Take All Of Me: A Brother’s Best Friend, Sibling Rivalry Romantic Suspense Novel (The Takers Series Book 1)

by Sienna Evans

  When the dust would finally settle, I had every intention of walking away from this dirty…filthy…messed up life. My goal had always been a quick in and out, close to eight years later, and I was still a slave to this. But Celeste was now a part of the equation, and there was no way in hell I'd put her life on the line.

  “Greyson…Greyson?” Naila brought me back. “Are you still there?”

  “Umm, yeah. Guess I'm still tired.”

  “Understandably,” she teased into the line like we were old friends.

  Again, I grunted in response.

  “You're a tough one,” she offered as a compliment. Her words seemed slurred, on purpose.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “We noticed. Especially Mr.…” Her voice faded. Three seconds later she continued with, “And it only helps that you are Brendan's brother.”

  “You guys wear dirt with honor,” I reflected. My stomach soured. The level of disgust was beyond anything I'd come across in a long time.

  “We control the game and by doing so, we decide what's acceptable and so forth. Dirt, not so much.” She exhaled heavily into the line. “You'll change your perspective…eventually.”

  This broad wasn't just only overconfident, she was beyond comfortable. I paid attention to how careless they all were. Unless it was an attempt to draw me in with false security. This conversation and how she'd sealed the deal with the Russians or maintained top ranks at the force had me questioning if she was really all that clever, or just that delusional.

  Celeste

  “I’ve done penance for my deeds,” Mr. Jacobs confessed. His pale, icy blue pupils avoided my gaze like I made him uncomfortable. Imagine that. But I kept at it, even when his gaze switched and focused to the water.

  “So, you’re cleansed of every evil deed? Every abduction? Every death? Every broken?” Part of me wanted to understand. That’s why I sought him out. I needed this to come to terms with what had happened.

  “If you only knew,” he replied. There was something in the way his words fell before me.

  “Why continue then? Those who know better do better.”

  “Only if they want to do better,” he replied with such conviction that I was at a loss for a comeback.

  He’d given directions to a park, about twenty minutes from the club. Outside was hot, blistering even. It was the perfect summer day. But sitting on this bench, mentally drifting with the waves had me feeling nostalgic.

  “For all the evil, Ms. Morgan, I’ve done my fair share of good, if not more.” Kind of felt like this was for his benefit. But then he added, “I cannot change who I am. I wouldn’t want to either.”

  My posture was perfect, and head held high. My legs were crossed with my palms pressed together on my bare thighs. For those looking on, I might’ve seemed cute...even sexy. On the outside, I was holding on. Inside however, fear burned at my core. I hoped to God he wouldn't notice the few times my fingers twitched or the way my body would tighten. Maybe him avoiding eye contact was a good thing, especially for me.

  I parted my lips to speak. Dry heaves filtered out. Sweat flushed across my forehead. I thought if I could just sit there, as still as the image in a painting, he'd somehow believe I wasn't afraid of him. And if he finally decided to look at me, I wouldn't cower.

  But then he chuckled from way down in his gut. Every single hair along the skin on my spine stood at attention. He dragged his sloppy behind closer in the seat. His gray slacks brushed my legs. I cringed. The wind carried a mixture of musk and raw meat to my nose. Instantly, I was reminded that this wasn't just anyone. Mr. Jacobs was a crime boss, likely killer and abductor of innocent girls. There was nothing pleasant or appealing about him; he was the evil!

  As if reading my mind, he stated, “Once you invite the devil into your bed, my child—”

  “Mr. Jacobs, I didn’t invite you or any of your . . . your scum into my bed.” Oh, but I did. Being here, did I get things twisted? They’d made it so easy for me to get in touch with him. After I left my studio apartment, it took one call to the club. I identified myself as the girl from last night, in the alley. Something tells me they were waiting. But how did they know? “I want answers.”

  “Answers? What are you going to do with answers, child?”

  Truthfully, I didn't have a clue but then it occurred to me. I was out of line! I had flirted my way into the mother of all hell on earth, with nothing but revenge to edge me on. And when things got bad, even with Greyson and maybe Brendan to protect me against the Russians, I walked away fully intact.

  “Are you patronizing me, Mr. Jacobs?” I shifted. We held each other's gazes. Warmth…anger stirred in the pit of my stomach. I was disgusted.

  His lips pointed, eyebrows pointed. Not only did his frown adjust up at the corners, he stunned me with a wicked, toothy grin. “Why would I patronize you, child?”

  I prepared to stand. This whole interaction had crossed the lines of being creepy. But just as my bottom hovered above the seat, his thick, sweaty palm grasped my elbow.

  “Sit. Down.” He was impatient. “I've appeased you enough. Don't you think I could've buried you already, child?” He reached into the pocket of his gray slacks to pull out a bright white handkerchief. As he passed it along thick gray and black, peppered eyebrows, I grew even more disgusted with just being there. Was that even possible?

  “Mr…” My cellphone’s vibration cut me off. I snatched my hand away. The sun fed me this thermal, all-encompassing heat, right where he’d touched.

  “Someone's looking for you?” He t’sked, yet still managed to smirk like he was teasing.

  A nagging feeling made me think long and hard. My choices had manifested into a curse, a life sentence. I looked to him for some sort of regret, yet a bitter, stoic face reflected back at me. His skin was drained of life, pale and emotionless. I turned back to the open space above the water. I wish I’d stayed home like Greyson had demanded. Should’ve never opened the door for Brendan either.

  Who was I kidding? Did I really think I could take them on and win? I loved my cousin. Missed her like hell. Wanted her abductors taken out. But now, I considered giving up and giving in. “I made a mistake,” I stated. The stress of the moment rested on my shoulders. I could’ve sunk to the ground just to not have to own up to this mistake. But honestly, was it a mistake?

  “Everything happens for a reason. You come into my territory―”

  “Quinn,” I shot out in response. He had to know why I’d chosen to put my life on the line. “Quinn,” I taunted continually while shaking my head. I was scared, hurt, aggravated and frustrated. More than anything, I didn't want a fight. Not really. I wanted the crooked cop, namely Brendan, to light these sons of bitches. I wanted that so badly that I could see it. I could taste it. I could touch it. My mind got conflicted, forming a blur of words and images. “Screw your territory. Quinn is my concern... Well, was my concern.”

  “Who is this Quinn?” he asked. The words were labored like they had become human and were sitting on his chest.

  “Mr. Jacobs, are we going to play this game?” He had to know that Quinn’s death had become the bane of my existence.

  “You listen to me.” His pale skin grew whiter as his pupils got wider by the second. Thick veins crowned his temples, while his lips stretched uncomfortably. “You’re screwing around with the wrong people. But child, you’re here...”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re here. You’re breathing. Your luck hasn’t run out...yet.”

  “Are you threatening me?” I fought a new bout of fear.

  He sighed. He exhaled. He shrugged.

  “Can we come to some sort of understanding, Mr. Jacobs?”

  Nothing more. He remained still.

  I needed this to end, now. Right now! I prepared to go on, but a lump developed in my throat. I clenched my chest in hopes of maintaining some form of dignity.

  No Celeste! I internalized.

  But a single t
ear disobeyed and rolled down my cheek. I ignored it, choosing not to wipe it away, and hoped to God this flaw bypassed him.

  For his part, Mr. Jacobs shifted vertically and pulled closer to my side of the bench. From the corner of my eyes, I spotted one of the guys from the club. I followed his less than subtle gaze to his boss. Did they really think I was some kind of threat? Yeah, like I’m going to challenge the head of the local Russian organization in broad daylight.

  He moved in the opposite direction, nodded to yet another of the men and grunted. My patience was shot with all of the theatrics. Just as my lips began to part, Mr. Jacobs refocused on me. His right palm plopped down on my knee.

  How am I supposed to react?

  I stiffened. Bile formed in the lower part of my throat, while my disdain for this man multiplied.

  “You are a gem, Celeste Morgan,” he declared as his features softened. And all this as he continued to squeeze me.

  I tried to move away, placing my right palm on the free area at my side of the bench. His grip intensified on my leg, moving from my kneecap to thigh. I didn’t belong to him; hell, I didn’t even belong to Brendan, who was equally confused. I belonged to me . . . Celeste Morgan. And I decided to share me with Greyson Michaels.

  “We have business,” the old man barked. I sensed he wasn’t just referring to our impromptu meeting. “You’re becoming a lawyer?”

  It was at the tip of my tongue to scream and run away, still he’d now sparked my interest. How did he know about me?

  “Your internship with the DA...” I watched in horror as his face contorted into something resembling a sick, twisted cartoon character. “Your future is promising. I see huge things in your future, young Celeste.”

  I swallowed. What could I possibly say? His intel was accurate. What bothered me the most, however, was his reasons for bringing these things up.

  “You see, Celeste Morgan, I love ambitious young women.”

  I gasped as my fingers shot to his hand that was still squeezing my leg. “I need to go,” I finally managed to mumble; though I couldn’t be sure of how effective my voice was because my throat burned like hell. Talking hurt like hell. Thinking killed my resolve. And all around, the sun exposed my fears.

  I was relieved when he released me before stating, “There is no going right now. You staked out my organization and put one of my idiot men in a compromising position.” He pulled up to the edge of the bench. His palms pressed onto his knees as he hunched forward.

  I hung on, his words and actions were a matter of life and death. I knew. He knew I knew. I was a caged animal who was broken.

  “You are one of mine now.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I shifted over so quickly I could’ve sworn I’d caught a splinter on the shabby bench. Didn’t stop to look though. Something about getting in bed with the devil made the minor issues disappear.

  “I understand if you’re new to all of this, but you’ll learn.” His left hand shot up; at the same time, he reached for both of my palms, which I rested on my legs. “I need smart professionals. You are a young and emerging hopeful with the DA’s office plays in my favor.”

  “You’re wrong on so many levels, Mr. Jacobs,” I pleaded. Beads of sweat began forming along my upper lip. A sharp pain sparked, startling at the top of my head only to race down through my spine. “I’m no one in the DA’s office. I haven’t even passed the bar yet. There’s no guarantee I will. And even if I wanted to―”

  Mr. Jacobs’s laughter caught me off guard. He sunk his fingers into my hands.

  I snatched away my arms.

  He gave a hollowed laugh. “Child, this isn’t a question. You do not get to decide. Konechno net!”

  Seriously, was this man ordering me to align with his organization?

  “I haven’t busted my ass to now commit career suicide before my career can take off,” I demanded through stretched lips.

  “No worries,” he chuckled with a twisted grin. The sun illuminated his pasty skin, making him appear creepy rather than threatening.

  This man, who I only knew as Mr. Jacobs, wanted me to believe that I would perhaps forever be associated with these Russian, sex traffickers because I tried to come for them. While this played out in my mind, I thought of the reasons I wanted to become a criminal lawyer to begin with. Even my revenge over Quinn’s death plagued my inner most mind.

  “And if I don’t agree to align with you?”

  “I see. You think this is debatable.” As if he wasn’t close enough already, he shifted closer until his elbows dug into my side. “Brendan vouched for you. He begged me to let you live. He said you’d know your place.”

  My insides flipped and turned nonstop. The air got muggier by the second. I wanted to open my mouth and scream like hell that he was a trafficker and a killer and... And dammit.

  Celeste, he’s a killer!

  “I checked your background. You’re a smart, ambitious girl.” He tapped his middle and pointer fingers to his lined, chunky forehead. “You will go far.” He flashed wide, gleaming white teeth, making an awkward grin. We were drenched by the sun while fighting the battle for my eternal soul.

  In that second, everything came alive for me. I become drenched by fear. From one to the next, I turned from one of the old man’s men to the next. They were waiting for me to do something, anything... But what? My heart was in a good place when I’d set out to find my cousin’s killers. The cops had to have botched things up so badly, since I figured it out and they didn’t. So now, here I sat under duress and forced to work with the same criminals I wanted to take out. What am I supposed to do now, sign my life away?

  I reached up to run my fingers through my thick hair, and then stopped midway through to lean forward. He moved his hand as I came down. With my elbows now resting on my thigh and my fingers locked behind my neck, I tried to control my erratic breathing. The wilder it became, the more likely the tears.

  “Whenever we’re forced to make tough decisions, no matter the issue, the pros always seem to overshadow the cons. This is especially true when we’re ambitious,” Mr. Jacobs paced his words like he was speaking to an idiot. Couldn’t say I blamed him because I had to be one to get sucked into this crap.

  I shot back up in the seat. My head spun from the move. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. “Mr. Jacobs...” I whispered, not sure of how I’d let him down or if that would actually be the case.

  He returned his palm to my leg and ended up rubbing on my thigh in a massage-like, circular motion. I released the knot that had formed in my throat, yet with it came the tears. I’ve never been one to make a public scene; however, what’s the appropriate reaction when you’re on the verge of sealing a deal with the devil?

  As seconds become minutes, my tears intensified until I was full-on sobbing. Mr. Jacobs produced a bright white handkerchief, engraved with a “J.” I didn’t accept his gesture. I wasn’t ready to accept anything from him. Not a thing. He wore a cold stare as his eyes were directed straight ahead even as he dangled the object of surrender—my surrender—once more. I started protesting, slowly shaking my head from left to right, and eventually mouthing a negative.

  “You will not make a scene,” he commanded. “Byt' khrabrym malen'kim.”

  “I’m not Russian.”

  He snapped his fingers then stated, “Ah yes. I said to be brave, little one.”

  “Brave, is that what you call signing on the dotted line? Brave,” I spat out and paused to allow the word to be exposed for a pitiful excuse of a cover up.

  “You know the choices. There are only two.”

  “I give up. I’m done, Mr. Jacobs. Do what you must.”

  “Celeste—”

  “I’m sorry, I have values, and what you’re doing is beyond my values...” I leapt to my feet a second later, prepared to die I then tossed out, “Everything about you is illegal!”

  By now his men were no more than two feet away. A lazy left hand rose as he commanded in Russian, “
Ostav’ yeye.”

  “Let her go? Just like that?”

  I was floored. He’d given them permission to let me go. So, I shot to my feet like lightning as I rounded the bench.

  “You made your choice so be prepared to deal with the consequences,” the old man promised.

  I froze in place, only a few steps from where Mr. Jacobs and his guys were planted. I looked from them to the buildings on the opposite side of the East River Promenade. My mind raced with images of a badly beaten female body. They were so vivid that I felt the pain of puncture wounds trailing along the girl’s skin The most delicate areas of her skin had telltale signs of torture; she was fed something tiny and sharp. I could almost feel her pain. That girl was once Quinn, but today, she had chestnut hair with thick, unruly curls, a wide hazel death stare and pale, pouty lips. She was me. Well, she could be me if I chose to walk away from the Russians today.

  Greyson

  “Good to see you again, Mr. Michaels,” Naila stood in the doorway of her Long Island, corner house. She wore a thin white dress that clung to every curve.

  I nodded but didn’t go any further than the foyer. “What’s so important we couldn’t wrap this up over the phone?” I shifted weight from one leg to the other and added, “And no need for the formal crap; I’m Greyson.”

  “Patience Greyson.” She flaunted her curves by running her hands up and down her hips. This chick pulled me outside of my comfort zone, and now wanted to tell me to have patience?

  “You have five minutes to lay things out.”

  She smirked like there was some big secret. “Not even a drink?” I stepped backwards, but she threw up her hands in surrender. “Your brother isn’t sure of what you’re doing these days.”

  I shrugged. Sure as hell know idiot wasn’t written across my forehead. I’m didn’t walk around with a neon sign either.

  “I know you have a past. You’ve served time and...”