by Addy Archer
“My balls in a twist?” The corner of his mouth twitches and he shakes his head. “I have forwarded the evidence to three others, it’s what one needs to speed things up if you don’t want to wait for the next meeting since we only have them four times a year.”
“Oh, shit. Did they order you to wait till the meeting?” That must be it.
I get a sharp nod and the words added on a snarl, “There’s a debate they need Ridge to stay alive for, something about an update of laws. They need his vote.”
“Assholes,” I grumble, and shove another pickle in my mouth or at least I try to because Bruno steals it from me and pops it into his mouth.
He slowly chews while I can only stare at the place my pickle disappeared into. Those nice firm lips moving sensually. A chuckle slips over them and our eyes collide.
He turns serious and says, “One month. He gets to live one more month and then he’s mine to kill.”
“Good,” I muse, still enthralled by his lips.
Bruno stalks toward me and cups the side of my face. “This will give us enough time to plan a wedding and get married.”
I don’t have time to think over his statement because he crashes his mouth to mine, letting me drift off in pleasure he floods my body with. Thoughts and worry evaporate. For now. Because I know all too well reality can come crashing back at any second.
CHAPTER FIVE
Three weeks later
– BRUNO –
“You just like dressing up, admit it.” Torin chuckles and throws a peanut into his mouth.
“Stop eating the damn peanuts. The whole room reeks of that shit,” Rhyes grumbles and checks his tuxedo in the long mirror.
“Watch it, or I’ll wipe my hands on your jacket.” Torin throws another peanut in his mouth and checks his phone. “What time will Emmet be back with Winter?”
“When the dress she liked is ready.” I turn to glance at my side posture. “Emmet texted to let me know she’s less fussy than I am. Picked one at first glance but the shop owner said it needed little tweaks.”
Torin isn’t kidding, I like dressing up. And having a tuxedo made for my wedding is something I take my time for. I always take time for new suits; outer appearance is important in my world. Though the clothes are just the wrapping, giving it the final touch so to say. Attitude, history, the common knowledge not to fuck with us is reflected by how we handle situations.
It’s been awhile since I had to wash my hands in blood, but I’ve been craving it for a long damn time. The blood needs to be Ridge’s, but I have to wait a little longer for that to happen. For now I have to settle for someone else’s since one of my capos has been running a very lucrative business on the side, undermining my authority.
“How is the wife to be? Less fussy in all ways?” Rhyes snickers.
Less fussy. I’ve had people avoiding me for many reasons, but this woman has crafted ignoring me to perfection. Either that or she’s consumed with her art. And I should be thrilled she leaves me alone, but it bugs the shit out of me.
“How the fuck would I know?” I grumble, frustration getting the better of me.
“Have you seen some of the things she made?” Torin questions.
“No.” I shrug out of the jacket. “You know damn well the shit I had to handle the last few weeks.”
Meetings, reading through contracts, phone calls, it’s not as if I can sit back and enjoy the city lights. But truth is, I’ve been ignoring her too. The few kisses we shared make me want to feed my cock into her pussy and take her hard.
She’s a damn virgin and with a wedding set I’m sticking to the traditions of showing the bloody sheets. Rubbing it in the faces of my men how I have a new wife who is worthy, innocent, pure, and no one else has touched her since she’s mine to taint in all fucking ways.
“You didn’t even stroll into her art studio once?” Rhyes questions. “Hell, I have and it blew me away.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to sell her art?” Torin raises one of his eyebrows. “She completed three pieces I could sell for a few grand each without any effort.”
“I thought I ordered you to stash them in the basement and transfer the cash into her bank account.”
“They shouldn’t be eating dust in the basement. Like I said, I could easily–”
“I said no,” I growl.
Torin holds his hands palms up. “Fine.”
I don’t want anything from her leaving my damn house. I can’t explain the possessiveness roaring through my veins when it comes to this woman, but I’m the fucking boss and I don’t have to explain my actions; orders need to be seen through instead of being questioned.
“We done here?” I snap.
“Tuxes are fine, so I guess we’re done,” Rhyes quips. “Are you ready to question Caleb’s son?”
My head flashes his way. “Did you manage to track him down?”
These past few weeks we’ve been gathering more information about Caleb and we found out his son has been delegating most of the activities involving the extortion of business owners. These business owners pay us for protection since these streets would be roaming with drugs and petty crime if we didn’t interfere.
It’s a powerplay. But we also know businesses need to be running healthy enough so they can pay us. And with the shit Caleb and his son are doing, they are basically draining them dry so the business owners are barely keeping their head above water. It’s fucking insane and disrespectful.
Good thing I don’t need any consent to handle my business, not when it comes to something concerning my men and my territory.
“We have him comfortably waiting for us.” Rhyes grins.
I head for the changing room while I grumble, “Why the fuck are we still standing around here for then?”
Both men laugh while we each quickly change and leave the tuxedos with the tailor for the final tweaks. The wedding will take place in a week and to be honest, it couldn’t come sooner.
It doesn’t matter if Winter is avoiding me because she consumes my every thought. I’m even twisted enough to admit I’ve palmed my cock while glancing at the picture I took when she was standing naked on that damn soapbox before I bought her.
I grab my phone and call her. I gave her number a special ringtone but the damn woman hasn’t called me either. I took the phone away from her the first week when I found out she’d been chatting with Coral about us. I told her she had to earn it back. I guess this might have been the start as to why she’s been avoiding me. But if there’s anything I value it’s loyalty, and the privacy of our personal business.
Coral is Dreamer’s old lady. Dreamer is the enforcer of an MC which means their loyalty is of the same kind and they won’t have any fucking secrets between them. I won’t tolerate them getting in my business since Coral was the one who urged them to save Winter. She’s mine and I am not looking to add more enemies to the list I already have.
“Why are you calling?” Winter grumbles.
“I will be gone for the rest of the day,” I snap back.
Her voice sounds filled with disappointment when she merely says, “Oh. Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
Normally I wouldn’t even call since I don’t owe anyone anything but I actually miss her when I think of how she drained the anger out of me the night we came home. The night I made her a sandwich and kissed her.
It’s for this reason I tell her, “Don’t eat dinner. I’ll make sure to be home in time to make us a sandwich.”
“The one you made weeks ago? With the pickles?” Her voice now takes a turn toward excitement. “I’ve been trying to make one myself but it doesn’t taste the same, I think I’m missing some ingredients. You need to share your recipe.”
“I don’t share anything, Winter. You should know that by now.”
She sighs into the phone and grumbles, “Fine. I’ll just observe you like a hawk, whatever.”
“Noted. I’ll make sure to distract you so you won’t be able to observe
my every move.”
“Noted,” she replies in a voice that mimics mine.
“I have to go. Business.”
“Okay, have a great time chopping off heads, cutting off fingers, and hitting toes with a hammer,” she quips, making the corner of my mouth twitch.
“Have a great time at the bridal shop. And stay close to Emmet.”
“We’re having coffee. They needed to do something and then we’re returning for one final fitting in about three hours.” She goes silent and I imagine her biting her lip.
“What is it, Winter?” I question, knowing she nibbles her bottom lip if something is up because I did in fact watch her like a hawk the moments she couldn’t avoid me over the past few weeks.
“Can I go shopping without Emmet?”
“No,” I instantly reply, but my curiosity gets the better of me when I wonder, “Why would you need to?”
Only silence greets me.
“Why, Winter?” I snap.
“I want to buy special panties, okay?” she says in a mixture of anger and frustration.
“You have a catalogue where you ordered stuff from in the first few days since you arrived.”
“It’s not the same, I want to see with my own eyes and feel the fabric before I buy something I’m wearing on my wedding day. And I know none of this holds any value to you but I’m not used to ordering and buying and this will be the only time I get married and panties freaking matter, dammit.”
“I’ll take you myself tomorrow. Emmet will join us but will stay outside of the store, how does that sound?”
“Like you want to test and approve my freaking panties,” she grumbles.
I can’t help it, a bark of laughter rips from me because she’s damn close to the truth. And the giggle slipping from her makes my cock harder than the thought of her in silk panties. This woman is better than the one I imagined when I made a list of the perfect woman I wanted. Such a surprise and never reacting or responding how I expect her to.
She clears her throat. “It’s a date. Both making me a sandwich, and helping me pick out panties.”
A date. I’ve never dated in all my life but I guess when it comes to Winter, change might be a way to get closer to her. Because the weeks of ignoring and avoiding me leaves a feeling of unease I’m not liking one bit. And seeing my brother grow due to his connection with his woman is something I unwillingly crave as well.
“It’s a date,” I murmur huskily.
There’s a tiny gasp of surprise and an added, “okay” on a whisper before she hangs up on me.
When I stalk out of the changing room I stumble into two impatient looking men.
“I thought you were in a hurry,” Torin says as he checks his watch to emphasize his words.
“I called Winter to let her know I’ll be home late.”
Both their eyebrows head for the ceiling.
“I want my enemies to fear me, but my damn wife shouldn’t fear or steer clear of me. She should be confident in building up a friendship and not fucking avoid me. Which means I have to change some and this is me changing.”
“Well, if I take a wife, I’m not fucking changing,” Torin grumbles.
Rhyes takes in our reaction and faces Torin. “The man has experience with different fucked-up relationships. Wives, mistresses, whores, whatever. Leave him be and pay attention so you’ll learn something.”
Torin snickers, “Let’s see if he keeps this one alive first.”
I know it’s a joke. He knows it’s a joke. Rhyes knows it’s a fucking joke. But the gun pressing against Torin’s temple shows I’m not fucking laughing.
“Sorry, boss. I didn’t mean any disrespect,” Torin rushes out his words.
I slowly let my arm go down and tuck the gun away, my death glare still pinning him in place. I know damn well my wife is dead and I’m the one responsible. Even if we weren’t compatible in any way. Hell, months of fucking didn’t result in a pregnancy, that should have shown we weren’t a good match.
So, you might say it’s a sore point in every way and something I would like to put behind me. Especially when the mere thought of Winter getting hurt–or worse dying–makes my chest constrict painfully.
“I can see she’s different, not to compare her with the others but, also how you’re reacting.” Torin studies the floor. “I shouldn’t have made the joke. It was a bad one.”
And that’s just it, sometimes the three of us are more like solid friends instead of me being their boss. Fine lines easy to cross and sometimes they can, but not when it comes to Winter. And Torin might be surprised at my reaction, but I damn well surprised myself along with it.
“Let’s blow off some steam. It’s clear we all could use it, don’t you think?” Rhyes offers.
We all nod and head out. Time to squeeze some information out of Caleb’s son and get to the bottom of what the hell his father thinks he’s doing.
It’s a thirty minute drive. I own a lot of different property scattered all over the US. And some are warehouses like the one we are arriving at now. On the outside it looks normal and on the inside there are different rooms set up for different reasons.
Either a plain one with a desk fit to handcuff someone to it–for a one-on-one interrogation–or one covered in plastic for easy disposal when we get bloody with torturing. This because we run into many issues that need different approaches.
The room Caleb Junior is held captive in, needless to say, is the one with the plastic. We have enough proof linked to him, and I’m not one to simply accept an excuse and be done with it. These guys willingly fucked me over, aware of the consequences. And what message would it give to others if I simply forgive them and move on? Right, they’d all fuck me over. Hence the zero tolerance.
“You watching or participating?” Torin questions.
“You two are watching,” I simply state.
I head for the small changing room in the back. Brand new sweatpants along with a shirt and shoes sit on a chair in the corner. I take my time to change–making sure my suit doesn’t wrinkle–before I stroll into the room where Caleb Junior is in.
He’s gagged and strapped to a chair. The soldier who was standing guard strolls out, leaving the four of us inside. There’s a bucket with a broad range of tools for me to use, but in reality I’m a very simple man. So, I grab the surgical blade and step closer.
“CJ, CJ, CJ. Been quite the busy man, haven’t you?” I chuckle and tilt my head. “I have a few questions you’re going to answer.”
His eyes are spitting fire and I might not know the guy all that well but I have met him a few times and I most certainly know the damn type. Cocky, arrogant, thinking he knows everything and can do what he wants without consequences. The fun part? These guys weep and cry for their mummy at the first sight of their own blood.
I rip off the gag and CJ immediately starts to swear and spits out the words, “My father is going to fucking kill you if you lay one hand on me.”
“I’ll get to your father after I’ve handled you. Now, as for my questions. First one. Whose idea was it?”
“What fucking idea?” CJ snarls.
Like I said, cocky. Not thinking twice I flash my arm up and down to let the blade slide into his left leg. His delightful scream is one of horror as he watches me pull the blade out.
I point it in his face–blood dripping down–as I calmly say, “Do not waste my time. You damn well know what I’m talking about.”
His eyes narrow and he tries to fucking spit at me. Without thinking I swipe his face, making his smile a little bigger. The cut goes from the corner of his mouth to mid-cheek. Blood is now flowing down his jaw.
“Whose. Idea?” I repeat.
“Your time is ticking away,” he growls, bloody spit spraying around. “Won’t be long now until a new boss arises.”
“A new boss, eh?” I give a slow shake of my head. “Let me guess, your father I presume.”
His eyes fill with glee and it makes me aware it’s n
ot his father. Fury slams into me and is now fueling the rage racing through my veins. Connecting dots is actually one thing flowing into another, making it one big fucking dot and it’s got Ridge fucking Blacksson written all over it.
“I see,” I murmur and let the blade clatter to the floor. “I guess senator Blacksson thinks he’ll get to live longer than he’s allowed to. That’s okay, people can dream . . . until I rip them into awareness and show them the benefits of a fucking nightmare.”
CJ tries to laugh and resumes his efforts to hit me with his bloody spit. “Time for a change is coming. He’s more worthy to rule than you are. He’s going to be the one putting money in our pockets instead of handing it all over to you.”
“Stupid fuck,” I mutter underneath my breath and place a flat hand on his forehead, gripping his hair. “No one will ever take my place. Except for my future son.”
I grab his jaw and with force rip it down at an unnatural angle, keeping his head pinned with my other hand, to dislocate his jaw. The result is pain for the fucker who thinks it’s normal to believe lies someone is spewing.
“Nice,” Rhyes quips. “It’s been damn long since he used that move. I guess the time for questioning is done.”
“Sure is,” Torin agrees.
I ignore everyone–including CJ who is loud in making his pain known, even with a dislocated jaw–and stalk to the bucket to snatch a hammer.
“You know,” I start. “I’m going to retrieve all the money you stole and give it back. It’s a fucking system you messed with. There’s a wall of trust built stone by fucking stone and if you take shit out it fucking crumbles.”
I lash out and hit his jaw with the hammer and relish in the sound of bones crushing. His knee is next but the fucker starts to howl and spits blood. I grab his shirt and throw it over his head to hold back most of the spatter. I’m not done yet. This shit is better than any workout or anger management.
I take another swing, hitting him in the shoulder and making the chair tip so the asshole crashes to the floor, head first. I kick the shoulder I just hit to make him land on his back instead of staying on his side. Stepping over him, I take the hammer in both of my hands and let it impact with his brain, over and over again.
