Pursuit: Brandon & Carly (Mafia Ties Book 4)

by Fiona Davenport

  Finally, replete, I fell to my back, rolling her over with me so she lay on top while I remained inside her. Still fucking hard. Her breath evened out and she fell asleep, practically passed out on my chest. I shifted her to lie more comfortably and felt the liquid dripping down my cock.

  Fuck! I’d forgotten a condom. I sighed, this was sure to be a fight.

  Chapter 8

  Carly

  Waking up with Brandon wrapped around me was something that could quickly become an addiction. Even with my body aching in places I hadn’t known could be sore, I felt better than I had in, well, forever. Lifting up on an elbow, I shifted so I could check to see if he was still sleeping. The sight of his peaceful face, softened in sleep, made me sigh faintly. He was so damn gorgeous, I wanted to lay there staring at him for hours. Unfortunately, my bladder had other plans, forcing me to slide out from his hold and creep from the bed. Movement intensified my aches, so I grabbed my purse on my way to the bathroom and shut the door softly behind me.

  Plopping down onto the toilet, I dug through my bag in search of some ibuprofen. When my fingers touched my burner phone, I realized it had been longer than usual since I’d powered it up to check for messages from Tommy. I turned it back on while I opened the bottle of pills that had been buried underneath it. Setting both items on the counter, I dropped my purse to the floor so I could wipe. It was a damn good thing I didn’t still have the phone in my hand because it would have ended up in the toilet bowl when I realized I had dried come on my inner thighs.

  “Fuck!” I hissed, wracking my brain to come up with a memory of Brandon using a condom the night before. It was futile, though, because the proof was right there on my legs, plain as day—he hadn’t wrapped up his monster cock before shoving it inside me.

  “Fuckity fuck fuck fuck,” I chanted, grabbing the phone to pull up the calendar app to count back days to my last period. I repeated the action three times without the result changing before my head dropped in my hands.

  “Thirteen,” I sighed. “Of course it had to be thirteen.”

  Smack dab in the middle of my cycle, right when I was most likely to get pregnant. Awesome. And the ringing of my cell phone was even more awesome.

  “Shit, fuck, damn,” I muttered, stabbing my finger on the green button before the sound woke Brandon up. I wasn’t exactly ready to face him yet.

  “Where the fuck are you, Carly?”

  Oh, great. Tommy already sounded pissed the hell off at me. This conversation was going to go so well—not.

  “At Brandon DeLuca’s apartment.”

  “You’re gonna have to repeat that for me because I must have heard you wrong. You couldn’t have possibly said what I think you did because that would mean not only did you come back to town after I told you your da is out for your blood, but that you decided it would be a good idea to leave your safety in the hands of a guy you motherfucking shot!”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s forgiven me for that since he’s talking about us getting married.” I figured the ‘and might have already knocked me up’ part was better left unsaid.

  “Fuck, Carly. You’ve got to be kidding me. How the hell did you let yourself get mixed up with Brandon DeLuca, of all people? The man’s a stone-cold killer.”

  “The same could be said about you, Tommy,” I reminded him gently. I hated to do it, but as much as I loved my friend, I wasn’t about to let him judge Brandon by his reputation alone.

  “But we both know I’d never hurt you.”

  “Neither would Brandon.”

  Shit! I’d been so focused on my conversation that I hadn’t heard Brandon enter the bathroom. I only realized he was there when he yanked the phone from my hand.

  “Who the fuck is this?” he growled into it.

  Oh shit. Brandon was going to hate the answer to his question. This was bad. No, correction, it was more like national catastrophe level on a scale of amazing to horrible.

  “Thomas McKinnon? How convenient. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

  Yup, I’d called it right because Brandon looked like he was a nuclear explosion in the making. His voice was deceptively soft because his dark eyes were narrowed and lit with fury. His cheeks were flushed red, and his lips were pursed. The way his muscles were coiled tight made it seem as though he was ready to jump through the phone to attack Tommy. And considering the bomb I’d just dropped on my childhood friend, I figured he’d have a fight on his hands if he did.

  Brandon stalked out of the room, taking the phone with him. I cleaned up as quickly as I could and followed after him. Snagging the shirt he’d worn the day before, I pulled it over my head and padded into the kitchen, where I found him making coffee and snarling at Tommy over the phone.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck who you’ve been to her in the past, or how helpful your information is when it comes to finding Pat. Carly is mine now. I don’t know you, don’t trust you. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m gonna let some guy I don’t trust anywhere near my woman.”

  I rushed forward and tried to tug the phone from his hands, determined to stop this conversation in its tracks. Brandon wasn’t having any of it, though. He shackled both of my hands in one of his own and held me in place while he continued to talk to Tommy.

  “Yeah, if your tip results in his capture, I might consider letting you see her.”

  I huffed up at him, narrowing my eyes. Brandon just shook his head and smiled at me like I was being cute or something.

  “Don’t bother using this number again. You need something, you call me.” He rattled off his number and disconnected the call without saying goodbye. Hopefully, Tommy had gotten all the digits right because Brandon dropped my phone on the ground, grabbed a pot from the rack above the kitchen island, and smashed it.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Actually, I kind of could, but I wasn’t about to admit it to him.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “You didn’t need it anymore.”

  “But what if I need to call someone?”

  “Use mine.”

  “What if someone needs to call me?”

  “You and I both know McKinnon was the only one who had that number. Now he has mine.” Stupid logic.

  “But—” I sputtered. I wasn’t sure what I was even going to say next. It didn’t matter anyway because Brandon didn’t give me the chance. He picked me up and set me on the counter, stepping between my legs and pulling me tight against his body.

  “If McKinnon is on the up and up, you won’t need to use a burner again anyway because your dad will be out of the picture.”

  All thoughts of Brandon’s high-handedness and lack of condom usage flew out the window. I knew Tommy was trustworthy, which meant my da’s days were numbered.

  ***

  My da’s arrogance was ultimately his downfall. He’d never once considered the possibility that one of his trusted men would betray him to the DeLucas, not even after his own daughter had done so. The hunt took only a day after the tip from Tommy. My da had been moving from safe-house to safe-house within the city, never straying far from home. He knew Nic was putting all of his considerable resources behind the search, but even that wasn’t enough to make my da leave town. The stubborn ass thought he was invincible.

  Hell, he’d had me convinced he couldn’t be defeated, as well. I had stayed under his control and miserable because of it. All that time wasted when I could have been living life, happy and whole. No more. Pat O’Reilly’s hold over me was going to end tonight. And so was his certainty that he couldn’t be taken down by anyone. He was about to learn his fall had come about because of a mere woman—me.

  My grip on Brandon’s hand tightened, making him stop in his tracks as we stood outside the door which led from Nic’s offices to the warehouse in the back of his building. My head shot up, and I watched as his expression morphed from looking like his face had been carved from stone to the gentleness I was growing accustomed to seeing. A softness he allowed only when it was directe
d at me, which made me appreciate it even more.

  “You don’t have to go in there,” he reminded me. “Even though he doesn’t deserve the title, he’s your father. If it’s gonna hurt you to see him like this, I’d rather you didn’t. Let me take care of him for you.”

  I beamed up at him, smiling wide enough that I seemed to startle Bran with my reaction to his offer. But, as absurd as it sounded considering the circumstances, some of the heaviness in my heart lifted—and it was all due to this man. His love had set me free from the chains my da had wrapped around me, even more so than my running had done... and he hadn’t even used those three little words yet.

  “I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. “As long as I have you by my side, I can handle anything.”

  An odd mixture of male satisfaction, pride, and hunger flared in his eyes. I didn’t get to appreciate it for long because he wrapped his arms around my back and lifted me up as he lowered his head to claim my mouth in a deep kiss. His lips crashed against mine, our tongues tangling with each other as he held me suspended in the air. I didn’t know how long it lasted, but by the time he set me back on my feet, my lips felt bruised and I was out of breath. Raising a hand to my mouth, I giggled.

  “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping to get, kitten,” he growled, smiling down at me.

  “Can’t help it,” I gasped. “Knowing I’m about to walk in there, where my da is tied to a chair—probably after having been roughed up a bit already—with my lips swollen from your kisses.”

  “I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” he grumbled. “If I had my way, this is a look you’d wear every minute of the day.”

  “I’m just appreciating the poetic justice of the moment,” I explained. “You make me happy, something every father should want for his daughter. Not mine, though. He’s more than proven he couldn’t care less about my happiness. Seeing me like this when he learns I had a hand in his capture? It’s icing on the fucking cake.”

  “Then let’s get this done. The sooner it’s over, the faster I can get you back in my bed and demonstrate how wrong that old saying goes—you really can have your cake and eat it too.”

  The hunger in his eyes left me without any doubt that my pussy was the cake he planned to eat. I walked into a DeLuca warehouse with Brandon’s hand wrapped protectively around mine, my cheeks flushed and lips swollen...and my panties wet. It was inappropriate as hell, but well worth it when my da’s eyes bugged out at the sight of me.

  I couldn’t understand what he was saying behind the gag stuffed in his mouth, but it was probably for the best since I recognized his look of fury. It’s one I’d seen enough times growing up. I slowed my pace, giving him a little time to simmer down, and waited for the purple color to recede from his face before I pulled my hand from Brandon’s grasp and approached my da. They’d made sure he wasn’t a risk to me before I entered the room, tying his hands behind his back and each of his ankles to a chair leg. When I stopped before him, I lifted my chin to one of Nic’s guys and he promptly removed the gag.

  “Hey, Da,” I murmured in an awkward greeting, because really, what was the etiquette for situations like this?

  “I cahn’t believe me own dahtter would betray me loik dis,” he muttered. “Yah’ve signed me death warrant, girlie.”

  “It’s not like you gave me any other choice, Da. You betrayed me first. I know what you had planned for me. Does ‘keeping me in line with a firm hand’ sound familiar? Or how about me ‘finding myself sayin’ Hail Marys on my way to hell’?”

  He didn’t bother denying he’d said those things or defending himself. He just sat there staring at me, and I didn’t like the crafty light that entered his eyes. It made me think maybe he had another card up his sleeve. It was about damn time I delivered the final blow, before he understood there was no way out of this mess for him except for in a body bag. Nic had given me the perfect weapon, too, when he’d asked me to take my da’s spot as head of the family. Although it had sounded crazy when he’d suggested it, Brandon had been pretty damn convincing when he brought it up again later. I hadn’t been fully convinced it was the best plan—for me or my family—but looking down upon my da while he was strapped to a chair and completely helpless gave me a new perspective. I sure as shit could do a better job than he’d done, especially with Brandon at my side.

  “Besides which, your death warrant is exactly what I need so I can step into your shoes.”

  “Yer a fecking riot, girlie. Dere’s na way in hell ya can step intah me shoes. De O’Reillys’ll never be led by a woomahn.”

  “Oh yeah?” I murmured. “It’s too bad you won’t be around to watch it because that’s exactly what’s going to happen when you’re gone. Maybe the devil will let you take a peek at me as the O’Reilly boss while you burn in hell. I bet it’d be the perfect way to torture you, wouldn’t it?”

  The purple crept into his cheeks again as he sputtered. There wasn’t anything he had to say that I wanted to hear, so I yanked the gag back into place and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “The O’Reillys are going to be led by a woman. Me. And the first thing I’m going to do is move our family out of the slave trade. Then we’re going to get out of drugs, too. The best part is knowing there isn’t a damn thing you’ll be able to do about it except roll over in your grave.”

  The way I taunted my da right before he met his maker might make me a bitch, but I could live with that. In fact, it was probably for the best since I was about to step into his shoes.

  Chapter 9

  Brandon

  I didn’t hide who I was, what I was. I owned it. But, taking a life brings with it a measure of darkness, no matter the reason. Revenge, justice, or even mercy, they each inflict you with a scar you can’t ever erase.

  I was riddled with these dark marks, blackness swirled in my soul, and it’s something I had long ago accepted. It’s who I was. But Carly? She flooded my darkness with light, she was unblemished, and I knew right then, I’d do everything I could to make sure she always would be.

  Carly had steel in her backbone and possessed the qualities necessary to become a feared leader, one with intelligence, a required level of ruthlessness, while still retaining compassion and a sense of where the line between grey and black was. She wouldn’t have a problem leading the O’Reillys, and having blood on her hands would increase respect and her level of credibility.

  She threw her father one last look of disgust, then turned to me and held out her hand. I knew she wanted her gun, I’d brought it specifically so she could end him if she chose to. She could, and would do it, but I wasn’t going to let her.

  “Everybody out,” I commanded, folding my arms across my chest and glaring at them until they shuffled out. Nic raised a questioning eyebrow, silently asking if I wanted him to stay, and I nodded. I was going to need his help.

  “Brandon.” Carly shook her hand impatiently.

  “Wait until we’re alone, kitten,” I coaxed.

  She frowned at me, but dropped her hand obediently and watched the door until the last man was gone and it shut behind him.

  Turning back, she looked at me expectantly. I reached out and snagged her arm, pulling her into my embrace. “I’d like some time alone with him, kitten. Can you give me that?”

  She looked like she wanted to argue, but she glanced at the son of a bitch, and when her eyes returned to mine, there was a spark of understanding. My desire to protect her extended to past hurts and I needed to make him pay. I didn’t confess to the fact that I would be the one to end his life, though. I knew she would fight me for it.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “But save the last bullet for me.”

  I didn’t respond, gently pushing her in the direction of a room on the opposite side of the warehouse from where all of the men had exited. Once she was out of earshot, I faced Nic.

  “Keep her away, but make sure no one sees her. As far as anyone else knows, Carly did the deed.” He nodded and followed after her.

  W
hen Nic first decided the situation would be best resolved with Carly stepping into her father’s shoes, I wanted to tell him no fucking way. It went against all of my instincts to allow her to have a permanent target on her back. However, my woman was strong, determined, and stubborn as fuck. I couldn’t argue the fact that she would be able to earn her place and with our backing, we would be able to control the rapidly deteriorating structure of the O’Reillys. It was a volatile situation, and if she didn’t take the helm quickly, it was likely to implode and we’d be left with a shit storm to clean up.

  As long as this was the road we were on, I would do everything I could to support her and protect her. And, that meant doing the dirty work. The families would give Carly the credit, but she wouldn’t carry the stains on her hands, and if the cops ever decided to come after her, it would be my prints on the weapons, my DNA on the bodies.

  I meandered over to Pat, who sat in his chair trying to look brave and unconcerned. Too bad his eyes gave away the truth, he was scared shitless.

  “You know, O’Reilly,” I spat, “I’d love nothing more than to spend months putting you through everything Carly endured at your hands. Unfortunately, we haven’t got that kind of time, so we are going to have to go for the condensed version.” My arm swung back and my fist smashed into his face with a satisfying crunch. He screamed as his broken nose streamed blood, but the sound was muffled by the gag.

  “All the years you beat the shit out of her, and there was no one to hear her scream, no one to stop you, or help her.” My words served to add gasoline to the rage inside me. The next punch broke his jaw and his chair flipped back, crashing to the ground. “Let’s see,” I mused, rubbing at my thin beard. “Ah, yes.” I strolled over to a tall cabinet where I kept all of my ... tools. I snatched another scrap of fabric and additional rope.