by Jen Davis
Wednesday night, Sucre summoned him to El Cabron. He went with his heart in his throat, sure his bastard of a boss would have some other degrading hoop for him to jump through.
When he arrived, though, Sucre, missing his regular gaggle of girls, sat on his throne with Tre on one side and a younger guy on the other.
He only spared the kid a glance at first, but something pushed him to do a double-take. The boy looked eerily similar to Tre, but instead of projecting bravado, his face was very serious. No flashy clothes, he wore jeans and a dark hoodie and stared at the wall across the room.
Damn.
He would bet all the cash in his coffee table he was looking at Olivia’s missing student. Gaze focused back on his boss, he advanced toward the throne. “Sir.”
Sucre tossed him the phone he’d taken at the apartment. “Brick, I want to introduce you to the newest member of our little family.” He gestured to the teenager in the hoodie. “This is Devon. He’s going to be learning the ropes over the next few weeks.”
The kid flashed a look at him briefly, and Brick nodded his head. In his peripheral vision, he could make out Tre’s clenched fists and tight jaw.
“Young Devon is Tre’s brother by blood. I’m sure they’ll both be able to bring something special to the table.” Sucre turned to Tre. “You’ll welcome your little brother to the fold with open arms, won’t you?”
For a moment, he thought the fool would be crazy enough to tell Sucre no. Tre’s eyes drew to slits and his mouth, a thin line. Ultimately, though, he managed to grit out an unconvincing, “Yes, sir.”
Sucre clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Devon’s already been doing some small assignments for me. We’ll start revving things up a little later in the week. Brick, I want you to go over the outstanding accounts with Tre. His brother and I have some quality time we need to spend together now.”
Apparently, Sucre wasn’t going to say anything about the scene he’d made Saturday or the video he’d texted from his phone. Fine. But Brick wasn’t fool enough to think his boss had let it go.
As Sucre led Devon toward his office, Brick could only hope the man’s harem waited back there as a surprise for the boy. The alternative was too disheartening to consider. Either way, there was nothing he could do to affect the outcome.
He motioned Tre to the bar where the bartender was already popping open two longnecks. They sat on the old leather stools.
“Where are you on your collections?” he asked before taking a swig of his Budweiser.
Tre didn’t answer. His fingernails dug into the scuffed wood in front of them.
Brick cleared his throat. “I understand if you’re worried about your brother.”
“Worried?” Tre scoffed. “I’m not fucking worried. I’m pissed.” He gripped his beer and guzzled it down. “This is my gig. Last thing I need is perfect little D coming along and trying to do it better than me. He needs to stick to his own shit.”
“You think he wants to be here right now?”
“Why wouldn’t he? This job means good money, respect, and all the free pussy you could ever ask for. And it’s supposed to be mine.”
“There’s plenty of it all to go around,” he said quietly. “We’d better focus on those accounts, though, unless you want a different scenario to play out.”
Tre nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But brother or not, if Devon tries to take even a little of what’s mine, he won’t live to regret it.”
***
Liv
Liv had been uneasy all day, like someone had been watching her at work. She could’ve gone to Will’s construction site as she had been for more than a week, but instead she called Iz and met her for a sparring session. People packed the gym this time of day and all the other people gave her at least the illusion of safety.
Izzy linked arms with her as they walked into the gym. “I’m glad you called me. I like sparring with you, Nugget, even if you do still whine sometimes about the shiner I gave you once.”
Though it was true the black eye was still an occasional sore spot, at least practicing self-defense gave her a proactive thing to do. Her resolution about making good choices wasn’t bullshit. She would help herself by taking these lessons seriously, like she should have done from the start.
God knows she was flailing in every other part in her life. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw Devon. She’d lost him.
Then there was Jonathan. She was falling hard for the guy, and she was pretty sure he felt the same. Still, she felt as though she could lose him any second. What if his drug lord boss kept him in a fight too long? Or what if some junkie came at him with a gun? And she refused to even think about the possibility of Sucre putting his hands on him again.
Jonathan was so big and strong and capable, but even he had been a victim. Without training, what chance did she have?
She rubbed at her sternum. “I kind of hoped we could work on grappling holds and escape techniques.”
Izzy stopped a few feet into the building and cocked her head to the left. “Is there something you want to tell me about?”
Not even a little. “You wanted me to learn how to defend myself, right? I don’t need offensive techniques. I don’t even really need to deflect a punch, Iz. If anyone were to come at me, they’d grab me, right? What I need is to be able to get away. I liked the stuff where you showed me how to escape a hold from behind. I want to go over it again, and anything else you think would be good.”
Iz rubbed her hands together briskly as they faced off on the mat. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”
“You wouldn’t be helping me if you did.”
Over and over, they ran through the drills. The first half hour they did only attacks from behind. They must have done it twenty times. When the arm came around Liv’s neck, she’d tuck her chin and push out her shoulder, step out and duck under it. Tuck. Push. Step. Duck.
Tuck. Push. Step. Duck.
Determined to get it right, she pushed herself.
Soon, her muscles responded without thought.
Tuck. Push. Step. Duck.
She pulled the elastic band from her hair to reform her ponytail. The hair framing her face and neck was damp with sweat. “What do I do once I get out of the hold?”
“Hurt him. Then run.”
“Like, kick him in the junk?”
Izzy shook her head. “It’s not always as easy as it sounds. I’d jab him in the throat if you can. Don’t make a fist. Keep your fingers extended.” Her sister gave a quick demonstration, then gave her a chance to try it herself. “If you have something sharp, go for an eye, but you can’t be squeamish. What was it Carol liked to say? Go big or go home.”
The idea of popping someone’s eye turned her stomach. She frowned. “I don’t know if I could pop somebody’s eye.”
“Then punch him in the ear or slam the heel of your hand up into his nose. Either one will hurt like a motherfucker. Strike hard, then run fast.”
They never did get around to front-facing grappling attacks, but she felt a lot more confident walking out than she did walking in. “You have time for dinner with your now-badass little sister? My treat.”
“As long as it’s not Chipotle.”
“Spoilsport.”
***
The next day at work, Liv’s nagging feeling came back, and it followed her all day long. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what bothered her, but her sister had told her a hundred times never to ignore an instinct.
Getting backup would be the smart approach.
It only took a few minutes to find Dave, the school resource officer/security guard, to walk her out. Even with him right there, her stomach did a slow flip when she spotted her car. There were key-marks scratched in either side, footprints and a deep crater caved in on the hood, and all four tires were flat. Someone had attacked her little Corolla.
She whipped her head around the parking lot, searching for clues to the perpetrator, but deep in her heart, sh
e knew who to blame. She’d let herself believe Devon’s brother had forgotten about her. Obviously, it was too much to hope for.
“You have someone you can call, Ms. Turner? A husband? Your father?” Dave asked sympathetically. “I could help you file a report.”
She blinked back tears. “Let me try my brother.” She dialed Will’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. Afterward, she called the gym, looking for Eduardo, but it was his day off. Briefly, she considered calling Izzy, but in truth, there was only one person who could make her feel safe right now.
Jonathan answered the phone on the first ring. “Livie?”
“I need you to come,” she whispered. “He came to my school. Slashed my tires. Trashed my car. I can’t drive it.”
She imagined a rage building in the silence before he spoke. “Let me make sure he’s not watching you. Do you have somewhere safe to wait for me?”
“I’ll wait in the office. Jonathan?” She swallowed. “I’m scared.”
“Hold tight. I’ll be there soon.”
Though she stayed busy filling out a police report with Dave, the hour she waited for Jonathan seemed to last forever. He texted her when he arrived outside.
Brick: Stay where you are. I’m changing your tires.
A fresh wave of terror washed over her. What if Tre was still out there? What if he was watching Jonathan right now?
No. Her man was too careful. Still, the wait stretched in front of her like melted wax.
Another fifteen minutes passed before she heard from him again.
Brick: Have someone walk you out. I’m going to follow you home.
She spotted his truck a few parking spaces away as she got behind the wheel. For the first time in an hour, the panic began to subside. With Jonathan in her rearview mirror, she knew, at least today, she’d make it home safely.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Brick
The minute Brick followed Olivia into her apartment, he had to touch her. To assure himself in the most basic way she was safe and unharmed. Snatching her into his arms, he molded her body against his.
When she’d called him, he’d known something was wrong. But he forced himself to take the time to track down Tre and make sure he was long gone before allowing himself to run to her rescue. It took even longer because he had to stop and buy four new tires for her car.
Now with her here in his arms, he couldn’t let her go. “Tell me you’re okay,” he gritted.
She’d buried her face in his T-shirt, and the fabric muffled her reply. “Now that you’re with me, I can finally breathe.”
He pulled back enough to scrutinize her face. Her freckles stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Her lower lip trembled. He needed to make her forget—make himself forget—for just a little while, the threat wasn’t over yet.
Cupping her cheek, he captured her mouth in a kiss. Her lips met his hungrily; she slipped her tongue into his mouth. A hint of mint tickled his senses.
He could never get tired of kissing her. Everything about it felt right, from the firm press of her silken lips to the tiny sounds of pleasure escaping from her throat. He wanted to consume it, hold on to every perfect sensation so he could remember it all later and relive the moment again and again.
Without warning she broke away from the kiss. Grasping his hand, she led him wordlessly to her bedroom. “Unzip me.”
Fumbling with the tiny clasp, he pulled down the tab, revealing the creamy skin of her back. With a slight shimmy of her shoulders, the simple navy dress fell to the floor and pooled at her feet. She unhooked her white bra and dropped it on the pile of fabric before turning to face him, wearing only a tiny pair of white panties.
He ached to trace her beautiful breasts. They were full and firm and swept up to her small, pink nipples.
“I don’t want to wait any more,” she said huskily. “I want to feel you against me. Inside me. I need you.” Her plea took his breath away.
In a heartbeat, he kicked off his boots, stripped away his T-shirt and jeans. His boxer-briefs joined the growing mountain of clothes on the floor in seconds. His cock stood up against his stomach.
Inch by inch, his eyes tracked those tiny panties slipping down her legs, until his Olivia stood bare before him. And finally, there was no more waiting.
Sweeping her up into his arms, he reveled in the skin-to-skin contact. He kissed her like she was the air he breathed. They moved as one toward her unmade bed, and he lowered her to her back. She was a fucking feast laid out in front of him. Lying on top of her, he ran tender kisses along the column of her neck, then moved down to lave attention on her breasts.
“Touch me,” she groaned, her own hands sliding down his back, kneading his skin.
He traced over the hourglass of her figure, from the outside of her ribcage, to her slender waist, down the flare of her hip. Shifting the bulk of his body to the side, his right hand traversed her pelvic bone, ending its journey in the slick warmth between her legs.
“You’re so wet,” he groaned, his middle finger sliding in and out of her pussy, spreading her moisture across her slit.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long. More. Please.”
A second finger joined the first, and her hips rose to meet them. His thumb kept a steady slide over her clit as he fucked her with his fingers.
Without looking, she reached back awkwardly and felt for the drawer of her nightstand. She yanked it open and pulled out a handful of condoms she dropped beside her on the bed.
No words were necessary. He stopped touching her only long enough to slip on his protection, then plunged his aching cock into the heaven between her spread legs. Her wet heat enveloped him.
He should savor something this exquisite, but his body was greedy for the bounty laid out before him. He’d been starving for her too long.
Gripping her shoulder, he thrust with powerful strokes. Her gasping breaths matched his rhythm, and a thin sheen of sweat dotted her forehead. In his fantasies of making love to her, Olivia was always mindless with pleasure. The reality was even better, because her eyes locked on his with laser-like focus.
The magnitude of their connection turned him on even more. He was ready to explode, but one crucial thing had to happen first.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispered, slipping his thumb above the spot where their bodies connected. She cried out, and her body tightened around him. The muscles contracting around his cock pushed him beyond his control. Unable to hold back another second, he came with her, roaring her name. The intensity left him light-headed.
Rolling onto his back, he pulled her onto his chest, his dick still buried deep inside her. He felt her hot tears on his skin, and his stomach dropped. “Did I hurt you?” he asked hoarsely.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were still wet, but a soft smile teased her lips as she rubbed her chest. “Only in the very best way.”
Her words echoed his own from a week before. God, had it been only a week?
Smiling, he let himself relax into this perfect moment. Never in his life had he made such a deep connection to another person. He hadn’t thought he would ever know how it felt to be in love.
He knew now, without a shadow of a doubt.
He loved Olivia Turner, and there was no way he could ever live without her again.
***
Liv
Even though he played it cool, Liv couldn’t miss how Jonathan freaked out over her tears, but she couldn’t think of any words big enough to capture how she felt. Sex had never been like this before. She felt him in every muscle, every bone in her body; he was everywhere. Everything.
This is what it meant to feel alive. The high she got jumping out of a plane was a pale imitation.
The clock next to her bed said it was five-forty-three, though it felt much later. Her stomach rumbled in agreement. “What do you like on your pizza?” Reluctantly, she disentangled herself from his arms and broke the physical connection between them.
Just for now, she vowed. There would be more loving later.
Jonathan sat up with her, tying off the condom and dropping it in the small trash can near the nightstand. “Load it up. I like it all.” He paused. “Except anchovies.” His nose wrinkled. “Or green peppers.”
Whipping out her phone, she pulled up the app for the pizza place around the corner and placed an order. Jonathan disappeared into the bathroom and came out seconds later with a warm, wet washcloth. A tinge of pink stained his cheeks as he held it out awkwardly to her. She accepted the offering and cleaned up quickly.
As she went to drop it in the hamper, she noticed him slipping on his boxer briefs. Quickly, she snatched his T-shirt and pulled it over her head.
When he raised his eyebrow, she gave an exaggerated pout. “I’m not ready for you to get dressed.” She twirled, the extra fabric of his big shirt billowing around her. “If I’m wearing this, you can’t.”
Jonathan folded his arms and gave her a hard look, but he didn’t fool her for a second. He had laughter in his eyes. Satisfaction.
Her gaze strayed down to his torso. He was The Rock and Thor rolled into one. Stepping closer, she ran her fingers across his sculpted chest. “I love seeing you this way. Your body is—” She licked her lips and dragged her gaze up to meet his.
“My body is yours. My heart. My soul.” He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Dirty and broken as it is. It’s all yours. I love you.”
The tears came back with a vengeance. Like before, they were the happy kind. A mixture of joy and gratitude and…falling from a great height. Carol knew what she was doing when she added this to her list.
Fearful anticipation shadowed his face as he waited for her reply.
Cupping his face, she whispered fiercely. “I love you too. I have never felt this way about anyone. You say you’re mine?” He nodded. “Well, I am yours. I don’t know how this is going to work. I don’t know how we’re going to get you free, but we will. I won’t lose you. Do you understand? Whatever it takes.”
