Deadly Retaliation: A Dark Bully Harem Romance (A Twisted, Dark and Deadly Romance Book 1)

by C. P. Mandara

  Grabbing a bottle of Stolichnaya, I slam it down on the marble countertop. Now I just need to get the largest glass I can find and shove some ice in it. My life is improving. By the time this little baby in front of me is finished, I won’t care about James and Lois. I won’t be embarrassed about the class A fuck up I managed at work this week, and I won’t care that Sandra is probably fucking her delightfully attractive partner without me this evening. Nope. I won’t give two hoots about anything, and that’s just the way I like it.

  Kicking back on the sofa, I knock two fingers of Vodka straight down my neck and enjoy the resulting burn. In less than two hours, Lois will be eradicated from my mind and James will be a mere figment of my imagination. While they may come back to me in painful bursts as soon as morning approaches, I’ll worry about that later. I just need to erase this day from my memory for a few hours, and from personal experience, Vodka is the only reliable method of doing so. Thankfully, I don’t have to work tomorrow. I have a couple of days off before my next assignment, and while I need to go back to the office to complete some paperwork, hopefully I can slink in and out without too many prying eyes upon me. I do not take defeat well. The trouble is, until I’ve dealt with the Lois and James problem, I am not going to be on top form.

  Pouring another glass of Vodka, this one even more generous than the last, I settle back on the leather sofa and kick my legs up. What do you want, Adrien? For the first time in my life I am free of the constraints of my family, and I’m not even sure what that means. I do know that I will finally be able to form a relationship with someone without fear of Alain using them to control me. Up until now, I have never slept with the same woman more than once or twice for fear of my brother using her against me. If he’d thought for a second that I cared about someone, he’d wouldn’t have thought twice about killing her if it would get me to do what he wanted. That’s why I could never risk it. I have a reputation around these parts for being a playboy, and with good reason. I didn’t have any other choice. For years my only friend has been James Leverett, and this was only because I knew he could just about handle himself against my brother. Look where that got me. He. Married. My. Fucking. Girl.

  So, what should I do to him? I can’t let this go. The insult is too great. The problem is, while I want to string him up by his balls and eviscerate him, I am aware that I am not dealing with a mere mortal. James is special. The reason James is special is because he’s worked in the military, probably the SAS, although no one knows for sure. It’s not something he talks about. If I want to get even with the bastard, I’m going to need to be able to get near him, and if he doesn’t want anyone to know where he is, no one will. Lois, his newly wed wife, will be just as hard to get my hands on. She’s an operative, just like him. A very good one. She’s not quite as good as James, but I wouldn’t want to go up against her – not without taking certain precautions, anyway. If I want to get even with this pair for deserting me in my hour of need, I am going to have to come up with a plan. A decent one. I’ll need to draw them out somehow. This is another reason I’m trying to drink my weight in alcohol. I come up with some of my best ideas whilst under the influence.

  Hmm, what can I do to draw James out into the wild? Considering we’ve been friends for years, it’s rather amazing how little I actually know about him. He is a very private person. I respected this because in my previous line of business it made sense to keep your cards close to your chest, but it now leaves me with very limited options for revenge. If I can’t get my hands on either him or his wife, I fail to see how I’m going to entice him out into the open. Mind you, Elizabeth used to work with him. He left the business shortly after my so-called ‘death’ and hasn’t been seen since. It’s possible she knows where he is. Maybe I should sleep with the boss, after all. It’s amazing what you can discover after a few multiple orgasms. It’s not as if it would be a hardship, either. The woman is clever, attractive, and she has a temper. These are all my favorite qualities in a woman. Mind you, I like making women cry. I need that if I want to get off. If I start unleashing myself on her, there’s a good chance I’ll get fired, and I could do without a sexual harassment suit on my file. This means I’ll have to play nice. Pouring myself yet another glass of neat vodka, I grimace. I’m not even sure I still remember how to play nice, so how is that going to work? I think about that for a minute and then smile. Who says I need to behave? There’s plenty I can do without actually having to reduce her to tears. I’ll just need to be careful. The woman is already ripe for the plucking. All I have to do is foster that need. Before long, I’ll have her eating out of my hand.

  As soon as I discover James’s whereabouts, the party can begin. I’m going to nail his wife right in front of him, until she is screaming for mercy, and there won’t be a damn thing he can do about it. Let’s see how he likes feeling helpless for a change. I want to see the light die in his eyes as he realizes Lois is in love with me. I want to crush that fucker from the inside out. That’s when I’ll nail him. No man is infallible, and I intend to ram that point home down his throat.

  Leader

  “He’s alive.” I look up from my cup of coffee and wonder how Jake will take this news. It’s either going to go one of two ways. I’ve debated telling him about this for a few weeks now, but as Dumortier keeps landing on my doorstep, I can’t keep it under wraps any longer. In the beginning, I kept telling myself it was someone else, but I’m now sure it’s him. I’ve seen the file. The man is the spitting image of his brother, Alain.

  “Mmm? Who’s alive?” Jake’s had his head buried in the Telegraph for most of the morning and he only comes up for air to take an occasional sip of his tea. He’s had the same cup for most of the morning, so it must be stone cold by now, but he hasn’t complained.

  “One of your friends who you thought was dead,” I say breezily. Jake has lots of friends who are now dead, so he’s not going to cotton on immediately.

  “Which one is alive and do I like him?” Jake hasn’t looked at me yet, so I’m not entirely sure he’s paying attention to a word I’m saying, but it would never do to underestimate him, so I don’t.

  “If he’s a friend, you like him. That’s the whole point of him being a friend.” I don’t know why I feel the need to point this out, but I do.

  “Not necessarily. Sometimes I keep people around because they’re useful, not because I like them.” Right. That told me. Here goes nothing.

  “Out of curiosity, am I a friend?” Might as well get that out there. I probably won’t like the answer, but I need to know.

  “Of course.” Jake is being evasive on purpose. Mind you, that is his job, I guess.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “So, am I a friend friend or am I useful?”

  “Both.”

  God, the man is exasperating. Seriously, the Telegraph cannot be that interesting.

  “What do you mean both? Either you like me, or you don’t. If you don’t like me, I need to know.” Actually, I probably don’t. Why the hell did I start this conversation? This is going to make our working relationship very awkward. Excellent. Way to go, Melanie.

  “Do you want clarification on our relationship, Mel? Is that what this is?” I swear the man is smirking. I so want to whip that paper away from him. My fingers are itching to rip it to shreds.

  “Yes.” Let’s face it, it’s too late to go back.

  Jake looks up at me and sure enough, there’s a smirk marring those ridiculously beautiful cheek bones.

  “Fine. I do like you. You are a friend. Sometimes you are also useful, but generally not after you have had a few glasses of wine.”

  I blink. I cannot remember Jake ever having seen me drunk. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t, but still.

  “Have you been spying on me?” I ask. It’s a stupid question. The man keeps tabs on everyone.

  Jake finally puts down his paper, folding it up neatly in front of him. Uh oh. Now I have his full attention. I don’t know whether to feel pleased or afrai
d.

  “Which of my friends is alive, Mel?” He looks at me enquiringly, tilting his head in question. I love it when he does that. I could eat him up right now.

  “The French one.” Yeah, I’m still being illusive, but I want to string this out. Sliding my legs on top of his table, I cross them and place my hands behind my head. This gets his attention.

  “Are you flirting with me, Leader?”

  “What if I was?” Yeah, I’m in love with Jake, but everyone is in love with Jake. It goes with the territory. He is the best of the best, he’s the guy everyone looks up to, and he’s also fucking hot. I’d do him in a heartbeat.

  Jakes grunts. “You do I know I’m married?” He raises his eyebrow and frowns. This probably means I should back down, but I’m not going to.

  “So?” He’s only been married a couple of months. It might all be over this time next year.

  Jake shakes his head. “So?” It seems he needs clarification now. Fine. I can give him some.

  “What’s your point? I’ve had sex with plenty of married men. I don’t want to live with you. I don’t want to do your grocery shopping, and I certainly don’t want to do your laundry.” No man is every getting me shackled to the white picket fence deal. Besides, I can barely do my own laundry.

  “Should I mention that my wife is an assassin, just like you? She’s probably tapping all my calls, and, quite frankly, I’d be amazed if she hadn’t installed a GPS tracker on my car. Are you sure you still want sex?”

  My face crumples up. That does kind of put a downer on the affair thing. I can cope with an angry housewife or perhaps an insurance dealer or ballet teacher, but I’m not sure I need the added excitement of a pro coming after me.

  “Does she work for us? Who trained her?” If I’m better than her, maybe there’s still a chance.

  “She’s as good as you are. Let’s leave it at that, Mel.”

  I put on my sulky face, not that anyone cares. Jake has once again picked up his newspaper.

  “You’re such a spoilsport,” I moan, as I kick my feet back off the desk.

  “No, it’s called happily married. Try it one day. You might even find you like it.”

  “If that means staying with the same bloke every day for the rest of my life, I suspect I won’t. It sounds hideous.” I mean that, too. One of the perks of this job is that I get to sleep with lots of people – both men and women. I prefer men, but women have a charm of their own. I wouldn’t swap that for Captain Boring. I can’t even imagine wanting to sleep with the same guy every night. The mere thought is pretty terrifying.

  “To each their own.”

  “Hmph.” There’s not much I can say to that. To be fair to Jake, though, he looks pretty content. There aren’t many people who get married in our line of business, so good luck to him. I give him a year, tops, before it all goes tits up. Until then, I’ll wait. I’m a patient woman. Actually, that’s a complete lie.

  “The friend, Mel?” Jake still has his nose buried in the damn paper, and I’m getting tired of not being able to see his expression, so I snatch it away. I want to make sure I witness this as a Kodak moment. Fifty quid is riding on the fact he’s going to go berserk if I get this right, and I am never wrong. I am a woman, after all.

  “His name is Adrien Dumortier.” There. The sentence I’ve been itching to say all day is in the open. Now I just need to see his reaction. Jake never reacts to anything. He is Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected. You could shoot ten thousand volts into this man and he wouldn’t make a murmur. He has a reputation in the business for being as close to a solid bloke of ice as a human being can be. I’ve tried my best to emulate him over the years, but ice isn’t my strong suit. I’ve come to the conclusion that we’re polar opposites, and I’ll just have to do my own thing, my way. He can be ice – I’ll be fire. Opposites complement each other, right? They also attract, although you wouldn’t know it. Ice block over there is attracted to no one and nothing. He hasn’t had a girlfriend in years. To my knowledge, he’s never even had a date with one of the receptionists, and everyone’s done that – even me. It’s almost obligatory every year at the Christmas party. They get offended, otherwise.

  When Jake drops his newspaper and sends his cold mug of tea crashing to the floor, I stare on in shock. I think my jaw opens and closes not once, but twice. His face goes paper-white and his features look stricken. I have never seen him like this. Never. He doesn’t even look like that when someone’s got a pistol pressed up against his forehead.

  “What did you say?” His full stare is now upon me, which is a rare treat, but judging by his expression I’m about to get grilled, so I probably won’t enjoy the attention as much I’d hoped.

  “You heard me. He is a friend, right?”

  “Oh fuck,” Jake spits. “Are you sure?”

  I can’t believe he just asked me that. Seriously? I find this question insulting. If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have said anything. I am not about the business of misinformation. I leave that up to the Prime Minister and the national tabloids.

  “Are you really asking me that question?” Yeah, I’m a little snipey with him, but he deserved that remark. We’ve been friends for a few years now, but we won’t be for much longer if he continues on this vein.

  “Sorry. I know you’re good, Mel, but this is really important. Are you one hundred percent certain that it was Adrien Dumortier you saw? Not Geraud?”

  This is no less insulting than the last question. Geraud is at least thirty years older than Adrien. I’d know if it was Geraud. We’ve tangled on a few occasions, thankfully at a distance, but I’d recognize him. Adrien, while he has some of his father’s features, is a much younger version. A much younger and attractive version, if I do say so myself.

  “Geraud is nowhere near as slim as his son, Jake. My eyesight’s fine. Trust me.” Jake nods, but he doesn’t trust me, though. He doesn’t trust anyone. That’s why he’s one of the best in the business.

  Ignoring the split mug of tea, Jake then stands up and begins pacing. I have him rattled. “Where did you see him?” This little interrogation will continue until Jake is sure that it was Adrien I saw. He has good reason to be suspicious. He attended Adrien Dumortier’s funeral a few months ago, who was supposedly buried alongside his brother Alain, although they never found his body. This was because it was widely reported that his twin brother blew him up by means of a suicide belt, which he himself had strapped to his body. You know the old adage ‘Blood is thicker than water?’ Well, that doesn’t apply when we’re talking about the Dumortier’s. They’re all as crazy as each other.

  “The Montgomery Job. He was after them, same as me, but I got there first.” I grin. I can’t help it. I’m good at what I do.

  “And you didn’t kill him?” Jake raises an eyebrow in surprise. He has every right to do so. I enjoy killing people. Nine times out of ten, I’d rather kill someone than talk to them. I’ve learnt to control the urge over the years, but let’s just say I’m in the perfect job.

  “It was tempting, but I thought you’d chew me up over it, being friends and all.”

  “Liar.” Jake gives me one of his penetrating stares. They work on most women, and I am not immune to them. Eventually, I’ll spill my guts, but there’s no reason I can’t drag this out.

  “Should I have killed him?” I bat my eyelashes and walk over to the big guy. He’s taller than Dumortier. Taller, but not hotter. Adrien is something else in the flesh. I could feel the attraction as soon as he walked into the room, and that is rare for me. I’m not a woman who’s instantly attracted to men. Generally, I’m repelled by them. I have a feeling Adrien has women falling at his feet, though.

  “No. His presence is going to throw a spanner in the works around these parts, though.” Jake takes a step back from me and rubs his eyes. “We’re going to have to work fast if we want to contain him.”

  “He doesn’t look like the containable type,” I say matter-of-factly. While I took him down fairly com
fortably back at the warehouse, he didn’t know I was there initially. If he gets prior warning of our presence next time, I don’t think he’ll be quite so easy to deal with. He has a reputation for being utterly unscrupulous and very reckless. While I have my moments, I’m not sure I want to have to deal with something quite that volatile.

  “He isn’t.” Jake’s tone is clipped. “You may need to do me a favor or two shortly. If you’re right and Dumortier is alive, we have problems.”

  The expression on his face says we have a whole lot worse than that, but now is not the time to mention it.

  “We always have problems. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be in business.” That, at least, is true.

  Jake lets loose a long sigh. “I hope you’re at the top of your game, Leader. We’re going to need to be if we want to take this one down.”

  “Well, it just so happens that I am. Besides, he’s cute. I reckon I could have some fun with this one.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Jake warns ominously. “Believe me when I tell you that his kind of fun is the kind you can do without.” I don’t get a chance to question Jake further because he’s already striding out of the room. It does make me wonder, though. What kind of thing is Adrien Dumortier in to? It must be bad for Jake to warn me in advance. It’s unlike him. Dammit. Now he has me intrigued. Whatever it is, I am now more curious than ever to find out.

  Adie

  I wake up the next morning with the sun streaming in through my window and a hangover any rock star would be proud of. The splintering and banging going on inside my head is horrendous, and I’m wondering whether the price I’m paying for a few hours of forgetfulness is really worth it. It always seems like such a great idea at the time, though.

  Stumbling to the window, still half drunk, I somehow manage to get the blinds closed. This relieves some of the pressure on my eyeballs, which currently feel like they might burst into fire at any moment. Staggering back to the bed, I then pull the duvet up over my head and pray for a miracle – one which will get rid of my blinding headache and churning stomach in an instant. Funnily enough, no such miracle appears, but I don’t move for the next two hours. Even though I desperately need water, the trek to the kitchen (a whole six meters away) is too great. Thankfully, I manage to doze on and off in that time, but when I finally come to, my headache is epic. If I don’t get some kind of fluid inside me soon, I can kiss goodbye to the entire day, and I can’t do that. I’m supposed to go into the office to finish up the report I should have done yesterday. Unfortunately, I got distracted by Elizabeth and a throbbing pair of balls – which were throbbing for all the wrong reasons.