Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four

by Akeroyd, Serena

  I moved so fast that he didn't really have time to defend himself and, dazed, he flopped forward, but before he could get blood on the green, which was a bitch to replace, expensive to boot, and would raise questions I didn’t want to answer, I pulled him back, grabbed his arm out of the pocket, then kicked him behind his knees.

  When he dropped onto the floor like a sack of shit, I hooked my hands around his ankles and started to drag him out of the room and toward my office.

  With each step I took, he struggled, his one good arm clinging to the door, his body curling around it like I couldn’t beat the crap out of him wherever I was.

  When he did the same thing again with my office door, I bent over and jabbed him in the face, before I stomped on his abdomen. That shut him the hell up.

  Closing the door behind me, I moved over to my desk, pulled out a reel of duct tape and pushed it onto my wrist like it was a bracelet, then wheeled my chair toward him. Hauling him into the seat was hard when he was a deadweight, but I managed.

  When he was in place, I started to bind him with the tape. First things first, I wrapped him up like he was a mummy, from shoulder to calf, then I covered the bottom half of his face with it, which had him waking up as he couldn’t breathe.

  His body wriggled from side to side, the chair moving with him as he struggled to find air. Watching him plead silently with his eyes, his desperate moans doing nothing more than amping up my annoyance, I said, “You get air if you’ll talk.”

  His head started bobbing like one of those toy dogs you saw on a dashboard, so I snagged a pen from my desk, moved over to him, grabbed him by the hair and let gravity tilt him back in the rocking desk chair.

  His eyes were wide with desperation, as I ordered, “Stay very still, Callum.”

  A grunt escaped him as I pressed the pen to the canopy of tape that covered each nostril, then punctured it.

  Immediately, the plastic quivered inward, squeaking as he sucked down air.

  When I pushed the tip of the pen to the second one, he froze, then let out a few mumbles as he started straining to breathe through the tiny holes.

  They wouldn’t sustain him for long, but I didn’t need them to.

  What I needed was answers.

  Lifting my arm, I took note of the time, and said, “Six hours until the wife’s due home. Oh, I forgot, you didn't know I was married. It's a family secret right now. I know how much you love secrets, Callum.” I moved over to my door and turned the key in the lock. “We can have plenty of fun in that time, though, can’t we?”

  Turning back, I saw the terror in his eyes, even worse, I saw the guilt. With that, he sealed his fate, because I knew the thieves had spoken the truth—he’d betrayed us.

  “Yeah, brother,” I mocked. “I know what you’ve been up to. Know about the secrets you've been spilling. Who’s been a bad boy? One guess…” I sneered. “You.”

  She died knowing that the man who promised to protect her put her in harm’s way. You need to avenge that. Even if you’re too chicken shit now, maybe tomorrow, you’ll be strong enough to make Father pay.

  Twenty-Six

  Camille

  He disappeared to his office shortly after our conversation, and once I’d called Bagpipes and told him I needed to run some errands, I followed Brennan downstairs to the room I’d claimed as my own and grabbed the clothes I wanted to wear today.

  All the while I was rifling through my newly organized closet, two problems plagued me.

  One: what had really happened to instigate that conversation in bed? Would I ever know? Did I want to know? Those were questions that pinged to mind every time I heard him snarling at someone on the phone in his study.

  Two: I knew what his promise to my mother had been, and to me, but he’d said that he’d made one to his mom too—what was that? It wasn’t just curiosity that had me wondering either. It was concern.

  My thoughts were tangled, snagging like my callused palms on my silk stockings as I bustled around, but eventually, I got my outfit set out and started getting ready for the day ahead of me.

  When I returned upstairs, I rifled through the drawers, and found some fresh bed linen so I changed the sheets before showering and quickly dressing in the yoga pants and sweater I’d set out, and teamed them with some comfy UGGs. Not bothering with make-up, I left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen.

  Filled with all kinds of goodies, from a food fairy I’d yet to meet and maybe by the nature of her magic I never would, I grabbed what appeared to be an oat bran muffin and a banana, just in time for a buzzer to sound by the elevator.

  Thinking that was the warning someone was on the way up, I just waited, but then it came again, and I darted over there, not wanting to disturb Brennan, and found Bagpipes peering at me on a screen.

  “Come on down,” he told me as a greeting.

  “Be there in a second. How cold is it out?”

  “It’s okay. Sweater weather.”

  Considering myself dressed enough, I headed for the elevator without a backward glance and pressed the button for the basement.

  Bagpipes was waiting by the door, his back to it, one foot kicked up against the wall, and with his focus on his phone, he murmured, “Pick whichever car you want.”

  We were within a kind of compartment of ten cars, partitioned off with windows. I’d figured that this was special parking for the penthouse apartments, but I guessed I was wrong.

  Seeing a Ferrari, a couple of Porsches, a very nice Bugatti and a couple of Bentleys that all apparently belonged to my husband, I whistled under my breath, but selected the Merc I’d driven yesterday.

  Comfort, in Manhattan traffic, mattered to me more than anything else.

  He grunted at my choice, and collected the keys from a compartment beside the elevator. He pulled out a kind of stick too, black and shiny with a couple of LED lights that flashed to life when he turned it on. Before my bewildered eyes, he headed to the car, opened the door and started doing something with the stick.

  When he was done, he tossed the keys at me, explaining only, “Sweeping for bugs.”

  “Oh.” God, this life...

  Shoving that thought aside because this was it until I died, I climbed behind the wheel, hooked up my phone to the dash, then immediately called Inessa.

  Knowing that Bagpipes would tell Brennan I spoke in French with her, I chose to speak in English, because I didn’t want them to think we were hiding anything from the O’Donnellys. Especially when we were only going to be discussing the heads of said family and what to gift them—nothing important enough to require accusations of espionage.

  “Camille? God, it’s early.”

  My lips twitched at her groan, but I just said, “Brennan told me we’re having dinner with his parents tonight.”

  Bagpipes’ interest shifted to me, but I ignored him and focused on Inessa as she gasped. “Oh, dear.”

  “Yeah,” I said dryly.

  “No church for us then, I guess,” she grumbled, but didn’t sound angry at me, more unsurprised. I guessed we mob wives had to learn to be accommodating or go mad. “Okay, well, Lena loves lilies. You could get her some of those. Aidan’s a sucker for the Knicks.”

  Appreciation swirled inside me. That she was willing to help me felt like a massive virtual hug. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d really needed that this morning.

  I cleared my throat, feeling stupid for the tears of gratitude that were gathering there, and rasped, “Brennan said you gave them slippers. Maybe I should do the same?”

  She hummed. “Well, they understand that practice now, so that would be nice, but you could get them and gift them tomorrow? I mean, you are coming to Sunday lunch.”

  “I think it depends on how bad tonight goes,” I said dryly, prompting Bagpipes to snort.

  “We all go to church. Even if we’re at death’s door, there’s no escaping that. Just like Sunday lunch is never missed. You’ll be going, whether or not Aidan Sr. beats the fuck out of Brennan fo
r marrying you without his permission.”

  I frowned at that, then asked, “He’d really do that?”

  “He would,” Inessa confirmed. “I know he beat up Eoghan when he tried to get out of marrying me.”

  “You always going to hold that against me?” I heard Eoghan grumble in the background.

  My eyes flared wide. “Eoghan’s there?” I burst out, concern whirling inside me. “You weren’t supposed to say anything, Inessa!”

  “Sorry, Cammie,” was her immediate, sheepish reply. “I didn’t mean to.”

  I closed my eyes, worried about what Brennan would say about that. “Dammit, Inessa.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Bagpipes mumbled around a yawn. “He’d have found out tomorrow anyway. Bren was more concerned about them stopping him from marrying you. What’s done is done.”

  True.

  Relief whispered inside me.

  I was an O’Donnelly now.

  I was untouchable.

  Still, I cleared my throat and asked miserably, “Aidan Sr.’s like Father then.”

  “No,” Inessa countered immediately, but I heard the contrition in her voice. Making a mental note that she couldn’t keep her trap shut around her husband, I focused on her next words as she explained, “He’s nuts, but like I told you yesterday, he’s oddly family-centric. It’s strange. It’s like his heart is in the right place but his head just isn’t.”

  Bagpipes snorted again but didn’t comment which told me he was in agreement with Inessa’s opinion.

  “He’s like the gossips say? Unstable?”

  Inessa laughed. “Yes.”

  Confused because she didn’t sound disturbed by that, I just plowed on, “Okay, so something from the Knicks and some lilies?”

  “She’ll think you’re arse-licking if you get her the lilies,” Bagpipes said, his focus on his phone. “Lena’s not like your average mother-in-law.”

  Inessa hummed. “That’s your guard, right?”

  “It’s Bren’s man, Bagpipes,” he called out.

  Inessa, amused, murmured, “Eoghan says good morning.”

  “Tell him he has the right of it being in bed at this godawful time.”

  “It isn’t my fault!” I excused, feeling guilty. “Brennan was the one who told me I had to move fast. And it’s Saturday. If I don’t get to the stores early then it’ll be chaos.”

  Bagpipes just grunted, which had me rolling my eyes as I headed for Fifth Avenue.

  “So, slippers for tomorrow, ask Eoghan if his father mentioned something he’d like—”

  “Just get him a bottle of Glenrothes,” Eoghan groused, his voice clearer which told me Inessa had placed us on speaker.

  “Whiskey?”

  “Single malt.” He hummed. “The best. The older the better if you have about five grand to spare.”

  I had no idea what I had on my card but if it meant currying favor with the in-laws , I’d spend every cent I had.

  “Okay, I’ll head to—”

  “Bagpipes, take her to Vinny’s.”

  “Will do, Eoghan.”

  “Thanks for the rec,” I murmured, encompassing Bagpipes in that with a smile he sniffed at. “What about your mom?”

  “She’s more difficult. The slippers, definitely. She’ll like that. Even if she doesn’t like you, she’ll appreciate that you’re saying she’s welcome at your place all the time.”

  I winced. “Does she come over a lot?”

  “No. I thought she would,” Inessa answered. “But I think the drive is too much for her.”

  “She’s been in a funny headspace the past few months,” Eoghan agreed. “I don’t really know what she’d like. Even if it means sucking up to her, maybe that’s the way to go—lilies. Inessa’s right. She does—oh. Wait. Bagpipes, that chocolatier on 11th.”

  “Girani’s?”

  “Yeah. That one. Is it still open?”

  “Just.” He cleared his throat, which, because men were dumb, instantly made me realize that some kind of business was going down either in that area or with the owner of the chocolatier.

  “Ma used to love that place. She doesn’t get to go so often anymore. Maybe you can buy her some chocolates from there.”

  “Chocolates it is,” I said, smiling because now that was settled, I felt a lot more comfortable about tonight. He’d thrown this meeting at me, but it was more of a battle than anything else. And showing up to a war without a weapon, even if it was just a gift meant to disarm, was stupidity itself. “Inessa, what slippers did you buy them?”

  “Louis Vuitton. I’ll message you with their sizes.”

  I hummed. “Okay. Right, I’ll see you both tomorrow at church then. Sorry about canceling later.”

  “No worries. I know what these O’Donnellys are like, remember?” she teased, which had Eoghan responding in a way that made her giggle again.

  Relieved that the post-depilatory disaster hadn’t put a dampener on things, I murmured, “You’ll have to show me the ropes.”

  “I will, definitely.” Her laughter faded. “Sorry about telling Eoghan, sis. I really didn’t mean to.”

  It was worth it just for her to call me that. “Don’t worry—”

  “You shouldn’t keep secrets from your husbands,” Eoghan interrupted, but he sounded like he was on the brink of sleep again.

  Bagpipes snorted. “You’re newlyweds. The longer you’re married, the more you hope they’ll keep shit secret.”

  Grinning, I just said, “Bye, malyshka. See you tomorrow.”

  “Speak later, Cammie,” she replied as I cut the call.

  “You wanna go to the chocolate place first or the bodega?” he groused.

  “Whichever’s closest.”

  And that was how I spent most of my morning. Buying gifts for my in-laws and hooking myself up with a new phone so I could return the burner to Bagpipes.

  Once it was set up, I sent out my new number to the only people who really mattered to me, Inessa, Victoria, and Brennan. It took way longer than I hoped, but as the hours passed, the city just got busier. I was lucky to get back to the apartment by three.

  Knowing he’d given me until four, I was in a rush as I grabbed the gifts, left Bagpipes to his own devices, and ran to the elevator.

  When I arrived, I dropped the packages by the door, and rushed past the bedroom and to the stairs so I could go pick out what I was wearing tonight.

  It wasn’t stupid to be nervous, not when meeting the heads of the Irish Mob, but I just wished that I had more time to make myself presentable. Less than an hour to shower, change, and get ready wasn’t much in the scheme of things—not when I was meeting the parents for the first time.

  A skirt and blouse in hand, a bandeau, and a pair of stockings and some lacy underwear too, I draped them over my forearm and dashed out into the hall.

  I almost didn’t hear it.

  That was how faint it was.

  A slight cry. A choked sound that had me twisting around, trying to find it.

  “Brennan?” I called out, concern hitting me.

  Had he fallen? Hurt himself?

  I rushed down to his office and twisted the doorknob. Finding it locked, I started to tap on the door when I heard another soft whimper.

  “Brennan!” I called out again, banging my fist on the office door before I pressed my ear to it, trying to figure out if the noise was, in fact, coming from in there.

  Hearing a louder mewl this time, something twisted in my head because it had sounded like someone was in pain at first, but what if—

  No.

  He wouldn’t have brought a mistress here, would he?

  So soon?

  Not after what we’d been talking about earlier.

  Rage and hurt flushed through me as I made to bang on the door again, but this time, my fist never collided with it. Fingers coiled around my wrist, prompting me to shriek. I twisted around, my other hand forming a fist too as I punched out at my attacker. My clothes and underwear went fly
ing, but I didn’t care. Just as my other hand was ensnared, I found myself staring up at a glowering Brennan.

  The relief was instantaneous.

  A sharp gasp escaped me, one loaded with panic and relief and... God, gratitude.

  He wasn’t having sex in there.

  I had no right to feel possessive over him, but I’d just... what we’d talked about made me hope for more.

  And, for a woman like me, more was as unattainable as love.

  There was a storm cloud in his eyes as he stared down at me, but I ignored that to take him in in all his glory.

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

  I’d seen him naked, but somehow he was even more impressive looming over me the way he was. Dressed in nothing but a towel, one that was so white, so clean against his skin, it seemed to emphasize every single muscle he possessed. And trust me, there were muscles on top of muscles on top of muscles.

  It was only now that I registered that even if he looked phenomenal in a suit, the suit certainly didn’t do the man justice.

  Hell’s bells.

  There were tiny droplets of water on his chest, between his pecs. I ached to feel one such drop against my tongue, because my mouth was suddenly parched.

  From the tiny bubbles around his ears, I knew he’d been shaving when I’d come in, which was probably why I hadn’t heard him upstairs. But that didn’t explain what was happening in his office.

  Or who was in there.

  I blinked up at him. “I thought you were injured.”

  His gaze darted to the office door for the barest second, which told me I hadn’t been imagining things—someone was in there, and someone was injured. Maybe another person wouldn’t have spotted the tell, but I’d been raised to suspect everything and nothing.

  “Go upstairs. You’re late.”

  “Traffic was crazy, and the stores were packed,” I informed him absently. “What’s happening, Brennan?”

  “Now’s one of those times you don’t need to be questioning me, Camille,” he rumbled, his words setting off a wave of vibrations that I felt in my core.