by Evie Monroe
Though my dick wanted to get in play, I wasn’t done with this. I wouldn’t be done until she came all over my face and I felt this sweet woman completely at my mercy. I slid down on my belly so I could delve in further. I dove back in, lapping at her folds and probing inside her with my tongue, going up and over her clit again and again. She began to grind her pussy against my face.
Suddenly, she was moaning my name, so loud that I couldn’t hear the cars racing by on the road beside us.
I moved my mouth over her. Licking, sucking, biting. Faster and faster. She came, biting on her bottom lip, and tearing her fingers through my hair. She pulled me firmly against her as I sucked hard at her clit, her moisture coating my face and beard.
As soon as she relaxed her hold on me a bit, I inserted two fingers inside her and then began to work on the side of her clit with my tongue. “I can’t...no more, Nix. No.”
That was her head talking. Her body wanted more. Fingers and tongue working in tandem, I felt her coming to the brink of climax, so I eased down on her to bring her down again. She whimpered in frustration each time. Before long, she forgot that we were outside, in public, and began thrashing on the ground shamelessly, begging for me to finish the job.
After a moment, I attached my mouth to her clit and sucked, firing in and out of her pussy harder and harder, as fast as I could. This time when she came, it was as loud as thunder, as she screamed my name.
I felt her body quaking as I pushed my tongue inside her as far as I could. Her hips were bucking hard, with a force that I didn’t know a little girl like her could possess. As her orgasm faded, I went back to the slow steady suction and held on until she finished.
I felt fucking proud as hell with myself, ready to bury my cock deep within her and give in to what would make this a perfect afternoon.
Suddenly she sat up. “Nix,” she said. “We shouldn’t have done this. We shouldn’t have left. Your brothers are going to die.”
I woke, naked, sweating, tangled in my sheets, looking up at the familiar water-stained ceiling of my apartment I’d been renting for the past two years. I wasn’t on the side of the highway. I was back in my familiar shithole in good old Aveline Bay.
I also had the hard-on of a lifetime.
That dream was too real. And it’d been damn good, up until the end.
A nightmare. That was all it was. My brothers were fine. I made a mental note to check on Jet and make sure his pussy-ass scratch of a gunshot wound hadn’t put him in a coma yet.
I closed my eyes, shaking those thoughts from my head, and concentrated on the way Liv felt on my tongue. God, she was sweet. The breakfast of champions. I’d never get tired of her.
Time to make that part of the dream come true. I reached my hand out to feel Liv’s soft body, curled next to me.
There was nothing but an empty space.
Propping myself up onto my elbows, I looked around. “Liv?”
She didn’t answer.
I pulled myself up out of bed and threw on my jeans. Then I pushed open the door and saw the bathroom door open. I called out again, my voice louder. “Liv?”
Nothing.
My eyes trailed to the front door. Even from here, I could see that the deadbolt was undone.
Holy fuck.
What had she done? She was scared to death. She wouldn’t have just left on her own, would she?
I retreated into the bedroom and picked my gun up off the floor where I’d carelessly tossed it the night before when I’d pinned Liv against the wall. Then I reached for my phone, which I’d left on the nightstand.
It wasn’t there.
My cock was rock hard, still, straining against my boxer briefs. I shifted it back into place. Holding my gun at the ready, I slowly padded down the hallway, into the main room with the kitchen and living room, but there was no one there. Skirting sideways, I checked the door. No sign of forced entry.
Shit. She just left. On her own?
I scanned the kitchen table, the counters, the refrigerator, the coffee table in the living room, looking for a note of explanation. Nothing.
I had a thousand explanations of where she could’ve gone, but none of them were safe. Even just going down to Winchell’s to get donuts could put her in danger. It was a really fucked up thing to do. When I saw her again, I’d be sure to punish her.
What the hell? What was she thinking? Didn’t she know what kind of people were after her?
I walked barefoot through the apartment, stopping in the living room. I raised my hands and brought them down over my head, trying to think of what to do next.
That was when I noticed my phone, lying on the sofa.
Definitely not where I’d placed it last night.
Snatching it up, I opened it to the list of recent calls. There was an outgoing call, made an hour and twenty minutes earlier. I dialed it.
A moment later, a cheerful voice said, “Bayside Taxi, how may we help you?”
Taxi? She’d called a cab? I paced the floor of the kitchen.
“Hey. A woman called from this number and requested a cab. Can you tell me where she went?”
A pause. “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t give out that information.”
“Yeah, but, she could be in danger. I need to find out where she is. Right. Fucking. Now.”
A sigh. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing I can do. Like I said—”
“Listen. This ain’t a joke. The last thing I know is she took a cab with your company. And she could be in trouble. Can’t you tell me anything at all?”
“Just that we did receive a call from a woman about ninety minutes ago, requesting a cab pick her up at 11 Bay Street, Apartment 12-B. That’s all. If you suspect there could be a problem, you can call the pol—”
I ended the call, frustrated as hell. I paged past the call to the taxi service and noticed an incoming call from a strange number. It had rung through several times, before being answered. I called it, but it went right to voicemail. “Hello, this is Michael Anderson. Please leave a message…”
Shit.
I jabbed at the end call button, so full of rage I could’ve flung my phone across the room.
She’d been in touch with her father. On my phone.
I collapsed onto the sofa, wondering how the fuck to make sense of this. Hadn’t she just said that she wanted nothing to do with him? Because it was clear he didn’t care about her. That thing that Jet said tangled in my mind. Was she just playing me? Working for her father, getting me right where she wanted me so that they could drop the ax on the Cobras?
No. I wouldn’t believe that.
Not Liv.
All right, then, I told myself. She could’ve just gotten sick of being cooped in the apartment. Maybe she wanted to get out for a while or go back to her apartment for something.
But why didn’t she write a note?
Something was wrong. She was in danger.
Anger rising, I lifted my phone and jabbed in a call to Cullen. “Liv’s disappeared,” I said when he answered.
His voice was gruff. Sounded like he’d just woken up, too. “What do you want me to do about it?” he muttered.
“What if Hell’s Fury is behind it?”
He paused for a long moment. “Do you know that for sure?”
I wished I had some solid evidence, but I had nothing. Just a gnawing feeling. And the longer we sat around debating, the better the chance that she’d get hurt. “No, but she called Michael Anderson from my phone and I think—”
“That’s her father. She’s not allowed to call her father?”
I exhaled. “But there’s something wrong with all this. I’m telling you, I—”
“How do you know your girl didn’t just fuck you over?”
“Because—”
“Listen, Nix, I know you want to protect your girl. And I know you’ve always been my second. But I ain’t taking your judgment as gospel anymore. Jet’s right. That woman’s clouded your vision. Call me if you’ve
got hard evidence. Otherwise, don’t bother me.”
I frowned. In the background, I heard a woman giggling. He hadn’t lost any time after that redhead. “Fine.”
“And remember, like we agreed last night, we’ll meet at the overpass tonight at ten and get our revenge on those motherfuckers. Okay?”
I told him I’d be there and when I got off the call, I texted my brother.
How you doing, asshole?
As pissed off as I was with him not backing me on Liv, she was right. I’d been taking care of him for years, and that didn’t just go away now that he was a grown man. Although it should have.
Then I pocketed my phone and threw on a clean t-shirt.
My mind never left Liv. I picked up one of my shirts and sniffed it. It smelled like her. In the short time she’d been in my apartment, she’d left a mark. Changed it for the better. I’d never wanted to live with a woman before, but I liked coming home to her.
And now, where the fuck was she?
All I knew was, I couldn’t wait until we met at the underpass and got our revenge on Hell’s Fury tonight to find out.
That could be too late. If I waited that long, she could be dead. No, I had to find her now.
I stepped into my boots, leaving them unlaced as I threw on my vest. I shoved my gun into my waistband, grabbed my phone, and went outside to my bike.
Chapter Twenty
Olivia
The taxi pulled up at the glass high-rise overlooking the Aveline Bay coastline. My father owned this building, and operated his law firm, Anderson Associates, a so-called firm of immigration attorneys, out of the top two floors. They were involved in imports, and their success had grown exponentially over the years, allowing him to purchase this prime piece of real estate a few years back.
That was basically all I knew.
Maybe it was a lie. It was probably all a lie, since everything else he’d told me had started crumbling around me. I wasn’t sure anything he’d ever said to me was true anymore.
I peered through the dusty window. Right away, I was struck by how empty the parking lot was. It was just after two on a weekday, and the lot was empty.
That is, except for a black Mercedes in the first space, near the entrance.
It was identical to the one my father had owned before. The one with the trunk I’d become intimately acquainted with. For as long as I could remember, my father always drove a black Mercedes. He used to say they were a sign of “having made it.”
Now, I looked at it and shivered with the memory of being bound and tied. Of darkness. Of walls closing in on me, making it impossible to breathe.
I clasped my chest and nearly choked on air. My body trembled.
“Are you all right, Miss?” the driver asked, stirring me from my thoughts.
I nodded, handed the driver the twenty and told him to keep the change, and only then did I realize I didn’t have the money to go anywhere else. It was almost like, deep down, I knew that once I went inside this building, I wasn’t going anywhere.
But I had to face this. If I had to give myself up as a hostage so he would go free, I’d do it, without another thought. He was my father, and it didn’t matter if we’d grown apart. I still loved him.
Knees wobbling, I stepped onto the curb and slammed the door. I took a deep breath as I looked up at the mirrored glass of the corner office that belonged to my father.
Though I couldn’t see inside, I felt like I was being watched.
I walked through the revolving doors, to a vast, several-story high lobby, adorned with giant banners of the flags of many countries. I was surprised to see no one at the reception desk. I’d been to his busy office a handful of times and always found the lobby bustling with suited professionals scattering like ants among the lobby. But now, the place was empty.
The sound of my shoes scuffing on the shining floors echoed loudly as I crossed the two-story lobby to the elevators. I pressed the up button, and the doors slid open immediately.
I stepped in and hit the button for the top floor, I watched the numbers on the door climb up to floor ten. When I got up there and stepped out, the halls were dark, except for a lone light coming from under the door at the end of the corridor. My father’s office.
My head swam, my heart thrumming in my chest. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I walked to his office, bracing myself for what I’d see when I got there. Was my father hurt? Or would it be even worse? Would he already be dead...because of me?
I clenched my teeth at the thought. I knew I couldn’t take that.
When I opened the door, I saw him, sitting at his desk as usual, in a crisp dark suit, his thick salt and pepper hair unkempt. He looked haggard and tense.
What wasn’t usual was the cautious look on his face and the two huge men standing behind him. They were rough types, in dirty jeans and leather, the type of people I’d learned to fear before I met Nix.
Not that I didn’t fear these men. I had no choice. The shorter, fatter of the two, the one with the beard, was pointing a handgun at the back of my father’s head.
I gasped. “Daddy!”
The eyes of all three men settled on me. My chest heaved, and my blood turned to ice.
“Well, if it isn’t darling Olivia,” the taller and thinner of the two said, grinning sadistically at me. He was clean-shaven but his hair was long and scraggly, and his face weather-worn. I recognized his voice from the phone. He motioned to the chair across from my father’s desk. “Have a seat.”
I didn’t want to sit. Every part of me wanted to run away.
I slowly inched to the chair and sat at the edge. “Daddy? Are you okay?” I said timidly.
He nodded. His voice was tight. “Olivia. I’m sorry.”
I opened my mouth, trying desperately to stay in control but a sob escaped. “No. Dad. It’s okay. What’s important is that you’re okay.” I looked up at the men. “What do you want from me?”
The man with the gun pointed at my father’s head grinned, his eyes scanning over my bare legs, taking in my breasts. I was only wearing short jean cutoffs and a barely-there tank top. As he licked his lips, making my stomach churn, I wished I’d worn more clothes. I pulled the frayed hem of my shorts down helplessly to cover my trembling thighs and he asked, “How is Phoenix, Olivia?” He sing-songed my name, taunting me.
I frowned. “What difference does it make?” I planted my hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward, eyes begging. “Look. The Cobras have nothing to do with my father’s business. I have nothing to do with it. If you want my father’s business, then deal with my father.”
My father gave me a blank look, like he didn’t understand.
Surely he wouldn’t be this dense. I knew my father was invested in his business, but would he die for it? What was the purpose in that? “Dad. Just give it to them. They’ll kill you otherwise. Tell them they can have your business,” I urged.
He didn’t answer. He laced his hands together on the polished desk in front of him. He no longer looked cautious or in fear of his life.
He looked almost...serene.
I scanned their faces, their clothes. They were unshaven and rough, dressed in beaten motorcycle jackets, and they had flame tattoos. The men had to be Hell’s Fury. And they were pointing a gun at his head. What was I missing?
“I’m sorry, dear,” he finally said, giving me a rueful smile. “But I can’t do that.”
“You...what?” I asked, incredulous. “Are you insane? You’re willing to die for your business, it means that much to you?”
He shook his head. “No, Olivia. I’m sorry. You don’t understand. I did this for your protection...for our protection. I’m sorry.”
I opened my mouth to say that I didn’t understand, when he dropped his hands to his sides and swiveled in his chair, away from me, toward the harbor. He murmured, in a voice I could barely hear, “Remember. You promised she’d be safe.”
I leaned closer, confused. As I did, the stout man drop
ped his gun from my father’s head. He grinned at me and started to advance. The other man came around the other side of the desk, too, toward me, and as they did, I saw the Hell’s Fury patches on their jackets.
I took a step back, still not comprehending, ready to bolt for the door. “Wait. Dad. What is this?”
With another step back, I rammed against something hard that hadn’t been there a moment before. I felt the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed into my side, and foul-smelling breath on my ear. “You’re ours now, pretty lady.”
I looked up at another man. A man I recognized. The man I’d fought with at the parking garage at the country club, before I was dragged into the trunk of my father’s car.
“Dad?” I shouted, frantic.
But he didn’t turn around.
“Dad!” I screamed louder, my heart ramming in my throat.
He sat there, still as stone, gazing out the window, as the man snaked an enormous hand around my waist, grabbing me to him, pulling me out the door.
I grabbed at the door jamb, scrabbling to hold onto it and screaming for my father as they pried my fingers away and wrenched me down the hall. I kept fighting, kicking and writhing, as the men lifted me. The largest one threw me over his shoulder with ease, upending my world. “Don’t fucking make a noise.”
“Fuck you!” I shouted at him. “Let me go!”
“You want us to stuff something in your mouth again?” the enormous man said. “This time, it won’t be a handkerchief. It’ll be my cock.”
They laughed at his joke. My stomach roiled as he carried me toward the elevators.
When the doors parted, he threw me down on the ground. The stout man began to bind my arms with some kind of cord while the larger man held me down. I struggled, this horrible sense of déjà vu overcoming me. How did my father think this was protecting me? The small, cramped elevator was hot, the air humid, and the rank smell of body odor assaulted my nostrils.
Fuck this. I will not fucking be put in a trunk again. Will. Fucking. Not. I’d rather die.
