by Ravenna Tate
Marie cried out again as Jimmy fucked her slow and deep. It was so sensual this time. Not the usual rough and tumble she’d grown used to. Or maybe she just missed him so much it felt slower. Didn’t matter. She was lost in the familiar sensations, and when she came, it was intense and wonderful.
It didn’t take long for him to follow, and afterward he gathered her into his arms. “Now I can think. One week without fucking you is way too long.”
“I’m just so glad you’re okay. I’m so glad you’re back.”
“I’m fine. Digger is fine. Roberto di Stefano and Bess McFarland, not so fine.”
She giggled, and he sat up, gazing down at her with an expression that was too serious. What was going on? She sat up, too. “Are you all right? It looks like you have something huge on your mind.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Now you’re freaking me out.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Tell me about the hit. Start there.”
“It wasn’t a hit. I mean, it was, but we made sure it won’t be seen that way.”
“Okay. Tell me how it went down.”
After he bunched up the pillows and settled back against them, he pulled Marie into his arms. “We spent the first evening poring over information Digger’s associates had dug up on di Stefano. His habits, where he went at what time, where his wife went, who drove him around, et cetera.”
She loved the sound of his voice. Always had.
“He lives on a compound outside Queens so we knew there was no way to get to him there. Too much security and too much land to cover. For three days we followed him around, using a different vehicle each day. He was Christmas shopping with his wife.”
“That must have been boring.”
“No, it was good. Gave us a chance to confirm his habits. How many bodyguards were with him, where he ate, how much time he spent glancing around at his surroundings. Stuff like that.”
“So you knew you’d have to get to him when he was out.”
“Exactly. Two nights ago, his wife went out to one of her club meetings. The info we had said she went out twice a week, and we also knew he had a girlfriend. She wasn’t his first. This one, he’d been seeing once a week or so when his wife was out, for about two years.”
“God. I hate men who cheat.”
“Yeah. It’s not right. You marry someone, you don’t fucking step out on them.”
She bit her tongue because she’d been about to say she was glad to hear that.
“So he went out about ten minutes after she did, in his car with only two guards. We followed them onto the Upper West Side. Digger looked up the address, and sure enough, it was his girlfriend’s place. She lived on the top floor of a brownstone. Alley in the back, accessible one way only.”
“How on earth did you pull that off?”
He grinned. “Hang on. I want you to savor this. The car circled the block, slowly. Digger moved the van to the next street, and I hacked into the neighborhood smart system where they monitor alarms, and can see their front doors remotely.”
“Nice. But if they have that system, wouldn’t they see your faces?”
“Not from the alley side, which is how we got in. We walked past the street for a block and then watched the car, timing how long it took for one circle. When it passed the alley entrance, we tripped the fire alarm from Digger’s phone.”
“Oh, good idea!”
He beamed. “That was mine.”
A shiver ran down her spine. He was still good at this. Did he miss it? Is that what he wanted to tell her? That he was going back to being a hired hitman?
“We walked in but didn’t have to wait long before the door opened. People were coming out. We headed up to the third floor and rang her bell.”
“You’re kidding…”
“Didn’t want to force the door, Marie. That would give it away.”
“Who answered?”
“She did, looking panicked, and wearing nothing but a robe. Digger and I stepped inside. It was quick. He knocked her out with pressure under her jaw, and then di Stefano was there, wearing nothing at all. He yelled and lunged for us, but Digger and I both had him.”
“Weren’t his guards on their way inside?”
“We figured so, yes, so that’s why we sent the text, telling them it was false and not to come up. Then we disabled the alarm to buy us time.”
“What would you have done if they’d come up anyway?”
“Not answered the door. Once they got the text, we figured they would never question him.”
“That still sounds risky.” What if they’d been caught? They weren’t. It’s okay. He’s here.
“It’s always a risk, especially when timing is everything. But we’ve done this before. Remember? We put shitloads of oil in the tub and positioned their bodies with their heads on the edge of it. We bashed in their skulls to make it look like it was the fall that killed them. Then we walked out the front door, after making sure the car was on the other street during its circle.”
“Can’t cops tell when bodies have been moved before they die?”
“Sure, but he was there fucking her. The bed was already messed up, and the room smelled like cum. There was no reason for the cops to suspect anything.”
“Did you wait around to see what happened?”
“We waited until the guards broke in through the back door, and then called 911.”
“It’s too bad that woman had to die, too.”
“Collateral damage, Marie. It’s part of the game sometimes.”
Chapter Seventeen
Vassago had to avert his gaze at the look on Marie’s face. He really didn’t want to be telling her these details. All he wanted to do was hold her, and tell her that he’d been hit by the Thunderbolt. That he loved her, and wanted to spend his life with her. But did she want him? And especially now? By taking care of this for Donny, he was now terrified he’d lost Marie in the process.
“Nice touch. Calling 911.”
“We wanted them to get caught inside the apartment so they were forced to tell the cops what di Stefano had been doing. This gets it out in the open.”
“How do you know what they said to the police?”
“One of Digger’s associates called a friend at the local precinct, and we waited at Digger’s place until we heard that the cops believed it was nothing more than a household accident.”
Vassago watched her face carefully. Sure, she’d grown up with this, but after her experience with Vince, did she want to be with someone who could so casually kill two people? Bess had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Donny had brought up a very good point when he’d said di Stefano was now shamed.
The thing was, so were Bess and her family, not to mention di Stefano’s wife and kids. Vassago had had too much time and too little sleep all week. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the far-reaching consequences of this lifestyle.
One thing was now crystal clear. The dark part of him would always be there, lurking under the surface. Could Marie live with that, or was she done with the entire world in which she’d grown up?
She pulled out of his embrace and sat up straighter. “I have to tell you this or I’ll die. Jimmy, I’m in love with you.”
Oh God… “You are?” Fuck! That’s all you can say?
“Yeah. I am.”
He wanted to go up on the roof and shout his happiness! “You ever hear of the Colpo di fulmine?”
“Of course.”
“Marie, the second I saw you walk into this club, it hit me. I swear by all the fucking stars in the goddamn sky it did.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“But I’m still a killer. Doing that job was as easy as … I don’t even know what. I enjoyed it. I fucking liked it, Marie.”
“Are you saying you’re going back to it?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying it doesn’
t even bother me that we shamed di Stefano and killed him. I wasn’t crazy about having to do the same to his girlfriend. She was nothing more than collateral damage.”
“Like you said, sometimes that happens. If I’ve learned anything growing up the way I did, it’s that.”
“Yes. True. But to answer your question, no. I’m not leaving my Brothers. I’m not leaving this club. But that person is still inside me. It’s part of who I am.”
“I know that, Jimmy.”
He dared to touch her face, and the pain of her soft skin against his hand was almost too much to deal with. “You were with a man like that, and you didn’t really love him.”
“I didn’t really love him because he was horrible to me. Not because he killed people for money.”
“So, what would you think about being with someone again who had once killed people for money? Who recently killed people for free, as reckoning for his family?”
“What would you think about being with someone who lied? Who dragged innocent people into her trouble?”
“I’m thinking you know you did that, and you’re working hard to change who you are. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Jimmy, I love you. That includes all of you, even the dark side.”
“God. Then I’m asking you to be with me. To be my old lady. I’m not the marrying kind. None of us are. But if you want a real wedding with a fucking cake and a ten-thousand-dollar dress, I’ll do that, too. We’ll have kids if you want. Anything. Anything, as long as I’m with you for the rest of my life.”
She put a hand over her mouth as tears welled up in her beautiful eyes. “I don’t need a real wedding. I only need you. I’ve wanted you since I was a kid. Oh my God. Is this real?”
“Fuck. I sure hope so. Otherwise I hope I never wake up from this dream. Marie, I love you.”
“I love you, too, Jimmy. So much.”
“So, is that a ‘yes’?”
She laughed. “Of course it’s a ‘yes’! I’ll be your old lady. I’ll stay here with you forever.”
“You’re okay with that? With not going back to Brooklyn?”
“We can visit. I want to be where you are. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”
His heart nearly burst. He pulled her close and kissed her, lost to everything except her scent and the sound of her voice.
Vassago had no clue whether someone from di Stefano’s organization, or someone else’s, would come sniffing around again and try to make trouble for Donny or the Demons on Wheels MC. But right now, he didn’t give a shit.
The only thing that mattered was Marie. The only woman he’d ever truly loved. He would spend the rest of his life making sure she knew that. She’d never go one day without knowing how cherished and adored she was.
The End
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BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER
UNYIELDING
Tortured Love, 1
Ravenna Tate
Copyright © 2016
Chapter One
June 11, 2016
Wedding days were supposed to be happy days. Lynda Shelton was still undecided whether this, her wedding day, could be characterized as happy. She could do worse than Merrick Dalton, but she’d have preferred to choose her own groom as opposed to being forced into a marriage to save her family’s company.
She gripped her father’s arm tighter, not daring to look at his face. He’d see the conflict in her eyes, and this wasn’t the time to discuss the situation he’d placed her in. Not while she walked up the aisle of St. Patrick’s Cathedral toward her soon-to-be-husband, with more than five hundred pairs of eyes watching her.
The congregation rose, and almost instantly cell phones flashed. TV crews pointed their cameras at her. Lynda kept her eyes on the altar ahead. A string quartet played the traditional wedding march, but Lynda barely heard them.
By this afternoon, pictures of her in this insanely expensive Vera Wang dress would be all over the Internet. Everyone would know who she was. For a woman who had worked hard to avoid the limelight, despite having a father who couldn’t seem to stay out of the tabloids, this was her worst nightmare.
“Smile!” he hissed.
“This is my happy face.” She was smiling, although she imagined it looked forced. The media would jump all over that, but she couldn’t help it. This was the best she could manage today.
Lynda let her glance drift toward the groom. The man who would be her husband in less than an hour. The man who had agreed to marry her in order to save her family’s company. But this was a marriage in name only. It was a business arrangement. Her father had made sure Lynda knew that.
She’d met Merrick once when she was fifteen and he was twenty-six, at a party her father had given for business associates. Now, at forty years old, Merrick was still drop-dead gorgeous. No doubt about it. Her body responded to his good looks even though the two had barely spoken since the deal was struck. She’d never even kissed the man.
The aisle was long, so there was plenty of time to assess his looks as she walked. Dark hair, a bit longer than most men his age wore it, but on him it worked. He was graying at the temples, but that only added to the sexiness. His chocolate-colored eyes fueled the fantasies of women around the world. His wealth didn’t hurt, either, but Lynda had never been impressed with that. Her father was stinking rich, and it hadn’t made him a better person. Quite the opposite.
If rumors on the Internet could be believed, wealth hadn’t made Merrick Dalton a saint, either. He had deep, dark secrets. Secrets that had helped his meteoric rise to fame in the world of mergers and acquisitions. His company, Dalton Enterprises, had a business model that was now taught in MBA programs, but not everyone was his number one fan. There were plenty of undercurrents that strongly suggested he had ties to everything from the mob to hired assassins.
“Oh look!” Her father inclined his head to the right. “The governor is here.”
Oh goody. Lynda didn’t give a rat’s ass about the governor. She gave her father a quick glance. It was almost as difficult to pretend to like him as it was to pretend to be happy about this wedding. At least her uncles hadn’t shown up. She wouldn’t have been able to handle facing them both again and being forced to marry a man she didn’t know on the same day.
Lynda mentally shook away the memories of her uncles Ted and Tom, her father’s brothers, but not before her palms grew damp. André Massa, her wedding consultant, would throw a hissy fit if she started to visibly sweat before she reached the altar. She pushed the emotions down deep where she usually was able to keep them locked tightly away, and instead concentrated on walking. One foot in front of the other. Listen to the string quartet. They really are quite good. Think about your designs. That’s it. Much better now.
Lynda had earned an MFA five years ago and now worked freelance as a graphic designer because it made her happy, not because she aspired to be part of the crowd to which her father belonged. And she had never been part of the Merrick-worshipping gang, although she certainly understood their attraction to his looks.
Just this morning she’d read on Facebook about a group of women on the Upper East Side who had vowed to wear black for a year because he was no longer available. Lynda decided the group members were in serious need of a hobby. Or perhaps stronger medication.
They reached the steps leading to the altar, and her father shifted her hand toward Merrick’s. “She’s all yours,” he whispered. Lynda fought the sudden wave of panic washing over her. This would be okay. It would work out. And she’d be saving her family’s company.
“I’ll take good c
are of her, Todd.”
Lynda shivered. His voice was so smooth and tender. As he curled his fingers through hers, she dared to wonder if she’d ever hear it in bed. Until her father’s words rang in her ears.
This is a marriage in name only. It’s not a fairytale. You need to know that going in.
Merrick gave her an intense look filled more with lust than happiness, and tugged on her hand slightly when she hesitated to climb the last few stairs. She still didn’t move. Instead, she stared at him, uncertain.
Hellfire. The man was even more fucking gorgeous up close. But could she really handle being married to him? As in forever and ever, amen? Was her family’s company, their name, and her trust fund worth that?
Lynda clung to her last seconds of freedom before she climbed those steps and vowed before hundreds of people she barely knew that she would love, honor, and cherish this man until the day she died. The music stopped, and she swore she heard the crowd breathing behind her.
How could her father have let the company come to this? The only way to save it now was for her to marry Merrick. The company reverted to her when she turned thirty, or when she married, whichever came first.
She hadn’t known that little tidbit was in the trust provisions all these years. Her father had confessed he’d never bothered changing it after her mother died, twenty-eight years ago. He hadn’t thought it would matter.
But now, because he’d run it into the ground, Merrick had stepped in to save the day. He would marry Lynda, she would sign the company over to him, and voilà! The family business was saved. It was what Merrick did, after all. His business savvy was legendary, if a bit questionable. If anyone could fix the fucked-up mess her father had made, it was Merrick.
But why did she have to be part of the bargain? She had zero interest in running the family business. Her father knew that, and so did her uncles. From the time Lynda had understood the company was to be hers one day, she had made that known. It wasn’t who she was, and it never would be.
