Connelly Crime Family Trilogy

by Winters, KB

  “Is it really so bad? Depending on other people?”

  Her legs finally stopped near the ten-foot tall block wall and she turned to face me, her eyes even more vibrant against her pale freckled skin. “Yes. It is that bad. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  I opened my mouth to argue with her again but thought better of it. No matter that I was doing what was best for my family, Margo was right. I had betrayed her. Reasons be damned, I did what I did, and I’d have to live with it. “Fair enough.”

  She shrugged and turned to face the fence, looking at the intricately woven barbed wire on top of the stone fence. “I don’t want a life where this is necessary at home, Rourke.”

  “No one wants that life, Margo.”

  She continued staring up at the wire like she didn’t hear me before she gave another shrug and turned away. “I think I’ll go inside now. Catch you around, Rourke.”

  “At dinner,” I reminded her tightly. “You don’t want to test Patrick.”

  “I’m not afraid of your uncle. Real invitations can be accepted or rejected, so either it’s an invitation or something else.”

  Goddamn, she was frustrating with her word play. “One day your bad attitude is gonna get you killed.”

  She shrugged. “Having a good attitude hasn’t worked out so well for me either, so I think I’ll try this one out for a while.”

  Margo walked away, and I stayed where I was, knowing there was too much security of the human and electronic variety that she couldn’t escape no matter how much she tried. What I couldn’t seem to escape was her words, that resigned tone that said she’d had all she could take of this life.

  I didn’t think she was suicidal, but she had given up and that could make a person reckless, having nothing to lose. Guilt washed over me as I thought of my role in Margo potentially losing her job, which hadn’t even occurred to me. Of course she’d think giving up her life was no big deal. The rest of her life had already been ripped from her.

  I had no idea how to get back what she’d lost, and I didn’t even know why I cared so much, only that I did. Dammit.

  The only thing I could do right now to help Margo was end this war as soon as fucking possible.

  Chapter Twenty - Eight

  Margo

  “Your numbers have improved but not enough. Have you been taking your medicine?”

  Lorenzo looked up at me with his dark coffee brown eyes, trying hard to look more pitiful than he already did.

  “Not as much as I should but yeah, I have them.” There was more to the story so I used a trick that worked like a charm on my dad and just stared at him until he answered. “They didn’t give me enough so I have to space them out and only take half of what the doctor ordered.”

  I glared at Rourke but otherwise said nothing. “Eliminate all drinks but water from your diet until you’re back on your prescribed regimen of pills.” Neither of us knew when that would be, which meant this mild illness could turn into a death sentence for the old man.

  “If I ever get back on a regular regimen, right?”

  I sighed and stared right at him. “Yeah, that’s right. Should I feel sorry for you when you’re the one who instigated this mess in the first place? Give me a break old man. You’ll live if this is resolved in a timely manner. If not, then we’re all going to hell at the same time.” I didn’t bother tidying up after myself this time because fuck these guys. I was here as a hostage and free medical help—housekeeper wasn’t on the list.

  “Your father could have prevented this,” he said, no trace of gratitude now for possibly saving his life.

  Oh, I wasn’t buying into that story. “Yeah, well you could have too. So could the other old man wandering around this asylum. Any of you could have made a million different choices, but you didn’t, so here we are. A lifetime of neglect and poor dieting, and it’s the lack of one tiny pill that will end up killing you. Karma is a creative bitch, isn’t she?”

  “If I die so does your father!”

  “Worth it,” I called out because there was no other response I could make. I didn’t want Dad dead, but I also didn’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for phantom kidnappers, ransom seekers and others in search of revenge on him or one of his associates.

  I was halfway down the hall when a familiar hand wrapped around my upper arm. “Stop running away from me.”

  “Not every move I make is with you in mind, Rourke.” Though being close to him was something I tried hard to avoid as much as possible. “I’m headed to the only place I can have a shred of peace. What do you want?”

  “Are we back to being enemies?” He whispered his words in my ear, his warm breath heating my neck and producing a shiver. “I prefer it when we’re not enemies.”

  “Well I prefer to sleep in my own bed. I prefer to shower in my own bathroom. Eat food prepared by my own hands.” I swallowed a moan when his hand slid up my stomach.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re miserable, and you hate it here. Sing another damn song, Margo.”

  I relaxed into him and when his hold loosened, I took off down the hall. Yeah I wanted him, bad. My body was already simmering in anticipation of his next touch, but the man was unbearable. So arrogant to think he was constantly on my mind. Well he wasn’t, not constantly anyway. Frequently maybe, more than I would like for sure, but not constantly.

  Nope.

  And I was getting weak. I needed to eat. Shower. Get my ass out of here.

  That annoying little voice was right and my legs kept moving away from Rourke, but he hadn’t given up, his footsteps were barely a beat behind me and then his arm was around my waist and my feet were lifted off the ground as he carried me into his room and kicked the door shut.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I demanded.

  “You! You are my problem, Margo, and you have been since the day we met.”

  “Simple solution to that.” I was more than a little aware that we were in a locked bedroom. Together. Less than a foot separated us so I turned my gaze to the room at large, noticing the navy blue and silver bedding on the cherry wood furnishings. A king size bed sat in the middle of the room, heavily decorated but haphazardly made with cockeyed pillows and an uneven dust ruffle.

  “Let me go,” I insisted, kicking my legs to force him to put me down.

  “God, I wish I could,” he growled. He set me on my feet and held my face for a long time, staring at me as if he hated me and loved me and wished me dead all at the same time. Then his lips were on mine, and I forgot why he would hate me, why he would want me dead. Hell, I forgot everything except his touch, the map of his big beautiful body.

  This kiss started on ten, hot and fast, frantic and clumsy as we clawed at each other, fought one another in our eagerness to come together. To touch and to taste, to tease. Rourke groaned and pulled me closer, hands gripping my ass like he just couldn’t get enough of me.

  “Margo,” he growled when he ripped his lips from mine.

  “That’s my name,” I panted and pulled him back down for another kiss. His taste was intoxicating and I felt tipsy as I drank from his lips, taking as much as I could before we separated again.

  “What is this?” A small frown marred his face, a blend of confusion and suspicion.

  “You said it yourself, I want you. If I’m stuck here, at least sex with you will give me something to look forward to.” I stepped back and ripped his hands from the hem of my top. “But we don’t have to.”

  “Get back here.” To his credit, Rourke was a gentleman and lifted the tank top over my head.

  “Much fucking better.” His gaze was hungry on my tits as he licked his lips.

  I pushed my chest out with a grin. “See something you like?”

  “Fuck yeah. That smart mouth of yours.”

  I smiled. “I’ve been told it’s my best feature.”

  “Yeah?” His smile was seductive and teasing as he unfastened his jeans, shoving them to his knees along with a
pair of black boxer briefs. Why did he have to be so fucking sexy?

  “Let’s see what that mouth can do,” he said in a husky whisper.

  I wanted to say something sarcastic. Something scathing and cutting but watching Rourke stand there half naked stroking his cock made my mouth water and I dropped to my knees.

  “This mouth?” I teased.

  Before Rourke could say another word I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, and he moaned low and deep in his chest.

  “Fuck yeah,” he moaned as his fingers tangled in my hair and his hips began a slow and steady thrust.

  His cock was long but not too long. Thick enough that I could feel the veins under my tongue. Thick enough that it wasn’t easy to take all of him, harder still to take him deep, which I did. Again and again, I gripped his thighs and sucked his cock like it was my favorite thing to do. It helped that Rourke smelled good, tasted good and liked it just dirty enough to make me wet, not mad.

  “Fuck, Margo.” I took him deeper and deeper, swallowing around his cock until his knees trembled. When he pulled my hair, I knew I had him, and I took him just a little deeper.

  “Fuckin’ tease,” he growled, gripping my hair tighter while he sank his cock into my mouth and down my throat. With every thrust he let out a low growl, a deep guttural moan or just a harshly spoken curse.

  Every thrust of his delicious cock made me wet until I was slick and sticky. He fucked my mouth with a dark smile that did crazy things to my insides. I moaned around him, and Rourke bit out another curse.

  He stepped back with a grin.

  “My turn.” That grin was seductive as hell, filled with a promise I knew he could keep. And when Rourke dropped to his knees and pulled my jeans down my legs, I fucking trembled.

  The feel of his mouth between my legs, his hand cupping my ass, it was so much and not enough, I gave myself over to the sensations running through me. I gripped his hair between my fingers, tugging just enough to get his attention. “More.”

  He laughed, and the sound vibrated against me, sending shivers racing through my body.

  He looked up at me and laughed. “Dirty girl.” Then, one hand pushed me on the bed and the other kept my legs spread wide. “So pretty,” he said and gently blew over my wet pussy. “So wet.”

  He licked me from my asshole to the tip of my clit with a dirty smile that made me shiver. “So pink.”

  “So talkative,” I murmured.

  He laughed and got back down to business, licking me slowly and then fast, sucking me hard and fast, bringing me to a brutal orgasm that left me sweaty and breathless.

  “Are you saying I talk too much?”

  My body still shook from the orgasm as Rourke’s weight pressed down on me, his thick cock slid between my legs and his length slid back and forth over my clit. I moaned and arched my back. “I’m saying you talk. A lot.”

  He laughed and slid deep inside me in one smooth thrust that was tequila, tacos and fudge brownies wrapped up in one delicious meal.

  “Fuck, Margo, you’re so wet.”

  “Must have been that tongue of yours.”

  “Must be.” Then he was moving inside me and my back arched even further, my heels dug into his ass and my arms hung on for dear life. It was an intense fuck; one like I had never experienced before. Like a drug, taking me out of space and time and transporting me to a place where I could only feel. I felt everything, and as good as it felt, it also made me uncomfortable.

  I didn’t want Rourke to be the guy who produced these kinds of feelings. Hell, I didn’t want to have feelings about anyone, not while I was between lives. But he was determined and his strokes were raw and hungry, like he was a man on a mission.

  “Yes, Rourke!” The words were torn from my lips like a plea but seriously, the man could make my body feel things I didn’t think possible. “More.”

  “I know,” he growled and held me tighter, changing the position as he pounded into me in punishing strokes that pushed all the right buttons, sending electricity skittering through my veins, fire brushing over my skin. “Come for me, girl.”

  I smiled up at him, enjoying those hard pounding strokes until they built up in a long violent orgasm that was strong enough to knock Rourke off the bed, if he didn’t have a death grip on my body as he kept pounding into me. Hard and fast as I clenched around him. And then he froze. Roared and convulsed as he filled me deliciously. “Oh fucking fuck.”

  He collapsed on top of me, his hands still gripping my hips as his tongue slid up the length of my neck and circled around my earlobe. “You taste so fucking good Margo.”

  “Yeah? Want another?”

  “Damn straight I do.” I could hear the smile in his words, and I squeezed him tighter until he groaned.

  ***

  “Oh fuck! Yes! Oh fuck, God yes!”

  Sex with Rourke was quickly becoming an addiction I couldn’t resist, especially when I was the one on top, riding his cock like a cowgirl. He was so thick in this position I could barely move I was so full and when he leaned forward to swipe his tongue across my nipples, I nearly came right then and there.

  I looked down at him for just a moment, and he smiled back up at me, licking his lips.

  “Margo,” he growled as his fingers dug into my skin, hard enough to bruise, but I didn’t give a damn. I rode him harder and faster as sweat dripped down my body, amplifying the sounds of our bodies coming together again and again. “Margo, babe.”

  He wanted to come, and I wanted to prolong this for as long as possible which, considering the way my legs trembled and my days long hunger strike was robbing me of energy, wasn’t much longer. I sat up straight so he was buried deep and reached around to press my thumb into that spot that was guaranteed to drive a man wild.

  It worked like a fucking charm.

  Too well, in fact. He flashed a look a moment before pleasure took over him and the orgasm rocketed through his body and stole my breath away. It was affection. True and genuine affection, and worse, I liked it. I enjoyed seeing that look on his face. Warmth spread through me at that look and as my own orgasm worked its way out of my body, I knew.

  Rourke was even more trouble than I’d given him credit for.

  He was the forever kind of trouble and I wasn’t in the market for that kind. Not now. Not ever. As the last remnants of that orgasm worked its way to the surface, I knew I had a decision to make.

  “That was intense.” His words were breathless, but his smile was wide and proud.

  “It was. Damn good, too.”

  Rourke leaned over and pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that was far too gentle for two people who’d just fucked like wild animals, but I gave myself over to the kiss because I knew what it had to be.

  Our last kiss.

  When Rourke wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me close, I shut my eyes and let myself feel what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms and wake up in the same spot. I allowed myself to indulge in the what if game, just for a little while.

  What if things were different, and we could explore our attraction? What if Rourke had a different job, lived a different life? Hell, if my father was someone else? Would we stand a chance then or would we fizzle and burn out? Would we be one of those rare couples who went the distance?

  I doubted it. Men in Rourke’s line of work didn’t retire on big fat pensions that allowed them to sail around the world with a happy family. They died well before retirement age, usually in prison before that crucial milestone, which was why I needed to stop fantasizing about what could never be.

  Stop confusing a good fuck with feelings. Or love.

  He didn’t know what love was any more than I did, which made us a bad bet. My dad hadn’t taught me much in life worth knowing, but he had taught me that.

  So I enjoyed a few more seconds in Rourke’s arms, making sure his deep, even breathing stayed that way as I slipped from his bed, grabbing his t-shirt, and putting it on. The damn t-shirt smelled like him,
but it would be more than fine until I figured out my next move.

  Back in my room I grabbed the jeans the girl had left the other day. I was afraid they’d slide down my hips I’d lost so much weight this week, but they’d do. Next, I reached for a bottle of water, shoved the phone they’d given me to call Dad in my pocket and made my way out of the mansion that had been my prison this week.

  I ignored the pang of sadness and regret that I felt as I dashed for the wall near the vegetable garden. The gods were on my side. Relief poured out of me as I saw my first piece of luck since I’d ended up in this horrible place. No one had moved the gardener’s ladder. I climbed to the top of the wall and carefully picked my way over the barbed wire, suffering a few scratches in the process. I looked down; the only way to reach freedom was to jump. Fearless—or stupid—I let myself fall but sprained my ankle when I landed.

  I had no time to pamper myself. I had to hurry. I’d checked the phone earlier and thankfully it had the Uber app, which meant a credit card was attached to pay for my getaway. I limped along the dark road until the house faded from sight before I ordered a car.

  The closest driver was twelve minutes away; an eternity when I was trying to save my life, but out here in the boonies, it was the closest I’d get.

  I kept my eyes peeled for the car. I couldn’t afford to miss my only chance to escape. An escape that only got much harder when the blue Prius drove right by me. “Hey,” I called out and he realized his mistake. But instead of backing up, the dumb fuck made me limp the almost quarter mile to his car.

  “Margo?”

  “That’s me. Give me a minute to get settled. I rolled my ankle over one of those decorative rock thingies.” The driver rolled his eyes, and without apologies for almost leaving without me, began to drive.

  “ER?”

  “Nah, I’m a paramedic. I just need to get home for ice and elevation, thanks.”

  I had to stop home first to pick up a few things. I left the phone under the passenger’s seat before I got out, adding a tip on the app for the trouble my actions would cause the driver later. I laughed to myself picturing Patrick seeing the Uber charge with a hundred-dollar tip.