by Madison Faye
And that was it.
It’s just been us since our parents passed away six years ago when I was nineteen and Keily was fifteen. The car wreck brought me home from college to take care of her, and it was then that I got into nursing instead of whatever I was going to do at college before. So, I worked, I studied my butt off, and I made sure Kiely had as close to normal teenage years as possible. Sure, she might be a little wild here and there, but this is something new.
This is something bad.
Five days of not hearing from her at all, and I snapped. I took vacation time at the hospital, flew to Boston, and I’ve been looking for her ever since. Her roommate at Boston University was a little flighty, and it didn’t seem like they were all that close anyways, so that was a dead end. A few of her professors seemed concerned, but only in kind of a surface way. The freaking police didn’t even think it was anything to worry about. Yeah, they took a statement and made a report, but the guy in charge of the case mostly just shrugged and told me she was probably “on spring break.”
Fucking what?
Finally, it was one of her regulars at the Irish bar she works at that gave me the first real tip. The guy said he’d seen a couple of “rough types” coming in to harass her on the job. That much I knew, but the guy was also a local Southie resident, and gave me a little more information on these guys that sent a chill through me: they weren’t just drunk dickheads who liked cat-calling bartenders. These guys were gang affiliated.
Even worse? They were affiliated with a gang known for getting girls hooked on drugs to pimp them out. Yeah that’s pretty much when I went from freaked out to scared out of my fucking mind.
The cops were still no help and were still convinced she was just “being a college kid” somewhere, like that’s even a thing. And so, I’ve spent the last few weeks digging hard into this. I’ve gone to every fucking Irish bar in Boston. I’ve paid bartenders and patrons and guys begging for change on street corners for information—anything at all.
I’ve poked my head into obvious “front” businesses—stores that clearly don’t sell a thing but exist to cover the drug factory or gambling den behind them. I’ve tried to buy my way into illicit poker games known for attracting the Boston underground types.
And nothing has gotten me any closer to finding Keily.
I sigh, stretching again. Fuck, I need a drink. A shower first, and then definitely a drink.
The water is hot and steaming, and I gasp as I slip under it. Fuck that feels good. I’m used to long shifts at the hospital, but the last few weeks have felt like years—I’m barely finding time to eat or sleep or bathe. I close my eyes and let it stream over me, my muscles relaxing as I sigh happily.
Slowly, I force myself to clear my head. I know it’s weird, but there’s a part of me—a big part of me—that knows Kiely is okay. I mean, that sounds ridiculous given what’s going on, but my sister and I are really, really close, and I know in my heart that if something really awful had happened to her, I’d have felt it somehow.
I just know it.
She’s still missing, and this whole situation is still completely fucked, but I cling to the notion that where she is, she’s okay. I just wish she’d reach out and let me know.
Instead, my mind clears and my body slowly uncoils, different thoughts slip into my head.
Different, hotter thoughts.
I blush when it seeps in, but it can’t be helped. The hotel I’m staying in is a dump, full of all sorts of sketchy types. That is, except for them. At first, I thought it was one guy, but after a few glimpses of “him” at the coffee vending machine in the hotel lobby, or outside, I slowly realized it was actually two of them—twins, I think. And it seems like they’re also staying in this shithole.
Crappy neighborhood, sketchy hotel, but crazy gorgeous guys.
I blush again.
…Yeah, it’s made for some, well, interesting nights alone when they’ve slipped into my head the last week or so.
Under the shower spray, my skin tingles as I think of them again—that dark hair, those chiseled jaws. And huge, like they’re freaking football linebackers or something. I think of the sleeve tattoo, the broad shoulders—the fact that one’s got dark eyes, and the other blue. I shiver, and the heat begins to swell inside of me. My hands slide down my body with a mind of their own, and I know there’s no stopping this.
My fingers slide over my clit, making me gasp as I sink against the tiled wall of the shower. My eyes close as the hot water teases over my skin, and I moan as the pleasure throbs deep inside.
Fuck, I must have no self-control.
To be fair, it’s been a very, very long time since I’ve been touched by anyone but myself, and it’s also been a hell of a few weeks with the whole Keily thing. And the two mysterious and hot guys staying somewhere in this dumb hotel are the ultimate fantasy escape, even if it’s just for a few quick minutes in the shower. Maybe I just need some fantasy.
Maybe I just need an escape.
My fingers rub faster, rolling my hard clit under them as I moan and sink against the shower wall. I cup one of my breasts, pinching a nipple and bringing a cry to my lips as I squeeze my eyes shut and think of them. I can feel myself getting closer, my entire body rippling and clenching and aching for release. My fingers move faster, my core tightens, and then—
…And then, there’s the sound of splintering wood and a crashing sound from outside the bathroom.
My heart jumps into my throat as I lurch from the shower and go to the door. I barely crack it before I scream at the sight of three men with guns glaring right at me with wicked grins on their faces. The three of them come right for me, and I shriek, turning to slam the door shut but instantly slipping on the tile floor. I gasp, my feet flying up in the air before I crash to the ground. I wince as my head slams against the floor, and I look up in horror at the three men advancing.
And then, suddenly, there’s a second crash behind them. The door to the adjoining room—which is of course usually locked on both sides—explodes in a shower of splintered wood, and suddenly, two figures come charging through.
And my jaw drops.
It’s them—the two guys I’ve literally just been fantasizing about, but in the flesh, guns in hand, and animal roars on their lips as they explode into the room. One of them raises a gun and fires, and I scream as the man closest to the door grunts and falls to the floor. The two other turn to bring their own guns up, but the twins are faster, bellowing wildly as they charge, guns blasting. I shriek and cover my head, but it’s over in a second.
And then, it’s silent.
“Charlotte!”
I realize my ears are ringing, and I blink as I look up, and up, and up at the huge, muscled man with sharp blue eyes standing over me, reaching down. I blink again, and suddenly, I take it all in, and realize I can add another adjective to that list: naked.
I blush wildly as I kick away from him, my eyes drinking in the view of his huge, muscled, chiseled body—and I do mean all of his body. Muscled chest, grooved abs, chiseled Adonis muscles pointing in a v-shape down to…
My face burns, but I can’t even pretend not to look at the cock hanging thick, hard and freaking huge between his muscled thighs. My eyes dart past him, and I gasp as I realize the other one—the one with the dark eyes—is standing behind him, and also completly bare-assed. They’re both inked and hard and naked over the three would-be attackers lying crumpled on the floor—like they’re two Spartan warriors or something insane like that.
And suddenly, it all hits me. Suddenly, I realize I’ve just seen three men killed in front of my eyes. Suddenly, it hits me that two other guys, who happen to be absolutely naked and gorgeous are standing here, staring at me.
And it definitely hits me that they know my name.
“Wait… what… who…”
I’m mumbling, and I’ve got enough medical training to know I’m probably in shock, but I can’t shake it. The dark-eyed one, who I suddenly r
ealize is bleeding from the arm, locks eyes with me as he strides right into the bathroom and holds out a hand.
“We need to go, now.”
“I—who—”
“Ben,” he growls deeply, making me blink at the Irish lilt in his voice. “This is Gavin, and we’re going to get you the fuck out of here, but we need to go right now before more of them show up. Do you understand?”
I swallow, just staring at him—vaguely aware that I’m naked too but still in too much shock to do a thing about it.
“Charlotte, blink if you understand me.”
Slowly, I blink.
“Let’s go.”
I gasp as he grabs my wrists and yanks me to my feet, and suddenly, they’re on either side of me, guns out, completely nude, and growling as we go rushing out of the hotel room and down the hall. We stumble into a stairwell, and I realize I’m clinging to them as they rush us all the way down until we get to a door that leads into the back parking lot. It’s dark outside, but suddenly, probably still in shock, I start to laugh at how insane it must look to see the three of us naked and streaking through a parking lot in the middle of freaking March.
The icy ground is freezing under my feet, but that’s actually a good sign that I can feel it. Maybe the shock is wearing off.
They barrel me straight to a beat-up looking SUV and hustle me into the backseat before jumping in up front. The blue-eyed one—Gavin—takes the wheel, the dark-eyed man—Ben—still grunting as he puts a hand to his bloodied arm.
“You’re hurt,” I murmur through my haze.
“It’s fine,” he grunts quietly before turning to Gavin. “Dorchester safe house, now.”
Gavin just nods as he slams the SUV into drive, and we peel out of the parking lot.
“Wait, where…” I blink, shaking my head, and slowly, the reality that I’m naked and alone in a car with two strangers driving off into the night hits me, and my stomach clenches as my heart skips a beat.
“Here,” Ben growls, turning to hand me something. I realize it’s a huge, man-sized button up flannel shirt, and I blink as I lock eyes with him.
“Thanks,” I whisper, quickly pulling it on and buttoning it up, at least partially covering my nudity.
“Who—”
“We’re going to protect you, Charlotte,” he growls quietly, never blinking as his eyes hold mine. “We’re going to protect you.”
He turns back, and I gasp as the car rumbles into the cold Boston night. Just me and two absolutely gorgeous, inked, muscled, completely naked Irish guys, headed who the hell knows where.
Charlotte Halsting, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?
Chapter Three
Ben
The beat-up old Explorer roars towards the safe house, the heat rattling away trying to keep us a least somewhat not freezing, given that it’s fucking March 16th, in New England.
And, you know, we’re fucking naked.
Naked, bloodied, holding illegal guns, and speeding through the streets of South Boston is an all-around shite idea, but I don’t really see an alternative. I glance at my brother, and I know he’s having the same thoughts. This isn’t the best plan—fuck, it’s not a “plan” at all—but we need to put distance between us and whatever the fuck just happened back there.
The men who charged in weren’t with the Syndicate, that I know. If anything like that was going to go down, believe me, Gavin and I would have been told. Besides that, I caught a brief glimpse at some of the ink on the guys we shot back there, and that laid it all out clear: Russian Bratva. I don’t know what the fuck the Russian mob wants with her, but all I do know is, they were after her, and neither Gavin or I were going to let that happen in a million fucking years.
I glance into the review mirror, my eyes sweeping over Charlotte. She’s curled in a ball in the backseat, clearly trying to keep it together after what she just saw. She’s got the big shirt of mine that was sitting on the seat on around her now—and I’m so much bigger than her that it fits like a damn dress. Well, or skirt—a very short, very revealing skirt, at that.
I growl, my eyes slipping lower in the darkness of the car. She’s got her knees up, her arms around them, and I know a whole pile of shit’s just been dropped at her feet, but fuck me, I can’t help it. Because right there, in the shadows between her thighs, my eyes lock onto her pretty, pink, pouty little pussy.
And I fucking groan. I groan and my cock begins to thicken and swell with a mind of its own. Gavin glances over at me and frowns before he raises a brow as if to say, “what in the holy fucking hell is wrong with you.” But I just shrug and nod my chin back at Charlotte. He glances in the mirror, and then he’s also biting back a growl at what he sees.
“Eyes on the road, brother,” I mutter.
Gavin takes one more look before he whistles slowly and turns his gaze back to driving.
“Where are we going?”
Her voice is quiet, and soft. I turn to look back at her, doing my best to cover my cock with my hands, even if I might need another four hands to actually pull that off given my size. It’s not that I’m embarrassed at being hard, I just don’t want to freak her out any more than she already is.
“Safe house,” I growl quietly. “Where you’ll be safe.”
Gavin snorts next to me, and I elbow him hard. But Charlotte seems to smile.
“That sounds…” she bites her lip impishly. “Safe?”
Gavin snickers, and I elbow him again.
“Are you hurt?” I growl softly.
She shakes her head.
“I can come back there if you’re… you know…” I frown. “If you’re…”
“Freaking out?”
I smile softly, nodding, and she nods.
“I—yeah, sure.” She bites her lip. “Please.”
I nod, undoing my seatbelt. I start to crawl back, and Charlotte gasps at my nudity, and at my still-hard cock.
“Oh, God, I’m… sorry, I—”
“It’s you,” I growl.
Charlotte frowns. “Pardon?”
I smile as I sink into the seat next to her and reach down to grab whatever I can off the floor of the old beater, which ends up being an old baseball hat. Wonderful. I place it over my stubbornly big erection, which is honestly just comical. But I shrug and turn back to her.
“This, I mean,” I mutter, nodding at my lap. “It’s you. I just mean it’s not like I get hard shooting people.”
She blushes wildly and bites back a grin. Gavin chuckles from the driver’s seat.
“Who were those men? And who…”
She frowns, and I know she wants to say, “and who are you,” but she just stops.
“Russian Bratva, I think,” I growl. “But if nothing, else, they were men who wanted to hurt you, and we weren’t going to let that happen.”
Gavin yanks the wheel, and the car dips down a driveway into an underground parking garage. He pulls to the end and turns the engine off, parking us right next to a stairwell.
“We’re here,” he growls.
I nod and open the door, turning to help Charlotte out. Her eyes slip down my body, and I can see her blush as they land on my hand still holding the hat over my dick. Gavin comes around to her side of the car, not a care in the world apparently about his own half-hard cock.
“This way, love,” he purrs, eying Charlotte before he turns to the stairwell door. She follows him, and I follow her, and I won’t even try to say I’m not staring at her tight little ass peeking out from under the tails of my shirt on the way up the stairs.
At the top, while Gavin’s unlocking the door to the safe house apartment, she finally asks it.
“Okay, stop,” she finally says with a shaky voice. She steps back away from us, eying us both with a hard look.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Could ask you the same question,” Gavin mutters.
“Oh, me?” she snaps. “See, you already know me, apparently. You knew my name, at least, and when th
ose guys broke in…” her eyes narrow. “Actually, yeah, let’s talk about that.”
Gavin frowns. “About how we saved you?”
“About how you were there in like one fucking second,” she spits back.
Fuck it. We could dance around this, or we could just get it out in the open and see where it leads. Also, after witnessing the way she freaked back there with those guys rushing in, this whole theory of this girl being law enforcement seems pretty fucking weak. She also doesn’t have a gun. I mean what sort of fucking FBI agent doesn’t have a gun?
“Fine,” I growl, eying Gavin before I keep going. “We were in the room next to yours. That’s how we got there so fast.”
She chews on that, but I keep going.
“And we were there, and we know your name, because we were keeping an eye on you.”
She pales.
“Excuse me?” she growls. “What do you mean, keeping an eye on me?”
“Watching you,” Gavin mutters.
Her face reddens. “Uh, okay, why exactly?”
“I think you know,” he answers quietly, eyeing her with suspicion mixed with lust.
“Enlighten me,” she snaps furiously.
“Okay, stop,” I growl, stepping forward. “Enough. We’re not having this shit out in the fucking hallway,” I mutter at Gavin before turning to push the door open. I turn back to Charlotte.
“Inside, now.”
“Fuck off.”
“Look,” I growl. “Gavin and I, we’re with the Irish Syndicate, here on special assignment from Dublin to watch you.”
“Why the fuck are you watching—”
“Listen, love,” I grumble. “The facts are, some not nice fuckers were there to kill you, and we stopped them, at no small danger to us and ours. So how about we get inside the fucking apartment, yeah?”
She chews on her lip, but slowly, she nods.
