Mob Justice

by Morgan Kelley

  In a matter of seconds, he was hard—just like the other night when she’d given him one hell of a blowjob.

  Only now, he wanted more.

  Emma wasn’t giving up. She worked him and didn’t stop for any of his begging.

  Greyson moaned.

  “Emma,” he said, his hands finding her hair. He slowed her down, his body on autopilot.

  Emma didn’t stop. She kept working him until he shook.

  He stared down at her as his erection worked in and out of her mouth.

  “Oh Christ,” he muttered.

  When she set him free, she stared into his eyes.

  “I suggest you get in the back, or security is going to be watching my ass as I ride my husband.”

  “Emma.”

  “IN THE BACK.”

  He stared at her.

  She took his bluff. Emma pulled off her boots and began dropping her pants. When she pulled off her panties, he got that she wasn’t kidding.

  He climbed over the seat and got in the very back of the Navigator.

  Emma followed.

  “It’s hot in here.”

  She unbuttoned her shirt and unzipped the body armor.

  He was forced to stare at the scar, and it terrorized him. Emma felt him losing his erection.

  It was now or never. Emma was fighting for her caveman. She couldn’t lose him to that fear.

  She slid him home.

  “Close your eyes,” she whispered.

  He did as he rested his head back. He felt Emma begin to move.

  “Remember our honeymoon?” she offered.

  “Yes, God! You were so beautiful. I can’t wait to marry you again and have another honeymoon!”

  She rode.

  He moaned.

  Her breasts bounced.

  “Touch me, Greyson. Keep your eyes closed and touch me,” she begged.

  His hands found her breasts, and that familiarity was there. He touched soft skin and the fuller breasts that made him crazy before she was hurt.

  She moaned.

  “I’m going to cum,” she whispered.

  And then she did.

  Greyson opened his eyes and watched in fear, praying her heart didn’t explode or leak.

  It was stupid, but he was terrified.

  When she opened her grass green eyes, after floating up from the orgasm, she was smiling.

  “God! I needed that. Well, since you’re not in the mood to have sex…,” she offered, beginning to climb off his dick.

  He stopped her.

  “You’re really okay?”

  She picked up his hand and placed it over her heart. He felt the steady beat. Then it slowed to its normal rate. All the while, she was simply watching him.

  “See? I’m good.”

  Yeah, he could see that.

  She went to zip up her body armor, and he stopped her. Greyson had to put his faith in his wife. She knew her own body, and she wouldn’t risk Mac. So, he opted to let her lead on this one.

  He’d follow.

  Willingly.

  “Ride me, kitten.”

  She grinned wickedly.

  “Oh, and back to Chris. The lipstick marks on his crotch were OVER the line. I swallowed it for him, but now I’ll punish you for it.”

  And he did.

  Greyson made her ride and ride.

  He held on for as long as he could. He watched her big, beautiful, bouncy breasts, and he enjoyed the way she struggled to make him cum.

  She begged.

  She pleaded.

  And he just tormented her, making her stop so he could force her to have orgasm after orgasm by torturing her clit.

  And in the end, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, only then did he make his kitten finish him off.

  When he finally exploded, a guttural shout of her name, he poured into his wife.

  She rested on him, her body spent.

  Then he gave her a memento of that moment in their ride. He bit her on the neck, leaving a sexy red mark.

  Yeah, and that was the king of all hickeys, marking his wife and proving that the king always got his queen.

  It was a reminder of what they’d shared, and Greyson Croft wanted the world to see it. He wanted every man to know that she was taken, and no one could have her.

  This woman was owned.

  “You’re mine,” he whispered in her ear as she rested against him.

  She didn’t argue.

  Emma knew one thing.

  Her sexy caveman was back, and the fun was about to begin.

  Chapter Ten

  Florist

  W hen they arrived at her mother’s old employer, Poppy read up on the information in the file. Greg Townsend, the owner, had been her mother’s boss. He owned the florist, and he might know something about what had happened to her mother.

  They hoped.

  “She loved it here,” Poppy stated.

  That was the truth.

  Her mother loved flowers, and nothing made her happier than being around them. That was why she was named Poppy, and her sister Daisy.

  “Are you ready?” Dimitri asked, hearing the nerves in her voice. Only, she had to face them.

  They’d do it together.

  “Yeah, I am. I hope we get something. I really want to put their murder to rest. I want to give them justice, so I can finally have peace.”

  He did too.

  For her sake.

  Before he got out, she touched his arm. “We have to cancel any dinner plans you made for tonight. I can’t do it.”

  He didn’t move.

  Instead, his heart skipped.

  “Why?”

  “Dimitri…it’s two in the afternoon, and I’ve eaten enough for three weeks. I will explode. It won’t be pretty.”

  That helped him relax.

  In fact, he laughed.

  “The tiramisu was over the top, huh?”

  “Yes, as was the lobster, all that butter, and the bread. I love bread. It doesn’t love me.”

  “I like feeding you.”

  “Why? So I can’t run away but roll?” she asked.

  He found that amusing.

  “It’s sexy when a woman really eats food and enjoys it. I know what a luxury decent food is, and I enjoy having it.”

  “Oh, I enjoy it, but my ass…”

  He stopped her.

  “I already told you that I love your ass. You don’t see you how I see you.”

  She stared at him like he was crazy.

  “I don’t?”

  “You have these really sexy curves. I want to run my fingers over them.”

  “I have an ass.”

  “Well, I would hope so. That would make sitting awkward.”

  She laughed.

  “I don’t get you.”

  “For your information, Detective, I happen to like women who are curvier. If I had to pick an ass out of a catalog, that one right there,” he said, pointing at hers, “would be my first pick. It’s perfect.”

  “I don’t get you and your family.”

  He shrugged.

  “I can ask them about your ass if you really want me to discuss it. Chris will be more than happy…”

  “You heard about my mother. Why would you want to be with me? You’re Dimitri freaking Gideon. You can have any, or every, woman in Vegas, and Reno too. Why are you here with me?”

  “I like your ass.”

  She laughed.

  He didn’t.

  What she didn’t get was that he wanted her because she made him feel good. He loved when she had tasted her lunch and then, immediately, fed him some.

  It was automatic.

  It was a couple thing.

  Dimitri had never had that connection with anyone, and it made him so very happy.

  When he finished his wine, before their waitress could return, she handed him hers—to share.

  It was intimate.

  As they ate dessert, he fed her, and she had her hand on his thigh. He was Dimit
ri Gideon, but to her, he was just a person. No one ever saw him as one of those.

  He was a weapon.

  He was a killer.

  He was soulless.

  Poppy made him feel alive, and he loved her for that. Yes, he was already crazy about her. She saved him. She told him off. She joked with his family. She fit.

  Now he had to find a way to get her to move into his very chaotic life.

  “Yes, so you’ve said about my ass repeatedly,” Poppy stated. “All I’m asking is no more food today. I really can’t do it. I have food impulse control issues.”

  He understood.

  She’d been in a foster home, like Sam. When they first dropped him around food, he gorged—afraid it would disappear. Dimitri understood what she was saying.

  It was mind over matter for her.

  So, he’d give her that.

  “What if we don’t do food tonight? What if I have something less food-y planned and more date-y?”

  “Are those legit words?”

  He grinned.

  “Yes. Do you dance?”

  “Uh, yeah, like a cat on a hot tin roof.”

  He grinned.

  “Sexy. Do you howl too? I do like a woman who howls like some animal.”

  “You’re too much, but yes, I’ll do something less food-y and more date-y.”

  “Deal, babochka.”

  He was a handful, and she was beginning to believe that he was well aware of that too.

  She snorted and hopped out.

  As soon as he reached her side, Poppy was done messing around, and she was back in Detective Wayne mode.

  The switch was flipped.

  Dimitri knew it was very common. He’d seen Emma do it all the time. By the time they crossed the parking lot and to the shop, she was a cop.

  It was sexy.

  As they headed inside, Dimitri looked around. There were lots of flowers and an older man behind the counter.

  “Excuse me,” she called.

  “Yes?” he inquired. “Are you looking for flowers?” he asked, looking up.

  Then he gasped.

  “Eloise.”

  “No, I’m Detective Wayne,” she said, showing him her badge. “I am here about the murder of Eloise Wayne, my mother. Maybe you can help me.”

  He stood up.

  He had to be about sixty.

  “You’re Poppy. You look just like her. She had the same long hair.”

  “Yes, I recall. What I don’t recall is what happened to her. Someone killed her, and we’re working a cold case.”

  He sat and closed his mouth.

  “I don’t recall.”

  Dimitri listened.

  “Was someone bothering my mother?” she asked, trying to get anything she could out of the man.

  “I don’t recall,” he said again, much to Poppy’s displeasure.

  “Was she dating anyone?”

  “I don’t recall. It was a while ago.”

  Poppy was getting nowhere.

  Dimitri headed toward the man. He pulled out his wallet and placed it on the counter.

  Poppy watched him.

  Then he took out his gun and placed that beside it.

  “Here’s your choice,” he said, the accent out. “You talk and get paid, or you don’t talk, and I shoot you between the eyes.”

  He looked skeptical.

  He pulled a silencer out.

  Even Poppy stared.

  Jesus.

  That was…something.

  The man started talking like he was a truck-sized hole in a dam.

  “She was dating a few guys. Eloise liked to be surrounded by men. The more they told her she was pretty, the happier she was.”

  “Did anyone bother her?” Poppy asked, trying again to get the answers she needed.

  “I didn’t get into her business, but there were two names she brought up all the time when she was talking about the men who were in her life.”

  “Who?”

  “Brent and Lewis. No last names. One came and picked her up after work once.”

  “Who?”

  “Brent.”

  Poppy made notes.

  It was better than nothing.

  “Thank you,” she stated.

  Dimitri pulled out some money and paid the man. He tucked the gun and silencer into his pocket.

  “I left the names outside in the ride,” Dimitri stated. “My bad.”

  That was fine.

  She’d head out.

  “Thank you for your help,” she offered the florist. Then, Poppy headed out.

  Dimitri pulled out a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the man.

  “Give me a long stem rose,” he said.

  The man handed it to him.

  “Thank you,” Dimitri said, heading outside after Poppy. “I’d keep this little visit to yourself, or I’ll be back. You wouldn’t want me popping out and putting a bullet in your brain, now would you?”

  The man rapidly shook his head.

  Dimitri touched his finger to his lips in a ‘hushing’ motion.

  “Good answer.”

  Then he was gone.

  Outside, when he saw her, Poppy was not that far away as she looked at the file on the hood of the car.

  As Dimitri stepped off the curb, he heard the gun of the engine. It was out of place in the parking lot. He turned, just in time, to see a car barreling through the parking lot and right at him.

  Well, shit.

  Before he could move, he felt the hit as Poppy reached him and shoved him out of the way. Dimitri hit the ground and watched as Poppy was in the path of the car.

  He went to get up.

  Only he knew it was too damn late.

  Poppy saved him, but at what cost?

  Her life.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  He wanted to kill the man so damn bad. When he saw him coming out with the flower for her, he knew he had to end him.

  The second he stepped off the curb, he gunned the engine and took his foot off the brake.

  He hauled ass right at him.

  Then he saw her move.

  She shoved him out of the way, and there was no possible way he could miss her.

  He was about to kill her.

  And there was nothing he could do about it.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Dimitri was up, but he’d never get to her soon enough. Just as he was about to jump into the path of the car, he watched someone slam into Poppy and take her down.

  Dimitri dove at her, trying to stop her fall.

  He caught her as Ilan Hyde rolled, pulled his gun, and fired five shots at the back window of the car.

  It sped off around a corner.

  Poppy opened her eyes and saw Dimitri staring down at her. She thought she was dead.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, touching her cheek with his big, warm palm.

  “I’m okay, what hit me? It felt like a truck.”

  “One of my security guys.”

  Oh, Dimitri was pissed.

  She’d nearly been flattened. It looked like Ilan was getting one hell of a bonus. He’d saved his woman.

  “Mr. Gideon, those gunshots will bring the cops. You had better get Miss Wayne out of here ASAP.”

  “I am a cop,” she said, as she was pulled to her feet.

  “Yeah, seen with me,” he offered. “How do you think that’s going to go?” he asked as a crowd had already begun to form around them.

  He had a point.

  Dimitri tucked her into the vehicle.

  “Ilan, thank you,” Dimitri stated.

  He saluted and spoke with his Russian accent.

  “Just doing my job, sir,” he said, hopping into his own ride to escape the mess that was coming.

  Dimitri got them out of there.

  “How’s your arm?” she asked. “Did I land on it?” she asked.

  He lost it.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he aske
d, glancing over at her. “You could have been killed saving me! Are you out of your damn mind?”

  She stared at him.

  Was he yelling at her?

  Was he pissed that she’d saved him from being a pancake on the hood of some maniac’s car?

  Oh, it was on.

  Her temper flared too.

  “Yeah, to save you from being killed, Mr. Gideon!”

  He sputtered.

  “I don’t need you to save me.”

  She pointed at his arm.

  “Really, Romeo? Really? Can you sit there and say that to me? Have you lost memory of that week?”

  He nearly lost it.

  “Romeo was Italian. I am NOT Italian. I am anything but Italian!”

  She laughed.

  “That’s all you got?” she asked. “Well, I didn’t see that one coming, Rasputin.”

  He tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy. If he didn’t, he risked scaring the girl. That didn’t sit well with him.

  “That’s better. At least he was Russian!”

  She snorted.

  “Seriously, how’s your arm?”

  “Not nearly as sore as I am—sore as in pissed, not in pain. I bought you a rose, and I landed on it.”

  She tried not to laugh.

  “I’m being serious.”

  “It was a really pretty rose,” she offered, “and I would have really liked it too.”

  He calmed down.

  “Don’t save me.”

  “Oh, well, okay. Next time, I’ll let someone smear your sexy face all over the hood of a car. Why the fuck not?”

  “You think my face is sexy?” he asked.

  She laughed.

  “Until you scowl. Like now. Then it makes me laugh. Put it away, Dimitri. You’re not scary.”

  He was calming down.

  His heart had been pounding a million miles a minute.

  She’d almost been smooshed by a car. First, that horrified him because she was his. Secondly, because he hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been focused on only her. Thankfully, Ilan had dropped Chris off and made it back to following them.

  “That had to be your merry attacker,” he stated, deciding to not focus on what could have been.

  “I didn’t get a good look at the car. I was too focused on a Russian hood ornament.”