Connelly Crime Family Trilogy

by Winters, KB

  “Explain.”

  He didn’t want to. I could tell by the defiant lift of his chin and the way he sat just a little taller.

  “It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

  “Bullshit. You want to know what I’m doing to pay off your debt? Do you Dad?”

  He shook his head and snorted.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Tell me why, according to the bank, you have hundreds of thousands of dollars from several banks right here in town?”

  “Casinos and underground gaming rooms need cash. When I couldn’t pay the last few times, I took out loans for Connelly, the old man, not Eamon. They pay the loans back on time, and I don’t know why they do it this way, only that they do.”

  “And you couldn’t do that this time?”

  He shook his head, disappointment radiating off of him in waves.

  “Too much already, bank wouldn’t approve another until some of these are paid off.”

  I stared at the man who’d raised me, the man who was supposed to love and protect me and shook my head. I had no words for what I felt. I took a deep breath and nodded. I needed to get out of this place. Away from Dad, away from my thoughts and away from Eamon Connelly.

  “I have to go.”

  “I’m sorry, Layla. Forgive me.”

  I froze at his words and turned back to my father whose entire body had been swamped by fear. The anguish in his eyes was real and I knew he was hurting inside and that hurt me. But I also knew that a quick mention of some action and his guilt would blow out the door with me.

  “I’ll do what I can, Daddy.”

  “That’s all I can ask.”

  I slammed the door behind me, dammit. Angry that he was making me feel sorry for him when I was the one selling my ass to a fucking gangster.

  Albeit, a gangster who was a magician when it came to giving a woman pleasure.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Eamon

  I paced in my kitchen, my phone on speaker, listening to my cousin give me an update.

  “You really think we have to worry about those Milano assholes?”

  I couldn’t believe they’d put on an underground game that rivaled ours. We had the hottest chicks Rocket had to offer, stole a few from Vegas, San Francisco and even plenty of the Hollywood and Porn Valley castoffs.

  Rourke sighed, the sound filled with tension and frustration. “Hell no, we don’t have to worry, Eamon, but it’s not a bad idea to keep an eye on them. Watch their moves.”

  And that was classic Rourke, a fucking champion chess player who saw ten moves ahead of everyone else.

  “Plus those fuckers can’t be trusted and I want to be prepared this time.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. A few years before Rourke’s father was killed in jail, he’d crossed the Milanos and his mother, Aunt Fiona, was the one who’d paid the price.

  “Anything you need, man, just say the word.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  That was it. A simple word of gratitude and my cousin Rourke was ready to move on.

  “Shae can’t stop talking about that space he found, but I know that parking lot addition was all you.”

  I laughed. “Baby brother needs a win and it’s no skin off my back to give it to him.”

  “Nice of you, but damn he’s annoying.”

  We shared a laugh over just how ridiculous Shae could be. As the classic youngest child, he was a goofball and a jokester. Make no mistake, he took his work for the family seriously but that was about it.

  “Uncle is happy though.”

  “And that’s why we do this.”

  A beep sounded to let me know I had a visitor, which was odd since I didn’t do business at my house and I wasn’t expecting company.

  “Hang on Rourke, someone’s here.”

  The silence between us changed. Charged the way it did when you lived a life like ours.

  “Expecting company?”

  “No.”

  I was on alert, watching the surveillance cameras that covered the house and the surrounding land and seeing nothing.

  “I’ll send some men.”

  “No! Not necessary.”

  “How can you be sure? Don’t be a fucking hero, Eamon.”

  There on my doorstep was a beautiful blonde vision looking like a sexy librarian in a skintight skirt and a blouse that perfectly outlined her tits.

  “Not being a hero, Rourke. The company is female.”

  Rourke scoffed. “And females are safe? How’d she find you?” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on me, mostly because it was no secret that Rourke didn’t get serious about women. Ever. He gave them a night, maybe two and then he moved on. Names and faces forgotten.

  “Nope. But this particular female is known. And welcome.” His deep chuckle sounded in my ear as I made my way to the front door, feeling happy as fuck I’d sent my staff home for the day so I could work.

  “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Let me know if you run into another Milano game.”

  I was eager to see what those motherfuckers came up with, how much they’d stolen from us.

  “Worried about me, cuz?”

  I barked out a laugh. “I want in on the fucking action when you finally snap.” The last thing I heard was Rourke’s laugh, loud and amused as the call ended. I pulled open the front door as I slid the phone in my back pocket. “Couldn’t wait until tonight?”

  Layla glared at me, green eyes so dark they were damn near black but all I could focus on was the way her tits rose and fell under her blouse. She was breathing hard; her skin was flushed and the fire burning in her eyes threatened to burn down the house.

  “You forgot to mention that it was only forty grand Dad owed you this time, Eamon.”

  Ah, she was angry, which meant she wanted to do the thing I hated most. Talk.

  “Do any of the other times matter, Layla?”

  “You know they do!” She got in my face and thought better of it, taking two steps back but I wouldn’t allow it, I got right in her face right back.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Wasn’t my place to say, princess.”

  “Bullshit. You just didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why would I? Those debts have been satisfied, which means they are none of your concern.”

  I didn’t talk family business with women. Ever. And I never would.

  “It’s my concern if you think you can fuck me to pay off the rest of my father’s debts!”

  I arched a brow at her acidic words. “Not having a good time, princess?”

  “That’s not the point!”

  “Seems to me it’s the only point. At least the only one I’m willing to talk about. Your father is an adult and he knows what he signed up for. If you have questions, then you should probably ask him.”

  Her little fists moved from her sides up under her tits as she crossed her arms and glared at me.

  “I’m asking you.” Her face was determined, just like the set of her shoulders, and her tapping foot.

  “Then you’re asking the wrong person.”

  The space between us shrank until we were face to face, her angry and me horny as fuck.

  “Any other questions or do you want me to make you scream?”

  With a self-satisfied grin on her face, Layla looked at me, opened her mouth and then she screamed. It was loud and primal, almost a horror movie scream. As quickly as the scream started it was over.

  “Happy?” She asked.

  “Not what I had in mind but if it got you sorted, I’m happy. Did it?”

  The last thing I wanted was for my uncomplicated sex to become another complication.

  “No, dammit! Why won’t you answer my questions?”

  I took a step forward and blocked her attempt to leave, placing both hands on either side of her head. “I won’t answer, Layla, because it is none of your fucking business.”

  She gasped and pushed at my chest. “Right,
I forgot.”

  She kept pushing until I relented and moved.

  “Silly me. I’m out of here!”

  Goddammit this was exactly why I didn’t deal with women outside the bedroom. Too fucking emotional. Too irrational. “I expect you back here tonight,” I called after her and my words were met with an erect middle finger that made me laugh.

  Layla was what Patrick would call a firecracker and even that little exchange got my dick hard and aching, throbbing to slid into her wet goodness again. Tonight would come soon enough and if Layla thought she could skip tonight because she was upset, then we’d pick up where we left off tomorrow.

  I was a fucking Connelly and I always got what I wanted.

  One way or another.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Layla

  I was angry and out of sorts because both Dad and Eamon were doing a damn good job of playing two idiots. I needed to disconnect for a while, to get away from everyone and everything in my life so I turned off my phone right outside of Eamon’s place and I drove.

  At first I just drove around the streets of Rocket, gazing at the peaks of the Sierra Nevada in the distance. Usually, I barely glanced at the majestic mountains when my gaze landed on them in one of my mirrors but today, I took in the details. The sharp points and steep dips between the beasts, the snowcapped tips. The range was more beautiful than I ever gave it credit for and it was just the kind of scenery I needed to soothe my racing mind.

  Dad was in debt. Major fucking debt and it was all the fault of the Connelly mobsters. Okay yeah, Dad bore some responsibility, too, but dammit he had a problem and they were predators, preying on weaker animals and taking what they could before discarding the carcass. But that wasn’t even what had my foot pressing down on the gas. It was the fact that I’d used my body to pay off his debt and it likely wouldn’t be the last time he racked up tens of thousands of dollars worth of gambling debts.

  What would I do then? Definitely not what I was doing now, no matter how enjoyable Eamon made our encounters. It didn’t feel right. It made me feel dirty and worst of all, it made me feel like a prostitute, which meant the pleasure he gave my body wore off fast as the guilt and disgust crept in. All of this could have been a quick and pleasurable encounter, if it had a chance in hell of helping my dad, which I knew now, it wouldn’t.

  I still wasn’t sure how in the hell this arrangement helped Eamon, other than the fact he got four straight days of commitment free sex out of the deal. There was still the forty thousand dollars Dad owed, and no amount of earth-shattering sex would bring that money back. So really, what was the benefit of this for the infuriating man? He was gorgeous, powerful and rich so I was sure he had no shortage of women interested in warming his bed for a night or two. So what was his deal?

  I had nowhere to go when I reached the mountains but drove toward them anyway, another fruitless gesture that would lead me nowhere but provided a small measure of comfort.

  That comfort was short-lived though, as I noticed a sleek looking red car following me. Okay maybe not following me but the car had been behind me for miles, bypassing at least half a dozen exit ramps, rest stops, campsites, RV parks and other points of interest and it had stopped at none. Sure, neither had I but I was driving aimlessly and it was … not.

  Not that I thought I was so important that anyone would be following me, but right on the heels of that thought came another. What if the car had more guys my dad owed money to, thinking that a quick kidnapping might force him to pay up? Or worse, what if they wanted to kill me to show him they meant business? Neither of those scenarios worked out well for me, and I stepped on the gas.

  At first, I felt silly when the car stayed far behind me, making no attempt to split the distance between us. Then the car sped up but it was so slowly that I might have thought I imagined it, if not for the fact that when I turned onto a ramp that lead to a rest stop, so did the sleek red car.

  Without thinking twice, I hopped back to the on ramp and drove another few miles on the mostly deserted road, which suddenly seemed like a horrible idea, so I gunned it toward the next exit and swung around to make my way home.

  I had another night of carnal bliss ahead of me, and though Eamon was by no means a good guy, at least I knew exactly what he wanted. Just my body for a few hours.

  Nothing more.

  And I was okay with that because he felt so damn good.

  The red car appeared once more but the driver must have realized that the slow trickle of cars onto the freeway meant we were no longer alone. The downside was hella traffic on the way back to Rocket, but the upside was that I got to live for at least a few more hours.

  This thing with my dad had apparently brought out my optimistic side. Or something.

  Either way I was happy to head home even if I was less than happy about getting ready for another night with Eamon. Oh, I looked forward to the hours of bliss he provided, but tonight I just wanted to curl up in my pajamas, watch TV and drink some wine until I fell asleep on the sofa with the TV watching me. But that had to wait until next weekend.

  Tonight, I still had a debt to pay.

  Chapter Twenty

  Eamon

  Layla was late. She should’ve been here more than an hour ago yet here I sat on the sofa with a heavy crystal glass half full of whiskey in my hand. It was my third glass and so far, it hadn’t done shit to calm my nerves or soothe my anger.

  Not that I would blame Layla if she didn’t show up. She’d found out a lot of shit about her father’s problems and it surprised her. Terrified would be a more apt description, since I couldn’t seem to forget the despair in her eyes or the way the tears she fought so hard to keep restrained hovered on the edge of her eyelids. She’d been devastated to find out that this wasn’t the first time Peter had gotten himself into a deep hole he had no way in hell of getting out of. Surprisingly, I felt bad.

  Not for Pete, but for his clueless daughter who didn’t think twice about stepping in to help a man who didn’t fucking deserve it. Not one fucking bit. I didn’t deserve it either, but goddammit, I planned to reap all the benefits of having Layla in my bed, giving me the best, most enthusiastic sex of my fucking life.

  I was no better than her father, the only difference was that her curves and her sweet, hot cunt was my vice. Not gambling or booze or drugs, though I dabbled in all of them on occasion. But women. They were my vice. When I’d had a bad day or an especially brutal one, I’d find a woman and fuck her for hours and hours until the bloody faces stopped appearing every fucking time I closed my eyes.

  Some people might say I used those women, and I did, but there were no innocent victims in my bed. They all knew what they were getting into and what they could and couldn’t expect. Even Layla, for all her legitimate complaints was no innocent. She went into this arrangement for a very specific reason. She wasn’t being used here either. She was trying to be a fucking hero.

  And she was ninety fucking minutes late.

  We had a goddamn deal, four days and the debt was clear, and if I didn’t get my days, the debt would stand and Peter Michaels wouldn’t like what he’d have to do to pay it off. So I wasn’t worried.

  Anxious? Yeah.

  Pissed off? Damn straight.

  Worried? Fuck no.

  My dick though, he was getting a little worried because just like me, he couldn’t get enough of Layla and those sinful fucking curves that dared a man to give in to his most primal desires. When the security cameras showed the limo driving up the path I was on my feet, pacing the living room like a damned teenager.

  “What the fuck am I doing?” My desire for this woman was worrisome. I couldn’t remember the last time I wanted a woman the way I wanted Layla, my insatiable need for her driving me to do things I normally wouldn’t.

  The bell sounded and I stopped in my tracks and took two deep breaths before polishing off another glass of whiskey. Only when I had my shit under control did I pull open the door.

  �
��Thought maybe you changed your mind.”

  It was a piss poor excuse for a greeting, I knew, but I had to know.

  Layla shrugged and walked right by me in a pair of skintight jeans that showed off an ass she worked hard for, and thighs that were perfect for wrapping around my waist and sexy as fuck stilettos that I could only picture digging into my ass cheeks as I fucked her long and hard and deep.

  “I needed to clear my head.”

  “Did you?”

  “Mind making me a drink?” she asked instead of answering my question. “Whiskey neat is fine.”

  She eyed my glass and licked her lips, and just like that my feet were on the move and headed to the bar.

  “Got a preference?” I looked over my shoulder and sucked in a breath at the sight that greeted me. Fuck those skintight jeans that I ached to pull off because under that black leather jacket she wore a lacy pink top that cupped her tits magnificently. It was practically see-through, showing off a black bra, tons of cleavage, shoulders and chest. “Damn, girl.”

  “I prefer something strong. Make it a double.”

  “I don’t fuck drunk chicks,” I told her honestly.

  “And you won’t tonight, either.”

  The tension in the room was palpable. It was a living, breathing thing that sat in the room between us and made it impossible to even get a conversation started.

  I poured two and a half fingers of whiskey into another glass, refilled mine and handed one to Layla. “Rough day?”

  “Aren’t they all?” She accepted her drink and took a long sip as she went to the wall of windows that showed nothing but the dense darkness of the wooded area behind my house. A weighted sigh blew out of her and Layla took another sip. And then another.

  I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly about Layla that got my heart rate accelerated and kept my dick hard all night long, but fuck it was addictive. I went to her, standing behind her without touching. Something was different about her tonight and I couldn’t put my finger on it, but even her scent was different, lavender mixed with something, smelling of pure woman and sex.