Saints and Savages (A Mafia Series Book 2)

by A. C. Bextor

  “I agree,” I promise, using my calves to lower his jeans, baring all of him.

  Releasing me completely, Liam sits up and removes his shirt, then goes for mine. He makes quick work of my clothes before he slams his lips to my mouth, holding my head in place as he fills the kiss with hunger and dominance.

  Nowhere here is the same man he was during dinner. All traces of the quiet glances, sweet words, and acts of chivalry are gone.

  “Nothing between us,” he states, looking down and holding himself at my ready entrance. His finger glides across my clit and my body reacts, jolting in place.

  “I have that covered,” I whisper.

  With that, Liam slides inside, and a soft moan escapes my throat. Pulling out, then looking down and studying my reaction, he thrusts once, then again. Suddenly nervous under his gaze, I focus on his chest, the defined muscles moving in sync as he takes his time. In and out, again and again. The power of his restraint is overwhelming.

  “Così fottutamente bella,” he utters to himself. “Così fottutamente perfetta.”

  My insides clench as the Italian rolls off his tongue. I explore his chest and neck with my fingertips, encouraging him, and he starts to do the same. Centering his palm in the middle of my chest, he glides his fingers around my neck. He’s pinning me in place, calculating and dominating each subtle move between us—claiming his position.

  My heart drums against my chest.

  “Faster,” I beg, so close to finding release.

  Thrusting with deliberate intent, Liam states as if scolding, “This is ours. Mine and yours.”

  “Faster,” I plead again, crawling ever closer to the edge.

  Rather than do as I’ve requested, Liam slows. Frustration and anticipation temper my impending release.

  “Yours and mine,” I repeat, finally goading the reaction I’d hoped.

  When Liam’s drives become savage in nature, I’m lost.

  Physically I’ve reached my end. I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles at his back. My body quakes as I give him all that’s left. A small, shallow ache of gratification comes by way of my moan, which he hides with his mouth.

  Emotionally I’ve become unstable. I’m falling in love with a man who has the power to love and ruin me at once.

  As though sensing doubt, Liam grabs my hands, placing them over my head. Saying nothing, he stares down from above.

  Our eyes lock until he thrusts a final time and I watch as the cords of his neck protrude, his face reddening with exertion. His voice trembles as he whispers, “This is ours.”

  Yes. And now I’m his.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can go back to bed if you want to be alone,” Wren offers, standing across the living room wearing the tee shirt I’d given her before she fell asleep. Her thighs are bare, and the oversized shirt hangs loosely around her neck, revealing a generous amount of skin about her chest.

  She’d walked from the bedroom and found me sitting on the floor looking out the bay window of my condo. I hadn’t wanted to wake her by leaving. And I’ll never tell her she was snoring when I did.

  “No,” I deny, lifting my hand for her to take. She accepts and positions herself between my legs, her back to my front.

  “What are you doing out here?” she questions, staring at the city below.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Something on your mind?”

  Too much weighs on my mind to burden her. Besides, I finally have her in my home; after a nice dinner and having all of her the way I wanted, I won’t taint that.

  “No. Just couldn’t sleep.”

  “It’s surreal, you know.”

  “What is?”

  “Being here with you. Like this.”

  “Why do you sound surprised?”

  “I mean, I’ve crushed on you since the first time we met.”

  “You did a good job hiding that. I’ve never worked so hard to get into a girl’s pants as I did you.”

  Laughing, she sighs and teases, “You didn’t wait long to try.”

  “Patience isn’t my strong suit.”

  “No,” she quips. “It’s not.”

  After a lingering moment of silence, I brush my finger over her temple, and she lays her head on my shoulder.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “The same things that are always on my mind,” she answers.

  “Chase, for one,” I assume.

  “Yeah.”

  “I can deal with him for you.”

  I don’t tell Wren all the ways I’ll find to deal with him. Because those ways may include bargaining with Ciro and having Chase handled in a way that he’ll never be a heartache to her or any other woman again.

  “He’s not so bad. Like everyone else, he just gets crazy when he gets desperate.”

  “Don’t make excuses for him, Wren.”

  “So, what now?” she queries, changing the subject.

  Kissing the top of her head and twining her fingers between mine, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, last night….”

  “Last night was exactly what I wanted it to be. You, in my home, in my bed.”

  Wren clears her throat. “Yeah.”

  Shaking her in my arms, I rest my chin on her shoulder. She reaches up to touch my cheek.

  Playing, I prod, “I’d ask you to move in with me, but I’m guessing you’d say no.”

  Laughing, she pulls from my hold and turns in place to judge my intent. When she realizes I’m not far from serious, she mirrors my expression.

  “I don’t think you want me moving in. You don’t know what you’d be getting yourself into. I can be a pain in the ass.”

  “I already know this,” I reply, brushing her dark hair from her eyes. “How long did it take for you to say yes to dinner with me?”

  With a nervous glance, Wren inhales and closes her eyes before saying, “My life isn’t like yours, Liam.”

  “How so?”

  “We’re different. I’m not what you are.”

  Irritated by her insinuation, I object, “Don’t put yourself down.”

  “I’m not. I’m saying you and I came from different places in life. I like my life. It’s simple.”

  “And I like mine. It’s not simple, but it’s a good place for you to be. And I think I’d enjoy having you in it even more.”

  Turning around and staring back out at the city, Wren explains, “I grew up in quiet suburbia. My parents were good people.” Unsure where this is going, I keep quiet and let her talk. “They stayed home on Friday nights. We played Go Fish and Crazy Eights before we watched movies together on the couch until I fell asleep.”

  “Those are good memories, Wren. I’m glad you have that.”

  “I am, too. I miss them,” she tells me softly. “I wish they could’ve known you.”

  “They do,” I assure. Hoping to get Wren out of her own head, I shake her lightly in my arms. “My mom would’ve doted on you.”

  “I bet she doted on you plenty.”

  She did. I was the love of my mother’s life, aside from my father.

  I admit what I heard my mother tell Aunt Sofie. “My mother secretly always wanted a girl. She wanted me to have a sister.”

  “Do you want kids?” she questions.

  I’ve never given the idea much thought, mainly because I’d never found a woman I trusted enough to consider having a family.

  “I want kids,” I give her. “I want boys.”

  “Me, too,” she replies, then yawns.

  Hating to end this night, not knowing when time will allow another, I start to stand. “Let’s go back to bed. We both need sleep.”

  Cool air rushes my face as I push open the door to my trailer the rest of the way. Once I enter, I don’t close it behind me; the shock of taking in the state of my first home keeps me still.

  All thoughts of time spent with Liam last night are gone. The memory of his company, house, his bed—all of it. Gone.


  My kitchen cabinets have all been opened, a few having been left hanging by a single hinge. The freezer and refrigerator are the same, their contents littering the dirty linoleum floor.

  The drawers to the television stand are open, left splintered and in pieces. The contents are scattered, strewn about in various parts of the living room.

  The blanket I placed on the couch last week lies haplessly over its back, but the cushions have all been torn to shreds. Their stuffing has been removed, leaving tattered bits of material hanging limply at all sides.

  I’ve been robbed.

  “Well, look who finally made it home,” comes a male’s husky, malevolent voice, stinging my ears. “And your timing couldn’t be better.”

  Shivers creep down my spine, causing my fingers and toes to numb. My body’s fight-or-flight reaction locks me in place as if a noose has been wrapped tightly around my neck, only needing my fear to constrict my uneven breaths.

  Moving only my eyes to scan and then focus near the hallway entrance, I find a man I’ve never seen before staring back at me with malice and vulgarity. His shoulder and hip rest against the jamb, and his arms are crossed over his chest. As he uses only his jaded eyes to molest my body, I imagine him homing in on one devious thought.

  And that thought is what beckons my body to react.

  I turn and run.

  I’m not one step out of the front door before a pair of meaty hands tightly clutches my waist. My back slams against the man’s chest in a heart-pounding thud. The smell of stale cigarettes and body odor consumes the area between us, scaring me into compliance. But it’s his voice and the way it whispers in my ear that I fear the most.

  The tone he uses can only be described as living evil.

  “We’ve been waitin’ all day for you to join us, Wrennie.”

  He said “us.” We’re not alone.

  And he called me Wrennie.

  My eyes slam shut at the nickname only Chase has ever used. This man spews it with disgust, as though the name is as sick as he is.

  After swallowing hard, I muster the courage to ask, “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “She wants to know who we are.” His voice increases three levels as he shouts what I’ve asked directly into my ear, making me wince. He’s not talking to me but someone else.

  “Chase,” another man’s possessively dominant voice clips out from behind us. “Where the fuck is he?”

  The malicious animal still crushing me to him uses one hand to lift the hem of my uniform shirt. He snakes his cold and calloused fingers along my stomach, exploring my chilled skin. Raising it further, he presses his palm against my left breast.

  Instinctively, my body surges upward to avoid his abhorrent touch. The pain radiating in the arches of both feet echoes throughout my legs as I attempt to fend him off using only the tips of my toes.

  “Answer him, dirty cunt,” the man holding me hisses, aggressively squeezing my chest without mercy. His fingers latch onto my nipple through the thin lace material of my bra as though taunting me to cry out. “Or I’ll find a way to make you talk, Wrennie.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” I whisper, tears threatening to fall.

  I force my steady gaze out the open door, praying any aimless passerby stops to interfere.

  “Give her to me,” the dominant voice behind us commands.

  My captor whispers again, this time only for me to hear. “Pity we’ve been interrupted.”

  His wet tongue flattens against my cheek and he runs it disgustingly along my jaw before unmercifully biting my earlobe. I shudder fiercely when he moves to stand next to me, and then I become physically sick. He laughs as I brace my hands against my knees and fold my body over.

  “She tastes like used pussy. But now she smells like days-old stench,” he tells the room. Grabbing my arms, he forces me upright. Then he turns me, pushing me into the arms of the other man I heard but didn’t see.

  This man is different. On the outside, he appears clean—freshly shaven, skin smelling of soap, no visible marks of dirt or grime as the other man had. I refuse his cold eyes and instead study the label of his worn black leather vest.

  SAINT’S JUSTICE MC

  ELEVENT

  PRESIDENT

  Oh my God.

  Saint’s Justice—the men Chase works for. The men who use him as a convenience and then discard him like trash. Those who helped make him unrecognizable to me.

  Oh God, Chase. What have you done?

  My heartbeat races, the rushing sound of blood thrusting violently into my ears. My lips are dry due to the shallow but rapid breaths I’m stealing. My body is left to faint trembles. If Elevent weren’t holding me so tightly to him, I’d be lying on the floor, if only for escape.

  The room starts to spin in a small, shallow circle.

  The fragmented figments of my nightmare laugh. I’ve already memorized the sound of their voices, the smell of their skin, and the look in their deadened eyes.

  “I’m going to ask you again,” Elevent states evenly, absent of any danger or emotion. “This time, just give me everything you know.”

  His deep and sultry voice isn’t so unlike a soft serenade, lost in the midst of the chaotic terror inside. Nothing about him is as threatening as the man I feel closing in from behind, pushing himself into me and forcing my body closer to Elevent’s.

  Gently, Elevent coaxes, “Do you have any idea at all where Chase could be?”

  Fearing I’ll give the wrong answer, I choose my words carefully, using the same tone he had. “I’m so sorry,” I reply as my voice begins to break. “I really don’t know. If I knew, I—”

  The slap to my ass from behind comes fast and hard, jarring me in place. The disgusting lurch of a man pushes his rigid cock against my lower back before giving the sting a chance to lessen.

  “Come on, El. Let’s make her talk,” he spits out. “I wanna hear her scream.”

  “Thanatos,” Elevent snaps, lifting his chin over my head at the same time. “Step outside.”

  Thanatos. A name I know I’ll never forget.

  Once he’s dismissed, the heat from my back disappears. The slam of the door and the ticking of Elevent’s jaw continue to hold me attentively hostage.

  Elevent looks down, his expressionless eyes examining my fearful ones before he grasps my hips with his large hands and pushes me back a single step. He’s still close, but I find solace in the small freedom I’ve just seemingly been granted.

  “Chase is in a fuckload of trouble, Wren. He’s pissed a lot of people off, and I’m about to be his biggest problem,” he explains evenly. My eyes lose focus on his as he continues, “Unfortunately for you, this has made you collateral damage.”

  “What?” I blurt out. “I’m not with Chase anymore. He doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “But you mean something to him,” he corrects. “This is all the warning Chase will get. He owes me something, and I’m going to collect. If he doesn’t get it all to me fuckin’ soon, we’ll take you as payment.”

  “But I’m telling you, I don’t know anything about Chase. I don’t know where he is or when he’s coming back.”

  Elevent continues as if I’d said nothing. “And we’ll call that even.”

  “Oh God,” I whisper, my voice like cracking glass.

  Elevent’s eyes fall to my lips, taking in my open mouth. He breathes in deeply before a spark of heat shines in his narrowed eyes.

  His cleaner appearance and softer tone in comparison to the other man are a trap, and I’ve been caught in their clutches. When I take another step back, ever so slowly, he reaches out and pulls me to him again. I lock my arms between us; they’re my only source of protection, as weak as they may be.

  When Elevent bends at the waist just slightly, the mist of his breath fans my lips. “I don’t hurt women, Wren,” he tells me to my relief. Though it’s short-lived as he finishes with, “That’s why I have Thanatos.”

  No!

  His in
tended meaning is clear, his way of forcing me to help him get what he wants explained. When he’s satisfied with the trembling of my limbs and the paleness I’m certain covers my face, he releases my waist and heads to the door.

  I don’t turn around to ensure he’s truly gone; the scary presence diminishes in the room, which is enough to understand that he’s finished with me.

  For now.

  Ciro sits in a red leather chair, aggressively tapping the end of his gold pen against his mahogany desk in frustration. Nighttime has never been a good time for Ciro’s thoughts, as they tend to spiral into the fiery dissensions of his own darkness. The quiet minutes within these hours only serve to further fuel his already angered fury.

  The nephew he’d raised from helpless child to determined young man owes him a great deal, he feels. He’s patiently waited all these years for Liam’s half-Irish blood to fully flush from his system. Anxiously, he’s anticipated the day his young nephew realizes the error of his ways in choosing to move forward with his life as a doctor of medicine versus immersing himself in his rightful place inside the heart of the family business—ultimately to sit in leadership at his uncle’s side.

  Ciro had approached Liam only a few months ago with what he deemed a mutually lucrative offer. If Liam agreed to leave his current employ and become the exclusive family physician, Ciro would make his only nephew a very wealthy man.

  In turn, Liam would be the only blood relation ever to serve as a directly paid employee of sorts. The services this position would require included minor medical care to all members and their families, as well as other more invasive procedures such as the occasional gunshot wound, stab wound, drug overdose, and the like.

  But, to Ciro’s disappointment, Liam adamantly refused, citing he believed in the work he was doing for those less fortunate and pointed out those poor citizens of this city were who needed him the most.

  Picking up his desk phone and clicking the red button to record the conversation for safety and insurance as he always does, Ciro dials Killian Dawson, not noticing or caring about the time or how the intrusion at this hour may be received.

  When Killian answers with the same tiredness and tension Ciro feels himself, he knows Killian has also not been resting.