I had a racetrack to build.
Books by Stacey
Trailer Trash With a Girl’s Name
Trailer Trash With a Girl’s Name: Father Figures
About Stacey
Stacey Roberts was born in a smoky hospital in New Jersey in 1971. Nine years later, he and his family moved into a Winnebago and traveled across the country. After several near-death experiences, they settled first in California and then Florida.
He attended college at Florida State University and University of Miami, where he received his B.A. in English Literature instead of Finance, which was a great disappointment to his mother.
He went on to get a Master’s degree in Early Modern European History at the University of Cincinnati, to which his mother said, “SSSStace. History? What do you need that for? What is wrong with you?”
His mother was right. He didn’t need it for anything, except to make arcane references about the Roman Empire or Henry VIII that no one else understands.
He founded a computer consulting firm outside of Cincinnati, Ohio in 1994, and resides in Northern Kentucky with his wife and their two Golden Doodles.
Get In Touch
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/staceyrobertsauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/sroberts1971
Caesar’s Gift
by LeTeisha Newton
The whole deal with fucking Christmas is it’s annoying as fuck when you’ve never bought a damn gift in your life. Okay, that’s not completely true. I’ve just been out of practice. I’ve spent most of my life destroying everything in my path on my way to the top and enjoying the fruits of my labor as I crushed my enemies into the ground. Hell, I never thought I’d deserve more than death served up painfully bloody in a dark alley smelling of shit and bullets.
That’s what happens when you’re the bogeyman.
Ashlyn changed everything though. She blew into my fucking life to pay a debt—a thing for me to break, control, and own—but she fought me every step of the fucking way until I couldn’t get enough of her. I caressed the tattoo on the back of my neck in large script. Precious Ashlyn. Here I was, the most dangerous man in Florida, in front of a damn department store looking for the perfect gift. Last time I was in a store, I played pretty damn nicely with my Ashlyn for the sales rep to watch. Score!
“Hey, C?”
I turned to Collin and lifted one brow. “Yeah?”
“Scared to go in?”
“I’ll gut you in your sleep, you know that?”
“Only if I call you by your real name, and I saw what you did to the last guy. It was my job to clean up the mess.”
Yeah, that wasn’t pretty, but the motherfucker called my wife a bitch while she had my son in her arms. He deserved every bit of crazy I inflicted on him in short order. No one, absolutely no one, disrespected what was mine and what I’d come to love. Tyler was only four months old and didn’t understand the words, but he still didn’t need that sort of shit in his life. My son would be a monster when the time came, but until then, he’d get the best start in life I never got. To be fair to the redhead who watched my wife and son’s backs, he’d beaten his ass to a pulp by the time I arrived and was about to do some real dirty work. Ashlyn seemed to bring out the best in all of us.
“Shut up. I just don’t …” Uh, no. I’m not going to admit—
“Know what to get the most amazing woman in your world? Figured.”
I clenched my fists. “Keep joking.”
Collin shrugged. The big bastard had earned his place in my crew, especially after betrayal from others and more. Ashlyn personally expected him to protect her and my son when they were out; it was how I knew about Bitch Boy and his potty mouth. It was also why I’d brought Collin with me to shop. He knew Ashlyn and Tyler pretty fucking well, better than I sometimes thought I could. Being a mafia don and running shots was a dangerous business that kept me on the move. I didn’t get to spend as much time at home as I’d like. And Collin, well, he’d done something very special for Ashlyn when her world was so fucking screwed and I was out of the picture. The shit he did had bonded the two closer than blood. Collin became the brother she should have had instead of that piece of shit I put into the ground for her.
Love—it’s a wonderous thing.
“Well,” Collin started, rubbing his jaw, “you got rid of her demons, tore Lorcan a new one, got her an education, put her on your skin, gave her a baby, and she’s the most feared woman on the East Coast.”
I groaned. Fucking shopping was boring. This wasn’t my sort of fucking story. “Maybe I should just kill someone for her again. She have any other dark skeletons in the closet I somehow missed?”
“C, no one who’s ever hurt her is breathing. You made sure of that. And killing someone is not a Christmas gift. It’s a way to say ‘I love you’ on random days.”
I snorted. “You sure about that? I mean, it could be cool for me to combine it with some sappy Bloody Valentine promise and all that, knock out two holidays in one.”
Collin burst out laughing, but I was serious. “No, C. Try again.”
“That’s why I’ve got you here.”
“And the minute I come up with something better than you, you’re going to want me in a pine box for knowing her too well. I’m better off just pointing you in the right direction.”
He was … right. I got a bit crazy when it came to my wife and son. I couldn’t help it. They’d saved me in ways I never thought possible, and my dark little heart beat just for them. I sighed. Okay, I could do this. But getting something in a department store wasn’t going to cut it. Ashlyn could buy anything she ever wanted, and most of the time I was constantly getting her jewelry from the best designers, clothing from the runway, and even handmade toys for Tyler. More shit wasn’t the way I should go about any of this.
“Okay, change of plans. Gotta think outside the box.”
Collin nodded. “I think that’d be best.”
I looked at him. I knew Collin’s history, the hell he’d gone through before I pulled him out of fighting in underground rings. He’d stood as champion above lesser men, rage boiling through his veins until he couldn’t think straight. All that mattered was the next fight, the next opportunity to fuck shit up because he hadn’t been able to fight when it really mattered—when he’d needed to protect himself.
“Touchy subject coming, but you know I don’t care.”
He sighed before motioning to the car. “Can we at least get out of the open for this discussion?”
I nodded, and he escorted me to the sweet-ass Bentley Ashlyn got me for my birthday last year. She’d gone back to school to earn her degree and was probably the highest paid private accountant ever. She worked exclusively for my organization and kept the numbers clean. I slid along the buttery-smooth seats and waited for Collin to close my door before moving behind the driver seat. He pulled off in silence, heading home.
“All right, C. Get it done.” His quiet voice filled the cabin, and part of me felt like hell for enjoying the chance to pick at scabs.
Ashlyn had changed a lot about me, but the innate darkness swirling around in my belly would never go away. All the ones around me knew better than to think differently.
“What did you want most after getting away from your mother?”
A muscle worked in Collin’s jaw, and I could make out his stern expression from his profile. Fire-red hair left to grow long and restrained into a bun may have looked feminine on other men, but for Collin it added to some deadly cloud around him. It dared a fucker to say some shit just so he could pound faces.
“Freedom,” he finally answered.
“Not revenge?”
He shook his head, fingers clenching the steering wheel. “What’s revenge when you don’t know if you’ll even make your own decisions? That y
our life isn’t yours? Revenge comes with freedom and power. I knew how to develop power, it would just take time. But freedom? That shit was priceless.”
Collin’s mother had been the PTA mom, complete with a football quarterback for a son who was going somewhere. She was perfectly coifed at all times, presentable, and a community activist working with battered children and wives. However, behind the scenes, she pimped out her son to her largest donors. She’d been doing that shit for so many years he thought it was normal and hadn’t gotten a taste of freedom until a football scholarship took him to a college clear across the country. Collin never made it to college though. He boarded his plane, disappeared on a layover, and showed up in Europe. I shipped him back to the States after sending him a former abuser’s head. I liked fighters, and Collin was one of the best. He wasn’t above returning like-for-like treatment when the time came.
“Freedom isn’t a tangible thing, Collin.”
“No, but it’s the answer to your question.”
“I gave Ashlyn freedom, remember? She came back to me.”
“Oh, you have that confused, C. You gave her a choice, and she chose you. You gave her freedom in that warehouse with Trace. You gave her freedom when you helped her hold the knife. You gave her freedom when you got her out of that hellhole with Lorcan. That was freedom. Choice is different.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, freedom is a state of mind long before it is physically felt, if ever. A prisoner can serve time in calm when their mind is free. A man about to die shows no fear because of the same reason. Ashlyn had the strength to come back because you’d already shown her what freedom looked like several times before.”
“You know, you irritate the hell out of me when you wax poetic and shit. I like you better when you’re turning someone into a meat bag.”
“No, you don’t.”
He was right. I could play the game, the thug, the wild man. All of it was a carefully crafted persona for my enemies to be drawn into. Shit-face crazy, dangerous Caesar St. Clair. They didn’t test me because they knew I’d go to any length—and enjoy it. But that didn’t mean they were playing with a simpleton to be led around by my rage and dick. Men didn’t make it to where I stood on guts alone.
I wouldn’t admit that to anyone outside my inner circle though.
“You got me, Collin. The thing is, Ashlyn deserves the world on a platter, and I’d love to give it to her. Or the moon on a golden string tied to her pinky for her to play with. Whatever she wanted, I’d make it happen. If I cou— Son of a bitch.”
“What?”
“Franco’s about to be pissed, that’s what. Get me home, I’ve got to make a phone call.”
“Aren’t you mommy’s big boy?”
Tyler gurgled as a lopsided grin, so like his father’s, transformed his face. I loved this small bundle more than the breath in my body—more than I ever thought possible. His dark ringlets and eyes were Caesar’s, but I could see my mouth, nose, and the shape of my chin when I looked at him too. He was a perfect blend of his parents. I kissed his punching fist before rolling him over to rest on his belly. He could fight sleep all he wanted, but it was time for a nap.
Out of habit, my fingertips found the slightly raised ink along my hairline behind my left ear. Always Caesar. He bitched about it not being nearly as big as his tattoo of my name, as well as something about me being scared of the pain, and I ignored him as I did all of his jibes. Caesar was a battering ram of emotions and wonderful pain. He knew I could take anything he threw at me. It was why, through all the complaining, I never failed to feel his lips—
Like that.
Warm, soft lips slid up my neck before a sneaking tongue snaked out to trace the tattoo. Shivers raced down my spine as sparks shot off through my bloodstream. Even as his steely arms wrapped around my midsection, I sank against him, soft to hard. Sharp points to concave. We always fit like this: jagged puzzle pieces mashed together and sewn in blood.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
“Mmm.”
I traced my nails over his forearms. “Use your words.”
“Fuck. Now. Love. Hurt.”
It was crazy, we both knew it, but those four words were our story. Our way. He’d broken me in so many ways, but he built me up, piece by piece, and in doing so he saved himself.
I spun in his arms. “Your little king isn’t asleep yet, and if you mess that up, you won’t know where to find your balls before I feed them to you.”
His lopsided grin stole my breath. “You know I like it when you talk dirty to me.”
“Is the tree up?”
“Yeah.”
When he went He-Man on me, there was no way I’d get anything else out of him, so I let my monster take me to bed and hurt me so good.
“Can we finish our conversation now?”
Caesar blinked up at me, his chest rising and falling with each powerful breath. “I didn’t do my job well enough if you’re up to anything more than sleep.”
“Blame it on motherhood. I know the little devil will be up anytime now, ready to eat.”
“Well, you’re going to have a break soon. I’ve distracted you long enough.”
“What?”
“Get cleaned up and meet me downstairs.”
Caesar was out of bed and striding away to the guest room before I even had a chance to ask what the hell he was talking about. Miami sprawled out in front of me through the floor-to-ceiling bulletproof windows of our penthouse master suite in Caesar’s condo building. No one but us and members of his organization lived within these walls. It was a haven, a cocoon away from the world. We’d only been attacked once on this turf, and Caesar had upgraded the place to the teeth afterward.
“Kim,” I called out, addressing the building’s integral virtual assistant.
“Yes, Mrs. St. Clair?”
Damn, I loved hearing that. “Get the shower ready on my settings and rotate closet hangers to dresses.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Twenty frantic minutes later, I was wearing a soft, black t-shirt dress that dangled to the floor. I could hear Caesar and Tyler playing together and Collin’s rumbling voice as I headed out the bedroom door.
“The queen has arrived,” Caesar said.
I froze in my tracks at the top of the staircase. Amidst his men who were standing next to a decorated tree, a line of blood-red rose petals trailed from the stairs and took winding turns around the living room. Statues dotted the room at random stopping points—the Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, and the Sky Needle in Tokyo.
“What is this?” My voice shook, low and full of awe, but my Caesar heard it. He always did.
Slowly, he looked over at Collin and back to me. “Freedom. Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Christmas is a month away, Caesar.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll be enjoying your gift starting sooner and moving into the new year.”
“What?”
“Every place, Ashlyn. Everywhere you ever imagined seeing but never thought you would. The world, baby. Here’s the freedom to go wherever you want, whenever you want. Franco will take care of things here, and Collin will come with us to keep an eye on Tyler when we want to be alone.”
I nearly stumbled down the stairs, but I made it on shaky feet. My man was there, having already passed Tyler to Collin.
“You’ve taken me places before, Caesar.”
“Not like this. It’s your show. It’ll always be your show.”
“I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah, what else is new.” He laughed, but then his eyes grew serious and he cupped my face in his palms. They were hard, rough from violence and strength, but he held me softly. I was precious, his precious Ashlyn. “But do you know just how much I love you? I do
n’t think you’ll ever understand. I won’t die for you, baby. I’ll live for you. Any way you want me to.”
Who was I to argue with the man of my heart?
“Pack the bags,” I ordered.
“Already done. We can leave whenever you’d like.”
“Now sounds good.”
“Now?”
“Now. I’d like to join the Mile-High Club again.”
“Fuck yeah!”
THE END
Thank you for reading Caesar’s Gift. I really hope you enjoyed it! Want to see how Caesar and Ashlyn found love? Enjoy Dark Romance? Check out their book here!
http://leteishanewton.com/dark-romance/vanquished
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Books by LeTeisha
Dark Romance
The Lost Series
One Hour Girl
Scarred
Phenomenal
Standalones
Going Under (MC Dark Romance)
Vanquished (Dark Romance)
Whispers in the Dark (Dark Romance)
Military Romance
A SEALed Fate Series
Protecting Butterfly
Protecting Goddess
Protecting Vixen
Protecting Hawk
Protecting Heartbeat
About LeTeisha
Writing professionally since 2008, LeTeisha Newton’s love of romance novels began long before it should have. After spending years sneaking reads from her grandmother’s stash, she finally decided to pen her own tales. As many will do during their youth, she bounced from fantasy, urban literature, mainstream, interracial, paranormal, heterosexual, and LGBT works until she finally rested in contemporary romance.
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