Sweet Retribution: Ruthless Games #2

by Rose, Callie

Marcus shrugs. “No. But then again, you’re running out of options. Say the game goes on for another few years before someone finally wins. Is the Morello family name even gonna mean shit in Halston by then? Or will your legacy have been wiped out by the Viper?”

  Gabriel’s jaw clenches as he shifts his gaze to the side, looking a little like a petulant child. “You don’t know shit.” Then he glances back at Marcus. “What would you even do about him anyway? You think you can stop him when we can’t? Luca hasn’t even stopped him, so why the hell should I believe his successor would?”

  “I don’t know why Luca hasn’t gotten involved,” Marcus admits, taking a sip of the whiskey the cocktail waitress left for each of us. “He has his own reasons for doing what he does. But that’s all the more reason for you to take our offer. The sooner a successor is chosen, the sooner Luca will step down. And you have my word that we’ll help you stamp out the Viper when that happens.”

  “If you win.” Gabriel scowls.

  “If we win.” Marcus spreads his hands slightly, looking languid and confident. “But I still say those are better odds than you have of holding off the Viper on your own.”

  Gabriel purses his lips, studying Marcus before shifting his gaze to Ryland, Theo, and then to me. He stares at me the longest, as if he’s trying to figure out how I ended up firmly settled between the three of them, how I became a part of this at all—and what my presence might mean for him.

  Finally, he tilts his chair back a little, shaking his head. “No. Not without proof. I don’t want promises of what you’ll do in the future. Promises you can break once you’ve got the power. You want my help? You want me to step aside so you can claim victory? Then show me I’ll actually benefit from having you where Luca is now. Take out the Viper. You get rid of him, and I’ll swear fealty to you.”

  He finishes speaking and nods in satisfaction, as if daring the men to admit they won’t actually follow through on their promises. But Marcus just nods.

  “All right. We’ll be in touch.”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows twitch upward slightly. I get the feeling he expected the guys to be a lot more thrown by his terms than they are. He was probably hoping he could laugh us out of here, and he seems a little unsure how to respond as the four of us rise in unison. He stands too, grabbing his glass off the table and downing the remainder of his drink in one swallow.

  Then he looks at Marcus again, his expression more serious this time. He nods, looking thoughtful. “If you do this, if you protect my family’s interests… yeah, I’ll support you.”

  “Good.” Marcus dips his chin. “It’s the only way this ends without more unneeded death.”

  We leave Gabriel standing behind the table and step back into the corridor. The same cocktail waitress who dropped the drinks off earlier steps forward as we pass her, slipping back into the room. We walk by a few more waitresses as we make our way back toward the main part of the club.

  “That went better than it could have,” Theo comments, keeping his voice low.

  “It did.” Marcus nods. “I think he was serious about his terms. Which means the Viper is fucking shit up for his family worse than he was letting on.”

  Theo makes a noise in his throat. “The only problem is, now we’ve gotta find a man who doesn’t want to be found. This guy is like a fuckin’ ghost.”

  “We’ll find him.” The grim determination in Ryland’s voice matches the feeling that hums in my chest.

  We will find him. We have to. We’ve been given an opening, and if we can get Gabriel on our side, it might become easier to force Michael to bend a knee too. The more dominoes fall, the more power we amass, the easier it will be to claim the last few pieces on the board.

  I hate that Victoria was the one who offered us this lead, but we can’t ignore it just because it came from her.

  My thoughts are whirling as we cut through a large, dimly lit bar area. There are cocktail tables spread around the space, and the low buzz of voices deep in conversation surrounds us as we make our way through the crowd.

  I’m so lost in my mind that I crash into someone as he heads toward the bar, letting out a startled yelp as his hands grab my arms to catch me.

  “Excuse me, I—”

  The man breaks off, his eyes flickering as recognition passes through them.

  I freeze, my gaze locked on his face.

  The world seems to narrow to a pinpoint, everything else fading around us until all I can see is that face.

  That face.

  He’s older now, but he’s still got the same straight brow, dimpled chin, and square jaw. The same light brown eyes.

  My stomach seems to fall out of my body. The places where his skin touches mine, where he’s grabbing my arms, burn with cold fire.

  You’re fine.

  The words echo in my head, just as much of a lie now as they were when he said them to me after the first time he raped me. When I held a pair of shredded underwear in my hands, clinging to them as if I could somehow put the damaged fabric back together. As if doing so might put the damaged pieces of me back together.

  It became his mantra, his command, the only two words he regularly spoke to me, and he said it with more and more disdain every time—like he couldn’t believe I was ignoring his orders.

  Every hour that’s passed since I finally escaped the foster home where Jordan McCabe tore away my innocence seems to melt away. It’s like no time has gone by at all, and whatever strength I’ve built inside myself over the past years vanishes in a flash.

  I’m raw and bleeding.

  Just the way he liked me.

  “Sorry, miss.” Jordan smiles blandly at me, the recognition I saw in his eyes a second ago replaced by polite disinterest. He flicks a glance at the three men who surround me then steps away, disappearing into the crowd.

  I blink after him, and Theo ducks his head to look at me. “Hey, Rose? You okay?”

  My skin feels numb. It feels like I was standing face-to-face with my abuser for hours, but in reality, it must’ve been just a second or two. My heart is slamming against my ribs, blood rushing through my veins so fast I feel nauseated. But now that Jordan’s horrifying brown eyes are no longer focused on me, I manage to shove up the walls around my heart again, barricading the pain inside.

  “Yeah.” I shake my head, swallowing. My mouth is dry as a fucking desert. “I’m okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  He doesn’t look convinced, exchanging a quick glance with the other two men, but I drag in a deep breath, forcing my voice not to shake. “I just need some air. That’s all.”

  “All right.” Concern darkens his blue-green eyes, but he puts a hand at my lower back, guiding me through the crowd as the other two men fall in beside us.

  I keep waiting for the sick feeling in my stomach to fade, but as we settle into Theo’s car, it only gets worse. I’m breathing normally, but it’s as if the air has thinned, leaving me oxygen deprived anyway. I try to pay attention as the men discuss plans for tracking down the Viper and dealing with him. I know I should focus on their words and try to help them, but my mind feels like it’s spiraling. Every half-formed thought ends in the same place.

  Him.

  Jordan McCabe can’t touch me now. I’ve been out of his house for years, and I haven’t seen him since the day I moved out. He has no power over me anymore.

  But he did touch me.

  I can still feel the outlines of his brutal hands on my arms, and even though his grip wasn’t rough, my arms physically ache at the remembered contact.

  His hands were on me tonight. Hands that’ve forced my legs open, that have been inside my mouth, inside me. Hands that I feared for so long.

  And with that single touch, my world came crumbling down.

  I’m so trapped inside my roiling thoughts that I don’t even notice the conversation in the car has died out as we pull into Theo’s garage.

  “Angel.” Marcus’s voice is wary, filled with the same concern I heard in Theo’s t
one earlier. “What’s going on?”

  I should tell him. I promised myself I wouldn’t keep things from these men, that I’d let them see all of me.

  But I don’t want anyone to see this part.

  I don’t want this part to exist.

  A sudden sharp jolt of pain lances through me at the thought. I can feel all three of the men gazing at me, but instead of answering Marcus’s question, I fumble with my seatbelt, shove the door open, and flee inside the house.

  Chapter 22

  My pulse races as I take the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Every scar on my body seems to itch and burn, even the ones that weren’t caused by Jordan. It’s like he re-opened every single old cut and poured gasoline in the wounds.

  Phantom sensation rushes through my ruined arm, making fingers I no longer have prickle painfully.

  The hallway is dark as I practically run toward my room, and when I get inside, I don’t bother turning on the light in this room either. I shut the door and lean against the wall beside it, breathing heavily as my knees finally give out. I slide down the wall until my ass hits the floor, and then I wrap my arm around my legs, shrinking into a tight ball. My fingers dig into my calf, and I bare my teeth in a silent snarl as tears burn the backs of my eyes.

  Motherfucker.

  I want to kill him.

  I wish I fucking had.

  I wish I’d grabbed someone’s beer bottle and smashed it on a table, then shoved it through Jordan’s throat.

  But all I did was stare at him. I didn’t even say anything.

  The door opens silently, and I hate the way my body tenses with fear as it does.

  “Rose?” Theo’s voice is quiet. “What the hell is going on?”

  He closes the door behind him, and I realize he must’ve come alone. I keep my eyes pinched shut, but I’m still aware of his movement as he sinks into a crouch in front of me.

  “What happened?”

  His fingertips brush my face, and I let out a strangled noise, shoving myself harder against the wall as I cringe away from his touch. He pulls his hand away immediately, and I can hear a change in his voice when he speaks again. A hardness, as if he’s already guessed the answer to his question.

  “Did someone hurt you?”

  Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches, I nod slowly. My eyes blink open, and even though it’s still dark, I can see the outline of Theo’s face and the soft gleam of his eyes.

  “Fuck.”

  There’s so much fury and pain carried in that single word that it makes my chest ache. I’ve carried the fury and pain of my abuse in my heart for years, but I’ve never had someone feel those emotions on my behalf before.

  It lightens the burden a little, somehow, giving my lungs space to draw in a little more air.

  As they do, a sharp sob escapes me, and Theo reaches for me again before stopping himself. His hand hovers in the air between us, and I know he’s remembering the way I reacted to his touch a moment ago.

  I stare at his outstretched fingertips through the tears that cloud my vision. I want him to touch me, and at the same time, I don’t. My body still tingles everywhere, an unpleasant sensation—like there are ants crawling just below the surface of my skin.

  For years, I avoided touch. I avoided sex. It wasn’t until I met Marcus, Theo, and Ryland that something opened up inside me. The way I feel about them, the way my body seems to crave them, is something I never thought I would experience.

  But now it feels like it’s slipping away.

  I’m sinking under a heavy blanket of numbness, and my body can’t seem to distinguish between threat and safety anymore.

  “What can I do?” Theo’s hand is still poised between us, and his shadowed face looks tortured as he gazes at me in the darkness. “Tell me how I can help you, Rose. Please.”

  Tears track down my face, gathering on my chin before dripping onto my shirt. I feel like I’m falling, like I’m drifting away from myself, losing the person I’ve built myself into. And I don’t want that.

  I don’t want to lose what I’ve found.

  I don’t want to let Jordan take this from me too.

  So I drag in a deep breath and unclench my fingers from where they dig into my calf. My hand shakes, and I feel like I’m forcing my limb to move through drying cement as I reach out for Theo’s hand. When my fingers close around it, I feel him react, but he lets me guide our movements as I slowly drag it toward me.

  Straightening slightly, I press his palm against my upper chest, just above the neckline of my shirt. The prickling feeling in my skin intensifies, and I hiss out a breath. Theo tries to pull his hand away, but I cling to it harder, keeping it smashed against my chest even as my heart slams against it.

  Nausea flips my stomach over, and I clench my jaw, trying to breathe through the conflicting messages bouncing back and forth between my mind and my body.

  “Did he hurt you here?” Theo’s voice is rough but tender, his gaze steady on the place where his fingers splay over my skin.

  I nod.

  I tried like fuck not to let him, but he did. I never cared about Jordan McCabe in a way that should’ve allowed him to break my heart, but somehow, he managed to do it anyway. He broke my faith in people, and that cracked my heart open.

  “I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Theo shifts a little closer to me, his hand softening against my skin. Every part of his palm molds to my chest, and his thumb drags back and forth slowly, making little bursts of sparks erupt inside me. It still hurts, but I keep my grip on him, breathing in time to the strokes of his thumb.

  When I finally let my hand fall away, he keeps his pressed right where it is for a while, the single point of connection between us as we gaze into each other’s eyes.

  Then Theo removes his hand too.

  My body jerks forward a little, unconsciously chasing his touch, and my skin seems to chill in his absence.

  Watching me carefully, he drops his head a little, and an exhale of warm breath over my skin makes me shiver.

  “We will never hurt you, Ayla,” he murmurs. “I will never hurt you. Do you believe that?”

  The broken part of my heart wants to scream that I don’t. That I can’t. That every bit of trust I give these men will be turned into a knife to hurt me with later.

  But I don’t want to be fucking broken anymore.

  My pulse thrums hard and fast as I tug my bottom lip between my teeth. I can’t form answers with words, so I reach out for Theo again, dragging him closer until his lips brush against the spot where his hand just was. A new wave of sensation bursts through me, pinpricks that could be either pleasure or pain, and I tilt my head, staring up blankly at the ceiling.

  Theo doesn’t move.

  He just keeps his lips pressed gently against me, inhaling my skin and warming me a little more with each exhaled breath.

  Giving, not taking.

  Healing, not hurting.

  I’m pretty sure the tears dripping off my face are landing in his hair now, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. I get the feeling he’d stay here forever if I let him, and it’s that thought that finally begins to slow my racing heart.

  The feverish prickling of my nerve-endings subsides a little, and as it does, I become more and more aware of the firm warmth of Theo’s lips, of the heat radiating from his body. He’s big, broad-shouldered and muscular, but his strength doesn’t scare me.

  Because he won’t hurt me.

  Slowly, tentatively, my hand finds its way to the back of his head, fingers sliding through his hair. In response to my touch, his lips begin to move too, tracing an exploratory path over my skin.

  When he reaches my collarbone, my head lolls to one side, my eyes drifting closed as I give him access to my neck, a silent invitation to continue. He does, slowly and patiently, covering every inch of my skin with gentle kisses as a new kind of spark lights up inside me. I lose track of time as my head tilts to the other side, and when his
hands slide over my legs, I let out a soft sigh.

  I’m suddenly glad that Theo was the one who came upstairs after me. I know Marcus and Ryland would never hurt me either, but the violence of our craving for each other would’ve terrified me right now. Theo wants me just as much as they do, I’m sure of it, but there’s a sweetness and gentleness that tempers everything he does.

  And in this moment, that’s exactly what I need.

  I’m not even sure when I move or how it happens, but as Theo continues to pepper kisses across every inch of my neck and face, I rise up onto my knees before him. He matches my movement, hooking an arm around my waist as his lips finally meet mine.

  Heat gathers in my core, but Theo doesn’t let our kiss rage out of control. He kisses my lips the same way he kissed every other part of me—with slow deliberation and tenderness, each one a promise.

  A vow.

  This man will never hurt me.

  My arm tightens around his shoulders as I arch my back a little, and when I feel the press of his cock against my lower belly, a sharp zing of panic shoots through me, old memories trying to intrude again.

  He tries to draw away, but I slide my hand down to his ass, pulling him closer, grinding against him until pleasure replaces the fear.

  This man will never hurt me.

  My breath is coming a little faster, and even though I can tell he’s fighting it, his is too. I slide my hand under his shirt, skimming my fingers over the skin of his stomach and muscular back, and he groans quietly into my mouth.

  When I reach for the button of his jeans, he hesitates, pulling back a little. “Rose, I don’t want to—”

  “I do.”

  My voice is scratchy and raw, and I gaze at him in the darkness, finding the bright spots of his irises even in the dim light. He needs to hear me say it, or maybe I need to hear me say it. To prove that good things still exist, that love is still worth the fucking risk.

  “I want you, Theo,” I murmur, my fingertips still hooked in the waistband of his dark jeans. “You asked what you could do. This is it. Please.”

  He gazes at me for a second, like he’s searching for any hint of uncertainty or fear on my face. Then he gathers me in his arms and lifts me up, carrying me over to the bed.