by Dee Garcia
Was that him?
“On your right. The stairs,” Vic commented softly in my ear. “Go, I’ll watch these guys down here.”
My gaze followed his directions, then up the zigzag trail of the rusty stairs.
Perfect.
“You guys remember the plan?” I asked them both, taking one last look around the first floor.
“Yup,” they answered.
“On my mark only… Cover me,” I ordered Roscoe, holstering one firearm at the small of my back as I sprung into action and hustled up the steps. The iron floor clanked beneath my heeled boots, growing louder and louder as I zeroed in on the door. Each step pumped in time with my heart.
“As you were!” Vic barked powerfully. “C’mon, nothing to see here!”
I heard, rather than saw them all scramble back to work just as I curled my hand around the cool knob.
This was it.
The moment I’d been waiting for.
And it turned out to be nothing like I expected…
Bursting into the office fit my vision perfectly. Falling dead in my tracks, however, did not.
My breath caught as my feet rooted themselves to the ground. This man, Phantom or not, he was...me. Only in male form.
A handsomely grim mug.
Intense eyes.
Hard lines to his jaw.
Almost every plane of skin tattooed in entirety, or at least it appeared that way beneath the all-black suit that fit him like a second skin. Even his face was tattooed. Two stood out most; a spider crawling down one side and the word compel scripted over his eyebrow, almost in the same spot I carried one of my own. I felt like I was looking into some weird mirror from an alternate universe and was completely taken aback at how strikingly good-looking he was.
“Take a picture, pigeon, it’ll last longer,” he mused, a deviously cocky smirk playing on one corner of his mouth.
That word, pigeon, and the amused fashion in which he’d spoken to me—with an accent like mine nonetheless—both shook me to my core, and yet rekindled my initial purpose for being here.
Fire rushed through my veins as I narrowed my eyes and started for his desk with determined strides. “First and last time you call me pigeon. I’m not a fucking bird.”
The handsome man chuckled, a dark, sexy rumble in his chest, and lazily reclined into his seat, crossing his arms behind his head. “On the contrary, Miss Mercier, you are quite the little bird. Not at all what I was expecting the Queen of Miami to look like.”
It is him.
“And what were you expecting?” I asked sarcastically, trying my hardest to seem as unaffected as possible.
“I don’t know…maybe some class?” His smirk spread further at the offended expression that fell across my face.
Oh hell no.
I could’ve killed him, right then and there, simply for being such a fool. But because I was so intent on finding out who he was, what he wanted, and how the hell he knew who I was, I swallowed his words down, the gun in my grasp burning my palm.
Wasn’t lost on me he had me bouncing from one emotion to the next in nanoseconds.
“I’m going to let that slide this time seeing as we have more important things to discuss than your low blow tactics. How’s that for some class?” I tossed back.
My answer was a sinister grin. Nothing less, nothing more. And it only served to irk me further. He wasn’t fazed. Not remotely.
“Who the hell are you?” I blurted out angrily, stopping at the foot of his space, my fingers twitching on the trigger.
Icy blue eyes dropped to my 9mm for a split-second before slithering up to my face. He just stared at me, studying me closely. That was hard enough in itself, but I wasn’t at all prepared to catch his tongue peek out and swipe along his bottom lip. And I sure as hell wasn’t prepared to feel it everywhere either.
“Roman. Roman King,” he purred, breaking through the overwhelming haze. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
K for King… Roman King…
Something about his name made my stomach flip wildly.
What the fuck is happening to me right now?
“Can’t say I feel the same,” I barely managed, shocked at my body’s reaction to toward this man.
“Let’s see if we can change your mind then, yeah? I did agree to a chat after all. What is it you’d like to discuss, Miss Mercier? Tell me everything.”
“Or we can just cut to the chase.” I leaned onto his desk. “I believe your time in Miami has come to an end, Mr. King.”
“Has it now?” He questioned on a chuckle, yet again way too amused for my liking.
“Indeed it has.” I swallowed as his scent hit me. Mahogany…and teakwood, with the subtle hint of some mouthwatering cologne. “I might’ve considered letting you accumulate the odd client here and there, because everyone has to make a living, but you decided to fuck with me—not once, but twice. I’m not very pleased about that.”
Roman shrugged, one-hundred percent unaffected by the bite in my tone. “You have what I want,” he explained, inching forward closer to me.
I had to force myself in place. “And that would be?”
“Everything.” He grinned, cocking his head to one side, wayward strands of his dark coiffed hair falling in his face.
Another swallow. “Define everything,” I demanded.
“Money, power, respect. You seem to have it all, and I want it.”
“But why me?” Why choose to screw with me?”
“Because you’re an easy target, love. Women are too emotional, and emotions elicit vulnerability. See where I’m going with this?”
He was absolutely right, and that right there was the tipping point for me. I hated that he was right. Women were vulnerable creatures, especially women who’d survived the deepest, darkest parts of hell.
Women like me.
“So why not just come forward and state your terms? Why was any of this necessary?” I asked, wanting to focus on anything but how right he was.
“Because I knew you’d never agree to anything my assistant offered you.”
“Yeah, you know why? Because I don’t negotiate with messengers. You want to tread my streets, you come to me, not send your minions to sway me to your liking. And you most certainly don’t take out my people either. What you did was wage a war, Mr. King, and let me tell you, you picked a fight with the wrong woman.”
“Ooohhh,” he cooed in mock horror. “Am I supposed to be afraid?”
“You should be,” I warned.
Roman laughed softly. “I’ll make a mental note for next time.”
“There won’t be a next time. You need to get the fuck out of here if you know what’s good for you.”
“Not going anywhere, pigeon. Get used to seeing this mug a lot, since you don’t want to play nice and share. All that can change, though. Just say the words and I’ll be out of your hair,” he said, bringing a hand of ringed fingers up to twirl an emerald strand around a digit.
I stilled at his unexpected touch, all but holding my breath as I eyed the ink adorning his skin. The words etched on that curve between his thumb and forefinger called out to me most.
Your throat here.
I almost whimpered aloud at the visual his tattoo offered. Heaven help me. “Nothing personal, King, but I don’t share with anyone,” I murmured, inhaling a shaky breath.
The air, thick and heavy around us, drowned out the conversation in entirety. He was just watching me again and I couldn’t stop myself from staring back either, completely hypnotized by the glow of glacial blues.
“And that right there will be what ends your reign,” he whispered, dropping his gaze to my lips…and mine to his, too. “Just remember we had this conversation when your throne goes up in flames. Remember you could have spared yourself imminent doom, Lux.”
The way he purred my name, how his tongue caressed it, dotted my skin with dozens of goose pimples, those small, thin baby hairs at the nape of my neck rising at
attention. Still, I held my head high, reminding myself to breathe. “If anyone should be worried about imminent doom, it’s you. I wasn’t kidding, Roman. I’m not the woman to mess with.”
“Do your worst,” he challenged, like he still didn’t understand—or believe—the gravity of my words.
Suddenly, I was all for feeding into his childish little game. He truly wanted to war with me, then a war we would have. It was on without question.
“You can count on it,” I promised him, pushing off his desk and sauntering toward Roscoe by the doors. “Oh, and Roman?” The question came from over my shoulder.
“Hmmm?”
“Tag, you’re it,” I purred, snapping my fingers at Roscoe as I slipped past him and started down the way I came.
And just as I was pushing out of the distillery into another humid Miami night, Vic and Roscoe lit the place up without mercy, the rapid firing of their rifles sounding like fireworks on the fourth of July.
♫ Superman - Eminen ♫
I fucking loved when Willow sucked my cock.
She did it with such gusto, always so eager to please me. And lately, that’s all I’d allowed myself to do with her. She’d gotten too whiny. Too clingy.
The girl clearly wanted more, and unfortunately for her, I didn’t do more.
More was fucking bullshit.
But, apparently, debasing her three times a week automatically called for such ridiculousness, thus rendering her an instantaneous downgrade. I refused to put my dick inside her used cunt anymore.
Hell no. Wasn’t doing it.
Still needed something to take the edge off though, and her mouth did the job well.
Without complaint I should add.
Willow wanted me too much to protest about what she could or couldn’t have. In her mind, sucking me off was better than nothing at all. I could call her at three in the morning and she’d answer. Didn’t matter if she was dead asleep. The girl would drive across town, attend to my needs, and take her ass back home with her pretty little clit throbbing in need if it meant having me to herself for half an hour.
So, after a shit week that consisted of Lux barking down my neck about Phantom at every turn, I went out for a few hard drinks with the boys, then came straight home and gave my little pet a ring. As expected, she answered promptly, and within thirty minutes, she was knocking at my door.
In nothing but a robe.
Had her on her knees in my office—completely naked—shortly after that.
Sprawled out in my chair, I let Willow work her magic between my spread legs. Stress was melting away in waves and I was about three pumps away from nutting down her throat. Eyes downcast, she worked the base of my cock with her hand while her tongue swirled around the head over and over again. Every few seconds or so, a content little moan would escape her lips.
Loved that, too.
That sexy little sound would vibrate from tip to base, enhancing her ministrations in tenfold. It felt so damn good.
Another moan rattled down my length then. Teeth grit, I glanced down at her, and it was then I realized she was playing with herself, too, rubbing her clit with soft strokes.
“God-fucking-damn,” I gritted out, thrusting a hand into her hair for leverage. Scooting closer to the edge of my seat, I forced my cock further down her throat and held her there, suffocating her, gagging her.
It was glorious.
I could feel her throat stretching and shrinking around me.
She was wailing about for air by the time I let up. But I allowed her only a few mere breaths before I started face-fucking her without mercy. Stares entwined, I didn’t hold back, pummeling harder and harder the more her eyes watered around each gag.
“Such a good little whore,” I cooed, gripping her hair tighter. “You love this fucking cock, don’t you?”
Willow couldn’t nod from the strength of my hold, but I heard the hum of approval loud and clear, saw the answer flickering in her flooded green eyes.
Yes, sir, they said. Use me. Own me.
That sense of prolific power tipped me over the edge. Growling, I struck my palm across her cheek and held her down on my dick as I came violently, hot and thick. Her moans prolonged my climax, milking my balls for every last drop. Even when the spurts ceased, she kept at it, licking me clean with a devious smile on her face. Willow was a greedy little thing and I’d have relished it longer if my damn phone hadn’t started vibrating somewhere on my desk.
“Fuck!” I hissed, pulling myself free from her mouth,
Rolling back a few feet, I glazed over the illuminated screen as I tucked my cock into my pants. The name displayed clear as day tripped me up for a second.
What the hell does she want now?
“Finish yourself,” I ordered Willow, snatching my phone off the desk. “Then show yourself out. I’ve gotta take this.”
I didn’t have to look back to see the disappointment now etched on her face. I could feel it as I stalked to the door and rushed out into the hallway.
Not that I cared. She had no respect for herself, so why should I or anyone else?
“Moxie,” I answered, as I ambled down the dim corridor en route to the back terrace.
“Must you call me that every time, Victor?” she growled, her Brit accent thicker than I remembered.
A plethora of music and laughter blared behind her as though she were in a club.
“It’s a term of endearment and you know it.”
“Mhmm,” she hummed skeptically.
“It is,” I chuckled.
“I’m sure. In any case, I have to make this short. Just checking in to see how things are going…”
Of course.
I should’ve known. She couldn’t’ve just waited until I called her, right? Always so impatient.
“They’re...going,” I said, stepping out into the muggy night through the large sliding glass door.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means they’re just getting started.”
The little bitch sighed deeply, the sound equally aggravated as it was displeased. “And why is that?” she questioned.
“Because it just is. These things take time.”
“I’ve wasted enough time,” she gritted out, just as I dropped into one of the loungers near the infinity pool.
I could imagine her pretty face as she said that. Could see it so clearly it’s like she was sitting right in front of me.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re going to have to wait a little longer. Relax, love, I got this, and you’ll get what you want at the end of it all,” I assured her, relaxing in my seat.
“Get it done, Vic, soon, or I’m coming for you, too,” she threatened, and while I knew she was entirely serious, I wasn’t the least bit concerned.
Everything was going according to plan thus far, and unless Rome somehow managed to fuck it up, I didn’t foresee there being issues in the future.
Lux would go down, and Rome would follow.
My lips quirked at the visual that all presented. “That won’t be necessary. You have my word.”
“I’m counting on it,” she concluded, mumbling something I couldn’t make out to whoever she was with. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, the pub’s closing up. Expect a call from me in a few weeks time.”
Wonderful, I thought to myself. Another follow up from her evil ass.
“Noted,” I conceded.
“Good night, Victor.”
“Good night, Liza.”
♫ Kill Everyone - Hollywood Undead ♫
I finally understood why Vic hadn’t given me anything other than the bare minimum on Lux. I understood it loud and fucking clear.
The motherfucker was sneaky. He knew damn well if I’d gotten even the slightest hint she looked like that, I would’ve washed my hands of it all from the get-go and left him to handle this vendetta on his own.
In retrospect, I probably should’ve put two and two together based on what little I did know,
but it hadn’t crossed my mind this could even be a possibility.
I mean, what were the chances?
One in a million, that’s what and, apparently, the world had tipped on its axis or some shit because this was that one.
It’d been a few short days since Lux stormed into my office and I was still in utter shock. Shocked to my goddamn core is more like it.
She looked so much like Liza.
So. Bloody. Much.
Not quite identical, but if someone told me they were related, I’d have believed them without question. From the blue eyes to those plush lips, to the defined lines of her gorgeous face and all the tats. Down to the slim physique and style, too.
It was simply uncanny.
I might’ve appeared calm and collected as I caught my first glimpse of her, but on the inside, I was completely taken aback. A bit creeped out, too, if I’m being honest.
I was so drawn to it, though.
So drawn to her and the challenge she presented.
And it had nothing to do with her appearance.
She was just this…force. This unstoppable, alluring, intriguing force, and I wanted to see more, so much more. Wanted to see how hot I could make her, just how far I could push her before she snapped like a twig.
The possibilities were endless, and what got me most was knowing she felt the same, too.
I could laugh remembering how she tried to hide it.
To deny it.
Her entire performance was quite possibly the most…I can’t believe I’m about to say this—adorable thing I’d ever seen in my life.
So adorable I gave her an A plus for effort.
But I could see right through her wicked little armor, clocked onto everything she didn’t want me to see; the unintentional seductive lilt of her body language, the lustful fire in her eyes, the throaty rasp to her voice.
Even those dick-twitching little gasps.
I caught them all.
The attraction was instantaneous—on both our parts—and while I knew this frame of mind could lead to dangerous destinations, I was going to use it to my advantage. I’d build her up, play on her crazy with our twisted little game of cat and mouse until she broke…and then I’d build her up again, feed her desires, and slither my way into every last part of her being before shattering her from the inside out.
