by A. Zavarelli
We aren’t in the business of killing women. Niall doesn’t like it. Would prefer to avoid it if he can. But this time, things are different. Our whole syndicate rests on the balance of this girl. To cross the Russians at this point would be a death sentence to all of us.
I’m stating the bleeding obvious here. Logic tells me I’ve no choice but to hand her over to them when the time comes. I can’t allow her to get in the way of my plans.
Niall sighs. He can read me better than anyone, and it only irritates me further. He needs to know I’m ready. That I’m loyal to the syndicate and nothing else. But my silence is reading like something else right now.
“This is on you, Lachlan. Regardless of how it came about, the responsibility lies on your shoulders now. Your fate is tied to hers. Ye follow me?”
“Aye. I follow ye.”
I don’t need a psychic to tell me I’m going to regret this.
“Ye’ll need to meet with Viktor’s daughters soon,” he continues. “You and Sean both.”
I unbutton my collar and loosen it from around my neck as I give him a stiff nod.
“Of course.”
Niall is appraising me, an obvious question in his eyes. Am I going to lose the plot? Go soft on him over this girl? Is Sean a better choice than me for the position?
It’s this last question that reaffirms my dedication. I cannot allow a woman to stuff up my plans for the syndicate. The one thing I’ve been working towards all these years. And my final promise to Carrick. I told him I’d do him proud, and I will see this through, no matter the cost.
Rory knocks and opens the door. Niall and I both turn our attention towards him.
“What is it?” Niall asks.
“The Italians started some beef with one of our guys down at Micko’s. They think it was us who hit one of their shipments last night.”
“Fucking Italians,” Niall and I both mutter at the same time.
Rory throws his hands up and shrugs. “If it isn’t them it’s the goddamn Armenians breathing down our throats. This has their brand of sloppiness written all over it.”
“We can expect more where that came from,” I chime in. “Looks like things are drying up for them in Cali, they’re all heading back East.”
“Aye, well,” Niall says, “times are changing. There’s bound to be a war on the horizon.”
He glances at his watch and then back to me. What he’s thinking has already crossed my mind. There’s loads of cash sitting in the basement right now, waiting for the Russians.
“We’ve got the drop tonight.”
He nods and then goes about instructing Rory. “Send half the crew to deal with the Italians. Tell them to be quick about it.”
I’m not too keen on this plan. Leaving the club without a load of protection on tonight of all nights isn’t wise, but Niall sees it as a necessary measure. Allowing anyone to infringe on our territory or fuck with our lads makes us look weak, and the consequences of such behavior must be swift and harsh. That’s what the syndicate is all about.
Niall stands up and adjusts his coat.
“I have a recital to get to.”
“Give the girls my best wishes,” I tell him.
He nods and slips out the door.
13
MACKENZIE
LACHLAN TOLD me when I started here that I was supposed to be the appetizer. So when I find out they’ve switched my set to follow Mandy’s, I get a little annoyed. She’s going to be up on stage taking her clothes off and then I’m supposed to follow it up with just a teaser?
It’s ridiculous, and I have no doubt Lachlan is punishing me for my little performance earlier. Still, I don’t let on to it as I step onto the stage prepared to knock em’ dead. He can make it as difficult as he wants. I always did love a challenge.
Tonight I’m wearing an artfully shredded spandex mini dress that just barely covers my nipples and lady parts. I’ve chosen Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman and Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch for my set. Fitting to my mood.
I start off with a bang. My moves are on point, and the men are wagging their tongues. Lachlan’s in the pit, watching me with an expression that doesn’t give anything away. But the tapping of his fingers on his thigh and the way he glances at the men around him tells me enough. Halfway through my performance, Mandy sidles up to him, sipping playfully from her drink.
His attention moves to her and something inside of me goes a little haywire as I watch her swivel her hips in time to the music. She’s trying to give him his own private show during my fricken’ performance. Gah. The nerve of this woman. And yet I have to wonder why it even bothers me.
It shouldn’t. I never planned to get close to Lachlan. But things are complicated and confusing as hell and the only thing I know right now is that I hate seeing him with her. I tell myself it’s smart to stay under his protection. I tell myself that I still haven’t ruled him out as a source of information. And when the music ends and I’m marching down to his table, I tell myself these are the reasons why.
He arches a brow at me and leans back in his chair while Mandy practically snarls at me.
“I’m ready for that drink now,” I tell him.
“Ah, is that so, sweetheart?” he asks. “I’m fairly certain that earlier…”
I don’t let him finish. I move between his legs and sit right down on his lap, shooting Mandy a satisfactory glance as I’ve staked my territory.
“Or we could just have it right here. Whatever you want, Lach.”
Mandy stalks off to find another victim for the night and he laughs, but his humor doesn’t last long. He traces a fingertip down my cheek and right below the swell of my lips, which his eyes are laser focused on.
“I don’t fancy being teased, butterfly.”
“No teasing,” I say. “I want to have a drink with you. Like I promised.”
“My choice then?” he asks.
I nod.
He grabs me around the waist and grinds my hips down onto his obvious erection before leaning forward to whisper in my ear.
“This what you want, Mack?” he nips my earlobe. “Because I make no promises of being a gentleman once I get you alone.”
Shit. Now I’ve gone and done it. I told myself I’d never let any of them touch me. What I’m supposed to be doing right now is walking around the VIP room and flirting my way through the Russians. That’s what I came here for.
But I can’t stop myself from looking at Lachlan. Wondering what it is he sees in me. Wondering why he’s decided to ease up on his attitude towards me. Is it possible that I actually want him to want me?
No. Definitely not.
If I’m being logical, I have to reason that there’s every chance he could be involved. He runs this club. He’d know more than anyone in it. That’s why I need to stick close to him.
I think.
I bite my lip and nod, and a moment later, he’s hauling me down the hall to his office. He lifts me by the waist and sets me on top of his desk.
“Don’t move.”
I smile as he disappears down the hall like his pants are on fire. And of course, I disobey him by jumping down and rifling through his desk drawers while I have the chance. I highly doubt there’s going to be anything in here with Talia’s name on it, but it can’t hurt to check.
By the time I hear his footsteps coming back down the hall, I’ve surmised there’s nothing but legitimate looking business crap in here. Go figure. I pull out my iPod and scroll through the music as he swings the door open so he doesn’t get suspicious. I end up settling on a song just as he walks through with a tray of drinks. Not just any drinks, but Patron on the rocks with salt and lime.
If I was a romantic, I might actually think his gesture sweet. That is until his next words.
“Lay down.”
“On the desk?” I ask incredulously.
“That’ll be enough cheek out of ye now.”
I’m stalling, and he knows it. Those weird sensations are there
I smile even though a nervous tremor runs up my spine. “Whatever you say, Lachlan.”
“Call me Lach,” he says in a husky voice. “Like ye did the other night.”
I peek up at him beneath the curtain of my hair and wonder if he’s still thinking about that too. I don’t have to wonder long. When I lay down on the desk, little glimpses of flesh catch his eye as he burns a hot path down my body and stalks closer.
“Just once,” he says. “One night of fun, Mack. That’s all this will be. And ye can never speak of it to anyone.”
I nod, but I’m pretty sure he’s only trying to convince himself and not me.
He grabs the salt shaker and shocks the hell out of me when he leans down and licks my bottom lip. He follows it up with a sprinkling of salt and repeats the same process again on my neck and the swell of my breast.
When he pulls back to examine his handiwork, my chest is rising and falling hard. I don’t know if it’s the anticipation of knowing what he’s going to do, or the way he’s looking at me, or even the dulcet tones of Godsmack’s Voodoo playing around us that has me so worked up. All I know is that the thought of his hands and mouth on my body is making me feel things I never expected. There’s some sort of dark energy pulling us together, growing more powerful by the second. I can’t even really be sure what it is. I feel like I’m drugged, high.
He bends over me, his breath skating over my skin before his lips ever touch me. My whole body shivers in response, and we lock eyes. It feels like everything else around us has just ceased to exist. This spell between us, whatever it is, it’s stronger than either him or I. Even now, there is doubt lingering in his eyes. Warring with the savage lust there too. He wants me when he knows he shouldn’t.
My hand twitches with the need to reach up and pull him to me. His eyes don’t miss it, and that’s the determining factor for him. He leans down and licks the salt off my lips in a way that makes me part them for him. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin, bringing a slight bite of pain to the sting of salt. My hands are in his hair, gripping and pulling as he tastes me in a way that leaves me feeling dazed and aching for more. His hands fumble with the spandex covering my nipples for all of two seconds before he just tears it apart altogether.
When his lips move down my throat, I whine in protest. But then he’s licking along my collarbone, tasting me in a place I never realized could be so sensitive. By the time he gets to my breast, I’m a puddle of need and wanting. His tongue swirls around my nipple, teasing but never quite touching. He uses his thumb to spread the tiny grains of salt over the erect bud, and when I think I can’t handle anymore, he descends on me again. His hot mouth is all over me, sucking, licking and nipping my breasts. I can’t even tell which is which anymore.
And then everything just stops. When he looks up at me his eyes are on fire, and my heart feels like it’s about to explode. He grabs the lime wedge and places it between my lips, and I just know I’m so royally fucked.
My breaths are coming hard and fast when he reaches for the Patron. He downs the shot, and then he’s leaning forward again, his lips wet and his eyes feral as he glances at the lime between my teeth. He smashes it between us, and I taste a hint of the salt and tequila before the lime falls away and there’s nothing but our lips crushing together.
I’m grabbing his hair and moaning against him when his tongue invades my mouth. I can’t tell anymore if I’m trying to push him away or pull him closer. I don’t like this. I never wanted any of this. So why do I need more?
I don’t know the answer to that question, and I don’t have time to think about it either. He pulls away briefly, preparing another shot. This time for me.
“Lick.” He holds out his wrist, and I obey slavishly.
He salts it like a pro and I suck on him the way he did to me. His skin is soft and warm and delicious. He groans and the sound alone nearly makes me have a seizure on the desk. I have no idea what’s going on with my body. Lachlan retrieves the ice cube from his empty glass with his fingers and rubs it against my lips. On instinct, they part, but not before some of the water drips down my throat. I arch up as he gingerly places the cube on my tongue and steals another kiss. The heat from his mouth and the cool of the ice combine to push me to an edge I’ve never been before. It feels foreign and strange.
I want to devour him right here and now. But he pulls away, insistent on me taking my shot.
“Drink.” His voice is rough, his eyes heavy with lust.
He watches me as I drink everything he gives to me, our eyes never leaving each other’s. The tequila goes down with a pleasant burn, followed swiftly by the juice of a lime. This time he squeezes it down my neck and between my breasts.
I’m panting again when his lips find my neck and lick and suck their way down. I want to get a grip, but then I don’t. I think this is what I was supposed to do. What I planned on doing, but I can’t think straight with his hands and mouth on my body. What was the plan again?
One of his hands is drifting lower, right between my thighs.
“Spread your legs,” he demands.
I do. Jesus. I fucking do it, just like that. I’m not even thinking straight.
I don’t know how, but his fingers are inside of me within seconds. And I’m soaking wet, I can feel it against him. He makes a sound in his throat as his mouth comes down to my breast and sucks it inside. It drives me insane. It feels too good. I think I must be delusional. Nothing’s ever felt so good.
This is all unchartered territory for me, but not for him. A part of me wonders if it’s always this way for him. And then I’m getting unbidden and unwanted flashes of him doing this same thing to Mandy.
I’ve got no frigging clue where it comes from, but the next thing I know I’m muttering something I shouldn’t.
“Mandy…”
“What?” he pauses to look up at me.
I arch up into his hand and urge him to keep going. “I don’t want you to touch her again,” I sneer.
I realize my mistake the moment it’s out of my mouth. He said one night. Fun only. That’s all I wanted too, I think. But he doesn’t get angry at my demand. His eyes spark with satisfaction and possession as he goes back to his ministrations with full force. I can hardly see straight, and I’m making all kinds of embarrassing noises. Lachlan must like them because he is too.
The orgasm blindsides me with its intensity and I collapse back against the wood, feeling like I still haven’t gotten nearly enough. He climbs on top of me and reaches for his zipper as his lips find mine.
“Ye’re so goddamn wet for me, sweetheart,” he grunts. “Tell me ye want me inside of you.”
“I do,” I agree. “I want you inside of me.”
A long slow groan leaves his throat and one of his hands is roaming over my body while he tries to undo his zipper with the other. I reach down to help him, brushing the swollen heat beneath the material.
“You feel that?” he rasps. “Feel how hard I am for ye, butterfly. Ye’re going to take care of that for me.”
“Yes. Please, Lachlan…”
And then everything just stops. I can barely hear over the music, but someone’s knocking at the door.
“Fack off!” Lachlan chucks one of the glasses at the door and it shatters on impact.
I grin up at his lunacy, grateful I’m not the only one being affected this way. Still, the knocking continues, and he looks murderous as he sits back on his haunches. I’m still staring at the bulge in his jeans, too delirious to comprehend what’s being said.
“What the bleeding hell is so goddamn important?” he yells.
“The Armenians…”
It’s the only thing I hear before the sound of gunfire erupts throughout the building. The next thing I know, Lachlan is pulling me off the desk and pushing me into the corner.
“Stay here.” He whips off his jacket and pulls a gun from the back of his jeans.
I’m staring at him in disbelief as screams erupt from the front of the building. I don’t know what’s happening, because all of the blood in my body has gone south. One minute he’s fucking me with his mouth and fingers, and the next someone’s shooting up the place. I’m frozen in horror, which isn’t something I can recall ever happening before.
“Mack?” Lachlan snaps his fingers. “Did ye hear me? Don’t move!”
I can barely nod. He gives me one last glance, hesitating before he leaves the room. It’s not the first time I’ve heard gunfire. I lived in a bad neighborhood. It was bound to happen from time to time. Also, my dad used to come home with the occasional stray bullet lodged into his flesh somewhere. I even watched one of his guys bleed out on the kitchen floor because he was too stubborn to go to the hospital. But Jesus, I didn’t expect to be right in the middle of it. I’ve got no fricken’ clue what’s happening here. I fight with my hands, not guns.
I cover my ears and squeeze my knees against my torso. An intense pressure builds in my chest as I sit here, feeling completely useless. I think about Lachlan, wondering what’s happening out there. He seems strong, invincible almost. I used to think that about my dad too. But he wasn’t invincible, and neither is Lachlan. On that note, neither am I.
The voices outside the door are getting closer. The gunshots, louder. I hear a thud, and I know it’s a body falling to the floor. Jesus. Shit. Fuck. Shit. I’m right in the middle of a hailstorm of bullets and I’m about to hyperventilate. If one of them comes into this room, they’ll see me right away.
I eye the small pocket beneath Lachlan’s desk and decide to scramble for it. When I’m about halfway there, the door splinters open and sends shards of wood flying. I make a strangled noise in my throat when I glance up and see two scary ass looking dudes with guns.
I half expect them to shoot me on sight, but they aren’t even looking at my face. It takes me a minute to realize why. I glance down and belatedly remember that Lachlan ripped my dress and my goddamn tits are hanging out.
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