Permanent Lines

by Ashley Wilcox

  I bypassed her lips and went right for her neck. I was already ready to taste every inch of her warm, heated skin. With just the first suck of her neck, her body went limp, her breathing heavy. I grinned against her skin, loving the way her body reacted to mine.

  The further I traveled the more intense her grip became on my back, her nails dragging so exotically against my skin that I was sure she could draw blood.

  “Oh God, Merrick,” she murmured, her tone sexy as hell as I pulled her hard, puckered nipple into my mouth.

  I wasn’t a huge one for tits, but with Amelia, everything was different. They fit perfectly in the palms of my hands and tasted better than any tit should. It was like fucking Christmas between the both of them, making me want to hang out there all day, taking turns between them both. Not to mention, she fucking loved it. With every suck and flick of my tongue, her moans increased and her back arched, pushing them further into my face. God, it was fucking wonderful!

  But I wanted more, to get a taste of something else. Licking each tit before departing, I continued my way down, bringing her left leg over my right shoulder, but something made me stop, making my heartbeat race and anger climb. I finally got a good look at her tattoo, the one that was always too dark to make out in the bedroom.

  I stood up and took a step back, shaking my head, speechless. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I pointed to where it sat, right above her pelvic bone. “You let him brand you?”

  The blood completely vanished from her face, all sense of hormone-induced pleasure gone. “It was a long time ago …”she started to explain.

  “It’s a fucking chastity belt, Amelia … with his fucking name written inside of it!” I threw my hands up in the air. “He fucking pissed on your stomach like a damn dog marking its territory,” I added, whipping open the glass door to the shower, any trace of desire gone from my body.

  She followed behind, water dripping all over the floor. “Merrick … stop! Please.”

  I turned to face her. “How the hell am I supposed to make love to you when you have permanent lines from that fucker painted on your skin?”

  Her chin dropped to her chest as tears streamed down her face.

  “Huh? You wanna tell me how the fuck I’m supposed to love you when I have his name staring me in the goddamn face?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  I yanked the towel from the rack, wrapping it around my waist. “Exactly!” I added before turning and walking heatedly back into the bedroom.

  I put my hands on my hips and looked down, closing my eyes as soon as I was out of her sight. The magnitude of it all was hitting me, the anger that I was carrying inside seeping out in full force. The bastard was haunting me from every angle. He had me by the fucking balls, controlling every aspect of my life and relationship. He didn’t need to be in the room or threatening my life, he had me down on the ground already, pinned with no way of tapping out.

  By the time Amelia came out of the bathroom, I was already dressed and in the living room. I was jonesing to get out, take a walk, clear my head, do something, but I was stuck. I knew the controlling fuck that Antonio was, but to have it smacked in my face every time I looked at my girl’s stomach made me sick.

  I reached for the TV remote, if that’s what you wanted to call it. The thing looked so high tech, with everything digital on a little screen, that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to even turn the TV on. Fucking Christ! I didn’t even bother with it, putting it back on the coffee table where I found it.

  I was chomping at the bit already being on house arrest; it was like I was withdrawing from a drug—I was antsy and jittery as I looked around for something to do. I couldn’t handle it. I was a workhorse, always doing something. Whether it was for the bar or racing, I was always busy. This fucking sucked, and the more I sat around doing nothing, the more I thought about how fucked my life was. All because of a girl. My fucking father was probably rolling around in his grave on this one. He always told me to never settle for anyone, even if she had a nice ass body and could blow my mind in the bedroom. He never mentioned what to do if I would fucking die from loving her so hard.

  I rested back on the cushions of the couch, hands intertwined behind my head and looking up at the ceiling. This would be a good fucking time for my old man to be around. There weren’t many times that I reached out or prayed for his guidance, but dammit, I was now. I’d like to think I was making the right choice, that the belief that real love didn’t come by twice was true, that she was the one.

  When I heard the elevator door chime open, I turned quickly, glancing over my shoulder to see who was here. Kayla and Miles weren’t supposed to be here until later. What I saw made me leap from my seat, shouting for her to stop.

  I jumped over the back of the couch, my legs not moving as fast as I wanted them to, almost falling on my face before the doors shut. My hand caught in the small opening, grabbing them before they closed.

  Her eyes were bloodshot, her face still wet from the tears. “Please, Merrick, let me go!” she pleaded, trying to remove my hand from the opening.

  The doors spread back open, allowing me to stand in the frame. “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not going anywhere?”

  My eyes shut and my chin dropped to my chest when I realized what I was saying—I was demanding that she stay, the same as Antonio had done for years. What if she didn’t want to stay? What if the painting I colored in my head was one-sided? The doubt of her love for me was plowing into me like a ton of bricks.

  I looked up, pain consuming my body. “Do you not love me? Is that what this is about?”

  Her hands covered her face, hiding her emotions. I stood tall, my hands in my pockets and heart knotted in my chest, waiting for her reply.

  She shook her head as her hands dropped lifelessly to her sides. “Please don’t do this. Please just let me go; it’s the best for both of us.”

  “Answer the question, Amelia.”

  Two tears streamed down her face as she slowly shook her head. “No,” she said quietly, not able to look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” she added before hitting the button for the doors to shut.

  I stepped back, letting them. Her face remained on the floor; she wasn’t allowing herself to face the mess that she caused.

  I stood there for a moment after they closed, staring at the reflection of myself in the gold metal, not believing what just happened, not believing that she left. I shook my head. There was no way! There was no fucking way that girl didn’t feel the same way!

  “Bullshit!” I shouted to no one in particular, pushing the arrow button down so hard that I wouldn’t be surprised if I broke it. “Why aren’t there any fucking stairs here?!”

  The doors opened on cue, and once inside, I cursed the slowness of the elevator; it wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. I would never forgive myself if I lost her for good.

  When the doors finally opened, I turned the corner like I was being chased by a serial killer. Her hand had just lifted to the handle of the glass door when I saw her.

  “Bullshit!” I shouted out again from the other side of the room.

  Her body froze, still gripping the handle. She didn’t turn or even move as I walked towards her with authority.

  “Sir …” the woman started speaking to me from behind the front desk, but I put my hand up for her to stop.

  “Bullshit,” I said again, but in a lower tone now, only a foot or two behind her.

  Her hand fell slowly as she gradually turned to face me. “What did you say?” she asked, her face blank and eyes squinted, looking at me in question.

  I removed the space between us, a sly grin on my face. “Bullshit,” I told her again, my words almost a whisper this time. “You’ve gotta stop trying to protect me, baby, because no irate mobster would ever make me feel pain like I felt when we weren’t together. You can try and tell me all fucking day that you don’t love me, but I’ll call bullshit each
and every time.”

  Her tongue pressed against her upper teeth and I knew she was questioning her next statement. I stood there, waiting, smiling and ready for the next line of BS she was going to throw at me. There wasn’t a damn thing she could say to make me let her walk away again. Call me a controlling fuck, but it wasn’t happening. I wasn’t just a lovestruck fool—that girl loved me and what we had was real, Goddammit, and I wasn’t going to let her say otherwise.

  “You do realize how stupid you are for loving me, right?” she asked, a smirk appearing on her face.

  “Baby, I would never argue the fact. I’ve been a stupid fuck my whole life; no need to change that now.”

  Her smirk changed to a smile. “Well, good, because you’re the stupidest asshole I’ve ever met.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that statement is accurate.”

  She chuckled. “You just might be right.”

  I wrapped my arm around her waist and kissed her forehead before turning back towards the elevators, grabbing her hand once we were walking. “You do realize your ass is going to be hauled over my shoulder, stripped naked, and thrown down on the bed two seconds after we step foot in that apartment, right?” I warned.

  “I thought you said you could never make love to me again now that you saw my tattoo?”

  Turning to face her, I grabbed her hips firmly with both hands, holding her close and tightly to my body. “I’ll just close my eyes right before I make love to that sweet pussy,” I whispered against her lips.

  Her eyes shot opened, shocked by my choice in words, making me chuckle.

  “Say it,” I said, our faces almost touching.

  She tilted her head with a peculiar look, apparently confused.

  “Tell me you love me.”

  Her arms reached up and wrapped loosely around my neck. She inched closer, her lips so close to mine that a sheet of paper wouldn’t even fit in between them. “I love you.”

  My cheek lifted with amusement. “Say it again.” I bit my lip, trying to contain myself from yelling with excitement.

  With our lips now touching, allowing me to feel her words, she said, “I love you, Merrick Drake.”

  It was just after seven when Kayla and Miles came over. Amelia and I were sitting at the kitchen island eating the dinner that Mrs. Doubtfire made for us and talking; it seemed almost normal. I was actually liking the food at whatever hour we wanted and the chicken riggies made from scratch were balls fucking good.

  “Hey,” Kayla greeted us, using my fork to help herself to some of my food.

  “Help yourself,” I told her sarcastically.

  She smiled. “I did. Thanks.”

  I stood, noticing Miles quietly glaring out the windows at the space where the new skyscraper was being built at Ground Zero. I’d never seen Miles so standoffish and intense. Yeah, he was business 24/7, except when he was with Kayla, but this was a whole new level. He was mute. Intimidating … even to me.

  Without speaking a word, I moved to stand beside him, my hands in my pockets, looking at the same thing. It was pretty unbelievable, actually. The new building was going to be huge and covered with mirrors. I think any New York City resident held a special place in their heart for that area of the city. I didn’t live here when it happened, but it didn’t matter; it happened on my home turf and it wasn’t something we took lightly. Seeing the progress and the beauty going into the place where such a dreadful thing happened was a pretty amazing sight.

  “Pretty amazing, huh?” I asked, breaking the silence.

  Within the last day, Miles and I had spoken more than we had over the six months he and Kayla had been together. I hated that it was because I needed him, but I guess, whatever way you looked at it, it was bringing us a little closer. Not the way I think Kayla was hoping, of course, but we were communicating nonetheless.

  He didn’t respond to my question, getting to business instead. “I had some guys stop at McShane’s today.”

  My gut clenched. The bar was my baby. As ridiculous as it sounded coming from a guy like me, it really was. That place was my new beginning; I kind of saw the bar as when my life finally began.

  I nodded my head but didn’t speak. I didn’t know what the hell to say.

  He shook his head and I steeled myself for his report. “It didn’t look good,” he said succinctly, keeping his gaze outside. “They destroyed the place, including the living space upstairs.”

  I swallowed hard. I kind of figured the fucker would do that. I had what he wanted. I’m pretty sure that didn’t sit well with a controlling mafia bastard.

  “I can’t be sure if they took anything. I’m not aware of your belongings, but drawers were pulled, cupboards torn apart, the mattress pulled apart and flipped. I’m sure they were looking for any collateral to hold against you or information for a lead to your whereabouts. I’m almost positive he knows you have Amelia.”

  “Well, shouldn’t I call the police? Maybe they can take care of him, and I’m sure I’ll need a police report for insurance.”

  He shook his head sadly, some of the first emotion I’d see him show towards me and my situation. “That would do you more harm than good. The mob pays out the police force and you would have to be present when searching through the damage.”

  “Revealing my identity,” I supplied.

  “Precisely.”

  “Awesome,” I said through a clenched jaw, 100% pissed. I was a fucking sitting duck. The fucker could destroy whatever he wanted and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I hated the fucking mob. HATED them! A bunch of Italian fuckers that thought they were hot shit only because they were fucking psychotic and would kill off any person that looked at them wrong. Funny thing was, they were the biggest pussies ever, never doing their dirty work themselves, always having their minions do it for them. At least, that’s what I’d heard. Before now, I’d stayed the fuck away from the mob.

  We turned as Amelia and Kayla joined us, both Miles and I trying our best to not look either pissed off or panicked, but Amelia obviously could see through it, asking right away, “What’s wrong?”

  I rubbed my face and exhaled before looking at her. “They destroyed my place and the bar.”

  Shame covered her face, and I hated it.

  “It’s not your fault, baby, so don’t even go there,” I told her.

  “But it’s your bar, your home,” she protested.

  I heard the emotion building in her tone and grasped her arms, squaring myself to her. “All material things, love. They can all be replaced,” I told her. “You … me. We can’t.”

  She nodded her head slowly; she got what I was saying but had no other response. I kissed her forehead gently before turning back to Miles.

  “So what do we do now?” I asked bluntly. I was anxious to take care of this fucker. I couldn’t handle just sitting around and let him take my life piece by piece. I wanted the bastard gone … and as fast as possible. I guess in my head, I already knew what had to be done. Getting it done was now the million dollar question.

  Miles turned to Amelia. “My sources have discovered that their ring is under your studio. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah,” she answered quietly. “Antonio’s office is in the back.”

  A light bulb went off and I knew why she was so nervous for me to be in the studio yesterday. Business as usual was being conducted right behind that door that she was so afraid to open while I was inside.

  Dammit!

  “But everything is set up in the basement,” she continued.

  “So your studio is just a cover then?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t at first,” she said, her anger building clear as day on her face. “It started out as my birthday present. I loved art. I loved painting, so I thought he was doing something nice for me, and it was … originally,” her voice wavered.

  “Until his Uncle Marty died and he took over?” Miles finished for her.

  She nodded her head. “Yup. That’s when the studio became his c
over.”

  I shook my head. I hated how he manipulated Amelia and made her believe that he was this stellar guy. When it came down to it, nothing came before the mob, and it didn’t matter who they hurt. They didn’t recognize the fucking amazing people like Amelia that they had in their lives. I just didn’t know how anyone couldn’t see Amelia like I did. I couldn’t even imagine taking her dream away from her, though he probably saw it differently—like a win for both of them. She could still run the studio while he used it to cover up his illegal business. Of course, the fucker didn’t see that it wasn’t all hers anymore. He took away her escape and she couldn’t indulge in her passion anymore. It was tainted now. God, I fucking hated him!

  I wrapped my arm around Amelia’s shoulders, pulling her into my side before kissing her forehead. Never would my girl ever feel replaced like that again. Nothing would come before her in my life. She was it. She was my number one.

  She snuggled closer into my side, squeezing my waist with her arms like she knew what I was thinking. I wasn’t going anywhere and the way I felt about her was concrete—cement—nothing would break through that shit. We were solid.

  “From what I’ve been told, that’s the only location business is conducted,” Miles stated, looking at Amelia.

  “The only place I’m aware of. That’s where I always see them.”

  “But they’re trying to take over another group right now, though. Correct?”

  She nodded her head. “Yeah, they’ve been taking trips west a lot lately. There’s a ring in Southern California. It was falling apart.”

  “Like Antonio’s. Therefore, the idea is to join forces to gain more control, to work together and cover more territory,” Miles added.

  “Yeah, sounds like what was going on,” Amelia agreed.

  “He didn’t tell you any of this?” I asked her, confused.

  She shook her head. “No. He never discussed any of that stuff with me. I was never even allowed downstairs. I knew very little, but I knew he had work on the West Coast with another group.”