Vines (The Killers Book 1)

by Brynne Asher

  “Stay where you are!” Marc screams and I immediately stop, letting out a little scream.

  “This is between you and me, Whittaker, let her go.” Sheldon looks straight at Marc, but he shifts, standing in front of me.

  “What is it with her? You still hung up on her mom after all these years?” Sheldon narrows his eyes, but Marc keeps spewing his words. “Yeah, I heard all about Anne Ross. You might’ve been friends with her husband, but you really wanted her.”

  Maybe he did have a thing for my mom. Maybe that was just one more reason for her to disappear, creating our new identities.

  Sheldon doesn’t let Marc’s words faze him and looks back to me. “I never had feelings for your mother. I’d never do that to Wes.” Looking back to Marc, he continues. “The Rosses had nothing to do with me. They were innocent victims. I couldn’t stop them from taking out Wes all those years ago when he was suspicious, but I’m not going to let it happen to his daughter. This is between you and me, Whittaker. Let her go, we can work this out once and for all.”

  “She’s not going anywhere. I’ve come to take care of this shit myself. They want her eliminated, she’s making them nervous, and you’ve fucking put them off for months. You’re pissing me off, playing games with them, and making it hard for me to do what I need to do. Now I’ve gotta take care of your shit, too,” he spits at Sheldon.

  I start to shake. I’ve got to get away. Doing the only thing I can do, I turn to look behind me. Finding the widest opening in the vines, I take my chance.

  I’m only two steps toward my opening when a shot blasts so close to my head, I hear it hit the branches I was trying to move through.

  Screaming, I bring my hands to my ears and stumble into the vines. This time they tear through the skin of my arm, ripping my dress. Blood instantly seeps through the material of my sleeve from the gash.

  “What the fuck?” I hear Sheldon scream at the same time I turn to see Marc lower the gun in his hand, aiming at me once again.

  “I told you not to move!” Marc screams at me.

  Barely catching my breath, my voice is edging on hysterical when I beg, “Please let me go. I don’t know anything.”

  “Addison.”

  I pull in a quick breath and turn quickly to find him. His voice, calm and controlled like always, is coming from the other side of the vines. When he steps through, he doesn’t make a noise. Of course he wouldn’t, he’s trained to be unheard and unseen.

  He’s loose and relaxed, and if I didn’t know him better, I’d think he only happened upon us while strolling through my vineyard. I see it in his eyes—focus and complete awareness of everything. He’s at least six feet from me, standing in the middle of the path, but we’re separated by Sheldon, with Marc standing across from all of us.

  Between the gun being fired in my direction and knowing Marc is here to take me out, seeing Crew is too much. I can’t keep my tears from coming, and they instantly overflow. Instinctively, I start to move to him, but Marc approaches me and screams, “I told you to stay the fuck there!”

  I freeze, looking into Marc Whittaker’s crazed eyes. He’s out of control, agitated, and doesn’t seem like he has a plan.

  “Stay there, baby,” Crew gently demands. He might’ve been talking to me, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking straight at Marc. “What’s up, Whittaker? You strolling through vineyards now instead of selling State secrets?”

  Marc, surprised by Crew’s revelation, turns his gun on Crew.

  “No!” I scream and start to move to him.

  Crew takes another step toward Marc. “You can’t see them, but there’re cameras everywhere. You might want to stop and think this through. Every move you make is on video, and trust me, it won’t make you happy knowing who has the feed to these cameras.”

  Marc, frantic, not knowing who to point the gun at now, yells, “Everyone stop moving!”

  “Addison,” Crew’s voice turns soft, but he doesn’t look away from Marc, holding his hands out low, showing he’s unarmed. Even with a gun pointed at him, Crew takes a step toward Marc but keeps speaking to me. “Hang on, baby, and stay there.”

  “I don’t know who you are,” Sheldon starts, and when I look over he’s addressing Crew. Crew lifts his head, but never takes an eye off Marc’s gun that’s still pointed at him. Sheldon shocks me, throwing Marc Whittaker to the wolves. “You know more than I gave you credit for. I’ve got all the information on Whittaker you need. I’ve kept tabs on him, every drop he’s made to the Russians, every piece of information he’s stolen and sold over the last four and a half years.”

  Marc, promptly forgetting about Crew, turns his gun on Sheldon. “You bastard. Like I don’t have the shit on you? You taught me everything I know.”

  I move back a step, the rocks and twigs crunching under my boots.

  “Be still, Addison.” Crew looks past Sheldon, catching my eyes. His voice gets my attention, steeling me in place because it’s not soft anymore. It’s firm and the look in his eyes back up his words and tone.

  “Really, Marc?” Sheldon continues bravely as if Crew didn’t just speak to me. He takes a step toward Marc, and for some reason, I sense he’s distracting him. “You have proof of that? You have a timeline, pictures, records of my communication with them? Because I have all that on you and more. You got greedy and wanted all the action for yourself. If you think I didn’t see that, you’re not smart enough for the task.”

  Sheldon takes another step toward the weapon and Marc screams, “Stop!”

  “Hang tight, baby,” Crew says, not moving a muscle.

  Neither Sheldon nor Marc give us their attention as Sheldon keeps throwing it in Marc’s face. “If you were clever enough to see the big picture, you’d realize everyone’s your enemy and you would’ve kept track. See, I didn’t teach you everything, Whittaker. I know how to cover my ass and stay in the shadows. You forget, I’ve done it for many years.”

  I look into Crew’s dark, beautiful eyes, they’re the sharpest I’ve seen yet. Something about them makes me still, or at least try, as he told me to. I do try, but I can’t stop them, my tears continue to fall and he sees it, too. So minutely, I would’ve missed it had I not been looking into his eyes, he gives me a shake of his head. “Give me five beats, Abby. You’ll be in my arms.”

  I frown instantly, not understanding.

  “I go down, O’Rourke, you go down with me,” Marc warns.

  “Still.” Crew’s voice softens the way it does only for me right before his next word comes out so differently, I know for a fact it’s an order, but to who, I’ve no idea. “Now.”

  “What—” Marc’s surprised face barely has time to register Crew’s order. At the same time, Sheldon advances on Marc as he squeezes his hand around his gun, in what looks like sheer panic.

  It happened so fast, that one second there were four of us before the gunfire resounded, and the next, there was only Crew and me.

  I’m not even sure if I screamed, if anything came out, but I meant to. My hands come to the sides of my head in pure disbelief as I look down to see Marc Whittaker laying face-first on my land, the back of his head obliterated. I hear something else, someone writhing in pain, but I can’t take my eyes off Marc.

  Then I see nothing.

  Just as he promised, I’m in Crew’s arms. Then again, he’s never broken a promise.

  I can’t see anything but I feel myself moving backward. Crew has one hand in my hair and the other around my back, my face pressed to his chest.

  Through the ringing in my ears, I hear him comforting me with his lips at the top of my head. “It’s over, baby. Calm down.”

  It’s only then do the tears flow on my face, my chest heaving with sobs.

  We stop moving and he wraps me up tighter, trying to console me with whispered words into my hair.

  When the ringing starts to fade, I hear another voice, a familiar voice. I look over and see Grady, but he doesn’t look like the Grady I know. Crew’s
friend, who’s just as built and bigger than life like Crew, has his arm in a sling, and his face is bruised and battered. A handgun is stuck in the waist of his pants and he’s talking on the phone, but his eyes are on Crew.

  “Whittaker’s dead,” Grady informs whoever’s on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, I did. We need EMS, probably a chopper, O’Rourke’s got a gunshot wound to the shoulder. He’s hangin’ on. You wanted him alive, he’s alive for the time being. By the time I got here, Whittaker was about to unload on O’Rourke. I waited ‘til I got the all clear from Vega, but didn’t get a shot off before Whittaker shot O’Rourke.”

  Listening to him retell it, I try and breathe deep, sinking into Crew’s chest. Grady looks to me and then back to his friend as he ends his phone call. “Yeah, Vega and his woman are good.”

  With his eyes on Crew, Grady goes on. “Carson said he’ll clean this up. I should get out of here. He’ll have his people here soon and said he’d take care of local law enforcement.”

  I don’t look up, but feel Crew nod against my head. Then Grady turns to leave, doing it slowly, even gingerly.

  “Grady.” Crew’s voice vibrates through his chest and I feel it everywhere. It takes Grady a moment to turn he’s moving so slow, and now I wonder how he got here fast enough to do what he did. When he turns to us, his marred face is intense with its bruises and scrapes. I don’t know the details of their assignment and can only imagine how bad it was when Crew says, “You said you’d never be able to repay that debt. But man, you just did.” He gives me a squeeze before going on. “You don’t know how grateful I am, but someday, I hope you get it.”

  Grady looks to me and then back to Crew. He lifts his head to Crew right when we hear commotion. That commotion includes a cow mooing and I can tell it’s Harry. I can’t believe, now of all times, she somehow got through the fence and is wandering through the vines. Besides my cow and Morris calling for me, blades of a helicopter fill the space.

  I barely see Grady turn to disappear into my vines when Crew turns me into him, holding me tight. When the commotion gets closer, Crew dips his lips to my ear. “It’s over, baby. Time to live.”

  Even with one traitor lying on the ground with his brains splattered all over my land and the other on the brink, I couldn’t agree more. Surrounded by death, another moment in time weaves its way into my soul, this one making the others shine bright as the sun.

  I’m so ready to live.

  Chapter 29 – Cow Daddy

  Crew – Four weeks later

  With my shoulders against the headboard, I gather her hair in my hands. As much as I love her rich brown hair spread across my lap, I want to see her mouth work me. Some days I think she loves my cock more than me. I feel like I’ve gone to heaven, won the lottery, and was named the number one draft pick in the NFL all at the same time. How could I have gotten so lucky? I’ve gotta muster all the control I can to prolong it, to have her mouth as long as I can instead of exploding in two point five seconds like a hormone-raging teenager.

  With her hand wrapped around the base of me, her other plays with my balls. Fuck. I breathe deep and pull her head up enough where she only gets the tip. That wins me her beautiful eyes and a scowl.

  “Suck the tip, baby.”

  But she doesn’t do as I say. She raises a brow and flicks the tip with her tongue, before mocking me, her voice dipping low and sultry. “Okay, baby.”

  I narrow my eyes, shaking my head. She certainly doesn’t comply all the time, but then again, it might become boring if she did. I wouldn’t want her any other way.

  Her perfect pink tongue peeks out, circling the tip before she asks against my raging hard-on, “Why do you always talk about it in the third person?”

  My muscles tense and I have to breathe deep to control myself. Having a conversation with her breath and words coming across my cock isn’t easy.

  “Because my cock is its own person when it comes to you.” I trace her bottom lip with my thumb before dipping my hand into her hair, pulling gently to get her attention. “And it wants you to suck its tip.”

  “But,” she starts before running her tongue up the length, making me crazy and doing it on purpose. She knows exactly what she’s doing, she’s playing a game I doubt she’ll mind losing in the end. “What if I want more,” she kisses the tip with her perfect puckered lips, “than its tip?”

  I soften my voice. “You want more?”

  She smiles and when she does, her lips brush across my cock. “I always want more, Crew.”

  I shake my head slowly before I move. I move so fast—she yelps in surprise. Before she knows it, she’s flipped to her back where I’ve shifted over her, straddling her face. I quickly spread her legs high and wide for me, her bare pussy wet and glistening. I can see everything clear as day since I turned all the lights on before stripping her bare. I wanted to see every bit of what I was in the mood for, but I didn’t plan this. This is even better.

  I dip my hand under her ass, lifting her hips to my face. Sliding my tongue through her wetness, she drops her knees wide, giving me what I want. When I rub my cock against her cheek, I say, “Take what you want, Abby.”

  She fists me as she moans, and I don’t waste any time pulling her clit into my mouth. Just for teasing me, I don’t give her what she wants, and barely offer her the tip of my cock. Her fingers dig into the muscles of my ass and she finally sucks. Fuck, that feels good and I give her more. Her hips start to move, pressing into my mouth, and there it is—her whimper. But this time I not only hear it, but feel it around my dick.

  I give her more as I take. Her noises, her pussy grinding against my mouth as I fuck hers, it’s a wonder I haven’t exploded.

  Just like always, I get her there first, and the suction around my cock goes slack when she moans and gasps, breathing hard against me.

  I can’t take another second.

  I climb off her and flip around. When I look at her face, her eyes are closed and her breathing labored, spent from her orgasm. Sliding between her legs with my knees to the bed, I pull her hips to me, and finally, I’m there.

  My Abby.

  “Yes,” she breathes as I slam into her, not able to hold back or keep it slow. There’s nothing more beautiful than seeing her take me.

  When I finally come, driving into her one last time, I stay deep inside as I drop my body to hers. Giving her only the weight she can handle, I take in the feel of her under me as I kiss her. Her hands slide through my hair and when I release her lips, she breathes against mine, “Wow.”

  I ignore her compliment and look into her eyes, delivering the truth. “You didn’t comply very well.”

  A knowing smirk floods her features. “If that’s what I get, you can count on me not complying more often.”

  I shake my head and kiss her again. “Love you, Abby.”

  Her smirk disappears, contentment and happiness taking over. “Love you, too.”

  *****

  Addy –

  I pop a green apple Laffy Taffy in my mouth, but before I look back to my sales projections, I smooth out the green wrapper on my desk.

  I smile. Today’s a good day, but then again every day for the last month has been a good day.

  I’d say everything’s back to normal, but who am I to know what normal is? I’ve never had normal. When one grows up the way I did, with their real identity buried deep, and they meet the love of their life who happens to be a retired killer one day while walking their cows, that’s not normal. Throw in treacherous acts against our country, cold-blooded murder, and deep-seated KGB stalking my internet searches, I know this is not what fairytales are made of. At least not for someone normal.

  Which makes me very not normal.

  Because I would travel my dark road a million times over to be right where I am.

  It’s been a month since Grady blew Marc Whittaker’s brains out in the middle of my vineyard. A month since Sheldon was almost killed on my land and a month since the CIA ended one of
its longest running investigations into known espionage against our country. They did their best to try and spin that story, but still, in the end, it didn’t look good for the CIA. What wasn’t featured in the news was what Crew was able to tell me from his sources—the entire old-school KGB group who were paying O’Rourke and Whittaker are gone.

  Gone.

  Six months ago, I wouldn’t have known what that meant, but that was before I was sleeping with a killer. I’m all in the know, now.

  Most importantly, it’s been a month since Crew and I have fallen into our new normal. A normal where I can come and go as I please, where I wake up and go to bed with Crew, without any dark clouds looming over us. It might not be normal-normal, but it’s normal for us, and I love it.

  Today is a good day because I struck gold with my Laffy Taffy. A cow joke.

  What do you get from a forgetful cow?

  Milk of amnesia.

  Cow jokes. Who knew they’d make me so happy? Then again, who knew I’d ever own cows?

  “Addy!” I hear and I can tell she’s in a rush.

  Swiveling my chair, I turn to my bulletin board which is designated solely for green cow jokes, and add it to my collection. I don’t have a ton, but there are more than you’d think. Finding a green cow joke is like finding a diamond in the rough, but I eat a lot of green Laffy Taffy.

  “Addy!” Bev rushes into my office. “Come quick, you’ll never believe this.”

  “What’s going on?” I get up and follow my enthusiastic friend who’s practically skipping ahead of me down the hall toward the tasting room.

  We’re halfway between Halloween and Thanksgiving, there’s a chill in the air, and most of the leaves have fallen. Even though I’m sad the harvest is over, I love fall. The dry air is really good for my hair.

  We make it through my tasting room, which is busy for midweek afternoon. We’re ramping up for our annual Thanksgiving Tasting this weekend. Last year was so busy I decided to up my game, have it catered, and take reservations. It booked quickly, the event should be twice as big as last year. If we make in sales what we did last year projected on attendance, November will be off the charts.