by Ashley
There were two more muffled shots, the diver’s body jerking with each one before the life left his body. The shooters didn’t say anything, using hand signals to talk to each other.
Ris watched as the two young black men stepped over the body and began to slowly move through the house, guns still drawn. Suddenly, he understood. They knew someone else was in the house; they just had to find him. Ris instantly began plotting his next move. If they were thorough, it was only a matter of time before they checked the coat closet he was camped in.
Stay calm … breathe … breathe, Ris thought as they searched the house. He was cool under pressure, even when he smelled death in the air. He heard footsteps on the second level of the house and thought about making a dash for the door, but he quickly dismissed that notion. They might have people waiting outside. No, he would stay where he was and prepare for the worst. He wanted to make a phone call to his team, but the hotel where they were waiting for him was across town. They wouldn’t get here in time.
Fuck … think … think, he thought.
As Ris listened closely, he noticed the house had grown silent once again. It seemed as if the two other intruders had stopped moving completely. Ris could hear himself breathing as he slowly raised his gun up and gripped it tightly once more, slowly moving his finger to the trigger. His killer’s intuition told him something was about to go down.
Suddenly, the closet door swung open. Before he knew it, he was pointing a gun in a man’s face while one was pointed right back at him. Ris and the other man stood there, guns pointed, fingers on the triggers, staring into a stranger’s eyes.
Ris slowly stepped out of the closet, backing the other gunman up, never taking his eyes off the man’s. They slowly began to circle one another, neither of them saying a word. They just breathed heavily, almost in unison, both recognizing the stone-cold killer in front of him. A wolf always recognized a wolf.
The sound of the other man approaching distracted Ris, making him turn and break the staring contest that he was having. The man that was approaching him from the rear was Sire. Sire had his gun drawn and pointed at Ris’s head. Wasan, who was the man standing in front of Ris, saw the opportunity and took it. Wasan squeezed the trigger, but it jammed, making a clicking noise. This prompted Ris to let off his gun as Wasan dove into the next room for cover. Ris sent a bullet straight through Wasan’s forehead, killing him instantly. Sire fired back as Ris tumbled across the floor. Everyone had silencers so this was the quietest gunfight in history. Muffled thuds and bullets whizzing through the air created a beautiful and deadly symphony. Sire shot wildly as he tried to take cover from the bullets shooting from Ris’s gun. Sire shot until his clip was empty and watched Ris sprint out the back door, leaving a bloody trail. Sire knew he had hit Ris but didn’t know exactly where.
After a few seconds of calm, he looked across the room and saw his brother bleeding out from his head as his eyes stared into space. Sire hurried over to him and cradled him in his arms as the brain matter leaked from his skull. Sire began to cry, rocking his brother like a baby. He ran his hand over Wasan’s eyes, closing them. Whoever had killed his brother, he vowed he would pay them back tenfold.
CHAPTER 12
“Thank you all for your time this morning. This company has taken a devastating blow. Our founding CEO and his wife, two beautiful people who I was very fortunate to love, parents who chose me, have left us behind. It’s an honor to be left this legacy. This is a birthright and I’m humbled to be chosen to steer this ship into the future. It is with the partnership of my brother August that I take over as CEO. Together, August and I hope to be half as successful as Senior was. We have big shoes to fill and starting out, we have some major challenges to overcome. We need to rectify this rig situation and remedy this strike. I need all ideas on the table,” West said. He looked around the table at the board Senior had chosen. Most were twice his age and had been with the company for decades. August sat at the far end of the table and Sutton, the only new addition to the group, sat across from him.
“Both stories in the scope of the media at the same time is disastrous. We need to rely on temporary workers, offer them full-time positions but at a lower pay rate than what we’re paying our salaried employees. Once they see that someone else is doing their jobs, the salaried workers will be less likely to stick to this imposed strike.”
West ran a hand down his goatee, nodding as he bounced the suggestion around in his mind. “Senior planned to be agreeable with the workers on strike,” West reminded.
“That was before this rig fiasco. We can’t afford to accommodate them now.” Tim Rogers was the chief operating officer of the company. West respected him greatly, but he also knew Rogers was an old-school Texan with little empathy for the working class.
“We can’t afford not to accommodate them,” West objected. “They’ve already been out of billable hours too long. We want to be the company that takes care of our lowest-tier workers, not the one that takes advantage of them. The oil spill doesn’t change that. So how do we please the workers and get them back to work to fix this spill? Not only are we losing money, but we’re leaking oil in the middle of the ocean. The environmentalists are all over this.”
The table was silent, and West knew it was because they didn’t have a solution. In all their years of operation, they had never faced anything this detrimental.
“So, you all are sitting here telling me that you make millions of dollars per year in salary and benefits and bonuses, but you have nothing to say to save this company?”
Again, silence.
“Get out,” West said. “Go to your plush offices and do your jobs for once. Actually earn those company cars you’re driving around in, then report back to me with solutions for an afternoon meeting. Tisa, let’s get it on my schedule at three P.M.” His assistant nodded in obedience and exited the room as the men and women of the board stood from the table. They didn’t dare speak as West’s disappointment chased them from the room.
Sutton gathered her things and as she rounded the table, he discreetly touched her hand, catching her fingertips, preventing her from passing him.
“Stay back for a minute?” he asked in a low tone.
She paused, pulling her hand away quickly because no way should his touch cause her heart to race. She took a seat at the corner nearest him. August grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.
“August…” West knew change wasn’t easy. It would take time for them to get used to this dynamic. West was the smart choice, but he wasn’t the emotional one. Senior had operated on logic alone when selecting his inheritor. He had left all three of his sons with wealth, but he had handed down the power to West. There was tension in the air.
“The thing about a birthright, you got to be born into it, bro,” August said. “I’m out of here. Beamer’s expecting me.”
“I can’t help that Senior entrusted me with this. I want us to do this together. As brothers,” West said.
“Sure, whatever you say.” August walked out, slamming the door behind him. West finessed his temple, massaging the stress away. He hadn’t asked for this, but it had been placed in his lap. He would have to find a balance with August. Blood didn’t make them brothers, bond did, and he didn’t want their relationship to suffer behind business.
He took his seat and turned his chair toward Sutton. He leaned over, elbows meeting knees as he rubbed the top of his head.
“That was rough,” Sutton said.
“Extremely,” West answered, lifting his head to focus on her. “I wanted to apologize about the other night. I didn’t mean to run out on you like that. I appreciated your time.”
“It’s okay. I understand. It’s the cost of being the boss, right?” she asked. West had so much on his shoulders. He had lost so much over the past week and the lack of answers about who was behind it scratched a nerve. He had no idea that the root to his problem was sitting in front of him.
“Expensive as fuck,” he mumbled. “What do
you think?”
“Abouuutt?” Sutton sang.
“I would like to hear your take in repairing things. Your firm is known for fixing the impossible. Where’s your head at?” West asked.
Sutton crossed her legs and tapped the arm of the chair with her stiletto nails. “First thing you need to do is fire everybody who just left this room,” she suggested.
West’s brows hiked and he sat up. “That’s a bold move. These people have worked for Senior for as long as I can remember.”
“Exactly. Their alliance is with the old king, not you. Transition of power needs a transition of leadership. They’re old and rich and comfortable and too fucking white,” Sutton said.
West found the laughter in that.
“I’m serious. You need some new blood in here. Some young, hungry, educated execs that can help you clean up this mess. I have some suggestions to help clean up the environmental issues as well. You need to back an organization, pour money into it, and then get out and help clean it up. The media needs to see you hands-on with this. A donation to an animal charity of course, a public statement about the commitment to cleaning up the biohazard caused by the spill. People need to see that you are going to help reverse the damage for years to come.”
West nodded, impressed.
“I had a whole presentation. You got the ghetto version,” Sutton said, smiling. “I’m usually way more professional.”
“I’m not mad at this version,” he replied. “It’s good to see a more relaxed side of you. It suits you.”
Sutton scoffed and smiled a bit. West sensed her discomfort, so he changed focus. “I do think you’re right, though. Your approach may work. Take a walk with me?”
“Sure,” Sutton said, as she pushed back out of her chair.
They strolled out of the office. The headquarters sat on one hundred acres of land. It seemed endless as they stepped out into the humid Houston heat.
“Where are you taking me?” Sutton asked.
“This place sits on protected wetlands. I come out here to think when the office walls start closing in on me,” West said.
The company’s land was landscaped beautifully; but the farther they walked away from the buildings, the wilder the land became. Sutton hesitated when West stepped off the paved path and into the tall grass.
“So, another thing to know about me. I’m kind of afraid of bugs,” she said.
The smirk that crossed his face embarrassed her.
“Oh, that’s funny?” she asked. “Fucking Texas boy,” she scoffed.
Before Sutton knew it, he scooped her in his arms like she was a new bride. She yelped and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Her hand to the side of his face forced his stare on her.
“You’re too tough to have such an irrational fear,” West said.
She turned her head away from him, smudging her lipstick as she folded her lips to stop herself from laughing.
“I got bit when I was a kid,” she admitted.
“From what I remember you like a little bite,” West said.
“Don’t you get fresh!” Sutton said, laughing aloud as she hid her face in his broad chest. It wasn’t exactly professional, and he knew she was timid about blurring lines, but he held no qualms. She trembled and he knew visions of their one night played in her mind. He had eaten her pussy like he was starved, and he hadn’t needed any instructions on how to heat the plate. When he was done, he had kissed her inner thighs, biting them softly, causing her back to arch off the bed. He was magnificent. A species of lover that was going extinct and Sutton had been lucky to experience him.
“You will not bring up that night again.” Sutton blushed as she spoke.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied.
She looked up at him. “Good ol’ Southern boy, huh?”
“Oh, you got jokes,” West asked, snickering.
“No jokes. I’m very pleased about that part,” she said, beaming.
He stopped walking and placed her on her feet. A small wooden rowboat sat on the edge of a lake.
“West, I can’t swim,” Sutton said, a tremor of concern sneaking up on her as she watched him climb into the boat. “If this boat flips—”
He held out his hand to her. “Trust me, Ms. LaCroix.”
She stepped out of her heels and bent down to pick them up before pushing out an anxious breath. She grabbed his hand to climb aboard.
She sat at one end of the boat, facing him, and he sat at the other. He removed his expensive jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and then handed the jacket to her before taking the oars in his hands. They were silent as he worked overtime, carrying them across the water. He could see her anxiety about being out on the lake, but the farther he took her through the channel and out into the bountiful water reserve, the more at ease she became.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she said, dipping her hand in the water. “I can’t believe you own all this.”
“I kind of can’t believe it myself,” West admitted.
“The crown has been passed to you. This is your kingdom,” Sutton said. “I get why you come out here to think. It’s peaceful.”
West rowed until they were on a different side of the property and when Sutton got on dry land she gasped in wonder. A field of colorful trees stretched as far as she could see. Their purple and white blooms painted the tall green fields.
“Wow,” she whispered.
West reached for one of the purple flowers, plucking it from the tree and holding it up for her. She took it, smiling, before lifting it to her nose. It smelled so good.
“You live to give me a hard time, Sutton LaCroix. Can’t give a woman like you a bouquet. You got to bring her the field so she can see you do the work yourself.” He walked over to the grass and picked up a wicker basket. Sutton strapped her heels on and climbed from the rowboat. Her heels sank into the grass.
“Might want to keep those off.” West smirked. “The grass out here soaks up the water from the lake. It’s a bit beneath sea level. Good for the trees, not so good for the Louboutins. I’ll buy you more.”
“I wear thousand-dollar shoes. You don’t want to buy my shoes,” she snickered.
“I want to buy you everything,” West stated.
“I can buy myself everything, West. I’m not that girl,” she added.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you want to,” West stated. “You deserve to slide a nigga’s card when you feel like it, Sutton. Let a man do what he supposed to do. It’s a lot more fun.”
Sutton smiled, teeth breaking through stubborn lips as she looked off. “You make it really hard to stay professional,” she said.
A sexy chuckle filled the air. “You want to show me which ones you like?” he asked. He handed the basket to Sutton and she removed her shoes before following him.
“I want all of them. A flower from every single tree,” she said, taken aback by the natural beauty of it all.
“Let’s get started then,” he said. He bent down to grab an extra basket. “We’ll need more than one.”
“Is this what you do? To impress women? Because it is definitely kind of hard to resist,” Sutton said as they strolled.
“Nah, it ain’t like that. I don’t think anyone else besides me and August have even ventured out this far on the property. When our mom was sick, we used to come out here to pick flowers for her. Some of the days got real bad. She said they made her feel better.”
“They’re beautiful, I see why,” Sutton said. West pulled a flower from the tree and placed it in her basket.
“Wait! Look at that one!” Sutton pointed to it.
West looked up and plucked it from the tree, placing it in Sutton’s basket.
“I’ve had some bad days lately. Lost a lot of people. Right now, I don’t feel it too much. It’s the first moment in the past two weeks that my mind hasn’t been clouded by death.”
“It’s the flowers,” Sutton said. “It’s hard to be down around something so beautiful.
”
Sutton reached for a flower, standing on her tiptoes. West bent down a bit, gripping her under her arms and lifting her so she could reach her target. He lowered her but didn’t place her on her feet. Instead, he held her in front of his face so they were level, eye to eye.
“We should go back,” he said.
“We should,” she agreed. “We really should.”
He put her feet on the ground, but she didn’t move.
“This is literally the only place I’ll ever let you kiss me again, so you might as well shoot your shot,” Sutton said.
“You play real tough, Sutton LaCroix,” he said.
“Only I’m not playing,” she replied. West took a knee in front of her. “What are you doing?”
He rolled her dress up her thighs and hooked her knee over his shoulder. “Shooting my shot.”
Sutton quivered as he slid her panties aside and kissed her lips. Sutton sucked in air. She wanted to protest, but she had given permission. All she could do was let him lead.
Her taste was delicate, feminine, sweet, and he sucked on her like his favorite piece of candy.
“West, ssssss.” Sutton gritted her teeth as he devoured her slowly. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“You can go back to professional when I’m done,” he groaned.
He loved to weaken this woman. He had never encountered anyone like her. Women were easy. Sutton was hard. Sutton was a challenge. When she gave into him, it made him feel kingly. Submission from a queen was an honor.
West pulled an orgasm out of her effortlessly and then rolled her dress back down. He came up her body, subtly biting her belly, then her nipple through the fabric, before coming up and landing in the crease of her neck. Sutton didn’t even protest. Her head fell to the side and a moan escaped her. It was swallowed up as he made his way to her lips. He planted a single kiss to her mouth and then pulled back.
“You can’t keep doing this to me.” Her voice was weakened. Defeated. Like she was disappointed in herself for letting this happen again.
“Apologies,” he said, his smile lifting in one direction. A smirk.
