I went into the kitchen to catch Pierce at the stove stirring a large pot. “What on Earth are you doing?”
He gestured at the burner. “What does it look like?”
I watched him for a second, scanning his features for anything different. After being away from me for a few hours, maybe he changed his mind and wanted to chuck me out to the curb. I’d long been aware I wasn’t an easy person to deal with.
He placed a wooden spoon on the countertop. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Nothing mattered in that second but touching him. As if the very cells in my body depended on his skin for survival. I took one step forward, and he met me in the middle, anchoring my face in his hands as I pushed up on my tip toes to reach his mouth.
He tasted like rich red sauce and wine. I couldn’t get my tongue deep enough in his mouth, and he couldn’t keep his hands in one place. Starting from my face, scratching his short nails along my neck, down my waist, to my ass. Until he lifted me up and I was still tracking the edges of his tongue with mine. It was heat and fire and the burn I craved every time I kiss someone.
I could never figure out if we were so drawn to each other because of some chemical makeup, or if a deeper bond ensured neither of us would be happy elsewhere.
My fingers curled around the base of his skull, and I held on tight while he walked me to the counter. It took less than a second for him to sit me down on the edge, pop the button on my jeans, and angle his hand into my panties. I broke the kiss with a gasp, and his dark eyes focused on my lips.
“I don’t think this is sanitary,” I said in a pant.
He dragged a nail across my clit, and I jumped in his hold. “I don’t think I give a fuck.”
From the years of experience, he knew exactly how to bring me to the edge and hold me there until I writhed in his arms. “Ask me for it.”
I ground forward, trying to get the last few seconds of friction I need. “What?”
He speared his free hand into my hair and pulled tight, arching my neck backward. It was uncomfortable and demeaning and so damn hot. “Ask me to let you come. Ask me nicely, Baby Girl, and I’ll give it to you.”
These were the games we play. Not dominance and submission, but command and concede.
I swallowed the retort building as my nerve endings screamed for release. “Pierce, please, make me come.”
He jerked my hair tighter and slipped his middle finger inside me. Then he used his thumb to work my clit. I broke open between heartbeats and rode his hand until the cloud in my brain receded.
Gently, he released my hair first and slowly wound me down, before removing his hand from my pants.
I smiled at him softly until he licked his fingers one by one like a cat with a fresh batch of nip. The haze surged back, and I grabbed for his belt buckle.
He stopped my hands. “Sorry, Baby Girl. We don’t have enough time for what I want to do to you right now. For dessert, I promise.”
He kissed me and washed his hands. I hopped off the counter and tried to arrange myself to look like a woman who did not just have an orgasm next to a sauce pot.
A guard knocked gently on the glass patio door and then entered. I stopped and stared at Gerry, one of the few guards I knew by name. “Hello, Ms. Katherine,” he said.
I wanted to check if my fly was zipped, but I just tugged my shirt down instead. “Hi, Gerry. You can call me Kat, if you want.”
He nodded sharply and slid the door closed with a snap. I pointed toward the kitchen and hunted down my phone while they talked. I’d always known who Pierce was. As a member of the same circles, I’d see him at functions or special events. I hadn’t had much interaction with his day-to-day though. And I never learned what the infamous Wild Dogs were known for around town. Something I should probably find out now.
I scrolled through my phone and stopped at a text from Bianca.
By the time I read to the end, the words began to blur in an entirely different kind of mindless haze.
“Pierce,” I called, surprised at the calmness in my tone. The lights were pulsing slightly around the edges of my vision. He poked his head out, took one look at me, and came out to face me, drying his hands on a towel.
I tossed my phone at him. He caught it one handed, towel still in the other. It took him a second to read it. “Hey, Gerry, why don’t you go round up the boys to get something to eat.”
He stepped forward, took my arm, and dragged me into the bedroom. By the time he closed the door, I was clawing at his fingers to let me go. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He released me so quickly, I stumbled back. Then he pressed the phone to my chest and stared down into my eyes hard. “I know you. And I know you are about five seconds from blowing a gasket and starting a huge blow out with me. I spent an hour making dinner for you, so I’m going to end this right here.”
He put more pressure on the phone. It didn’t hurt, but it did force me to focus on his hand instead of the rage thrumming in time with my pulse. “I’m going to say this once. Two men did come here and ask to marry Bianca. I told both of the little boys they would need to make an appointment with you about it, and to refer to you on any other Italian business which pops up.”
I sputtered on what to say. Why the hell would anyone come to him in the first place? His scent surrounded me, and the smell of sex and sauce. I pushed him back and turned away. Thinking was impossible with him so close.
The only thing that pounded in my head was that the families assumed Pierce had taken leadership of the five. Not even possible since he’s not related by blood. But the old bastards seemed to think his gender precluded DNA and a complete lack of knowledge related to our operations.
Fucking. Bastards.
I didn’t turn around, but I held my hand behind me to get my phone back. Telling Bianca the truth would only upset her, so I simply texted I had things under control. She trusted me to handle family business I hoped.
When my breathing slowed and I could finally think past the pounding in my ears, I turned to face him.
Pierce sat on the edge of the bed leaning back on his hands. “Are we good?”
I took another stuttered exhale and nodded once. “I’m sorry.”
Apologizing was never something I did well. Hopefully, he could take it and not press further. There had been times me apologizing to him worked fine, others, he pushed me on them until I begged for forgiveness. Usually in similar means to the activities on his countertop.
The sound of dishes from the kitchen reached us, and he stood up. “Hungry?”
“I’m starving, actually.”
He gripped my shoulders and looked into my face hard. “You didn’t eat anything today?”
What did he expect? I barely remembered to eat on normal days. It became worse the busier I got. I shrugged instead of answering.
He lifted my chin in a tight grip. “We are going to work on that. For now, let me feed you.”
I leaned up, kissed him, and let him lead me into the kitchen.
Five men, including Gerry were standing around the countertops with plates of spaghetti in their hands. All of them silently shoveled in pasta at breakneck pace.
Pierce led me in by the hand. “You guys know you can sit at the table right?”
They all filed out, and Pierce made plates for us and carried them to the table. It was a large table, seating twelve, so we all fit easily. They all wore shades of black and leather jackets. I wanted to make a joke about waiting for the rest of The Village People, but decided against it. None of them, not even Gerry, knew me well enough to take it as a joke.
They’d called me a showpiece. They’d called me a shrew. I glanced across the table at Pierce. Muscular, covered in tattoos, every inch of him screaming at people to run away. And yet, the curve of his smile and his laugh were so sweet, anyone would be entranced by it.
“You’re not eating,” he said, breaking my focus on him.
Heat surged up my neck, so I ducked d
own and ate. The sauce tasted sweet and spicy at the same time. Simple and yet it stuck to the noodles perfectly. I didn’t realize I’d let out a moan until everyone at the table broke out laughing.
I wiped my chin. “What?”
“You like it huh?” Pierce asked, and laughed again.
“It’s amazing. Where did you get this recipe? And don’t tell my grandmother, but it’s better than hers. Although when you meet her, I don’t advise you telling her that, or you might find a chicken head in your bed.”
He scoffed. “In our bed.”
I shook my head. “No, my friend, if you tell my grandmother you make a better red sauce than her, I’ll be a widow before the week is out.”
The guys glanced between us nervously, but Pierce only smiled. “So she is like every other Minola woman then.”
“Seems improbable, right?”
“More like a menace to public safety.”
I ate until I couldn’t fit anything else in. Once I sat back and surveyed them, I could see Pierce’s men respected him deeply. They looked to him for answers, acceded to him in conversation, and asked for his opinion. I let the conversation go, not joining, just listening.
They’d called me many things in my life. But with this man beside me…with him as my weapon…
They’d call me queen.
Nine
Pierce
It occurred to me on Tuesday morning, as paperwork crammed in folders strewn across my dining room table, I should tell Kat about my business. We’d never really gotten into details about our respective families.
I didn’t know how I could talk to her about it safely, however. As if summoned, the front door opened, and Kat swept in carrying a handful of paper shopping bags while tugging her sister in behind her.
I closed my computer and wondered if I should ask about the shopping trip or wait until one of them spoke to me.
Kat tossed her bags on the couch, and they both wandered into the kitchen, talking loudly in Italian waving their hands back and forth at each other. Yeah, better stay out of it.
I sat back and waited, enjoying the sultry sound of Kat’s voice working around foreign syllables.
They exited, clutching water bottles, and halted on the other side of the table, as if they only just noticed they weren’t alone.
I smiled. “Hi.”
Kat paused for a beat, then came around to kiss me on the cheek. I wanted to draw her into my lap, give us both a reason for an afternoon nap, but I knew how much she valued time with her sister. I let her pull away.
“We were thinking of going to lunch,” Bianca said. She flicked her eyes to her sister pointedly.
I could sit and try to figure out if they actually wanted me to join them, or… I peered up at my wife. “Do you want me to go, or do you want to be alone with your sister?”
She leaned down and whispered in my ear. “I want you to go, and then we can take the car back alone and make use of the backseat.”
I didn’t even care where they wanted to go. My cell phone vibrated on the table, and I checked the text from Holt, saying he’d brought the car around. Kat must have asked him.
I stood, buttoned my sleeves, and shoved my arms into my jacket. “After you, ladies.”
They took me to a bistro ten minutes away, a place the crew visited often. The tables outside were set, despite the brisk early spring temperature.
Kat settled at a table near the plate glass window, and Bianca and I took the other two chairs. The waitress came out immediately, took drink orders, and returned inside, clasping her navy sweater tight to her body.
I didn’t like sitting out in the open with both of them, but I didn’t want to ruin her day by insisting we go inside out of a sense of unease. She’d likely throw the bread basket at me.
We all ordered soup, and I sat content to listen to them ping pong back and forth. I’d never seen this side of Kat. Our relationship had never been traditional, so I didn’t get romantic dates, or late dinners, or to hear about her day. At least not until it went sideways and she showed up at my door clutching a magnum of French Champaign.
This smiling, normal, vibrant woman I didn’t recognize. Oh, but I wanted to know her. Only decency and the presence of her family kept my hands in my lap.
The soup arrived, and I focused my attention on the crowd while they ate. I took a few sips of the pumpkin bisque after Kat questioned me. Then I continued keeping watch. Something tingled against my neck. I almost called Fox to join me, but decided I was likely being paranoid.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Kat asked me for the second time since we sat down.
I shook my head and met her eyes. “No reason. Not as hungry for lunch as I thought I was.”
She blushed and ducked her chin. The telltale pink washing up her neck told me she knew exactly what I didn’t say.
Bianca pointed a breadstick toward me, drawing my attention away from Kat. “So, Mr. Mysterious, you still haven’t told my sister what it is your family does.”
“Well, it’s not exactly conversation for lunch or public.”
One of her blonde eyebrows raised, rivalling Jack Nicholson. “You do know what we do, right?”
“What our family does,” Kat corrected. Something passed between them. I knew Kat kept Bianca as far away from the dark side of her family as possible.
Officially, I didn’t know anything but the front. Unofficially, I knew more than enough.
Bianca leaned in like she wanted me to whisper my secrets, I didn’t join her. “I’m not saying a word out here.”
“And nothing to you,” Kat added.
Bianca threw a piece of the breadstick at her, crumbs dotting her brown curls. I wished my brothers and I could be this easy with each other. My family would protect each other to death, but that death would likely come from one of our own hands. Dinners and events often ended with bloody nose and bones needing reset. They’d started collecting car keys and weapons at the door.
The girls finished their soup when the hair on my arms started to stand on end. I kept my survey inconspicuous, picking up my cell phone and glancing around with my chin tucked down.
A man in a trench coat, with a scarf pulled up over his face walked steadily down the sidewalk. He wore sunglasses, and there were no discerning features I could grasp. All the classic signs of a pro.
With my phone already open, I sent a text to Fox, ordering him to get here now. Then I shoved my phone in my pocket and grasped the collapsed baton tucked in the outer pocket. He continued getting closer, and I surveyed our positions. Me with my back to the other two tables, he’d cut right behind me, Kat sat locked between the table and the window, Bianca on the other side. He could target any of us, and we were all in vulnerable positions. As my heartbeat climbed, adrenaline pouring in my blood, my palms started to sweat.
Only a few meters left, he inched closer. I stood casually, and came around the table like I wanted to see what Kat read on her phone. She glanced up at me, then at the man who slowly ambled past our table. The color drained from her cheeks, and I didn’t wait to for him to make a move.
As if in slow motion, he dragged his hand from his coat pocket, a small handgun clutched tight. I flicked my arm, snapped out the baton, and slammed it on the nerve right at his wrist. He dropped the gun. Then I rammed the heel of it into his nose, following with my fist. He crumpled to the sidewalk.
Fox raced up in seconds from the car he’d parked up over the curb. We’d made a scene, but I didn’t care as long as Kat remained safe.
He grabbed the man, his gun, and dragged him back to the vehicle. The crew would figure out what to do with him, and how he knew where to find us.
Kat sat, hands shaking, Bianca leaning into her, gripping her arms. I tossed a few bills on the table, my own fingers trembling from adrenaline still pounding under the skin. “Ladies, let’s go.”
They both got up without argument, and I followed them to the car. Holt took off, and I sank back into the seat, finall
y able to breathe.
I dragged her into my lap, and I didn’t care about Bianca’s presence, or if Holt could see, I needed my arms around her, proof she was fine. Proof a random stranger didn’t take her from me on a busy street corner. “Tell me you’re okay,” I whispered, nuzzling my face into her hair.
“I’m fine,” she said, her cold fingers on my hot cheeks.
“Holt, we are taking Bianca home. I’m putting Fox on her until I can hire a guard.”
Kat’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue with me. Bianca didn’t even argue with me. I supposed right after an attack would be the perfect time to get the upper hand in an unwinnable argument.
We pulled up to Bianca’s building, and Fox already stood on the corner. His motorcycle parked illegally around the corner. He opened the door and let Bianca climb out. The sisters hugged tight, and Kat watched her walk to the door. “Don’t sleep with the bodyguard,” she yelled. A few people stared, and her sister spun for a second to flash her the bird.
“Glad she isn’t traumatized,” Kat said as she squeezed back in next to me.
I grabbed her around the waist, lifted her onto my lap, and stripped her jacket off her shoulders roughly. She caught on fast, pulling at the edge of her pencil skirt, dragging it up to her waist.
Nothing could break through the compulsion to be inside her. My cock shot rock hard as I grasped the bottom of her panties, the one thin layer of cotton separating me from everything I needed, and jerked it aside. She’d opened my belt and fly for me already. I arched my hips so she could wriggle them down enough to move. She freed my cock with her other hand and angled it to meet her.
She slid onto me smooth and warm, and I shuttered, releasing her underwear and wrapping my fingers to her ass. I don’t even have to set the pace. She used my shoulders to anchor herself and took up a furious pace, sliding on and off of me, pushing from her knees. She panted and moaned with each thrust. I held on tight and marveled at this woman. This fucking woman. My woman. The animal inside of me roared to mark her, take her, fuck her until she couldn’t think about anything or anyone but my cock in her pussy.
Professional Liar Page 6
