Torque, The Redline Series #2
By Skye Callahan
Copyright © Skye Callahan, 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events and locations is entirely coincidental.
Published: Skye Callahan
July 15, 2015
United States of America
Cover art by Skye Callahan
Stock Images used acquired from Depositphotos: Intimate moments @ cokacoka; Flamy symbol
@ choreograph
Chapter breaks: Tire track splash@ longquattro
A note from Skye
If you’re looking for rainbows, butterflies, and happy endings coated in chocolate and caramel, turn back now!
This is a work of serial fiction, so it will be released in distinct parts with no resolute ending until the end of the series. This style of releasing literature has been around since the seventeenth century, and when I began writing The Redline Series, I knew it would be perfectly suited to this structure.
At the end of this book, you won’t find a happy ending and for many readers, that’s part of the enjoyment.
This book also contains adult language, scenes, and situations including dubious consent.
This series is in memory of…
Bueller & Cameron
RIP
my furry best friends
Prologue
I never expected life to be easy, but this….
It’s no dream
It’s no nightmare.
It’s the reality of a girl who was determined to make it on her own.
I shot for the moon, got fucked by gravity, and landed in the underworld of the city. Caught between two men—brothers—both equally handsome as they are dangerous. Sex, drugs, and alcohol are the only recognized currencies. Stealing and deceit aren’t just a way of life—they’re a survival skill. A requirement to make it through the next night alive.
People say that looks can be deceiving, but what they fail to realize is that often, even the truth is deceiving.
Devlin promised to help.
Colt promised the truth.
The only thing they really want is to see me suffer—each in his own demented way.
Chapter 1
With Aubrey out of my hair and in the kitchen cooking—hopefully that was all she planned on—I covered my face with my arm, letting my exhausted body sink back into the couch.
I couldn’t sleep. All night. I couldn’t sleep.
The damn heroin was all I could think about. Even with Aubrey in my bedroom. Even after pinning her body to my bed and fucking her until she could barely hold her head up.
Heroin. Devlin. Heron. Trying to convince Wilson to play along. Heroin.
Screwing the fuck out of Aubrey.
Heroin.
My next hit.
My next high.
Fisting my hands, I pressed them into the cushion beneath me. I wouldn’t let it take me again. Not now.
Now, I had too much to do. Too much to look forward to. I had a girl to keep me entertained. A different kind of high. The fear and indecision in her eyes. The rush of adrenaline through my veins. The kind of high that wouldn’t get me killed.
Not so easily, anyway.
It wasn’t even that I valued life so much anymore. Or feared death. The reaper was always staring over my shoulder at everything I did—just waiting for his opportunity.
He’d taken my mother.
For all I knew he’d taken my father too.
Not that dipshit bastard who’d stepped into my father’s place though. Oh no, even the reaper was afraid of Merc. Devlin’s lord and master, the origin of his twisted DNA.
Half of it, really. But that half was lethal enough to taint the other fifty percent with pinpoint accuracy. Nothing good was ever left behind after Merc got involved.
No, the reaper hadn’t taken him yet. Hell, the reaper was probably in that little red book of gullible yaps who owed the man. It was possible the reaper’s name was right above mine and he’d never get a shot at the man I was forced to call my step-father.
I scrubbed my hands over my face. Every part of my body still felt detached even though the drugs had faded from my system. I was too tired. My own mind was turning against me and sending me down a never-ending trail of regrets, pain, and the multitude of things I could never change.
Aubrey’s quiet voice carried out of the kitchen. Likely talking on her phone. That was fast. I tuned in on her hushed words and went over the logical reasons for fixing and returning her damn phone again.
First, keeping anyone who might have noticed her disappearance off my tail.
Well… that was it really. The only perk—aside from the possibility that it might keep her occupied and talking to me less. And, fixing it had also given me the opportunity to take a leisurely stroll through her messages and contacts before giving it back. Less than a dozen entries in her address book. A few unreturned calls—all local numbers and a few nondescript, sporadic conversations with someone named Aiden.
I suspected that most of her calls and messages had been recently deleted since nothing went back more than two weeks. Not many names, a few local businesses—pizza, taxies, and the usual services. And no indication of anyone who might be close family. Actually, there were no indication of any close relationships at all.
Devlin knew when he’d found a perfect mark. And that perfect mark was causing a ruckus in my kitchen. Isabella perked up in her chair, staring toward the kitchen doorway and cocking her head.
She hadn’t been fed yet this morning either, and she definitely wasn’t used to strange women pattering around the house. I had a special place for those meetings. I didn’t bring them home, and seldom even brought them to the apartment. Women and me were best kept separate, especially considering how nosey they could get. I didn’t need them sticking their noses in my work. Or my personal life—what there was of it.
It had been thirty-six hours since I had made the decision to bring Aubrey to my apartment, nearly twenty since I offered her the deal. Despite the fact that I had practically no ground to stand on and no real plan.
This wasn’t me.
This wasn’t my game.
Why was it so tempting this time?
I needed something new. Something dangerous and forbidden. I couldn’t resist the temptation to take some semblance of control. That was Devlin’s game… big talk. Big promises.
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
I sat up and stretched my back, drawing Isabella’s attention by clucking my tongue. She put her ears back and flopped her tail against the chair arm, anxiously awaiting breakfast. Inside that giant Saint Bernard’s mind, she probably figured she should be the only female in my life. Granted she was the only one I trusted. I patted my leg and she jumped down, trotted to my side and nudged my hand with her nose until I scratched behind her ears.
At least she couldn’t ask me what the hell I was thinking. She n
ever bombarded me with questions, just stayed quietly near as I did whatever I needed to do. Even if sometimes she gave me that look that said she knew I was up to no good. I paid it no mind. Of course, she was often needy in her own little ways, but those were forgivable offences for being an unquestioning companion.
I rose, and she trotted after me into the kitchen.
Aubrey stood over the stove, bludgeoning what I guessed were once scrambled eggs while another pan sizzled with sausage patties.
She didn’t even look up, so I didn’t acknowledge her either. I was perfectly fine with us ignoring each other until I wanted her attention again.
I poured out a bowl of food for Isabella—after two years, the shock of how much a Saint Bernard could digest in a day still hadn’t wore off—and she dove in, nose first, chowing down while I refilled her water bowl. A dainty eater, she had never been.
Aubrey continued on as if we weren’t there.
“You’re good at ignoring your problems.” I said, cupping a feel of her ass.
“You want burnt eggs?” she asked sharply, pressing me away with the back of her shoulder.
“Wasn’t aware they took that much concentration, but I guess if you’re looking for an excuse—” I grabbed her hips, and she elbowed me in the side, then swung the spatula at my face.
Ducking her attack, I grabbed her wrist and swung her around, pinning her against the counter near the stove. “That’s no way to thank me for fixing your phone.”
I dipped my head toward her neck, but she raised her shoulder to block me.
“Let me finish cooking breakfast.” She pushed each word through clenched teeth. “Take back the damn phone if it makes you feel better.”
“What do I want with a phone?” I stared down at her pouty face, and felt a rush of heat down my back. “I can’t sink my cock into a phone.”
She grimaced and tried to shove me back again, pressing her body against the cabinet for leverage.
Isabella growled, crouching next to us and barking. Aubrey froze, her eyes darting to the dog, then back to me. I stepped away, so Isabella sat down, still wary and watching us both.
I moved toward Aubrey again, and Isabella growled, jumping between us and raising up on her hind legs until she was nearly as tall as me.
“Whose fucking side are you on?” I held out my arm and Isabella grabbed ahold with her front paws. Using my arm for balance, but barely putting an ounce of her weight against it. She stared me straight in the eye, wagging her tail.
Damn dog. Not even an animal should get to me the way she did.
While I was occupied, Aubrey slid past and tended to the food, moving both pans to cool burners and turning off the stove. I pulled my arm away from Isabella and she dropped to the floor and trotted toward the back door to be let out. Apparently she was either convinced we’d both behave ourselves, or she didn’t want to see what was coming up next. She was also a smart dog.
“Breakfast,” Aubrey muttered as I returned from letting Isabella outside.
“Who were you talking to before I came in?”
She slammed two plates onto the counter and tossed sausage and eggs on both. “Thought you didn’t care.”
I crossed my arms, watching her jerk open then slam the same drawer closed, looking for silverware. “I’m just wondering who put you in such a mood.”
Aubrey grabbed one of the plates, spun around and pressed the edge into my chest. “You.”
“No.” I took both plates and sat them back on the counter. Then, I grabbed her before she could react and flipped her around so she landed on her stomach on top of the table. She squirmed and kicked at my shins until I knocked her legs out from under her and twisted her arms behind her back. With every jerk and subtle movement of struggle, her ass rubbed against my cock. Tempting. Arousing.
Even her shallow breath rocked her body against mine. Her whole damn body would be mine.
I leaned forward pressing my front to her back. “I seem to remember seeing you in this position before, but I wasn’t the one who put you there, was I?” I whispered the reminder in her ear, but she didn’t answer. Her jaw pulsed, and she stared across the room.
“Do you remember?” I asked with a thick rumble to my voice, warning her to answer.
She closed her eyes. Her lips were tense, pursed with anger despite the fact she was helpless to act on it. “Some.”
“And do you remember why you’re not there?”
“Difficult not to.” Her tone dripped with scathing annoyance.
I wrenched her arm until she grunted. “Then, answer me when I ask you a damn question.”
“It was just an old friend, pissed because I hadn’t been answering messages.” The pain drove some of the tense anger out of her voice, and replaced it with a tight, high-pitched squeak.
“Aiden?” I guessed.
Her muscles contracted under me, answering my question.
“An ex?”
“No.” She groaned with her answer, as she adjusted minutely against the pain of her twisted arms.
“Didn’t think so. Messages didn’t seem very ex-like.”
Her eyes widened, and she twisted, trying to look back at me.
“Of course I went through everything before I gave your phone back. I was rather surprised there were no messages from Devlin.”
“I delete them,” she said quickly.
I didn’t blame her—it wasn’t like she could ever use anything he sent against him. Devlin was far too smart for that. “But I did notice you have him in your phone as Douche Canoe. I give you props for that one.”
“Thanks,” she said flatly. “Are we going to eat now?”
I bit into the flesh at the base of her neck and she squealed, kicking out her legs. In her panic, she bashed her knee into the table leg, grunted, then stilled again.
“If you left the pain to me, you’d end up far less injured.” I trapped her wrists with one hand, then pushed the long baggy shirt that she’d borrowed from my dresser up her back.
She jerked again, just enough for me to pin her legs apart and slip my hand down her pants—also borrowed and far too large. She gasped, then tightened her jaw as my hand slid around her hips and pressed between her legs. She tried to squeeze them together, but my fingers had already found her wet hole and slid inside.
“Full of surprises, aren’t you?” I pressed my lips to the back of her ear. “All wet and ready, and all I had to do was pin you to a table. Maybe you would have enjoyed Devlin.” I knew she wouldn’t have, she was all mine. No one truly enjoyed Devlin, unless of course they were high out of their minds or tripping to get money and another high.
“Jackass,” she muttered.
I jammed my fingers inside her, stretching her tight hole until she gasped and jerked. “That all you have with my fingers burrowed in your hot pussy?”
She pressed her forehead into the table while my thumb circled her clit, and I continued finger fucking her. She could try to hide it, but the growing wetness, and her erratic breaths told me only one thing. “It won’t be long before you’re begging for it.”
Begging through the tension and anguish for me to finally get her off.
“No,” she grunted against the next thrust, tightening around my fingers.
“Really? Because everything about your body says something very different.”
“Stop.” Even her voice betrayed her arousal—mixing it with anger and humiliation—the perfect cocktail for my depraved mind. “I want you to stop.”
“You want me to stop teasing, and slam my cock into you?” I rubbed against her ass.
“No, I just want breakfast.” Her tone was breathy and low, a teasing symphony to my arousal.
I released her arms and grabbed a fist-full of hair, yanking her upright and pulling my hand out of her borrowed pajama pants. “You want to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Then, open your mouth.” I pressed my wet fingers to her mouth, and she jerked against my hold, shaking h
er head. I pulled her head back and down until she curved backward like a taught bow.
“Open your mouth, or I’ll stretch you across the table and fuck you until you’re a quivering mess with no interest in eggs or sausage. I think option two sounds amusing.” I yanked harder. “What do you think?”
She glared at me, but opened her mouth. I shoved my fingers in until she gagged. She jerked and squirmed, but to no avail.
“Suck,” I said, taking in her erratic breaths, wide eyes, and hard, deadly stare.
She closed her lips around my fingers and sucked, helpless while I finger-fucked her pink lips. Slowly in and out, wet with her saliva mixed with her own sweet sex juices. Next time, I’d be the one tasting her.
Shades of crimson dotted her neck and cheeks by the time I pulled my fingers away with a slick plop and let go of her hair, shoving her breakfast plate into her hands while she righted herself.
Chapter 2
I felt like a balloon released into a wind storm. I couldn’t feel the ground under my feet and I didn’t even know what direction to look in to find it. I sat my plate on the table and dropped into the nearest chair.
Devlin had taken me in, then betrayed me, but that was nothing compared to the betrayal of my own body. I was sore. Already hurting from Colt’s assault the night before, but when he put his hands on me again…. When I knew what was coming. Feared what was coming. My body sided with him.
A fork clattered against my plate, then Colt sat down across from me.
“You wanted to eat, so eat,” he gestured at me, then scooped up a fork full of his own eggs like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of egg, imagining it was Colt. Then, I shoved it into my mouth. They were no longer hot, but I didn’t really care. I ate to fill my stomach simply because I didn’t want to listen to it groan, but I was bitter about every bite and the thought that it nourished the very body that not even ten minutes earlier threw me at the mercy of my enemy.
Torque Page 1
