Savage Queen

by Eva Ashwood

  Relief rushes through me. It’s exactly what I thought, exactly what I knew had to be true. He says it so honestly, so sincerely, looking almost angry at the suggestion. How can I not believe him?

  But still…

  Miles said he has evidence.

  Which means there was enough reasonable suspicion to open an investigation into this. To put agents in place. To contact me. Where did that evidence come from if Hale is telling the truth?

  “Hale.” I hold his gaze, forcing myself to push just one more time. “You wouldn’t lie to me about this, would you?”

  Something in his expression changes. A flash of hurt crosses his features before they harden a little, and he rolls me onto my back, hovering over me. “Is that what you think? That I’d lie to you?”

  I press my lips together, trying to slow the sudden pounding of my heart. “No. I just need to know—”

  “I can’t change how we started, Grace.” His blue eyes glint as he looks down at me. “You and me. I can never change the fact that I dragged you from a church in a bloody fucking dress on your wedding day. I can’t change that your father died, or that mine did. I can’t change the shit I’ve done in my life. But I’ve never lied to you about who I am or told you I’m a good man. I’m not. I’m one of the bad guys. I run an underground criminal organization. That’s what I do. It’s my birthright. My duty.”

  There’s such a look of intensity on his face that I don’t respond. I just gaze up at him, soaking in every one of his words.

  He trails a hand down the side of my face before gripping my chin, his eyes narrowing. “I have nothing to fucking hide from you. This is who I am, and I won’t lie to you about that. Ever.”

  His fingers splay over my jaw, his grip tightening a little. “So when I tell you that I don’t trade in people, you can believe that. Because after everything that’s happened between us, after everything I’ve done, I know it’s a little too fucking late to convince you I’m a good man.”

  This time when he speaks, there’s more than just sincerity in his voice. There’s something harder and darker, something that sounds like it comes from the depths of his soul. Unable to look away from his starkly handsome face, I reach up and mirror his earlier gesture, running my fingertips over the line of his cheekbone.

  “You’re a better man than you think you are, Hale Novak,” I murmur.

  Then I thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and draw him down to meet me, pressing my lips to his.

  He kisses me back, his tongue running over the seam of my lips before slipping into my mouth. His hand leaves my face, trailing down the front of my body before delving beneath the fabric of my soft, stretchy sleep pants.

  One thick finger slides inside me, and he groans when he feels how wet I am. Will I ever stop responding to his touch like this, my body always ready for him, always desperate for more?

  “I’m not a good man, Grace,” he mutters against my lips, fucking me with his finger and adding a second. “Do you know why?”

  I make a noise in my throat, rolling my hips against him as my hands grip his shoulders. My breath is already coming faster, and I gasp when he wrenches his lips away from mine to stare down at me.

  “Why?” I murmur, blinking up at him.

  “Because I want to wreck you.” His voice is rough, full of so much truth and so much hunger that it makes a shiver run through me. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and still, I want to wreck you.”

  A throaty chuckle falls from my lips as my blood heats up. Reaching down between us, I grab his hand, guiding his movements as I urge him to fuck me deeper with his fingers. “Maybe I want to be wrecked. Maybe I’m not a good woman either.”

  He groans, claiming my lips in another fierce, demanding kiss as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against my g-spot.

  “No. Not good.” Sitting back suddenly, he withdraws his hand and yanks my pants off. His shorts are gone a second later, and almost before I realize he’s naked, he slams inside of me, filling me in one hard stroke. We both freeze, our bodies pressed tightly together. “Not good,” he repeats softly. “Perfect.”

  Then, as if to prove to both of us that I can’t be broken, that I can’t be wrecked, he pulls back and drives back in, fucking me hard and fast.

  The bed rocks beneath us, the frame slapping against the wall with every thrust, and Hale pulls my tank top off before dropping his head to lick and suck my breasts. It’s not a gentle fuck, and it’s so far from making love that it’s not even on the same planet. But I can feel it anyway, the current of connection that travels back and forth between us when we come together like this.

  The reminder that our relationship might not be perfect, it might not make sense from the outside, but it’s real.

  It’s undeniable.

  It’s permanent.

  I cling to him, digging my nails into his arms and back, pulling him closer. My heels press against his ass, my legs wrapped tightly around him until he grabs my thighs and forces them open wider. Holding them tightly, he hammers into me, a look of sinful concentration on his face—as if nothing else exists in the entire world but me. As if nothing matters but this moment.

  “You feel that, Grace?” he mutters, and I don’t know if he means his cock stretching me, filling me over and over again, or the connection that binds our hearts together like a physical thing. But I do. I feel all of it.

  I nod, slipping my hand between us to find my clit. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

  He grunts, changing up his rhythm and circling his hips before pulling out entirely and flipping me over onto my stomach. He grabs a pillow and props it under my hips, then grabs my hand and brings it to my pussy, using both of our fingers to tease my clit.

  When he slides into me again, I arch my back, thrusting my ass toward him as my teeth clamp down hard on my lower lip. My face is pressed against the mattress, and when he takes my free hand and pins it behind my back, I’m truly at his mercy.

  Just like he fucking wanted.

  His finger is a blur on my clit, my hand still trapped beneath his as he torments the sensitive bud. Our skin slaps together as he drives into me from behind, and when pleasure peaks inside me, I don’t even try to muffle my scream in the blankets.

  “So fucking perfect,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around me and hauling me up, pressing my back to his chest. His other hand stays on my clit, the movements slowing but not stopping. “Come for me again, Grace. Let me fucking wreck you.”

  His tone promises something dark and delicious, and I lean back against him, letting him control me entirely—trusting him entirely.

  I know he’s not lying. He’s not teasing.

  He will wreck me.

  But in the best fucking way.

  Holding me steady with the arm that’s looped around my waist, he slams into me, picking up the tempo of his fingers until pleasure washes through me in a wave and I scream again.

  And again.

  And again.

  He’s relentless—vicious, almost—in his need to draw more pleasure out of me. Blood is rushing in my ears, and spots of white light dance in my vision. But when he thrusts as deep as he can and grinds against me, pinching my clit between his thumb and forefinger, I let go and fall over the edge one more time.

  “Fuck. Yes, baby. Fucking yes.”

  His harsh whisper falls into my ear as he pulses inside me, finally letting himself go too. For several long heartbeats, our bodies keep moving, grinding against each other, straining to get closer, to prolong the pleasure.

  Finally, we both collapse forward. Hale’s full weight rests on me, his cock still twitching inside me. He presses a wet, sloppy kiss to my shoulder and then pulls out, dropping onto his back and pulling me into his arms. Even in the sated, lazy aftermath of sex, his touch is possessive, his hold on me tight.

  He strokes my hair, running his fingers through the strands as we catch our breath.

  I’m almost asleep, my eyelids
drooping and my body melting against his, when he speaks quietly in my ear.

  “I will never lie to you, Grace.”

  16

  Hale

  Grace’s breath is slow and even, her pale features ethereal in the dim light of early morning.

  I bury my face in her soft neck, the perfect expanse of skin between her shoulder and chin. For just a few seconds, I let myself pretend I can stay here all morning with her. That I don’t have to get out of this bed and go to my father’s office.

  That I don’t have a fucking war to fight.

  Despite the shit that’s come with it, I can’t regret the fact that my father sent me, Ciro, Zaid, and Lucas to Washington to bring back her father. There are a million things I wish had happened differently, but I can’t be sorry our lives crashed into each other again. Not when her body is tangled with mine beneath the sheets and her soft exhale brushes against my neck. Not when I have her in my arms.

  I pull away a little to look down at her.

  There’s always been something about Grace that takes my breath away. I’ve never even come close to feeling it with another woman. I’m not sure what it is, not sure if it’s something as consuming as love or as violent as obsession, but I’m not going to let my mistakes touch her ever again.

  The beginning of our relationship was a fucked up mess. I refuse to let the future of our relationship be the same.

  “I am determined,” I murmur quietly, kissing her bare shoulder. “I’m determined not to fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ll keep you safe. You know that, Grace?”

  She smiles softly in her sleep, the warmth of her body rolling closer to mine. She’s still asleep, so I doubt she actually heard my words.

  But it doesn’t matter. I said them for me as much as for her. Speaking them out loud solidifies them, makes them feel real.

  Seeing her like this, vulnerable and peaceful in my bed, fills me with a sense of purpose. I meant what I said, and I intend to keep my word. I’ve fucked up so much in my life, ruined so many things, but this, right here, will not be touched. I don’t care if the world burns around me, but as long as she’s alive and I’m alive…

  I will protect Grace Weston with everything in me.

  That begins with protecting the power of the Novak Syndicate. With taking Camilla and the Rooks down. As long as Camilla and her minions are alive, Grace isn’t safe. As long as the power dynamics in Chicago are out of balance, none of us are safe.

  So I have to fix it.

  And then… one of these days, when all of those fucking problems have been fixed, I’ll enjoy a morning where I don’t have to pull myself away from her.

  Where I can stay in bed, buried inside her, until we’re both so fucking sated and exhausted we can’t move.

  Untangling myself from her body is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Leaving her warmth for the chill of the room, I remind myself that the sooner I fix this, the sooner we can build a future worth living for.

  I quietly make my way across the room to the adjoining bathroom and shower quickly, then get dressed.

  Throwing my jacket over my shoulders, I adjust the sleeves and walk back toward the bed where Grace still sleeps. I can’t help myself—she’s always drawn me in, even all the way back when we were fucking kids, and a feeling of rightness washes over me at the sight of her naked in my bed.

  Where she belongs.

  Camilla may be downright evil, psychotic to the core, but more than that—she’s cunning. She knows how to cover her tracks well. Despite our recent efforts, we’ve got absolutely nothing on the Rooks. Up until recently, we didn’t even know she was a member of the organization that’s been giving us so much trouble. She managed to keep her involvement a secret for years.

  But she hasn’t been idle all that time. She’s been working diligently, laying the groundwork for her attempted takeover of Chicago.

  And we need to find a way to fucking stop her.

  The men are getting antsy, restless. I’m getting restless. My father always told me that restlessness was a plague to be avoided—a plague that killed, because when you’re restless, you jump at anything, you grasp at strings that shouldn’t be pulled.

  We know Camilla is planning a war against us. But there’s only so much we can do to prepare for war when we don’t know how she’s planning on attacking. I’ve covered all the usual bases, but there is nothing about Camilla that’s normal or predictable. This woman doesn’t play by the books, and I don’t have any way of anticipating her moves other than sending my men out to run surveillance.

  And not even that has worked.

  Nothing. We don’t know shit about their endgame. We got more information from Leland when he was alive than we’re getting now, and we got hardly anything from him.

  I lean back in my chair, wiping a hand down my face. “Fucking hell. The Rooks were a problem before we knew Camilla was one of them. Now? They could fucking end us, Ciro.”

  He’s the only other person in my office right now, which is the only reason I speak my dark thoughts so bluntly. The rest of my men don’t need to hear my worries. They only need to hear my strategies, my plans. Shit they can act on, not just doubts stirred up in their minds.

  “We’ll find something.” He stretches his legs out as he goes over a report. “She’s been building her organization up too fast, and now she’s moving even faster. You grow that quickly, and there are bound to be a few cracks in the foundation.”

  “I fucking hope so.” A knock sounds at my office door, and I glance up. “Come in.”

  “Hale, we’ve got word on something.” Lucas enters with Zaid right behind him. They’re followed by a few of my other men. “Something that could be good.”

  I straighten up in my seat a little, my eyebrows lifting as Ciro looks up as well. “Yeah? What have you found?”

  Lucas doesn’t waste time, cutting to the chase. “We got possible intel on a deal that the Rooks are putting together from one of our undercovers. Better than that, we’ve got a time and a location.”

  “Well done.” I allow myself a grin. I’ll take anything at this point, but if this intel is good, it could give us a chance to see deeper into the Rooks’ operation. “When is this deal going down?”

  “One hour from now, southwest side of town.”

  He names an area that we don’t do business in very often because we haven’t been able to fully secure it. Vicious anger cuts through me as I shove my chair back from the desk. Of course Camilla would find that weakness in our network, in our control of the city, and exploit it.

  But she’s about to find out why every other gang in town knows better than to fuck with the Novaks.

  Lucas and Zaid have been working their asses off gathering intel, and the team they’re working with is good. So I’m not surprised when we roll up to the drop point and see that they were right.

  A black car with tinted windows is parked near the side of a building that has several broken windows and a crumbling roof, nearly invisible in the inky night. I’m not sure if it’s the buyers’ vehicle or the Rooks’, but one thing’s for damn sure—that car doesn’t belong to anyone who lives in this neighborhood.

  “Pull into that alley up there,” I tell Ciro, sliding my gun out of my shoulder holster as I keep my gaze trained out the front window of the car. “And tell the others to hang back,” I add to Lucas in the back seat.

  We have two other teams in two other vehicles, all converging on this point. We could do a drive by and cap these motherfuckers the same way they took out my father. But I’d rather take a subtle approach and see if we can catch them dropping any information before they realize they’re being watched.

  Ciro eases into the alley, and we all get out silently, closing our doors gently before moving toward the mouth of the alley. Based on where the black car is parked, I’m guessing they’ll be doing the handoff in another alley about a block down. It’s farthest away from any working streetlamps, so it giv
es them the most cover.

  Sticking to the shadows along the sides of the buildings, we make our way slowly down the block. As we near the black car, I jerk my chin, and Ciro and I split up, moving quickly toward the dark vehicle. I cover him as he yanks open the driver’s side door, dragging the man out of the seat and jamming his gun under the guy’s chin.

  But before we can do anything else, an engine revs and bright headlights flick on, their beams pointed right toward us. I’m momentarily blinded by the light, but that doesn’t stop me from firing at the new vehicle as it barrels toward us.

  Answering shots ring out, and Zaid and Lucas both shout curses.

  The vehicle—a van, I realize—slams into the front of the car we hauled the guy out of. Ciro holds the man up, using him as a fucking human shield as bullets fly from the van toward us. The guy catches two in the back, his body jerking and blood spilling from his mouth before Ciro drops him and dives for cover.

  Tires screech and more engines roar as our two backup teams haul ass into position.

  So much for keeping this fucking subtle.

  In and out, that’s what the job was supposed to be. But I should have known better, especially with how things are going these days—they’re never easy. Always messy.

  Fortunately, my teams are good. One of my men takes out the driver of the van, and the man in the van’s passenger seat hurls himself from the dark vehicle, sprinting down the street and ducking into an alley. As bullets fly behind me, I take off after him, unwilling to let even one of these fuckers go. We need to question them, and failing that, we need to kill them.

  A bullet whizzes past my head as I turn into the alley, and I skid on the rough pavement, ducking back around the corner for cover. There’s a scuffling noise, and as I peer around the rough bricks that make up the corner of the building, he fires again. I catch the flash of the weapon in the dim light and smile grimly to myself.

  Gotcha, motherfucker.