One Wicked Night

by Avril Ashton

  Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn't open her eyes. “Um.” A pink tongue swept out to wet her lips. “Fifteen mil, give or take a couple bucks."

  Mother. Fuck. He choked on his tongue. “Just so we're clear, you're saying you're worth fifteen million?"

  "Uh-huh.” She nodded. “But I don't get it until I'm thirty."

  He repeated that tidbit to Maysin.

  "When will she turn thirty?” his friend asked.

  "Two months.” Where was Maysin going with this line of questions?

  "And who's the executor of the estate?” Maysin wanted to know.

  Justice posed the question to Myka.

  "My father,” she said.

  Icicles formed on Justice's spine. The next question came from him, but he knew it's what Maysin would've asked next. “Who gets all that money if you don't live to see thirty?"

  Her eyes flew open, terror in their brown depths. “My father."

  Son of a bitch. “Why the hell didn't you tell me this before?” Roger Prentiss had put a hit on his own daughter. How much more fucked up could things possibly get? Now he'd have to kill Myka's father.

  She jerked to a sitting position. “Why would I think my father would personally want me dead?” Her furious expression crumbled bit by bit.

  "Mace, let me hit you back.” He hung up on Maysin's response and pulled Myka close. “I'm sorry, so sorry,” he whispered into her hair as her body shook.

  "He really wants me dead.” Her tears dripped on his bare chest. “My father hates me enough to see me dead."

  "It won't happen,” he vowed. “No one will hurt you."

  She pushed away from him. “I couldn't understand why he never told me he loved me, why he never wanted to be near me.” Tears dripped from her eyes like liquid diamonds, breaking his heart. His eyes burned.

  "Don't cry. I'll fix it, don't cry."

  "How?” she cried. “Can you give me back the time I wasted waiting for him to show up at school functions? Can you erase all the times I dated his friends’ kids because he said it would please him. I would do anything to please him, to see him smile at me the way he smiled at anybody else.” She wiped her nose. “He never smiled at me, never hugged me.” Watery brown eyes stared unseeing at him. “Justice, he never loved me.” Harsh realization echoed in her words, and she crumbled under the weight of it.

  "He doesn't matter, I love you.” He pulled her back into his arms, stretched out with her on top of him. “I love you, Myka. Nothing else matters."

  She wrapped her hands around his neck, buried her face in his chest and cried. Justice didn't know how to console her, so he stayed still, just telling her how much he loved her over and over. He rubbed her back and shoulders, planted kisses in her hair and on her forehead. All while she sobbed.

  There was no way for him to imagine all the fucking shit Roger Prentiss put his daughter through. The twelve years he'd had his parents, they showered him with love and affection. His parents laughed and fought, but they never stayed angry for long. A parent not loving his child—denying his flesh and blood the basics of affection—was wrong on so many levels.

  Add the hit to the mix. Roger wanted Myka dead, all so he could get his grubby little hands on her inheritance. That slimy fuck was as jacked up as they came. Justice owed that bastard a late night visit, SIG in tow.

  Soft snores reached his ears and he lifted Myka's head off his chest. She'd cried herself to sleep, the tearstains on her cheek leaving a map of her heartache. He promised her he'd fix it and he would.

  Laying her head gently on the pillows, he kissed her cheek and rolled off the bed. He pulled the covers up her naked form and walked into the bathroom to get dressed. This visit required some outside help, so he punched in Maysin's number. Time for his friend to work his computer magic, and tell Justice exactly where Roger Prentiss would be in —he peered at his watch—the next thirty minutes.

  When he walked out of the bathroom minutes later dressed in head to toe black, he had Roger's address and a note for Myka in case she woke before he came back. He placed the note next to her head on the pillow, then checked his guns. Time for a one-on-one with his future father-in-law.

  For such a high-profile person, it was relatively easy to pick the lock on Roger's Park Slope townhouse. Justice tiptoed through the dark house and up the stairs to the second floor. Gun at his side, he made his way down the hallway, peering into rooms as he went. He passed a bathroom, and what looked like a spare bedroom before he came upon the senator's bedroom.

  Justice crept inside, gun trained on the bed where Roger lay on his back. He slept in his street clothes with paperwork scattered over his chest and the bed. It looked as if he fell asleep while reading.

  Approaching the bed, Justice pulled the chair from the writing desk next to the bed and sat in it. He leaned over, switching on the bedside lamp before he pressed the barrel of the SIG under the bastard's chin.

  "Wake the fuck up.” Calm and composed. He'd learned most people were more terrified of him that way. It's a fear he banked on, exploited in most instances. This time was no different.

  Roger came awake with a jerk, his sleepy eyes darting back and forth before his gaze settled on Justice. A frown played on the senator's face as he tried to place the face staring back at him. Justice saw the second realization struck. Green eyes widened.

  "You.” Roger struggled to get up on his elbows. “How did you get in?"

  Justice shrugged. “The front door, how else? I'd recommend getting a bodyguard or two, or maybe even a better lock.” He pursed his lips at the man's incredulous expression. “Just a thought."

  "Where's my daughter?” The senator's eyes flitted to the drawer of the writing desk, for the second time.

  With one hand holding the gun, Justice reached behind him and pulled the desk open. His hands closed over cool steel, a familiar feel.

  "Oh, Roger, you bad boy.” He held up the gun. “Do you have a permit for this, Senator?” Raising an eyebrow, Justice scolded him. “I seem to recall you calling for stricter gun control laws."

  Twin spots of color dotted the older man's cheeks. “Where's my daughter?"

  "Do you think you have the right to call her that after all the shit you've put her through?” He leaned over, pressing the gun deeper into the pale flesh. “Do you love her, Roger? That gorgeous woman, who wants nothing but her father's acceptance and approval?"

  "What do you want? Is it money?” Roger raised a hand slowly, pointing it at his jacket hanging off the foot of the bed. “I can get you money,” he pleaded. “Just tell me how much."

  "Is it your money?” Justice asked quietly. “Or is it Myka's? Do you even have money, Senator?"

  "That's a lie.” The man moved to sit up, but Justice cocked the SIG. The bastard froze.

  "Are you calling the woman I love a liar? Are you saying she doesn't stand to come into her inheritance of millions when she turns thirty in a matter of months?” Justice got to his feet and stood over the man looking up at him in terror. “Do you want her to turn thirty, Roger?"

  "Wha-what kind of question is that?” Roger gripped the sheets while his eyes remained glued to Justice's every move.

  "I was hired to kill her.” Justice paid extra attention to the man's facial features as he spoke. Genuine shock sparked in the depths of the senator's eyes.

  "What? Hired by whom?"

  "Dunno, Senator.” Justice shrugged with a nonchalance he didn't feel. “I was hoping you'd be able to shed some light on the matter."

  "But I don't get it. Who would want to hurt Myka?” Roger cried.

  "You mean other than you, who gets everything if she dies before thirty?"

  Roger shook his head. “I didn't put the clause in there. Betty, her mother, did."

  "But you're milking that sucker, aren't you? Why did you try to force her to marry Lawrence?"

  "He was to be my backer, endorse my campaign. But to do that, I had to give him Myka.” The senator looked away.

&n
bsp; "Really? Now you're ashamed? After all the shit you pulled?"

  "I-I needed money and I can't touch the inheritance.” He shook his head, resentment clouding his pale features. “The money just stays there and earns interest year after year, and I can't touch a dime of it."

  "So, what? You got frustrated and put out a hit on your own daughter?"

  "No! I didn't, I swear."

  "You swear?” Justice smirked. “After you tried to sell your own flesh and blood for a senate seat, you swear?” The finger on SIG's trigger twitched, he wanted to shoot the gutless fuck so bad.

  "She's not,” Roger murmured.

  "What?” Justice didn't hide the contempt in his voice. Men like Roger Prentiss shouldn't be allowed to grow old, or take up space alongside good people. He'd remedy that problem tonight.

  "She's not my flesh and blood.” He met Justice's eyes briefly, then turned away again. “She's not my daughter."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * * *

  Justice didn't remember sitting down, but his ass was in the chair so he must have. To his credit the SIG remained pointed at Roger. The man stared at him expectantly, like Justice should be doing something. But what? The bastard had just dropped a fucking bomb.

  "You're not Myka's father?” He forced the words out past dry lips.

  "No, I'm not. Betty was three months pregnant when we married."

  "Now I see why you've never shown her affection, why you treat her like second class citizen.” Justice narrowed his eyes. “Why marry her mother and give Myka your last name if you were only going to shun her?"

  Anger clouded Roger's eyes and reddened his face even more. He moved to sit up and this time Justice allowed it. “I didn't sign up to be a single parent."

  Justice scoffed. “Yeah and you didn't sign up to be broke either. You married Betty Chandler for her money."

  "We had an understanding, Betty and I. In exchange for her money, I would sign the birth certificate giving her child my name."

  "What about the father?” Justice frowned at the selfish prick. He wanted to burst the inflated sense of self Roger had with a fucking bullet. “Didn't he have a say?"

  Roger shook his head vigorously. “He has no idea to this day. He's in Sing-Sing, doing thirty to life for murder."

  "Convenient.” Justice pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed Maysin's number. “Tell me the name of the man you say is Myka's father,” he commanded Roger.

  "Charles Forsythe."

  Maysin answered the phone on the third ring. “What?"

  "I've got a name, Charles Forsythe. I need everything you can find on him, like yesterday."

  "Who is he?’ Maysin asked.

  "According to Roger Prentiss, he's Myka's biological father.” Rubbing his temple, Justice tried to imagine what this news would do to Myka. The pain it would cause her to know Roger intentionally mistreated her because she wasn't his own flesh and blood.

  "Wow. You believe him?"

  "No. That's why I need you to look into it. Go back thirty years and trace the dealings of these three—Prentiss, Forsythe and Betty Chandler."

  "Alright, but no promises.” Maysin hung up.

  Justice leaned back in his chair and met Roger's eyes. “This will kill her, you know. I have to tell Myka you only married her mother for money, and you kept her around for her inheritance."

  "That's not true, I—I care about Myka."

  "Yeah, I can see that. Wouldn't want to see how you treat your enemies.” He got his feet and lowered the weapon. “Well, you live to see another day. At least until I find out if what you said is true.” He backed toward the door. “If you lied to me tonight, there's no place you can hide that I wouldn't find you."

  Justice slipped out the door and headed back to Myka. Thoughts of how to break the news to her occupied his mind the entire drive back to the apartment. This could very well be the blow that she never recovers from. A blow he had to deal to her. What could he do to ease the pain headed her way? How could he soften the impact?

  He shook his head as he rode the elevator to the penthouse. There was no way to spare Myka for the world of hurt headed her way. All he could do was help her deal with it, and he would, as soon as Maysin came up with concrete proof. No way was he blowing Myka's life apart on Roger's word alone.

  In the darkened bedroom, he undressed quickly and removed the untouched note from the pillow. Climbing under the covers, he pulled Myka close. She lay curled up on her side with her back to him. He wrapped a hand around her waist and dipped his head to inhale the scent of her skin.

  His decision was the right one. Until he was sure Roger spoke the truth, he wasn't telling Myka anything. Proof, that's what they needed. What he'd charged Maysin with finding. The woman in his arms needed answers, she needed the truth and he would provide it.

  When they had the facts.

  * * * *

  Myka awoke with Justice's muffled snores in her ear. She grinned as she rolled to her side and stared at him. His dark brows were drawn together, giving the appearance of him frowning in his sleep. Lifting her hand, she smoothed it along his forehead. His gentle breathing bathed her face with warmth.

  He loved her. This amazing, harsh, ruthless man loved her. She couldn't help smiling, giggling. She loved him right back. Who ever thought the one night stand she'd had to ease the sting of her father's manipulations would turn out to be love? And with the man hired by her own father to kill her.

  The thought sobered her. Her father wanted her dead, all so he could have her inheritance. Not once during this crazy mess did she consider Roger was behind the hit on her. More fool her. After all the things he'd said and done throughout the years, she was still blindsided. Still surprised. Last night's revelations had shattered her heart and her hopes of ever having a father who loved her. Who cared.

  Justice's presence eased some of the hurt. His promise to make everything better helped a great deal. There wasn't a doubt in Myka's mind that he would. Her only worry was what he would do to Roger. Her father deserved whatever Justice had in mind, but Myka didn't want Roger's death on his hands. They'd brainstorm a fitting punishment that didn't require bloodshed.

  Justice rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his face. Myka flung the covers off her and swung a leg over him. She pushed all negative vibes to the back—way, way to the back—of her mind. The senator wasn't ruining anything else in her life, he'd done enough damage. In the meantime, her man was lying beside her naked as a jay bird. What was a girl to do, but climb on top of him and ride that delicious cock into oblivion?

  She straddled his hips, trapping his heavy cock between her thighs. Leaning down, Myka licked a nipple then caught the flat bead in her teeth. Slight applied pressure and her man came awake with a moan. His hips lifted off the bed, cock stirring, lengthening.

  "Nice wake up call,” he murmured in a sleepy voice.

  Grinning, she reached back and grasped his cock. She lifted her butt of his thighs, positioned his swollen head to her ready center. “I aim to please.” By slow degrees she took him inside her pussy. Inch by deliciously veined inch. Her walls wrapped around his cock, holding him in a snug grip.

  "Ah, Myka.” His fingers twisted in the sheets as his body jerked. She lowered herself to his chest, nipping at his jaw while her body clenched around him.

  "I want you slow,” she whispered. “Slow and steady.” Digging her toes into the mattress, she ground her pelvis to his. The sweet friction on her clit made her bite her lip. Justice groaned low in his throat. His left arm anchored her to him while the right grabbed her hair and pulled. Damn, just the way she liked it.

  Myka undulated on the tip of his cock. Her nipples grazed his chest, sending sparks of electricity dancing down her spine. Tipping her head forward, she kissed him. He opened his mouth and their tongues met, flicked over each other.

  The hand around her tightened painfully as Justice thrust up into her. The
ir teeth clinked, the fingers in her hair tugged as she squeezed him.

  "Fuck!” His hips sped up, thrusts getting harder and deeper. Myka rotated her hips, felt the tip of him scrape her G-spot. The soft caress triggered her orgasm, sending pulsing waves crashing through her.

  "Shit, shit.” Her nails dug into his shoulders as she rode the climax. Shivers raced through her. She bucked as warm liquid flooded her. Justice's cum.

  With a sigh, she collapsed onto his chest. Releasing her hair, he hugged her to him.

  "I want to wake up like this every morning, with you in my arms,” he said thickly. “I love you."

  Myka's eyes burned, filled as she met his gaze. She brushed a thumb over his bottom lip and he caught it between his teeth. “I love you, too, Justice.” The smile on her face wobbled. Happiness, tinged with pain, warmed her heart.

  "We'll deal with whatever comes next together.” He cupped her cheek with his rough hand. She pressed her face closer to him, his touch soothing all her aches. “We can handle anything together, Myka. Remember that."

  They spent half of the day in bed, pigging out on Chinese. Justice painted her toenails Blood Kiss red, then assisted her in washing her hair. In turn, she straddled him on the toilet seat and used the new pair of clippers he bought to shape up his hair cut. She had absolutely no intention of humping him, but hump him she did. They ended up on the floor of the bathroom, her legs in the air, his face buried in her pussy.

  Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

  A couple times she caught Justice staring at his phone as if willing it to ring, but he said nothing to her, so she shrugged it off. He was probably waiting for Maysin to call with more proof of her father's duplicity. She was glad when they got ready to leave the apartment at nightfall and the call still hadn't come. They could use more quiet days without this fucking hit hanging over their heads. Tonight she'd have dinner with Stefan, and try to project a calm she didn't feel, while Justice ran some errands.

  Maybe tomorrow shit would hit the fan, but at least they had tonight.

  Dinner at Stefan's place consisted of Myka and Stefan only—his partner Christian was out working late. Over pot roast and the cheesecake Myka brought, she told him how she and Justice felt about each other. They giggled like school girls when she recounted their sexcapades, but she was careful not to mention why Justice came to Brooklyn in the first place. She didn't tell Stefan about her father either. Just thinking about it depressed the shit out of her.