an unlikely friendship. She seems to understand the position I am in as Cesario Raniero’s only son. So, I do my best to mind the old lady on the back of my bike. Respecting the elders is high up on my list, and regardless of what I feel in my heart, Trudy has a point—it would be a slaughterhouse if I walked into the Delirium club alone.
We ride south of Houston, towards the coast, until Trudy finally points at the motel. I stop near the office, and without a word between us, I do what she expects. I go inside, pay for the room in cash under the name of Gertrude Howser. The Diaz name around these parts is a red flag for trouble, so we always opt for the safety of her maiden name.
I return to the bike and yank us around the back of the building where our room is up on the second floor. I help Trudy off and wrap my arm a
round her back as she lays her head against my shoulder and we walk to the room.
Unlocking the door, I click on the light, and she says, “Well, it’s not half bad.”
“Half good.”
With a serious expression, she glances at me. “Honey, the only half good thing in this room is you.”
I strip off my jacket, plop on the bed, and turn on the television. I flip channels in search of sports. Trudy drops her coat on top of mine before pulling out a flask and a joint. She hand delivers both to me. “You are sweet,” I tease with a devious grin.
“Shut the fuck up, Raniero. Don’t pander to me. It won’t work,” she says, digging the lighter out of the pocket of her jeans and tossing it to me. “I gotta piss.”
Opening the flask, I take a whiff—tequila. It could be worse. It could be better. I sit up to take a sip when she emerges from the bathroom in nothing but her black lace panties and bra. “Here is the deal. You save my son, and I’ll tell you what I know about the missing guns.”
“You need to do this in your undergarments?”
“No, I need to fuck you without them on,” she says with her arms tucked behind her and undid the bra clasp. She pitches the whimsical piece, and I lift my hand quickly to catch it. I bring the fabric to my nose. Trudy Diaz always smells incredible. “And I need you to understand a few things about my son.”
“Shoot,” I say, focusing on her word and ignoring her perky naked breasts. “Tell me.”
“He is not like the others—my Deacon. I’ve always said part of him is Jewish and the other half is Catholic, and if I were him—I’d be a Buddhist biker monk. Now damn Dominic Gennaro has him traipsing all over the world in some elaborate hide and seek game. I want him home.”
I smile and snicker.
“I’m serious. He cares about doing the right thing, Sal. He isn’t married to any patch, but loyal to friends.”
My phone lights up on the nightstand. A message from Jaid appears, “Ice cream delivered. I’m on the prowl. Play smart.”
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 99