“Sounds like a damn fine plan.” Dix had given Byron some bloody assignments, but he’d powered through all of them.
Dix spotted Jimbo, chilling on a park bench. The bastard wore a track suit and seemed to be more interested in his phone than working out.
“Pull up behind ’em and wait for my signal,” Dix told Jasper before he jumped out.
Byron joined him, and together, they approached the bench. Over the years, they’d developed a tag team approach to handling undesirables—men who’d borrowed money and then tried to stiff the Dixie Mafia, assholes who’d invaded their turf, and the like. They had the routine down pat, and they loved delivering a one-two punch.
They sat down on either side of the mark.
“Nice evenin’.” Byron lit a cigarette.
“Yeah.” Jimbo didn’t glance up from his phone.
Dix glimpsed the images on the screen. He’d been following women taking pictures of their asses while they worked out. What the fuck?
“You like the fresh air?” Dix settled back on the bench and kept his body language open and friendly.
“Ain’t bad.”
“That why you came to the park?” Byron blew a smoke ring.
“Look, fellas, no offense, but I like the ladies.” Jimbo tried to stand, and they pressed him back down with a hand on each of his shoulders.
“Sit and stay a while.” Byron smiled, real slow and easy.
“We know you like the ladies—a bit too much.” Dix slapped him on the shoulder, hard.
“What do you mean?” His eyes were wide.
“I heard tell you got trouble takin’ no for an answer, Jumbo Jimbo,” Dix said.
“Holy shit! Are you cops?”
“Naw, we ain’t the fuzz.” Byron glanced right and left. Seeing the coast was clear, he jammed a gun in the guy’s ribcage.
“Oh my God!”
“You wish we were the cops.” Dix hauled Jimbo to his feet and kicked him square in the balls. He doubled over, coughing and clutching his nut sack. “Where are my manners? We’ll give you a ride home. You ain’t in no shape to walk.”
“No, please….”
“Move your worthless hide.” Byron gestured with the gun, and Jimbo waddled to the van. Dix tossed him into the back and climbed in after him while Byron took shotgun.
“What’s this about?” Jimbo slumped in a seat. “I swear, I haven’t done anythin’.”
Dix scratched his forehead. “You ain’t got the good sense God gave a bear, son.”
“What?”
“A bear don’t shit where it eats, or in your case, harass women where you work. We got a mutual acquaintance—Ms. Annabelle Nunn.”
Jimbo gasped. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Break into her house and piss on her bed?” Byron offered.
“And smash her shit,” Jasper added.
Before the asshole could answer, Dix punched him in the mouth.
Jimbo clutched his jaw but made no move to hit back. Just like Dix suspected, the man was a coward. He liked to prey on those smaller and weaker than himself.
“And we didn’t even get to the kidnappin’.” Dix hit him again.
“What? Hell no! I broke in, and that’s it.” His eyes widened. “And I made some crank calls, but nothin’ else—I swear!”
Dix exchanged a look with Byron who shrugged.
“You didn’t pay David to snatch her?” Dix shook him until his teeth rattled, desperate for answers.
“Who the fuck is David? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He cowered, but met Dix’s gaze without hesitating—the dickhead was telling the truth.
And that left Dix with a big problem. Was David working alone? Did someone pay him to snatch her? Dix needed answers.
Well, he’d have to deal with it later. Right now, Dix took out his frustration by punching the mother fucker—left, right, left again.
“I ain’t lyin’!” Jimbo spat blood on the floor.
“Didn’t think you were, but you need a lesson.” Dix beat him again. “A real man don’t destroy a woman’s life just ’cuz she turns him down.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Snot and blood ran down his chin.
Byron glanced over his shoulder with brows raised, then pulled his gun.
“Are we talkin’ a final solution?”
Dix hesitated, but then shook his head. Jimbo would live to harass other women. While he wanted to put a bullet in his head, it’d eventually point to Belle. The detectives would look for someone with a motive.
“Stay away from her, or we’ll do this again.” He grabbed the sniveling bastard by the shirt collar and hauled him up. “After we’re done here, you can go to the police, but remember, I know where you fuckin’ live. I’ll hunt you down like a dog, and one of these days….” Dix paused deliberately.
Jimbo gulped. “What?”
“I’ll put you down like one.” He wrenched open the door. “We’re almost at your place.”
“Please don’t hurt my wife.”
“It ain’t your wife’s fault she’s married to your spineless ass.” Jasper slowed down. “Ah, here we are. If I were you, I’d tuck and roll.”
“What do you mean…agh!”
Dix tossed him out the door and sent him spinning on the pavement.
Jasper put the pedal to the metal, and they took off.
Hours later, Dix was still keyed up.
After Jasper had dropped him off, he’d gone for a ride to calm his nerves, but it hadn’t worked. He’d thought the fight would’ve worn him out, but he had energy to burn. It’d been a while since he’d been in a bare-knuckle brawl, and it’d unleashed something. His hands were bruised and bloody. They’d hurt like hell tomorrow, but he didn’t give a damn.
Dix pounded up the stairs and into his room—and found Belle seated on the chest at the end of his bed.
She stood when she saw him. Belle wore a white cotton babydoll nightgown, demure by lingerie standards, but the testosterone coursing through his body said otherwise. Moonlight filtered into the room, giving her an unearthly glow and illuminating the shape of her body.
He got hard instantly, painfully hard—the kind of erection he’d gotten as a younger man.
She swallowed. “You’ve got blood on your shirt.”
Dix glanced down. Blood had left scattershot stains all over his Hugo Boss. Instead of responding, he unsnapped the cufflinks at his wrists and deposited them in the box on the dresser. Then he stripped off the shirt and tossed it into the wicker hamper beside the bathroom door.
“Is he alive?” She watched him intently.
He cocked his head the side. How’d she know?
“Vick let it slip.”
Dix would have a talk with Vick about Dixie Mafia secret-keeping. He stalked into the bathroom and washed the blood off his hands.
“He’s probably in the emergency room, but he’s alive. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. Asshat won’t be comin’ for you again, but he didn’t hire David.”
“Then who did?” Belle shivered.
“Not a fuckin’ clue, but I’ll find out and take care of it. I’ll make sure you stay safe.”
“I didn’t want this. We should talk about it.”
“What’s to talk about? It’s done.” He dried off his hands and stepped closer to her. “And you aren’t goin’ back to that apartment. You need someplace more secure. I’m gettin’ you a place in Magnolia Arms.”
“It’s too expensive.”
Dix smiled. “I know. I own the place, so don’t worry about it.” He got a bit closer.
Belle backed away.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“I...maybe.”
“You knew what kind of man I was when you accepted my offer.” Dix felt wild tonight, unchecked. “A good man would’ve let you go. He’d be too concerned with honor and justice—doing the right thing—instead of protecting you.”
Her gaze darted to the door, and he wondered if she
thought about running away.
“I ain’t your father, and I’ll never hurt you. I won’t leave you unprotected…defenseless.”
How anyone could walk away from her was beyond him. Belle deserved a man in her life that would shield and honor her. And Dix wished like hell it was him. She deserved better than a criminal with a dried-out husk for a heart.
“Come here.” Dix crooked a finger.
He’d defended his woman, and now he wanted to claim her, own her. When it came to Belle, Dix felt primal. She felt like his, even though she wasn’t.
“Why?”
“’Cuz I’m gonna fuck you.”
Belle was breathing hard.
And so was he. “If you ain’t in the mood, I suggest you haul ass down the hall and lock the guest room door.”
Belle took a step backward, but she didn’t flee.
Dix seized her by the shoulders, fisted a hand in her hair, and pulled it back, exposing her throat.
She moaned.
He kissed the long, slim expanse of her neck, nipping gently before sucking at the skin. Dix had the wild urge to bite down. He hooked thumbs in the nightgown and pushed it over her shoulders. It ghosted down her body, pooling on the floor. Her nipples were hard, and moisture glistened between her thighs. His mouth fastened on one berry nipple and sucked.
Dix dipped a finger inside. She was sopping wet and quivering.
Belle gasped, riding his hand as he drove her mad. She fell into his arms. He carried her to the bed and tossed her down. Dix stood between her splayed thighs and deliberately unzipped. And then wrapped a hand around himself, letting her see how hard it was. Pre-come dripped from the head as he pumped himself.
As he slid into her tight heat, and they both moaned.
Goddamn, she had a sweet pussy—snug and needy. He drove into her, and Belle wrapped her legs around his back and lifted her hips, meeting every thrust.
She laid a hand on his face, eyes wide, watching him wordlessly.
And Dix slowed, almost stopped.
He ground against her, taking his time. Suddenly, he wished this night would never end, and they could stay this way forever—welded together.
He shuddered as she kissed him.
Then, they pushed together until they both came.
After it was over, he disconnected their bodies but hauled her into his arms so he could hold her. Belle felt damn good in his arms.
A few minutes later, Belle wriggled away. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and was about to stand when he hooked an arm around her waist and tugged her back.
“Stay.”
Dix hadn’t slept beside a woman since his wife had died, but he couldn’t bear to spend the night alone—no, he couldn’t bear to spend it without Belle.
“You want me to sleep here?”
He nodded.
She opened her mouth, closed it, and laid back down. Soon, she drifted off, but he lay awake.
Before he closed his eyes, he slid his wedding ring off and tucked it away for safekeeping.
And Dix refused to think about what it meant.
Chapter Seventeen
What a mess.
Belle stood in the middle of her shredded apartment, wondering where to begin. It was an overwhelming task, one she’d put off for far too long.
Belle and Dix were living in some kind of relationship limbo. She didn’t know what to call it, exactly. Belle was more than a mistress but less than a girlfriend. It’d been a couple of days since he’d “taken care” of Jim, and they’d spent almost all of that time together. He hadn’t worked, and she hadn’t job searched—instead, they’d made love, talked for hours, and only left the bed for food.
And Dix had taken off his wedding ring. Yet, neither one of them spoke about it or acknowledged what it meant. Belle wasn’t sure she was ready for that particular conversation.
But she didn’t have time to contemplate her love life right now.
Armed with a keep calm and carry on mindset, along with garbage bags, duct tape, and cardboard boxes, she started in on the bedroom because it was the worst—might as well get it over with it.
Belle rolled her shoulders, put on a pair of rubber gloves, and got to work. It was time to move on to bigger and better things anyway. She’d always wanted to live in Magnolia Arms, and now she had the opportunity to make it happen.
She opened all the windows, but it didn’t counteract the smell much. Jim had peed on her bed, and the stench of urine was overwhelming. Sort of symbolic, really—he’d pissed all over her life, too. A small, dark part of her was pleased Dix had beat the crap out of him—not that she’d ever admit it.
“You know, Byron made this job look glamorous, but it ain’t.” Brax walked in the room with a hand over his nose. “I’m gonna be outside. Holler when you want me to load boxes.”
“Fine.” Belle couldn’t say she blamed him. Belle was tempted to shut the door and tackle this another day—or maybe never. Screw the security deposit.
Wasting no time, he sprinted out the front door.
First, she swept up the glass so she wouldn’t cut herself. Then she stripped the bed, stuffed the sheets and blankets into trash bags, and spent the next five minutes scrubbing her hands under hot water, even though she’d worn gloves. She could’ve laundered the linens, but Belle couldn’t stomach sleeping on them ever again. They’d forever be the urine sheets. And the mattress was a lost cause—it was stained yellow and stunk to high heaven—but the bed frame was salvageable.
She created piles in the bedroom—trash, take, and donate. Some of her furniture wasn’t worth taking; the couch was on its last legs, a milk crate served as the nightstand, and her plastic Walmart-special shelving was one heavy book away from collapsing.
An hour later, a knock on the wall startled her.
She glanced up to find Brax bouncing from foot to foot. “I’m gonna step over to Lickety Split right quick and grab some smokes. I’m out. You got your cell?”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t I come with you?” She didn’t want to be left alone in this godawful place.
“I don’t want to interrupt your flow.”
Belle hesitated. Was she being paranoid? It was broad daylight, and he promised to be right back. Brax was twitchier than usual. The last thing she needed was a jumpy armed bodyguard in need of nicotine.
“Come on. I’ll be gone five minutes.”
“Okay. Make it a short trip, though?” She dialed 9-1-1 on the cell but didn’t hit the call button and placed it on the nightstand.
“Yup, I’ll be back before you know it.” He took off, and she continued sorting through her closet.
And then Belle lost track of time as she moved from one task to another. She’d moved into the bathroom and was currently tossing bits of leftover body washes, toothpaste, and old deodorants into the trash. She hadn’t intended to start in on the room, but she’d used the restroom and suddenly found herself picking through the medicine cabinet—the right-brained approach to cleaning.
Belle glanced at her watch—twenty minutes had passed. Where the hell did Brax go? Knowing him, he was probably chatting up pretty girls at the gas pumps.
“Hello?”
Belle yelped.
Inexplicably, Emmett stood in the hallway.
For a second, she was dumbstruck.
Emmett was much older than the last time she’d seen him, but it shouldn’t have surprised her, since so much time had passed. His reddish-brown hair had gone steely gray. Time had whittled his handsome face, outlining the corners of his mouth, accentuating the space between his brows and the corners of his eyes. He wore a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a navy hoodie.
In her mind’s eye, he’d been frozen in time. The last day she’d seen him, he’d been loading boxes into the back of his pickup. Belle had watched him from the window.
She’d wanted to run downstairs, wrap her arms around his legs, and beg him not to abandon her, but pride stopped her. Instead, she’d watched, searching
his face for some sign of remorse or regret—of course, she’d seen none.
Before heading out, Emmett had tossed two big bags of trash in the dumpster. Belle felt like he’d pitched her in the trash, right along with the remnants of his old life.
Please, Daddy, don’t leave me.
Belle still didn’t know why she’d cried so hard when he left. Yearning for a father figure wouldn’t turn him into one.
“Emmett.” Belle was proud her tone was so even and cool.
She’d fantasized about seeing him again over the years. Sometimes he’d been tearful and apologetic, others he’d been his usual jackass self. But in her daydreams, she’d always looked polished and professional. And here she was now—unemployed and cleaning her mess of an apartment.
His smile was pleasant. “My Lord, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He held out his arms. “Come over here, girl. Gimme a hug.”
Her lower lip trembled.
Belle had the wildest urge to run to him and hug him. It’d be so easy to pretend Emmett loved her. She could swallow his excuses and lies like her mother had or stand her ground.
Damn him. Too little, too late.
“What do you want, Emmett?” He hadn’t come to visit—that’s for damn sure.
“To see you. What happened here?” He nudged a shard of glass with the toe of his cowboy boot.
“A break-in.”
His gaze drifted over her in an assessing manner. “You lost your accent, along with the weight, Piggy.”
Yeah, same old Emmett. When charm didn’t work, he went straight for the jugular.
“I’ve lost a lot of things, Emmett. And never call me Piggy again. Why the fuck are you here?”
“Don’t talk ugly. Can’t a father visit his daughter?”
A bark of laughter escaped. “You came down with a case of fatherhood all of a sudden?”
“I suppose you think I didn’t do right by you.” He placed his hands in his pockets.
No, she knew he hadn’t.
“And I suppose you think you did.”
He paused for the longest time and Belle could almost see the mental calculations on his face as he tried to find just the right manipulation to use on her. Emmett had spent his entire life controlling women, using them to get what he wanted.
Flesh and Blood (Dixie Mafia Series Book 1) Page 18
