Connelly Crime Family Trilogy

by Winters, KB

  Chapter Twenty - Two

  Margo

  “Oh fuck, Dad, why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  I’d been calling the old man for ten minutes and his phone just rang and rang.

  “Margo,” he finally sighed when I was just about to hang up. He sounded both relieved and happy to hear from me. “Where the hell have you been? That goddamn Daniel wouldn’t let me speak to you!”

  “That’s because we escaped. They took us down to Vegas, me and Rourke of the Connellys.” The line went silent for so long I thought maybe he had disconnected it. “Dad? Are you there?”

  “I’m here, sweet girl. Are you all right? Where are you?”

  I sighed as I looked around my room, the same room I’d been in since I got here, except last night when I sat up in a corner of Lorenzo’s room keeping my eye on the old geezer. All night. Taking his blood pressure. Pulse. Checking fluids. Doing what I could to keep him alive.

  “I’m all right, just a little banged up from the escape. Rourke drove us straight to his uncle’s house.” I didn’t want to give away too much until I knew more.

  “You’re with Patrick Connelly?” He sounded nervous and that immediately made me nervous.

  “Yeah, why?”

  Again Dad went silent and my anger began to boil over. “I asked you a question, Dad.”

  He blew out a long breath over the phone. “He’s a ruthless son of a bitch, but he has the man power to keep you safe right now. Safer than I can guarantee.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight and fought the urge to scream at the top of my lungs, but time had already proved there was no one I could count on to give a damn about me. “Trying to keep the business safe from Milano is using all of my men plus trusted contractors, Margo.”

  I fell back on the bed, staring up at the white ceiling with light gold designs in sweeping swirls. Even the beauty of this place didn’t help my mood—or my attitude. “So I should ignore the fact that the old Connelly bastard,” I sneered the old man’s name my own fucking father said so reverently, “pulled a gun on me, and the fact that both of his asshole sons threatened me with violence?”

  “Honey, please.”

  “No,” I whispered, even though I was pretty sure no one could hear our conversation. Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Connellys were listening in on the call. “You do whatever you have to do to protect the only thing you give a damn about, your business. I’ll do what I have to do to take care of myself. As always.”

  “Dammit, Margo have you no sense of self-preservation, girl? I’m trying to keep you safe.”

  “Bullshit. You’re trying to protect your money. Your business. Not me. None of this is about me yet here I am, stuck in the middle of some stupid shit I don’t know anything about, with no conceivable way out. Thanks for that.”

  “Stop whining, it’s beneath you,” he bit out.

  Why the hell I thought talking with the most selfish man on the planet was a good idea was beyond me.

  “Fuck you, old man. Not that you ever have before, but don’t worry about me.”

  Punching the fuck out of the End Call button, I longed for a big ass old school phone so I could slam it until it broke into a thousand different pieces. Instead, I tucked the offending phone in the front pocket of my jeans. Safekeeping.

  “I brought you some clothes.” The voice belonged to Ivy, a nice girl who’d somehow gotten mixed up with one of Rourke’s cousins, which told me she wasn’t too bright.

  “I have clothes, thanks.” It didn’t matter how nice the older housekeeper was or this woman or the other blonde they’d sent up; I didn’t trust any of these bitches.

  “You’ve been wearing those clothes since you got here. They’re about to walk right off your body.”

  “Until that happens, I’m fine.” I’d lost track of how long I’d been here. Two, maybe three days now. I hadn’t done more than do a quick rinse in the en suite bathroom because I didn’t trust any of them enough to be completely naked and vulnerable in this house. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

  She set the clothes, jeans and t-shirts from what I could see, on a chair and tilted her head to the side like she was the one who pitied me when she was the idiot who had willingly gotten caught up with the Irish mob. “Things don’t have to be—”

  “—I swear to God, if you try to make this into some silver fucking lining bullshit, I will throw you out the window. If you haven’t been kidnapped from your home and then kidnapped by the guy you helped escape, then you don’t know shit, and you can keep your opinions to yourself. Got it?”

  The light in her eyes dimmed a little but she nodded and flashed a small smile. “Okay. I’m only trying to help.”

  “That might be true and if it is, I’m sorry, but under the circumstances I can’t afford to trust you.”

  She gave another nod. “Okay Margo. If you change your mind let me know.”

  I wouldn’t, and we both knew it. I wanted to throw the clothes in her face, but she hurried out the door, measuring, I was sure, the anger in my eyes. She left the clothes and the food, and I stared at both of them. There was no way in hell I could possibly trust any of them I couldn’t trust anyone, not even my own fucking dad, which meant I was on my own.

  There was just one word on my mind. Escape. That was my only route to safety. To freedom. Unfortunately, this place was a fucking fortress. Armed security roamed the perimeter on an hourly basis, the whole property was wired for audio and video, and there was barbed wire along the fences that I could see. Escape was a slim possibility, and that only made me angry all over again. Angry and frustrated at feeling so weak, so helpless.

  “No more,” I told myself and took a step closer to the window. I wasn’t weak or helpless. I held people’s lives in my hand every day of the week. I was a goddamn rock star.

  I needed to start acting like one. Not a victim. Not a prisoner. A fucking rock star.

  I heard footsteps, the lock click, then that deep voice. “We need to talk.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek so Rourke wouldn’t know he’d startled me. “We have nothing to talk about.” Arms folded in a protective gesture, I refused to yield even an inch to that beautiful asshole.

  “Don’t we?”

  I shook my head violently. “No, we don’t. Not that I’d ever believe a fucking word you say anyway.”

  He’d lied about everything from the moment I’d met him and I couldn’t even blame him. Who trusted someone you met during a kidnapping? A big fucking dummy, that was who.

  “That’s too bad because you’re stuck here.”

  “For now.” I refused to be a pawn in my father’s game, in the Connelly family’s games or Lorenzo and his family. They were all bad men who placed too much importance on money and the perception of power. They ruined lives, all in pursuit of things that didn’t matter, wouldn’t matter if they were lucky enough to make it to the old and gray stage of life.

  “You can’t avoid me forever, Margo.”

  “I don’t care enough to avoid you.” I didn’t want to look at him or be around him, but that was true of everyone in the whole fucking house. Staff included.

  “You cared before.”

  I snorted. “Before you proved to be a lying piece of shit and a kidnapper, sure. Another mistake I’ll be sure not to repeat.” If I was the optimistic sort, I’d say at least Rourke taught me a valuable lesson about trusting the wrong people. That was my mistake for thinking there were right people.

  No one could be trusted, and that pissed me off.

  Rourke stared at me for a long time, shook his head as if perplexed and exited the room with a soft click of the door behind him.

  I shoved the disappointment I felt at his easy defeat, down deep. Buried it deep, along with the memories of my mother and brother, where it would never see the light of day again.

  ***

  A knock sounded on the door and my eyes shot open. I sat up straight and looked around the now dark room w
ith a sense of apprehension. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the stress of my situation, but all of my senses were heightened, on edge. The knock sounded again, not loud but firm and sure.

  I pulled the phone out of my pocket and checked the time. It was just after eleven at night. Only one person would come to me this late.

  “I’m trying to respect your privacy,” he said through the door and I could hear the tension in his clenched jaws.

  I stared at the door, wishing I could light the damn thing on fire with the power of my rage. “Respecting someone’s privacy would be going the fuck away when they don’t answer your knock.”

  Respect was another of those notions that criminals used but had no idea about. To them it was just a concept, one they wouldn’t understand until they were behind bars. Where they belonged.

  Seconds later the key found the lock and turned, opening the door to reveal Rourke looking good enough to eat in jeans and a plain black t-shirt that highlighted all of the good things about him. He stood in the doorway for a while and stared at the side of my face. “Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?”

  “Why don’t you go discuss that with Daniel Milano? You two have more in common than you realize.”

  “Our motives are different, even you can see that.” It wasn’t a statement, just a comment meant to rile me up.

  “You guys all have excuses that seem so important, or righteous at the time. But you’re all liars. Thieves and crooks who say what you need to make you feel good about the shitty things you do.”

  I thought he was different and maybe for a moment he was, but Rourke was more proof that as long as I was anywhere near my father, there was no chance at a normal life.

  “Keeping you safe is a shitty thing?”

  “Keeping me against my will, Rourke. No matter what you claim your motives are, you kidnapped me. You took me someplace I expressly told you I didn’t want to go. Now that I’m pissed and refuse to do what you want, you think claiming safety will keep me quiet. Well fuck you and your excuses.”

  I slid off the bed, no longer comfortable with him standing and towering over me. His mouth curled up into a grin. “We already did that. It was pretty fucking great if I recall.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You are almost as good a fuck as you are a liar. Congratulations. I’m sure your family is so proud.”

  Rourke’s eyes darkened and he slowly rounded the bed. “You weren’t complaining at the time.”

  “I didn’t know you were gonna kidnap me, did I? Because if I had, I would have left you to fight off Daniel and his thugs, and I could be halfway across the country by now.”

  I took a step back and he took one forward, refusing to back out of my personal space so I pushed his chest.

  It didn’t make much of a difference in his position, but it gave Rourke time to grab my wrists and pull me close. “I didn’t kidnap you. Seriously, Margo. Just trying to keep you alive until this all blows over. You don’t know what the fuck is out there. Don’t be so goddamn hard headed.”

  I glared at him. Fire in my eyes. “If that’s what you need to think to sleep at night, sure. What you think or say means absolutely nothing to me, Rourke Flannigan. Nothing.”

  “Liar.” He licked his lips and my eyes were drawn to his pink mouth, so soft and kissable.

  Fuck. Me. Was it possible to want someone you hated? “Less than nothing.” His hand reached out and one finger circled a hard nipple through the now grungy white tank top I’d been wearing since we’d got here. I gasped at his touch and Rourke smiled.

  “You want me,” he purred.

  “Just because you’re hot as fuck doesn’t mean I like or trust you.” His other hand joined the party at my chest, squeezing and teasing me mercilessly. I let him because I wanted him, because it was the only way to rid my body of some of this tension to clear my mind.

  Rourke cupped my face and then his mouth crashed down on mine. I knew the smart thing would’ve been to use the moment to make my escape, but his touch was like gasoline, setting me on fire in all the right places. His mouth was succulent and sweet, and I ripped my mouth from his. This wasn’t about sweet.

  “Oh fuck, Margo.”

  His gaze was intense and hungry as it roamed my body, but I didn’t miss the confusion when I avoided his mouth, placing kisses down the column of his neck. Up the ridges of his abs and chest as I removed his t-shirt. Rourke’s body was a thing of beauty, and I took my time exploring him with my lips, my tongue and my teeth. He was salty and sweet, fresh and musky. Intoxicating.

  I wanted him with a need I hadn’t had for a man since I was a teenage girl crushing on the latest Hollywood heart throb.

  “Take your clothes off,” I grunted at him and shoved my jeans and panties to my ankles.

  “Bossy,” he said with a smile. I bent over the bed and waited for the sweet relief I knew was coming. Rourke’s lips brushed up the length of my spine and pulled a shiver from me.

  In response, I arched my back to tempt him with what I knew we both wanted. The only thing we both wanted. I touched myself while I waited for him to get naked, moaning just loud enough so he could hear.

  “You’re starting without me,” he murmured in my ear, brushing his tongue up and down the crook of my neck and shoulder. The motion was soft and sensual, teasing but with a dark edge and I allowed it. Hell, I wanted it.

  “So wet,” he groaned as he slid two fingers deep enough to pull another moan from me.

  His touch was equal parts heaven and hell. While my mind struggled with taking pleasure from someone I loathed, my body had no qualms whatsoever. I moaned and arched into him as his fingers plunged in and out of me, turning me on and bringing me closer to the edge. When his cock was buried deep, I let my head fall forward and I kept my eyes closed, absorbing the shock, the pleasure, the twinge of pain that every thrust produced.

  This wasn’t the slow making love of eager couples or the energetic sex people get the first time with a man. No. This was raw and primal, a rough fuck that only had one goal. Pleasure. When his hands gripped my hips hard enough to sting, my nipples tightened until they ached. When he fucked me, hard and fast, I grew wetter and more aroused.

  His grunts sounded behind me, but nothing was louder than the hard smack of sweaty bodies slapping together as they fucked sloppily, angrily and with just one item on the agenda.

  Mind-blowing orgasms.

  “Margo.” Rourke’s voice was tight, a warning that wasn’t necessary as his cock grew harder and thicker inside me. I reached around between our bodies, cupping his balls, now high and tight and ready for release.

  His grip tightened on my hips and his thrusts grew harder and deeper. My own orgasm started at my feet and barreled up against my will. I wanted Rourke, wanted to feel his cock fill me up and pound into me, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of the orgasm I felt welling up inside of me. But Rourke was a stubborn son of a bitch, and he felt my body shake as pleasure wove through my veins. “Fuck,” I grunted out as I tried to fight it.

  He pressed me against the bed even more, holding me tight so he was in total control as he fucked me like a man possessed. Every smack of his body against mine sent a starburst exploding behind my eyes. Each stroke of his cock made my pussy wetter with the need for more. And then his teeth sank into my shoulder and all was lost.

  We shook and convulsed violently together, holding on to one another as the orgasms shot out of us. It took minutes before the pleasure faded and reality invaded. I wiggled until Rourke moved off me, rolling over on his back on top of the bed.

  I crawled off the bed, avoiding Rourke as I headed to the bathroom to clean up.

  “I knew you wanted me,” he called after me. When I looked over my shoulder at Rourke, he was relaxed, muscles loose and smile wide. So fucking sure of himself.

  “Correction. My body wanted you. The rest of me fucking hates you.” His smile dimmed but it didn’t fade.

  “I can live with that.�
��

  “Good. Don’t be here when I come out.” I locked the bathroom door behind me and I listened, not taking care of anything until I heard him gather his shit and leave the room.

  Chapter Twenty - Three

  Rourke

  “How’s Milano?”

  Margo was all business that morning, short and sharp with her words, and she didn’t look at me once other than when she opened the door to join me in the hallway. You wouldn’t know that we’d had hot, sweaty, angry sex the night before.

  Margo was halfway down the hall when I caught up with her. “There’s no need to run from me. I can control myself if you can.”

  She didn’t respond or acknowledge she’d heard me, just continued on the now familiar path to her room. Her sure strides did nothing to hide the effect her body had on me, not even in the clothes the Bastards had given her in Mayhem that she refused to change.

  “Seriously, silence again?”

  I grabbed her arm and she yanked out of my grip in a fast spin, poised to fight.

  “Whoa, calm down. You think I’m gonna hurt you?” I said, not believing she could think that after last night.

  Her chest heaved and her blue eyes were glassy and wild, but still she didn’t drop her arms or shake off her defensive position. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ll do. What is it that you want?”

  That was a good damn question. Why in the hell was I so hung up on her feelings and her comfort? Why did I give a shit if she was happy to be here when she didn’t have a choice either way?

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  My words didn’t even make her flinch.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she snapped back. “Well?”

  “You need to eat.”

  She dropped her arms and turned away, strides faster and longer than before. “I know what I need better than you do.”

  A low chuckle escaped but not even that got her to stop her determined stride or throw me an annoyed look. “I don’t know about that.”

  Still, nothing.

  When she got to her room, me on her heels, clearly Margo realized what I already knew. She was trapped. “Now you have to talk.”