Bad Blood
Page 19
“Fifty thousand pounds, Jones.” I leaned over the display case. “That’s a lot of money for a man like you.”
“Business is slow…”
Excuses. Men like Jones were all the same. The never knew their limits, they always got in too far over their heads and ended up paying the ultimate price. I glanced down at the diamonds. Not quite fifty grand, but it was a start.
Jones began to pale. “No, not those, I need them for a very important client, Mr. Vaughn.”
“Some society rich bitch?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.
“They’re vintage…heirlooms.” He wrung his hands together, becoming agitated.
Narrowing my eyes, I said. “Come here.”
Jones hesitated.
“Come here, Mr. Jones,” I snapped, pointing to the floor in front of me.
He rounded the counter, his features pale and stood before me. Curling my fingers into a tight fist, I struck. My hand connected with Jones’ jaw and his head snapped to the side. I sucker punched him so hard he stumbled against the display case and fell to the floor. While he was down, I kicked him viciously in the stomach.
I gestured to Hawkes, who rounded the counter and began gathering the diamonds as Jones moaned on the floor like a pathetic weasel.
My daytime career was Financial Investment. My secret nighttime career was hard drugs, women and weapons. Military grade arms, cocaine and heroin, that kind of thing. Big money, bad men. The two lives never crossed and that’s the way I liked it. My extracurricular activities were kept off the society pages and in the shadows where they belonged.
I met the right people, or the wrong if you wanted to look at it that way, at a young age and found my talent for talking shit was well received. It made me money and lots of it. Not that I needed it coming from a rich, titled family, but millions became billions and soon I’d be giving daddy a trust find, not the other way around.
I was a bad boy well on the way to becoming a very bad man. They didn’t call me the bad boy of High Society for nothing.
“Consider this a down payment, Mr. Jones,” I said fixing my sleeves. I made sure my cufflinks were still secured and brushed my jacket with an elegant hand. Appearances were everything. “I expect it will be no trouble acquiring the other twenty-five thousand?” I glanced down at Jones, who was holding his stomach, a pained expression on his ugly fucking face.
He shook his head while he rolled around on the floor like an animal. “No, no trouble, Sir.”
Turning on my heel, I gestured to Hawkes who unlocked the door, the bag of diamonds firmly in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. My mood was quelled for the moment; a nicely aimed fist had done the trick as usual.
Stepping out onto the street, I pulled out my mobile phone, Hawkes following me like a bad smell. The European Summer was in full swing, but someone had forgotten to give London the memo. What I wouldn’t give to piss all this shit off and fly to Greece for three months. Nothing but sailing, beaches and plenty of beautiful women to sink my cock into.
Turning, I went to stride down the street, but I collided with a woman walking the other way. She smacked into my chest, dislodging the phone from my hand. I grasped her shoulders, steadying her before she bit the dust too.
The phone clattered to the ground and I cursed loudly. The woman bent to retrieve it, her long fingers curling around the annoying piece of metal and straightened up. She was tall and slender, wearing a black sundress printed with red flowers with a neckline that drew my gaze straight to her tits. Her chestnut hair was loose around her shoulders and I caught the scent of cherry blossom on the air.
My gaze met hers and I felt my expression fall, as did hers, but I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d smashed the screen on my phone or she thought I was hot. Her? Well, she was fucking stunning.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, looking utterly forlorn. “I didn’t mean-”
“No bother,” I said, cutting her off. I reached for the phone, my fingers brushing against her skin.
She glanced up at me and her cheeks flushed a sexy shade of red.
It was like a goddamned romance novel, but by the way my cock was reacting at the slightest touch from the mystery woman, I knew that I’d do anything it took to fuck her. I hadn’t felt anything like it in my entire life. Big brown eyes, pouty red lips, flawless ivory skin… I could lose myself in a woman like her in more ways than one.
“What’s your name?” I asked, flashing my best smile.
She flushed again. “Lorelei.”
Lorelei.
BLOOD RITES is coming May 2015
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About the Author
Amity Cross isn't her real name. That's no secret.
She is the author of wicked stories about rock stars looking for redemption, gritty romances featuring MMA fighters and dark tales of forbidden romance. She loves to write about screwed up relationships and kick ass female leads that don't take s**t lying down.
Amity lives in a leafy country town in southern Australia and can be found chained to her desk, held at ransom by her characters.
Don't send help. She likes it.
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