Xavier O’Brien

by Ingro, Jessica

  He was king of this fucking show and he was done with letting other people think they could pull one over on him. Done with rats and people with their own agendas. Done with liars and thieves and men who coveted what they couldn’t have.

  But most of all, he was done with not knowing where his fiancée was.

  The fact that Marx wasn’t lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood was evidence of how badly Xavier needed to find Aurora. For now, he needed Marx alive because something in his gut told him he had come to the right place.

  Straightening his tie, he spoke carefully and measured so as to not let his irritation show. “Seems mighty coincidental that you fall off the grid on the same day Aurora does as well.”

  Marx was a hell of a poker player. His face betrayed nothing. Not a single twitch or emotion showed.

  “Is there a point?” Ascertaining Xavier wasn’t as big of a threat as he initially assumed, Marx sank into the chair across from him. He picked up the decanter of scotch and poured himself two fingers worth into a crystal glass. When Xavier didn’t answer, Marx continued, “Maybe you should ask the question, Xavier, instead of hinting.”

  “Where were you?” It had nearly eaten him alive that no one could locate Marx. No one in his encampment was talking. Not because they couldn’t be persuaded. No, it was because it would seem they didn’t actually know.

  “I had business to attend to.” His left shoulder shrugged carelessly and Xavier imagined putting a bullet in it.

  “So you expect me to sit here and go along with the fact that you had business that caused you to disappear for the last four days when Aurora vanished at the same time?”

  “I’m not asking you to believe anything.” He shrugged again, his face still a mask of coolness. Xavier flexed his hand, trying to soothe the need to physically lash out at the man in front of him. It wouldn’t get him the information he was in search of. No, Marx was the type of man you had to reason with and make him feel like he was getting something out of the deal.

  “You also don’t seem at all surprised by the fact that Aurora is gone.” The words sliced his throat on their way out, but he was becoming accustomed to the burn and pain. They were his penance in this whole fucked up situation.

  Marx sighed and shook his head. Xavier waited with barely concealed impatience as Marx downed his scotch and then refilled his drink.

  “You know I have methods of obtaining information,” Marx finally spoke. “Just as a young Alyssa Swanson’s name had made its way to me all those months ago, so did the news of her defection.” He looked Xavier over before sneering. “It would seem she’s finally come to her senses.”

  Xavier was out of his chair; his fist in Marx’s collar faster than the man could blink. Just as quickly, his other fist connected with Marx’s face making the man stagger slightly, caught off guard by the change in circumstances.

  Marx recovered quickly though and pushed Xavier off, his own fist flying through the air. Xavier ducked, throwing his shoulder into Marx’s abdomen and pushing him back.

  Their war dance continued from there—an inevitable one that had been brewing for months.

  Fueled by his anger over Marx’s feelings for Aurora, his anxiety over her disappearance and the fact that he hated not being in control, Xavier was an animal free of his leash and intent on devouring anything in his path.

  Grunts and groans filled the air as each one attempted to outdo the other. The scotch spilled and the glasses shattered in the tousle. Both of the men ended up on the floor as their fists tried to find purchase on the other’s body.

  The air left Xavier’s body on a whoosh when Marx punched him in his gut. Recovering from the blow, Xavier attempted to knee him. The sick thought that if he got him in his junk, he’d be harder pressed to hit on Aurora crossing his mind.

  “Get the fuck off of me,” Marx growled, breaking his usually cultured manner. His hand pushed on Xavier’s face. Xavier got in one more punch to the man’s side before rolling off.

  The two of them lay side by side on the floor, regaining their composure and taking stock of their injuries.

  “Are you happy now?” Marx swiped at blood oozing from a cut on his cheek.

  “Hardly,” Xavier grunted in response, his hand pushing on a particularly tender spot on his ribs.

  The silence between them settled as their breathing finally regulated. It was laced with all the baggage that had grown between the two men who once had been allies. Still could be if Marx wasn’t deliberately trying to destroy Xavier’s trust.

  “Even if I knew where she was, do you really think I’d tell you?” Marx stared intently at him.

  “I’m not naïve. I know better than to trust that you aren’t lying to me.”

  “You’ve trusted a lot of things you shouldn’t,” Marx reminded him, only serving to rekindle the fire that had been growing inside Xavier’s veins. There was still a rat in his Den and he didn’t like having it thrown in his face. “You should probably quit while you’re ahead. Get your gut checked.”

  Xavier sat up, his knee bent and his arm hanging over it casually, attempting to hide the fact that he wanted to murder Marx more than he wanted to take his next breath. When he spoke, his tone was cold and calculated. “I’m going to be watching you.”

  Marx sat up as well, deflecting the threat. “I’ve no doubt you will. But maybe you should consider letting her go instead.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Xavier’s derisive tone left no wonder to how he felt about the suggestion.

  “Maybe.” Marx shrugged and stood up, dusting his pants off before heading out of the room to the hall that led to the bedrooms. He turned back before disappearing around a corner and left his parting shot. “Instead of continuing to dictate her life for her, maybe you should sit back and consider what’s actually best for Aurora before you tear the city apart looking for her. You can see yourself out.”

  Xavier scoffed after the other man disappeared.

  What was best for Aurora was him.

  Wasn’t it?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ghost

  Ghost paced back and forth in his office, his hand clenched tightly around his cell phone. He’d been avoiding making this call for too long. Stalling wasn’t getting him anywhere.

  His fingers reluctantly moved across the keypad. When it began ringing, he brought the device to his ear and braced himself.

  “Where is she?” His boss demanded to know.

  “We don’t know.” He internally cringed as the words left his mouth. Knowledge was power and it would seem there were a lot of things they didn’t know these days. They had been effectively blinded for months now thanks to their unknown rat.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Xavier O’Brien roared on the other end of the line.

  “She’s wind,” was all he said in return.

  And she was. Aurora was proving to be elusive as fuck. How she disappeared into thin air was beyond any of them. It wasn’t sitting well with Ghost or any of the other men on the team looking for her. He just hoped she wasn’t in any danger. Not just because his boss would never be able to recover if anything happened to Aurora or Sophie, but because every single person at The Den cared for Aurora.

  The moment he laid eyes on the young, timid girl on the front steps of The Den, Ghost had thought Aurora would be nothing more than a pain in his ass. While he certainly was right, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He had grown a genuine affection for Aurora.

  The way she changed Xavier’s life had only been for the better. After watching Xavier become harder as he delved deeper into the underworld following his family deaths, that fact alone would have made him care for her. But it wasn’t just that. It was the fact that she was funny and real and cared about everyone around her.

  Caring for her the way he did, didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tan her ass when they found her though.

  Ghost would be out of his mind if it were his girl and kid on the r
un, evading them. He wouldn’t be able to eat, sleep or think without knowing their whereabouts. The fact that Xavier had surprisingly kept it together after a whole week of looking for Aurora was a damn near miracle.

  “Find her,” was the low, dark command.

  “I won’t stop until we do,” Ghost assured the man he owed everything to. “In the meantime, we’ve made progress on our other situation.”

  “Oh?” Quiet. Lethal. Xavier O’Brien was ready to take his anger and frustration out on someone.

  Ghost pitied the person who caught the entirety of his wrath.

  Almost.

  “Our rat is in its trap.”

  Months of trying to figure out who was selling their secrets with no answer, and all it took in the end was a tiny slipup to expose the traitor. How Ghost never saw it before was beyond him, but now that he knew, it all made perfect sense.

  Xavier was going to be thrilled to mete out his punishment.

  Ghost was going to be overjoyed to watch and know that his boss was getting some semblance of revenge for all that had been done to him, his family and Aurora.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  The line disconnected and Ghost smiled.

  Cracking his knuckles he left his plush office and headed straight into the inner bowels of The Den.

  * * *

  Xavier

  Xavier strode through the halls of The Den with purpose, ignoring anyone who might get in his way. If he couldn’t have Aurora at his side, he could at least have some retribution by squeezing the life out of the rat that caused him so much fucking trouble.

  His mood was at an all-time low. Not even after his sister and mother died had he sank this deep. He wasn’t sure Aurora’s light could even help him and at this point, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be saved from the dark place he was wrapped up in.

  When he hit the room where all their wet work was done, he gripped the door handle and took a deep breath to steady himself. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get trigger happy, which would go against his deep seated need to slowly and methodically hurt someone.

  The door groaned as he pulled it open. When he stepped into the room, the smell of fear and blood permeated the air. It would seem Ghost had started without him.

  Let the fun begin.

  * * *

  “What the fuck is this?” Xavier barked out when he saw Ghost standing over a man named Walker. He was new to The Den, barely there for two months. Shit had been going on for way too long for him to be the rat. Or rather the rat.

  Ghost turned, blood dripping from the brass knuckles on his hand. His face was hard, his mouth in a tight line and his brows drawn ominously. In front of him, tied to a metal chair was Walker. He was five foot ten and stocky. He was also ex-military—one of the only reasons that got him hired at The Den because he would take a bullet protecting the girls.

  Walker glared at Xavier, his one eye swollen. There’d be no pissing his pants or begging for his life. Walker knew the score and was prepared to go down. The only question was what information would he give them before he did.

  “Walker was just learning the value of not ignoring my questions,” Ghost answered him with a twisted grin on his face.

  Walker spit blood onto the concrete and spat “Fuck you” at Ghost.

  When Ghost made to turn back and continue his work on Walker, Xavier stopped him.

  “A moment.” He gestured for Ghost to join him at the doorway. When the man did, he whispered hotly, “What the fuck is this? Walker can’t be the rat.”

  “Nope,” Ghost concurred. “But he’s working for the rat. Some bitch Portia spouted crazy shit in my ear this morning. I want Walker to back it up before we lure the real rat into the trap.”

  “By all means then.” Xavier held his arm out for Ghost, who cracked his knuckles and did that crazy grin again that meant Walker was in trouble.

  The first crack of the knuckles on the man’s cheek opened up a gaping wound. The second crack seemed to echo throughout the entire room, causing the man on the receiving end to grunt in pain. The third crack was followed by the sound of his nose breaking. Walker howled but never uttered a word.

  Xavier drew a knife from his back pocket and began twisting it in his grip as Ghost continued working. Kicks and punches came one after the other as the air turned more and more acrid with blood, sweat and terror.

  During a lull in activity, Xavier finally spoke to the asshole who thought he could bite the hand that fed him. “What do you have to say for yourself, Walker?”

  “Fuck you,” the man replied with almost as much venom as he had when Xavier first arrived.

  Xavier gave an aggrieved sigh, even though inside he was elated to get to take this to the next level.

  Gripping the knife tighter, he closed the distance between himself and Walker. Ghost stepped to the side, his hand flexing as he did.

  Walker’s face was pretty fucked up already, forcing Xavier to have to be a little more creative. With the tip of the knife resting below Walker’s eye, Xavier exerted pressure on it and watched as it slowly sank into the skin. Walker’s gaze held his, obstinance shining in his eyes.

  Slowly yet surely, Xavier let the knife trail down his face. A gash opened up in its wake and Walker growled.

  When he still didn’t speak, Xavier moved the blade to the man’s chest. Slicing his t-shirt open, he began carving the skin. Grunts and groans passed Walker’s lips, but each time Xavier asked him who he was working with, the man refused to answer.

  Feeling more irritated than he had when he entered the room, Xavier was ready to be done with this. Sure, it was a form of stress relief to take out his anger and frustration on someone, but Walker was a piece of shit. Xavier just wanted to know who was behind this whole fucking thing almost as much as he wanted to know where Aurora was.

  Deciding he was done, Xavier instructed Ghost to remove Walker’s pants. Unsurprisingly, Walker resisted. The fucker knew what was coming. His body twisted and his feet kicked out. In the end, Ghost overpowered him and restrained him back to the chair once he was fully naked.

  “You’ve left me no choice,” Xavier spoke calmly and Walker’s eyes shot to his. “I’m going to slice your dick off and force you to suck it.”

  Xavier could see Walker’s throat work as he swallowed hard. Indecisiveness played on his face—a face that now looked more like ground hamburger than it did a man’s.

  No man wanted to lose his dick. And no man wanted a cock, especially their own, shoved down their throat.

  Walker wasn’t sure if Xavier meant it or if he should call his bluff. In the end, it took too long for him to decide, so Xavier chose to make the decision for him.

  It took two steps for Xavier to make it to his spot between Walker’s legs. He leaned down and raised his arm. The blade was tinged with blood, with a small amount of silver still glinting under the lights.

  With sick satisfaction, he watched Walker’s eyes pinch tightly shut. His whole body tensed, readying itself for the next step.

  Xavier brought the blade to the root of the man’s cock. The blade was sharp, but it wasn’t sharp enough to make it through something of this magnitude quickly and easily. That meant it took considerable pressure behind the cut. Pressure Xavier began asserting.

  Something deep inside Xavier sat up and reared its demented head. Behind it the darkness surged and swallowed Xavier’s rationale side.

  Blood rushed to the surface of the slash, spilling down Walker’s thighs. He wailed in pain and tears fell down his face.

  Xavier looked at him as if watching from outside his body. He couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to.

  “I’ll talk. I’ll talk,” Walker yelled. Xavier didn’t hear him though. He was too far gone.

  It was Ghost’s hands pulling him away from their task that finally broke the spell. He shook his head and dropped the knife. It clinked against the concrete and bounced twice before landing at his feet.

  “We need
him alive,” Ghost whispered harshly in his ear. Xavier nodded, barely cognizant of anything besides the sounds of Walker and his agony.

  “Talk,” Xavier eventually grit out through a locked jaw, his control barely in his grasp.

  “Candy.” Walker gasped and his head lolled on his shoulder. He was losing too much blood.

  “You’re shitting me.” Xavier’s eyes narrowed and his fist clenched.

  How the fuck was that bitch capable of playing him this whole time?

  “Talk to Candy,” were the last words wheezed out before Walker stopped breathing.

  Xavier turned to Ghost with a look of shock.

  “I was surprised, too,” Ghost answered his unspoken question. “But there’s more.”

  “Fuck.” Xavier scrubbed his hands down his face, realizing too late that meant he got blood on himself. “I’m going to clean up. Take care of this shit and then bring Candy to me.”

  “Right boss.”

  Xavier stormed out of there no more restrained than he had been when he arrived.

  This was far from over.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Candy

  I whimpered as Ghost threw me on the concrete floor at Xavier’s feet. Not so much because it hurt—though it didn’t feel great when my palms scraped the surface—but because I knew what was coming.

  Death.

  Tears pricked my eyes at the realization that my poor baby girl was going to grow up without me. I could scream at how unfair it all was. My only hope and prayer right then was that Sasha’s dad would finally step up to the plate and take care of her while I was gone.

  I glanced up and barely made out the room surrounding us thanks to the sweat and tears in my eyes. It was a large open space that reeked of sweat, blood and fear. Though I was sure the fear was coming from me and me alone.

  “So,” Xavier began. I looked up to find him toying with the blade of a knife. The sharp tip pricked into his skin making every fight or flight response in my body fire at full throttle and my bladder threatening to empty itself. “It would seem you’ve committed a few transgressions, Candy.”