Guilty by Blood (Santiago Family)

by CJ Bishop

“Yeah. Some guy came in this morning asking for his address.”

  The two men exchanged glances. “What man?” Sanchez asked. “What was his name?”

  “Don’t know. He didn’t give one.” She smiled. “But he was a hottie. We had some fun time in one of the booths.”

  Cruz didn’t need those kind of details. “What did he want with Armand?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t say. He said he was a friend, but I don’t think he was. He just said it was important that he talk to him.”

  “Did he get his address?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did he look like?” Sanchez asked.

  She looked thoughtful. “Early twenties, about your height and build,” she told Cruz. “Dark hair with blond highlights. Delicious blue/gray eyes.”

  Cruz nodded. “Thanks.”

  She grabbed his arm when he turned away. “Why don’t you boys stick around. I’ll give you two lap dances for the price of one.” She caressed his arm. “We could have a real good time, the three of us together. What do you say?”

  “Sorry, darling,” Cruz said and squeezed Sanchez’s ass. “My boy here supplies all the entertainment I need.”

  Her face scrunched with disappointment, then brightened. “Well, maybe you just need to sample some feminine flesh to straighten you out.” She cupped her tits, hardly concealed beneath a skimpy transparent top. “I ain’t met a man yet that can resist these luscious babies.”

  Cruz raised one eyebrow. “You just met two.” He and Sanchez left the club.

  Once outside, Sanchez breathed deep of the evening air, clearing his lungs. “The Phoenix club smells like a fucking gourmet bakery compared to that place.” He coughed and cleared his throat.

  Cruz chuckled. “Yeah, well, what do you expect? The Phoenix is high end and filled with classy, sexy boys who don’t need to drench themselves in cheap cologne to attract customers.”

  “Amen to that.” Sanchez smiled and draped his arm around Cruz’s shoulders. “Speaking of which, I think we may be overdue for a visit.” He wagged his eyebrows. “Hm?”

  Laughing lightly, Cruz nodded. “I could go for that.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside Armand’s apartment door. Cruz knocked and waited.

  Nothing. Silence inside.

  Cruz knocked again. Waited.

  Nothing.

  Sanchez tested the door knob. It twisted easily in his grip. He looked at Cruz and cocked an eyebrow.

  “If he isn’t here,” Cruz said. “The least we can do is leave a calling card.”

  They entered the apartment. “Hey, Armand,” Sanchez called. “You here-” He halted abruptly.

  “What?” Cruz froze when he saw what Sanchez had spotted; the bloody smears on the wall. “What the fuck?” he murmured and instinctively drew his weapon. Sanchez did likewise. They ventured on cautiously.

  The two men found Armand in the kitchen.

  Brains in the sink. Body slumped on the floor.

  Dead as a doornail.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Sleeping With the Enemy”

  ______________________________________________

  Caterina’s text came in at 7:35 that evening. Flynn sat on his bed, his cock fully erect with anticipation. His body burning for her touch. His heart beating with force. And his mind…uncertain.

  It’s just one more night and then we’re through. It doesn’t matter who she is—you’re just going to fuck her and be done with her. You don’t have to “know” anything about her. You don’t have to give a shit.

  He had beat up her ex-boyfriend because the man wouldn’t leave her alone and possibly posed a threat; wasn’t that “giving a shit”? Had he already crossed a line he couldn’t uncross? His face pinched with frustration and annoyance; she was just a random woman—why was he getting so worked up? He’d fucked plenty of women and none of them had affected him this way. Some of them he hadn’t even known their names, and very few had known his, and that was the way he liked it—total anonymity.

  So, why had he broken his own rules with Caterina? And why did it have to happen with her of all people?

  The text notification hovered on his cell, waiting to be read. He opened the message. Caterina was asking if they were still on for tonight and, if so, when should she come over.

  Get rid of her now. Right this instant. This woman is going to cause you too much trouble.

  Just tell her he had changed his mind and didn’t want to see her tonight. It was simple enough. A couple lines of text, then send, and it was done and over with. Easy as fucking pie. Except his fingers refused to type out the rejection.

  He stared at the cursor, the empty message box…and watched two words appear.

  Yes. Now.

  Send.

  Done.

  Flynn exhaled hard and tossed the phone on the nightstand and raked his fingers through his hair. In all his twenty-two years, he’d never felt so helpless to a girl before. It was always him in control, calling the shots. Saying when, where, and how often they fucked. It might appear—according to her text—that he was the one calling the shots with Caterina as well, and maybe on the surface, he was. But his reply had been a result of his inability to turn her away. So, who was truly in control?

  For the next twenty minutes, he berated himself for his decision. She was a Santiago—this would not end well if he took it much further. He couldn’t take it any further than tonight. If his father found out about her…

  Flynn shut the thought down real quick.

  For her sake, it had to end with tonight.

  •

  The sudden butterflies weren’t expected, yet they burst into a frenzied flutter in Caterina’s stomach as she approached Flynn’s apartment and stopped outside his door. She was troubled by this effect Flynn was having on her. They were supposed to be in this for some fun sex and nothing more, still her heart pounded wildly and body tingled all over, knowing he was on the other side of that door. If it had merely been sexual tingles, that would have been acceptable…but it wasn’t just sexual.

  Girl, get a hold of yourself. Don’t ruin this by making it into more than it is. Just enjoy the man and, in the morning, kiss him goodbye, walk away, and don’t look back.

  Why did she think that would be easier said than done? Perhaps it was the sense of disappointment at the idea of never seeing him again? A disappointment that reached deeper inside her than it should have so soon after meeting him.

  Letting out a suppressed breath, she knocked on the door.

  It opened seconds later and Flynn stood before her, freshly showered and smelling like heaven. He wasn’t “dressed up”, but had definitely taken some care to look nice. His black button shirt was open at the neck, the hem tucked into gray jeans that fit wonderfully snug. When her inspection reached his feet, she found socks but no shoes.

  Flynn smiled and shrugged. “We’re staying in. Didn’t see any reason for shoes.” He stared at her for a long moment as if seeing her for the time.

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  Flynn nodded. “Absolutely. Please come in.”

  “You look nice,” Caterina said. “Smell nice, too.”

  Flynn closed the door. “Just because we’re hooking up for a fuck-fest doesn’t mean I shouldn’t make myself presentable.” He looked her over quite thoroughly, appreciation in his eyes for her tight black slacks and white silk blouse. His focus went to her black high-heels. “No ball-crushing boots tonight?”

  Caterina smiled. “They’re reserved for the assholes in my life.”

  “Well…” Flynn slid his hand into her hair and leaned in, lips brushing her mouth. “Here’s to the eradication of assholes from your life.” He kissed her deeply and she instinctively sank against him, gripping his shirt. Flynn moaned then drew out of the kiss with one final suck of her lower lip. “Go to the bedroom,” he murmured with a rasp. “I’ll be right in.”

  Her legs trembled a little as she n
odded and walked on down the hall as Flynn went into the kitchen. As soon as she entered his bedroom, last night came rushing back in clarifying detail. Heat shot through her body and her inner muscles contracted, conjuring a low throbbing ache in her core. She wondered if she was becoming addicted to Flynn. Or addicted to his dick. It would be better if that was all it was.

  Caterina sat on the bed and reached down, slowly slipping off her shoes. When Flynn finally joined her, he brought with him a bottle of wine and two glasses. She felt the surprise on her face. “Wine?”

  “Why not?” He smiled and set the bottle and glasses on the nightstand. “Wine and sex go together, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose they do.”

  He filled the glasses half full and handed one to Caterina then kneeled before her with his own glass, raising it in a toast. “To stamina and endurance.”

  Caterina laughed softly. “Here. Here.” They clinked glasses and took a drink.

  Flynn set aside his wine and ran his hands up Caterina’s thighs, opening her legs as he moved in closer. She continued to sip her from her glass as he plucked open her blouse and cupped her breasts, his strong hands kneading her warm flesh. A shaky breath escaped her and she set the glass on the nightstand. She caressed his forearms then his shoulders, and slid her fingers up the back of his head, their eyes locking, gazing deep.

  “I have to confess,” she whispered with a shaky voice. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight since I left you this morning.”

  “Well, if we’re confessing…” Flynn kissed her and slipped his warm, slick tongue into her mouth, drawing a moan from deep inside her. He sucked her tongue slowly, sensually until her loins ached maddeningly. She was so wet and so ready to be fucked by him. He tugged her tongue as he withdrew. “I’ve been looking forward to it as well.”

  She swallowed thickly and trailed her fingertips down his face, her thumbs tracing his damp lips. “I want you inside me so bad.”

  He smiled. “All in good time.” Flynn laid her down on the bed and unfastened her slacks, tugging the hem of her shirt free and spreading it open, off her chest. He kissed her stomach, her navel, and lower to the band of her lace panties. She trembled when he massaged his thumbs into her pussy through her slacks, the fabric slipping easily between her wet folds.

  “Mmm…” Her hips lifted in response and her stomach quivered as his tongue rimmed her belly button and dipped in. His mouth dragged lower until his face was buried between her thighs. He bit and sucked at her pussy through the material of her pants, probing her clit with his strong tongue. “Uuhh…” She grabbed his head, her throat sudden barren and dry as she arched to him.

  Moments later, Flynn pulled her slacks down her legs and off her feet then urged her further onto the bed before lifting her legs and placing her feet on the edge of the mattress. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and shoved his face into heat again, slithering his tongue up and down the crotch of her thin lace panties, now drenched with her juices. The delicate fabric sank between her pussy lips as Flynn worked her sensitive button mercilessly.

  “Uuhh—God!” The orgasm exploded sudden and forceful, tearing her breath away. She clawed Flynn’s scalp, grasping handfuls of hair as her hips thrust up and she cried out again. “Fuck! Yes…”

  He peeled aside her panties and spread her wide open, licking her wet pussy with his full tongue. She shuddered and moaned, breath erratic. Two long, strong fingers slid inside her and began to pump into her tight, flexing canal as Flynn latched onto her clit and sucked.

  “Oh fuck…fuck…fuuuhhh!” Caterina came again, harder than before, rocking her pussy urgently on his fingers. “Oh fuck yes—yes—Oh God yes! Fuck…”

  Her eyes were squeezed tight and before she realized Flynn had abandoned her pussy, she was tasting her own juices on his tongue as he kissed her hard and hungry. He gripped her ass and ground his hard, bulging crotch between her thighs, the coarse denim of his jeans raking her throbbing clit.

  Caterina moaned into his mouth and clawed at his body, hands shaking as she worked open his shirt and hurried tugged it off his shoulders, down his arms. “Oh God, Flynn,” she whimpered. “Fuck me…please fuck me…”

  •

  All thoughts of her family origins were long gone as Flynn’s cock strained the crotch of his jeans, her wetness seeping through the denim. Her need to be fucked by him was gasoline on his already raging fire. He quickly unfastened the front clasp of her bra and devoured her tits, sucking and biting her hot plump flesh as he worked her bra and shirt all the way off.

  Caterina moaned and writhed beneath him, grabbing at him, lifting to him, wanting him.

  Flynn withdrew and snagged her panties on his way back, dragging them off her hips and down her supple legs, off her feet, tossing them away. He stood and shed his jeans and briefs, his cock hard as a steel rod and dripping cum juice. Swollen veins snaked up his shaft and his balls were tight—hard—aching like a bitch to empty their load.

  When he went for the nightstand drawer for a condom, Caterina sat forward and wrapped her soft hands around his dick, her slender fingers curling his thick shaft, stroking, twisting, pumping…driving him fucking wild. “Fuck…” He swallowed hard as his cock began to pulse against her palms. He abandoned the condom for the moment, unable to move at all as she worked him into a sexual frenzy. “Oh fuck, baby,” he groaned tightly. “You’re gonna make me come.”

  Rather than stop, Caterina took his cock head in her mouth and sucked him strong and firm.

  “Holy fuck…” Flynn’s legs trembled and he grabbed her head, pushing his hips forward, urging her to take more of him. Her mouth opened and throat relaxed as his plump cock head slid across the back of her tongue and squeezed into her throat canal. “Oh fuck yeah, baby…fuck yeah…yeah…oh my God…suck my cock, girl…”

  Caterina sucked his cock, sliding her hot, wet mouth up and down his throbbing shaft, moaning and whimpering. She squeezed his tight balls, massaged them in her soft hand, until he was shouting and unloading down her throat. She sucked him a few seconds more then pulled up off him and stroked him with her hands as she kissed his trembling abdomen. He had hardly gone down, his dick remaining heavy and semi-stiff in her fists.

  “Get into bed,” he shuddered, his voice thick and unsteady as he yanked open the stand drawer, grabbed a condom packet, and ripped it open with his teeth.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Lust & Love”

  ______________________________________________

  Caterina was already gone when Cruz and Sanchez returned from Armand’s apartment. Cruz was on edge; who had gone after Armand? His gut kept pulling him in a direction he didn’t want to go and for which he had no plausible cause for suspicion.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” He paused outside the front door of the large house.

  “It can wait.” A troubled frown pinched Sanchez’s face, his mind on Armand’s untimely death.

  “What did you mean about us being honest?” Cruz asked anyway. “Aren’t we always honest with each other?”

  Sanchez nodded. “Most of the time, yes.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It can wait,” Sanchez repeated and opened the door. “We have more pressing matters to deal with.”

  The two men walked down the hall, headed for Lorenzo’s study where he spent most of his evenings. They approached the study and entered through the open door. His father was going over the books and looked up when they came in. Cruz said, “We have an accountant for that, papá.”

  “I know.” Lorenzo smiled. “I like to stay informed. I’m not interfering with Vincenzo’s record keeping. Just looking at the figures, mijo.” His good humor faded like a veil falling away as he stood up. “We need to talk about Anthony and Angelo’s visit.”

  The two younger men exchanged a look. “Is something wrong?”

  “Possibly.”

  “What did they tell you?” Sanchez asked.

  Cruz held up his hand. “Befo
re we get into that,” he spoke to his father. “We have something to tell you.”

  Instant concern shadowed the older man’s eyes.

  “We went to Armand’s apartment to speak with him,” Cruz said. “Caterina agreed that he should not be coming around her anymore. It was time he understood this and left her alone.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Armand is dead.”

  Lorenzo frowned, uncertain. “What?”

  “Not us, papá,” Cruz assured. “We found him. He was beaten and shot in the head.”

  “Do you know who killed him?”

  Cruz shook his head. “No.”

  “Any thoughts on who would target him?” his father asked.

  “He may have enemies we don’t know about,” Cruz said.

  “Does mija know?”

  “Not yet,” Sanchez said. “We haven’t spoken to her since we found him. She’s out with the man from last night. She won’t be home until tomorrow.”

  “Did she tell you anything about this man?”

  “Some,” Cruz said. “Not much. She told me that Armand showed up at the pub last night and tried to make her go home with him. She thinks he followed her there. She said if it wasn’t for this other man, Armand may have gotten violent with her.”

  Lorenzo stared at them, eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “This man saw Armand getting rough with her?”

  “Yes.”

  Rubbing his chin, Lorenzo stared down at the desk. “Is there any chance that this man is involved in Armand’s death?” He raised his eyes, deep concern pouring into his gaze. “That would be drastic action for a woman he just met,” Lorenzo murmured uneasily. “That would make him unstable at best.”

  “Extremely dangerous at worst,” Sanchez whispered. “If it was him, Cat could be dealing with a dangerously obsessed man.”

  Cruz’s gut tightened. “She’s with him now.” He realized they could be jumping to all the wrong conclusions and they really had no cause to suspect the man. So why was he the first one to come to mind while Cruz stood over Armand’s dead body and considered the suspects? His gut feelings were rarely wrong.