by Lane Hart
“You condone that sort of thing?” Torin glowers.
“Not personally, no,” Ivan replies, seeming completely unoffended at Torin’s gruff tone. “It’s just a reality of the sex industry. The women who are willing to do such things will do it regardless of my feelings on the matter, so the best thing I can do for them is make sure they have the resources they need to do it in a responsible manner. It makes the girls and the patrons happy, and I can’t deny that it’s fairly lucrative.”
“Even after the cleaning bills?” Chase grins.
“Oh, we don’t bother with that,” Ivan replies, immediately wiping the smile off of Chase’s face.
“He’s kidding, right?” Chase says weakly as he stands up as much as the low ceiling will allow, rubbing a hand across the leather seat. “Oh god, it feels moist,” he groans, quickly swiping his hand across his jeans.
“That’s just your sweaty ass,” Torin barks. “Of course he’s kidding. Sit down, shut up, and get your head in the game. If you get hurt, Sasha will murder me.”
“And don’t ever say ‘moist’ again,” Dalton laughs. “You’re going to ruin strippers for all of us with that kind of talk. God, I hate that word.”
Despite Torin’s warning, our banter continues until the limos pull into the back parking lot of a huge stucco building covered in multi-colored neon tubing. We quickly make our way inside, the interior of the building looking sterile and uninviting without the black lights or any of the normal club ambience currently on display.
“Where’s the champagne room?” I ask Ivan immediately, eager to get settled.
“I’ll show you all to the private rooms,” Ivan replies. “You’re not planning to deal with Kozlov alone, are you? No reason to take any unnecessary chances.”
“He won’t be alone,” Torin interrupts. “Sax, you’re with Miles. Keep him from ruining the room, will you? We want Kozlov dead, but we don’t need his guts hanging from the ceiling.”
Sax nods in agreement, then we follow Ivan down the hall with the rest of the Kings. Sax is a good pick for a partner. We’re brothers in the club, but not close friends. He spends more time out on his boat than on his motorcycle, making runs up and down the coast. He’s our smuggler, and I know he’s got the guts to handle any dirty jobs that come his way.
The champagne room is just as gaudy as you would expect. The walls are covered in wood panels painted with golden designs. Spotlights set in the ceiling highlight a glass shower stall set in one corner, while a hot tub burbles merrily across from it.
Peeking his head inside, Dalton says, “Oh dude, you should totally hide in the hot tub. You could explode up from the water, then grab him and stuff his face into a jet!”
“I would prefer we leave the hot tub out of this,” Ivan sighs.
“They’re not going to be here for another hour, anyhow, dipshit,” I tell Dalton. “You think Sax and I want to soak our nuts together while we wait?”
“Hell no,” Sax says before Dalton can reply.
With a small nod, Ivan backs out of the room and starts to pull the door closed. “Remember, when they arrive outside, we’ll start the music. Once you hear us switch to an AC/DC album, they’ll be on their way to the room.”
“AC/DC, got it,” Sax nods as he takes a seat on the single, high-backed wooden chair in the room. It looks more like a prop for the dancers rather than a functional piece of furniture, but it holds the smaller man’s weight without creaking. That leaves the weary-looking loveseat for me.
Once I sink down into the cushion and realize how uncomfortable it is, I see that Sax made the right decision. I lean forward and ask him, “You okay with all this? You spend most of your time offshore, and I feel kind of bad dragging you in for this shitshow.”
“Yeah, of course, Miles,” Sax replies, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Are you okay? It’s not like you to be, I don’t know…concerned for my feelings.”
“I’m good, man. Hell, I’m probably the best I’ve ever been in my life. This girl, Kira, she’s something else. Hooking up with her sort of led to all this shit, though, and I just don’t want any of you guys holding it against her.”
“Shit, man, I know, don’t worry. You’re the knucklehead that offed those Russians and led us down this road.” Sax laughs, waving a hand to stop me before I can protest. “I don’t blame anyone. We all chose this life willingly, knowing full well there would be days like this. I can’t promise I’m going to like your girl, though.”
“What do you mean by that?” I demand, instantly offended on her behalf.
“Whatever she did to you made you chattier than my granny at church. If I had known you were going to be this ‘talkie’, I would have asked to be paired with Dalton.”
“Now that’s god-damned offensive,” I reply with a chuckle. “You take that back and I’ll settle down, all right? I just wanted everyone to know that I’m responsible for this, and I appreciate the help cleaning the shit up.”
“Yeah, yeah, save it for the table,” Sax says as he crosses his arms and leans the chair back against the wall. “Look, the plan is solid. All we have to do is be cool for a bit, handle our business, and I can get home in time to get dinner with One-Eye and catch the tide.”
“Who the hell is ‘One-Eye’? I know you ain’t running around with a chick with that nick-name.”
“Nah, man, One-Eye is my cat,” he says. “Found it on a wharf down in Tijuana. He had been scrapping with something and had lost an eye and an ear to it. I fed him part of a tamale I had bought out on the street, and after that he wouldn’t stop following me around. He came on board the boat, and he’s lived with me ever since.”
I stare at Sax in silence after he finished talking, until he finally shifts his chair forward in irritation and demands, “What?”
“Of all the things you could have picked up in Tijuana, you got a Mexican cat!” I laugh. “Does he understand any English, or did you have to learn some Spanish to call him?”
“He’s a damned cat, you dumbass, not a Mexican,” Sax scowled. “You sure this Kira chick didn’t give you some sort of disease that makes you fucking weird?”
“Maybe she did,” I sigh as I sink back into the couch. “If you count love as a disease, then yeah, I think I might have it.”
“All right, that’s it,” Sax groans. “One more line like that and I’m not going to sit with Dalton, I’m going to send him in here to sit with you.”
I can’t believe I’m still laughing, or how giddy I feel even in our current circumstances. I honor Sax’s request, though, and we sit together listening as the club DJ gets the sound system set up and begins shuffling through his playlist. I’m surprised at how well Sax handles the waiting as the minutes drag out into the first hour. I served as a sniper, so I can sit still all day waiting on the perfect opportunity. I didn’t expect Sax to have that kind of discipline, but I’m pleasantly surprised when he remains focused and uncomplaining as we listen eagerly for every change of song.
After what feels like an eternity, AC/DC’s “Back in Black” begins booming from the speakers. Sax is on his feet immediately, his pistol with the suppressor in place already in his hand. “I’ll kill the lights and stand by the switch,” he says. “When she closes him in here, I’ll flip them on, and back up your play.”
I nod to him and take my place on the far side of the door, both of us out of sight from the hallway. When the door swings open and light from the hall spills in, we hear a feminine giggle followed by, “Go on in, baby. I’ll grab the lights and get this party started!”
I hear a heavy grunt that might be something in Russian just before the door slams shut, leaving us all in the pitch darkness for a split second before Sax flips on the lights. Standing before me is a tall, lean man with a badly receding hairline, still smiling in anticipation of his upcoming ‘champagne special.’
As his eyes meet mine, he looks puzzled, but before he can fully register who I am or what I’m doing inside the dark room, I rais
e my pistol and fire twice, directly into his forehead. No words were spoken or needed, and the assassination is over within three seconds of Kozlov entering the room.
His body collapses to the shaggy carpet in a limp heap, the expression on his face frozen in vague surprise and confusion. “Quick and efficient,” Sax nods. “Good to see your girl hasn’t changed that about you. Wasn’t there anything you wanted to ask him, though?”
“No. There was nothing that motherfucker could say that would change what he did to my wife and her family. You don’t reason with people like this,” I add, going over to kick Kozlov’s leg. “You just put them down and go on about your business. Speaking of which, it sounds like we’re being called to the stage for our dance.”
Sax nods to the speaker, where the DJ is calling out a list of obvious stage names, asking “Jasmine, Onyx, and Steel to make their way to the main stage.” We duck into the hallway, which is now filled with other Savage Kings, all of their faces resolute and stony, thankfully still in one piece. Without speaking, we file down the back hallway to the curtained stage, fanning out as we wait for our cue.
Once we’re in position, with the sounds of the Russian’s raucous laughter only a few feet away from us, Ivan nods to someone at the side of the stage. Instead of opening slowly, the curtain drops from the ceiling, suddenly revealing our huge group of leather clad warriors crowded onto the stage. The group of gang members gathered only a few feet away barely have time to gasp before a hail of bullets descends upon them, a dozen corpses flying out of their chairs to the floor below us.
“Make sure they’re dead,” Torin orders as the Savage Kings leap off the stage, moving amongst the bodies. “We good?” he asks a moment later as our men check on the Russians, twice administering a coup de grace to at least two of the men on the ground.
“We’re clear,” Chase finally replies. “Ivan, you still want us to pile the bodies up in the kitchen?”
“That would be ideal,” Ivan says, stepping down from the stage. “If you’ll have your men check, they’ll find some large rolls of plastic wrap for the bodies in my office. Wrap the bodies and take them through the kitchen to the loading dock. I arranged to have a delivery made to our kitchen this afternoon. We’ll back the truck up, unload our necessities, and then send our recently departed guests off to their final rest.”
“You sure you don’t need our help getting rid of the bodies?” Torin asks.
“Don’t worry about that. We have an arrangement with a local crematorium just for this sort of special occasion. By this time tomorrow, all of this will just be a dusty memory, scattered to the wind.”
“Let’s get this done, then,” Sax says from just behind me, slapping me on the shoulder. “The sooner we wrap these boys up, the sooner you can get back to your honeymoon.”
“Hell yes,” I sigh in relief, “and you can get back to your little One-Eyed pussy, right?”
“Your what?” Dalton’s laughter is jarring as we stand amongst the pile of bodies. “Oh shit, Miles, tell us, tell us! You can’t just say something like that and walk off.”
“You better,” Sax warns me. “Not a word to that one; I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Shut up and start wrapping!” Torin snaps. “I’ve got a wife and kids waiting on me, and I don’t intend to spend a second longer than I have to smelling these stinking Russian guts!”
“Yes, daddy,” Dalton says with a roll of his eyes as he bends down to grab a body.
I help him as we begin to finish up our grim work. Inwardly, I feel like I’m flying, more elated and freer than I can remember ever feeling before in my life.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kira
“Shh,” Sasha says when she stands up abruptly in the middle of the living room. “Turn the television down.”
Lexi grabs the remote and mutes the afternoon news. Sasha had wanted to check and see who picked up the story she had hoped to scoop.
“Do you hear that?” Sasha asks once the house is quiet.
“Thunder?” Nova asks with her brow furrowed.
“No,” Sasha responds with a grin spreading across her face. “That’s not thunder. That’s a convoy of Harleys!”
“Let’s go see!” Audrey squeals from the kitchen table where she’s been playing checkers with War’s son Ren. Jumping up from her chair, she grabs his small hand, pulling him along as they race down the stairs with the rest of us following behind. I’m bringing up the rear since running down stairs and pregnancy don’t mix very well. It may be early, but I’ve already developed the ‘clumsies’ my mother warned me she had while pregnant after I told her our good news on the phone last night. And I’ve already grown pretty damn attached to our little bean.
“It could just be more of the Myrtle Beach guys, right?” Peyton, Dalton’s wife, says from beside me on the steps like she’s trying not to get her hopes up. “Do you really think they’re back already?”
“God, I hope so,” I tell her.
When we walk out the front door and gather around with the rest of the women, our four Myrtle Beach Kings are opening the gated entrance to let a herd of black motorcycles into the driveway.
My chest grows heavy with my racing pulse as I hold my breath waiting for Miles to come riding up. One by one the women disperse, going to their men.
And I could slap Miles for being one of the last riders to pull in.
“Thank god,” I say in relief. I’m down the steps and beside his bike before his helmet is off. “You’re okay. Is everyone…are the rest of the guys okay?” I ask in concern. I’ve become friends with these women and really don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s heartache.
“Hell yeah,” Miles says, reaching his arm out to pull me to him before he even stands up from the seat. Our lips collide, and then we’re grabbing and pulling frantically at each other as our tongues delve in and out of each other’s mouths.
When Miles grips my shoulders to push me away from him, it’s only long enough for him to throw his leg over his bike; and then he’s hefting me up in his arms and my legs are around his waist.
“Tell me which bedroom is yours so I can rip your clothes off,” he growls as he carries me toward the front door.
“But –” I start to ask if it’s the time or place with so many other people around us. Then I glance over the driveway and see it’s empty. I guess we’re not the only ones with the same plan. Hopefully someone thought to take the kids to the beach. “Second floor, last door on the left,” I respond.
We kiss the whole way up the stairs, and then finally we’re in a room. I’m not entirely certain if it’s my room or someone else’s, and right now I don’t care, because Miles lowers me to the bed and then his hard body is on top of mine.
“I missed you,” I tell him while attempting to remove his cut at the same time he’s pulling my shirt off over my head.
“You have no fucking idea how much I missed you,” Miles tells me, dark eyes staring into mine. Eyes that I once thought were scary and intimidating are now comforting from my fierce protector.
“I love you,” he mumbles gruffly before his gaze lowers, his lips and tongue teasing my breast while he unhooks my bra and tosses it away. I’ve already learned that my protector doesn’t like to be vulnerable, so my heart swells whenever he is.
“I love you too,” I tell him as his mouth moves lower to gently kiss my belly while his rough hands tear off my bottoms.
Miles stands up long enough to remove every piece of his own clothing. My mouth waters at the sight of his sculpted chest and abs. And just seeing his thick cock jutting upward, hard and ready for me nearly has me moaning. I’m so hot for him that I can’t wait any longer. My fingers reach down between my thighs, needing to touch myself while I wait for Miles to return to me.
“Goddamn, you are so fucking sexy,” he groans before his knees hit the mattress and he’s crawling up between my legs. His head dips down and the flat of his wet tongue licks all the way up my slit an
d stops at my fingers. I scissor them apart, holding myself open for him as he kisses and sucks and laps at my clit. The pleasure builds so hard and fast that I’m pretty sure I levitate off the mattress when Miles has me soaring into what can only be described as heaven on earth.
Miles
I love eating my wife out and could keep my tongue inside of her for hours. But first, I need to be inside of her, claiming my pussy and showing her just how much this cock she owns loves and missed her.
Before her beautiful blue eyes reopen from her orgasm, I’m kneeling between her legs and thrusting inside of her.
“OH GOD!” Kira shouts as her back arches underneath me. When her eager little hips start lifting urgently to slam her pussy on my cock, meeting each of my thrusts, she makes me feel like a goddamn deity. “More! Harder! Yes!” she exclaims while her fingernails dig into my back, pulling my chest down to hers.
I try to kiss her, but it’s impossible thanks to our frantic fucking.
Then, her blue eyes open and lock with mine. Kira stares into my soul so intensely while our bodies are joined, looking for the answer to a question she hasn’t asked me yet.
Finally, she speaks.
“Did you…did you…kill anyone?” she asks through gasps.
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation when I continue to pound inside of her as deep as I can go. “I put a fucking bullet right between Kozlov’s eyes.”
Her lips part on a gasp and her pussy squeezes my shaft even tighter.
“God, that’s so…so…hot,” she moans just as her body clamps down on my cock and throbs with the pleasure taking her over the edge.
My lips slant over hers, the woman I love. The woman who loves me, even my darkness. Our tongues tangle as my hips pump three more times before I surrender to the ecstasy.
