by Addy Archer
In this moment I’m not staring at the man who took my virginity. The man who gave me a few brilliant and warm smiles, and kisses me as if he wants to consume me. No. Way. This? This is a mafia boss. One who clearly doesn’t need soldiers to do his dirty work because he seems to relish in slaughtering this person.
Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention. Someone is inching toward us. Bruno glances over my shoulder and sees me standing there but the man closing in on Bruno has a gun in his hand. His arm comes up. I have no clue who he is. I’ve never seen him around and it might be one of the guards but why would he raise his gun?
Oh, shit. He’s going to kill Bruno. My finger pulls the trigger at the same time Bruno’s eyes widen in shock. I keep pulling the trigger while Bruno jumps to the side and glances behind him to see the man–who is now dead on the ground–behind him.
I’m still pointing the gun but my hand is shaking. Torin is suddenly at my side and takes the gun from me. Bruno is standing in front of me, shrugging out of his shirt and wiping his hands with the inside before he throws it on the ground and cups my face.
“Oh, ew, your hands,” I squeak and step back. “Shower first, you dirty man.”
Torin barks out a laugh. “Did I mention I like this one?”
I shoot him a glare and grumble, “About the same time you mentioned something about keeping me alive.”
“I really thought you were going to shoot Bruno when I stepped outside,” Torin states, all signs of humor gone.
“You and me both,” Bruno mutters underneath his breath.
“What?” I gasp. “I would never–” I stop throwing out words due to shock when anger surges through me. “You two really fucking think I’d kill him? Great. Thanks for the confidence and trust, guys.”
“Whoah, you pulled Caleb apart there, boss,” Emmet says in awe as he steps out of the house.
He glances at all our faces while I keep a hard look in place. Fuck them. To think I finally found my place; found my family. I spin on my heels and head for the bedroom I was in when I arrived here weeks ago.
I hear Bruno mutter curses and bellow, “Now just wait a fucking minute.”
Right. He gets to be angry. Awesome. I also hear Emmet and Torin call out to him and I hope they keep him there and handle the shit that just happened, because I don’t want to face him right now. Good thing I’m not holding the gun anymore since I really feel like shooting him in the balls. Asshole.
I slam the door shut behind me and walk straight into the bathroom. I turn on the water and let it heat while I take off all my clothes. Clothes I need to burn later. Burn. Ouch. I hiss when I drag my shirt over my head. Dammit, due to the anger running through my body the pain from my wound was shoved to the background.
I step underneath the shower and let the water flow down my arm, closing my eyes tight while clenching my teeth to prevent myself from crying out. Shit, that hurts. In the back of my mind I hear a faint voice calling my name. Bruno. Screw him.
I throw my head back and let the water wash over me, wondering what I did in my life to deserve one fucked-up thing after another. Those fleeting moments with my aunt–enjoying the late night sun–were special. But with working three jobs I didn’t even have time to catch my breath or make friends. And if I try to remember my parents, I’m not even sure if they are real memories or created ones from the pictures my aunt showed and told me about.
A sob threatens to rip from my throat but I swallow it down. No pity. I refuse to feel sorry for myself by reminiscing on all the shitty things. Survive. Live. No regrets. My life slogan automatically flows through my head and I rip my head out of the water and take a deep breath.
Screw everyone; being alone means no responsibilities, hence the no regrets, right?
“I should have fucking shot him. Right in the damn balls,” I grumble and reach for the shampoo bottle, gasping loud when I stare at Bruno who is holding the bottle for me to take.
His eyes are spitting fire when he says, “I do hope you don’t mean my damn balls, because then we’re going to have a big problem. One that’s going to be solved with you going over my knee and my palm hitting your fine ass until you scream how sorry you are.”
“Fuck you,” I snap. “And fuck your damn balls.”
I rip the bottle from his hand and am about to squirt some shampoo on my hand when my wrist is in Bruno’s tight grip.
“Fuck, you’re hurting.” His voice sounds as if he’s the one in pain.
“None of your concern,” I hiss and rip my wrist from his grip.
All while I quickly scan him over and the whole being pissed and hating him is put on hold because I have to know, “You are hurt too, right? I mean, that’s why I followed your asshole-ass in the first place because I saw the blood trail.”
“Fucking hell, woman. Don’t ever follow a blood trail. You stay where you are next time until I come and get you, or you stay with Torin, dammit.”
My upper lip twitches with anger. “Duly noted. Glad to know what to do next time.” I make sure to emphasize the next time part, because in all seriousness . . . next time? Ugh. Wife of a mafia boss. The understanding now dawns on me and it makes me blurt, “The money deal you mentioned in the contract the first time was hazardous money. I’m now thinking it should have been included in the one we have now too.”
“We’re beyond the contract,” Bruno growls low.
A laugh escapes me, though it sounds hollow. “Right.”
“I’m fucked-up, okay? But I have many reasons not to trust women. You’re different. I absolutely trust you or I would never had shared so many details and information with you. Or would have slept along with you in my bed. But in that fucking moment. A damn split-second in time where I only see you, aiming a gun at me. Right. Fucking. At. Me. I couldn’t believe what my brain was processing, okay? Not when you pulled the trigger and shot the guy behind me who wanted to kill me.”
“Nice visual. I was there, remember? I saw what happened with my own eyes and your words don’t take away the fact that you doubted me. You don’t trust me, so it doesn’t make it any different,” I stubbornly tell him.
I know his reasoning, know what he went through, and yet it still feels like he ripped out my heart and danced the lambada on it.
“I made my wife drink the fucking poison.” Bruno’s eyes are piercing through me as if I’m not standing here. As if he’s locked in a memory he continues, “I walked into the room and she suddenly had two glasses in her hand, casually offering me one. I have the habit of taking the glass not offered to me, but this time I was too fucking tired so I took the one she offered. I knew right then by the look on her face something was up. I said we should toast, and have her take a fucking sip, but she suddenly didn’t feel like drinking. Wanting to throw the liquid away. Then she started to rattle how she didn’t have a choice, how Ridge forced her to poison me. I was so fucking furious. I made her drink the poison. And due to fucking shame I didn’t want anyone to know I made her drink the poison she prepared for me. How could I let her live if she wanted to kill me? And the shame I felt was because Ridge got close enough to make my own wife almost succeed in killing me. So, instead I let everyone believe it was a mix-up, how she drank the poison someone intended for me. Close enough to the fucking truth.”
Bruno hangs his head as sadness starts to burn in my chest. Loneliness is a burden many carry in different ways. Mine is different from Bruno’s and yet we share a hole dug by screwed-up shit in the past. Balancing on the edge and wondering if life is going to push us in or keep digging the hole deeper.
“You need to wash my hair,” I croak. “I can’t because my arm is hurting.”
His shoulders sag in relief, eyes warming with a hint of adoration as he sweetly replies, “Yes, ma’am.”
There are many things to say and yet there are no words needed. The both of us know mistakes in the past aren’t a guarantee to be watchful and have success in the future. But we do heed the warning
and will adjust to do better next time. He a little less assholish, me . . . I guess I need to become a better shooter because the next time I might not have enough bullets.
Next time.
I guess I should be glad there is a next time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
– BRUNO –
“He came to my house. My fucking home. Gun raised and spitting bullets to kill. And you dare to tell me I had to keep him alive?” I seethe.
I keep staring at my phone–that’s on speaker–laying on my desk while I have my hands placed beside it. If I would be holding the damn thing I’d crush it. I am beyond pissed. Rimmer thought it was a smart thing to call me because he heard a rumor Caleb was heading over to talk to me.
Rumor my fucking ass. Rimmer is working with Ridge to make sure I’m either dead or gone so Ridge can take my place, earning him a chance to become boss of all bosses. Fat fucking chance both will get what they want.
“Yes,” Rimmer says with enough patience to make a snake fall asleep. “You were under direct orders–”
That’s all he’s able to voice because my finger finds the end call button.
I let my gaze find Torin. “I’m aware it’s the middle of the night, but start calling the other bosses, New York first. Explain what is going on and give them the evidence except Winter’s conversation and confrontation. I want to keep that in case they fuck us over and think of a way to sweet-talk away all the stuff we have once it’s out in the open.”
“On it, boss,” Torin says and heads out to make the calls.
Rhyes glances at the door and back at me. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take a soldier with you and head over to the clubhouse of Rebel Rage MC. There’s always some prospect awake to take a message. Ask Alaric to meet me here at ten in the morning along with his VP. Let them bring their old ladies along too, it will be good for Winter to meet them. There’s something I have to discuss with my brother and I want it off the record.”
“On it,” Rhyes grunts and heads out.
Emmet raises his eyebrow at me. “Any job left for me?”
“I think you earned some rest after doing most of the dragging and burying what was left of bodies, don’t you think?”
Emmet shoots me a grin. “Right. But I thought I’d offer anyway, being polite and all.”
“Just keep an eye out. I know Caleb and most of his men are dead, and Ridge is still out of the country. But sitting back and relaxing is too much of a risk with everything that just happened.”
He nods at my words. “Absolutely. I’ve already double checked the security cameras and will do an extra round before I retire for the night. Four soldiers are keeping watch.”
“Thanks, Emmet,” I grunt and check the time on my phone. Four AM. “I’m heading to bed. See you in a couple of hours.”
I stroll out of my office and head for my bedroom. A yawn slips from me and I’m dead on my damn feet. I hate leaving Winter alone after we took a shower and I tucked her into bed, but I had stuff to take care of. Mainly getting rid of the dead bodies and making sure the house was cleaned.
Then the call from Rimmer came in and now I’m in a foul mood. I should probably crash on the couch because I don’t want to fuck it up again with Winter. We came too close to losing one another mere hours ago. Either one could have been killed or in the sense of her not forgiving me in that split-second where I thought she was aiming her gun at me.
Deep down I knew she’d never kill me. Yes, everyone has their limits and motivation to live and do things but Winter is a rare soul. You can see it in her gorgeous eyes that really look at you. She’s lived a hard life and because of it she has value of things others assume a normality.
But it also makes her aware good things can crumble at any second. And the things we talked about during the shower and when I carefully tended to her wound and tucked her to bed, it’s also the insecurity of not belonging. Another thing I damaged with a split-second thought of doubt.
She belongs here, with me. People cross paths for a reason and we were always meant to collide and follow a path in unison. She’s mine. I stare at her sleeping face, still showing bruises she obtained due to me. Hell, she’s in my life a few weeks and the things she had to endure would make a lot of women run off screaming–or worse.
Not Winter. More proof she’s meant to be by my side. Taking a gun in hand in a life or death situation and pulling the trigger when needed. To fucking save me. Me. The man who bought her at an auction and offered her a contract.
It’s all in the past because we moved passed it. Equal grounds, that’s where we’re standing. And as long as my heart keeps beating I will make sure she knows it too. I will make her feel worthy, welcome, trusted, adored, belonged. Fucking loved.
And I might have only now come to the realization that I love this woman because the feeling rising deep inside me when I look at her cannot be described as anything else. It’s a foreign feeling but one I welcome since it involves this strong woman.
She stirs and I make fast work to shed my clothes and get into the bed with her. Pulling her close, she snuggles against my chest and it makes me feel as if I’m standing on top of this fucked-up world. I press my nose into her hair, inhaling her scent. Instant calmness flows through my veins, centering me and I surrender to a few hours of peaceful sleep.
The first thought running through my head when I open my eyes is to make sure my woman is still here with me. Tightening my arm I feel her weight and warmth pressing against me and it makes me sigh in contentment.
Her hand starts to linger and a moan rumbles through me when she starts to spread kisses over my chest. I hold her tight as I roll us over so I’m on top of her. Hair spread wild around her gorgeous face and those magical eyes staring at me are making me feel worthy.
“You’re mine. So fucking beautiful and precious in all ways,” I tell her, lust strengthening each word.
Her hand cups the side of my face and I close my eyes, leaning into the warmth she freely gives me.
“Samesies,” she says, mischief dancing in her gaze when my eyes flash open and notice how her cheeks are heating.
A chuckle flows over my lips. “That word again.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
“Demanding,” I murmur. “I like it.”
My mouth crashes against hers and I relish in the way she freely opens up and lets me dominate her mouth. Her hips start to grind against my hard on and with the both of us naked the head of my cock flawlessly finds its way between her folds.
“Sore?” I question against her lips.
“Shut up and fuck me.” Words I love to hear tumble from my woman’s mouth.
My hips surge forward and I groan in pleasure. “So wet for me.”
“It’s the piercing. Feels so good.” A heated gasp flows next to my ear when she buries her head in the crook of my neck, her nails digging into my back to urge me on.
Sliding out and right back inside her tight pussy gives the both of us the benefit of the piercing. Best decision ever and all for this woman because after welcoming Winter inside my heart, there will be no other.
I place a hand on her thigh and stroke her skin, gripping under her knee to lift her leg and curl it around my waist. This allows me to slide in deeper, not at all minding the hiss due to the bite of pleasure mixed with pain it gives her. Mainly because her hips meet my every thrust; she enjoys it as much as me.
Her pussy starts to squeeze me tighter, her breaths heating my neck as she moans my name when she comes. The rapid waves strangle my cock–demanding surrender–as I give her my all.
Burying myself to the hilt, I let her name fall from my lips as white-hot pleasure consumes my body.
“If you’re going to wake me like this every day, I’d be one happy wife,” she sighs.
A chuckle rips from me. “I aim to please.”
“You aim to pleasure with that piercing,” she moans when my cock slides out.
“No other woma
n has felt that piercing, so I can honestly say it’s all for you.”
The spark of happiness in her eyes is evident, making my chest tighten. I give her a lingering kiss before I drag my body off the bed. Taking a glance at the clock I notice there’s a little over an hour left before Alaric should be here.
“We should get dressed. You’re going to meet my brother and his wife and a few of their friends,” I tell her and head for the bathroom.
She rushes in after me. “Alaric is coming here? Have you been thinking of what I mentioned?”
“I have.” I turn the shower on and pull her flush against me. “And I think your suggestion was a good one so I set things in motion.”
“I can’t wait to meet them,” she gushes.
My eyes stay locked on her face, taking in her beaming smile.
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t think I can go again. It feels like my body showed your cock every corner of my pussy.”
My head tips back and laughter rips out. “You sure are something.”
She gives me a knowing smirk and starts to clean her body. We waste over thirty minutes in the shower but it’s all worth it. And I make a mental note to spend way more time with my woman in the near future.
First we need to take care of a few things. New issues will always be thrown in our way, but normally we keep a handle on it. Yesterday was the first time since I became the boss that someone was stupid enough to come and try to kill me in my own damn house. And I’ve been the boss for many years.
So, like I said, the whole “life and death, bullets flying around our ears,” isn’t a normality. And I’ll make sure my woman will also see the benefits of being the boss’ wife. I want to pamper her and shower her with gifts, but I realize she wouldn’t care about touchable items.
This woman is all about actions and emotions. A thought hits me and I quickly shoot a message to Torin to set things in motion for the art that shouldn’t be wasting away in the basement.
