by Shandi Boyes
Doesn’t mean I’ll let his snitching ways be forgotten, though. If Dimitri doesn’t sniff him out as the rat he is, I’ll send some of my men to Hopeton to aide in the extermination of his rodents.
When Carmichael commences proceedings by crawling so far up the judge’s ass, we’ll need a tire wrench to get him out, I cradle my head in my hands. “Judge, the Hawaiian sun did wonders for your complexion.”
I take a mental note to add this judge’s name to a list of potential replacements for when Judge Santos retires when he sees straight through Carmichael’s bullshit. “Yes, yes, Carmichael. Save your yakking for my wife. She’s waiting for you outside.”
My knowledge on Carmichael’s relationship with the judge’s wife is unknown, but if the whitening of his gills is anything to go by, the judge didn’t marry his wife for her looks.
After being granted permission to approach the bench, Carmichael hands the judge the doctored request for my home arrest. “Our client’s request for house arrest has been signed by the defendant and endorsed by the DA’s office.” Sasha gasps in a sharp breath when he waves his hand at her nonchalantly. They fucked, and he snuck out while she was asleep. I guarantee it. She wears the look of a scorned woman well. “With lockup overrun with rowdy school leavers, one less occupant is best for all involved.”
The judge’s old-timer eyes shift to Sasha, who’s still reeling over Carmichael’s hand thrust. “Are Mr. Fletcher’s claims true, Ms. Sheridan? Are you siding with the defense so their client can be bailed under the condition of house arrest?”
“Yes. But our agreement is merely to stop Mr. Fletcher’s client from coercing drunken fools into becoming members of his... association.” I hit her with a frisky wink when her eyes drift my way during the last half of her statement. If the hue on her cheeks is anything to go by, she doesn’t just want to defend criminals; she wants to be bedded by them, too.
The pulse of victory drums through my veins when the judge says, “Very well. With both parties agreeing to the terms as stated, I have no reason to decline your request, Mr. Fletcher.”
As the crowd filling the chambers whisper their surprise about the judge’s verdict, blood floods my cock. Its inflation has nothing to do with the vehement eyes of the ADA watching me under hooded lids, and everything to do with Justine’s breaths hitting my neck. Her excitement is as stealthy as mine. We just have different reasons to be excited. She thinks today’s victory awards her the privilege of being my counsel. It does, but it’s only one of the many perks I plan to award her with.
“However…” My eyes snap to the judge, my gaze set to kill. I hate stipulations as much as I despise the men who feel they have the right to issue them. “I’m only agreeing to the request for house arrest because the defendant is not being housed in any compounds associated with him or with any known associates of his.”
When Carmichael’s eyes rocket to Justine, wordlessly demanding an explanation to the judge’s comment, it is the fight of my life to hold in my grin. It’s pulling at my lips, begging to be freed as much as my cock wants out of my jeans.
I lose the chance to hold back my grin when the judge says, “I hereby sentence Nikolai Popov to serve bail under the terms of house arrest at Unit 23 431 West Lucy Lane, Las Vegas,” so I set it free.
As the color drains from Carmichael’s cheeks, Justine leaps up from her chair. “That’s not the correct address. You’ve made a mistake.”
I almost order my second hit of the day when the judge glares at Justine as if she’s simple. The only reason I don’t is because the hellion I see hiding deep within Justine’s eyes jumps to her defense before I can. “Please check. Someone has made a mistake. If not you, someone else.”
“I don’t make mistakes, young lady.”
Except the one you just did.
“And if another insult leaves your lips, I’ll hold you in contempt of court.”
I watch Justine for several long seconds, knowing she has the gall to fight more, but also aware she won’t. She isn’t backing down because she’s a coward. It’s because she knows angels can fly no matter how heavy the burdens on their shoulders are.
Chapter Five
The judge’s gavel has been hammered, my men have been stood down, now only a devil and an angel remain in the ultimate battle of supremacy. I’m on the verge of victory. Not only can I taste it on the tip of my tongue, Justine hasn’t stop wiggling in her seat since we commenced our commute from the courthouse to her apartment building over twenty minutes ago.
Nerves aren’t making her a hot mess.
I am.
The thrill of the chase is running through my veins thick and fast. I’ve never experienced a desire like this before. Usually, the excitement heating my veins cools long before I’ve coerced the woman I’m chasing into my bed. That isn’t happening this time around. It is growing more profound with each second that ticks by. Not even the official processing of charges I have no intention to face dampened it. My cock is heavy against my zipper, pleading for early release. He’s acting as if one taste of Justine’s cunt won’t be enough. That it will only have him craving another, and another, and another until the focus I was forced to shift years ago returns to what it once was.
When Rico died, my life became about nothing but the bratva and the ties needed to keep our sanction strong. My actions tonight are nothing close to that. I’m tiptoeing on a fine wire, willing to risk it all for a woman I didn’t know existed only hours ago.
If today wasn’t the first time I’ve felt a pitiful thump in my chest, I’d call off the game now. Alas, stupidity is like a muscle. It strengthens with use.
The more I tell myself the risks aren’t worth it, the more ravenous my cravings become. I want this as much as Justine, I just refuse to hide behind the fear that we’re walking headfirst into a tornado. I’m encouraging its destruction, honing a quality I was nurtured to love as a child. Whatever we’re creeping toward will most likely destroy me, but you must chase chaos to dance amongst the stars.
I suck an undignified whiff through my nostrils when Justine says for the fifth time this evening, “It was an accident. I meant to put down your address, I was just—”
“Flustered.” Like the hue your neck gets every time you bust my stare. “Don’t be ashamed, Ahren. You have good instincts. You should be flustered. Scared. Praying to the gods you’ll survive me.” Because by the time I’m done with you, you’ll no longer know right from wrong. You’ll know nothing but me.
The arrogance heating my blood augments when Justine’s knees curve inward. The scent of her needy cunt has me praying the sheriff’s department will hurry the fuck up and finish their scan of her apartment building so we can get our all-night rager started.
I’m going to break more than records this long weekend, and I’m not the least bit confronted by the idea.
As my eyes glide over the budded peaks pressed against Justine’s shimmery blouse, I imagine my cock sliding in and out of her pillowly lips. She has a fuckable mouth. Her top lip is tilted slightly upward, her straight teeth are minus the cat’s incisors every guy hates, and she’s a nose breather—all good indicators she knows how to give fantastic head.
I’m certain Justine’s thoughts are as wicked as mine when our knees brush during one of her many squirms. As her breathing shallows, she struggles not to flutter her eyes shut. We’re barely touching, but the energy teeming between us is so headstrong, she appears on the brink of climax. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips are parted, and the undeniable glint of lust is in her eyes.
My suspicions are confirmed when the scent I’m sucking in like an addict doubles. She’s hot and ready for me, her cunt’s wordless begs for me to take her as desperate as my cock’s plea to sink into her heat.
While fighting the urge not to claim her right now, I growl, “Soon, Ahren. Very soon.”
If the ambiguity in my tone doesn’t reveal our plans for tonight, I’m certain the locking and holding of our eyes will. My thoug
hts are far from innocent, and Justine is more than eager to explore them. She’s hot all over, both excited and conflicted. She wants this, but something is holding her back.
If I was raised to put others before myself, I’d strive to eradicate her hang-ups before rocking her world, but since my upbringing was far from moral, I’ll fuck her first then act as if I have a clue about what being a gentleman entails.
The pink tinge creeping across Justine’s neck reaches her cheeks when the side door of the transportation van slides open. Pretending the guards can’t smell the heady scent of lust lingering in the air, she races for the lobby of her building, believing distance will break the tension binding us together.
She’s horrendously wrong. Not only does it continue to crackle during our ride to her floor with parole officers and an elevator attendant, but it also hisses during the short walk from the elevator bank to the door of her apartment.
“Watch it,” I growl in Russian when Justine is barged out of the way by a parole officer as eager to get inside her apartment as I am her panties.
My torso keeps Justine on her feet, but I’m still not fucking happy. Granted I’m as confused about my motives tonight as my crew, but I do know one thing: immediately and without hesitation, I’ll butcher any man who dares fuck with Justine—myself included.
While mentally jotting down the officer’s badge number, height, hair-coloring, and any other fucking trait he has so my men can track him down as fast as he’s destroying Justine’s home under the guise he’s ‘searching for dangerous weapons,’ I shadow Justine to the side of her living room.
Her steps are shaky, as if worried I will hate her domain. I don’t. Her apartment is dated, but it suits her well. Its shell is solid and reliable. It just needs someone to highlight its good points.
I’m no builder, but Rico taught me the benefit of fixing things from the ground up. It takes more effort than demolishing it and starting again, but more times than not, the dividends far outweigh the input.
Usually, his logic is only applied to business projects I’m endeavoring to get off the ground. This is the first time I’ve considered using them on a person.
“Nice.” I mutter through quirked lips. “Small as fuck, but nice.”
Justine’s smile reveals she took my comment as intended: playfully.
Over the next twenty minutes, the parole officers rid Justine’s apartment of what they believe are dangerous weapons. They miss the electrical cords, shower curtain, and the very reason I was incarcerated to begin with—glass bottles, and I won’t mention the damage a man can do without any instruments or they’ll never fucking leave.
My eyes snap to Justine when their search stacks evidence onto my admission there’s more to her than what her outward appearance reflects. She has a drawer full of sex apparatuses. Not a handful. A lot.
“Don’t say a word,” Justine mumbles under her breath, mortified when the guard tosses them onto her bed so he can rummage through them.
If she’s embarrassed, she has no reason to be. I’m not staring at her because I’m shocked she needs sex toys. I’m fucking stoked she does. If she’s pleasing herself, it means there’s less men on my hit list.
Although, she’ll have no use for any instruments but my cock this weekend.
“Take them with you. Justine won’t need them. She’s got everything she needs right here.”
I wasn’t meant to say my last comment out loud, but I’m glad I have issues holding back. Justine’s face doesn’t give away her excitement, but the blush extending from the back of her knees to her nape sure as fuck does.
When the officer responsible for Justine’s embarrassment pushes aside a black dildo like it’s coated with cooties, my cock stiffens painfully quick.
“On second thought, maybe we should keep them.”
Just the thought of feeding my dick into her mouth while the dildo occupies her cunt has cum biting the crest of my cock, and let’s not mention filling her ass and cunt at the same time. There are so many possibilities, and I’m dying to test every one of them.
My wicked thoughts take a back seat when the sound of something being torn shreds through my ears. The officer who barged Justine earlier is tearing apart her couch—literally.
“You do realize we’re on the same team, right? I work in the justice system.” Shock highlights Justine’s tone.
It’s almost as palpable as my anger when the arrogant prick with his hand lodged halfway down her couch grunts at her. “You're not one of us. If you were, you would have let that scum rot in jail.” He nudges his head to me during the last half of his statement.
As I slide a letter opener off the desk I’m standing next to, Justine works the excuse she’s been working all night like a stripper does a pole—to perfection. “I didn’t invite him into my home. It was a mistake...” Her words fall short when the fastest jab of the letter opener into the lock of my cuffs releases my left wrist from its tight squeeze. “Put it back.”
If I weren’t already aware whose side she’s on, the faint whisper of her words leaves no doubt. If she truly feared me, she wouldn’t be pleading with me. She’d be running.
After checking the sharpness of the letter opener with my thumb, I goad the officer to step closer. He’s standing next to Justine’s light-colored couches. I don’t want them smeared with his worthless blood. That might make things awkward when I fuck her on them.
“Only a coward makes threats from a distance.”
The letter opener isn’t overly sharp, but its pointy end will make the parole officer’s death as easy as one, two, three—stab, twist, and yank. A novice would run the risk of him not bleeding out before medical helped intervened. Unfortunately for him, I’m a professional killer. I’m not going to aim for the worthless vein in his neck. I’m targeting the big one in his chest.
The officer who name tag states ‘Prentice’ stands to his full height, stupidly thinking he can goad me with his size. “Coward? You’re calling me a coward?”
As he skirts past Justine, he puffs his chest out, emphasizing the area I’m planning to hit him.
“I’ll show you how much of a coward I am.”
Justine’s hands shoot up to cover her mouth when Officer Prentice punches me in the stomach. His hit is so weak, I tighten the perimeter of my scope, certain his veins are as puny as the strength of his hits.
“Is that all you’ve got?” My mocking laugh adds to the heat on Justine’s cheeks. “My deduskha hits harder than you.”
When Officer Prentice prepares to hit me again, I curl my fingers around the letter opener, ready to strike. It will be as fast as a cobra but ten times more deadly.
Just as my fist careens toward the officer’s chest, Justine slips into the minute gap between us. Her movements are so quick, her freshly shampooed hair slaps me in the face.
Her quick thinking stuns me, but it has nothing on the shock I feel when she says, “If you so much as ruffle another hair on my client’s head, I’ll have you arrested for police brutality.”
No one has stood up for me before.
Not once.
I’m genuinely surprised—aroused as fuck, but shocked, nonetheless.
Justine steps forward to rule her empire with the stones thrown at her. “You are not here to prosecute my client. You’re here to sweep my house. If that has been done, I suggest you leave.”
Officer Prentice glares at her, utterly oblivious he’d be bleeding out at her feet right now if she hadn’t shocked me so much my mouth isn’t the only thing refusing to follow the prompts of my brain. So are my fists.
With a mocked sneer, Officer Prentice tosses a set of handcuff keys into Justine’s chest before wordlessly demanding his posse of fuckfaces follow his dramatic exit. “I’ll leave a body bag with the receptionist. It’ll save me carting one back here tomorrow.” His desolate eyes stray to mine. They’re as vacant as his veins are about to become. “Have fun with her.”
Six-three, one-hundred and ninety
-four-pounds, and currently sucking in his final breaths. Enjoy your last night on earth, Officer Prentice.
I could take care of business right now, but I’ve never been accused of being patient. I was already restless, but seeing the way Justine defended me stirred up an entirely new type of impatience. I need her, and I need her fucking now.
The latch of Justine’s front door has barely clicked into place when I have her pressed up against it as I did in the holding room only hours ago. Her cheek and breasts flatten against the warped material as her perfect ass nestles my rock-hard cock.
“You should have let me teach him a lesson.” I curl my arm around her stomach, tethering myself to her before the itch to kill has me ridding the world of another leach this very instant. “Spineless men like him don’t deserve to breathe.”
When Justine remains quiet, her breathing shallow and fervent, I spread her ankles to the width of her shoulders before wedging my leg sporting a brand new ankle monitor into the gap. My desire to kill lessens when the heat of her cunt scorches my thigh. She’s burning all over. I knew she’d be an ardent, fiery lover. It’s why I’ve been so desperate to have her beneath me.
While tugging her satin blouse out of her skirt, I press my lips to the shell of her ear. “If my desire to taste you wasn’t stronger than my urge to slit his throat, he’d be quivering his last breath right now.” My voice reveals my wavering constraint. Usually, punishment comes before pleasure. This is the first time I’ve switched things up. “But my needs are too strong to ignore. After years of pussy on tap, my cock grew bored—nothing could gain its interest. Except you. One glance, and I was done. I knew I had to have you.”
With my cock pleas taking up every inch of my sanity, I speak freely. I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve been so open. Lust is a potent concoction to any man, but I’m far from ordinary, so it shouldn’t be affecting me the way it is.
“Then when you spoke... Fuck. In a room full of men, my cock turned to stone. I’ve never been so fucking hard.”
