Hook (Neverland Novels Book 2)

by Gina L. Maxwell

  Sharp accusations fly like verbal bullets as the situation escalates, neither side willing to be the first to back down. The danger right now is very real. Trey and his men are every bit the hardened criminals I have at my back, and none of them will hesitate to start a firefight at point-blank range if they have to. The gun pointed at John makes my stomach twist and my heart slam against my rib cage like a deranged animal trying to escape. I want to shove him out of the way, but I fucking can’t. I need to get him safe another way.

  Blasting the room with a shrill whistle, I shout at the top of my lungs. “Everybody chill the fuck out!”

  Tannen follows my lead by tossing a command over his shoulder for his men to hold, but not to lower their weapons. The tension in the air is bowstring tight and so thick I can taste it, like sweat and too much testosterone. Now that it’s quiet, we can hear the muffled sounds of a couple of drunks laughing, followed by Peter threatening to kick their asses if they don’t get the hell back to the house.

  Smee speaks up. “There, see? Just some assholes fuckin’ around where they shouldn’t be. No one’s comin’ to ambush ye, Tannen. Now let’s all put our shit down and play nice.”

  “Come on, Trey,” John adds. “You know me. This is a clean meet-and-greet. Tell your men to stand down, and we’ll do the same.”

  Tannen lifts a hand, giving his crew the signal, and within seconds, everyone in the shop has tucked their guns back into holsters or waistbands. Discreetly releasing the breath I’d been holding, I tap John on the shoulder. When he doesn’t immediately move, I use a gruff, “JD.” Finally, he steps back over to my side, but the way the muscle in his jaw is jumping, I know he’s not happy about leaving me vulnerable again.

  Ignoring the light feeling in my belly his protectiveness gives me, I hold out my hand for the baggie of Dust, then pass it over to Tannen, who gives me a satisfied nod.

  “We’ll consider this a done deal, then,” he says. “Let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll set up the exchange.”

  “I’ll inform Croc of the good news. If you and your guys want to hang around, there’s plenty of fun to be had at the party.”

  “Thanks, but we’ll pass. We got what we came for. I’ll be in touch, Hook.”

  I nod. “Looking forward to it.”

  As soon as Tannen’s crew is gone and I excuse mine to go celebrate with what’s left of the night, I cross to the far side of the garage and collapse into a metal folding chair in front of the work bench. Scrubbing my hands down my face, I allow myself the briefest moment to lower my walls and simply concentrate on dragging air deep into my lungs. Jesus fuck, that was close. Those thugs could’ve opened fire, and my crew would be nothing more than stains on the concrete floor by now. John would be… Fuck!

  At the sound of the side utility door opening, my spine straightens like a metal rod is shoved up my back, and the mask of apathy I’ve perfected from the time I was nine snaps into place.

  “It’s only me,” John says, closing the door behind him.

  I stand and wing a single brow toward my hairline. “That’s gotta be the most inaccurate way to qualify yourself, Darling.”

  His lips tip up on one side as he strides over to me. “Oh yeah? Can I take that as a compliment?”

  Yes. “No, but I’ll tell you what you can take,” I say, fisting the front of his shirt to drag him closer, needing to feel his body to reassure myself that he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fucking fine. “My di—”

  The sound of the door opening again acts like a bolt of lightning striking the ground between us, and we jump apart just before Peter and Wendy slip into the shop.

  “Oh my God, John!”

  In a blur, Wendy races across the open space and launches herself into her brother’s arms. Smee’s job this week had been to get word to Peter about the situation, including the fact that the top-secret mission John went off the grid for was practically right in their backyard, working with yours truly. That alone was probably enough to send Wendy Darling into a tailspin.

  “Hey, sis, take it easy or you’ll rub off my cool new tats. I need them for my street cred, you know,” he says, chuckling as he gently breaks her chokehold.

  Pan sidles up next to her and laces his fingers with hers. “Pretty sure whatever street cred the tats give you is canceled out by hanging around Captain Cinnamon Roll there.”

  “Oh, good,” I reply drolly. “You finally have the same death wish I’ve had for you since the day we met. Glad we’re on the same page.”

  Wendy smacks her fiancé’s chest playfully. “Peter, behave yourself and apologize to Hook.”

  “You’re right, Wen, I should definitely apologize.” Grinning at me, I know by the stupid-ass twinkle in his blue eyes I’m not going to like what comes out of his mouth next. “Hook, I’m sorry your big, bad rep is trashed by the fact that you’re such a cinnamon roll.”

  A few weeks ago, I probably would’ve cursed a blue streak and lunged for Pan’s throat, succumbing to the desire to physically wipe that smirk off his face. But whether I simply lack the energy from the adrenaline drop or I don’t want to traumatize Wendy by knocking his teeth out, all I do is cross my arms over my chest and deliver my practiced bored stare.

  “I really hate you, you know that?”

  He winks. “Must be opposite day, then, because we all know you secretly love me.”

  I sigh. “Christ, you’re exhausting.”

  Pan’s always been sickeningly cheerful—even when we were kids under the rule of abusive guardians. I’d resented the hell out of him for that luxury. It was one I’d never been able to afford.

  Then again, I’m not sure Pan wouldn’t still have been his freakishly happy self even if Croc had targeted him instead of me. Peter’s “perpetually positive” gene was lodged firmly in his DNA. Or maybe it was a rainbow shoved firmly up his ass. Either way, if his glass was only half full, he would find a smaller glass and crow about his good fortune. I won’t deny that the kids needed that kind of attitude from their leader, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying as all hell. And fair or not, I’ve always kind of hated him for it.

  Then, the year before I moved out of the school, he saw something he shouldn’t have, and I hated him even more. Pan doesn’t seem to care, though. Over the last decade, he’s persistently tried including me as part of his Lost Boys family. And I’ve just as persistently told him to fuck right off. It’s the only way we know how to co-exist—as bitter enemies. At least from my vantage point. I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re more like bickering siblings.

  Wendy gives John a scrutinizing once-over and shakes her head. “You look so…well, like a Pirate. No offense, Hook.” I shrug. “If Dad saw you like this, he’d shit a brick sideways.”

  John tweaks a chunk of her hair and winks. “Dad has seemed like he might be a little backed up. Maybe I’ll show up like this for Christmas.”

  She laughs. “Well, that would definitely make for an interesting event.”

  “Speaking of events,” Pan says, draping an arm around Wendy’s shoulders, “we’ve been making wedding plans.”

  I make a disgusted face. “And that’s my cue.” But before I can walk away, Pan stops me.

  “Not so fast, Hook. As my best man, we’ll need to discuss bachelor party ideas and a speech that emphasizes how awesome I am. These are not duties to be taken lightly.”

  He’s done it. Peter Pan has finally struck me dumb. Because I have no response to what he just said. None.

  Wendy is biting her lip nervously, and from the corner of my eye, I can see John holding a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Oh, that’s what this is. A joke! Of course it is because everything out of this man’s mouth is a joke.

  I blow out a breath and narrow my eyes at him. “Real funny, Pan. You almost had me there.”

  “Except I’m not joking, man.” He’s still smiling, but the expression on his face has toned down to one of sincerity. I can handle a lot of things from Peter, bu
t seriousness is not one of them.

  “No,” I say simply as I cross the room, refusing to ask what would fucking possess him to want me—his lifelong nemesis—for his best man instead of one of his own guys.

  “Great, so you’ll think about it, then,” he calls after me.

  I give him my customary middle finger over my shoulder and walk through the door. Once outside, I make a quick call to Croc to let him know how the deal went with Tannen. To say he was satisfied with the news of his drug expanding into the Atlanta area would be a gross understatement. He makes a sickening comment about being proud of me, but all I care about is the fact that he says Starkey will be out before I know it. Hearing that gives me the sliver of hope I need. Whether by Croc’s hand or by John’s, my brother will be set free soon. And that knowledge puts me in the first good mood I’ve had in the past six fucking months.

  When John emerges from the shop, I pull him around the corner into the shadows. I bite his earlobe, and his groan travels straight to my cock. “Go enjoy yourself while you can, Johnathan. Because when we get home, I’m going to fuck you until every vein on my dick is imprinted on the inside of your ass,” I growl as I palm the crease of his ass and squeeze over the denim where I plan on splitting him in two.

  “Oh fuck,” he rasps. “Let’s go back now, Captain. Please.”

  “No. You need to hang out with the rest of the crew, or it’ll look suspicious. But do not get drunk. You get yourself a beer, and you nurse the hell out of it. I won’t have you riding after drinking, and I won’t ride you if you’re wasted either. We do everything on my terms, my schedule. Understand?”

  He nods and swallows hard. “Yes, Captain.”

  “Good. You better be convincing. We can leave in an hour or three, it all depends on you. I’ve got plenty of patience, and I don’t mind making you wait.” I want to smash our mouths together and show him with my tongue exactly how I’ll fuck him later, but it’s way too risky. Plus, I like making him crazy with anticipation. “Now go.”

  Without a word, he strides in the direction of the house, masculine power coiled in the flexing of his muscles and disguised by the grace with which he moves. He’s a man on a mission, and I can’t wait for him to complete it, so we can get to my mission.

  Finally, I’ll have every part of John Darling—at least all the ones I can afford to take. And I will take them, ruthlessly and unapologetically, like the villainous Pirate I am.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  John

  Tonight’s been one hell of a ride, and I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. My adrenaline has spiked so many times already—this afternoon as we planned the meeting with Tannen, running over a hundred mph on a crotch rocket down the highway, the explosive standoff in the shop, and then the eternity James made me play Pirate while his laser gaze bored into me. I should be exhausted from the multiple blood pressure drops, but I’ve never felt more alive.

  I’d also never felt more scared than when that pistol was pointed at James’s head earlier. I’ve stared down the barrels of a lot of guns in my career, but I’ve never been so consumed with fear as I was in that moment. In the second it took for me to place myself in front of James, an image flashed in my mind of the trigger being pulled and a bullet ripping through his skull. I nearly lost my fucking shit.

  My training is the only thing that kept me grounded in my role as JD instead of acting on instinct and neutralizing the immediate threat. Which technically would’ve been against my training, considering it wasn’t the smart move with a dozen other guns drawn in a twenty-foot radius. But everything in me had screamed to take down the bastard who dared to threaten my man. I need this case closed like fucking yesterday, so he can get through his couple months of jailtime and begin his life where he’s not in constant danger anymore. I don’t even want to think about the possibility of losing him. Not now that he’s finally mine.

  He is mine, whether he’s ready to admit it yet or not. And I’m about to be his in every way that matters.

  After we got back to the Jolly Roger, Cecco insisted I continue the party downstairs with the rest of them. I’d already been on edge for the two hours James made us stay at the Lost Boys’ place. All I wanted to do was rush upstairs and fall at my man’s feet. But turning Cecco and the others down would’ve looked suspicious. James is right, I need to keep up appearances with them, and that means acting like one of the crew, not the Captain’s special first mate. So I stayed while Hook sauntered up to the loft without a backward glance.

  I had two more beers downstairs, but it couldn’t be helped. I’m lucky they were so shit-faced they thought I’d had closer to a dozen. Everyone except Smee, who kept a close eye on me all night. After an hour in the clubhouse, I think he sensed I was about to jump out of my skin and gave me the out I needed to make an acceptable exit.

  Now as I climb the stairs to the loft, a pack of pterodactyls takes flight in my belly, great giant things that beat their wings in excitement and scratch my insides with anticipation. They inject me with lust so powerful it slips into my blood stream and rushes to my extremities until I’m on fucking fire with it.

  When I walk into the space I’ve started to think of as our home, I find James in the same spot I found him the night he ordered me to jerk off for him—in that chair with his legs spread wide, looking for all the world like a king lounging on his throne. He’s gloriously shirtless with his tableau of tattoos on full display and the gold rings in his nipples winking at me in the lamplight. But what really slays me are his sexy-as-hell black-rimmed glasses and that worn copy of The Count of Monte Cristo in his big hands.

  He knows I’m here, but he hasn’t so much as glanced my way as I cross the open space, and he continues to ignore me when I stop in front of him.

  We do everything on my terms, my schedule.

  I barely suppress an agitated growl. My skin is too tight, and I’ve been hiding a massive hard-on with my untucked T-shirt since James hauled me around the side of Pan’s shop hours ago. The alpha male in me aches to take what I want, to shove him against the wall and kiss him until his careful control bursts into flames and he finally gives in.

  But this new side of me, the part of me that Hook owns, wants to wait for as long as it takes. I know he’ll give me his attention when he’s good and ready, and fuck if that doesn’t get me even hotter. My reactions to him continue to surprise me, but I don’t question them, not anymore. They feel utterly natural with this man, and I’m comfortable enough in my own skin to surrender to them.

  To surrender to him.

  “Captain,” I plead, not caring how eager I sound. “I’m here.”

  “So you are.” He casually turns the page and continues to read.

  Goddamn it, I’m desperate to make something—anything—happen. Sinking to my knees in front of him, I pull up my T-shirt—

  “Don’t even think about it, Darling,” he snaps out in a low voice that might as well be a shout. I let my shirt fall back into place and meet his flinty blue eyes. He places his book and reading glasses on the side table and sits up. His contracting abs draw my gaze, and I lick my lips as the desire to nuzzle into that line of dark hair that disappears into his waistband punches me in the gut. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  My eyes flick up to his face as he braces his forearms on his knees and waits for my answer. “I thought—”

  “That’s your problem right there, you were thinking. More importantly, you were topping from the bottom, and that’s not how this works.”

  I knit my brows together. Though I’ve never been in a D/s relationship, I’m familiar enough with some of the terminology. “No, I—”

  “Yes, you were,” he says, injecting steel into his tone. “You tried to control the situation by getting me to do what you wanted, when you wanted it, and that’s where you fucked up. I told you that we go by my schedule, which means we’ll do things whenever the fuck it pleases me. That was a test. You failed.” A devilish smirk curves
his lips. “Now you get these.”

  James reaches into the cushion between his thigh and the arm of the chair and pulls out a set of metal handcuffs dangling from one finger. My metal handcuffs. It would be too much of a coincidence that he has a matte-black pair just like mine. “You got those from my room.”

  “Correction. It’s my room that I’m letting you borrow. Therefore, whatever’s in it belongs to me.”

  I arch a brow and deadpan, “That’s not how the law works.”

  “It is now. Keep talking and I’ll get a ball gag. For the record, that’s in Smee’s room. Irish bastard’s kinky as hell.”

  I press my lips firmly together. I have a feeling James could get me to try anything once, but right now I just need him to fuck me, hard and without mercy. But the only way I get what I want is by following his rules, some of which I don’t even know yet. That’s fine; I’m a quick study.

  Then it hits me. He knew I’d be crawling out of my skin with need by the time I got up here. He knew I’d be desperate to get him to act. Narrowing my eyes, I say, “You set me up.”

  James reaches down and squeezes my straining dick through my jeans. A whoosh of air leaves my lungs, but I manage to hold my position and not shamelessly rut into his grip. “You complaining, Darling?”

  “No, Captain,” I grate. “Never.”

  “Then stand up,” he commands and rises with me, tucking the handcuffs into his back pocket. “Don’t move.”

  I’m almost afraid to breathe for fear he’ll stop whatever he plans on doing, but by now I know that a direct order requires a response. More than that, I want to give him the words he craves from me. “Yes, Captain.”