A flicker of tenderness crosses his face and gently he runs his hand though her hair. She watches him steadily, unsure whether to kiss him or kill him. He leans his face towards hers and their lips brush. Then he turns away and wanders back to the desk, much to her disappointment. He picks up one of the accounts ledgers.
“I must say Rach I'm impressed, you've done well. The takings are good. It seems you're quite the businesswoman. I heard about the way you handled Jason Wilks. How did it make you feel?”
She blanches at the memory. “Why don't you just get to the point then leave me in peace. I've got a club to run.”
“Still a bitch I see. Fine. have it your own way. I want my clubs back.”
“Sorry to disappoint but you're not getting them. You signed them over to me and Mikey fair and square.”
“Fair? What's so fucking fair about being locked up by your own father? He threatened me into signing those clubs over, I had no choice. Now I want them back.”
“You brought it all on yourself. May I remind you why Frank locked you up in the first place? Because you attacked me while you were high on drugs.”
“Aw come on Rach, you gave as good as you got. I had a right shiner.”
“Which was fucking well deserved.” She is yelling at the top of her voice now but knows no one will be able to hear her, not with all the noise coming from downstairs. “And I had to go to hospital.”
“Oh please, it was an accident you whining cow.”
“Watch your mouth. I'm not the woman you remember.”
There’s a pause as they glare at each other, eyes blazing and breathing hard. When Danny speaks again his voice is softer.
“I hear you saw a solicitor about a divorce.”
“You hear a lot, don't you?”
“They turned you down.”
She scowls. “Because you disappeared you bastard. I have to wait at least five years. But now that you're back, are you going to give me one?”
He grins. “Well I'm not in any hurry, so why not? Still like it rough Rach?”
She rolls her eyes, wishing she'd chosen her words better.
He strokes the top of the desk. “You remember the times we had on here?”
She sighs in impatience. “Stop pissing about, you know what I mean.”
“If I let you have your divorce then I can kiss goodbye to my clubs so I'm afraid we're stuck with each other Babe, or at least until one of us is dead.”
“You first.”
“Oh cold. When did you turn into such a hard faced cow?”
“The day I married you. Anyway, since when did you become such good friends with the Sugars?”
“They're tame dogs, nothing more. They're going to help me get everything back.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah Rach. The security, the drugs, the money laundering, the lot. Terry and Alex think they've got it all sewn up but they haven't a clue. I've got contacts you wouldn't believe.”
Rachel's face falls. “You're serious, aren't you?”
“Deadly.”
He tries to touch her face but she pushes his hand away.
“Don't ever touch me again.”
He smiles slyly then yanks the stun gun from her belt. She is astonished by how fast he moves, leaving her no time to react. He presses the gun against her chest and she takes a deep breath, refusing to be intimidated.
“I'll give you a week to think it over, for old times' sake.”
He runs the stun gun down her breasts and she dare not move in case it encourages him to use it.
“If I don't have my clubs back by then, the trouble will really begin,” he whispers in her ear.
She says nothing, contenting herself with scowling at him as he leaves, throwing her stun gun to the floor in the process. Once he’s gone she sinks into the chair still warm from Danny and cradles her head in her hands.
Predictably Terry is livid.
“Who the fuck does he think he is? Waltzing in here and throwing his weight about. When I get hold of him I'll teach the cheeky little bastard a lesson he'll never forget.”
Rachel rolls her eyes as he continues his tirade. With Terry it’s always best to let him get it out of his system. Only then can he talk rationally.
“Frank left the businesses to me, he'd always made that clear, then I would pass it all on to Alex and Danny jointly. Why the problem now?”
He continues to rant and pace. Alex is being surprisingly quiet. Rachel had expected him to react much the same as his uncle however he has always been close to Danny, it must be hard for him. She is relieved when Mikey enters the office and Terry finally shuts up.
“Rach, are you alright?” he asks, ignoring Terry and Alex.
“Yeah, fine,” she replies with a grim smile. Her hand trembles as she takes a sip of brandy.
“I had a visit from the Sugars too at one of my clubs, on behalf of Danny. Course I didn't get the man himself, he was too busy here.”
“And what did they say?” says Terry.
“If I don't sign the clubs back over to Danny in one week then I'll regret it.”
“Did they give you any specifics?” says Alex quietly.
“No but I don't think they'll do anything to the clubs. Danny won’t want them damaged if he wants them back.”
Rachel nods. The same thought had already occurred to her. “I think he means the damage will be inflicted on us personally.”
They are all quiet for a moment.
“This is another war isn't it?” says Alex, his voice low. “Only this time the enemy is my little brother.”
Terry rounds on him furiously. “Now's not the time to go soft. We need you at full strength.”
“Don't worry about me,” glowers Alex. “Worry about yourself.”
“What, am I supposed to be scared you lairy little git? I'll eat you for breakfast.”
Rachel rolls her eyes. They‘re like two stags continually butting heads and it‘s getting ridiculous. “Danny's changed,” she interjects in an attempt to distract them. “He's stronger, more confident. He reminded me of Frank.”
Alex is surprised by this comment and a little unnerved but Terry isn't.
“Yeah well we'll put that to the test. If he thinks I'm going to roll over and let him and the bastard Sugar crew tear apart everything Frank built up then he's got another thing coming. Don't worry you two, we won’t let him take your clubs.”
“Then it is war,” says Mikey.
The club is finally empty and the remaining staff are cleaning up. Wearily Rachel plonks herself at a table in the corner to add up the takings. Normally she would do this in her office away from prying eyes but after the night's events she wants to be around people and she trusts Dolores implicitly.
“Sorry we're closed,” Dolores calls to a shadowy figure striding towards them across the dance floor. For a moment Rachel feels a tremble of fear and her hand automatically goes to the stun gun which she now habitually carries at all times tucked into the back of her skirt but she relaxes when she sees it’s only Ryan.
“It's alright Dolores,” she calls.
“Didn't see you there Rachel,” he says, squinting at her in the gloom.
“Get him a drink on the house will you Dolores? Whatever he wants.”
“Will do,” she replies, pouring him a double whisky. She knows Ryan Law of old.
Ryan collects his drink and joins Rachel at the table, who has locked the takings up in the cash box. He hands her a glass of white wine.
“And what are you doing here so late?” she smiles, not wanting him to feel unwelcome.
“I heard about what happened tonight. I wanted to check you're okay.”
“I’m alright but I’d be lying if I said I’m not shaken up.”
“He threatened you?”
“Yes.”
Ryan’s eyes narrow. “I just wanted to say I’m here for you Rachel. He’s not going to hurt you, I won’t let him.”
“Thank you, I appreciat
e that.”
“Are you sure you‘re alright?” he says, noting the tension in her jaw and sadness in her eyes.
“Oh I'm fine. I always am,” she smiles grimly, taking a sip of wine but it’s a lie. She’s reluctant to go home, afraid of being alone.
“It's okay to be afraid Rachel. Fear stops us getting complacent.”
“That's easy for you to say. I bet you're not afraid of anything.”
“On the contrary I'm afraid all the time. I'm frightened of getting killed or losing my businesses or worst of all, ending up back inside.”
“You, scared? I don't believe it,” she replies playfully. The wine is going straight to her tired and confused head and she realises she’s flirting with him but she can't help herself. She’s always found him very attractive, particularly after the manly display he put on at Martina’s house when Pete Fraser’s men attacked them.
He leans towards her and whispers confidentially in her ear. “The day I lose the fear is the day I lose everything.”
She can hear the sense of his words and nods. The next thing she knows his lips are pressing against hers, his hands pulling her towards him. For a moment, just a single moment, she allows him to kiss her, she’s missed the closeness of a man. Then she shakes herself out of it and gently pulls away, glancing around at the staff, who have tactfully disappeared.
“What do you think you're doing?” she says breathlessly and rather weakly.
“You must know how I feel about you Rachel?”
“I noticed but I didn’t think you’d act on it.”
“I tried not to but I can’t pretend anymore. I want you Rachel, in every way.”
The prospect makes her tingle but she pushes these treasonous thoughts aside. Now is not the time. However those thoughts return with a vengeance when his hand slides over her knee, radiating warmth, sending a shiver of pleasure straight up her thigh and into the very centre of her. My God, she thinks. I thought only Danny could make me feel this good.
She doesn’t realise her eyes are closed until she opens them and his face is just inches from her own. He kisses her again and with a groan she falls back into the booth, allowing herself just a little indulgence. He tastes so good, all musky and masculine, his stubble teasing her chin as his hand slides higher up to the hem of her skirt.
“Oh Jesus, stockings,” he breathes when he finds the lace at the top of her hold-ups.
A wave of heat pulses through her body as his long fingers brush the silky skin between her stockings and panties. She grips his shoulders hard, willing him to climb higher even though she knows it’s so wrong. He stares at her hard with those piercing grey eyes, the smile on his lips telling her he knows what she’s thinking.
“I want you Rachel, so much,” he repeats in that deep sexy voice.
For a moment she’s sorely tempted so she pulls his face back down to hers and kisses him while she wrestles with her conscience. This time his tongue forces its way into her mouth and with a moan she welcomes it. She runs her fingers through his thick hair, tugging at it as his lips move down to her neck. Those clever fingers play a little higher up her thigh and briefly press against her black lace panties, which are sinfully wet. When he feels how damp she is he inhales sharply.
“Oh God Ryan, this is wrong,” she says, wrapping a leg around his waist.
“It can’t be wrong, it feels too good,” he murmurs into her neck.
“I know but oh…,” she gasps as his fingers press harder against her panties. “Oh that’s good…but…I’m still married…oh…”
“Is that nice?” he says, starting to rub gently.
Rachel grits her teeth, sliding her hands inside his shirt to find a hard muscular back. “Oh God yes Ryan…”
Pushing the panties aside he slides his fingers inside her and she gasps and clings onto him tightly as the pleasure starts to build.
“Christ you’re wet,” he groans in her ear. “Can you come for me?”
“Oh yes…I’m going to…”
Those long fingers slide in deeper while his other hand caresses her breasts, slipping inside her bra to find rock hard nipples. He pinches them, making her gasp.
“I’ve dreamed of what you’d look like coming so many times Rachel. Show me.”
She’s so close to satisfying his curiosity and, desperate to touch him, she runs her hand over the very sizeable bulge in his jeans, causing him to growl with pleasure.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he says. “Not unless you want me to rip those panties off and fuck you here and now.”
This is too much for her and it tips her over the edge. Her spine arches up against him as she comes and his mouth devours hers, claiming her ecstatic cry.
Rachel flops back onto the cool leather of the booth, panting and relaxed for the first time in months. The release had been immense after so long without.
Ryan watches her with a smile, lying there with her legs splayed, stockings on full display and has to restrain himself from making good on his threat and plunging himself inside her. He resists the urge with everything he’s got because he knows if he doesn’t get it right with her the first time then he’ll blow it for good. So instead he holds her to him, a strange contented sort of feeling consuming him when she nuzzles into him.
He knows the exact moment the guilt overwhelms her because she goes rigid in his arms and pushes herself upright. He sighs inwardly, disappointed.
Ryan takes her face in his hands and presses his forehead to hers. “You’re not ready to move on yet?”
For a moment she can’t talk, she’s still recuperating from the intense orgasm he just gave her. Then she recovers the power of speech. “I don’t think so,” she replies reluctantly.
“It’s okay,” he says softly. She watches in fascination as he puts the fingers of that clever hand to his lips, closing his eyes to savour her taste. “Mmm, the memory of this will sustain me until you’re ready. Then Rachel, I will fuck you every way possible. Never mind hours, it will last days.”
She can’t stop the whimper escaping her lips and she has the overwhelming urge to let him do what he wants to her right now in this booth. Somehow that posh Cambridge accent just makes the prospect seem even hotter.
“I don’t want to give you any false hope,” she croaks, hardly able to speak, her heart pounding. She’s so confused after her encounter with Danny and now this. She can't think straight and she doesn’t want to hurt a friend.
He kisses her gently on the lips and smiles. “Don't worry Rachel. You'll get over him sooner than you realise and I'll be waiting.”
With that he gets to his feet and Rachel watches him leave walking rather stiffly, feeling more confused than ever, the taste of him still on her lips.
Ryan exits the club into the cool night air, exhilarated. That hadn’t been his intention when he came here, he’d just wanted to make sure she was alright after her encounter with her prick of a husband but when he’d seen her sat there looking all nervous and needy he couldn’t help himself. He almost groans out loud at the memory of her hot wetness, of her silky skin and those stockings, Christ those stockings were a welcome surprise. He didn’t think women wore them habitually anymore, although if he had his way he’d make it a law. He’s still rock hard and considers visiting one of his casual girlfriends to relieve himself but decides against it. Any other woman now would only be second best.
CHAPTER 28
The Devlin Brothers are two monsters, well over six foot tall with shaved scarred heads, thick eyebrows and small beady eyes and look as though they could give Battler and Bruiser a run for their money. The two sets of brothers eye each other suspiciously in Rachel's office in Martina's Bar. Despite the size of the room it feels very cramped with these four huge men ranged together. They are Terry's latest addition to the workforce and no one except him is impressed about it. Unsurprisingly they’ve been brought in as heavies and Battler and Bruiser are feeling seriously usurped. But whereas Battler and Bruiser are able to discern
when a situation calls for violence or words and can work on their own initiative, so in tune are they with their employers, the Devlin Brothers are utter morons barely capable of tying their own shoelaces. Terry has added insult to injury by giving them the better jobs and leaving all the shite to the ever-loyal Battler and Bruiser. On top of all that, Terry has just informed Rachel and Mikey that the Devlin Brothers are taking over running the nightclub security and they are arguing against it furiously.
“I'm sorry Terry but I'm not having it,” seethes Rachel, her dark eyes black. “Battler and Bruiser have worked the security for years. They know the business inside out. For God's sake they helped set it up with Frank.”
She had hoped the mention of his brother's name would remind Terry of the obligation he owes Battler and Bruiser but it only seems to infuriate him further.
“You seem to think you have a say in this,” says Terry nastily. “You don’t. The Devlins are taking over, end of.”
“Rachel's right, this is insane,” says Mikey, his rage evident as he squares up to Terry. “The clubs are ours, they’re sod all to do with you. We pick who runs the security and Battler and Bruiser stay. Got it?”
Rachel nods furiously in agreement. She looks to Alex for help but he stares at the floor, avoiding her eyes, and she silently curses him for a coward.
Terry is enraged by this disobedience. He knows that if it had been Frank asking then they would have agreed without question. Just because it's him they are being awkward but to be fair he can see that Rachel and Mikey are doing the sensible thing. He is well aware that the Devlin Brothers could no more run the nightclub security than they could read a book but that’s the idea. Terry wants the clubs for his own purposes and knows Rachel and Mikey won’t hand them over willingly. So he has decided to erode the businesses from within, until they beg him to take them off their hands. However he hasn't accounted for their sheer stubbornness. Nevertheless he decides to play the magnanimous uncle looking out for his family's best interests, all the while planning his next attack.
Terry holds his hands up in a gesture of supplication. “Alright, you win. Battler and Bruiser will carry on running the security but they are out of the stately home robberies. The Devlins are in.”
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