by B. B. Hamel
Which means nobody knows where his bunker is located.
Only the people I vet and hire.
And Roza, but she barely counts.
In all the years I’ve known Roman, we’ve never had a leak. There was an intruder one time, but it was some drunk local kid searching for a place to piss. I put the fear of death in that little bastard and he won’t be talking to anyone or returning anytime soon.
This wasn’t the same thing. I could see it in Rocco’s expression.
He was spooked, and Marines didn’t spook easy.
“Take me to him.”
Rocco turned on his heel and strode off. I followed down the drive, along a blacktop pathway that I was sure Roman had never once stepped foot on, and into a small side room that was built to resemble a fancy detached garage.
Inside was a security fortress. The grounds were wired and covered in cameras top to bottom. An ant didn’t shit without me knowing about it. Several of my guys sat around looking at monitors, pretending to be busy—which was bullshit, but I appreciated the hustle. Rocco took me down a short side hallway, and into a small interrogation closet.
The man was young, mid-twenties, with a gaunt face and dark hair. He looked at me with no expression at all. Mikey, another one of my contractors, sat across from him smoking a cigarette.
“Everyone out.”
Mike jumped up, glanced back at the prisoner, then got out of there. My boys know not to question my orders.
Rocco shut the door and locked it.
The prisoner stared. He looked like a tourist. Shorts, polo shirt. Clean shaven.
But I knew a player when I saw one. He should’ve been terrified—but he was eerily calm.
“You want to skip the games and start talking, or should I take my time?”
He tilted his head. “I guess you’re Erick.”
I pulled out the chair and sat. “And you are?”
“My name’s Roger. Well, one of my names, anyway.”
“Okay, Roger. I appreciate you not trying to pretend like you’re some lost bird-watcher.”
“I thought about playing that game with your men, but I doubt I’d fool you.”
“That saves us a lot of time. So here’s the thing, I’m most likely going to kill you, but you can save your life if you’re willing to work with me.”
“I understand. I need money and an escape route.”
“I can provide cash but the escape’s on you. If we’re caught working with an Oligarch’s man, then we might have some serious problems.”
He hesitated, calculating. “Alright. I can handle that.”
“Good. And thank you for confirming that you’re from an Oligarch.” He grimaced. I smiled and waved a hand. “Don’t feel bad. It’s a high-pressure situation. Easy to make a rookie mistake.
“Half a million and assurances. Then I’ll talk.”
“Done. Half a million and my word that you’ll leave the grounds alive.”
He sucked in a breath and let it out. “Darren Servant sent me.”
“Well fuck.” I drummed my fingers on the table. Not professional, but I couldn’t help it.
If Darren Servant knew about this location, we were going to have a massive problem.
The Bunker was Roman’s favorite home. It was his most secure place in the entire world. It was his freaking fortress of solitude, and nobody knew about it, especially not the other Oligarchs.
Now we had a breach.
And worst of all, it was Darren fucking Servant.
I hated that guy.
“He doesn’t know what’s inside, if it makes you feel any better. He knows there’s something underground, but the place is pretty well shielded, which is why he sent me.”
“Looks like you weren’t much help.”
He shrugged like it was no big thing. “You have good security.”
“Damn right I do.” I pushed my chair back. “Alright, you got anything else for me?”
“One more thing.” Roger, or whatever his name was, glanced up to the camera in the corner. “Turn that off.”
I arched my eyebrows. “That serious, huh?”
“Please.”
I poked my head outside. “Turn off the cameras,” I called out.
A second later, the red LED winked off.
I gestured for him to go ahead.
Roger cleared his throat. Now the fucker looked nervous. “Darren’s taking this whole thing pretty seriously. I’ve never seen him arm up like this before and I’ve worked with him for a few years now on some very deep shit. I think he intends to do your boss harm, and I think he intends to do it soon.”
“How soon? What kind of threat are we looking at here?”
“He bought a shipment of very illegal gas from some shady men from the Balkans last week.”
I whistled. “Gas? That’s pretty intense.” But wouldn’t work: the bunker was equipped some of the most insane air scrubbing technology on the market. The first sign of gas would shut the whole system down until the stuff could be filtered out before it ever reached anyone’s lungs, even assuming Darren had some way to inject it, which he wouldn’t. So the gas was a red herring.
“He also knows about the girl, and I think he plans on doing something to her.”
Now that was more interesting.
We knew that, of course. Roman wasn’t hiding Cassie.
But if Darren wanted to target her, that might be a problem.
She was a liability.
“Thanks for the information. I’ll take it under advisement.”
Roger nodded at me, glanced at the camera, then down at the table. “Darren’s weak right now. Whatever’s going on with the Irish, they’ve been pushing back against his orders. If you wanted to strike, now’s the time.”
I stared at him for a long moment. “I’ll consider about it.”
“Sure. You do that. And hey, if you ever need another guy to help out around here, I’m looking for a job.”
I smiled and left the room.
Rocco met me outside. “What do you think?”
“Take him out beyond the fence and shoot him in the skull.”
Rocco nodded. “Yes, boss. But, uh, didn’t you promise to let him leave?”
“I promised to let him exit the grounds safely. That fucker in there’s trying to bait me into attacking Darren. This whole fucking thing’s a honeypot. Put a bullet in his head and be done with it.”
“Yes, sir.”
I walked off, pissed as hell.
Roman needed to know, but not yet. I had to do a little research first before I burst his bubble. Let him have some time to clean the blood off his hands, at least.
The guy deserved it. Been a hard few weeks.
But that Roger spook in there, I couldn’t believe a word he said. Maybe the gas thing was true, but the rest of it was garbage, absolute trash spewing from his lips.
He wanted to goad me into making a move on Darren, and it almost worked.
But Oligarchs didn’t attack each other like that and he should’ve known it. Any Oligarch that made a direct move against another would end up killed by all the others. It was an unspoken rule they all followed, and the one rule I knew I could never, ever break.
Killing Roger was no big deal. Darren would never admit Roger was his guy—that would be like admitting he made the first move. Roger was fair game. But anything more direct, anything without good cover, that couldn’t happen.
We fucked with each other in the shadows. It was a cold war we fought, pitting proxies against each other.
But nothing direct. That was the rule.
Trying to get us to go for Darren was like trying to make us commit suicide.
The fucker was playing a game.
Problem was, why?
What did Darren want from all this?
Except for what they always wanted: more power.
Rocco emerged from the closet a moment later with Roger in tow. He nodded at me and I nodded back.
De
ad man walking. Poor bastard. Wasn’t good enough.
I turned away and began to plan, worry tangling up my guts.
27
Cassie
Blood ran off his hands in pink streams. He stood in the shower, letting the water blast off his skin. I lingered in his bathroom, touching the spots on his shirt.
“You can’t wash this out,” I said, holding up the stained jacket. “There’s too much of it.”
“Burn the damn thing. I don’t care.”
“Easy for you to say. There are starving people in Africa that would gladly, uh, wear this suit, I guess.”
“Then send it to Africa.” But he smiled.
“What happened out there?”
He ran his fingers through his wet hair. I tried not to look at his muscular body, at his long, thick cock and the way the water dripped off him in sensual rivulets, but it was very, very hard.
Difficult, I mean.
“I started a war.” He spoke like it was no big deal, like he was ordering pizza on a Tuesday night. “A lot of people are going to die.” He turned off the shower.
I handed him a towel. “Isn’t that bad?”
“These aren’t nice people.”
“Still, killing’s not good.”
“It’s relative.” He mussed up his hair then wrapped it around his waist. “Manzi’s dead.”
I went very still.
I could taste the musky air that night. The bay teemed with life and rotting plants. The boards under my feet creaked with my weight. The salty, icy wind blew through my stiff hair.
And Dia’s skull shattered beneath the bullet.
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure. Pulled the trigger myself.” He reached up and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “You liked her, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know her at all, but she had this confidence.”
“I met Dia twice. You’re right, she was confident, probably too confident for the sort of men she kept around.”
“What’s that mean?”
He walked past me into his room and got dressed. I wished he wouldn’t, but leaned against the bathroom door and watched.
“Mafioso aren’t known for their liberal ideas about gender equality. Dia fucked around too much and got killed for it. She thought her good looks and charm and her daddy’s stature in the Ramos Cartel would keep her alive, and she was wrong. Confidence is good, but overconfidence can get you killed.”
“So you’re suggesting she deserved it then? She asked for it?”
He shook his head. “Of course not. I’m saying you can learn from Dia’s mistake.”
“Why? Do you plan on killing me if I speak up too much?”
He sighed and wiped a hand down his face. “I’m trying to teach you something here. If you’re going to be in a room with a certain kind of person, be aware of what they expect from you. Play into those expectations and don’t do anything dangerous. Then, if you want to, you can use their own blindness against them. Play the game and play it better. Dia was too confident to bother with any of that, and she ended up dead.”
He pulled on a pair of loose cotton trousers and a tight V-neck shirt that showed off his muscular chest. His hair was still damp and messy and his skin glistened in the light.
“Why do I need to know any of this?” I asked softly, my heart in my throat, beating away so fast I thought I might choke. “We’re not really married. You’re not trying to turn me into a mob wife.”
He tilted his head. “What if I am?”
“We didn’t discuss that.”
“Maybe I want to keep you now.”
I clenched my jaw. “You told me you wanted to get close to Oisin. You said you needed me for that. I promised I’d play along, but we never said it would last forever. Only until Oisin was dead.”
“We never said when the game would end, my little doll.” He came forward me but I pushed him away and tried to get past. He caught my wrist and pushed me down onto the bed, and I let out a pissed-off snarl and kicked him in the chest. He laughed, knocking my feet away, and crawled up on top of me.
I fought, struggled, and I ended up pinned down on my stomach, my hands behind my back, his lips next to my throat.
“Why are you doing this?” I said through my teeth.
“Because I there’s nothing sweeter than a tight, wet pussy after I’ve killed a man, and yours is best when you’re nice and angry.”
“You fucking asshole. So you’re pissing me off on purpose just so you can fuck me?”
His fingers moved up my legs. I wore a pair of shorts and thin black panties beneath them. My stomach twisted with fear and desire.
“That’s exactly right.”
“It doesn’t normally work like that.”
“Then stop me.” He sounded like he enjoyed my fight. His one hand kept me pinned and the other teased my pussy, moving up and down my mound before yanking my shorts down.
I gasped, tossed my head back. He chuckled darkly as his fingers pushed aside my panties and ran up and down my swollen, soaked lips.
“You love to act like you don’t want this, my little doll, but every time I strip you bare, I keep finding you soaking wet.”
“I want you to say you won’t force me to stay married to you forever.” I spoke through my jaw because otherwise I’d let out big, low moans of pleasure. He slipped his fingers inside of me, not being gentle, then spanked my ass.
I gasped and bit my lip so hard I thought it might bleed.
“I can’t say that. I like you Cassie. I want to keep playing with you.”
“This isn’t a game.”
He spanked me again, kissed my neck, bit my earlobe. “But I think it is.” Then sank his fingers inside.
I moaned, biting down against the sheets. I felt his pressure ease and looked back as he pulled down his pants, his cock long and stiff. He pressed it against my aching, gaping pussy, teasing me with his head, and I tried to get away, but he pinned me down again. He spread my legs with his knees and sunk himself deep inside.
I gasped at the flash of incredible pain and bliss. He filled me from behind, my body pinned to the mattress, and he let out an animal growl of pleasure. He spanked my ass and slowly fucked me in and out, cock driving harder and deeper, and I tried hard to keep my mouth shut.
I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making me come.
But god, it felt so good. Especially when I struggled. I loved that he could push me down, and that he did with ease. I needed him to pin me, hold me down, and fuck me like an animal, to make me feel more pleasure than I’d ever felt before.
And as his cock stroked in and out, and he spanked my ass cheeks raw, I kept thinking about staying here forever in his bunker, living my days as his wife, hidden from the world but given everything I desired—pampered, spoiled, pleasured like a goddess, like a worshipped house cat. He’d bring me anything I needed and keep me safe, and at night he’d fuck me raw and vicious, make me come and scream his name, and the fantasy was equally arousing and revolting.
I was supposed to want something more—my freedom, a job, independence, something. Instead, I wanted this man, his cock, his arms and lips and throat and teeth and tongue, I wanted him to pin me and fuck me, I wanted him to spoil me and tease me, and most of all, I wanted his power, I wanted all the things he could provide and more, because otherwise I was some server in a sleepy beach town for the rest of my life, a nobody with nothing to do and nowhere to go, a broken shell of a human.
But with Roman, I was alive.
He could give me that.
I started moving my hips. I slid down his shaft and pushed back against him. He groaned as I got my knees under me and lifted my pussy and ass into the air. He spanked me rough, but I kept going, working my back and legs and bucking against him, pushing harder and harder, taking him deeper inside and moaning with a reckless fury, so angry that he’d dare keep me longer than we agreed, and so needy for his thick cock. I was dizzy, confused, wrap
ped up in his luxury, in his intoxicating presence, in his strength.
My fingers dug into the sheets. He released my arms and I kept going, faster, panting, gasping, sweating, working. He grabbed my hair hard and spanked me, again and again, and we fucked, rough and raw, slick and gorgeous, and the world outside was gone, the blood under his fingernails an afterthought, the stained clothes in the bathroom didn’t matter.
I came on his shaft, throwing my head back. He came a moment later, filling me with his heat, and I groaned and begged for him to keep going, I wanted it deep between my legs, I was stupid and mindless, and falling into a hole of more bliss, until slowly we crawled back out together and he wrapped his arms around me.
I nuzzled against his chest. Pleased, contained.
“Good girl.” He kissed my forehead. “Do you know how much I love to be inside of you?”
“About as much as I like it, I bet.”
“Oh, little doll, even more.” He breathed deep, smelling me. “You can leave when this is all over, I won’t stop you, but I think you won’t want to go. Life outside will be dull and worthless. You already make my days brighter.”
“Pretty words for such a monster.”
“Even monsters can say the right thing sometimes.” He chewed on my lip.
There was a knock at the door.
He sighed, like a bear releasing a pent-up breath.
“What?” he called.
“It’s me. We need to talk.” Erick’s voice outside the door.
He must’ve waited until we were done. I felt myself blush.
Roman kissed me and got out of bed. He dressed as I crawled under the sheets and covered myself completely. I heard the door open and a soft conversation. Then he left and the door shut behind him.
He wanted to keep me.
Forever.
Except I wondered: how long could he possibly want me, really?
Sooner or later he’d get bored.
And then what would I be?
Attached to a man that didn’t care.
I never asked for any of this. And now it felt like I had no other choice but to follow him down this path and pray.
