Capone

by Lynn Burke

  “I did.” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off from arguing. “It’s not a bribe,” he said. “I’m not trying to grease your pocket and buy you off.”

  “Then what is all that extra money for?”

  “For a job well done. For showing up at the drop of a hat without knowing jack shit about the Gliders and their business.”

  “I’ve been desperate for clients,” I heard myself say again.

  “Capone has had nothing but great things to say about you personally, and the track record you have… Well, I would like to keep you as the Gliders’ lawyer—if you’re willing.”

  A motorcycle gang president trusted me enough to hire me on for their future. They might be lawless, but I needed to recognize them as I had pointed out to Deputy Jenko—men who took care of their community in need. The YMCA’s renovations they had helped fund. Our elementary school’s special education department had monetary needs, and the Gliders had stepped in with a large enough donation, no further fundraising had been needed for two years. Countless other donations over the past forty years had helped those in need within the community.

  I actually smiled as my thoughts eased. “I am willing.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he said. “And one last thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “About Capone.”

  “What about him?” My tone remained even, thank God.

  “You hold his heart in your hands. I hope you realize what a treasure it is.”

  I found my lips twitching although my gut clenched. “Mr. Hayes, I never would have taken you for a romantic.”

  Jonny huffed. “I’m not.” His gruff reply didn’t change my thoughts, though. “Don’t hurt him, Ms. Bodnar.”

  My lips flatlined, but I didn’t take offense at the clear threat. “I believe I already did.”

  “He’s been a miserable bastard all week, and to be honest, I’m fucking sick of it.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I kept my trap shut.

  “He’s loyal to a fault,” Jonny continued. “One of the most generous, kind men I know. Soft as a squishy grape.” He chuckled at the last word.

  “He is, isn’t he?” I asked, running a fingernail along the edge of my desk.

  “He would lay his world at your feet if you told him to.”

  My smile returned at his choice of words. “Told, not asked?”

  “He’s submissive by nature, but that doesn’t make him any less of a man.”

  I considered his words long after we hung up.

  Capone

  Helina: My day sucked ass. Any chance you want to come over and cheer me up?

  I stared at the text a full two minutes. Did she want to get laid or did being with me actually make her happy? She had no qualms about voicing her wants or desires while fucking, but other than that? Other than pissiness, the woman didn’t know how to communicate what she felt toward me.

  Heaving a breath, I considered her invitation. Go to her place and have my heart ripped apart even more when she tired of me, or take advantage of every second she offered, every inch of skin she allowed me to touch and taste?

  Fuck. I groaned as my cock swelled in my loungers.

  I’d been fucking miserable since I’d walked out of her apartment. Miserable with the unrest in the club, my sole reason for being. My life was a waste. I had zero ambition to do anything beyond cooking since Helina had knifed me in the heart.

  Having found that ball and chain—love—for that sure as fuck had to be what I felt for Helina, I didn’t want to live my life without it. Wasn’t fucking worth the effort.

  Comparing her to a drug might not be what she wanted, but that’s what she was to me. She’d entered my bloodstream with a blast of energy and life I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.

  When, I finally texted back, needing one more hit, regardless of how I might feel afterward.

  Fucking drugs. We needed to stop dealing…

  Helina: I’m attempting to cook, so say six-thirty? You bring dessert.

  Oh, I’ll bring dessert, all right, I mused to myself while texting back an affirmative. The woman was in for a special treat, the kind that just might show her how fucking perfect we were for each other.

  ****

  Butterflies made my hands shake, and I scrubbed a hand through my hair before pressing the doorbell beside Helina’s front door. She must have seen me coming—or was waiting—because the door swung inward.

  Pink tinged her cheeks, her catlike hazel eyes meeting mine with a sparkle of light I hadn’t expected. “Hey.”

  “Hey back,” I said, soaking in every inch south of her smile. Deep cleavage I could get lost in. A little pink dress with the cutest damn apron of yellow and blue flowers. Didn’t match worth a shit, but tied tight around her waist, the rounded bit of material accentuated her curves. “Damn, woman…” Legs bare from the knee down, including feet with pale, pink polish. “You look good enough to eat,” I said, finally lifting my gaze to her face again.

  Her smile brightened. “Thanks,” she half-purred, all breathless and siren-like. “Come on in.”

  I stepped past her, fighting the need to adjust myself as her perfume swarmed over me.

  “What sweet treat did you bring me?” she asked, reaching for the bag I held.

  I pulled it back from her grasp. “Food first.”

  She rolled her eyes, her lips in one sexy pout I wanted to kiss away, but she turned before I made a move. “I hope it’s okay…”

  “What’d you make?” I asked, following her back the short hallway to the kitchen.

  “You mean what did I attempt to make?”

  I chuckled and set the bag on top of the island.

  “A baked chicken, but I failed.” She pulled a couple tins from the stove. Even the mitts on her hands made me want to bend her over the table—screw the place settings and single candle flickering between. “I got takeout from Diane’s.”

  Biting back another chuckle, I moved toward the bottle of red and wine opener she nodded toward. “Can’t go wrong with Diane’s,” I said.

  “Don’t laugh.”

  I let it fly. “Can’t cook worth a shit, but you sure look sexy as fuck in that housewife get-up.”

  She snorted and put the bolognaise on the table. “Thank God I chose the type of career that will afford me a cleaning woman and takeout.”

  I wanted to offer my chef services on a daily basis, but still unsure of how she felt, I poured the wine and offered her a glass as she pulled up beside me.

  “Cheers?” I asked, raising my glass.

  “To my landing a new client,” she replied, clinking hers against mine. “Thank you.” Her voice had lowered along with the corners of her lips. “I know it was your doing.”

  I shrugged and sipped the room temp red.

  “I’ve never had a man believe in me the way you do.”

  “Then they’re blind. Or, just plain stupid.”

  Her smile returned along with the twinkle in her eye as she lifted her glass.

  “Thought you had a bad day?”

  Helina’s smile widened, and she turned away, her ass swaying while walking to the table.

  I let my groan out and followed to pull out the chair for her.

  “Thank you.” She tugged the chair forward, and unable to help myself, I pulled her hair across to one shoulder and pressed my lips against the one I’d bared. Her head tilted to the side as she sighed, and I allowed myself a few more tastes of her neck, breathing her in so deep that my dick ached.

  I stepped away, and she let out a huffed exhale. “If I wasn’t so damn hungry,” she said, “I’d tell you not to stop.”

  Grinning, I settled across the table from her. “I thought lawyers needed to be good liars,” I said—same as I’d done before.

  “What’d I lie about?” she asked, one eyebrow raised while dishing out the pasta.

  “The bad day.”

  “Oh.” She smiled and finished plating our food. “About that.” Wineg
lass once more in hand, she twirled the stem between her fingers, her gaze on the red liquid inside. “It was bad in that I was disappointed in myself.”

  “For?”

  “For the judgment I’d placed on you since we met at the wedding.” She sipped and put the wine back on the table. “You offered forgiveness the other morning over breakfast, and I never even apologized.”

  “You were right to think the way you do.” I twirled some pasta onto my fork, not meeting her steady gaze I swear I could feel on my face. “I’ve chosen a lawless lifestyle, one known for its violence and disregard for manners.”

  “But…”

  I shoveled the forkful into my mouth, finally lifting my attention to her face. She watched my lips while I chewed. “But?” I asked once I swallowed.

  “But the group you’ve aligned yourself with also is known for its generosity. Its support of the local people.”

  “Doesn’t make our wrongs right.”

  A small smile tilted her lips upward. “No, but everyone—lawyers included—have, shall we agree, unsavory bits in their lives.”

  “No one’s perfect,” I agreed, twirling another forkful. “So, no more judging?”

  “No, but there’s more.”

  I raised an eyebrow, waiting.

  “I want to apologize for calling you out and embarrassing you in front of your brothers. For assuming you’re an alpha asshole like the bikers in my past. For using you for sex.”

  I grinned. “I’m ready and willing to be taken advantage of in that way anytime, ‘Lina.”

  She bit back her smile. “I won’t apologize for my dominate nature—”

  “It’s sexy as fuck.”

  “—but my means of communicating my emotions could definitely use some work. Can you find it in yourself to be patient with me?”

  “I could.”

  Helena narrowed her gaze. “Will you? Please?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Both of us smiling, we ate in earnest, filling the holes in our stomachs while chatting about our childhoods and narcissistic assholes.

  I stood beside her, drying the dishes she washed, wishing like hell I could do the same thing every damn night.

  “More wine?” she asked, once we finished.

  “How about dessert instead?” I grabbed the bag, and when she made a noise of agreement, I pulled out a Tupperware container, my back toward her.

  “What is it?” she asked, trying to lean over my shoulder as I pried off the lid.

  Container in both hands, I turned, my gaze gluing to her face. “A taste of what we could be.”

  “My weakness…” She breathed the words and jerked her gaze up from the homemade Rice Krispie treats.

  My pulse fucking raced, but I needed to throw it all out there, get the broken heart over with if that’s what lay in my future. “We’re a perfect fit, Helina Bodnar. All that snap, crackle, and pop—your fire, your strength … I want it all.”

  “No man has ever supported me like you do,” she whispered. “No one has edified me the way you have.”

  “They’re blind,” I said again.

  “They’re not real men,” she replied, a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Not man enough for you, no.”

  “Are you man enough for me, Jeremiah Caldwell?”

  I cringed at the use of my full name. “I’m the only man for you—and you know deep down that I speak the truth. Tell me to stay, Helina.”

  She picked up one of the gooey squares. “Don’t go.” Half of the treat disappeared between her lips in one bite.

  “You couldn’t just say what I told you to, could you?”

  “Get used to it.”

  I all but tossed the container back onto the island behind me, grinning like a fucking fool. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, grabbing hold of her waist and yanking her against me.

  She tasted like the most divine slice of heaven. My heaven, my ball and chain.

  The End

  www.authorlynnburke.com

  Other Books by Lynn Burke:

  www.evernightpublishing.com/lynn-burke

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  BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

  ABEL’S OBSESSION

  Lynn Burke

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  The first time I saw her was the first time I gave a thought to what life outside of our community might be like.

  I had turned sixteen the week before and finally gotten my own open buggy just in time for Rumspringa. My sister Naomi sat on the seat beside me in her plain dress and apron as we trailed along behind my parents to Sunday worship, the black lacquer around us shining in the rising sun, bringing a not-so-humble grin to my face.

  While I had a few acquaintances who were already sixteen and running around out in the world with the English, I planned to adhere to traditional behavior—for the most part. One freedom I had looked forward to for years was cutting my thick, black hair. Like other Amish men, my hair hung long enough to cover my ears, and I hated how it curled and caught my sweat on warmer days. The morning before, I had turned sixteen and rode my bike to the nearest barber shop to have him cut my hair shorter like an Englisher.

  My parents frowned upon seeing my hair cut, but didn’t say a word. I had entered the time of life where I was free to make my own choices. Free to spend time with my peers, free to date, free to finally experience what I wished before making the decision to be baptized into the church.

  I pulled up behind my father’s buggy at a four-way stop, and the blaring of a radio and racing engine drew my attention to the left. A red convertible topped the hill and rolled toward us. My father started on through the intersection, and I pulled ahead to the stop sign as the car downshifted and drew closer.

  Although filled with pride over my own new ride, a shot of envy knifed my gut as the car slowed to a stop. Sleek, shiny, and faster than anything I had the privilege of riding in. Such cars called attention to their drivers, something people of the Old Order didn’t believe in doing.

  Father forgive me—

  The thought cut clear off as a toss of springing red curls drew my stare to the back seat of the car and the tight ringlets framing a perfectly heart-shaped face. Her green eyes flashed as our gazes collided, and her singing along with the other three girls in the car stopped mid-sentence.

  Want.

  I leaned forward, elbows on knees to hide the sudden tenting of my broadfall trousers from my sister beside me. Heat swept over my face, but I couldn’t look away as the car started through the intersection, the thumping bass from its speakers pounding in my ears.

  The redhead fluttered her fingers at me in a little wave, her bright smile sending jitters clear to my toes as she angled on the seat to keep eye contact with me.

  The reins hung slack in my hands as I sat unable to think—to move.

  “Abel Beiler.”

  Naomi’s stern voice jerked my gaze from the riot of red curls. “Ya?”

  Blue eyes fringed by black lashes, the same I also had inherited from our mother, narrowed, but she bit back a smile and cleared her throat, motioning onward with her chin. “Your eyes don’t belong on the things of this world.”

  “Yes, Mamm,” I said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

  One last glance at the curls disappearing in the distance and I flicked the reins. If only one of the plain girls from our community had caught my eye as the redhead in the convertible had.

  For the first time, longing for more beyond the simple life of an Amish man filled my mind. I imagined myself on the leather seat beside Red, my arm draped across her shoulders, her petite body snuggled against mine. Of course, I would be wearing English clothing—jeans, a pullover s
hirt, and sneakers...

  A slippery slope, I reminded myself of my father’s words the previous month when discussing Rumspringa. One step in the wrong direction could very well pave the way to eternal damnation.

  Focusing on the day ahead of us—the three-hour Gmay, luncheon, and my first youth group gathering afterward—I hurried the horse along after my parents toward the Fisher’s farm where that Sunday’s worship was being held.

  “I’m envious of you today,” Naomi said, her voice quiet but still heard over the clip-clop of my horse’s shoes on the pavement.

  “You’ll be running around in less than three years,” I said, glancing over at her.

  Ever the rebellious one, she huffed, crossed her arms, and stared out over the freshly turned fields smelling of manure. “Three years too long.”

  “Is it freedom from Daed and Mamm or the prospect of dating that most appeals to you?”

  “Both.” She turned to face me. “What about you?”

  I shrugged, keeping my gaze on the back of the buggy in front of us as the image of Red’s flashing eyes burned my mind. “I have every intention of being baptized into the church.”

  “You’re going to adhere to traditional behavior then as you always do?”

  “Ya.”

  “Not me.” Naomi faced forward once more. “I’m going to wear a bikini, get my navel pierced, and wear makeup every day.”

  Unable to help myself, I smiled. “I’m sure you will.”

  “I’m going to date an English boy and get my license, too.”

  “Just be sensible and not do … well, anything that you’ll regret for the rest of your life,” I said, thinking about a boy touching my sister in a way he shouldn’t.

  “You mean pre-marital sex?”

  My back grew rigid as I turned toward her, my eyes wide as an owl’s. “What do you know about such things?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve seen enough animals on the farm to know how procreation works.”