Held

by Marlee Wray

  He can be brutal. He can be deadly. Or so it’s been said.

  Rumor has it that he and Anvil bled in the snow behind St. Cyril’s where a gunfight ended.

  I shiver. In my head, I’m afraid of him.

  But I’m other things too. I’m attracted, though I’m fighting that feeling with all my willpower because I know how dangerous it is to even be around him, especially now that he’s at war with Frank. I remember when I developed my aching crush on him, back when he was Frank’s right hand.

  At Rachel’s graduation party, I snuck upstairs, hoping to bump into hard-bodied C who had not come out to swim. Instead of finding Connor up there, I got cornered on the landing by Anvil, one of C’s crue. Anvil is massive, scarred, and terrifying. His big palm burned a handprint through my bikini bottoms, making me squirm.

  “Not her. She’s Rachel’s friend. Young,” Connor had said, waving his hand for me to come down the stairs.

  “I’m eighteen,” I protested, wanting to make sure Connor knew that I wasn’t jailbait.

  Anvil had scowled, weighing the moment. Then he’d removed his hand and stepped back.

  I’d hurried down the steps, but C had drawn me around the corner and pinned me to the wall.

  “What did I tell you about going up there?”

  “I really had to pee. There’s someone locked in the downstairs bathroom getting sick, I think.”

  He spun me to face the wall and slapped my ass. The sting was more shocking than painful. I froze, unable to even breathe. He slapped me a second time and a little hum started in my core. The beautiful, deadly guy that we all obsessed about had me up against a wall, my breasts squashed against the cool plaster, my ass barely covered and way too close to him.

  “What did I tell you?”

  “You said not to,” I whispered shakily.

  “Remember whose house you’re in. Don’t disobey me again.”

  His breath was hot against the bare skin of my shoulder.

  I turned my head, so his mouth was almost touching my cheek.

  “What would you do?” I asked, captivated by the moment, adrenaline pouring into my veins like liquid fire. With all his brooding intensity focused on me, I could barely breathe.

  Strong fingers bit into my hip for a moment. “Things you’re not meant to know about. Be a good girl, beautiful, and go back out to the pool.” Then he’d backed away and pointed.

  I’d fled. As ordered. But the word ‘beautiful’ haunted me. So had the way I’d felt pinned against the wall... I’d wanted him. A lot.

  I’d like to believe that three years later, I’m more worldly. I wouldn’t scamper away like that now. Right?

  I can tell myself whatever I want when he’s not around. At my door, I stare again at the mark, wondering what it means. One thing is certain, I should go voluntarily to talk to him. Maybe I should take Rachel with me. I’m not sure. She doesn’t know them well either. Frank Palermo orders his guys not to speak to her, so we never chat with the men who work for him. Still, she’s important in the city. Much more so than I am.

  But these days Frank’s guys guard Rachel like a prize, as his property, not as a person. And now his motives have become clear. She’s being married off to a New York boss’s son. That’ll be big-time leverage for Frank.

  Girls are treated like a commodity, and not just by Frank. There’s a reason I’ve avoided talking to Connor when I’ve seen him around. I’m smart enough now to know the best thing I can do for myself is to stay as far away as I can from anyone in a criminal syndicate. I, more than anyone, need to stay out of the middle of the war these two deadly syndicates are waging.

  I open the door and freeze because I’m not alone.

  Sitting on my secondhand couch is Connor McCann, gorgeous, deadly, calm. His hard eyes drink me in, and I’m even more breathless than I was the last time I saw him.

  Chapter Three

  Zoe

  “Come inside and close the door, Zoe.”

  I move mechanically, obeying because what else can I do? Run? He’s sure to catch me. And then what? Won’t that make me look guilty of whatever he thinks I’ve done?

  I press my back against the door. “I saw the mark. I would’ve come to see you.”

  “I saved you the trouble,” he says. There’s a glass on the coffee table, and he takes a drink.

  “What is that?”

  “Jack and Coke.”

  My eyes dart to my cabinets. I don’t have whiskey in my place. I don’t even have wine or beer at the moment. My last party wiped me out, and I haven’t had the money to buy more liquor. I barely have money to buy food. My student loan check is on its way, and I need it for rent and groceries.

  “Did you bring a bottle with you?” I ask, confused by the way he’s made himself at home like this is a social call.

  “There are supplies in the Range Rover. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be at the cast party, so I started a party of my own while I waited.”

  He does not look like a man who’s at a party.

  “Did you like the show?” I ask, not sure why every muscle tightens as I wait for his answer.

  “Of course. Everyone did.”

  I smile. Praise from him means more than it should. “What was your favorite part?”

  “The scene where you die.”

  My stomach plunges. It’s the most powerful scene, where I do my best dancing and Rachel’s playing is unbelievable, but I could take his enjoyment of that scene in a different way. One that has nothing to do with the show. My heartbeat races, whipped by adrenaline.

  “Should I have a drink with you?” I ask, not sure what else to say.

  “Are you twenty-one?”

  I laugh nervously. “Because we wouldn’t want to break the law?”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come and sit down.”

  The urge to run almost overtakes me, but I resist. I walk to the worn purple chair near the couch and lower myself into it. I’m close, but not within reach. I could bolt if I need to.

  I lick my lips. “So why are you here?”

  “That depends on what you tell me. I might just be here to listen.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a stack of money. There’s a black paper band around the hundred-dollar bills. The band is similar to what banks use, I guess, but this one is plain black, except for the C Crue silver stamp on it.

  I stare at it blankly. “I don’t need to be paid for information. If there’s something I can answer for you, I will.”

  “That’s not money for information. It’s my money. It was stolen. And I found it here.”

  “What?” I ask, my voice almost a gasp. “I don’t—” My eyes dart around the room. “I don’t know how it would’ve gotten into my apartment. How would I even have had access to money that belongs to you?”

  “The best thing you can do for yourself is tell me the truth.”

  “I’m telling the truth. If that money was in my apartment, I’m not the one who brought it here.”

  “If it was in your apartment?” he asks with a small smile. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  I shoot to my feet. “I don’t know what this is about. I think you should leave.”

  “Sit back down.”

  “No,” I say, making up my mind. Maybe this is some twisted plot to force me to spy on Frank Palermo for them. They make up some story to scare me into thinking I need to cooperate with them to make amends? Who knows what they’re capable of? I stalk over to the door and pull it open. “Please leave,” I say with more steel in my voice than I actually feel. I’m hoping he won’t see the way my hand shakes.

  He stands and walks over. For a brief moment, I think he’s actually going to leave. Instead, his big hand closes over mine and forces the door closed.

  “Hey, don’t!” I say.

  “Lower your voice,” he orders.

  My heart hammers in my chest. I don’t know what to do. Should I scream? Should I try to run to the bedroom window
with the fire escape?

  His hand is hot and squeezes mine against the knob. It’s hard to catch my breath.

  “You’re not going to intimidate me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You know what everyone who’s ever betrayed me starts off saying?” After a beat he continues, “Right. They say, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’”

  “But I really haven’t,” I say desperately.

  “That wad of cash says otherwise.”

  I stare into his eyes, imploring him to see the truth or, if he already knows I’m innocent, to stop things now. “I don’t know how it got here,” I say, choosing not to accuse him of treachery again.

  “That answer’s not good enough.”

  “It’s the only one I have.”

  “We’ll see,” he says, taking my arm in a firm grip.

  * * *

  Connor

  Zoe’s in an oversized sweater that hangs off a bare shoulder, flashing those plump tits that I’d like to get my hands on. Dressed casually, she’s every bit as erotic as she was in the thin black lace bodysuit onstage. And underneath her sweater she wears beige leggings that might as well be skin. She had no idea a man would be waiting for her.

  “Connor,” she says, shaking her head as I lock the front door and throw the bolt. Her voice is so good, soft and breathy. That slightly nervous tone threatens to bring out the animal in me.

  Things are spiraling, and my body keeps trying to get two steps ahead of my brain. With her arm in my hand, I guide her to the bedroom. I leave her standing at the foot of the bed while I shrug off my coat and toss it on the desk in the corner. I take my gun out and set it down too.

  She bites her lip, afraid of my darkness. Anyone would be.

  “All right,” I say, sitting on the end of the bed. “I need to know, so come on.”

  She stares at me, those pretty dark eyes wide now. “Know what? What’s going to happen?”

  “I’m going to spank your juicy ass. Maybe I’ll stop at that. Maybe I won’t.”

  She freezes. Her eyes dart to my hands, then to my face.

  “Come on,” I say, holding out a hand.

  “You can’t do this,” she says, but it’s more of a question. She licks her lips nervously, and my cock jerks.

  “Over here.” It’s not a request.

  She’s light on her feet as she shifts back and forth. Onstage, she’s a strong proud dancer, but alone in a bedroom with a man like me, she’s vulnerable.

  As I watch her, my cock gets thick and hard. I rise and close the distance between us. She shakes her head as I catch her arm.

  “No,” she says, trying to pull back.

  “We can do this the hard way. Or the harder way,” I say in an even tone.

  “I don’t have anything to tell you. I don’t know anything.”

  “Let’s see if that’s true,” I say, picking her up and carrying her back to the bed.

  She struggles, but quickly realizes it’s a mistake. I tip her over my lap, pinning her legs in place with one of mine. She tries to raise her upper body. I catch a handful of her gorgeous wild hair close to the scalp and, with a firm grip, push her head down. I have a flash of controlling her head like this while I feed her my cock. I push that image from my mind. We’re not going there. At least not yet.

  “I’ll scream. I could scream!” she says sharply.

  “If you do, I’ll gag you and take you someplace where no one will hear you scream.”

  “C! I really don’t know anything.”

  “Everyone knows something. Even if they don’t know they do.”

  Across my thighs, her peach of an ass is tipped up. She’s half Brazilian and has the gorgeous ass to prove it.

  I don’t play. I drag the tights down, exposing a light blue thong and her smooth mocha skin. She’s startled for a moment, then starts to shift her weight.

  I press down harder with the leg I’ve got hooked over hers. This isn’t the first ass I’ve spanked. But it is the first one I’ve waited to spank. For three long years.

  * * *

  Zoe

  I don’t even understand how I ended up here. My hair is grazing the floor, and I’m draped over C’s thighs, pinned in position.

  I should scream, but I’m afraid it’ll make him angry and I don’t want that, especially now.

  His hand rests on my lower back, and he strokes it. “Good girls tell the truth, and then they don’t get punished the way I’m going to punish you.”

  My body shudders.

  Then his hand comes down on each cheek. It doesn’t hurt. Not really. And even with several more that make my booty wobble, it’s only a stinging followed by warmth.

  “Mmm. You don’t mind that, do you?” There’s a sexy, gravelly quality to his voice that sends a wave of lust through me. Considering what’s about to happen, I can’t believe I feel aroused.

  He continues, “This could be a different kind of spanking that we’d both enjoy. I’d make you take off that sweater and your bra, so I could see those pretty chocolate nipples. But I won’t strip you. Not yet anyway.”

  My head buzzes.

  His palm cracks against my cheeks, and it smarts badly.

  “Oh,” I gasp.

  Firm smacks rain down, heat suffusing my flesh. The spanking gets rougher, giving rise to a flaming ache. I squirm. He massages my flesh, then resumes, peppering my ass with hard swats.

  “Stop!” I say. “That hurts!”

  When I try to defend myself, he pins my hand into the small of my back. Another flurry sets me ablaze. I shake my head wildly and try to kick my legs.

  He isn’t finished. Heavier thudding spanks land right at the edge of my bottom. I won’t be able to sit down tomorrow, I think wildly.

  “Please,” I beg with tears blurring my eyes.

  “Tell me what I want to know. Who gave you the money or who could’ve left it here?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t.”

  The spanking continues until I am spilling details on the only time I can think of when it could’ve been left.

  “I had a party. That’s the only night it could’ve been, I guess,” I say, my voice cracking.

  He stops and moves his leg. He eases me onto my knees. I look up at him, the first tears dropping over my lashes.

  He takes out his phone and opens a voice memo. “Tell me the names of everyone who was here that night.”

  I shake my head sharply, even as tears drip from the edge of my chin onto my shirt. I’m upset and furious, but my freaking nipples are also two arrows pointing at his lap. He’s hard, in more ways than one. It turned him on to treat me like a little girl, to spank my ass like he had the right. I should hate him. And I want to. I really do.

  “Names, Zoe, or I’ll take off my belt and really teach you a lesson.”

  “Go ahead,” I snap. “I’m not giving you a bunch of names of innocent people for you to harass.”

  He smiles, and my heart thuds like it’ll tumble from my chest to lay at his feet. I hate myself for the way I’m turned on by him. He’s a monster, just like Frank Palermo. The fact that Connor’s gorgeous should not matter.

  He unhooks his belt.

  I jump to my feet and try to flee, but he snatches my arm and hauls me back to him. His arms wrestle me against his body and one strong hand grips my sore ass, sending waves of pleasure and pain through me.

  “You do not want to tempt me into breaking you down. You’re strong, baby, but I’m stronger. I promise you that.”

  “Let go of me,” I whisper, making my voice as hard and cold as I can.

  “Who are you protecting?”

  “My friends.”

  “Because they robbed me?”

  “No! Because I know what can happen when someone like you shows up to ask questions. Maybe someone will be nervous and seem guilty of something when they’re not. And maybe you’ll hurt someone who had nothing to do with whatever you’re talking about. I won’t give you names. Do whatever you want
to me.”

  “Whatever I want, huh? That covers a lot of territory.”

  I look into his eyes defiantly, but a part of me is not as brave as I’m acting. I know how brutal Frank Palermo can be, and Connor McCann rose swiftly through the ranks to become his second in command at only twenty-four. He gave orders to men fifteen years older than he was. That says everything about how ruthless and dangerous C can be. Now he’s twenty-seven, and, rumor has it, the past two years have only made him harder.

  “I just can’t name names. I don’t think any of them are involved. There were almost two dozen people here. Some of them had friends with them.”

  “Why would a stranger leave a wad of cash in your cupboard? Unless he knew he could come back by to get it whenever he wanted?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, exhaling. “None of this makes sense.”

  He releases me. “Put your coat on. We’re leaving.”

  I scramble to pull my leggings up, but then hesitate to leave my bedroom. I know I shouldn’t go anywhere with him. Who knows what he has planned. Who knows if I’ll even make it back alive.

  I shudder.

  “Zoe, move it,” he orders.

  And I do, because what choice do I have?

  Chapter Four

  Connor

  Zoe sits next to me, huddled in a puffer coat, her long legs tucked to the side. She shifts in the seat. Is her ass sore? I was firm, but not brutal.

  “Was that the first time you’ve been spanked?”

  She turns her face to look at me. Her cheeks have lost their beautiful flush. When she was blushing and breathless I wanted to throw her on the bed and fuck her until she screamed my name. I held back because this is business, but my cock is still waiting for more of her.

  “Yes, it was.” She pushes a runaway curl over her shoulder, then tucks it into the puffy band holding the rest back. “I take it that it wasn’t your first time doing the spanking.”

  “No.”

  “Is this what you do to everyone you want information from?”

  My gaze slides to her. “I’m sure you know it’s not.”