Beautifully Broken (The Denver Series Book 2)

by Eve L Mitchell

  Devon fucked like a champion. I never would have thought it of her, but she was willing to try anything, and as a result, I gave her everything. Despite her injury, she never let it stop her, and after she had her breakfast, her sex fuel as she called it, she proved that she could match me, thrust for thrust. I looked down at her sleeping form as I buttoned my suit jacket. She looked so perfect in my bed I actually regretted the fact that I had to leave her.

  But I had work to do.

  I dropped a kiss to her forehead. I had a note on the dresser for her when she woke. I doubted that she would wake tonight. She was exhausted, although she tried to hide it. I had also mixed a sleeping tablet into her tea when I gave her two painkillers. I didn’t need her waking up when I was gone and freaking out. We were in a secluded spot, I owned the surrounding twenty-five acres of woodland and pasture. Only one person knew of this cabin, and my father was in New York. I knew she was safe if she stayed within the cabin.

  I just needed to trust that she would stay in the cabin.

  As I started the engine of the Jag, I stifled a yawn. With a grin, I realised that I was as equally exhausted as Devon. My body was lethargic from the hard exercise I had put it through today. My thighs were tight from exertion, my shoulders had fresh scratches, ones that Devon had dug in deep to replace the ones from the other week. Her anger at the marks and her reaction to them was briefly spanked out of her before I tied her loosely to the bed and fucked her furiously from behind, all while she screamed for more.

  I needed to get her on the pill. Every time she looked at me, I wanted to empty myself inside her. It was as if my control was gone now that I’d tasted her. I could stay in that cabin and fuck her for days, weeks, and not tire of how her body felt as she came for me over and over.

  Frowning as I drove, I realised the dangerous path I was on. I couldn’t let anything take my control, not even if it was attached to a heavenly pussy and an equally mesmerising woman.

  I shook my head as if to clear my mind of how she felt under me. My dick was already hardening at the thought of being inside her again. I snorted as I recalled I had the cheek to chastise Cammy for being a walking hormone.

  She isn’t the first woman you’ve fucked, I reminded myself harshly. No, but she’s by far the best.

  My lips tightening, I pushed her out of my head. I had work to do. Plays to make. Pieces on the board to move. I would deal with her when I had handled everything else.

  Killing Mario and his men probably wouldn’t have drawn attention from anyone of notice, but I had to be sure. Malcolm needed to plug the hole in the market before anyone else noticed that there was a hole in the market.

  I also had to meet with Alberto and Cammy, as well as to speak with Louis to prod him further into giving the go ahead to kill Nico. I needed to persuade Antonio to kill the deal with Emilio, all the while removing both Nico and Emilio and making it look unconnected to me and the East Coast, in order to appease my cousin.

  There was also the threat to Devon of her father. I still wasn’t sure what to do with that. He could wait. She would sleep until morning, and the note would tell her I would be back soon.

  She better be there when I got back.

  Growling in my throat, I pushed her out of my thoughts again. Focus. I needed to focus. Picking up the burner, I turned it on. It rang within minutes.

  “Where have you been?” Les demanded.

  “What’s happened?”

  “The Devil’s Highwaymen came looking for you. Malcolm is handling it, but he needs you.”

  “Her father there?” I asked tightly.

  “I’m not sure. Joe refuses to tell us who’s with him. He’s maybe pissed about New York.”

  Fuck, I forgot about New York. “Where?”

  “Malcolm has a meeting with them later at Mario’s bar.”

  That wouldn’t be a good idea. “Change the venue,” I instructed Les. “Is Malcolm there?”

  “No, we’re at the house,” Les told me.

  “Stay there, I’ll be there in forty.”

  Next, I called Louis. “It’s me.”

  “Where have you been?” Louis sounded pissed off, that wasn’t like him.

  “I was giving you space,” I told him as I pressed harder on the gas.

  “I thought about it,” Louis said, his voice dropping low. I could hear indistinct chatter in the background.

  “Where are you?” I asked carefully. He told me the name of the prestigious hotel in Downtown Denver. “Why?”

  “Because Emilio arranged a meeting,” Louis told me, and I could hear his frustration, but I bit back my angry retort.

  “Fake food poisoning,” I said harshly. “Get the fuck out of there, go back to the ranch. I don’t care about Italian family sensibilities, just do it.”

  Emilio was going to get them both killed, and I was only interested in one of them. I tossed the phone angrily to the seat beside me.

  Nico was making his move before I could get to Alberto. I needed to take care of the Highwaymen and Malcolm first. I glanced at the time, my mind racing. One day, one day I had left them, and it all went to shit. Grabbing the phone, I dialled.

  “Where are you?”

  “You could try saying hello once in a while,” Cammy grumbled at me. “We’re in some shit hotel in the middle of fucking Denver.”

  “Which shit hotel?” I asked, and as Cam told me, I closed my eyes in relief that this was at least working for me. They were in Cherry Creek, the hotel not shit, but to the Sabinos, it wouldn’t be the luxury they were used to.

  “I have things to do. I need you to hold him for me for three hours, maybe four.”

  “Are you fucking shitting me?” Cammy demanded. “I’ve been here since last night. This city annoys me. My uncle is going to walk if you’re not here soon.”

  “Four hours,” I snapped. “You owe me, you little shit.” My temper was unravelling.

  “Ugh, because of Dana?” Cam was incredulous.

  “Cam, just—” I took a breath. “Can you just do it?”

  “Fine.” I heard him sigh, no doubt getting rid of his own temper. “But only because you called me Cam.” He hung up, and I gave a light laugh.

  I glanced at the clock on the dashboard again. Get to Malcolm, fix the Devil’s, ensure Louis was back home, talk to Alberto, convince him why he needed to do what needed to be done, get him and Cam out of Denver. Then make it look like Nico and Emilio had accidents. It was fifteen after seven. I had a long fucking night ahead of me, and nothing could go wrong. An image of Devon sleeping soundly flashed in my head, and I felt the tension in my shoulders relax.

  These men were all killers, so they would sense any tension from me. I needed to be in control. Steady. Reserved. Me.

  With another glance at the clock, I sped towards Denver, the mask of the Wraith slipping easily into place.

  I walked into Malcolm’s house as I always did, sure and confident. I found him in his second living room, Les standing quietly at the window, Wayne lounging quietly beside the door. Malcolm was in a dark grey suit, his white dress shirt open at the collar.

  “No tie?” I asked as I took note of Les’s relieved look.

  “Where have you been?” Malcolm ignored my question.

  “Someone tried to shoot me last night,” I said with a slight frown. “I took care of it, and then I took care of the one who gave the order.”

  Malcolm’s eyes flicked to Les in question before he looked at me again. So Les hadn’t told him. Interesting. “Who?”

  “Super Mario and his band of merry men,” I said as I took a seat. “They’re dealt with.”

  “All of them?” Malcolm asked me somewhat frustratedly.

  “Yes.” I met his stare and held it. “We’ll go meet Joe, and you will offer Joe the deal you offered Mario. Let the Highwaymen be the supply chain this time. You provide the patch to work and simply change the profit margin to your favour.”

  “All of them?” Malcolm looked at me.
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  “You doubt me?” More importantly, why wasn’t he listening to my proposition?

  “No, it’s just sometimes, I wish you weren’t so…thorough,” he muttered as he stood. “You knew?” he asked Les.

  “No, I knew he was shot at, I didn’t know he cleaned up.”

  “You doubted?” I asked him casually.

  Les rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”

  I stood and looked towards Malcolm. “Where are we meeting them?”

  “Les changed it to the Tavern,” Malcolm said as he smoothed and buttoned his suit jacket.

  “Okay,” I nodded, my eyes following Wayne. When he was on the rug, I pulled my gun and shot him between the eyes. I ignored Malcolm’s gasp and Les’s yell. I walked over to Wayne’s fallen body, and bending down, I opened his shirt. “Look.” I looked over to Malcolm and Les, noting that Les was standing in front of Malcolm protectively, his gun pointed at me. “Calm down and put the gun away.”

  Malcolm moved out from behind Les and came over to me. His frown deepened as he looked at the tattoo. “When did you know?”

  “Last night for certain. He and Les helped me with the shooter,” I answered as I looked at the family crest tattoo.

  “You saw his chest?” Malcolm glanced at me in confusion.

  “His silencer.” I looked up at Les, who was glaring at the Vialli family crest on Wayne’s chest. “I recognised the engraving, careless of him really.”

  “Fuck.” Les glared at his friend’s dead body and gave it a swift kick in the ribs.

  “You should have noticed,” I reprimanded him. “We’ll sort this out later.” I looked down at Wayne. “You have someone else to call?”

  “You think of this now?” Les glared at me as he stepped away to make a call.

  “They were both there?” Malcolm asked me quietly.

  “Yes,” I said simply.

  “I would have appreciated a warning,” Malcolm grumbled.

  “It’s not why you pay me,” I quipped and he looked at me with slight exasperation.

  “I just promoted Dan,” Les announced as he walked back into the room. “I called the cleaner, and we have twenty minutes before we need to be there.” He looked at us both expectantly.

  “You promoted Dan and got demoted to driver,” I joked as I walked past him. “Sucks to be you.”

  “When can I shoot him?” I heard him ask Malcolm before they followed me out.

  “I’ll follow,” I told them as I stopped at the car. “I have a lot to do tonight.”

  Malcolm looked like he was going to ask, but then thought better of it. He merely nodded in acknowledgement as he got in the back of the Lincoln.

  The Tavern sounded like a homey welcoming place. In reality, it was a rundown shithole that needed to be severely renovated and its occupants drowned. Dan was standing down the street, blending in effortlessly. He was ex-army with his buzz-cut dark hair, short beard, looking like he was going to burst out of his shirt at any given moment. Gym bunnies, they never could wear the right size shirt, I mused. His black coat was nondescript, his dark jeans boring. I approved. Dan would do well.

  “I do all the talking,” Malcolm said as he got out of the car. “Raphe, you get us out if you even suspect it’s a setup. I don’t care if you overreact.”

  “Free rein?” I perked up considerably. Maybe this bit wouldn’t be as boring as I feared.

  “Just”—Malcom hesitated—“try not to start a war with the biker gang.” He looked at me and almost groaned. “It’s like giving a kid treats before their dinner,” he muttered as he made his way inside, me in front, Les at his side, and Dan bringing up the rear.

  I noticed Joe and his two men before they noticed me. My watchful gaze took in the Tavern, and I picked up four more of Joe’s club. I returned my attention to Joe, who stood as I approached. My peripheral vision picked up the movement in the shadow at the back of the bar, and I knew Joe had brought the big guns. Devon’s father was in the bar.

  The game play just changed.

  “Heard you were dead,” Joe greeted.

  “I disappoint so many people,” I deadpanned.

  “No, it’s good.” He beamed at me. “Owe you one.”

  I acknowledged his comment as I stood aside to let Malcolm take my place. “Joe.” Malcolm looked around the bar. “You brought so many friends.” Malcolm’s tone was dry.

  “Denver’s a bit edgy at the minute.” Joe took his seat and took a long drink of beer. “Safety in numbers. Especially after New York, no?”

  My derisive snort was loud in the room, and I noticed I caught too many of the MC’s attention. The shadow to the back moved slightly.

  “Currently has a certain European flavour to it,” Joe wisecracked. “Everybody seems to only want pizza.”

  “Never pegged you for a racist, how very biker of you,” I said coolly. Joe lost his grin, and Malcolm cleared his throat.

  “I asked you here for a reason,” Malcolm broke the tension as he began to put forward the idea I had pitched him in his living room. I tuned out the details as I took in the range of men in the bar. The two with Joe were his right-hand men, vice presidents or some club shit I needed to never know. The others were more or less his table. He had brought his hard hitters. Or potentially his table for the vote, I realised. Clubs were a democracy. Allegedly. They all voted, majority ruled. I was pretty sure they voted how Joe wanted them to and damn the consequences.

  Les was listening intently as he kept a watchful eye on the room. He saw the far corner of the bar, and as his eyes continued past, when he met my gaze briefly, he was letting me know he knew too.

  “Seventy-thirty is a shit deal.” Joe’s loud indignation interrupted my seemingly blissful ignorance of the deal. “Sixty-forty to the club.”

  “No deal,” Malcolm said calmly. I took in his demeanour as he hashed out his deal with Joe, and if the unannounced presence hadn’t been in the back, lingering, I would have walked out. Joe and Malcolm were fine, their working relationship would be good.

  “Why is he here?” I interrupted the negotiations.

  Joe looked at me in confusion, and Malcolm failed to hide his irritation. “What?” Joe asked. “Who?”

  “Your scythe.”

  Les moved closer to Malcolm and me, as did Dan. Joe noticed, and he looked around the bar. “What?” Joe asked again.

  I nodded towards the back. Devon’s father took a step into the light. “Why are you here?” I asked him casually.

  “You have something of mine,” he told me, his eyes fixed on me.

  “Do I?”

  “I want her back.” His nasally voice really did grate, Devon was right.

  “We don’t always get what we want.” I gave him a cursory look over. “You should know that, Snake. Or would you prefer if I called you Vincent?”

  “Vin?” Joe asked, failing to cover his surprise. “I thought you were in Phoenix.”

  “You haven’t been in Phoenix for a long time, have you, Vincent?” I asked, and he gave me a knowing smile, all teeth, no humour.

  “You two know each other?” Joe asked as he tried to understand what was going on. Malcolm was silent, knowing exactly what was happening.

  “Met once—” Snake answered.

  “Too many times,” I cut him off. “She stays with me.”

  “That doesn’t work for me,” Snake replied.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” I said easily. I heard Malcolm’s sharp inhale of breath, and I noticed the other club members straighten slightly. They knew a showdown was coming, and they were ready to protect their club member. “She won’t return to be chained in your home like a dog. She won’t return to hear the screams of the women you rape and murder.” I felt the shift in the air as club members looked between themselves. The information was known to few, rumours, whispers, the older guys suspected, the younger were clueless. Snake hid his sickness well. “She won’t be anywhere near you ever again.” My teeth curled over my lip as I kept my eyes on him. “
She stays…with…me.”

  “Vin?” Joe had lost his bluster and now was staring at Snake, distaste evident on his own face. “What the fuck is he talking about? Who is he talking about?”

  “His daughter,” I told Joe, “is with me.”

  “Devon?” Joe was clearly surprised. “You know Devon?”

  “Her name is Davina,” Snake snarled.

  “Her name is Devon, because why the fuck would she want to be called the name you gave her?”

  “Devon’s with you?” Joe looked at me speculatively. “Where’s Tats?”

  “Dead.”

  “You killed him?” Joe was on his feet.

  “Not me,” I answered as I kept my eyes on Snake. “That why you need her back? Scared she’ll talk?”

  “Seems she already talked.” He spat on the floor. Casually he looked over the bar. “Fucking keep her.” He turned to leave, but my next words froze him in place.

  “Joe, did you know that your Snake is in fact well-named?” As I unbuttoned my suit jacket, I took out my gun and pointed it across the room. Les had his gun pressed to Joe’s head, and the bar froze. “It’s okay, Les,” I told him. “Joe won’t mind if I shoot the fucker when he learns that Vincent’s family name is Ricci, and sometimes the kills he’s supposed to carry out end up safe back in Ricci territory.”

  With a sudden burst of speed, Snake darted out of the back of the bar, and I ran to the front of the Tavern. I heard the shouts behind me, but I didn’t care. He wasn’t getting free; he would never get close to Devon again.

  A loud roar of an engine broke the silence of the street, and I turned at his bike aimed straight for me. My knife flew through the night, and I saw the bike swerve, knowing I hit him. I raised my gun and unloaded a clip. Cursing as the bike advanced on me, I jumped out of the way. The bike crashed into a parked truck, and Vincent toppled off the bike. I was on him, my gun at his temple as he pushed himself away from the bike.

  “Don’t fucking move,” I told him harshly. His nose crunched satisfyingly as I brought my heel down on his face. When I looked up, both Les and Joe were looking at me. One in resignation, one with suspicion. “I’m taking him, and I will kill anyone who tries to stop me.” I looked at Joe. “You owe me one, remember?”