Ruthless Sentinel

by Burke, Lynn

  “Fuck.”

  He still in Columbia? I shot back.

  Devil: Yep. Heading home now. We’ll catch up later.

  I scrubbed a hand down over my face and shoved my cell back in my pocket, wishing for and yet knowing the Burtonellis weren’t any safer with the cartel leader’s location. That fucker had the contacts and cash to be halfway around the world when a bullet or bomb took out the wannabe senator set on eradicating the cartel’s business from New England.

  Five sets of eyes peered at me as I looked up.

  “Arturo’s the one who sent the death threats to Burtonelli,” I shared the news.

  A few curses sounded, but Vigil kept silent, his focus sliding to Warden. “Exactly as we’d thought. What do you want to do about it?”

  Warden wasn’t one to make a rash decision. His beard twitched as though he clenched his jaw a time or two while considering. “Burtonelli hired me and my boys to keep him safe, not do away with the threat—even though I’d love to bury the fucker.”

  Arturo had kidnapped Shaun the week before, and even though we’d managed to get her back through threat alone, we’d all known the shit would eventually hit the damn fan.

  “I say we make plans to take the fucker out,” Ryker said, his steady stare at Vigil revealing his surety the Vipers could easily pull it off. “Lop the head off the cartel and watch the body crumble.”

  “We take out the top dog, and the next in line will simply slide into place,” Ricky said, his focus on his brother rather than Ryker. “You better believe they’ll retaliate, too.”

  “Unless we take out the men around Arturo and those he shares blood with,” Sin offered with a shrug as though jetting down to Columbia to wipe out a few dozen people would be a cake walk.

  “Then we instigate a war between Arturo and the other cartel battling for ground,” Ryker said. “Let them do the dirty work for us.”

  “Or we do nothing for now and see where the chips fall.” Warden crossed his arms, but his gaze flitted to Shaun who still stood at the bar with her back to us, putting frothing beer mugs onto a tray. The worry that flitted over his face settled in my bones as well.

  Arturo, alive, promised trouble in our future like a ticking time bomb—for more than one brother’s woman. I hadn’t claimed Giada, but my head and gut told me she belonged to me same as Shaun did to Warden.

  “What do we do?” I asked Vigil, my fists on my thighs, torn from telling them the truth about the Burtonelli I wanted to protect more than my own life.

  “Burtonelli have any ties with the mafia?” Vigil asked Warden.

  “Nothing above ground. Nothing he brought up even though we’ve got an NDR in place, but we know that fucker has attempted to bury other sins from his past.”

  “Ryker?” our president turned to face him.

  Ryker shrugged, his face unreadable. He grew up in Southie, hanging with a handful of the mafia’s goons before hooking up with the Vipers twenty years earlier. “Could be. I’ve been away from the scene for a long fucking time, but I could ask around. See what shit I can dig up.”

  Vigil nodded. “Stirring up the shit pot between the local mafia family and Arturo would keep him preoccupied for a while at least. Maybe they’ll take care of the problem so we can keep our hands clean.”

  Shaun arrived with our beers and passed them out before settling on Warden’s knee, facing the table. “Looking for a way to do away with Arturo?”

  Christ knew she held no love for the fucker. Because of him, her mother had died. Her father met his end. He’d also threatened to make her his sex slave when he’d held her captive.

  “Club business,” Vigil muttered and glared at Warden with a silent order to keep his old lady out of it.

  Shaun snorted, her arms crossing. “I just found out I’m rich as fuck. I have my father’s contacts—hit men out the ass. Say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

  Ryker actually fucking chuckled in the silence that rushed in. “Wildcat.”

  Warden patted her thigh. “I don’t want that kind of shit on your conscious, sweetheart.”

  Vigil stared at her, as did Ricky, both quiet, their minds probably working hard as fuck while they ignored the beers in front of them.

  Ryker tipped his back and slugged his beer down, slamming the empty glass onto the table when he finished. “I say let the little girl spend her daddy’s money to take out the fucker that ended him. Fucking justice if you ask me.”

  “I’m not an officer, but I gotta agree with Ryker,” Sin threw in his two cents, the bloodthirsty prick.

  I glanced at Shaun.

  She held Vigil’s stare, ignoring Warden’s caress on her thigh. “Have you ever seen those Borne movies?”

  Vigil nodded.

  “Dad made no secret he had a man or two he could pay to take out anyone who thought to fuck with his family. Bragged about it after we watched the first movie together. Why the hell he didn’t go that route rather than attempt to take Arturo out himself, I don’t know.”

  “It was personal,” Warden mumbled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling him back against his chest. “Felt it was his duty.”

  She huffed. “Stupid jackass.” Her voice broke. “I might not be a patched member or officer of the Vipers,” she whispered, “but you guys are the only family I have. If you want Arturo gone, I’ll dig through my dad’s contacts and find a way to make it happen.”

  Vigil glanced at Ricky. They both turned toward Ryker without a word, needing his vote as an officer.

  “Fuck yes,” he said, his arms crossing once more.

  Our treasurer, Devil, was on his way home, so all three turned toward Warden next as our Enforcer.

  His beard twitched again before he rested his chin on Shaun’s shoulder. “You sure about this, Shaun?”

  She swallowed and covered his hands with hers before nodding. “Yes.”

  “Again,” Ricky said, sitting back, “taking out the head doesn’t do away with the cartel.”

  “It does away with that asshole,” Ryker muttered.

  “If Devil is half as good as Warden says he is in sending out encrypted messages,” Shaun said, “then no one will be able to trace the hit back to me—or the Vipers.”

  “I don’t like it.” Warden’s declaration didn’t get a single nod or muttered agreement from our brothers.

  Vigil’s lip curled for a split second, revealing his disgust over the entire situation, though. He scratched his chest while beckoning over one of the club whores with his other hand. “It’s been a long, fucking day,” he told us although his focus stayed on the woman approaching. “I’m going to drain my balls down a willing throat and pass the fuck out. We’ll have a meeting and come to a decision before New Year’s.”

  “Thanks for that visual,” Shaun muttered and pursed her lips.

  Ryker chuckled again.

  Vigil had laid down the law—even though New Year’s Eve had been the “or else” date for Burtonelli to drop his bid for the Senate seat. Knowing voicing that thought wouldn’t do a goddamn thing, I told Warden about the system Devil and I had set up earlier in the afternoon.

  Ten minutes later, our beers drained, I followed Warden and Shaun out into the cold. “You okay, Stone?” he asked, and I shrugged.

  “Fucking beat, but I’ve got next watch.”

  He opened the passenger door to his truck for Shaun and shut her in a few seconds later.

  I still stood hunched in the cold, scanning the club’s parking lot and the chain link fence beyond.

  “What’s your gut tell you about the Burtonelli case?” he asked.

  “That Arturo means business. Burtonelli doesn’t step down from the race by New Year’s Eve, and he’ll make good on his threat.”

  “I don’t like that judge fucker, but he paid us to protect his ass. Stay vigilant. Focused. I’ll probably bring Sin on board once he’s released from PT. Hell, if you feel you need me to help out, I don’t have anything lined up besides installing thr
ee security systems with Devil the middle of January.”

  I nodded. “Might need you for a party the Burtonellis’ planned for New Year’s Eve. Having a few more on detail that night sure as fuck won’t hurt.”

  “Let me know, brother.” Warden clasped my shoulder and rounded the front of his truck.

  Shaun gave me a little wave through the passenger window, and I turned on my heel, my stomach in a knot over the fact I had to head back to hell—and the angel who’d been forced to live there.

  Chapter Eight

  Giada

  Living under Father’s roof again sucked donkey balls. I had to drop a photo shoot two days in because he didn’t want us going anywhere. A lovely argument took place over the breakfast table, and I silently thanked God Logan hadn’t been around to witness it.

  I knew I needed to play nice, attempt to keep the peace, but the thought of living that way for eleven months—and my new insatiable need to plaster myself to Logan’s body and not being able to, kept me on a razor’s edge of pissiness. Add in PMS, and I was the bitch from hell.

  Father eventually smashed his palm onto the breakfast table with a hollered “Enough!” snapping my jaw shut. “If you value your life and those of your family, you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut, Giada! This is your life for the foreseeable future. Don’t fuck it up!”

  “Nicolo,” Mother murmured, reaching to touch his forearm with her fingertips. “Please, dear. You’ll never get that seat in the Senate if you give yourself a heart attack.”

  “It’ll be her doing if my heart decides it’s exhausted.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from blurting out shit about his eating habits, never mind his love of cigars and cognac.

  “I can imagine it’s quite stifling—for all the children,” Mother continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “Cristian will have to go to school and Marisa to the office with personal bodyguards. I think it’s only fair that Giada be allowed the same.”

  Father huffed and tossed his napkin onto the table. “If she needed to attend college or had a real job, I would agree.”

  My jaw clenched, but I picked up my coffee and sipped. There was no need to revisit the topic of my job and what he thought of it—he’d made his opinion clear as hell.

  “Before you lock yourself away in your office for the day,” Mother said, “we should discuss the final plans for the New Year’s Eve party.”

  Yet another reason to grit my teeth.

  Every year, my parents threw a party on December 31st, one they required their three children to attend. While they boozed it up with their high and mighty so-called friends, we’d been forced to endure a boring as hell evening. At least once Marisa and I reached drinking age, we’d been allowed a glass of champagne.

  Father didn’t trust us—me, more like it—to not make a fool of myself in front of his colleagues, but I’d brought that on myself. God forbid a finally legal girl have fun, get drunk, and dance on the tables out of need to liven the party up a bit.

  “What’s there to discuss?” Father stood, brushing aside Mother’s hand. “I thought you said everything was planned.”

  “Well, it is.” Mother’s smile wobbled as she clasped her hands in her lap. “But I thought perhaps we might do somethings a bit different.”

  “Such as?” he asked, brow raised as he peered down at her as though lording his position as head of household.

  “Well.” Mother licked her lower lip and glanced at Cristian then Marisa. “Cristian has brought it to my attention that the Leonards are hosting a party of their own for the senior class—dry, of course.”

  “And Peter asked me to dinner with his family,” Marisa added before Father could snap out a no.

  His focus jerked toward my sister with a calculated glint in his eye. Peter Reynolds was one of Boston’s richest men. Too old for my sister as far as I was concerned, a widow with three grown children close to Marisa’s age, but it was her life. Father had been after his support—monetarily—for months from what I’d heard, so I wasn’t surprised when he finally nodded.

  “Fine, but a guard goes with you.”

  “And me?” Cristian asked, not bothering to hide the pleading in his tone.

  “A guard stays with you at the Leonards and will bring you home first thing in the morning.”

  Cristian’s face broke into a wide grin, and he nodded. “Thank you, Father.”

  Marisa murmured her thanks as well.

  Hope sprang to life in my mind, and I dared to open my mouth. “Janice Rushing sent me an invite to her party.”

  Father glared at me at the mention of the congressman’s daughter. “The society you’ve made company with is more interested in their looks and social status than I find tolerable.”

  Janice wasn’t a close friend, but she’d made a name for herself as the co-founder and editor in chief of one of the biggest fashion magazines in the world—lucky bitch even had the backing of both her parents when she’d decided to pursue a career outside politics. She also had cash out the ass and sway with her bigwig contacts in the fashion industry as well as the media—online and in paper.

  “She’s still undecided on her campaign contribution her father suggested...” I offered Father a wink even though minutes earlier he’d been calling me all sorts of lovely names.

  He paused, definitely to consider the thought of my actually being an asset for a change.

  “Would you at least trust me to put in some good words here and there—remind her of your stances, what you’re running on?” I pushed before he shot me down.

  Father’s lips pursed and he huffed through his nose. “Ever the manipulative one, Giada. Yes, I do trust you to get that job done at least.” He turned away, and my smirk turned into a true grin.

  Yes!

  “Fail to get me the backing of those in her pocket, though,” Father said without looking over his shoulder as he strode away, “and you’ll be confined to this house until Election Day.”

  And just like that, my excitement dissolved.

  I held zero sway with Janice. She’d probably only invited me because my agent, a good friend of hers, had managed to snag me a tiny image in the Christmas edition of her magazine.

  Maybe I’d get lucky, same as with the invite, but I truly doubted it.

  At least, I’d be able to escape the house for a few hours and party it up.

  Father disappeared, but poked his head back into the dining room before I could push back my chair.

  “Our house guards can shadow Cristian and Marisa, and Mr. Stone goes with you,” Father said, pointing at me. “As head of our security, I know he’ll keep you in line.”

  I nodded, biting on my lip to keep it from tilting upward.

  “Shouldn’t he remain here?” Mother asked, her tone worried. “With the number of people we’re having—”

  “I’ll have Mr. Stone bring on a few more Tellier men for the party. He is focused on his task more than the rest of our security. He’s the only one I trust to keep her out of trouble.”

  Father disappeared, his word law, and I caught Cristian’s eye as he chuckled.

  If Father only knew how much trouble—the good kind—I’d gotten into with one Mr. Stone.

  ****

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  Logan kept his focus on the road ahead of the chauffer driving us.

  It’d been three days since Father agreed the Burtonelli children might party it up outside the traditional New Year’s Eve bash, and I’d only seen Logan in passing.

  Too chicken shit to visit his room late at night, I’d opted to stay hunkered down in my own when I knew he slept at our house. It had been six days since I’d had his hands and mouth on me, his cock so far up my pussy I couldn’t remember my name.

  “Logan?” I pressed when he didn’t respond.

  He leaned forward and put the up the privacy window separating us from the hired driver.

  Tingles that had sprung to life earlier when he’d held my ha
nd to help me in the car returned in full force, and I squeezed my thighs together to ease the ache, the longing to be filled.

  “I told you I’m not as strong as you,” he said, sitting back once more, but making no move to reach for me.

  “So it’s not that you got a sample and decided you had enough?”

  Heat flared to life in his eyes, pulsing my clit. “Never.”

  I smiled, dimples and all, and he groaned.

  “You’re killing me, Giada.”

  As much as I wanted to say, “fuck the party, let’s drive around all night long and fuck ourselves silly in the back of the limo”, I had a job to do for my father.

  “My lipstick won’t smear,” I said, my voice low as I subtly shifted closer.

  He stared at my red lips. “The way I want to taste you right now, your pretty little hair-do and that sequin dress wouldn’t survive.”

  I gulped, fire damn near consuming every inch of my skin as a hot flash swept over me.

  “Tempting,” I whispered.

  His gaze smoldered as it lifted to my eyes.

  Silence surrounded us, and I wondered if he could hear the pounding of my heart.

  The car slowed, and I cursed, glancing out the window beyond Logan.

  We’d arrived, but sat three cars back from the hotel’s awning. I returned my focus to Logan’s face to find his jaw clenched, his nostril’s flared. Giddiness lit through the lust holding me hostage, and I giggled.

  “We stay for an hour then take a very long drive around the city.”

  “And if asked, the limo driver tells him where we spent half the night?” Logan shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  My joy faded as the car moved forward one space. Another idea lit. “We could always get a room here at the hotel...”

  One of Logan’s eyebrows arched.

  “We sneak away from the party a bit early—fuck all night long—” I grasped the hard ridge along his left thigh “—and return home at the time Father expects me, him none the wiser.”

  “Little vixen. You’ll be the death of me.”

  My smile returned as he groaned, his eyes damn near rolling back into his head as he clasped a hand over mine, stilling me from working his cock.