by Jen Davis
As the heavy black boot came down for another strike, Tony torqued his body so Felix stomped the chair instead. The impact was like wrecking ball to the spine, but it cracked the wood.
Felix must’ve been too dumb to realize what he was doing because he did it again, this time, splintering the chair into pieces.
Tony’s neck and his back flamed in agony, but he could pull his arms free. In one move, he rolled away from the next kick and liberated himself from the rope.
Baring his teeth, he lunged at Felix, who finally had enough sense to pull out his gun. But it was too late. The shot went wild as Tony snapped his neck.
Felix was dead before he hit the floor.
CHAPTER FIVE
Callie hadn’t cried once through this entire horrific ordeal, not until Felix delivered that first kick to Tony’s stomach. Then he kicked again and again. The awful cracking sound when his boot met the chair—she couldn’t tamp down the terror that it was Tony’s back cracking under the weight.
Afterward, when Felix pulled out the gun, all the air left the room. She wasn’t afraid for herself, which was crazy because Felix made no bones about his plans for her. All she could think about was losing Tony.
Tony, who had just ended someone’s life right in front of her eyes.
Her stomach flipped over, then flipped again as Donovan burst through the door, gun drawn.
It took him only a second to survey the situation. Felix dead. Tony, breathing heavy and a cut bleeding from above his eyebrow. And of course, her, still trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
“Dammit, Messina,” he growled at Tony. “This is my second guy you’ve killed today.”
“He touched her.”
Donovan’s gaze flicked over to Callie. “Stupid shit. He was on his last strike with me anyway.”
Tony wiped at the blood on his face with the back of his hand. “Any word on Lilah?”
“Dead. We both knew it would end this way.” He lowered his gun a fraction of an inch. “Now I’m stuck with you two.”
Tony took a step forward, and Donovan raised the gun again instantly, halting him in his tracks, and stealing the breath from Callie’s lungs.
“Let her go.” Tony put his hand over his heart. “Please. You know she has nothing to do with this. Kill me if you want to. I won’t fight you. Or maybe you want me to work for you. Whatever it takes. I’ll deal with the fallout.”
“Donnie, what did I tell you about bringing hostages to the warehouse?” A stunning blond entered the room wearing a black peacoat over dark jeans. “This is a legitimate business.”
She froze when she saw Tony. “What are you doing here?” She rushed toward him. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
What was happening? Callie couldn’t tell if the woman was friend or foe.
Donovan grabbed the blond by the arm and yanked her back. “Stay back, Anna. That’s Tony Messina.”
Anna shook off his hold. “I don’t care what his name is, this is the guy who saved my life.”
Donovan put himself between Anna and Tony. “Start talking, man.”
“I can’t believe it.” Tony leaned against the wall, pain and exhaustion peeking through his stony expression. “Had to be, what, ten years ago? The only mark I ever let walk away.”
“I was at the wrong place at the wrong time, saw something I shouldn’t.” Anna peeked her head around Donovan.
“She was pregnant. I knew what I was supposed to do, but I couldn’t do it.” Tony shrugged. “She never breathed a word.”
Donovan tucked his gun into the holder under his arm. “Fuck. That was you? My wife—my son—they mean everything to me. How can I repay you?”
Tony waved his hand in Callie’s direction. “Maybe start by untying my girl?”
Anna was the one who pulled a knife from her back pocket at cut the ropes. Pins and needles flooded Callie’s arms as the circulation returned to her arms.
“Does this mean you’re going to let us go?” she asked hoarsely.
Donovan glanced at his wife who answered him with a raised eyebrow. He breathed heavily. “I can let you go, or I get you both out.”
“I don’t understand.”
Tony shuffled over, then knelt beside her chair. “He’s offering to take us off Agosto’s radar.”
It sounded too good to be true. “How?”
Donovan nudged Felix’s body with his foot. “I guess this dumb fuck will finally be of some use to me. He’s about the same size as Tony. Eh. I’ll cut off his head, throw the rest of him in a drum of acid, and deliver it to Agosto. He’ll never know the difference.”
Oh God. She held her hand over her mouth. “Won’t he come after you for that?”
“Nah.” He shrugged. “The deal was Lilah’s life for Tony’s. Agosto made a choice. He understands business.”
“We want out.” Tony hauled back to his feet. “I have some money stashed. Can you pick it up?” He and Donovan put their heads together to make the arrangements.
Callie cleared her throat. “Anna? Is there a bathroom I could use?”
The blond woman offered her a hand up, then led her to a small bathroom beside the storage room.
Callie used the facilities and twice nearly threw up the chicken salad sandwich she’d eaten hours ago for lunch. How had this become her life?
Anna knocked twice before she let herself in. “You okay?”
Callie braced her hands on the sink. “I don’t know. This is all so crazy. My life isn’t like this. The biggest worry I had this morning was telling my dad I quit my graphic design job.”
Anna rubbed her back in circles. “I get it. Before I met Donovan, I sold real estate. I never planned to fall in love with someone who—does what he does, but it happened, and because of him, I have a son. Because of Tony, too.”
“So, he’s a good guy because he didn’t kill someone one time? Is that the standard now?” Her voice sounded shrill even to her own ears.
“Only you know if he’s a good guy, hon.”
She lifted her head. “What about Agosto? Do you really think he’ll look for me if I go home?”
“He didn’t get to the top of the food chain by being stupid. If he finds out you went home, not only will he kill you, he’ll realize Tony’s alive, too, and he won’t stop until he gets his pound of flesh.”
Pound of flesh. This really was her life now. She turned on the faucet and splashed the cold water on her face. “Sounds like I don’t have much of a choice.”
Anna offered her a paper towel from the roll mounted on the wall. “We always have a choice, but I’ll say this one last thing. Any guy who offers to die in your place is probably not going to complain about sleeping in the wet spot.”
“What?”
Anna chuckled. “I’m saying he loves you, but only you can decide if that is enough to overlook all the rest.”
***
Twelve hours later, Callie and Tony boarded a flight to Rome. Donovan had booked them first class seats, and all Callie could think of was finally closing her eyes and getting a little sleep on the nine-hour flight there. Thankfully, she still had her passport in her purse from her vacation to Italy last month. She was surprised Tony had one, since he never traveled, but she didn’t question it.
They hadn’t been alone once since everything had gone down, but as they settled into their first-class seats, she realized it was finally just the two of them. Well, if she didn’t count the hundred other people on board.
Tony had been the one to choose their destination.
She had a feeling it had something to do with the way she’d described the country on the night they’d met. “None of this feels real.” A yawn stole over her.
“Sleep. You’re safe. We’ll figure everything out when we get there.”
“Just a few minutes.” She closed her eyes, and didn’t open them again until Tony shook her shoulder when they landed. Despite her hard sleep, she still felt like she’d been hit by a bus.
; She disembarked in a daze and followed his lead to an airport van which took them to a Hilton about five minutes away. A room was already waiting in his name on the second floor.
Shower or sleep? She tumbled into the king-size bed without even taking off her shoes, and didn’t open her eyes again until it was fully night outside and the smell of pizza made her mouth water. Suddenly ravenous, she zeroed in on the tray beside the bed and crammed a piece in her mouth.
Tony chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind. I went ahead and ate.”
She made a noise he could interpret any way he wanted and chomped another bite.
He sat in a chair a few feet away, sipping some amber liquid—whiskey, she imagined—and watching her inhale the food. “I would’ve ordered you the carbonara, but the reviews here for it aren’t great.”
She washed down her food with a gulp of bottled water. “No. It’s perfect. Thank you.” The next slice, she tackled slower.
“I want you know I don’t expect you to stay with me.” He swirled the liquor in his glass, watching it rather than her. “I want you to, but I understand if you need some distance.”
The food landed like a rock in her stomach. She wished she had a drink of her own, because distance was the last thing she wanted. Her heart knew the truth, even if the events of the past day made it seem crazy. Tony had become her tether, her safe place, but even more, she still had all those feelings that drove her to track him down in New York in the first place.
She climbed out of the bed, and her feet were bare when they hit the floor. He must’ve taken off her shoes and covered her up while she slept.
“I don’t want distance.” She sat on his lap, dropping her head to his shoulder.
His tense muscles eased beneath her. “Are you sure? You’re giving up a lot. Your family. The gallery your Aunt Bea promised you. And Charleston. You love that city.”
She kissed his neck. “I love you.”
He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back to stare at her face. “You—”
“I love you. I want to stay with you. Make a life with you. I don’t care where we do it as long as we’re together. My family knows I’m safe. The rest will work itself out later.”
His face lit. “In that case, I have something I’ve been waiting all night to ask you.”
CHAPTER SIX
Tony nudged her off his lap. “Wait right there.” Heart beating double time, he flipped off the lights, opened the curtains to the starlight above, and hit play on the Elvis Presley song he had waiting on his phone.
He held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
Her eyes filled with tears as she stepped into his arms. “You remembered.”
“How could I forget? You wanted someone to dance with under the stars. I promise we’ll have a hundred chances to do this right, but I didn’t want to wait another minute.” He kissed the top of her head. “I want to start making your dreams come true right now.”
She hugged him closer, and he crooned along with the King, letting the song reveal the truth in his heart. How he’d fallen in love with her, too.
The song wasn’t even over before she started unbuttoning his shirt. She kissed his neck as her fingers worked, then she pulled the fabric off of him entirely. Cool air brushed his nipples, followed by the heat of her palms gliding over his pecs.
He reveled in the firm touch of her delicate hands, sweeping his collarbone and his shoulders before they descended over his chest again, his stomach, then down over the raging hard-on in his pants.
It took the patience of a fucking saint to let her take the lead, and he held himself motionless longer than he’d managed their last time together. Still, he was no fucking saint.
He filled both hands with the material of her heavy sweater and yanked it over her head. Dropping to his knees, he unfastened her jeans and pulled them down to her ankles. Her tiny white panties were only inches from his face.
Not for long. Barely a second after she kicked her pants away, he ripped the silky fabric apart, revealing the smooth hairless skin beneath. He ducked his head, his tongue darting forward between her folds.
“Spread your legs,” he gritted, and how fucking hot was it that she did it right away?
He tongued her, lapped over swollen clit, his finger exploring the honey of her arousal.
She moaned his name, and it was like gas on the fire.
He pumped his fingers faster, licked harder, until she screamed her pleasure and her inner walls contracted around him. Standing, he grabbed her hand and led her to the bed.
“I want to take care of you now, baby.”
Holy hell. Her husky voice sent shivers down his spine.
She licked her lips. “Lie down.”
He climbed onto the soft sheets, the twinge in his back making him more grateful than ever Callie was taking the lead. He almost came right back off the mattress when she fastened her mouth around his dick. No experimental licks or flirty winks. She went all-in.
The hot, wet heat of her nearly unmanned him. She was bold and sure and fucking beautiful.
“Condom,” he gasped, banging the bedside table with his palm. Thank God he’d stocked the drawer just in case.
Laughing, she released him from the suction of her mouth and leaned forward to get the protection. With a rip of the foil wrapper, she had what she needed and sheathed him before he could even mourn the loss of her heat.
Then, she was on top of him, her pussy taking him in one smooth motion.
He groaned, and for a moment, she stilled. The rightness of it sank into his bones. “I love you,” he whispered.
She answered with a roll of her hips.
His hands circled her waist, and he watched her, mesmerized as she rode him. Her thick brown hair sweeping over the tips of her beautiful breasts. Her eyes closed in concentration and her teeth biting into her plump bottom lip. She was a goddess.
She was his.
He moved his thumb to the junction of her legs, and she came almost instantly, the grip of her internal muscles taking him along with her. When her tension finally broke, she collapsed on top of him, and he held her in his arms.
It was hard to believe that just a month earlier, he’d never dreamed he could feel this way about anyone. Never dreamed he’d get out of New York. Never dreamed he could be free.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She lifted her head and gave him the same saucy wink she’d delivered the very first night they’d met. “Don’t thank me yet, handsome. We’re just getting started.”
Thank you for following Tony and Callie to their happy ending! Keep reading for a peek inside Brick: Cooper Construction Book 1.
A Look Inside BRICK
CHAPTER ONE
Brick
Brick slammed his fist into the side of Pete’s head, knocking the sniveling junkie into a heap on the floor.
“I’ll get the money for you. I swear. Please, God.” Pete climbed to his knees, his dark hands laced together like he was praying. But prayer couldn’t help him now. Brick had a job to do.
With an unforgiving backhand, he laid Pete flat. The guy lay, unmoving, on the filthy carpet of his cheap-ass apartment, surrounded by cigarette butts, empty beer cans, and the carcass of a giant cockroach.
They always thought if they could fake unconsciousness, the beating would stop. They were wrong.
“Get up.” His voice was bored. “If I have to come down there, it’s going to get worse for you.” He didn’t have to try to be intimidating anymore. Being a big motherfucker had its perks. No one wanted to fight a guy over six feet tall, carrying the kind of muscles you’d see on a pro-wrestler. Even worse for the punks who got in his way, he’d lost his soul a lifetime ago.
He wouldn’t think twice about crushing Pete’s body or spirit. He wouldn’t kill him—not yet, not while the piece of shit owed Sucre money—but he’d make him wish he were dead. The years Brick spent cultivating his status as a legend in this neighborhood guaranteed one thing
: everyone knew if he paid you a visit, there was no escape from the punishment you were due.
“I’m getting up, man.” Pete groaned as he climbed to his feet, clutching his head.
He delivered a hard punch to the guy’s stomach. Pete’s breath left his body with a pained exhale.
“The money was due yesterday, Pete.” A powerful right hook followed next. Blood dribbled from the corner of the gaunt man’s mouth. And now he was crying, for fuck’s sake.
“I’ll do anything, Brick,” Pete blubbered. “You want a blow job? I’ll suck your dick, man.”
He wrinkled his nose. This was always the worst part.
Panic flaring in his eyes, Pete held out his hands. “No. No. You want a girl? Yeah, you do. I’ve got a daughter. She—”
His fist shut down the offer more effectively than words ever could. He welcomed the sting in his knuckles as he knocked out a couple of the guy’s teeth in the process. Pete clawed at his own neck, wheezing as he choked.
The little girl with light brown skin and braids, whom Pete had shoved into the bathroom when he got here, couldn’t have been more than ten years old. Sick bastard.
He didn’t hurt kids. Ever. It was the only line he refused to cross. Nobody knew it, and they never would. The second he revealed a weakness for anything, someone would use it against him. He learned that lesson the hard way. It paid not to care about much of anything—or anyone—which wasn’t too hard, since nobody gave a shit about him, either.
The unmistakable scent of piss wafted to his nose, though it was a miracle he could smell anything over the stench of rotting garbage overflowing from the can near the kitchen sink. At least Pete hadn’t shit himself.
“You’ll deliver Sucre’s money tomorrow. With interest. Or I’m going to have to come back here.” He wrapped his hand around Pete’s jaw and squeezed. “You don’t want me to come back here.”
Pete shook his head, but he only moved a fraction of an inch in the vise of Brick’s fingers.
