Rampage (Ruthless Tendencies Series Book 4)

by D. M. Burns

  “Hell, Rampage… I’ve never seen the guy. I know he exists but only over a phone and various damn good business interactions. The shit reminds me of Charlie’s Angel. The guy’s only recognizable through expressed vocalization.” He shakes his head. I chuckle into my glass because it’s true and maybe because I’m a little buzzed.

  “Well, this is a pleasing view.” Lucas nods his head. His eyes are fixed on something over my shoulder and I swivel around in that direction to see Lena traipsing through the entrance with Trace guiding her way. What the actual fuck? “Who’s the redhead on Trace Archer’s arm?”

  Lena’s presence draws all the allure away from the extravagant room along with every deadly eye in attendance. She has on a black silk strappy gown that’s sexy as fuck but elegantly wrapped around her epic curves. One long slit cut’s the fabric from mid-thigh down on her right leg, opening the curtain for her flawless legs, and those dainty black stilettos do a peep show. Her hair is up in a classic bun with strawberry spiral locks cascading down like little runaway strips clinging to her oval-shaped face.

  That entire wardrobe screams fiery sex goddess. I’m not sure what I want to do more. Fuck her or gut the motherfucker responsible for bringing her here. Which I knew in the back of my mind that Lena would show. It’s in her nature. But this is not the type of crowd that she wants attention from. And right now, she has every fucking body’s attention including mine.

  “God damnit.” I spit out.

  Without excusing myself, I leave Lucas standing solo and stalk my ass across the ballroom in their direction. My eyes are burning a hole through Trace’s forehead but he’s oblivious to the irate Rampage headed his way.

  Vaguely, I hear those around me voicing pleasantries as I maneuver through the bodies but it’s all background noise much like their fuzzy faces. The pounding in my ears block it out and my jaw feels like it’s in fatal territory of cracking under the pressure of my clenched teeth. I have eyes on the prize, focused aggression.

  Trace whispers something in Lena’s ear and walks to the bar leaving her alone. That god damn idiot. Leaving her alone here is the equivalent of tossing raw meat into a cage with a starving pack of wolves. I’m clocking all the assholes in the room gearing up to close in on her. That’d be a bad fucking mistake right about now. I’m hyped and ready to redefine Ruthless Tendencies by way of a Ruthless Rampage for all to see in the middle of Aces Down.

  Lena’s head turns in my direction as I push through the last obstacle. At first, she wants to smile but as soon as she registers my facial expression of death to dickhead Archer freshly in place on my face that notion dies out. She looks from side to side as if she wants to bolt. It’s unknown to her on how to handle the incoming craze. Her guess is as good as mine. I’ve never had this problem. Never gave a shit. Never had Lena on the line, literally.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Crellan Haze headed her way with his signature toothpick dangling from his lips. God damnit-no. He must feel the glare coming from my gunmetal bullets because he stops in his tracks completely. Slowly I shake my head from side to side once and he gets the sentiment. Stay the fuck back.

  Crellan squints at me leveling me up with his heartless assessing black holes while manipulating that stick of wood with his teeth. His circular cemeteries hold no sign of salvation, zero. He’s one deceptive and deadly motherfucker. Luring you in with an eye-pleasing appeal but on the inside lives, a cold-hearted manic. My blood boils knowing that Len has captured his demonic interest.

  Crellan is not the type of guy that takes well to being reprimanded either. Especially by someone, he considers to be irrelevant or an outsider. As far as he’s concerned that’s exactly what I am too. A high-ranking foreigner to the mafia family business. He’s also the type of guy that plots wickedly all the while shoveling the granulated earth out of the grave that’ll soon house your dead corpse.

  My facial expression remains one of stone. It promises a manic meet-up that results in many casualties, ours included, should he get near her. He finally cracks a sinister smile but continues putting up a cold front blocking out my resistance altogether. This is not what I agreed to.

  When he’s standing right behind her, he pulls the wood from his mouth tucking it into his pocket then runs his index finger on the outside of her arm. My heart trips out but my face doesn’t indicate change, stone features. Mr. Haze can mark this day down in his book of hollowing horror’s. His actions here tonight just unearthed hell from deep within my calculated crypt. My mind growls out that she’s not a part of this.

  Len startles as she turns to him while firmly gripping at her neck. Her face breaks out into a heart-shaped sweet-southern smile. She has no clue for the type of man standing in front of her. He gently takes her hand away from her neck and drops a kiss to the inside of her palm. Like I said, he’s a smooth but vicious villain.

  Those dark death chambers of his glance back to me as I close in. That look of his is one that ensures me, he intends on having her. Which will be impossible from his deadman point of view.

  Under the ground.

  Not breathing.

  Tucked away.

  Alongside his collection of bodies.

  “Good evening, Mr. Carter. I was just asking our lovely Lena if she was any relation.” He smirks at me and my eyes flick from Lena-him-then back to his deadly vice covering her delicate hand. “You know… Because of the matching last names. Surely, this has to be a mistake because this kind of beauty would never settle for you.” He looks back at her and smiles cunningly. Her eyes are soaking this satanic fuck up.

  “Uhm, I assured Mr. Haze…” Len tries to speak but he cuts her off.

  “Please call me, Crellan.” His voice drips of blood nightmares but to her, I’m sure it sounds as smooth as southern whipped butter. She giggles. That’s right, FUCKING giggles.

  “I told Crellan, that we weren’t married nor are we related in any way.” Her eyes flutter over to mine and she knows.

  Len feels the deadly air wafting from my silence. And it’s very much alive. Plus, my eyes are cemented on the diabolical demon in front of me. I gently wrap my arm around her waist pulling her into me possessively. He drops his hand from hers and licks his lips finishing with a devilish grin aimed directly at her.

  “Mr. Haze, please excuse us,” I growl.

  My tone is a warning. One that I’m not willing to voice again. If he doesn’t walk away, things will get very interesting. He tilts his head at me. This guy knows she means something to me even if I don’t want to admit it to her or myself. He fucking sees my weakness for exactly what it is, her.

  “It was my pleasure to meet you. Please know that you made this night and for that matter, the trip to Georgia one to remember. I will see you again very soon. You have a lovely evening, Lena.” He purrs.

  The way her name rolls off his tongue blasts the logical side of my brain to tiny bits. My insides feel like they’ve been carved out. I want to stomp his fucking windpipe out of his throat in the middle of this ballroom. He winks at her then looks back to me giving me a chin lift before heading off in the opposite direction.

  That was his trick card. I just ripped it out of the deck tossing the rest on the ground in a deadly game of fifty-two card pick up. Without words, he just silently conveyed to me that this is not over. And he can bet his ass on that. Crellan just received an open house invite to my calculated criminal creativity.

  Lena’s smart enough not to speak or pop-off any snide bullshit. I take her by the elbow hastily moving us past the others, out the doors, and down the corridor.

  “What’s wrong, Rampage?” She whispers. “What did I do?”

  I remain silent out of fear. Something I haven’t felt in years. I’m afraid I’ll go batshit crazy on her right now. In all fairness, Lena doesn’t truly know the likes of men in that ballroom or how corrupt my dealings truly are. She thinks she does but no. In light of that, I need to calm the fuck down before I speak.

  Opening the
door to my private luxury resting area, I lead her in before me and release her arm. She continues in and takes a seat on the black plush leather square placed in the middle of the floor space. Her shoulders collapse as if I took a shit all over her entire night. I choose to pace around the room threading my fingers through my hair. It was slicked back but the stiff gel is working loose from my aggravated strokes.

  The squared walls encasing the space are surrounded by one long cushy black leather built-in bench and one entire wall is a dedicated TV screen. Ed Sheeran’s voice is softly singing Shape of You out into the background and I try to focus on that. This is where I normally hideout when I need to relax or unwind. Now, it seems this spot will be used for concealing a certain redhead from the likes of murderous madmen.

  “Uhm, you're kinda scaring me, Ramp,” Lena whispers again.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice is a low cautious rumble.

  I stop pacing and turn to her slipping my hands into my pant pockets and looking down on her. Hell, I’m scaring my damn self from all the pent-up anger I’m feeling at this moment. It’s fucking unexplainable and maddening. I’m so hyped that I think I feel my sinuses popping or that might just be the last working sections of my brain exploding. Who the fuck knows at this point? I sure as hell don’t.

  Her eyes go wide, and she licks her lips in a nervous reaction. She knows I’m fucking livid but has no idea where it stems from. It’s not like I can come out and tell her that she was engulfed in the throes of the Grim Reaper's most gruesome sidekicks. But it was the devil’s brother that swopped in for killer conversation. It’s unspoken truths we both avoid.

  “Well, I just thought I’d drop in and see how it was going. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to.” She looks down at her hands clutched in her lap. I’d feel like the asshole I truly am if I didn’t know her better. “You didn’t say this was a closed event or I wouldn’t have come.” She’s right. I never clarified. It’s common knowledge to the staff, everyone but newcomers. We both know that she still would’ve shown face though. It’s a part of who she is, curious kitty.

  “Did you come here with Archer?”

  Why the fuck that’s even relevant right now is beyond me but it is. Her head snaps up and those ice-blue jewels are shinning. A stark colorful contrast standing out around her strawberry red hair. She slowly stands and her ball removal bullshit declaration pops up in my head. Len is unpredictable at best.

  “Jesus, you are so confusing. Is that why you pulled me out of the ballroom?” Her voice is eerily calm. Fuck no… It was the demon attaching itself to your soul lady! That’s what I want to say but I don’t.

  “Answer the question, Len.”

  I wave my arm out then run it through my hair again.

  “I can’t believe this shit. This is about Trace? You treated me like a disobedient child because of that? Being absolutely rude to that Crelo, dude. Which he was kinda creepy but that’s beside the point.” I smirk when she pronounces his name wrong. I can’t help it. She’s cute when pissed. “Don’t laugh at me.” She prods her finger blade into my chest, and I quirk my brow at her. “You pulled me out of there by the arm. And… And we're acting like my damn daddy. Hell, Ramp, you might as well give me a good spanking.” She props her hands on her hips and damn, she really is sexy tonight.

  “First off, that’s not a bad idea; the spanking part. But to stay on point, this is about you being here period. Date whoever the fuck you want away from Aces Down, yeah? Everyone except house clients. That’s a no go, company policy.”

  That’s exactly the opposite of how I’m feeling right now but it’s out there so, I go with it. And hell no, there’s no company policies on in-house dating of any kind but for her, there are Rampage Rules. I step into her and god damnit, big mistake. That floral sweetness zips through my sinuses and zaps my good common sense.

  “Company policies, huh? I’d like a copy of the employee handbook, please.” She whispers.

  “Tell me what you want to know. Memorization is a managerial habit, one I’m well fucking versed in. I know the rules and regulations word for word, inside of here.” I tap my index finger against my temple.

  “If you don’t care who I date then why ask?” She tosses her hand out as if to say, riddle me that asshole, but she leaves me no time to answer. “I came alone, but I saw Trace in the hallway, you jerk. I’m sorry that I wanted to come and MAYBE be around some human interaction that doesn’t resemble work. Uhm, I mean, well… Technically I know this is where I work, obviously but… Well, it’s been years since I moved away and all my friends from school are no longer here. Mom’s in France with her new husband, TOM, and I guess, well, I was just… I was lonely.” She crosses her arms over her chest and looks to the side. She’s a bad fucking liar. Always was. “You know what Rampage, just never mind. I’ll find somewhere else to go.”

  She stomps toward the door and as soon as her hand hits the doorknob, I move in covering her back with my suit covered chest. Damn, she feels good. Warm, soft, and tempting. Slamming my hand over the door, keeping it firmly closed, I grind my molars together. What now, Carter?

  “Turn around, Lena,” I growl.

  She slowly spins and my close proximity allows me to feel every curve of her body’s outline against mine. My jaw is ticking and the fact that she’s looking down at the ground pisses me off even more.

  “Eyes on me.” I grind out. Let me see those sky blues as they lie some more baby.

  When she brings those blue beams up to mine, I see there filled with swelling tears. For once in over a decade, I feel that in my heart instead of my dick. Shit, Rebel’s right-I’m fucked. As one of those tears spill over, I swipe it away and rub the moisture between my fingers until dry. I slide my hand over the side of her bare neck.

  “Don’t cry, Len,” I say in a hushed tone. I hate to see her upset. Maybe all her lies are fucking with her emotional side. Either way, when she’s upset it makes me feel off in an unsettling way, always did. “I don’t mean to be such a bastard.”

  “You know I cry when I get upset. I can’t help it. I’m sorry I caused trouble or ruin the party for you. I just… I don’t have any friends here anymore and I thought this would be fun. No one told me I wasn’t supposed to come.” She says.

  “You didn’t ruin shit. That’s just not the kind of crowd you need exposure from. You won’t find any friends in there and I don’t want you around any of them, especially Crellan Haze. If he contacts you in any way, I want to know immediately.” Oh, I’d bet my firstborn he’s working up a plan to get to what’s currently under my touch, her.

  That’s the safest way to explain the criminal underworld she was surrounded by. Her lips are plump, lick-able layers of perfection. I brush my thumb across her lower lip and notice her breathing accelerate. She can deny wanting me if she wants to but it’s as plain as day.

  Even after all the things that I know to be facts, I still want this woman, all of her. Other than the calendar on the wall, not one god damn thing has changed when it comes to how bad I want her too. After all, I saw her first, right?

  Between the adrenaline, anger, and alcohol pulsing through my veins, I’m not sure which one is to blame first for what I’m about to do next. Leaning down, I pretend we’re back beside those train tracks and brush my lips over hers.

  Len’s body goes stiff, but I ignore that and tug on her neck, angling her to suit me. Letting my mouth slowly capture the feel of hers again. She tastes like peppermint with a fruity splash. Soft, sweet, and god damn it… I want her so fucking badly.

  Stepping into her, I press her against the door and switch the meeting of our mouths from soft to sexual. When she parts those lips on a sexy moan, I take that as my cue to glide inside, delving deeper.

  Those delicate hands grip at my coat lapels tugging me in, impossibly closer. Biting down on that plump lower lip produces a hiss out of her that speaks to that guy in my business boy briefs. Yeah, that asshole is excited and popping the top o
ff a champagne bottle right about now in celebration.

  My hand slides down from her neck, tracing a path over her covered ribs, collecting the texture from the silky material of her dress in the descent, and coming to a stop at her lower back pressing our bodies together.

  When my club phone rings in my breast pocket, I know it can only be one person. Fuck, I’ve got to take it. Breaking my lips away, I roll my forehead across hers and let out a low growl. God damnit. Her hands slowly release their hold on my coat. Reluctantly, I take a step back while fishing the phone out of my coat pocket.

  My eyes stay on Lena. She covers her swollen mouth with her hand and looks to the ground. Her chest is rising in a labored pattern, up and down at a fast pace. Her nipples are puckered under the flimsy silk material of her dress. That sight alone drives into my groin area like a repetitive kick to my nut sack. I want this woman like I’ve never wanted another.

  Hitting the go button, I place the device to my ear and bark into the phone. Lena finally brings that blue ice-covered scene back to me and I wink at her. I don’t want her feeling any type of way because of my compulsive and idiotic actions.

  “Carter.” My voice is that of annoyance laced with aggravated lust.

  This interruption was for the best but pisses me off all the same. I’ve got to keep my head in the game. This is bad timing and Lena is a damn employee now. Plus, I have a psychopath to worry with now. What the fuck is wrong with me? Spinning around, I mumble into the phone.

  “Right… Take him up by twenty and no more. I trust your judgment, RJ but keep me posted, yeah?” As I end the call, I hear a soft click and I turn around to find that Lena is gone. Son of a bitch.

  chapter 9 – Rampage

  age 15 – Summer love

  Kicking up dust by the tracks, I make my way to Len’s house. I’m running late today to see her because I had to help my dad haul off crap out of the garage. Dad calls it his honey-do list. He said it’s a list for my mother and one day I’ll have one too. My parents are weird but whatever.