We’re all going to have a target on our backs.
A fucking bullseye.
“I don’t want you to worry about it anymore, okay?” I raise my hand to her hair. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
She nods, nuzzling her nose against my ribs. “I appreciate you, Sebastian.”
“I know.” I also know she would quickly change her mind if she knew the extent of my gratitude over karma finally catching up with her old man.
I’d seriously dance a jig on that fucker’s grave.
Luther Torian used to be a bastard of brutality. Even Hunter was scared of the son of a bitch who made Cole look like a saint.
And now he’s gone. He slipped quietly into the afterlife while the rest of the world remains scared despite his lack of existence.
Well played, Torians. Well played.
I hold Keira close and battle the questions demanding to be answered. I need to know everything. Every fucking thing. When did it happen? How? Why? Who?
But I can’t ask. Not yet. I need to wait until the dust settles. Drilling her for information will only make her uneasy.
So I’m forced to lie here in silence as her breathing descends into smooth, rhythmic inhales. Her head would be a heavy place right now, filled with death, destruction, and fear. Maybe it always has been. God knows how long she’s had to bottle a lifetime worth of secrets.
And one day I’ll have them all. It’s only a matter of time and patience.
Patience—the one trait I’ve never had.
I roll away from her, needing distance to help lessen the hunger for answers. Only the space between us doesn’t relieve my appetite. I throw back the covers, slide from bed, and grab my cell from the pocket of my shirt on the floor.
I don’t know what to do.
Keeping this information bottled feels like I’m handling a nuclear bomb.
Hunter and Sarah are sitting ducks if I keep this news to myself. Anyone back in Portland is in the firing line. Including Layla and Stella. Doesn’t Cole see that?
But I can’t betray Keira. Not when she finally let me in. She gave me her body. Her secrets. Her trust.
Jesus Christ. I’m damned if I do and fucked sideways if I don’t.
Decisions, decisions.
I clench my teeth hard enough for my jaw to ache and stalk for the back of the house. I have to do something. I can’t stand here like a dumb fuck who’s too chicken shit to make a decision.
I won’t.
To hell with that.
I remove the cell case and retrieve the second sim hidden in the secret compartment. I shove out the back door, being hit with the cold night air as I start dialing.
I’m not going to tell anyone about Luther. Not yet. But I can take steps to make things right between me and Keira.
“Is everything okay?” Anissa says in greeting.
My pulse increases, building into a deep throb in my ears. I question what I’m about to say. What I’m about to do.
“Decker?”
“Yeah. I’m here.” I wince and run a hand through my hair. “We’re done, Niss. It’s over.”
“What? Why?” Her voice hardens. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t need you anymore. Don’t contact me again.”
12
Decker
I’m staring at the sunrise creeping over the ceiling, hands behind my head, when Keira starts to stir beside me.
I didn’t sleep, and it wasn’t from lack of trying.
It took forever for me to come to terms with Luther’s death. I didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to. Then things started to make perfect sense—the drive-by, Richard’s assassination attempt, Cole’s demand for Keira to be taken out of town.
Someone else already knows.
The power struggle has started.
Which is fucking great. I signed on for a lot of fucked up shit when I began working for this family, but helping them win a war isn’t one of them.
Keira’s long, labored breaths fade and she groans as she snuggles closer. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
I need to convince her to leave. To walk the fuck away from this life. This family.
Her brother will be too busy keeping himself alive to track us down. At least to start off with. He’ll have assholes from every direction attempting to kick him from his power pedestal. And by the time he does have the freedom to play hide-and-seek, we’ll be long gone.
It will take months, if not years, to re-assert control, if he’s even capable of holding onto it.
This is the perfect time to get out. To move on. To start over.
“How long have you been awake?” she murmurs. “You should’ve nudged me.”
I couldn’t have woken her even if I wanted to, probably not if my life depended on it. She’d been too peaceful. Too tempting with the covers below her waist, her cleavage gaping from her nightdress.
“I didn’t sleep much. I guess I didn’t need to after yesterday.”
She sits and runs a hand through her hair. “You must be starving. Give me a few minutes to freshen up, then we can go out for breakfast.”
“There’s no rush. I still need to get ready and call Hunter to see when he’s arriving.”
I’ve been thinking about calling him ever since I figured out the truth. I should’ve gotten in contact hours ago. As soon as I heard the news of the century.
Instead, I lay here staring at the same spot on the ceiling, torturing myself at the thought of betraying Keira. It’s too late now, though. My mind is made up. Telling Hunter isn’t betrayal. It’s taking the first step in an effort to keep her shielded from the violence about to rain down on us.
“I won’t be long.” She throws back the sheet and slides from the mattress, her seductive stride eating up the distance to the bathroom before she closes the door behind her.
I wait until the water turns on, then drag my ass from bed. Like last night, I walk into the back yard and connect the call in privacy.
“Now’s not a great time,” he greets.
“It’s not great here either. But what I’m going to tell you can’t wait.”
“Jesus. Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
“But you’re not denying it either,” he snarls. “Fuck, Deck. One day you’re going to have to stop being the wild card and actually take responsibility. I swear to God, Torian will bend you over and fuck you so hard you’re tasting dick for months.”
“As delightful as that sounds, it’s not why I called.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. Maybe if I squeeze hard enough I’ll have an aneurism and not have to deal with this shit. “Like I said, I’ve got news.”
There’s a pause, the briefest silent acknowledgement of the seriousness I’m about to share. “Go on, then,” he grates. “Tell me.”
“Keira and I got to talking last night, and she dropped a bomb I wasn’t expecting. It’s big, Hunt. Real big.”
“Do you want me to play Twenty-Questions, or are you planning on spitting it the fuck out?”
I drop my arm to my side and stare across the open expanse of the yard. There’s no life out here. No vibrancy. No feeling.
It could be considered beautiful with its sculpted statues and manicured gardens, but the property is devoid of warmth. Just like I’ve come to expect from anything the Torian name touches. Anything except the gorgeous woman waiting inside. “Luther is dead.”
Silence.
Hunter doesn’t respond.
Not in seconds. Not for long moments. Not even when I lower the cell to make sure the call is still connected. “Hunt?”
“I heard,” he growls. “And Keira just gave you this information out of the blue?”
“Yeah. She’s starting to trust me.”
“Where are you?”
“Still at the safe house. We’re about to head out for a bite to eat, but I’m not sure what the fuck I should do abo
ut this. You realize what it means, right? We’re caught in the middle of a power struggle.”
“Who have you told?”
“Nobody.”
There’s another pause. The silence of thick, punishing contemplation. “We can’t discuss this over the phone. I’m coming to you. I’ll call when I’m close.”
“You’re still bringing a laptop, right?”
“Yeah.” There’s a rustle in the background. A jangle of keys. “I picked one up yesterday.”
“You didn’t happen to buy a phone charger, too, did you? My cell is going to die if it doesn’t get some juice soon.”
“I’ll bring one of my spares.”
The line disconnects, leaving me with more punishing silence.
Remorse hits harder than I anticipate. And I’d expected that fucker to be punishing.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to face Keira now. Do I tell her? Should I explain?
No, I can’t.
She’s the type to run first and ask questions later, which will only put her in more danger.
My betrayal has to remain a secret for now.
Hunter will keep his mouth shut. I don’t doubt him in the slightest. And he had to be informed. I couldn’t live with his blood on my hands. There’s enough of that shit tainting my soul already.
The swish of an opening door hits my ears, and I turn to find Keira stepping onto the deck. The guilt increases with the soft smile she gives me. There’s trust in those eyes, the gentle affection clawing me from the inside out.
Fuck.
She’s a fucking sight, too. Her hair is braided over one shoulder. A white cardigan hangs loose on her shoulders, partially covering the top of her light blue sundress. The style is feminine. Laid back. Not a hint of filthy rich, drug-lord’s daughter in sight.
“Are you ready to leave?” she asks.
“Let me take a quick shower.” I head toward her, drowning in the need to drag her to some place far, far away from this bullshit. “Hunter is on his way. Hopefully he’ll meet us in town while we’re still eating breakfast. I don’t want to hang around in public any longer than necessary.”
“We can always bring the food back to the house. He could meet us here.”
“No. He doesn’t need to know the location of this place.”
She frowns. “You’d keep that from him?”
“It’s not my secret to tell.” The words burn my throat. I’m pretending my white-knight armor is shining when it’s tarnished as fuck.
Her eyes turn soft as she blinks back at me in unwarranted appreciation. “You’re a good man, Sebastian.”
Jesus.
I scoff. “Far from it, angel.”
Maybe I was at one time. Back when life was simple and contracted killings were in the movies, not my weekly schedule.
“It’s either jokes or deflected compliments,” she muses, inching toward me to wrap her arms around my waist. “Is that a technique to hide the real you?”
I fight to keep my muscles relaxed. “Yeah. I guess.” I kiss her forehead. “Deep down, I’m a sensitive guy who loves to write poetry and rescue injured wildlife.”
She arches a brow.
“And knitting,” I add. “I love knitting.”
She nudges me in the ribs. “Great. More jokes.”
I lean in and kiss her lips, tasting the mint from her toothpaste. “I’ll never stop joking around when the end result is one of your smiles.”
Her brow peaks higher. “Another joke?”
“No. That one was cheesy honesty.” I grab her around the waist and carry her into the house, leading her to the sofa. “What’s the obsession with getting in my head?”
“There’s no obsession. Just curiosity.”
I collapse onto the cushions and drag her down with me. I could get through a few more hours without food if it meant keeping her here. On top of me. Skin to skin. “Well, I’m curious about getting your clothes off.”
She straddles my waist and runs her hands around my neck. “You know I’m starving, right?”
“I’ve got something that can sate your appetite.”
Her lips tweak. “Your dick isn’t going to stop my stomach from grumbling.”
I lean into her, brushing the growing stubble along my jaw against her cheek. “Obviously, you haven’t been introduced to oral.”
She breaks out in a fit of laughter—eyes bright, cheeks high, skin flushed.
Pure beauty.
“I haven’t been introduced, Sebastian.” She draws out my name, that sultry mouth working around the syllables like a fucking wet dream. “But I know what it is.”
I can picture her tongue grazing along my shaft, her saliva covering me from base to tip. I raise a hand and brush my thumb over her lower lip, tracing a path down her throat.
She will gag as she gets used to my size, her eyes will water. Her mouth, too.
I’ll fucking love it.
“You’re serious.” She holds my gaze, all that bubbling humor vanishing as lust takes its place. “You want me to do this now?”
“No.” I need to shower. Brush my teeth. Gain restraint. “I’ll hold onto that fantasy for a little while longer.”
I scoop her up and drop her onto the far side of the sofa, her back falling against the cushioned arm rest. “Take off your underwear.”
“What?” She scrambles to sit up straight. “You just said—”
“I said I don’t want you to do anything. I didn’t say anything about me.” I lift the bottom of her dress, taking in the sight of white lace panties. “Get them off.”
“Sebastian…” Her eyes are frantic. A mix of anxious anticipation and nervous excitement.
“Off, Keira.” Fuck it. I grab the waistband and tug them down myself. “I’m fucking starving.”
I want her. The taste. The touch. The sound.
I’m dying to get between her legs.
I’m dying for the distraction, too.
She shimmies as I tug at the material, dragging them along her calves, over her ankles, to drop them to the floor.
“Spread your legs,” I demand.
Her shoulders straighten. She grows rigid.
Shit. I need to go slow with her. Be fucking gentle.
I place my hands on her knees, exposing her slowly. “I’m going to taste you, Keira.”
“I already got that part,” she teases. “I just want to know what’s taking so long.”
I smirk, giving her a game-on look she won’t forget in a while. I sink my face between those legs, wrapping my arms around her thighs to position her right where I need her.
She smells of soap, the fucking purity smothering the scent of arousal. But I’ll make sure that doesn’t last long.
I rake my teeth across her mound, grazing sensitive skin as I hold her gaze.
“I’m not going to break,” she whispers.
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I’m capable of.”
My first lick is light. Gentle. I flick her clit and revel in the jolt of her hips. It’s a prelude. The appetizer. I keep swiping the bundle of nerves. Back and forth. Slow and patient.
Her jolts continue, settling into a roll of hips to meet every brush of tongue, as she slides a hand through my hair. It’s a request. A silent demand for more.
I don’t need to be told twice.
I inch lower, my dick jolting as I part her folds and taste her arousal. There’s nothing but sweet bliss. Pure euphoria.
She grips my hair, fucking wrenches it between tight fingers.
I lick harder, faster, delving deep.
She whimpers. Moans. The noise fills my ears and sinks into my soul.
I unwrap an arm from around her thigh and cup her ass, using my thumb to penetrate her. The sound of her pleasure increases. Everything does. The need. The rush.
I pulse, building a punishing rhythm as I suck on her clit. I crave her pleasure, if only to sate my guilt. I can’t stand the thought of her hating me.
“Dee
per,” she demands, her thighs tightening around my head.
I close my eyes and fight against blowing in my pants like a fucking kid.
“Oh, God.” Her back arches and that tight pussy gets even tighter as she milks my thumb with her orgasm.
Her juices cover my face, and those soft muffled moans continue to torment me in the sweetest possible way until her orgasm diminishes and she’s left sated and lax.
I’m no longer going to question how the daughter of someone heinous can be so fucking perfect. She just is. That’s all there is to it. I can’t get her out of my head. I never could. And I’m not going to fight it anymore.
I retreat and wipe a hand over my mouth.
Her thighs are red from the graze of my stubble. Her pussy glistens, fucking beckoning me.
“Sebastian…” She stares at me, her breathing rushed, her eyes playful. “That was…”
“The start of an obsession,” I finish for her. “A day won’t go by without me wanting to repeat that.”
She lowers her dress, covering her brilliance. “You’ll have to teach me how to return the favor.”
My dick jolts, the imminent orgasm still threatening to blow. “One day.” When she’s ready and I’ve got a lick of restraint to stop me from choking her with my dick. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Do you want me to join you?”
“Not today, jelly bean.”
She winces, alerting me to the unintentional rejection.
I stand, my cock poking proud from beneath my boxers. “Babe, I’m so fucking turned on I’m seconds from blowing.”
“And?”
“And it’s not going to be pretty. If I had you right now, it would be hard and fast and rough. You don’t want that. Not yet.” I reach out, brushing my fingers over her flushed cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”
She nods. “Okay.”
* * *
One jerk-off shower session later, I’m dressed in my kiddie shirt and driving out of the property gates.
Everything is different from yesterday—my relationship with Keira, my plans for the future, my perspective.
Even my concentration is shot to shit.
I turn from one street to the next, picturing the spread thighs of the woman beside me instead of focusing on traffic. She’s all I see. All I feel.
Decker Page 12
