He's a Brute (Tough Love Book 1)

by Chloe Liese

  He lifted my leg and I knew what was coming. I got wetter, my walls clenched. My whole body grew hot. One big flush of debased need. I wanted him to break me open. To hit the core of it all and reclaim the pain that plagued my nerves and gripped my heart.

  His hand landed with an expert slap low on my arse. Right next to my cunt, just how I loved. “Look at me,” he said. I did. Another crack. “I love you.”

  A cry shot out of me at the words and the strike of his cock into my womb. He loved me. And as much as I wanted to deny it, I loved him. We were fucked. Tears were inevitable but they were still unacceptable. I jerked my head, trying to lose them to the sheets.

  “Don’t shake your head at me. You think I want to?” Crack. Another brutal drive that lit up my cunt to a solar flare. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. I did everything right. It still—” Crack. “Fucking—” Crack. “Happened.”

  “Zed!” I couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t feel all of this. Couldn’t come this hard. I was a dying star, burning as I capsized, hung on the edge of obliteration.

  “I can’t think straight. I can’t control it.” He gripped my shoulder and drilled into me, fast and ruthless. “And you’ll be gone.”

  “Come with me,” I begged against his skin. “Please.”

  “God, Nairne.” His voice cracked. That powerful body dropped over me as we shattered into each other, and his voice landed soft in my hair. “In another life, innamorata, I would follow you to the end.”

  Tears slipped down my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around his broad back and squeezed mercilessly. “Zed.” All I had was his name and the visceral pain I felt.

  “Shh, fragolina. No crying for this.”

  He kissed me. Slow, hard, and tinged with the bitterness of endings. I watched those eyes. Stark blues and greens of a stormy sea, gold flecks of the sun piercing the clouds.

  “What do we do?” I whispered.

  He heard the words I wasn’t saying. That I loved him, too, and hated myself for letting it happen. He sighed, dropped to his elbows as he smoothed my hair from my sweaty face. “We enjoy the hell out of each other until the day you leave, then do the hard thing. The right thing.” He kissed me as our foreheads met. “We say goodbye.”

  Zed slept heavy beside me, arm draped around my middle. I lifted it and slipped out, quietly transferred to my chair, and did my morning routine. We had the back first-floor bedroom, so all it took was a roll down the hallway until I found the kitchen, buzzing with the hum of idle appliances. He’d left everything out for me. Small tray for my lap, delicate china cup, and my favorite kind of granola bar next to the coffee maker.

  I went into the living room loaded up with my treats and found Teo sitting there. Long limbs stretched out from his chair, coffee cup cradled in hand as he stared into a fresh fire. In profile, he looked a lot like Zed. Though unlike Zed, he still held on to the vestiges of adolescence, a pup not quite grown into his paws.

  In a few years, he’d be a stunning man. A little leaner and taller. Less sharp-featured than Zed’s powerful, striking form, tiger eyes, and beautiful roughness. But I could see Teo had a big heart that carried even bigger pain. Despite his happy demeanor, he wore his grief for his mother openly, with a weight that Zed compartmentalized too well. I wanted to cradle Teo in my arms and mother the hell out of him.

  He caught me watching as he turned from the fire and smiled over his cup. “Good morning. You’re an early riser, too?”

  I nodded as I stopped myself in front of the fire across from him. “Do you mind if I join?”

  “Please, of course.” We sat in a few minutes of easy silence while I sipped my coffee, broke off my granola piece by piece, and ate.

  As he continued staring off, Teo looked bleaker than a twenty-one-year-old should. Lost.

  “How long was your mother sick?”

  He dragged his eyes from the fire and stared at me intently. Sitting up in the chair, he rubbed his jaw. “She was diagnosed early in ’96. Underwent treatment and went into remission, but that didn’t last long...” He sighed. “He still hasn’t talked to you about her, has he?”

  I shook my head. “Since 1996, you say?” I wasn’t Elodie, but I could do that mental math just fine. Eight years ago. Zed had been eighteen. On the cusp of adulthood, the beginning of what should have been a stunning, world-class career.

  There it was. So, fucking obvious. Why hadn’t I seen it? I understood his odd mixture of loyalty and sabotage to his underworld because he was a natural leader, and he was good. Of course, he’d want to make the best of a terrible reality—that he was the prince of this horrible web of corruption and violence—and do something to destabilize his own predecessor’s vicious empire. But that was based on him having chosen his life to be in Boston, and I could never understand that. What had kept him here in the first place, when the world had been at his doorstep?

  “He didn’t leave, because he wanted to be home. It was because he wanted to be near her while she was ill,” I said as I faced the fire. I wasn’t asking. I was giving the flame of my knowledge the oxygen it needed.

  Teo stared at me, then peered down into his coffee. “He should be telling you this.”

  “He’s protecting me.” Elbows on my knees, I sought the flames’ warmth for my shaking hands. “It’s one thing for him to choose this world because it suits him best. For me, I can walk away from it—well, roll really. Sometimes walk, slowly.”

  Teo shook his head. “Your jokes.”

  I smiled faintly into the fire. “It’s a clear choice for me that way. But not for him…” I shifted in my seat. “Zed staying meant it was simply a matter of time before he was sucked into the fucking miscreant quicksand. He was cornered and made the best out of a horrible situation, using his position to combat your families’ poison, and now he’s in too deep to get out. He knows I’ll feel conflicted about leaving him when that’s the reality.”

  Teo sighed and denied none of it. “I told him to go. Mama begged him to, said she saw what would happen. But he wouldn’t listen. Said it wasn’t right.” Teo rubbed a hand over his face. “Such a stubborn fuck. He needs to take his hands out of it.”

  “But innocents might get hurt. Tensions will mount. Truces will vanish. Ordered systems will destabilize.” I understood it perfectly. Zed held things together. If he let go, it would crumble.

  “Who fucking cares?” Teo snapped. He ran a hand viciously through his hair. “He’s done enough. The feds and cops can deal with them fine. I’m so sick of worrying about him.”

  I couldn’t hear that possibility. “He’s safe. He said you’re both untouchable.” The words caught in my throat, came out thin and whispered. Fearful.

  Teo raised an eyebrow that spoke of withering impatience. “I am. I’m…neutral. I don’t have my hands in any of it. But Zed is…he’s in deep shit. He’s answerable to the boss and Nella, and also holds significant power as consigliere—”

  I choked on my coffee and gasped for air. “What the hell did you just say?”

  Teo stared at me. “What?”

  “Consigliere?” I wheezed. And the striking woman, who’d spat at my feet, she was his superior? “Christ. I had this idea of him trying to destabilize things from the periphery, but not from the control center.”

  “That’s the problem, Nairne,” Teo said. “He’s in the heart of it, and if he gets caught… The men respect him, but they’d kill him the moment they could.”

  He took a poker and jabbed the fire with force that had everything to do with what he was saying. “I’ll tell you one thing. I’m getting the fuck out of here, soon. He’s not staying here on my account. I’m working on convincing Dad, too, but he says he won’t leave Zed.” He shook his heads. “Idiots, both of them.”

  Pain, like I hadn’t felt in so long, crept through my chest and choked my throat. Pain injected with a desperate urgency to act. To enforce change in the future’s seeming inevitabilities. I spun my coffee cup and turned over the possible solutions. “Zed n
eeds a path that he can morally stomach, wherein he can get out without it all falling apart and unduly hurting others.”

  Teo watched me with sharp eyes. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  “So, we make one.”

  “Nairne.” Teo sighed. “What are you gonna do? Chat about it with the boss over tea and biscuits? These people are brutal. Unscrupulous and deadly.”

  I waved it away, rubbed my forehead in thought. “I’ll figure it out. There’s got to be a way. Just give me some time.”

  A seed of an idea took root. I hid it in the dark, behind an expression of ongoing consideration. I didn’t have it all figured out, but I knew I had to go to the source of the trouble and make a case for my plan. Zed wouldn’t like it. He’d hate it, actually.

  That’s why he wasn’t going to know.

  Thirty-One

  Nairne

  Zed strolled down the hall, black sweatpants low on his hips and one of his old Harvard shirts hugging tan skin and hard muscles. He walked straight over to me, took my jaw and brought my lips to his for a kiss. Ownership. Blunt touch smoothed by affection. Like we hadn’t made a hot mess of our feelings last night. The ones that were supposed to be cool and contained by clear expectations and a timestamp.

  “Merry Christmas, la mia regina,” he mumbled against my lips.

  I breathed in deeply. Petrichor. Fresh rainstorm air. Earthy musk. I wanted to bathe in it.

  Teo choked on his coffee. “Did you just call her your queen?”

  “Fuck off, Teo,” Zed mumbled as he kissed me again. “Mind your own beeswax.”

  “Beeswax,” Teo muttered into his mug. “Real mature.”

  “Good morning.” I stroked his stubble, gave him eyes that said what I wanted. Him. Fucking me brainless.

  He thumbed my chin. Kissed me once more. “Later, I’m wrecking you,” he whispered.

  I smiled. “It’s a date.”

  Teo groaned. “Guys. I’m still here. Choking down vomit.”

  Zed rolled his eyes and straightened. He grinned at me and slipped his fingers through my ponytail. “I’m gonna grab some coffee.”

  As he passed his brother, Zed ruffled Teo's hair. “Buon Natale, fratu.”

  Brando showed up a bit later, handing out gifts and kisses on heads. Presents were exchanged and kept spare, while snow swirled around outside, painting the world a serene white. As the sun slipped behind snow clouds and the earth fell quiet, we all drifted between cat naps and disappearing into our books.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention.” Brando snapped shut A Christmas Carol and stared over his glasses. “Gianno called this morning. He’s coming for dinner. Should be here shortly.”

  “Sounds good.” Zed was reading, too. I’d given him the first book of Outlander. He laughed at something under his breath and turned the page.

  We’d agreed on one present because what the hell business did an intentionally impermanent couple have, lavishing gifts of significance on each other? Of course, Zed obeyed the rules while bending them and gave me one gift that reeked of generosity. My favorite whiskey, which was a splurge.

  Teo slept on the floor and snored.

  The whole environment made me itchy. It was too pleasant and cozy. Too comfortable. But when I remembered I was going to say goodbye to it all in a few short months, the perfection of it was marred. It was a mirage of belonging that was never meant to last.

  “This isn’t fair. She’s like an encyclopedia.” Teo threw the card at us in disgust. “Fucking molybdenum. How the hell did you know that, Nairne?”

  “’Cause she’s the Hermione Granger of MIT, Teo.” Zed kneaded my neck in his grip, and grinned.

  I shrugged and smiled. “I like chemistry.”

  Teo scoffed. “Potions is the one thing Hermione’s supposed to suck at. Not to mention, what’s that make you, Zeddo—Harry Potter? Please. Try Cedric Diggory.”

  I laughed. “Ice cold burn.”

  Zed looked genuinely offended. “First off, Hermione and Harry aren’t going to end up together. I’m telling you right now. Secondly, fuck you, calling me a Hufflepuff! Gryffindor forever, baby. If anyone’s from the house of goody-two-shoes, it’s you, Theodore.”

  Teo opened his mouth, presumably for a comeback, but we were interrupted by a new voice.

  “Buon Natale!”

  Brando laughed and stood. “Ciao, Gianno. Benvenuto.”

  “Such a sore loser, Teo.” Zed sighed.

  He lifted his hand from the base of my neck where he’d been working out the kinks, and stood, too. Teo followed and I was left reminded that I couldn’t just pop off a sofa and greet a newcomer with a handshake. So, I sat like I always did and put on a smile while they hugged and talked in a blur of Italian, until Zed stood back to let Gianno by so he could greet me.

  He took one step my way, made eye contact, then froze. As he stared at me wide-eyed, I mentally noted that Zio Gianno was a looker. Hell of a gene pool these men had. Eyes a luminous amber. Rich brown hair, just dusted with silver along his temples. He was handsome, but besides his tan skin like Brando’s, he didn’t look a thing like Zed’s father.

  Zed knocked him in the arm. “What’s up with you? You’re staring at her like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Gianno gave me his hand, eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry. She looked…familiar to me. Piacere, bella.”

  Zed stared between us uneasily and stepped closer. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Gianno, questa è la mia ragazza, Nairne MacGregor. Nairne, Giancarlo Mancini. My godfather and general pain in my ass.”

  Gianno sank into a chair behind him and raised a shaking hand to his mouth. “What did you say her name was?”

  Zed squeezed then let go. “Nairne MacGregor. Gianno what the fuck is going on with you? Do you feel all right?”

  Brando set a hand on Gianno’s back. “Va bene?”

  Gianno tore his eyes from me like he was worried I’d vanish when he looked away. “Do you have something stronger than wine?”

  “Grappa.” Brando backtracked toward the bar.

  “Grazie.” Gianno’s eyes snapped back to me. Brando set a small glass in Gianno’s hand. His attention tore away long enough for him to throw it back. Then he set it delicately on the side table. When his eyes met mine again, they startled me. I recognized something in them that belonged to one man already in the room—possession.

  “How old are you, Nairne?” He made it Italian like Brando, with an upswing on the end.

  “Twenty-one, sir.”

  “Madonna Mia.” He sat back, ran his hands through his hair. His hair wasn’t long but fell a little messy toward the front. Thick waves that had hid the clarity of his cheekbones, his brow. When he tugged back his hair and better revealed his face, something stung me. I’d caught a reflection of myself in a mirror that shouldn’t be.

  Zed slammed his hands on his hips. “Gianno, I—”

  “Zeddo, wait.” Brando set a hand on his son’s chest. “Che cosa è, Gianno?” Brando asked.

  Gianno leaned his elbows on his knees. “It seems so remotely impossible…”

  Zed swore and looked about to beat the piss out of something when Gianno spoke up and clapped his hands. “Brando. Remember when I came with you to that fundraising dinner in the city? December of 1982.”

  Brando nodded slowly. “Yes, Zed was old enough to leave with a nanny and Deirdre came with us. She wore that blue gown. We, ah—” He glanced at us and smiled sheepishly. “We had a good time.”

  Gianno pointed a finger at him. “That we did. And I met someone that night. She was a surgical fellow in pediatrics…più bellissima. The loveliest woman. Tall and fair, eyes like the sea.” He studied my face and ponytail. “Hair come una fragola. So intelligent and proud.”

  My stomach churned. That was my mother. Everything about that was Lorna MacGregor.

  “I didn’t hide my interest. She finally gave me her time, and between my wine and her whiskeys, we came alive, talking until they kicked us out.” He sat bac
k, ran a hand over his mouth. “I took her to my bed.”

  I swallowed, tried to find air for my lungs. Breathing was supposed to be autonomic, not a labor of concentration.

  “When I woke the next morning, she was gone. No number, nothing but a note saying she’d enjoyed the night. I was disappointed she’d left me with nothing to go on, but I had little time to find her before I was required to go back home to Italy. I was still playing professionally and had to return immediately, pick up my schedule. I told myself to let it go and move on. Even though she was a remarkable woman. Not easily forgotten.”

  Zed dropped onto the sofa, cupped my neck. “Nairne, easy.”

  I couldn’t break eye contact with Gianno, but I nodded.

  Zed dropped his voice. “Breathe, innamorata.”

  I tried. I really did.

  Gianno slid to the edge of his seat. “Over the next few years, I thought of her, contemplated ways that I might find her. Then fate played its part. Visiting you all in the summer a few years later, I bumped into her at the hospital. We’d just had lunch, Brando, and I was walking out and nearly ran her over. It was her, the same woman. We laughed, felt that pull between us again. I asked for her number, and she gave it to me. And her real name.”

  I dragged in air that felt thin and inadequate. Zed gripped my neck and snapped at Gianno. “What the hell is this about?! You’re giving her a panic attack.”

  He pressed on. “We made plans to meet that evening for a late dinner, after she got off her shift. She came running into the restaurant a little late, still in her scrubs, but still so radiantly beautiful. I finally had her real name to put to such loveliness. Lorna.”

  “Oh, my god.” My hands shook, and I dropped forward as panic clutched my chest.

  “Dad, get over here.” Zed was around me, but he couldn’t help. Nothing could help.

  “Nairne, look at me.” Brando took my face, examined it, felt my pulse. “She’ll be all right, Zeddo. She’s upset, but she’s all right.”