Sin, page 22
At her words, I turn around and lock eyes. Green on blue. “You’re not upset about the dead woman?”
“Oh, I am.” Her eyes flicker to the photos and then back at me. There’s fear in them, but for some insane reason, it’s not with me. “Something happened with her and you were involved, there’s no denying that. Your reactions confirm it, but my question is why? Why did he personally deliver these? Why did he say that you took her from those that love her? Not past tense, but present.”
Holding a hand out, I give her the option to take it and follow me. When she does without a second of hesitation, I feel some of the tension leave my body. With her hand in mine, I walk us to the seating area and sit with her beside me.
London makes a noise of disapproval at the back of her throat and lifts my arms so she can crawl into my lap. “Much better. Now talk.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “You’re one of a kind.”
She shrugs. “I am.”
“Okay, before I explain, I need to know a few things.”
“Shoot.”
“What were his exact words, Twirl? When he showed you those pictures, what did he say word for word.”
She takes ahold of my hand and begins to play with my fingers. “He said you killed your last girlfriend. That you, and I’m quoting him here…”
“Go on.”
“Look at what he did to her. Karina Hughes is dead because of him,” Twirl whispers, pleading with me to set things right. “Now, my question is quite simple. Did you—”
“I did.” I’ll give her credit for not getting up and running for the door. Instead, my girl gave a nod and kept her eyes on mine. Waiting for the rest of this story. “The girl in those photos is someone I dated for a while. It wasn’t love or anything special, just a companionship based on our mutual needs. Hers for money and mine for appearance sake.”
“So, you didn’t love her?” Her question is so low I almost miss it.
“Not at all.” I push back a stray piece of hair behind her ear, giving her a soft smile. “Karina was superficial and made a mess of everything she touched. While I did give it an honest try with her, nothing was there. No love. When I ended the relationship because quite honestly, I was tired of the bullshit and fake tears she used to manipulate those around her, it never crossed my mind that things would go so far.”
London turns in my arms and straddles my thighs. Leaning forward, she presses her forehead to mine. “What happened to her. What happened to you?”
“I wouldn’t take her back, and she got desperate. Angry with me and my family.” I close my eyes, seeing that moment all over again. Reliving Karina’s last moment alive. “Somehow she convinced my mother to have lunch with her at their home. The staff there found it odd, and Magda, who was filling in for the cook on vacation, called me to let me know. You can imagine I rushed over, London, and what I found put me in a blind rage.”
“Tell me.” Her lips ghost mine, just a soft caress. “I’m not going to judge you.”
“Karina held my mother at gunpoint, making demands about money owed and wanting to be paid. She threatened her life. Held the gun, dug it deep into her temple while my mother sobbed. To this day, I hold no remorse. None. I didn’t think twice about shooting her then, and I would all over again to save someone I love.”
Wetness coats my cheek before I hear a sniffle. When I open my eyes, what greets my line of sight is comprehension and respect. Not a single ounce of judgement.
“You did the right thing, Malcolm. Had it been my mom, I would’ve done the same without a doubt.” My girl swallows hard, lip trembling as her emotions pour out. It’s been a crazy day for her. “I’m so sorry I ever, even for a second, doubted you.”
“Thank you.” I kiss her soft lips then, tasting her tears. It’s slow and gentle as I wind my arms around her back and pull her in close. This kiss isn’t like the others that overpowers and destroys our senses, where time seems to stop, and nothing but the other person remains. No. This kiss feels like coming home. Like acceptance and understanding. “And I’m sorry that he sought you out. That you felt alone in that moment.”
“Something isn’t right with that man or his visit,” she says then, sitting back as a heavy sigh leaves her. “What a coincidence that I see Alton, Brittany, and this man all on the same day?”
Indeed.
Picking up the locket on her chain, I finger the ballerina. “This chain can never come off you, Twirl. It has a small tracking device inside, and until I put an end to the Foster men, I can’t take the chance of something happening and not being able to find you.”
“Say what?” Then, for some reason, she starts to giggle, her body shaking in amusement. That is, until she notices I’m not joining her. “You can’t be serious...are you?”
“I’m not joking, London. Promise me you won’t take it off.”
“Do you think it’s necessary?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Hands on her thighs, I caress the soft skin in gentle strokes with my thumbs. “That easy?”
“Pretty much.” She shrugs then, shifting a bit in my lap to get more comfortable. Her heat sears me through my pants, but for the moment, I have to ignore my desire for her. Have to pretend that I don’t see how hard those little nipples are or how my mouth waters at the sight. “You’ve done nothing but take care of me without crowding, and I appreciate that, Malcolm. The things with my father...finding the truth for me...I can’t thank you enough for that. I trust you, and if you say it’s needed, then I’m following your lead.”
“All I want is for you to be safe and happy.” And you will have that soon enough. Taking a pause, I choose my next words carefully. Since we met, I’ve done my best to not push too hard and let her make up her own mind, but what’s coming next isn’t a request. She needs this. “That’s why you and I have a date tomorrow at a shooting range and then some time at the gym after for sparring lessons. It’s going to be our thing at least three times a week for the time being.”
“We are?” Twirl can’t hide her excitement at the idea, and that pleases me.
“Yes.” With two fingers I grab her chin and bring her lips to mine. Peck them once, twice, and then stare deep into those beautiful blue eyes, wanting her to see the truth in my words. “I never want you to feel fear again.”
31
“I WANT HIM IN a cell within the hour. Presidential treatment,” I hiss out, eyes on the screen in front of me, watching as the dumb fuck walks away from his post. The door to my office closes just as Jimmy looks past the camera and toward the gate, while on another screen, London opens the front door with her phone in hand.
She’s not paying attention to her surroundings. It’s something we’ll address soon in training.
I’m happy she feels safe at our home, but in this world, you can never truly let your guard down. Being able to protect yourself and knowing what to do are things that’ll come natural to her once I’m through. I’ve seen the gleam in her eyes—the hint of her own darkness below—and I’m going to nurture that tiny demon. Sharpen her claws.
On the monitor, she’s just talking. Her lips curling a bit when she pauses near the end of the driveway, closing her eyes with a small smile on her face as the last bit of sun caresses her skin.
Beautiful, and you can see the appreciation for her looks on the leering look Shawn gives her. He’s a dead son of a bitch.
My phone pings then and I pause the feed, flicking my eyes to the device. Twirl’s name flashes with a message attached.
We’re home. Please don’t be too late. ~Twirl
My girl left about thirty minutes ago after Gina came for her. While I love and trust Mariah, right now she needs protection. More than one available gun.
I’m past being civil or being rational. They’ve been poking the wrong beast, and I’ll show my next hand soon enough. My ducks are in a row, and the last piece is about to make an appearance.
Promise to be home before your show starts. Wouldn’t dream of missing an episode of the cheesy goodness you love so much. ~Malcolm
Three small dots appear on the screen. Then they disappear. Then start again.
This goes on for a few minutes. However, once her reply comes through, I can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out. That, or the way my cock twitches at her words.
Was that sarcasm I detect in your letters? ~Twirl
Are you being bratty, Mr. Asher? Do you need a spanking? ~Twirl
The thought of my hands reddening those luscious cheeks is very appealing. A cock-throbbing little fantasy I’ll make a reality soon enough. I’ll push her boundaries a bit. Make her crave more.
After the way she perfectly worshipped my cock, I know her desires match mine. That she’s the one the Lord above used my rib to mold. For me.
London’s been saving herself for me without knowing.
But more importantly, there’s another truth I uncover with each passing day. My own confession.
This cheeky little thing means everything to me. I love her.
Careful, little girl. This man does bite. Spanks too if you want. ~Malcolm
Her reply is instant. And so is the shiver than rushes down my spine and then settles on the tip of my dick.
Promises. Promises. ~Twirl
At six on the dot, I find myself walking down the stairway toward the holding cells a few floors below the bank. The lighting is low, and it takes me a moment to adjust as I cross the threshold and into a very interesting show.
They don’t notice me, and that’s okay. I prefer to watch for a few minutes.
Undoing my jacket, I lay it on a chair near the entrance as a laceration appears on Jimmy’s brow. Next, my fingers undo the buttons of my shirt, one by one, and then leave it atop the jacket as Javier delivers another bare-knuckle blow to Jimmy’s midsection.
Closely followed by two more, and the prisoner’s screams mute the sound of the large door closing.
The air meets my chest while the energy within the room flows around me, taunting, igniting my need for blood.
For a few weeks now, I’ve been playing nice. I’ve been understanding.
That ends here.
Today, I begin my reign of justice.
Carmelo steps back from Jimmy, letting the man go so he can swing on the chain. He’s bloody and crying, begging them to stop. Each of my men shake their heads, knowing that what comes next is the kind of mindfuck most can’t handle.
“Shut the fuck up,” Javier growls, fist connecting with Jimmy’s jaw. The man’s head snaps back as blood splatters the ground below and Javi. “Why did you vacate the security kiosk without letting anyone know? Why did you let Agent Hayes come and go as he pleased?”
“I was calling my pregnant wife back. She’s been feeling off?” A lie. Stupid, stupid man. “Swear it, Javier. You can call and ask her.”
“Bullshit.” Carmelo walks toward a small table nearby and picks up a gun—he cocks it back and points it straight at his chest. “I’m going to give you one more chance to—”
“Enough.” Everyone stops and looks at me. Two with a bit of mirth, and the last, Jimmy, with fear. A fear that manifests itself in perspiration and tears. To a rapid growing wet stain that appears at the front of his pants the closer to them I get. “He’s telling the truth.”
Relief, pure unadulterated relief pours out of him in tears. Pathetic.
“Oh, thank God,” he whimpers, falling to the ground as Javier releases the locking mechanism on the pulley system for chains. “Mr. Asher, I don’t know what’s going on here. I’ve never done anything to jeopardize the business or those you associate with. I’m a worker. Just a foot soldier.”
Another lie. Besides, no one ever mentioned him hurting my business. He gave that up himself with that comment. Not that I didn’t already know this, but like every other fool, you give them leeway and eventually they’ll hang themselves.
Jimmy Cross has been selling me out to the Fosters for a while now. He met with Alton just before they made the move to extort, and again just recently, running his mouth about London. He’s one of the reasons why Roberto’s wife is grieving the death of her cousin.
I nod, hand coming up to scratch my bare chest right over the all-seeing owl. “It’s been a huge misunderstanding, Jimmy, and I apologize. Please let me compensate you for this unfortunate event.”
“Only if that pleases you, boss.” He looks up at me from the floor, the right side of his face swelling. “I’ll be okay with a few days off just to rest.”
“Consider it done.” Turning to Javier, I give him a hard look. “Help him to a seat. I want him to witness how I deal with traitors. How I skin a rat and the man responsible for his beating.”
“That’s okay, boss. I just want to clean up and go home.”
“Take a seat, Cross. Sit and enjoy the show.” There’s no room for argument, and he nods, letting Javier help him. Once he’s comfortable to the right of the room, I walk to the door and open it, revealing a man on the floor with a guard holding a gun to his head.
The cleanup crew is silently awaiting orders too.
There’s a gasp, but I ignore it. Instead, I raise a hand and snap my fingers once. The boys know what to do, and without a word they carry the asshole inside while Javier keeps Jimmy in his seat. His hold is firm, and while the fight or flight kicks in, my now-freaking-out employee can do nothing about it.
He knows the man as the owner of a bar he frequents. Someone he places bets with here and there over the season of our Chicago Bulls. To whom he lost a lot of money not long ago on a rigged poker night.
Jimmy doesn’t consider him an enemy, but I do.
What they didn’t consider into their equation is my finding out. People talking.
Frank Lewis is a personal friend of Marcus, one Lieutenant Bristol’s uncle from his mother’s side, and the man responsible for the meeting between the Fosters and Jimmy. For luring my employee away with the temptation of a paid debt and enough money to walk away from everything, including his wife. For planting ideas in his head that were never set to become a reality.
Marcus and Frank would kill him if their plan came to fruition.
Unfortunately for Frank, I need Jimmy alive for just a little bit longer. He’s the head of the snake I must cut to terminate easy communication, to scramble their piece-of-shit wannabe network, and send them into hiding.
I want them desperate.
Afraid.
Crazy enough to make a few stupid moves.
My men drop his near-naked form between me and the ash-white security guard before taking their places once again. Frank’s body hits the cold concrete hard and he groans, head bouncing off the ground as he tries to get into a fetal position but can’t. It’s slow. His limbs aren’t cooperating.
Consciousness seems to be slipping, eyes rolling back, and I bring him back with a kick to his midsection. He cries out, shifting onto his back, choking on air while his body stiffens—trying to breathe through the pain.
Still, I land another. And another.
Each hit is direct and now aimed at his ribs. An area that is quickly turning an angry red while a welt appears from the tip of my shoe, the hard leather marking his skin as blood begins to pool at the surface. Bruising.
“Please stop,” he begs, coughing. Frank moves a hand to block my next direct kick, but I move last minute, landing the blow to the side of his leg. “Let’s work this out. I’ll tell you anything you want.”
“Anything I want? Is that right?” Kneeling, I grab his face, forcing his focus on mine. “What could you possibly say that will change the outcome here?”
His eyes flicker to Jimmy. “I know a few things.”
“Humor me.” I stand up and as I do, Carmelo and the other guard do the same with him, holding him up a few steps from me. “Tell me a story.”
“Marcus Foster isn’t your girlfriend’s father. It was all a lie.”
“Tell me a better story. Be original.” Shaking my limbs out, I stretch my neck.
He eyes me with distrust, fear radiating off his shaking form. “Alton wants her for his own—” I cut him off with a right hook to his jaw. At once he goes stiff and begins to fall back. The sole reason he doesn’t hit the ground again is my men.
“String him up.” Jimmy’s stench hits my nostrils, more potent now, and I turn to look at him. “Want to get cleaned up?”
“Yes, please.” His voice is low. Meek.
“I’ll take care of it.” Javier moves to the wall behind him where there’s a knob and he turns on the overhead irrigation system for this section. This one works with stinging pressure, pelting the walls and ground for cleaning purposes, while the dirty water flows toward the center of the room where a large drain sits.
When the four of us step back, Jimmy gives us a perplexed look. It doesn’t last long when that first jet of cold water hits his beat-up face—the pressure stings—reopening the cut above his eyebrow—causing blood to flow down his face in rivulets. His companion in idiocy screams, now awake and freaking out when he realizes that he’s strung up and without an escape.
We let them cry it out until all that’s left are shaking bodies and weak pleas.
Carmelo looks at me then, and I give a minute nod. He leaves the room to retrieve something for me.
“Please make it stop.”
“This is a mistake.” They speak in unison, tones hoarse.
I step beneath the water and head straight toward Frank’s body. Look him in the eye. “You want it to stop?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me a story.”
“What kind?” You can see it on his face. The resignation. He’s realizing that this is his end.
That his only choices are brutally or quick.
“The kind that’ll make your last minutes on this earth bearable.” If it weren’t for how angry I am, I’d find this somewhat amusing. Walking over to the switch, I shut the water off and then level Jimmy with a glare that dares him to move. “Can you do that, Frank? Can you surprise me?”
