by Bethany-Kris
He wanted to find out. He’d never connected with someone like he did with Gabbie. And someone wanted to tell him to, essentially, fuck off where she was concerned? Someone thought they got an opinion on his choices?
Not likely.
These Detroit fucks didn’t know him that well.
“Since you didn’t want to say it outright,” Michel said, refusing to answer the man’s question, “I will tell you. It’s not my loyalty you ever have to wonder about.”
As long as they looked out for him, he’d look out for them.
That’s how Michel worked.
That was life.
It wasn’t about the mafia.
Sal’s jaw tightened as he muttered, “Don’t make me call on you again, Michel.”
Yeah, whatever.
• • •
Michel stepped into the club, letting his gaze drift over the people lingering near the entrance where they could drop off their bags and coats. Handing over his bag to the woman taking items from patrons, he kept his phone and wallet just in case.
He wouldn’t say he was a truly familiar face at the joint, but he had been there enough to do business—make a sale—that the bouncer at the front didn’t mind letting Michel pass for an extra hundred tucked in alongside his fake ID when the man asked to check it.
This particular club wasn’t mob-owned. Not by the Italians, or the Irish. That was one of the many reasons why Michel liked the place when he had to drop in to make an exchange with a customer. And yet, it was still quite popular, and the mob had managed not to encroach on the place.
So far.
Anything with too much success was always a threat to the mafia. If they couldn’t weasel their way in through bribery or blackmail, then they would simply turn to threats and violence to get what they wanted from the owners of the joint. It was only a matter of time.
That was background noise to Michel.
For now, anyway.
Another reason Michel liked this club? He considered it safe. At least, for the time being. If he was being followed, as Sal suggested the week before, then it wouldn’t look at all concerning for Michel to slip into a club during the weekend to do a drop off.
He was pretty sure he didn’t have someone on him twenty-four-seven from the Italian side, but more like some stupid fuck who kept Sal updated on Michel’s whereabouts. He couldn’t say anything about the Irish, but he wasn’t really the person who needed to worry about them. He had his attention on his side of things with the Italians.
Which meant when he went into a club to work, he suspected the guy probably went off to do his own thing, believing his job was done. That was his mistake, and totally fine with Michel. He had other things to attend to now.
Checking his phone as he drifted in and out of the people hanging around the entrance and closer to the bar, Michel read over the last text that he had been sent. It was the only thing that was going to tell him where he had to go inside the club, so he didn’t look like a fool staring around with no particular direction.
Middle of the dance floor.
That’s all the text read.
He grinned.
Michel headed for the dance floor, weaving through the crowd of sweaty, drunk people. It wasn’t hard at all to find the woman he was looking for once he knew where to search for her. She was the only one with that penny-colored hair, her mess of curls wild under the lights flashing up above, and her green eyes sparkling when they finally landed on him.
Gabbie.
Yeah, fucking no one was keeping him away from her. Not if he wanted to be near her, and he did. Often. Lately, she was the first thing on his mind in the morning, and the last thing at night. He reached for thoughts of her because he found comfort in them—she was the one thing he was most sure of here when everything else seemed like it was up in the air.
And he didn’t even know her that well.
Did it make sense?
Hell no.
He still liked it.
A lot.
Michel said nothing as he came to join Gabbie in the swell of people. Here, it was a safe meeting place. They could leave with a crowd of people, and drift away out of sight without anyone knowing they were even together later.
Easy.
Like cake.
Still dancing, her hips moving to the beat of the music in a way that made Michel wish he had her tight ass pressed up against his groin while she did it, Gabbie reached for him. He was already going in to grab her, too.
Her sweet lips pressed against his—her taste was still the same, too. Sweetness, and sin. He couldn’t get enough. Her tongue warred with his, and she never shied away from the forcefulness of his kiss.
Just a few days …
They’d met up earlier in the week, too.
But just a few days was too much time away from this woman. He didn’t like that at all; he didn’t want to have to plan when he could see her. That didn’t seem fair when frankly, he’d just found her.
But he would take these moments. Stolen as they were, he would still take every single one of them that he was given. Under club lights, with people shouting all around them, this was what he’d waited all week for.
Gabbie’s fingers tightened into his shirt, and her eyes danced with happiness as she peered up at him. “I thought you weren’t going to get here tonight.”
Michel chuckled, the sound muted from the level of the music. “I didn’t mean to take so long.”
She shrugged, still pleased.
That’s all he wanted.
Her pleased.
Because he did it to her.
What was happening to him?
“But the better question,” she said, grinning in that sly way of hers that he adored so much, “is when are we going to leave?”
Michel smirked right back. “Whenever you want, babe.”
Then, their fun could really get started.
• • •
The best way to start a morning?
With a woman sitting on your face.
Michel decided next to fucking Gabbie, getting her taste coating his tongue as she rocked against his mouth and begged for more was probably the best thing in the world. The more turned on this woman was, the hotter she became. Her skin, her pussy, her cum. All of it.
And he couldn’t fucking get enough.
Michel wrapped his palms around her ass to hold her steady as her movements became more frantic the closer she came to her orgasm. Her thighs tightened around his head, and he looked up to see her fingers digging into the leather-covered headboard as her head tipped back, and the sexiest moan fell from her lips.
“Oh, my God … Michel.”
Yeah, nothing better.
She shuddered when he drew her clit between his lips, and sucked hard on the bud. Her thighs clenched as she broke all apart above him, those cries becoming breathless with every spasm of her body. He decided, too, that nothing was better than watching Gabbie get off because he was the one making her do it.
It was primal, really. That tightening in his chest, and the male pride that coursed through his system. His fucking cock ached like nothing else, which wasn’t something he bothered to hide when she slid down his body like a cat who had just gotten her cream. That sexy smile curving her pink lips teased him as she drifted lower on the bed until her hands were stroking him awake, too.
Her fingers flexed around his cock—stroking him harder at the tip, and then looser at the base. And when she added her mouth to the mix, too? Sucking him as she jerked him off?
Michel had no fucking control. His hands fisted into those red curls of hers, and his hips lifted to get just a little bit more of his dick into the wet, warm heat of her mouth. That tongue of hers flicked and flattered against the head of his cock every time she came up again, making him see stars whenever he closed his eyes.
“Holy fuck,” Michel grunted out. “You’re going to make me blow my load if you don’t slow down.”
She didn’t see
m to care.
He was fine with that.
Michel lost himself in the feeling of her mouth and hands working his dick while he reveled in the silkiness of her hair tangling with his fingers, not to mention the curve of her back, and the peak of her ass as she lifted it higher.
Yeah.
He came harder than he expected.
Gabbie took every fucking drop, too.
Was it supposed to be this hard to breathe?
Michel released Gabbie’s hair from his grip, so that he could scrub his hands down his face and try to see straight again. As he blinked, and peeked through his fingers, he watched her rest along the curves of his body, her softer form melding perfectly with his hard lines.
God.
She was a sight.
“That was a great way to wake up,” she told him, grinning.
Michel chuckled. “Tell me about it, although that’s not what I meant to do.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Why?”
“It’s five—nobody is going to see you leave my house because I doubt any of them are watching me right now. It’s a Sunday. Everybody will be trying to get as much sleep as they can before they have to show up and make face at church.”
That was just how it worked for made men.
Michel lived his whole life watching it.
“So, you woke me up, and then decided to eat my pussy just so you could tell me I had to leave?”
He eyed her, and shrugged. “Kind of, yeah.”
She smacked his side lightly with her palm. “Arsehole.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
And he would.
“Let’s get up,” he added.
Gabbie made a disgusted noise. “Fine.”
It took them no time at all to get dressed, and head downstairs.
“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out of your place first thing in the morning,” Gabbie joked
She tossed him a sexy little wink over her shoulder. At the same time, she pulled on her shoes and jacket. Michel lingered a few steps down the hall, leaning with his shoulder to the wall to keep himself from grabbing a hold of her. If he did that, then he was going to pull her back to bed. The two of them would never leave it.
“Do you do this to all the women you bring home?”
She still had that joking tone, sure, but Michel’s reaction didn’t factor that in at all. He pushed away from the wall in a blink, and crossed the small bit of space between them before she had even looked up from the zipper of her jacket.
He caught her around the waist with one arm, and his lips came down on hers with bruising intent. He only had one thing in mind, and he needed to make sure it was absolutely clear to this woman, so she never had to wonder about it. Even if she wasn’t wondering at all, or she didn’t care, he still wanted his position to be understood between the two of them.
Gabbie’s sweet little gasp was swallowed up by his kiss. She still tasted like him—like their sex, and his bed. Her warm mouth only urged him on, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting his hands travel over her body as he pushed her into the wall.
She squirmed under his hold, the same way she did in bed when he pinned her down, and fucked her harder. And yet, never once did she break their kiss, even as her nails slipped under his T-shirt to score lines down his back.
Fuck.
He loved that sting.
But he was reminded of the time.
Their situation.
And what he wanted her to know.
Michel pulled away from the kiss before he could get too carried away. He didn’t miss the way Gabbie pouted, but really, it only made his dick twitch. Like he might enjoy showing her just what he could do with that pout of hers.
Back on task, Michel.
Right, right.
“There’s no other women coming in here,” he said.
Gabbie blinked. “What?”
“No women. Not here. Just you.”
“I was—”
Michel nodded, stopping her from saying more. “You were joking, babe, I know. But I wanted that to be clear here. There’s no one else I’m seeing in any kind of way. It’s just you, that’s all.”
A sweet, sexy smile curved her lips.
“Just me, huh?”
“Just you,” he echoed.
Gabbie’s tongue peeked out to swipe across her bottom lip, and he had the strangest urge to press his thumb against the seam of her mouth just to feel the warmth and wetness she left behind. Everything about this girl did that for him—drove him crazy, and made him want to do things he’d never gave a single shit about before.
Why?
He didn’t know.
It didn’t matter.
It just was.
“That’s good to know,” she told him.
Michel winked, and dropped one more quick kiss to her lips. He couldn’t afford much more because if he did drag her back to bed, the risk was too high that someone might see her leave later in the day. God. He wanted to keep her here, though. So badly it made his fucking heart ache like nothing else ever had.
Gabbie didn’t miss the shift in his mood if her lowering gaze was any indication. That soft smile slipped from her lips, and she patted his cheek with a gentle palm. “Next time, right?”
“Yeah, babe, next time.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“You know it.”
Her smile was back.
He liked that better.
“I better get going,” she said, slipping out from under his embrace. “But call me later, aye?”
Michel nodded. “I will.”
He was fine with turning to watch her open the front door of his house, and step out on the stoop. He only started to turn away when the door began to close behind her, and she was almost out of his view.
Then, the shooting started. Bullets peppered the side of his house as tires screeched somewhere outside. Glass shattered.
She screamed.
The first thing Michel ran for was her.
TEN
All Gabbie had to do was close her eyes, and she could hear the bullets again. She could smell the crisp air that suddenly tasted bad, dirty, and wrong as she dropped to the ground to get out of the way. She could feel the panic swelling in her heart again, squeezing so feckin’ tight that she couldn’t breathe.
Behind her eyes, she saw it all.
Clear.
Painful.
So real.
Because it was real.
It did happen.
“Get out of me feckin’ way before I nail my goddamn fist to your mouth permanently, you absolute gobshite.”
Gabbie knew her father was in the hospital before he ever even stepped a single foot inside her room. She could hear his bellowing all the way down the hallway. She wasn’t exactly sure where Michel was now, but she was hoping he managed to get out of sight. He’d slipped out of her room when people from her family started showing up, and things got a little tense in the waiting room because he was simply there, sitting in a chair.
It pissed her off.
She wanted him.
No one would understand. He wasn’t like them. He wasn’t their people. He was the other—the outsider, and the enemy. They wouldn’t care that all she wanted was for him to crawl in her hospital bed, wrap her in his arms, and hide her away from the rest of the world while she waited for her father to arrive.
She closed her eyes, pain slicing through her heart because she was quite aware of just how alone she was in her hospital room despite the nurse that tittered around. She hadn’t been injured—not really. A few scrapes from falling to the wood of the front porch to avoid the spray of bullets. A bruise on her knee from Michel dragging her back inside the safety of the house as he shouted for her to keep her head down.
Still, the few injuries and stress of the day were enough for the hospital to decide to keep her overnight given it had her glucose levels rising dangerously. Police came in, too. They took her statem
ent—not that she had anything to say because she was well aware of how this life and world worked. She couldn’t speak at all, so she mostly lied when asked for details. They took her clothes; the hospital gave her a gown to wear, and strapped a paper bracelet to her arm that designated her as a patient.
She didn’t want to be here at all.
Anywhere but here.
Gabbie didn’t know …
Would she have survived if he hadn’t came out to help her?
Would she still be here?
She couldn’t think on it for very long. It took no time at all before her father had made his way down the hallway, and darkened her doorway. The nurse in the corner, refilling her water jug and cup of ice, didn’t even notice his presence until she turned to leave and there he was. All towering six-feet-five-inches of an angry Irishman who looked like he was about to kill her if she didn’t get the feck out of his way.
“Move, lass,” he uttered through clenched teeth.
The nurse blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Get out.”
That time, his words echoed back to them as it bounced off the walls from the level his tone took in his anger. The nurse didn’t waste time getting the hell out of the room, and honestly, Gabbie didn’t blame the girl.
She was ready to shrink away when her father’s gaze landed on her, too. Funny how that worked … except it wasn’t funny at all.
“Gabbie,” he said, voice thick with emotion she couldn’t place.
Gabbie stared at her hands. “I … I’m so—”
The apology was the first thing she thought to say. Not because she blamed herself for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, but simply because whenever her father was mad, the first thing she did was apologize for angering him.
“Don’t … Christ, lass, don’t you dare.”
She looked up, then, finding her father just beyond the doorway of the hospital room. At his sides, his fists clenched into tight, shaking balls. In fact, his entire body vibrated the same way, shudders wracking his shoulders as his jaw tightened almost rhythmically.
Charles let out a hard breath, his gaze taking her in on the bed like he was trying to imprint every inch of her to his memory. Or maybe, he was finally taking her in and making sure she was, in fact, fine. She didn’t know what he had been told when he got the call that she’d been involved in a drive-by, and was now at the hospital.
