by V Vee
My eyes widened when I felt Andrew stiffen up behind me. I shook my head, hoping to diffuse the situation. Usually I didn’t interfere when my man wanted to bust someone’s ass, or hell, even put a bullet in some arrogant bastard who was trying to push up on me, but…
This was supposed to be date night, dammit. We would only get a few more of these!
“Drew,” I started.
“Get out of the way, Kyra,” Andrew’s voice was low.
“Kyra? Hmm… what a beautiful name, for a very beautiful and I’m sure very tasty woman,” Eirik said, giving me a grin.
“What the fuck did you just say to my wife you dumb fuck?” Andrew growled.
Before I could blink, Ronan, Dermot, and Bailey stepped up to stand behind Andrew. Ludwig took my arm and pulled me over to stand next to him against the wall. I scowled at him. Had he just moved me out of the way like I was some weak, damsel in distress. I opened my mouth to ream his ass a new one when three new guys, all of whom had similar builds, the same bright blond hair, some even a white blond, went to stand behind Eirik.
Holy. Shit. What the fuck had we just stepped into?
“Kyra, I didn’t pull you out of the way because I don’t think you can handle it. I did it because I recognized that first guy. Eirik? He’s second in command to The Viking,” Ludwig told me.
My eyes widened as I stared at Ludwig, before I returned my gaze to my husband, who was pulling off his jacket, as well as Bailey, Ronan, and Dermot.
“That’s Torstein Krakisson, Øystæin Waltheofsson, and Starolf Glumsson,” Ludwig informed me, and I felt as if I weren’t going to be able to breathe. Everyone knew that the fucking “Norse Gods” moved in a realm none of us did. While we ran the underground, those motherfuckers pulled off their criminal empire right in the fucking open. They controlled the Illuminati. Chose presidents. Ran pharmacy companies. Put kings and queens in power then ran their kingdoms behind the scenes. They’d created the CIA.
They were on another level, and none of us fucked with them. The fact that Nia not only knew Sigvaldi but was close enough to him to seek him out and ask for help had stunned all of us when we found out. But while we’d been impressed with my young sister-in-law’s connection, none of us wanted to share in it.
The “Norse Gods” were fucking berserk. Worse than Andrew, Clan McCarthy, my crew, and I could ever be.
And my husband was getting ready to fight them?
“Drew!” I hissed his name. “They’re…”
“I know who the fuck these little pricks are supposed to be,” Andrew cut me off. “But you know what? I don’t give two shits. Because this city, this state belongs to you and me. But even more than that you belong to me. I’ll be damned if some limp dicked motherfucker is going to come and push up on my woman while I’m standing right here.” He shook his head. “I don’t care what group he’s with. I’m going to enjoy kicking this fuckwad’s ass.”
Eirik laughed and so did his friends. “I shall enjoy watching you try, Irish scum.”
And with those words, Eirik had essentially tossed a lit match directly into a pile of dry kindling.
Andrew’s fist colliding with Eirik’s face didn’t surprise me. Neither did Eirik’s retaliating swing. When the restaurant staff all went to hide in the back, dragging the other patrons with them I knew this was going to get worse before it got better. As all eight of the men launched themselves at each other, fists flying, curses splitting the air, the sound of flesh slamming into flesh, blood splattering the walls and the floors around and beneath us, I believe I felt true fear for the first time in a long while.
A part of me, a very big part, the part I’d been listening to since my grandmother first started teaching me about what it meant to be the Boss of Baltimore, wanted to jump into the fray. To pull out my blade and slice up a few idiots. But another part, smaller and yet, much more powerful, reminded me that I was pregnant, and that Andrew would not be happy if I got hurt trying to help him.
Then again… I wasn’t the Boss for nothing.
I shoved at Ludwig’s chest, grabbed the gun he always kept hidden behind his back, from the back waistband of his slacks, and took fire, squeezing the trigger and getting off a shot all before he could stop me. The fighting stopped immediately. Every man looked around to check and see who had been hit, when none of them were bleeding they collectively turned to me. I nodded my head at the painting on the wall behind where they had been fighting, and there, on the wall I’d put a bullet right in the middle of the forehead of the historical figure captured in painting form.
“I don’t miss,” I told them. “So consider that your warning shot.”
I smiled broadly as I realized that it wasn’t so much that I’d stopped killing because I was playing the part of “wife” and “mother,” roles that were perfect for some women, but because I’d learned what it felt to have a child, and to take away some other mother’s child without giving said child a chance to make things right had been affecting me. So while I was still bloodthirsty, I was actually compassionate now as well.
Son of a bitch.
I jerked my head at the door. “Tell Sigvaldi we bear neither him, nor the Norse Gods any ill will,” I said. Eirik nodded, his face bloodied and bruised, way more than Andrew’s and he looked as if he were limping just a bit as he and his friends headed for the doors.
“Oh, and Eirik?” I called out. He stopped and turned to look at me, the door to the restaurant open behind him as he stood in the doorway. I pointed at Andrew. “That man right there? He and my kids are my everything. If you ever try to insinuate that I would cheat on him, or flirt with anyone but him, I will stomp you to death. Got it?” I waited for him to respond, and when his eyes widened, and he eventually nodded, I gave him a smile, lifted the gun in my hand and shot him in the stomach.
I walked closer to him, my steps measured, Ludwig, Andrew, Ronan, and Bailey stepping toward me carefully. Dermot already knew I was crazy, so he left well enough alone.
“You won’t die,” I informed Eirik. “But you’ll wish you had. And if someone asks you who did this to you?” I leaned down at his bleeding form and smirked. “You let them know you took your shot with the Boss of Baltimore, and when you did, you lost. Kyra Barham-McCarthy…
“Ask about me.”
Chapter Twelve
Michele- The Heat
I waited for him outside of the bar, much the way I’d waited for him all those many years ago, just before he’d headed to Kyra’s. Only this time my directive was different. I wasn’t there to warn him away from my best friend. This time I was supposed to take care of all loose ends.
And Shay Leburn was definitely a loose end.
The minute he started walking across the parking lot headed for his car, I was out of my own, silent as a ghost.
My silencer and my aim as hot as a laser.
As soon as he opened the door I stepped out of the shadows. His eyes widened for a moment, before they narrowed.
“What are you doing here? Tell that bitch of woman you call a best friend that I have nothing further to say to her, and if she, that thug of a husband of hers, or any of you come back to my bar, I’m going to kill all of you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to project an air of bravado.
I snorted and took aim at the top of his nose, right in between his eyes, knowing I would be able to complete my orders with that one shot. No matter how close or how far away I was, this hit would never be traced back to me.
Which was best for all around.
“Kyra didn’t send me, someone else did,” I said. I peeled off the prosthetic skin I’d been given to cover up my tattoo and showed it to Shay. I watched as his eyes widened at the sight of a circle going through the three interconnected loops of the triquetra.
“Shuì dé hǎo xiōngdì,” I declared in Mandarin, before squeezing the trigger, the pop the only warning Shay received. And when he hit the ground, I turned and walked away, replacing the skin over my ta
ttoo. Finding prosthetic skin that matched my skin tone hadn’t been easy, there was no way I was going to lose it.
I smiled as I headed back to my truck. Not because of a job well done, but because I had a little girl at home waiting for me to put to bed, and a man waiting for me to do the same for him.
My debt was almost repaid and then I could sleep peacefully, without the guilt of knowing that I was lying to everyone around me.
Chapter Thirteen
Andrew- The Irishman
I’d been angry for the first hour after my failed date night with Kyra. It seemed like I was always getting my ass saved by my woman. I was so pissed off at that shit, I’d gone to my office to drink.
Which is where she found me.
“Still sulking?” She asked.
“I’m not sulking,” I said.
“Yes you are, Andrew.” She rolled her eyes. “Suck in your bottom lip, grab your balls, and grow the fuck up. Men and women have always been equal. Especially when it comes to the shit that we do. You don’t have a monopoly on being the badass.”
She shook her head. “Besides… I needed this.”
I looked at her, then nodded. My baby had been struggling during this pregnancy. Much more than she had with the twins. And through it all she’d been amazing. Never slacking. Always doing double duty.
In short, my woman was fucking amazing.
I pulled her close, capturing my beautiful goddess in my arms and forcing her to meet my gaze. I met her lips with a fierce kiss and swept her into my arms. Kyra whimpered as I carried her directly into our bedroom. I rested her ass onto the comforter, shoving away all of the bullshit that we’d left on top of it upon returning home.
Kyra leaned up on her elbows, crashing her lips into mine. “Don’t take your time tonight, Irishman.”
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” I responded, nipping at her bottom lip.
She teased at the collar of her dress, tugging it down, tempting me with the dark swell of her perfect breasts. “What was that?”
I didn’t waste time, I ripped at her shirt. The material tore.
“Andrew!” She gasped. “That was a thousand-dollar dress!”
The bra was probably expensive as fuck too. It didn’t take much to tug off, not when her beautiful tits spilled from the lacey cups. I dove at the skirt of the green dress, but Kyra quickly unzipped the back of the dress before I destroyed it too much. The material tickled over her legs before I cast it off. All that remained was a diamond thong, white lace at the pelvis, and a string of diamonds down the center, contrasting against the lovely black of her skin.
“This for me?” I snapped the band with my thumbs.
“Maybe.”
“That’s my girl.”
I pushed her down. Her tits bounced from the crash against the mattress. Those dark nipples tightened into little nubs. The peek of her bare slit teased behind the bright white of the underwear. My cock swelled, aching in my pants.
The thong slipped over her ankles. Enough was enough. I knelt at the side of the bed and hauled her hips to the edge of the mattress. My cock pulsed, hard and searing hot. I stared at this amazing woman offered before me. Soft curves. A secret, bare slit, slickening with each frantic heartbeat. The dark petals spread for me, inviting me closer to that sacred heat.
A lick. A nibble. A bite. I’d never wanted a woman more than I did at this moment. I’d fucked Kyra. I’d taken her, jetted my seed inside her, many times, and created a life with her. Not once, but twice, we’d come together to create a new person, or persons. The perfect blend of her and me.
I tugged her close, teasing her quivering folds with a gentle lick along her slit. My kiss teased the inside of her thighs, close enough to her perfection to earn a soft coo. She rested on the comforter and gripped the blankets, squeezing hard. I knew the damage those manicured nails could do to a man’s back. If I was lucky, I’d earn another set of stripes from her. Anything to make this woman groan, buck, arch, and cream on my tongue. She tasted of sugar, slipped like silk on my lips, and trembled with excitement. I sunk deeper into her petals, nibbling her clit with a gentle rub of my tongue and hum from my lips. The vibration earned a gasp. Taking her clit into my mouth and suckling on that sexy little nub wound her tight.
Kyra arched against the bed, her head thrashing side to side as I wove circles of intensity over that sensitive spot.
“Bet you’re glad you’re married me, hug?” My words mumbled against her wet lips.
Kyra groaned. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
I smirked. “I can stop if you like.”
“The fuck you will.”
“What would you rather I do?”
Kyra bucked her hips. “This.”
“What’s this?” I gave a lick. “A little taste?” I sucked her clit. “Something rougher?”
Kyra gritted her teeth as I lapped at her once more, thick strokes of my tongue. “That. Do that.”
“Do what?”
“What you’re doing…” Her body clenched, shaking and hard. “Damn it, Drew…”
“Tell me.”
“Whatever you want…” Her words turned breathless. “Just take me. Do what you want. Anywhere you touch…anywhere you kiss…it’s all…”
“Good?”
“I’ve never felt anything like it before. You are what I need. You’re always what I need. You saved me long before I started saving you.”
That was all the encouragement I required. All the motivation. All the honesty. Because she was all I needed too. The only woman who’d ever driven me mad with lust. The only woman who could match me, bullet for bullet. Body for body.
Orgasm for orgasm.
I chose well the moment I decided she belonged to me.
No one had ever tasted this sweet. No woman had ever hardened me to the point of pain. No pussy had ever delighted me with such intoxicating secrets. I needed her. I wanted her. I loved her.
Her body quivered against my tongue. Her hips shook. Once. Twice. A heat washed over her pussy, and she cried out in utter delight as a rush of cream teased her petals. I sucked hard against her clit as she bucked, the orgasm tensing her beautiful slit. Her heat sucked in my tongue and demanded something harder, bigger, and greater than a soft caress. Kyra gasped on the bed, breasts heaving, eyes heavy. I pulled away from her, but she grabbed my hand, tugging me close.
“You want something else?” I asked.
Kyra guided me to the bed, but she pushed me down so she could carefully edge between my legs. Her hair fell forward, brushing her shoulders with the dark brown curls of her new weave. Her eyes narrowed on me, but I didn’t know if that smile was playful or a warning. It was worth dying to find out.
Her words teased me with a lust I’d never experienced. “Hope you got enough fuel in the tank, Irishman. The Boss wants a ride.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kyra- K-Love
Hello Little Sister,
I know you must be growing concerned because you haven’t heard from me in a while, but no need to worry, I’m back in town again. Just so that you and I can eventually meet one day. Oh, no, no, no, not for some sweet reunion. But, because when I asked for this job, for this assignment, I had every intention of putting a bullet through your skull.
The same way you did to the dear old former mayor’s painting.
Brilliantly done, little sister. I’m almost jealous.
Although, I don’t think you should celebrate too much, your time to meet your maker is coming soon. Very, very soon.
Talk to you soon, Kyra.
Sincerely,
Your Sister Charlene
PS Don’t you wonder how in the world you just happened to go to the same bar as the Norse Gods? What a coincidence, huh? Or was it?
I stared at the letter on my desk and clenched my teeth I was sure I cracked my crown.
Five.
Five mother fucking letters. All left on the doorstep of my home, always followed by another
body. Jenafer’s body had been the first. Her mother’s body had been the second. I’d been so scared that one of her younger siblings would be next, but there had been a letter left instead.
Every week without fail, we received either a letter or a package, which would contain the body of someone we knew.
The fifth body had been my Uncle Oscar. Every older person in my family had been killed or died tragically. There was only me and my cousins, most of whom had been told horrible things about me by their parents. Andrew and I had done what we could to help, but only a few accepted my help. Galvin and Olivia, as well as Kynan had used every resource they had in order to try and find out how Charlene was sending the letters and the packages without being spotted.
Andrew had killed four guards who had allowed two packages and two letters into our home. No one was safe from his rage, no one except me and the kids. Not even Nia, his precious baby sister was safe.
Tensions were so high within the crew and Clan McCarthy that I was pretty sure someone was going to end up saying something or doing something they would regret. And even worse, everyone was walking on eggshells around Andrew.
I hated it. Absolutely hated it.
Which was why I’d decided to forego our usual channels and place a call to someone with a little more clout, more power, and more resources than those we’d been using up to that point.
Congresswoman Trevia Patrice Williams. A petite, middle-aged dark brown skinned woman, she’d voted extremely liberal during the last session of the House.
Just as we’d paid her to do.
When she arrived, disguise affixed perfectly to her hair—a new, long, blonde haired wig—a large pair of sunglasses on her face, a fake mole on her cheek, and wearing a pink Victoria’s Secret Pink™ hoodie, and a pair of jeans, I had to look away. The Congresswoman looked a bit like a middle-aged woman who was trying to reclaim her youth but dressing like a teenager. It was so unlike her that it was laughable.
