by Jasmin Quinn
But she found it anyway, in his savagery, in his possession, her body responding, her mind finding her bliss. But no release. He didn’t intend it for her. This was for him, not her. She understood. She was being punished. Was it the start or the end? When he came, it hurt, because he used his cock as a weapon, his hands and fingers crushing into her skin. She whimpered but let him take her. It was what he expected of her. His breathing barely settled before he pulled her from her bed and dragged her to his room.
He flipped back the bed covers and pushed her into his bed, sliding in beside her. “This is your bed now, Mira, unless I say otherwise. Understand?” He rolled on his side and pulled her to him, his chest against her back, his arms cradling her.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“And no clothes unless I tell you otherwise.”
“Yes,” she said again.
He took a deep breath, then exhaled it slowly. “Tomorrow you can shower, but no touching yourself. No orgasm.”
She craned her neck to see into his face. How could he monitor that? But then she thought, perhaps he didn’t have to. Perhaps he didn’t think she’d break any more rules. It didn’t matter. He broke his own rule, rolling on top of her as the sun came up, pushing himself into her, fucking her until she screamed his name, until she came. Then shouting his release, groaning his pleasure as he came inside her.
Thirty-Nine
So much was happening all at once. Jack and Rob were in process of rebuilding lost ground, fighting for control of Vegas. It was getting bloody out there, and Mira kept asking both men to try to find a means of dealing with the escalating tensions that didn’t involve violence. If Rob were connected with anything illegal, it would work against him at trial. Neither heeded her advice. “You’re the lawyer. Do your fucking job!” Jack’s words, his anger spilling over after the death of another of his men.
The pretrial conference date was looming nearer. Boxes on top of boxes of ‘evidence’ arrived from the DA’s office. Aaron was determined to bury her so deep in shit she wouldn’t be able to find her way out in time for the trial. She tried to discuss a plea bargain with Jack and Rob, and was met not only with resistance, but outright hostility.
“Why the fuck would we plea bargain when you’ve so clearly said that the DA can’t prove a first-degree murder charge?” Jack snarled when she pulled him and Rob in for a meeting with herself and Shonan. The four of them were in Jack’s office at the estate, scotch in the men’s hands, wine in hers, sitting in armchairs around the coffee table.
Mira licked her lips. Jack was intimidating most of the time, but when he was this aggressive, he made her afraid to press her will. “Because it’s protocol. They push for first degree, we offer up manslaughter. Rob could get off for time served or spend a minimal amount of time in prison.”
“I’d be a convicted felon,” Rob said.
“Yes, but – “
Jack leaned forward, clutched her knee and dug his fingers in, “What’s going on Mira? You’re here to do a fucking job, so get it done.”
Mira forced the wetness from her eyes as she glared at Jack, “Is that all I’m fucking here for?”
“Watch your mouth when you’re talking to me and don’t turn this conversation into something it’s not. You’re here to get Rob off and that’s what you’re going to do.”
Mira shook as anger shot through her, but she chose her words carefully. They were icy, dead, carried their own weight of a threat. “At the beginning of all this, when Rob was first arrested for Amber’s death, you didn’t want it to go to trial. That’s where it’s headed now.”
“What the fuck matter does it make? Nothing about us is discreet anymore. You turned this into a side-show when you didn’t follow-up like you were told to—”
“I thought we were past that—” Mira’s anger slipped but Jack ignored her.
“And we’re in the papers every other day because Michael-fucking-Black has it in for me.”
Mira squeezed the back of her neck with her fingers. “It’s a trial by jury. Sometimes the outcome can be unpredictable.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Rob asked, his voice quieter but no less hostile.
Shonan spoke up. Finally! “It means that sometimes juries make decisions based on emotion, not evidence.” He held his scotch between both his hands like it was Kevlar vest, kept his eyes lowered. Mira wasn’t sure that she was comforted by her ally in the room. Shonan was more reluctant to push back at the Creeds than she was.
“Then make sure they don’t. Pick the right fucking people.”
Mira and Shonan exchanged a glance. Jack caught it and stared at Shonan with his hard, black eyes until Shonan dropped his.
“Okay,” Mira said softly, knowing there was going to be no talking Jack and Rob into anything but a trial. “Rob, as your counsel, it is our responsibility to advise you of all your rights. Just so Shonan and I are clear, you wish to proceed to a trial by jury for the charge of first-degree murder. You do not want a plea bargain.”
Rob nodded. “That’s exactly what I want. You said they couldn’t prove first degree, so do your fucking job and get me off.”
Mira nodded and took a sip of her wine. “I still have to meet with the DA to discuss. We won’t ask for a plea-bargain and should they offer, I’ll bring the offer to you so that you know the terms.”
“Not necessary.”
“It’s the way it works, Rob. I can’t say unequivocally no to a plea bargain until you’ve heard the terms. I’ll come to the club immediately following the conference.”
Rob looked to his older brother, who nodded.
“Day’s over,” Jack stood up. To Rob and Shonan, he said, “Get out, both of you.”
Once they were alone, Jack turned to Mira. “Rob is the most important thing to me in this world. Don’t fucking lose.”
Hurt sliced through Mira though she already knew the order of rank in Jack’s life. She didn’t want to compete with Rob and she wasn’t secure enough to ask Jack where she stood in his world order. She wondered what would happen to her if Rob turned on her, she wondered if she had the energy to make sure he didn’t. “I understand.”
He moved to the couch, sat beside her as he took her wineglass from her hand and set it on the table. “Do you, Mira? Do you truly understand what Rob means to me?” His fingers were caressing the lines of her face, his words held a dangerous edge.
“He’s family.” Mira’s voice wavered. “He’s your family. I understand, Jack.”
He pressed his lips to her neck, to her ear, to her lips. Then he made sure she fully understood as he forced her to her knees, forced her to take his cock in her mouth, forced her to blow him until he came, until she swallowed his semen, until she moaned his name.
Forty
The pre-trail conference ended quickly. Since neither party put a plea-bargain on the table, there was little to discuss other than Aaron requesting an interview with Rob, which Mira adamantly refused. She and Shonan were summarily dismissed. It had taken longer to find a parking spot than to conclude the meeting.
They stood on the steps of the courthouse, talking about next steps, feeling a small sense of relief that they could ease back for a day or two. Hector brought the car around and they slid into the back seat, immersed in their conversation, not paying attention to their surroundings, the travel, where they were going until Mira looked up and saw that they were headed out of the city.
“Hector, we need to go to the club. Rob and Jack will want to hear about the meeting.”
Hector nodded. “Sorry, my mistake, senorita. I’ll turn around up here.”
Mira turned her attention back to Shonan as Hector slowed, but Shonan was distracted. “What the fuck, Hector?”
Mira looked up sharply. They’d pulled off the highway and onto a sandy, dirt road, then braked to a stop on the side. Something was seriously wrong and she felt a chill creep up her spine as she grabbed Shonan’s hand.
“It’s okay Mira,”
Shonan said, squeezing her fingers, even though his voice held a quiver.
Hector put the car in park, turned off the ignition and wordlessly stepped from the car, closing the door behind him. Shonan pulled the door handle tentatively, a grim set to his features. “I’ll go talk to him. Stay here. Call Jack.”
He stepped out of the car and had barely cleared the door when Hector shot him in the heart, the discharge of the gun reverberating through desert. Mira saw the bloom of blood as it spread on Shonan’s suit jacket, the look of surprise then understanding as it skimmed across his face and then him falling to his knees and toppling over. He was dead, his eyes open, staring. Mira clutched her hands in her hair and started screaming his name. She scrambled from the car, not thinking she might be next to fall as she dropped to her knees and clutched at him, pulled him to her, holding him. Her cries, her screams were relentless, she couldn’t make them stop. Shonan’s name on her lips, her moaning, “I’m so sorry, so sorry” as she wept. Her body was shaking, she couldn’t stop it from shaking and icy cold, even under the Nevada sun. Shonan was… had been… her friend, her partner, the sane part of her world.
And Hector, she looked up into his face. “You sonofabitch,” she shrieked as she shot to her feet and launched herself at him. If she was next, she was going to go down fighting, but he caught her before she could hit him, wrenched her arms around her back and slammed her down on the hood of the car.”
“Your ride’s on its way, Ms. Mira,” he said, and as she screamed at him, struggled under his hold, kicked out at him, he wrenched her arm brutally up her back. “Behave or I’ll make you behave.”
It seemed like hours, Hector holding her down, her arms wrenched back, but it wasn’t. A minute or two, enough to ease her panic back to grief, from screaming and cursing, to weeping. Then the sound of a vehicle pulling up reached her ears, the presence of others rippled through the dead air, and the deep silky voice of a man stroked her pain. “Let her up, Hector.”
Hector eased his hand off her neck and pulled her up, keeping her wrists tightly encased in his grip, her arms still wrenched, “Okay, but she’s a bit of a hell cat.” He turned her and she saw that there were three of them, all men, two carrying semi-automatic rifles, and the man speaking, dressed in a suit, tall, unruffled, gazing darkly at her, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. She knew who he was, the ghost Jack had been hunting.
Michael Black.
She didn’t want to cry anymore, not in front of this savage, bit her bottom lip to help centre her, but the tears slid out anyway. “Why the fuck did you have to kill Shonan?”
The men around Michael tensed, but he didn’t. “Ah, friends and lovers. Will Creed be as sad to see the end of this lawyer as you are?”
Mira tried to struggle from Hector’s grip, wanted to rip the smirk off the pretty face of the man in front of her and was rewarded with a sharp wrench of her arms. She whimpered from the pain. “He didn’t have to die!” She was weeping again, her heart shredding for Shonan, for herself.
Michael glanced at Hector. “His death was Hector’s decision. I try to not second-guess my employees.” He grinned then, a sudden charisma rolling off him, making Mira’s stomach clench. “I hear that a strength-based management program makes a stronger organization. Perhaps I should talk to your boyfriend about it. Perhaps then Hector would still be loyal to him.”
Mira tried to lash out him, wanted to mar his perfect features with the pointy ends of her fingernails, but Hector held her tight. Michael appeared tired of the game anyway as he looked past her to Hector. “Let’s go, leave the car and the body. They’ll find them both quick enough.”
They hustled her into the back seat of the SUV and she found herself crushed between Michael Black and Hector. Michael looked over at her, at her suit jacket and blouse, then up to Hector. “Her blood?” His expression never wavered but his voice held deadly intent.
Hector shook his head. “Shonan’s. She had herself a party with the corpse.”
Michael stared down at Mira. “You need to be little more hard-hearted, Mira. You’re about to lose a few more friends.”
Forty-One
Andre rushed into Jack’s office at the club. By the look on his face, Jack knew the news was not good. He steeled himself. “Mira.”
Rob jumped to his feet from the chair he’d been sitting in. “What?” he barked.
“We found the car. Shonan’s dead. Mira’s gone.”
Jack froze, his mind trying to process Andre’s words. Fuck, fuck. “Fuck!”
Rob took over as Jack leaned against his desk trying to catch his breath, trying to steel his fear. “Do the cops know?”
Andre shook his head. “We’ve moved the body and the car back to the estate. No one knows anything for the moment.”
Rob nodded. “Okay, keep it that way. How’d he die?”
“Looks like a bullet to the heart. Almost point blank.”
“Where’s Hector?” Jack said suddenly.
“Don’t know yet. Doesn’t make sense that they’d shoot the lawyer and not Hector.”
Rob added, “It doesn’t make sense that they were on their way home. They were supposed to come here after the conference.”
Jack ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Fuck!” he said again. “The bastard turned Hector.”
Rob turned to Andre, “Spread the men out. Try to find him.”
Andre hesitated. “What if it’s more than Hector? Who do we trust?”
Jack’s fury grew at his impotence. The fucking prick had Mira! If she was hurt, he would hunt Black down for the rest of his life; he would kill everyone associated with him, including Isabelle. No one would be safe. “Doesn’t matter if there’s others,” he growled. “Fucking prick has what he wants. Find Hector.”
Andre left and Rob turned to Jack. “What now?”
“Nothing now. The club opens, business as usual. I don’t want the fucking cops involved in this and I don’t want you involved either. It’s between me and him now. I just have to find him.”
Rob nodded but looked at his brother, unconvinced. Jack could see the pain in Rob’s eyes, the news of Amber’s death, how she died, how she was disposed of. Jack thought maybe he deserved the pain that was ripping through him. When Amber died, he had a senseless little thought of how exposed she made Rob; that it was Rob’s doing for letting himself be so vulnerable. Now he knew. Love trumps stupid. He didn’t think he’d survive if something happened to Mira.
He took out his cell phone, dialed the Mirage, requested Hugo Marsden’s room. No answer. He hung up. To Rob, he said, “I’m going to talk to Hugo. You stay here, keep your head down. You have more at stake right now than I do.”
Rob crossed his arms over his chest as he studied his brother. “That’s bullshit, Jack, and you know it. Bring her back and don’t get killed.”
Jack nodded grimly and turned.
He drove to the Mirage alone, no Andre, no other men. He needed to find Hugo, find out what he knew. And Hugo would know, or he’d find out. As he parked, he wondered what Hugo was doing in Vegas anyway. The man rarely stayed in one place, had no allegiances, sold himself to the highest bidder. Even the cops used him once in a while as a bounty hunter. Jack never considered him a friend, was always guarded when they met, but they’d shared drinks, meals, raucous conversation, even a woman once. Hugo would help him find Mira, if he didn’t already know where she was.
When Jack walked into the Mirage, there was a stir of speculation. Staff knew who he was, everyone in Vegas knew who he was. And he was standing in the lobby of the Mirage, alone, no bodyguards. Nothing to stop anyone from putting a bullet through his brain. He recognized the hotel manager, a man named Walker and approached him. “Where’s Ed?” he asked. Ed was the CEO of the Mirage, ran it ruthlessly, kept it in the black.
“He’s out of town, Mr. Creed. Is there something I can help you with?”
Jack didn’t hesitate. No one in this town said no to him. “Hugo Marsden’s staying here. T
ake me to his room.”
Walker nodded. “Of course.”
Jack stood by the bank of elevators until the manager returned.
“He’s on 12th floor,” Walker said as he pushed the button.
When they reached Marsden’s room, Jack rapped on the door, then when there was no response, turned to Walker. “Open it.”
The manager nodded, slid the key card in and stepped aside as Jack entered the suite. He searched each room, no one was here. He turned to the Walker. “I’m going to wait here. Go find him. He’s probably in the casino. Just asked for David Tracker over the loudspeaker. When he shows, tell him I’m waiting in his room. Tell him I’m unarmed. I don’t want to fucking get shot by the asshole.”
Walker nodded and left with his instructions. Jack poured himself a whiskey from the bar fridge and sat on a chair facing the door. Marsden didn’t stay alive as long as he had by letting himself be ambushed. Yeah, they got along, but in this world that didn’t mean very fucking much. It only took 15 minutes for Marsden to arrive. If Jack survived this, he told himself to send Walker a Christmas card. The guy was smart and efficient, maybe someone he could use.
Hugo Marsden pretty much blocked the doorway as he entered. Big man in every way, weather beaten face that smiled easily, wild, sandy hair, a couple of days growth of whiskers, blue eyes and dangerous as fuck. But when he walked into the room, his hands were free of weapons. He eyed Jack, grinned widely. “Didn’t expect to see your ugly face gracing the Mirage.”
