“You’re going to open and suck Rome, while I take this ass.”
I swallow a worried lump in my throat. Faron runs a hand over the slope of my back, and then drizzles cold lube down my crease.
“I’ll take care of you, little girl. Don’t you worry.”
24
It feels like my heart has been torn out of my chest, and I’m left empty and bleeding the moment my plane departed. I’d hoped against all hope that Faron would change his mind and come with me, especially after our time together last night. But instead, he sent Dempsey who occupies the seat next to me.
I shift in my seat, turning my face away from him, as my cheeks flush hot and my body responds to the memories of my experience last night. The way I was worshipped and watched and so thoroughly used by Rome and Faron. It was so perfect and everything I’d wanted it to be. I was there little girl, and they were my sun, moon and galaxy filled with stars.
West actually joined us last night towards the end, watching intently as Faron fucked me as I was suspended from the ceiling in a swing. At that point, I’d nearly blacked out from the four orgasms I’d already been bestowed, and the new sensation of having my ass taken for the first time.
Afterwards, I was so exhausted, I fell limply into Faron’s arms and he brought me back to the Cove, showering me with aftercare and the sweetest words he’d ever said to me.
All my fears and doubts I’d had over my lack of sexual experience were quickly dismissed with every touch and caress from Faron. Becoming his submissive, and sharing the scene last night with the brothers, has done something for me. Has irrevocably changed me. Turned me into a woman no longer fearful of handing over control to a man, or worried of being hurt or abused.
With Faron, he’s established boundaries and trust, and given me endless pleasure and praise.
But now, I miss it. I miss him. And an empty loneliness has settled in my heart, as breakable as glass.
When he dropped me off at the airport this morning, he didn’t establish any timeframe for my return to Europe. It was left open-ended, supposedly to give me time to sort through my father’s affairs, talk with Johno to get the information on the diamond’s whereabouts, and figure out a plan if and when I do locate it.
All of it seems daunting and every minute of the flight I doubt myself and my abilities. Every additional mile of distance placed between me and Faron, I question whether what we shared together was real.
Is he just using you to get the diamond?
Do I mean anything to him?
I fall asleep sifting through the memories of last night, my goodbye this morning and the plans for when I land in Newark.
“Miss Phillips? Wake up. We’ve landed.”
Dempsey gently nudges my shoulder to rouse me from my sleep. I blink in confusion, rubbing my eyelids to adjust to the bright light of the morning sun streaming through the plane’s tiny portal window.
“Thank you. Hope I didn’t snore to loudly in your ear.”
He chuckles good naturedly. “Only a little.”
He stands and removes our carry-ons from the bins above, declining with a shake of his head when I try to retrieve mine from his hand.
We wait through the long U.S. Customs process which gives me time to put together my plan. I’ve decided to start with combing through the house to see if I can locate the original jewel. Mudd had his hiding places that I’d found by accident over the years as a kid, playing hide-and-seek games or trying to hide my candy or piggy bank money from my brother’s greedy hands.
The Customs process this time around is less complicated then my experience in Antwerp, with nothing to declare and just my carry-on, so we head out to the taxi line to grab a car. As we wait in line, Dempsey texts Faron to let him we’ve arrived, and I get an odd sense that I’m being watched. The back of my neck tingles with the weight of someone’s stare, which is ridiculous, I know, but I can’t shake the feeling.
Twisting my head from side-to-side, I bend over, pretending I’m searching for something in my bag as I subtly look around as inconspicuously as possible. Noticing nothing or anyone out of the ordinary or equally nefarious, I shake off the strange vibe and step inside the taxi that’s pulled up.
“Everything okay?” Dempsey inquires, slipping his phone back in pants pocket.
“Oh, yeah. How about with Faron? What did he have to say?”
Dempsey glances out the window, avoiding my eyes. “Nothing much. Just that I was to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.”
He whips his head back around. “So, if you see anything, you’ll let me know.”
I nod in agreement and give the driver my home address, as he takes off toward I-9 North toward Jersey City and Hoboken.
The weather is gray and dreary, a light mist of rain coating the filthy streets and highways. We pass brick and cement buildings a century old and over the Passaic and Hackensack Rivers cluttered with barges of containers, sewage seeping through the embankments littered with trash. Ah, to be home again. Although it’s an ugly city and a world away from the beauty of Antwerp and Paris, I still feel the connection with my hometown.
The ride takes less than thirty minutes, as the taxi turns down Washington Street and parks along the tree-lined street. For all the shit Mudd put me through as a kid, he did a pretty good job picking out a decent neighborhood for me to grow up in. It’s not the nicest part of town and certainly not the white picket fenced home of story books, but it’s a quiet neighborhood with kids running around, a well-maintained park and a bodega on the corner.
Granted, there are drug dealers, pimps and gang members still winding through the streets, but they never bothered me and were just a fact of life growing up in this area.
I walk to the front gate, warped and turning a weird shade of green from the elements, and open it up, heading to the front door that has been barricaded with yellow police tape, warning violators of no entry. I swallow hard, as this makes my father’s death all too real.
Until now, it was only words. Hearsay. But seeing this brings it all home. This is where my father was killed. And while he may no longer be inside, death has visited only recently.
Dempsey stops me with a gigantic arm across my chest, cross-guard style.
“Whoa, there. Hang on.” His tone is a warning. He pushes in front of me, holding out his hand for me to relinquish the keys, which I drop in his palm for him to open it up.
I think Faron is being overly cautious for no reason. With my dad out of the picture, there’s no purpose anyone would have to come looking for me. I can offer them nothing. I’m not the head of the family and don’t have the network to run the business. I’m just a two-bit punk with a skill in thievery.
The same feeling I experienced while leaving the airport has returned, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end with the sense that someone is watching me. Dempsey peels back the tape but struggles with the door, which always had a way of sticking and never seemed to get fixed. As he gives the key a turn and a nudge with his shoulder, I look behind my shoulder, scanning the cars lined up down the street.
The door creaks open, the room shrouded in darkness, but the door gets stuck on something in its way. He pushes harder with an exhaustive grunt.
And then his alarmed voice cuts through the blaring street noises. “What the fuck is this?”
I try to peer around him but can’t see past his big bulkiness, so I step onto my tiptoes, managing just enough leverage to see over his shoulder. And when I do, I gasp.
“Holy shit! My house…someone’s ransacked it.” I cover my mouth with my hand, staring wide-eyed at the disastrous mess that’s been made in the living room.
Dempsey tries to block my entry, but I give him a hard shove to his side and barge through the entry. But I don’t get very far when I find myself stalled in the middle of the room, turning side-to-side with all the contents strewn about like a tornado hit the house with a mighty force.
“Miss Gemma, I can’t
have you here. Mr. Blake would definitely not approve. It’s not safe.”
He backs me up with a gesture of his arm, withdrawing a gun from his pants that I hadn’t noticed until now.
I try to rationalize with him, because I need to find that diamond. Or at least the trail that leads to the diamond.
“Listen, Demps. I know your job is to protect me, and I really appreciate that. But we don’t know who was here or even when. The police could’ve tossed this place during the investigation. And if it was someone else, they’re long gone. So, I’m sure we’re fine. Plus, I have to find that diamond for Faron.”
Dempsey gives me a wary look, considering the validity of my assertions. He keeps the gun in his hand but inclines his head in approval.
“Let me check around first. Stay put.” He gestures toward the couch, which is missing several cushions, and I go take a seat.
As he meanders through the empty rooms, checking for intruders and marauders, I wring my hands together in worry, trying to decide where, if Mudd did hide it, could possibly be? Ticking off in my head all his old favorite hiding spots, where he’d hide wads of cash and contraband, I think of two possibilities. The floorboards under his dresser and behind the log pile in the back yard.
I jump to my feet, spinning around to run out the back door to check it out when I’m halted by the site of Dempsey being held at gunpoint, a gloved hand covering his mouth, blood spilling down his cheek from the gash in his temple, his wide eyes expressing dread and remorse.
“Oh my God!” I scream, ready to help, but the sound is muffled when a hand clamps down on my open mouth and my arms are pinned to my sides from someone behind me.
I thrash and kick to no avail, this guy’s hold on me too strong to escape. From behind me I hear the dainty sound of clickety-clacks against the wood floor, a pair of high heels echo to signal we have a new visitor in our midst.
Twisting my head with all my might, I drag my gaze to the finely dressed woman now standing in my entryway of my completely trashed house.
It takes me a moment for it to register in my foggy brain. She looks so familiar. How do I know her? Where have I seen her before?
My eyes squint and brows knit together as it finally dawns on me why I recognize her.
The expensive perfume and heels are the same as they were in Belgium. It’s the same woman I met at the airport and who gave me a ride to the club.
“Hello, darling. Good to see you again, Gemma.”
Dorian.
What the hell is she doing here?
25
What the hell is going on right now?
Confusion wraps its long tentacles inside my brain like an octopus, and dizziness bleeds into corners of my vision as I fear I may actually pass out.
“Darling, you look so shocked to see me again. You’re white as a ghost. Come, sit down.”
Dorian gestures widely to the couch, giving the man holding me a signal to let me go. I’m honestly too stunned to try and escape, and I think she knows this. I flick a look at Dempsey, as she sees the direction of my gaze.
Her voice is steely venom. “Take care of him.”
“Wait, what? No!” I yell, beseeching her not to do what I think she’s going to do. “Please, let him go.”
She pulls off a pair of fancy, Italian gloves, one finger at a time, and examines her manicure as if she’s trying to decide whether to change her nail polish color. Completely disinterested in my protest to save Dempsey’s life.
She tsks through a saccharine smile, her head cocked to the side in a patronizing tilt.
“Oh darling, aren’t you just the sweetest,” she sighs, leaning over to pat my hand with hers. I pull it back as if her touch is poison. Which it very might well be. “Let’s consider a trade, shall we?”
My head is spinning so fast with a billion possibilities for the reason she’s here. But I can’t connect the dots.
A slew of questions tumbles from my mouth. “Who are you? What do you want? Why the hell are you here? Did you know who I was when we met?”
Under normal circumstances, her laugh would probably sound light and breezy, perhaps even friendly and warm. Instead, it’s menacing and diabolical, a monster the likes of Maleficent.
Dorian crosses her legs, her black pencil skirt stretching tight around her thighs. She’s dressed like a Manhattan socialite and her appearance in my home is marked with contradiction.
She places folded hands on her lap. “Let’s see. Where shall I begin? Ah, how about with your father, Mudd. That bastard conned me and stole from me. Ironically, it was the diamond I paid him to steal for me, and then the double-crossing asshole offered to sell it to the Blake brothers.”
My jaw drops open as I shake my head in disbelief. She knows Faron and his brothers? Oh shit, I need to warn him! I’m about to whip out my phone when I realize that I dropped my bags at the front door and my phone isn’t with me.
It wouldn’t matter anyway, considering I’m surrounded by bad men with guns and one swindled, pissed off woman who are watching my every move and will pounce with little provocation.
Which leads me to wonder if she had anything to do with my father’s murder.
“Did you kill Mudd?”
Dorian feigns innocence with a hand over her heart. “Oh darling, it pains me to think you believe me capable of such heinous behavior.”
I roll my eyes hard. “Cut the shit, Dorian. Enough with the righteous attitude. I know he was murdered by someone who he fucked over. And it stands to reason you fit the bill pretty well.”
She lifts her delicate hands and steeples them under her chin, looking like a saint when in truth, she may be the worst sinner of all.
“It doesn’t appear that I’m the only one, darling. Let’s see, there’s the Blake Brothers…” Her finger taps her chin before pointing toward me. “And speaking of fucked. I hear you’ve become very close to those three delicious men in a very biblical sense. You do realize that they only used you to get their rocks off. They’ll discard you soon enough.”
My face pales and a whoosh of white noise clouds my head. I blink rapidly, trying to tamp down my rage. I want to throw myself over her and gauge her eyes out.
“You bitch,” I seethe. “Did you fucking have me followed? Were you watching me in Belgium?”
She lifts a bony shoulder with indifference. “I really did mean what I said when I dropped you off at their club that day. I warned you to turn around and go home. But you’re either too stubborn or just young and dumb, and you fell for all that bullshit Faron throws on young women.”
Her words are spiked with jealousy. Which can mean only one thing.
“Oh, you poor, sad woman. Now I get it. Faron fucked and dumped you, didn’t he?”
Now I understand all the missing puzzle pieces and know what she wants.
The slap across my face is not expected and reminds me of all the backhands I received as a child from my father’s quick, igniting temper. My head snaps back with the force of her hand, but I laugh at her reaction because now I have something to work with. Now I have a better understanding of who Dorian is and her motive.
Now I know what I have, and that she wants. Neither of which, however, I’m able to give to her. So, this whole situation is one that can’t be easily resolved.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that, Gemma. And you best be prepared for the moment he turns cruel and callous, because believe me Gemma, that man loves no one except himself and his brothers. He will fuck you, mind, body and heart.”
I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
On one hand, one woman to another, I can empathize with pain of betrayal and the unreciprocated love from a man. I lived that every day of my childhood until I got to a point where I no longer cared.
And on the other hand, she needs to grow the fuck up. Even I know that sometimes love can hurt worse than the betrayal.
The sting of her slap rages red over my cheekbone, as I rub away the ache.
�
��Okay, Dorian. You warned me, I get it. But where does that leave us now? And for the record, I couldn’t care less if you did kill Mudd. He may have been considered my father, but what he really was, was a monster. One that I wanted the hell away from.”
Dorian leans over, jabbing her fingernail into chest above my heart.
“I want that diamond.”
Join the club.
“I honestly don’t know where it is, Dorian. And look at this place,” I gesture around the room. “If you couldn’t uncover it, how the hell do you think I will?”
“Because you’ll have extra incentive.”
I don’t know what she means by this, until she twists around and flicks her gaze to the man holding the gun on Dempsey. She gives an infinitesimal nod of her chin.
There’s a popping sound, like a cork being freed from a bottle, and then a grave thump as Dempsey lands in a heap on the floor. Blood drains from his head, pooling around the killer’s feet, as he steps over it just as casually as he would a puddle of rain.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp, my gaze floating between Dempsey and Dorian. And then back to Dempsey.
Oh my God, they just killed him. My stomach roils and threatens to spill its contents, which isn’t much since we haven’t eaten in hours. Swallowing hard, I turn back around toward Dorian, every muscle in my body tensing and ready to go to war.
“You crazy, fucking bitch.”
She actually smiles at this. “It serves me well. Now, here’s what we’re going to do.”
With a snap of her fingers, the big dude by the front door hands over my purse. She fishes around inside until she comes up with my phone. Handing it out to me, she says, “If you care about Faron and don’t want the same fate to be his, you’re going to call him and tell him that the deal he had with Mudd has been rescinded, and that you’ve decided to sell it to me. And then, you’ll tell him it was fun, but it’s over between you two.”
There’s a fissure of pain that slices through my heart. “No.”
She gives me a patronizing look. “Ah, sweetie. You really do love him. Well, that’s just sad, because I can guarantee you this. He won’t put up a fight. He’ll let you go faster than you can say the word diamond. Once he learns he can’t get his product from you, there’s no reason for him to keep you around.”
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 115
