by Vi Carter
It had been over an hour since Emmett had left, and I was starting to worry again, not that I had stopped, but my level of worry had increased. My nails could testify to that. I needed to do something, so I got up and went to the door. “Michael,” I called leaving the room. I found him in the kitchen, cooking like a pro. He was making a stir fry, chopping up ingredients and adding a little bit of this and a little bit of that. It smelt amazing.
“Hungry?” he asked. I took in the sight before me, a small smile played at the side of my mouth at the picture he painted. He wore a white apron over his trousers and shirt, he was a real kitchen diva.
“Yeah, Gordon Ramsay. I’ll have some.” He smiled at the name as I pulled out one of the stools that were tucked under the breakfast bar. “Any word from Emmett?” I felt anguish when Michael shook his head.
“Look, I know...” He paused. “…you two have a–thing...” I narrowed my eyes at the word ‘thing.’ “I mean, you are–you know–seeing each other,” he started to dish out the stir-fry. That was a bit of a leap. I honestly wasn’t sure what me and Emmett were, but I didn’t voice any of this. “Anyway, what I am trying to say is, Emmett isn’t going to ring to let us know he got out of the ring safely.” He pushed my plate towards me. “He ain’t that kind of guy.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I kind of got that. Still. It would be nice to know that he’s not bleeding to death somewhere.”
Michael smiled. “Rein in the love, you sound like you care.”
I smiled at him. “Is that sarcasm, Michael?” I asked while taking a fork full of his mouth-watering stir-fry.
“If it is, does it mean we’re cool?” He did his boyish grin. I bet he was a slut at school. I knew too many guys like him, Craig came to mind now.
“Yeah, I suppose I can’t stay mad at you. It’s not your fault you’re whipped.”
My words had his grin slipping. “I’m not whipped, Amber. You really don’t get it.” Oh, fuck, he was seriously offended.
“I’m sorry, I was joking.” He stuffed a fork full of food in his mouth. Well, this was awkward. The noise of both of us chewing had me cringing. I really didn’t do awkward. “Okay, Michael, explain it to me,” I said, and he snorted while stuffing more food in his mouth. I left the counter and got two glasses, pouring us each a drink of water. I slid Michael’s to him, hoping it was a peace offering. He took and drank the whole thing down before sliding the glass back to me. “Seriously?” I said taking the glass and refilling it. I sat back down but didn’t hand it to Michael straight away, I held it. “You going to talk?” I asked.
“Is my water a hostage if I don’t?” he asked, and I knew I had won.
“I might spit in it,” I smiled.
“Fine, I’ll talk.” I handed him the glass and started to eat my food.
“It’s respect for Emmett. He got us through some bad shit. He’s one of the good guys that came from a bad place,” he said off-handedly, but I was drinking every word up like it was the gospel. Just to have an insight to Emmett meant everything. I knew from watching Emmett fight that he held a lot of anger, and now hearing Michael say he came from a bad place just clarified it for me.
“His father...” Michael shook his head, “He’s a bastard. He is known as The Devil,” I tried not to smile, sometimes gang names or members were funny. Fat Freddie, Mickey Two Fingers, Hammerhead. The Devil. I, of course, didn’t voice any of this, just nodded.
“Did you have a nickname?” I asked Michael as I ran the fork around the sauce on the plate.
“The Cook,” he said, grinning again. He licked his own fork and put it down on the plate.
“Suits you. What would my nickname be?” I tried to look innocent.
“Trouble,” he said, and I snorted.
“Did Emmett have one?” Things grew strained. Michael’s eyes shifted from me, his posture stiffening. I wanted to roll my eyes. What was with all the top-secret stuff? “Seriously, it’s fine, you don’t have to say,” I said, getting up and gathering the plates.
“Hunter.” I stopped and glanced at him before stacking the dishes in the sink. “As in like a hunter?”
“Yeah,” Michael said carefully, but he was saying no. I glanced at him. His back was to me, so I gathered the glasses to get a look at him. “He didn’t hunt animals, Amber,” he said slowly.
I shrugged, I was expecting that. “Yeah, I kind of got that.”
“He hunted people,” he added.
I put the glasses in the sink. Now I didn’t want Michael to see my face. “And killed them?” I asked, but a part of me knew the answer.
“That I don’t know.” He was lying again, but I didn’t push it. I’d gotten what I’d wanted, and I didn’t know how to feel about it.
After washing up, we sat out on the couches, and I was surprised when Michael spoke of his son, William. He was three–the same age that Lily would have been. I laughed as he told me one story after another, each killing me a little, but I couldn’t ask him to stop. I hung on to each word as if he spoke about Lily in another world, living another life. One where she cleaned the toilet with my toothbrush, or where she pooed so bad that it was up to her neck. How she would poke my eyes in the morning to wake me up, or stick her finger up my nose. Little fingers that were so tiny, so pointy. I laughed as I pictured Lily dancing, wiggling her little bum, big blue eyes, looking huge on her face, as she smiled up at me. “Mommy dance with me.” I could feel the burn of tears and Michael stopped speaking.
“Are you okay?”
I swallowed my pain. “Yeah, of course. He sounds–perfect.”
Now Michael laughed. “He keeps me busy. You turn your back and they're gone,” he clicked his fingers together. “When William’s quiet, I know he’s up to no good. You never know what you might find.”
“Drink?” I asked Michael, giving myself a moment to pull my shit together. Michael gave me a look of suspicion as I got up off the couch. “What’s with the look?” I asked, making my way to the open kitchen.
“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can bail and search for Emmett?” I smiled slightly. The thought had crossed my mind, but I decided that wasn’t fair to Michael. I wasn’t sure what kind of shit I had caused him earlier, but Emmett wasn’t a slap on the wrist kind of guy, he was more like break a leg or two.
“No. It’s just an offer.” I found a nice bottle of white wine and got two wine glasses down from where they hung over the wine rack.
“I’ll pass. I can’t be drinking on the job. The boss wouldn’t like that,” Michael sat at the barstool and I sat across from him now, filling my wine glass. I took a very satisfying gulp. I’m sure you aren’t meant to gulp wine, but I needed a drink.
“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble before,” I looked up to find Michael watching me, a grin on his face.
“You’re forgiven,” he said, and I felt a little bit of guilt lift that I wasn’t aware had been festering on my shoulders. The night ended up being pretty uneventful. I checked my phone like one hundred times, nothing from Emmett. So, I drunk texted Grace instead.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
AMBER
RED. THAT’S ALL I could see, red, everywhere, long red ribbons swirling down from the ceiling. I sat up on Emmett’s bed, my eyes wide and confused, pushing the ribbons away like a curtain. The ceiling was covered with red heart-shaped balloons, the owners of the ribbons. I shuffled out of the bed in my underwear and a tank top, snippets of my drunken state last night coming back, but I didn’t care. Right now, I felt like a child in a secret world. I parted the ribbons as I moved to the corner of the room, where Emmett stood, his eyes tracking me, taking me in.
“I couldn’t ring you last night, my father never left my side,” he said, his voice making my heart rate pick up, but I moved closer, wanting to check every inch of him to make sure he was okay.
“Not even a text?” I questioned, pushing more ribbons away. I glanced up at the ceiling again, in awe of all the balloons. How had I not h
eard him, or felt him move me from my own bed, for that matter?
“No, I’m sorry.” Emmett had moved and stood in front of me. If I reached out my hand, I could touch his face.
I looked back up to the ceiling while allowing the ribbons to run through my fingers. “Is this you saying sorry?” I asked, looking back at him.
“Yes.” He hadn’t smiled yet, his eyes flickering from mine to my lips.
My stomach tightened. “You know most guys bring girls flowers and chocolates,” I found myself saying, and was rewarded with a grin that had my heart galloping.
“I’m not most guys.”
I swallowed, “No Emmett, you’re not.” A fresh cut over his cheekbone had me reaching up to him. I touched it lightly and he winced. It was a new addition to the marks on his face.
“Is this the last time?” I asked, my fingers lingering on his face.
“I doubt it.” I smiled bitterly at the sad honesty of his words.
Looking into his eyes had the blood in my veins heating up. “Thank you,” I reached up on my tippy toes and kissed him gently on the cheek. “The balloons are perfect,” I told him before landing back on my feet.
“You’re perfect.” Two words, and they made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. His kiss was immediate. My hands automatically went around his neck as his tightened around my waist. He moved us back until the softness of the bed cushioned my back, and Emmett’s body hovered over mine. He paused kissing me, I opened my eyes to find him breathing deeply just looking at me. I wanted to ask why he had stopped, but it was in his eyes. He was looking at me, really looking at me. “You're mine,” he said, but with a nod of his head, as if waiting for my acknowledgment that this was the case.
My heart beat wildly in my chest. “I’m yours,” I told him. The satisfaction that my words caused had him releasing the need that he had held back. His kiss was hungry, and I fed into it, my own need for him making my body throb. His shirt had too many buttons as I frantically tried to unbutton them, the noise of buttons being torn and hitting the floor had me pausing momentarily, as Emmett removed his now-tattered shirt. He had torn it open, as impatient as I was. Luckily, I only wore a tank top and underwear that now landed on the floor, as I pushed down Emmett’s trousers, along with his boxers, and he kicked them off. Both of us now naked, my body was raging for his.
My eyes soaked up his large erection. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, forcing him closer. “Put it in…” I demanded as he held back, this shit wasn’t funny. “…now, Emmett.” I pleaded as he kissed my neck. A bite had me yelping in pleasure, and he smiled.
“You like that?” he asked, biting my shoulder. The pain mixed with the yearning was driving me mad. I reached down like an addict ready to put him in myself when Emmett’s hand circled my wrist. My eyes met his, mine full of irritation, his swam with lust and amusement.
“You really want me?” I wasn’t one to shy away. “So why are you holding back?” I tightened my legs again around his waist, trying to pull him closer.
“Tell me again,” his eyes now lingered on my lips.
“What?” my heart raced. Did he want me to say I loved him? Did I love him?
“That you're mine.” Why did that feel a little more personal, more possessive? Like it was my soul he was after, not just my heart. He now looked at me, searching my eyes. My heart raced and my stomach flipped.
“I’m yours.” The words had barely left my mouth when he filled me, and he didn’t hold back. His thrusts were fast and hard, and I called out at each one, clinging to him, pulling him closer. He watched me carefully as he continued to thrust, each one picking up speed. “Oh...I’m going to come,” I called out with a moan. His hand tightened around my neck.
“Not yet.” It was a demand. I could see he was nearly there, he was on the edge, but I wasn’t sure if I could hold on.
“I can’t,” I said, and his hand tightened around my throat as he threw his head back. I could see the ecstasy on his face and he moaned, and I let go, jumping over the cliff with him.
***
My head rested on Emmett’s chest as I played with the ribbons, pulling balloons down slowly and then letting them go.
“I want to take you out tonight.” I looked up at Emmett; he was looking down at me a soft smile on his face. My stomach tightened. He was gorgeous.
“I’d like that,” I smiled up at him, really smiled because it sounded perfect. Emmett reached up and slowly started to pull down a balloon.
“It won’t always be like this.” He said.
I hadn’t taken my eyes off Emmett and, as he spoke, he looked from me to the string that he twined so easily through his fingers. His very gifted fingers. “Us lying in bed, surrounded by balloons?” His smile at my words had my heart rate picking up, but it disappeared too quickly.
“No, Amber. This life. A few more days, and I hope to walk away.”
I touched his face, my hand automatically going to his bruises, like I was somehow trying to remind him and myself of the damage here. “How?”
“If I told you, I would have to kill you.”
Cold spread through my veins. Was he serious? “Then don’t tell me,” I swallowed, and a small grin grew on Emmett’s face.
“I won’t. I don’t want to have to kill you. But I just might lock you in a room forever and make regular visits to you.” I laughed, and I wasn’t sure if it was relief that he wouldn’t actually kill me, or if it was his words that had me giddy.
“So, I would be your sex slave, Mr. Harrington?” I said his name as I leaned in, my lips hovering over his.
“Would you like that?” I didn’t answer, instead, I kissed him, and he kissed me back with a hunger that we both shouldn’t be feeling so soon, but we were.
***
The shower felt good as my body ached after the third time. I had never had sex that many times, even with Peter, and he was my only long-term boyfriend. Peter had been sweet, sensitive, a boy. Whereas Emmett was very much a man, one that my body wanted again just thinking about him. I was turning into a sex addict.
Large hands wrapped around my bare stomach, startling me, but I smiled, knowing the feel of Emmett’s hands already. “I thought you might have missed me,” the whispered words in my ear and the erection that prodded into my back had elected a shiver from me. I turned in his arms and my heart did a little lift. The water streamed across his head and down his face, making him more breath-taking, if that was even possible, and I found myself questioning him wanting me. I wasn’t the insecure type, but Emmett wasn’t the type of man that I typically got attention from.
“I did,” I told him as I lifted up on my tippy toes and kissed his neck. His erection brushed my stomach, pushing me over the edge, and we made love for the fourth time under the hot spray of water.
It wasn’t long after the shower that Emmett had to leave, his phone ringing several times. I honestly didn’t want him to go, but I wasn’t going to start getting whiny, and I had the meal tonight to look forward to, and all the sex afterward. I smiled as I dried myself. I needed to get my head out of the gutter; Emmett was consuming me.
EMMETT
“It’s ready,” I pressed the elevator button for the basement.
“Okay,” Kirk sounded unsure, and I didn’t like that.
“Kirk, I need to know you are ready. There is no room for errors.” I said into the phone.
“I know, Emmett. It’s not that. I’m more than ready to kill that son of a bitch.” The anger in his voice made me relax as I stepped out onto the concrete floor and clicked the beeper of my Bentley, the lights flashing twice. It sat on its own in the seven spaces reserved for me.
I slid into the car and pressed the button, causing the engine to come to life. “Good.”
“It’s just that’s a lot of people in one room, and a lot could go wrong.” He was right, of course, but I couldn’t afford to think like that.
“Jesus Emmett, one hundred percent.” I lifted my foot off the clutch and pushed down on the accelerator. Light poured into the garage as the doors lifted, letting me out onto the road.
“Good. See you tomorrow at the docks,” I said closing the phone.
I had only one more piece of the puzzle to put into place, and I hoped tomorrow night I would be a free man. Green eyes and a sexy smile made me want this more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I knew, after all these years, that I needed to end this. The list of men I planned to kill had dwindled down to one. The one man that would be the hardest to remove, and right now, I pulled up to his front gates.
“Mr. Harrington.” I was greeted by a security woman, who nodded before lifting the barrier. I drove up the drive that I had driven up a million times, only this time it felt different.
I rang the doorbell and Lidia, who was seventy, answered the door with a huge smile. “Emmett,” she held out her short and pudgy arms and I accepted her embrace.
“Lidia, you grow more gorgeous each time I see you.”
She blushed while she smiled wider. “You always charm me.” Her English wasn’t perfect, but this little Russian woman had always been my light in a very dark place.
“Son. To what do I owe this pleasure of being graced with your presence?” Lidia stiffened briefly, but I got her attention and smiled at her, my reassurance that all would be fine. She had seen one too many fights between me and my father. She took my smile with a curt nod before leaving us alone.
“I need your help,” I told him, and watched his eyes light up with glee.
“My study,” he told me. “Cigar?” My father offered, once we were seated.
