His Guilt: A Mafia Romance (Downing Family Book 6)

by Cassie Wild

As I turned to gather up my things, she tried to catch my eye, but I wouldn’t let her. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything, and I definitely wasn’t in the mood to talk about her paranoia.

  “Come on,” I said to Cormac, exhausted. “I want to be back here by around noon, so I need at least a couple hours of sleep.”

  Without looking at my family again, I hooked my arm through Cormac’s, and we walked out.

  I fell asleep on the drive to my place.

  Although the city was still mostly asleep this early in the morning, there was still traffic clogging some of the busier thoroughfares. Cormac navigated the roads with ease, and I slipped into numbing unconsciousness, not waking until he reached over and shook my arm gently to let me know we’d arrived at my house.

  Feeling logy and sluggish, I just sat there, not thinking, until a gust of cold air whipped over me.

  Turning my head, I saw Cormac crouching down next to me in the car’s open door. “You don’t want to sleep out here, do you?”

  The smile he gave me was strained.

  “No.” I smiled back and turned toward him.

  He caught my hand and helped haul me out of the car, pulling me close to him and stroking my back.

  I pressed closer, desperate for his heat.

  “Let’s get inside,” he whispered.

  A few minutes later, as he disappeared to hang up my coat, I sat on the side of my bed and curled my toes into the carpet.

  I felt him walk into the room, and I looked up.

  He came closer and smoothed my hair back from my face. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know. How would you define okay at this point?”

  He hunkered down in front of me. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.” My hands curled into fists. “I don’t want to even think for a little while.” His eyes met mine, and I pressed a hand to his cheek.

  “Can you help me with that, Cormac?”

  His lids drooped, a drowsy, sexy look settling on his face. “I think I can find a way to help you with that.”

  He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to my knee. Through the scrubs I’d been wearing all day, I felt the heat, the soft caress of his mouth. Closing my eyes, I reached down and threaded my fingers through his hair.

  Cormac rose, tugging on my hands and guiding me to my feet.

  “Let’s get you naked.”

  I didn’t argue, allowing him to tug and pull at my clothes until they lay on the floor around us. But when he went to push me back onto the bed, I resisted, my hands going to the hem of his t-shirt. “You next.”

  His eyes glittered.

  “If you want me naked, make it happen, baby.”

  So I did.

  Stripping away one piece of clothing after another, I worked my way down. His boots were an obstacle, preventing me from removing his pants, so I knelt in front of him and untied them, tugging them off.

  When I straightened, on my knees in front of him, I shot a look up over his body, my gaze tripping, then lingering on the jutting presence of his cock.

  Without thinking, I closed my hand around him, right at the base.

  He groaned, one hand reaching for me. He never did touch me, though.

  I caught his hand and guided it to my hair. “Show me what you want, Cormac. Help me to stop thinking.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered. Eyes hot and bright, he fisted a hand in the curls in the back of my head, then tugged me closer, guiding me to his cock. “Open your mouth, Briar. Suck my cock.”

  The words arrowed straight down to my core. In seconds, I was wet, aching, ready for him.

  But I did as he ordered, leaning forward and opening for him, slowly, yielding to his width only when he started to push forward.

  When he reached the back of my mouth, I pulled back.

  He let me, but only so far before using his hold on my hair to guide me back down.

  Soon, we’d settled into a rhythm. He fisted his free hand around the base of his cock, pumping slightly as he fucked my mouth, while I clung to his thighs, my nails scoring his skin.

  His muscles bunched, and I whimpered as a harsh groan tore from his throat.

  Yes.

  I wanted to have him lose control. I needed it.

  But just when I thought he was about to go over, he jerked back, pulling me off his cock. He hauled me to my feet and urged me forward, bending me over the bed.

  I sensed him moving behind me and braced myself.

  But he didn’t thrust inside.

  He went to his knees. Using his hands to open me, he stabbed his tongue into my pussy.

  I cried out, the sound muffled against my bed.

  He did it over and over until my thighs were quivering and the climax was so, so painfully close.

  I could feel it, hovering just beyond me. But he never gave me just the right touch, never moved in just the right angle for me to come.

  Then, abruptly, he brought the flat of his hand down on my ass—hard.

  I came with a wrench of my hips…and a sob.

  A second later, he filled me, pushing past the tightening of my muscles as I orgasmed, gripping my hips in steely hands as he impaled me.

  I was full, stuffed tight with him and already trembling with the promise of another climax.

  Cormac trailed a hand up my back, then hooked it around my shoulder, holding me tightly in place as he began to thrust. I whimpered again, twisting in his grip as jolts of pleasure and overwhelming sensation mingled inside me.

  “Cormac…” I sobbed against the bed.

  He grunted out my name and kept right on moving.

  The next climax stole my breath.

  And the third…it made me see stars.

  Twenty-Four

  Briar

  I woke to the sound of a shrill ring and the sound of water pounding down.

  Neither was very familiar.

  Confused, I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of things with my currently muddled mind.

  It wasn’t easy.

  The shrill noise came again, and finally, it penetrated the fog of exhaustion enough for me to make sense of it.

  A phone. It was a phone.

  I had some vague sense of urgency. I needed to answer the phone if anybody called. It was important. I couldn’t quite remember why just yet, but it was important. Rolling toward the sound as it came again, I swiped out with my hand.

  My fingers brushed against a phone as it vibrated and rang again, that annoying, shrill squawk of a ring.

  With a bleary look, I swiped a thumb across the screen to answer the call. “Hello?”

  There was a faint pause, then a male voice rumbled out of the phone. “May I speak to Cormac MacTavish?”

  I scowled and lowered the phone. Who in the hell was calling Cormac on my phone?

  But even as I asked myself that, I realized the problem. It wasn’t my phone. It was heavier, a little bigger. The case was wrong too. I started to bring the phone back to my ear, but my eye caught something on the screen.

  Initials.

  MC.

  MC. Those two initials could have stood for anybody, really. But his voice…My heart began to beat against my ribs. Too hard. Too fast.

  Swallowing hard, I pressed the phone to my ear once more.

  “Who is this?”

  A soft sigh drifted from the phone. “Good morning, Briar.”

  “Marcos.”

  “Is Cormac around?” he asked, not acknowledging me.

  “Why?” I demanded. “Got another job for him?”

  A low, amused chuckle escaped him. “You could say that. Tell me…how is your brother doing?”

  His sly, cold tone cut right through me. Like a blade.

  “Fuck you,” I said, squeezing the words through a tight, burning throat. Ending the call, I slammed it down on the table and sat up.

  The sound of water continued behind me.

  I no longer had to think to figure out what it was.

>   Water.

  Cormac was in the shower.

  Shoving off the bed, I stormed over to my dresser and started to pull on my clothes. I couldn’t face him naked.

  I didn’t want to face him at all, but I definitely couldn’t do it naked.

  Just as I finished buttoning my shirt, the water shut off. I grabbed the brush from my dresser and dragged it through my disheveled hair, restoring it to rights.

  When the door opened, I turned, ready to face him.

  Twenty-Five

  Cormac

  When I stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist and secured with my fist, it was like stepping out the front door into the icy cold air of the winter morning.

  Briar stood on the far side of the room, staring at me, her expression so remote, she could have been a statue carved from marble.

  “Good morning,” I said, smiling.

  She didn’t return the smile and tension settled in my gut.

  It only grew and spread when she walked across the room over to the nightstand where I’d left my phone when we’d fallen asleep.

  She grabbed it, and with a fierce strength that caught me off-guard, hurled it at me.

  I only barely managed to catch it before it would have smashed into my face.

  “You had a phone call,” she said, her voice arctic.

  “Ah…”

  Slowly, I lowered my gaze to look at the screen.

  It was shattered, the breakpoint starting at the edge and spreading outward from there.

  “Oh, yeah. I think I broke your phone. Maybe your boss can hook you up with another one—a better one. That one is a piece of shit,” she said, her voice full of false cheer.

  I just stared, the dread inside me slowly turning to ice.

  “Don’t you want to know who called?” She fixed wide, innocent-looking eyes on me.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent.

  “Maybe you already know.” Now the ice was fading, giving way slowly to a burning, seething rage. She took a step toward me, her cheeks flushing in anger. “Did you know what was going to happen to Brooks?”

  “No,” I said, squeezing the word out. My throat protested the action. There was a knot there, so big and heavy I could barely breathe, but I couldn’t let her think I’d known her brother would be attacked.

  With a disdainful sneer, she demanded, “Why should I believe you? I mean, you’ve been lying to me from the start. Right?” When I didn’t answer, she shouted, “Haven’t you?”

  I gave a curt nod. She knew now. What was the point in lying?

  She wavered on her feet.

  I started forward.

  She lifted a hand, shaking her head. “You stay the fuck away from me, Cormac. Stay as far as you possibly can.” She sucked in a broken, ragged breath, then flung her arm to the door. “I want you out of here.”

  “Briar…wait,” I said. I didn’t know what I could possibly say or do, but I couldn’t just leave. Not like this.

  Her eyes were remote, her expression severe. “No,” she said, voice oddly gentle. “I want you out. Gone. Out of my life.”

  She turned then, starting for the door. Once she reached it, she paused and looked back at me. “If you aren’t gone by the time I’m ready to leave for the hospital, I’ll call the cops. And…Cormac?”

  I met her eyes over the distance that separated us. And it was a lot more than the ten or so feet of carpet.

  “I’m not my brothers…or my father. I have no problem picking up that damn phone and dialing 9-1-1. I’ll do it, and I’ll have them throw your ass in jail, and I’ll press any and every charge I possibly can. I’m not a Downing who’s worried about the police taking a hard look at me. So, if I were you…I wouldn’t linger.”

  It wasn’t the threat of the cops that made me leave.

  If I thought I could talk her into giving me a chance to explain, I’d have spent a month…hell…a year in jail. A lifetime, even.

  But nothing would convince her. It was over.

  Nothing I could do would change that.

  With that knowledge laying heavy inside me, I knew I had no other choice but to leave.

  I was tempted to just climb into my car and drive, leave Philadelphia—drive somewhere. West, maybe. Or north. Just keep driving until my money ran out and then I’d figure out what to do.

  One thing stopped me.

  After leaving Briar’s house, I pulled into the parking lot of a coffee shop that was open twenty-four hours a day and went inside, taking both the phone with the shattered screen and my other one—the one I hadn’t used for anything other than to text or call Briar. After ordering a coffee I didn’t particularly want, I settled in a vacant corner.

  There were only three other customers, and none of them spared me a look.

  I had a battery pack and set my regular phone to charging before picking up the other one.

  The fractures in the screen were obvious as I ran my thumb over it to wake it up. I punched in the PIN to unlock it and went to the recent calls. Even though I already knew what I was going to find, it was still a punch in the gut to see the call from Marcos. He must have called only a couple of minutes before I came out of the shower.

  The call had barely lasted a minute, but whatever they’d talked about, Briar had learned enough to piece everything together.

  I thought I might be sick.

  I didn’t have time for that. I took a few more minutes to brood over what I needed to do next, sipping at my coffee while my mind ran around in circles. Finally, I made a decision and gathered up the phones and charger, shoving what would fit into my pockets. With my coffee in hand, I retreated to my car.

  Although he was the last person I wanted to talk to, next to Jerrel, I brought up Marcos’s contact and hit call.

  The phone rang four times before rolling over to voicemail.

  Frowning, I started to disconnect without leaving a message, then abruptly changed my mind. “Hey, it’s Cormac. Wanted to get an update on how we’re progressing. Give me a call.”

  That done, I dropped the phone into the seat next to me and started the car. The engine gave a weak, choking sort of rattle before rolling over. Once I was certain it wasn’t going to die on me, I reversed and pulled out into the thickening flow of morning traffic.

  Since I hadn’t been able to get Marcos on the phone, my next action was to hunt down Jerrel again.

  “Man, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  Jerrel gave me a dirty look as I strode through the door that led out into the back hall of the tattoo shop. He’d been leaving the office, but stopped now, glaring at me, arrogance written all over his face.

  I kept moving.

  Something flickered in Jerrel’s eyes, and I caught the subtle motion of his arm just in time to lunge forward and catch his hand. I put my entire body weight into it, taking him to the ground and smashing his wrist onto the pavement.

  The suddenness of my attack caught him off guard, and I was able to pin him with relative ease. I delivered a short-armed jab to his throat, momentarily stunning him. It wouldn’t incapacitate him for long, but it gave me time to grab the weapon and check to see if it was loaded. It was. Thumbing the safety off, I pressed it to the underside of his chin.

  “If I pull the trigger, you’re not going to survive,” I told him simply. “You know it, and I know it. I can also see the door, and if anybody tries to come up behind me, I’ll pull the damn trigger, and you’re dead. Understand me, Jerrel?”

  His lids flickered. “Fuck you, man.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Marcos tried to call me this morning. I’m thinking he’s not done with the Downing family. Am I right?”

  Jerrel sneered at me. “Why don’t you talk to him?”

  “Because I’m asking you,” I said. I had one knee pressed into his shoulder as I crouched over him in a way that let me put my other foot on his wrist. I kept a fair amount of my weight balanced on his chest and torso, effectively
depriving him of any leverage that might have allowed him to use his lower body. Increasing the amount of pressure I had on his wrist, I watched until fine lines started to bracket his eyes. “It won’t take much more to make one of those bones break, Jerrel. Just think, you only now got out of that cast. You want to go back into one already?”

  His lip curled, and whatever word he said came out as a grunt.

  I took that as a “no” and pressed on.

  “What’s Marcos planning, Jerrel? You’re his man on the ground. If he’s got something planned, then he’s told you. What’s he up to?”

  “Fuck you.”

  I brought the weapon up. It was a Sig Sauer P226—a popular choice among cops. “You sure that’s the answer you want to go with?”

  He didn’t respond. I gave him two seconds. He stayed silent.

  Slamming the weapon down into his face, I didn’t flinch when blood spurted from his nose. I heard a telltale crunch, and he swore, the sound pain-filled and furious.

  “You fucking bastard…man, I’m gonna kill you,” he snarled.

  “Maybe. But right now, I’m the one with the weapon. What’s Marcos planning?” I demanded, shoving the muzzle of the weapon back under his chin.

  Footsteps sounded out in the hall. Melia and one of the other artists appeared in the doorway.

  She shrieked and started to rush forward.

  “You don’t want to do that,” I warned her.

  The man behind her caught her arms.

  Surprisingly, Jerrel spoke up. “Get the fuck out of here, you two. I got this.” His eyes spat hate at me, but his voice was surprisingly level, although somewhat garbled by the blood filling his throat.

  Melia didn’t immediately respond.

  “Come on, Melia,” the guy behind her said.

  Jerrel turned his head and spat blood out before focusing back on me. “You want to know what he’s up to, you big, dumb Irish bastard?” he demanded.

  “No, I busted your nose because I felt like it.” I grinned at him. “Okay, maybe that was part of it. Come on, Jerrel. Talk to me.”

  Vaguely, I was aware that Melia had finally retreated, although I didn’t think she’d gone far.