by Jessie Cooke
Carmella’s breaths were ragged and he had to slide one hand down around her waist to keep her up on her feet. With the other one he was still caressing her breasts, first one and then the other, rolling his rough palms into the hard, pointed nipples. His mouth was still busy too, kissing and licking her shoulders, neck, and earlobes. Carmella’s moans and whimpers were growing louder and her grip on the cheeks of his butt grew even tighter. She sounded like she was about to have an orgasm already and he wasn’t even touching her pussy. Reluctantly letting go of her breasts, he spun her back around and his hands switched to a tight grip on that beautiful butt while their mouths met in another passionate kiss and their chests melded together. He wanted to toss her onto the bed then and fuck her, but he also wanted to savor his time with her. She was like a gourmet meal that wasn’t meant to be eaten in just a few big bites.
Eventually he felt her hand slide down between them and back into the front of his pants. This time she used one hand to push them down while the other one wrapped him back up again like a tight little glove. Her lips were back on his chest as she stroked him and he got even more excited as he felt them sliding down toward his abdomen. When her lips met the tip of his cock she slowly lowered down to her knees and he sucked in a hard breath. Carmella was obviously not one of his call girls, but the fact that she was a pro at what she was doing, and oozed class at the same time, made her even sexier. His knees were shaking as she engulfed his cock, taking it all the way in until it scraped against the back of her throat. She did that over and over, letting it slide out of her mouth and then sucking it back in, hard, while wrapping her tongue around him...until she made him want to scream. Holding back the orgasm she’d coaxed to the surface was practically painful as he pulled her back to her feet and practically carried her into the other room and tossed her down on the bed. The way she looked up at him with those smoldering, dark eyes sent another shiver ripping through his body, and none too gently, he ripped off her last piece of clothing, the tiny panties she’d soaked through, while she slid her sandals off her feet.
With one arm, he lifted her again, positioning her in the middle of the bed. He positioned his own body above hers and with his cock pressing anxiously against the lower part of her abdomen and her smoothly shaved mound, he devoured that sexy mouth again. He let his tongue explore every inch of it that he could reach and Carmella was gasping for breath by the time he finally pulled away. With a shaky hand he reached over to the bedside table for his wallet. His hands were shaking so hard that the simple act of opening the condom and rolling it onto his painfully engorged cock had become difficult. At last, however, he was sheathed in rubber, and seconds later, he was also sheathed in the tightest, wettest pussy he’d ever had the pleasure to feel in his life. They spent the next half an hour grinding against each other as he plunged in and out of her, kissed and sucked at her breasts, nibbled and licked her lips, her neck, and her earlobes, and almost went out of his mind with pleasure when her own hot lips explored every inch of his skin that she could reach while they remained joined together. Carmella was the one to reach her peak first and as the orgasm rolled through her beautiful body, she dug her long, red fingernails into his back and cried out with pleasure. It was less than a second later before Maddox let go and he could honestly say that as he came, he felt the earth move on its axis. She’d turned everything inside of him to hot liquid...a feeling he hadn’t had since the last time he made love to his wife, over five years ago.
Making love to Carmella took everything he had left inside of him and almost as soon as he had her wrapped up in his big arms, sleep pulled him under. For the first time since he’d seen that photo of Brigette that had reminded him so much of Lizzie, he slept a dreamless, warm, comfortable sleep. He may have even been smiling when he opened his eyes to the sliver of light coming in through the hotel window. That smile only lasted a few seconds when he realized that Carmella was gone. It took him another few seconds to convince himself that she’d really been there and it hadn’t all been a beautiful dream. But she’d left her scent on his pillow and the second his nose found it his body responded again. He did a quick search of the room to make sure she hadn’t left a note...her phone number, or anything…before finally heading for the shower and, for at least the next fifteen minutes, underneath the hot spray of the water, reliving the ecstasy that the dark-eyed beauty had brought him to, only just a few hours before.
5
Maddox got a later start than he’d anticipated for his day; it was almost ten before he was dressed, had eaten breakfast, and was climbing on the back of his Harley to go talk to other store owners in the area of Louis’s butcher shop. Just as he put the key in the ignition, his phone rang. Knowing there was no way Carmella had his number, but still as hopeful as an adolescent, he pulled it out and looked at the face. It wasn’t her, of course, but it was a call he’d been waiting for. He had an old army buddy named Dale who worked for the FBI, and Maddox had asked him to run a background on Blackheart’s sister’s boyfriend.
“Hey, Dale!”
“Brock!” No one called Maddox by his first name other than his mother and his little sister...and Dale. In the army they’d all gone by their last names, and Maddox had been in so long that he’d just become more comfortable with his. But Dale was old school, and once neither of them were soldiers any longer, he insisted on calling Maddox by his first name, and having Maddox call him by his. “So, I did that check for you. Looks like Billy Gruff has a few sealed juvenile records. If you give me a few days I can probably get those unsealed. As far as adult stuff goes, he’s got two misdemeanor arrests for possession, both weed, and those were both over five years ago. But there’s one more that I’m sure you’ll be interested in. It seems Billy Gruff was convicted of stalking and domestic abuse about three years ago in Houston.”
“Who was he stalking?”
“Wife,” Dale said. “He’s still legally married to her, and he only spent seven months in parish jail awaiting trial, but before his trial ever happened, he was released and the charges were dropped, and get this...it wasn’t just for stalking and breaking a restraining order. She’d been out with someone else when he caught up to her one night and he beat the poor son of a bitch nearly to death.”
“Damn, in Texas? Who did this guy pay off?”
“More like who did he snitch out. Thing is, if you had anyone else run this background, those charges and the jail time wouldn’t even show up. I was only able to access them because...well, you know we Big Brother types can pretty much find out anything.” Maddox laughed. He knew it, that’s why he always called Dale when he needed some real digging done. He was sure if Blackheart knew about Billy boy’s past that the guy wouldn’t be anywhere near one of his sisters. Dale went on to say, “It looks like about a year ago, he traded some information to the Houston DA in return for those felony charges being stricken from his public record.”
“So who did he rat on?”
“That will take me some more time. I’ll call you back when I find anything else out.”
Maddox thanked him and then wondered if he should take that information to Blackheart or wait until he heard back from Dale. While he was debating that in his head, his phone rang again.
“Mr. Maddox, this is Vincent Tucci. You were requesting a meeting with my cousin Mario?”
“Yes. I’d like to talk to him about the disappearance of Brigette Babineaux.”
“He’s got an hour free for you this morning. Can you be here in half an hour?”
“Absolutely. Where shall I meet him?”
Vincent Tucci gave Maddox an address in the Garden District. He was only about fifteen minutes away so before heading over he called Blackheart. “Hey,” Maddox said when the MC president got on the phone. “How well do you know Billy Gruff?”
Blackheart was silent for several seconds and then he said, “Was that motherfucker at my sister’s house again?”
“Yeah, and I got the impression that his and M
andy’s relationship might be an intimate one.” Blackheart said something then in French that Maddox didn’t fully understand, but it was easy to tell that it was a curse.
“I told her he was a loser and I didn’t want him hanging around the house. If he had anything to do with Brigette going missing...”
“I had a background done on him...”
“So did I. All he has on the record are two busts for weed.”
“But off the record, he was arrested and convicted of stalking and violence toward his wife and a guy she was seeing a few years back.”
“His wife?”
“Yeah, he’s still married...and those charges disappeared because he did some work for the DA in Houston.”
“That motherfucker. What kind of work?”
“I don’t know that yet. I’d rather wait to confront him until I do. Maybe that will give us the leverage we’ll need to get him to tell us what he might know about Brigette’s disappearance, if he knows anything.”
Again, Blackheart said something in French. That time it sounded not only like a curse, but like he was actually putting some kind of curse on Billy Gruff. Maddox didn’t know a lot about Voodoo, but he did know that it was prominent in the Cajun culture. Even if he believed in black magic, he got the feeling Billy might be luckier going up against a voodoo curse than he would Blackheart, especially if it turned out he’d done anything to biker’s sister. “Okay,” Blackheart said, sounding reluctant, “I’ll wait, but thanks for letting me know...I can at least have someone keep an even closer eye on the girls.”
Maddox found it funny how Blackheart referred to his grown sisters as “the girls.” Mandy had to be close to forty and the other two were in their early thirties and late twenties, respectively. But Maddox had never had sisters, or a daughter, so maybe it was just something a person couldn’t understand until they’d experienced it. “As long as you’re having them protected, maybe let Billy boy keep on believing you have no idea about his past...or the fact that he’s still married. We don’t want to spook him. I just wanted to give you a heads-up so that you could do what you had to do to make sure your other two sisters were protected.”
“Thanks,” Blackheart said, “I appreciate it. And no worries. As much as I’d like to rip the fucker’s head off, I do know when and how to be patient.”
Maddox didn’t doubt it. Someone that could lead a crew of two dozen strong-willed men the way Blackheart did would have to have more going for him than muscle. He knew from experience, after working with the Skulls in California, that MC leaders were some of the most intelligent and rational human beings he’d ever met. He also knew that when it came to protecting their “family” they could also become the most dangerous. Billy Gruff better hope he doesn’t know anything about Brigette’s disappearance, or he just might be what’s for dinner in the swamps of New Orleans, very soon.
Maddox put the address Vincent Tucci had given him into his GPS and headed over to see another man he was sure was intelligent, and probably rational as well. There wasn’t a lot of difference between the MCs he’d worked with and the Mob. The leaders both had two major goals in mind. One was making money, and the other was protecting and providing for their families. Maddox wasn’t expecting too much from his meeting with Mario. Blackheart told him that they had surpassed “acquaintances” and had actually started to become friends. Maddox doubted that anyone who called themselves a “friend” to the Jokers would be stupid enough to harm one of Blackheart’s sisters. But since Mario, like Blackheart, had his fingers on the pulse of the city it was at least worth an hour of Maddox’s time to talk to the man.
Ten minutes later, Maddox parked his bike in front of a set of elaborate wrought iron gates. There was a black box attached just underneath the head of a lion that had been etched into the iron. Maddox pushed the button on the box and announced himself. Seconds later the gates opened up, as if by magic; and leaving his bike on the street, Maddox walked inside. He’d taken about three big steps when he heard the creaking of the gates closing behind him. The mansion loomed before him, looking slightly like something from the show The Munsters out of his childhood. The stone path wound from the front gate up to the colossal stone structure. Ferns and ivy crept up the gates on either side of him and curled over the top, and in the center of it all was a delicate marble fountain where soft gurgling sounds could be heard as the water passed over the constantly turning marble ball in the center. Rose bushes lined the flower beds on either side of the black doors with brass knockers shaped like lion’s heads...and not too surprising were the two massive ceramic lions that sat sentry on either side of it.
Before Maddox reached the two steps that led up to the door, it was pulled open. The man that stood there was obviously not Mario. Maddox knew that because this man had black skin and was dressed in what looked like a tuxedo with tails. Maddox felt like he’d stepped back into time, or at least through the screen of an old movie, as the man bent slightly at the waist and said:
“Mr. Tucci is expecting you. Right this way, please.” Maddox stepped into the foyer, taking note of the huge crystal chandelier on the ceiling and the spiral staircase just to the right. To his left, built into the wall was some kind of shadow box and the shelves were lined with photographs. From there he followed the butler, as he supposed, down a long hallway where the walls were lined with art that Maddox didn’t like or understand but knew were expensive pieces. The butler turned right at the end of the hallway and stepped down into a room with plush white carpeting. Along the wall facing them was a huge white marble fireplace and to the right of them was a long black suede sectional couch with a white coffee table separating it from two plush black recliners. The man sitting in one of those recliners stood up and turned toward them when they came into the room. Maddox was sure at one glance that this man was Mario. He was only about five foot eight, but he was one of those men who seemed taller, just by his command of the room. He immediately excused the butler, whom he called “Cyrus,” and then held out his hand to Maddox and said:
“I’m Mario, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Mr. Tucci,” Maddox said, taking his hand. “Thank you for seeing me.” Maddox was surprised that the man who was so impeccably groomed was dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a polo shirt. He assumed it could simply be his preconceived notion of what a mobster looked like, but he was expecting an Italian suit. Mario’s handshake was strong and when he dropped Maddox’s hand he said:
“Mario, please. And of course. I know how upset Blackheart has been and I wish there was more I could do to help him find his sister. I will do anything I can...offer up a reward...anything.”
“I was hoping maybe you could just answer a few questions for me,” Maddox said.
“Of course, if I can. Please be seated.” Maddox took a seat in one of the chairs. He sunk down into it and found himself wondering what something like that would cost and if it would look out of place in his sparsely furnished living room in California. It was the most comfortable chair he’d ever sat in. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Maddox? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”
“No, thank you,” Maddox said, wanting to just get directly to the point. “And it’s just Maddox, no ‘Mr.’” Mario smiled at him and took a seat on the big couch. Folding his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward he said:
“Okay then, what questions do you have for me?”
“Did you know Blackheart’s sister?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve never met her. He seems to keep a tight rein on them, which makes the fact that one has gone missing even more disconcerting.”
“By tight rein you mean?”
“They don’t run in the same circles as him. He’s told me he doesn’t allow them at the club, or around his men...Blackheart and I have much in common, and that is just one more thing. My sisters were never allowed by my father to associate with...shall we say, business associates, and I have a daughter of my own th
at I’m very protective of.”
“What about Louis the butcher?” Maddox had learned from Maz that “Louis the butcher” was how most people in New Orleans knew his friend. He’d been in business in the city for over forty years and as far as Maddox could tell in the short time he’d been looking into the disappearances, everyone seemed to like Louis.
“I knew him, yes. He has the best meat in the city. My family has done business there since we moved here five years ago.”
“So your business with him is just meat?” Maddox asked.
Mario smiled. “What other kind of business would I have with a butcher?”
Maddox could think of a lot of things, but as he opened his mouth to ask another question the air was sucked completely out of his lungs. A woman had walked into the room behind Mario and as soon as Maddox saw her, it brought him to his feet...and then thanks to how hard his body was shaking, almost literally to his knees. The woman however, looked as fresh and cool as a summer breeze. She gave him a slight nod and a small smile before turning to Mario and saying, “I’m sorry to interrupt, Daddy. I just came by to use the pool.”
