This Life II

by Dee, Cara

  It wasn’t a long-term solution—far from it—but it would do for now.

  My father was right, though. We couldn’t keep her around. Women stopped being sacred if they posed a threat to the rest of our syndicate.

  “I’ll talk to Pat when the time comes,” I said. “We have greater concerns to worry about before then.”

  “I’m aware.” He looked over at the wall Eric and I used as an information board. Maps, notes, documents, unanswered questions, and pictures were pinned to it.

  The first week after we arrived, everything was going well. Fantastically well. I overrode parts of the warehouse’s security system to be able to unlock everything and turn off alarms in the future, we completed an inventory of the thirty-six cars stored there, thanks to Eric hacking in to the surveillance, and Pat found us a local worker to blackmail for on-site information. Then everything went to shit. All of a sudden, nine Avellino guards were posted around the property, making it impossible to get in.

  Not impossible. I shouldn’t say impossible. We were working on a Plan B, but it would get messy.

  The biggest question was, why the unexpected increase in security?

  Gio didn’t see people. He saw dollar signs, and that kind of surveillance wasn’t cheap. There had to be a reason. And it was restricted to his business in Barcelona. I’d sent my men out to several of his locations in Europe, and nothing. Business as usual.

  We were too invested to give up at this point. Besides, with the men we had, the skill sets, our targets were limited to Avellino cars, drugs, jewelry, and art. And we had thirty-six vehicles, all valued to at least a hundred large a pop, two hours away—there wasn’t a fucking chance I would give that up.

  Additionally, completing this operation by blowing up Gio’s property would set him back for years to come. Not that he’d live to see it, but his borgata would. Barcelona harbor was a top spot for international shipments, and while the Avellinos scrambled for new products and new locations, I had every intention of stealing their clients.

  “What’s your leading theory?” Pop asked. “I see you debunked one.”

  I eyed the wall. Aye, we’d concluded that Gio couldn’t have found the device we’d planted on the Essence. In other words, that wasn’t why he’d tightened the security.

  “We have three theories, each one unlikely but not implausible,” I said. “As much as we detest the Avellinos, we gotta hand it to them and admit they’re smart, and it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots between us visiting the auto show in Paris—where the Essence was displayed—with their property in Barcelona, where the car is permanently stored otherwise.”

  “So, it would be a precaution by Gio,” Pop deduced.

  I nodded. “The problem is that the security wasn’t increased until the Essence had been back in storage for eight days. If I were Gio, I would’ve put the guards in place as soon as the car rolled in. Secondly, he’s smart enough not to play us for complete idiots. He knows that we know there’s no use in stealing that car—everyone in the field knows it’s his, and it can’t sell. But here’s the thing. All this is only possible if he suspected we knew of the property in Barcelona in the first place. That’s intel we got from his home study.”

  Pop hummed and nodded slowly. “Second theory?”

  “We’re not his only enemy,” I stated. “God knows what we set off between Gio and the Russians in Amsterdam—something that was already ongoing, to be honest. We have no way of knowing who else is after him, but we know we’re not the only ones.”

  Pop agreed and wondered about the last theory.

  The theory I loathed the most. “We’re currently investigating if we have a rat.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “Son, you’re surrounded by boys you grew up with. Who would even…?”

  I shrugged. “Beats me, and so far, they all check out.”

  If I were to narrow it down to the top two in the Sons, it would be Kellan and me. Ford had no aspirations to go higher; he wanted a good position in my crew—that was all. He wanted to live comfortably. Power held no appeal to him. Liam would’ve been my number two, had he not been the eldest Murray son. He slid down to fourth place on a technicality, a position he’d given himself when we’d discussed this. Patrick, as my brother, would be the third. After that, Eric, followed by Colm and Conn and several others. They had all earned their stripes, not to mention our protection and trust. Even so, we were investigating everyone, and we’d been open about it.

  “Is there anyone outside your inner circle who knows where you are?” Pop asked once I’d explained everything.

  I shook my head. “Not even the entire inner circle knows.” After Paris, most had been sent home to the US to resume our operations there. Liam knew, ’cause he’d been here at first. Otherwise, only those who stayed here… Kellan, Pat, Eric, Sullivan, Colm, Conn. Emilia, Luna, and Autumn. And now Pop and the twins. Not even Sarah knew, because she’d been furious at the thought of leaving London to “go on the run” again, so Pat had set her up in a flat in Dublin. She’d stay there with a guard until everything was over. She was tomorrow’s problem.

  Aunt Viv didn’t know. Uncle T and a couple of the higher-ups knew our next target but not where we lived…

  But.

  “Shit,” I muttered as my mistake dawned on me. “Oh fuck.”

  “What? What?” Pop looked to me.

  I blew out a harsh breath and rose from my seat, patting my pockets for my smokes. “We’ve been thinking about it all wrong.” I jerked my chin toward the balcony, and he followed me out. “Our location is clearly safe. We’ve been here two months, and nothing’s happened. But more people are informed about where we’re gonna strike next.” I lit up a smoke and took a deep drag. “Doesn’t have to be the exact spot either. Just Barcelona is enough.”

  “And more people know we’re in this region because of a gig,” Pop stated.

  “Aye.” My brow furrowed as I raced to write a mental list, and it quickly became complicated. We always worked on a need-to-know basis in our field, but it was up to each crew boss to decide where that line was. Uncle T, for instance—a man I trusted wholeheartedly—could’ve told someone he trusted. It could be innocent. Hell, one of the kids could’ve said something in school. Emilia could’ve mentioned going to Barcelona at the fucking grocery store in London. She hadn’t, for the record, but the smallest slip was all it took. If the wrong person heard it, there were suddenly a lot fewer puzzle pieces to put together.

  “You have to eliminate that possibility by planting a rumor,” Pop told me. “You need a new location.”

  I nodded. “A few, actually.” Easier to fish out who could’ve told the wrong person if there were multiple locations. “I’ll talk to Colm and Kellan when they get back tonight. They can set something up for us.” They’d been checking out Gio’s home in Italy to see if he’d tightened his security there too.

  Aside from work that was becoming a frustrating headache, life was fucking good. I reveled in the pure pleasure as often as I could, and I refused to pass up on the moments all of us came together as family. It was why I’d made it somewhat of a rule for us to have dinner together in the evening.

  The weather allowed for patio dining this weekend, and once the long table had been cleared, our stomachs were full, and the sun had set…that was when my version of perfection played out for me. When the terrace was lit up by the fireplace and the pool, when music poured out from the living room, when beer and wine were flowing, and the guys were exchanging battle tales.

  We had four heaters running in the corners and blankets strewn over the chairs for anyone who got cold, but that didn’t stop the kids from jumping in the pool. It had to be fucking frigid.

  Autumn was the first one who surrendered, and her teeth were chattering when she darted out of the water and pleaded for a towel.

  Emilia came to the rescue and told her she knew just the way to warm up quickly. After helping Autumn put on her fluffy robe, my wife chan
ged the music, causing some of the guys to groan. I merely smiled to myself and took a swig of my beer. That sweet fucking woman of mine. Here in Spain, she was all about Latin music, gypsy skirts, and arts and crafts. When she wasn’t target practicing or studying languages and technology, that was.

  Bare feet, hair down, barely any makeup, she ushered Autumn over to the corner where the barbecue area was. Emilia bent down and rubbed Autumn’s arms, trying to get her warmer, and bobbed her head to the music.

  I couldn’t stop staring at her. I caught every smile, every move. She was innocently adorable and dangerously seductive at the same time. She coaxed Autumn into a lazy dance, the two holding both hands and wearing matching grins. To get the blood pumping, Emilia explained. It would heat Autumn up in a minute.

  Autumn seemed skeptical but did everything Emilia did.

  I noticed Eric watching them too.

  So was Luna, who soon joined the girls.

  It made Nessa wanna get out of the pool and dance as well.

  “To our girls.” I raised my beer, and the guys followed suit. “We’re blessed to have them in our lives.”

  They doted on us, cooked for us, worked hard, and tore us new ones when we had it coming. But what made my pulse skyrocket tonight was the knowledge of what a great mother Emilia would be. She already had Autumn and Nessa looking up to her.

  “Hear, hear,” Eric said.

  “Sláinte.” Pop tipped his beer bottle.

  A new song started, and Nessa and Autumn goofed off together with Luna. In the meantime, Emilia treated herself to the one glass of wine a week I’d let her have—because I’d been voted down by her new doctor. In between small sips, she moved languidly to the music. Eyes closed, contentment written all over. I knew she was relieved the morning sickness had passed. She’d come back to life in a new way.

  Jesus. She was too beautiful.

  The new song had some quicker parts, and she swiveled her hips in a figure eight like she was fucking Shakira. Her top and thin cardigan rode up and revealed a sliver of skin that looked golden in the light from the fire. Her skirt and supple curves cast shadows on the floorboards, and she seduced me without any effort.

  The fire and the wifey’s sensual body, even the shadows on the floor, flooded my dreams that night. I twisted and turned, trying to get to her, until I woke up panting. And hard as a goddamn rock.

  I gave myself a couple lazy strokes as I squinted toward her in the dark. Then I carefully freed my arm from underneath her pillow and cuddled closer to her back.

  “Baby,” I whispered gravelly.

  She hummed sleepily when I kissed her neck and slipped a hand down her stomach. Fuck, how I loved feeling that little bump.

  “I gotta have you again.” I breathed her in and nuzzled the spot below her ear.

  Emilia yawned and grunted softly, flopping onto her back. She wore the cutest scowl, and her eyes remained closed. “Don’t have too high expectations for my participation.”

  I laughed silently and shifted on top of her. “Not the first time you’ve said that.” It would be the first time her words were true if I didn’t wake her up properly.

  Doing things properly was kinda my thing.

  I kissed my way down her chest, taking my time. My hands took on a life of their own and caressed her everywhere. Up her rib cage, slowly, until I cupped her breast. I closed my mouth around a nipple and sucked gently, and she stretched and squirmed a bit.

  Her tits were hella sensitive these days, and I had to tread carefully. Sometimes, she was sensitive in a bad way. Sometimes, it was Viagra for girls—her words. The second she winced, I knew it was a bad day. New strategy. I dropped a trail of kisses down her stomach instead but kept my hands on her breasts. Drawing featherlight patterns with my fingertips helped her ease the tension in them, she’d said.

  She sighed softly and threaded her fingers into my hair.

  Good sign.

  I smiled against her skin and whispered, “Go easy on Mommy, little one. Daddy has enough cockblockers in his life.”

  Emilia burst out a tired giggle.

  I loved that sound.

  Scooting farther down, I got comfortable between her legs and placed a kiss at the top of her thigh. I inhaled deeply and drew my nose where her skin was so fucking soft. A low rumble emanated from my chest as the scent of her sweet pussy hit me. I wouldn’t tease her, much less myself, so I started stroking the length of those soft lips with my thumbs and let my tongue dip between to taste her.

  She exhaled shakily and shivered.

  I got lost in my mission to turn her on to the point where she asked for cock. I ate her out unhurriedly, circling my tongue around her clit, sucking lightly on it. I teased her opening with my middle finger, and I didn’t push it inside her until she tried to roll her hips to meet my ministrations.

  The wetter she got, the greedier and hungrier I became. With two fingers twisting and curling inside her tight little pussy, I had her whimpering and squirming in minutes. Her grip on my hair tightened. I licked at her firmly and swiped my tongue along her clit over and over, I finger-fucked her in deep strokes, and I sucked the sweet juices from her wet lips.

  “Please,” she croaked. “Oh God—fuck.”

  “Please what, Emilia?” I curled my fingers upward inside of her, and she gasped and arched her back.

  Then she cried out and started shaking.

  I redoubled my efforts and fingered her through her first orgasm, and the sight of her all flushed and panting made me groan against her soaked flesh.

  She collapsed and choked out, “Do it. Please, honey.”

  I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to fuck her past the sensitivity until she came back and begged for more. So I sat back on my heels and squeezed her thighs. “Get on all fours. Elbows on the mattress.”

  She obliged with a needy moan, and once she’d scrambled into place, I guided my cock to her pussy and shoved it deep inside.

  “Fuck!” she wheezed.

  I exhaled harshly and gripped her hips. She was so fucking hot and wet, still trembling and clenching from her orgasm. Slipping one hand up her arched spine, I drew out my cock and slammed in again. It was how I fucked her. Into the mattress, long strokes, pushing forward hard enough for her luscious little ass to jiggle whenever my pelvis made impact.

  I peered down to where I was taking her. “For not wanting to participate, you’re meeting my every move and coating my cock like you’re fucking desperate.”

  She just moaned and kept pushing back on me.

  After ordering her to grab on to the headboard, I set a fast pace and focused on myself. I told her how much I loved using her tight pussy for my pleasure. I asked who owned her, and she got snapped into her subservient mind-set where I was her entire world. She begged for me, begged to be taken harder, begged to make me come.

  It was the headiest drug of all. When she acted like a whore in bed, a whore only for me, I felt ten feet tall, and it was how she drew out the savage in me. I stopped asking. I stopped ordering, even. I pulled out and flipped her over, taking her by surprise, and hovered over her in an instant.

  She was a vision lying there. Her long hair fanned out across the pillows, cheeks flushed, forehead damp with perspiration, eyes wild with desire.

  I thrust forward again, burying myself to the hilt, and hitched an arm under her knee. Then I fucked her as roughly as I could. Skin slapped against skin, hot breaths and needy noises mingled.

  “Touch yourself,” I commanded, out of breath. “Get yourself off on my cock before I fill you up like only I can.”

  She whimpered desperately and screwed her eyes shut. Her lips parted, and they called to me. I dipped down and kissed her hungrily while she began rubbing her little clit. I told her what a good girl she was for me. I told her she was my perfect toy.

  The last one did it. Just as I was about to lose my own fight, Emilia went rigid and let out a silent scream.

  I growled against her neck and rammed
deep into her, then felt the climax take over. She convulsed around my cock, fucking milked it, and dug her fingernails into my shoulder blades.

  Her breathing hitched, and she fucking scratched up my back. I let out a snarl, feeling the pleasure shoot through me until I was completely drained.

  “Goddamn,” I panted against her shoulder.

  When I felt my arms and thighs trembling, I admitted defeat and collapsed next to her.

  Emilia winced.

  “You okay?” I swallowed dryly.

  “Yeah.” She was as breathless as I was. “You just pulled out fast. Oh God, that was so good. I can’t…I can’t…”

  I exhaled a laugh and dragged her lifeless form to me. “I think you drew blood. Check out my back tomorrow.”

  “Oh God,” she repeated, this time in a little whine. “It was so intense. Please don’t be alarmed if one day I start crying during sex. These hormones are killing me.”

  “Aw, my li’l crybaby.” I hugged her to me and gave her ass a solid squeeze. “Trust, if you start bawling when I fuck you, I will definitely be alarmed.”

  She giggled against my chest and pinched my nipple.

  “Ouch.” I inched back and rubbed the spot. “Let’s catch some more sleep. I’m not ready for breakfast.”

  “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  I grinned and pressed a kiss to her hair.

  24

  Finnegan O’Shea

  “Once the outside alarm sounds, how long until the authorities show up?” I asked, staring at our information board in the office. Specifically, the map of the western part of the harbor where Gio’s lot was.

  “Seven minutes,” Eric replied, to which I made a face. Not enough time. “That’s to the gates, though. Add another four minutes to reach Gio’s warehouse.”

  Eleven minutes, then. “And what do the harbor’s safety regulations say about emergency responses? There’s gotta be some standard in place for how many vehicles dispatch sends out whenever the alarm is activated.”