The Rising, page 9
part #1 of Unlawful Men Book 4 Series
Funny, I was wondering. “Eternity,” I say, leaving the ruby sitting between his finger and thumb. “Does that mean, if I accept, I have to spend forever with you?”
“You already agreed to that when you caved in to my charms and let me take you from the casino floor of the Aria as an insurance policy.”
I laugh loudly, my head thrown back. “Oh yes, when you kidnapped me.” I let my amusement fade into a chuckle and lower my head. I find him smiling. Such a beautiful smile. He drops a peck on my mouth as he takes my hand and slips the ring onto my finger to join my engagement and wedding rings. He looks down at it. “This is the only red I ever want to see on you,” he says quietly as he strokes the ruby, and I inhale subtly as he looks up at me, his scar glowing. “I mean it, Rose.” The damage we have both sustained at the hands of others, the damage we have inflicted on each other. It stops now.
“That goes for you too.”
“Agreed.” Our lips come together, and he stands, pulling me up with him and reaching under my thighs to lift me to his body. I wrap every limb around him but loosen my hold when his sucks in air through his teeth. “It’s okay.”
“It is not—”
His lips hit mine and I lose myself in his mouth’s attention as he walks us into the villa and lays me on the bed, his forearms on either side of my head and his knees on either side of my hips, holding him up.
Because . . . the cuts.
Not my round belly. It’s because the cuts that are there because of me.
I try my hardest to push those miserable thoughts into a box, but as he kisses me with all the adoration I know he feels, all I can think about is how much stress I cause him. How much worry. How much pain. If I weren’t a burden, he’d have simply packed like Ringo and Brad. He’d be fucking his way through whores without care, without concern. My safety wouldn’t plague him. There’d be no need to placate the missus before returning to the battlefield. He’d be free.
My head naturally shakes, my body naturally tensing, and Danny instantly pulls away, looking down at me. I smile. It must be lame because his eyes narrow. “Talk,” he orders, and I pout. “Now, Rose.”
“What do I bring to this relationship?” I blurt out, surprising myself as much as I’ve clearly surprised my husband. His blue eyes are round and unsure. I sigh. “I make your life even more difficult.” I hold up the ring he just put on my finger, and he looks at it, as if he’s wary. “Cost you money, time, stress, and what do you get in return?” I have absolutely nothing to offer. No skills. No qualities. God, why am I only considering this now? I’m a total drain. What the fuck does he see in me?
The poor man looks completely lost, his frown deep. Great. So he’s wondering the very same thing. What does he get out of me, apart from pain and hassle? Defeated and feeling a heavy sense of failure, I wriggle beneath him, trying to break free, needing to escape the awkward silence. But Danny lowers his body to mine, and his hard, perfectly formed stomach is suddenly pressing into my rounding belly, his maimed chest pushing into my boobs. I still when he hisses in discomfort, and his jaw tight, he stares deeply into my eyes. “You,” he says, lowering slowly and pushing his mouth to the corner of mine. “I get you.”
I could cry. Once upon a time, having me equaled having freedom. Not anymore. “That’s sweet, but what exactly do you get out of me?” I know what I get out of him. Love, safety, freedom, happiness. Although the latter two are sporadic these days. He makes a living, albeit questionably, and he provides. Looks after us. Fucking hell, I’m a complete waste of space. “Tell me.”
“You want to kill a few men, because I have every faith you can.” He strokes his chin, reminding me of all the times I’ve socked him in the jaw.
I roll my eyes. “I’m being serious, Danny. Look at Beau.”
“What about her?”
“Well, for a start she’s a former cop. Trained, qualified. She can decorate, do gymnastics, martial arts, and let’s not forget—”
His hand lands over my mouth, shutting me up. “You’re my wife. You’re my lover. You’re my best friend. My be-all and fucking end-all, Rose Lillian Black.” Kisses are dotted over every inch of my face. “But most importantly, you are the mother of my children.”
His words quickly remind me that I am one thing Beau is not, and once again my heart breaks for her. God, are any of us truly happy with what we’ve got and who we are? “I want to learn to drive,” I say out of nowhere.
Danny looks quite alarmed. It doesn’t bode well. “You don’t need to drive,” he says. “I’ll have you driven wherever you want to go.”
I knew he’d say that. Some people might think that having every tiny thing done for you is a luxury. Not having to think about anything. “But I want to.” I have never learned. There was no point, because I wasn’t blessed with the freedom to just get in a car and drive. Not that I ever had the opportunity to actually learn, anyway. But now I do, and I’d like to.
“Why?” he asks, truly perplexed.
“The only skill I possess is the art of seduction.”
“Rose,” he says slowly, warningly.
“It’s true. And I can’t even do that anymore, and not only because I’m getting fat.”
He looks split between exasperated and plain fucking furious. “You’re wrong, you do have another skill, and you’re fucking ace at it.”
“What?”
“Pissing. Me. Off.” Jaw rolling, he lifts his body again, relieving himself of the painful friction of our touching chests. “For fuck’s sake, Rose.” Getting off me, he sits on the edge of the bed and rests his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands. “Why can’t you just be happy?”
I laugh as I push myself up, resting against the headboard. “God, you’re a dick sometimes.” Our peace was short-lived. Again. I could scream. But I don’t. Instead, I growl, pushing myself to the edge.
“Rose, wait.” My wrist is seized, stopping me from standing, and I look back to see Danny stretching across the bed, virtually lying down to reach me. Pain is etched all over his face. He shakes his head, breathing out heavily. “No more fighting.”
“Then stop being a jerk.” I shake him off. “I have needs, you know.”
“Do I?” he asks, sounding truly surprised. I don’t suppose I can blame him. “Because I’m pretty sure you were content. I don’t even know what’s brought this on.”
“Perhaps feeling useless.”
“So you want to learn to drive?”
“Yes! I want to be able to take Daniel to school, or soccer practice, or a friend’s or . . . or . . . or wherever! And when this baby arrives, I’d like to go to the store if I need to. Or take him to the park. Or have coffee with a friend.” What the fuck am I saying? I expect none of those things can happen, but I pray one day they can. Then, when they do, at least I can drive myself around.
“Him?” Danny asks.
“What?” I yell, impatient, scowling at him.
“You said him.” He gets up, tilting his head. “When you referred to the baby, you said him.”
I recoil, thinking. “Did I?”
“Yes.” On narrowed eyes, he starts stalking slowly toward me. “Do you know something I should know?”
“No.”
“You’ve not asked Doc if he knows the sex?”
“No.” I laugh. “I don’t want to know. I want it to be a surprise.”
I’m seized and thrown on the bed, and he’s on me in a shot, pushing my dress up my body to expose my belly. “So, your mother thinks you’re a boy.” His big palms splay over my bump and stroke, and I exhale, settling again. “This is bad, bad news.”
“Why?” I ask.
He bites my hip, and I yelp. “Because I already have an heir for my mafia empire.”
I look down at him in horror, seeing him smirking. “That’s not funny.”
“Neither is your incessant need to rile me.” Crawling up my body, he cages me in. “I’ll teach you to drive.”
“You’ll teach me?” I ask, looking up at his delighted face. I’m not sure I like the sound of this.
“Yes. It’ll give us something else to do together other that fight and fuck.” He reaches down to his pants, biting his lip, hesitant. I know what he’s thinking.
“Yes,” I say, and he breathes out his relief, starting to work his fly. He rolls his hips and he’s quickly inside me. I grab his biceps and we both inhale sharply. “Do you think you have the patience to teach me?”
He starts moving, and I follow his rhythm perfectly, relishing the depth he’s achieving, loving the look of blinding pleasure on his handsome, scarred face. “You think I don’t?” He thrusts suddenly, and I groan.
“I thought you’d be too busy smuggling guns, laundering money, and murdering many enemies to bother yourself with the mundane chore of teaching your wife how to drive.” Especially when he doesn’t really want to. I know what’s happening here. Control.
“I’m never too busy for you, baby.” He dips and kisses me while maintaining his dizzying drives, and, of course, I’m a slave to his attentiveness. “We’ll start as soon as we’re back in Miami.” His pace increases, and I moan around his mouth, feeling my veins starting to heat.
“I could just learn with a professional instructor.”
“I’m professional.”
“At car chases, perhaps. Oh God.”
“You coming, baby?”
“Yes!” My head starts to swim with heat, my legs shifting on the bed, stretching, tensing, my mouth ravenous for his as the pressure builds between my legs. Danny’s pace increases, urgency overcoming him, and he presses his fists into the mattress, lifting, getting more leverage, his hips moving like pistons. “Danny!”
His head drops back, sweat pours, and he roars to the ceiling, thrusting hard and pushing me over the edge. The explosion between my thighs sends shockwaves through me, and I shake beneath him as he trembles above me, his hips now pulsing, his cock surging, his muscles rippling.
“Fuck.” He drops, blanketing me, and our rushed, labored breathing fills the room. “Thank you,” he pants. Thank you for trusting him with my body again.
He pulls out of me and falls to his back, his face cut, his jaw tight, his jeans halfway down his legs. “God, we fight and fuck like pros,” he wheezes, and I laugh as I pull my dress down and get to my knees, removing them the rest of the way for him, taking his boxers with them.
“So you’ll teach me?” I ask, my eyes unable to avoid the fact that even though he’s naked, he’s not naked. His bandages.
“Yes,” he breathes. “Is Madam satisfied?”
I push away my guilt and crawl up his body, showing my appreciation—and sorrow—with a long, slow kiss that he accepts and contributes to, but his hands remain useless on the bed. “I need to pee.” I get up, smiling at his moan of annoyance. “Back in a m—” A horrific pain bolts through my stomach, and I bend over, grabbing my belly. “Shit,” I hiss, immediately short of breath.
“Rose?”
Pain. It radiates through me, making every muscle constrict tightly, an instinctive attempt to curb the unbearable agony. I cry out, dropping to my knees by the bed.
“Rose!” He appears before me, a blur of a man, and I feel his frantic hands grabbing at my arms, my shoulders, my face. “Rose, baby, talk to me, please.”
I blink rapidly, trying to turn the blob in front of me into my husband, needing to see his face. “I—” I retch, the pain so intense, it’s making my stomach turn.
“Fuck,” Danny hisses, and I’m moving, feeling my body being shifted. I recognize the warmth of his body pushed into my back, his hands wrapped around my upper chest, his face in my neck. I sit between his bent legs as he leans back against the side of the bed, and I swallow, struggling to clear my foggy vision, my tummy tight, but . . . the pain subsides a little. It lifts, and I hold my breath in anticipation for its return. Scared. I’m so fucking scared. “Rose, baby, I beg you, please talk to me.”
I can’t even find the breath I need to speak and tell him I’m okay. Perhaps because I don’t know if I am. Am I okay? Is the baby okay? “Danny.” I exhale, beginning to panic, the pain still there but nowhere near as excruciating. “Danny, the baby.” My eyes dart frantically as I claw at his forearms wrapped around me, like I might find the reassurance I need somewhere in the room.
“Fuck, Rose, I can’t leave you.” The agony, the conflict in his voice is real. “Can you stand? Do you think you can stand?”
“No.” I feel utterly wiped out.
“Fuck it.” He maneuvers, and my back is quickly propped up against the bed. He appears before me, still a little blurred, so I fight furiously to win back some clarity. I find his face. The torture. The agony. His scar is wicked and jagged and deep. His eyes haunted. “Are you in labor?” he asks. “Fuck, no, what the hell am I saying? What’s happening, Rose?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. I have no idea what the fuck is happening. I’m certainly not in labor at sixteen weeks.
“I need to get my phone.” He gets up. Comes back down. Up. Down. “Fuck!”
“Go,” I tell him, starting to take deep, controlled breaths. “I’m okay.”
“Fuck’s sake.” He runs out of the room and is back moments later, his phone at his ear. “She’s conscious,” he says, falling to his knees before me, feeling my thigh, stroking and squeezing. “In the bedroom. Come straight through.” He hangs up and makes another call, and I fear I know to who.
“No,” I demand. “Do not call Beau.” I can’t inflict this on her. It’ll bring everything she’s trying to forget back. It’ll renew her pain, her hurt, her grief.
“You need to come,” he says when she answers, standing and grabbing his boxers, pulling them on. “Now.”
He doesn’t give her a chance to ask why, hanging up and dropping his phone, falling to his ass and shifting in, caging me in with his bent legs. “Does it still hurt?”
“Not as bad.” I shift, dropping my head back, trying to concentrate on my breathing. He just came inside of me. Always does, so it’s not surprising I can feel the warmth of his cum in between my thighs. But . . . “Danny?”
“What, baby? What do you need?”
“I need you to check.” I can hardly get the words out. And I don’t need to elaborate. He knows. This is the only red I ever want to see on you. I drop my legs out wider, my throat tight, clenching my eyes shut, as Danny lifts my dress to my knees and looks between my legs. I hold my breath, waiting. Praying. Begging.
“There’s nothing,” he eventually says, his voice thick. “There’s no blood.”
I exhale and open my eyes. “Okay.” I nod, starting to breathe a little easier. “Okay,” I whisper, blinking back my tears, trying to keep it together.
No blood.
No more red.
I look down at the ring he’s put on my finger, wishing for it in all the ways.
No more blood.
7
JAMES
“What’s going on?” I ask from the bed as Beau throws on one of my shirts and yanks some denim shorts up her legs. My naked body is sprawled, my palm resting over my dick, the one that was buried inside her seconds ago ready to detonate. I’m still in pain. I don’t know what made her take Danny’s call. In fact, I’m quite pissed off she found the strength to answer over the orgasm we were both about to have.
She shoves her feet into some flip-flops. “I don’t know. He sounded upset.”
I get up and join her in getting dressed, coming to terms with the fact that my pleasure isn’t Beau’s priority right now. “Angry upset or worried upset?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she replies as she runs out of the bedroom. “Both.”
I fasten the fly of my jeans and traipse after her, thinking I’ve had about enough of the drama. Beau swipes up her keys from the table, and I swipe them right out of her hand. “I’ll drive you.”
She doesn’t argue, surprising me, instead hurrying out to her Jeep. She’s really worried, which only makes me wonder with increasing worry what the fuck is going on. “What did he say?” I ask as I slide in and pull away. “Put your seatbelt on.”
“That I need to go there immediately.”
I look across to her. She’s beautifully disheveled, but I can’t appreciate it past her apprehensive expression. We all know Danny wouldn’t hurt Rose, but no one can say with any confidence that Rose isn’t capable of something stupid, especially when she’s emotional. Her stunt at dinner earlier with the kid’s mate’s father case in point. She has a very bad habit of pushing Danny’s buttons. So could he have finally lost the plot with her? I roll my eyes to myself. Of course not. Those two might behave like they hate each other at times, but they’re ridiculously in love. So what the fuck is going on if they’ve not murdered each other?
When we pull up outside Danny and Rose’s villa, I listen for the sound of breaking glass or screams. Nothing. Beau is out in a flash, darting up the path as I follow on her heels. She bursts through the door, and we find Danny pacing the kitchen in his boxers, his expression grave, his blue eyes haunted.
We both slow to a stop, and I watch as Beau looks from him to the bedroom door over and over. She’s scared to ask. Can’t find her words. “Danny?” I say, moving forward, troubled by the glaze in his eyes.
“There was no blood,” he croaks, raking a hand through his hair. “No blood. And then . . .” He looks at the door, pain a blanket on his face. “And then I stood her up and . . .”
Oh fuck.
“. . . there was blood,” he whispers, dropping heavily to a stool, as if his legs refuse to hold him up any longer. “Doc’s in there with her. I couldn’t see her like that.”
Fucking hell. Painfully, I know exactly what he means. I look at Beau, my throat clogged with warranted worry, with pain that had briefly subsided, and see she’s frozen and quiet. Staring at Danny. I can feel square one on the horizon, waiting to claim Beau from me. Shit. I pace to the cabinet across the room and pour a Scotch, taking it to Danny and putting it in his hand. He’s visibly shaking. “Drink,” I order, scratching around on the worktop for his cigarettes and lighting one. I exhale and slip it between his lips, turning to Beau. She’s still motionless, her eyes now darting across the floor. I go to her, taking the tops of her arms, snapping her out of her trance. She looks up at me. I have not one fucking clue what to say to her. I can’t remove her from this situation. I can’t take her away from the impending hurt. I can only hope she sees the pain in me as I know she feels it in herself. Together. Always together.
