Chapter 23
Rian
The man’s head snaps back, rolling to the side as blood drains from his mouth and the holes in his cheeks. Aodhan steps back, shaking out his fist and slipping the devil brass knuckles off. Cillian takes them from him and tosses them on the cart to be cleaned.
I squat before the chair, leveling myself in front of the tired man as his swollen eyes try to look at me. “How you doing, Conor? Had better days I reckon?”
He groans, shoulders shifting as he tries to get out of the restraints.
“I wouldn’t bother. You’re not going anywhere if Cillian doesn’t want you to,” I say with a smile when Conor’s face pales further.
He tries to talk but spits the pooling blood onto his pants before coughing to clear his throat.
I sigh and glance back at the men behind me. “What do you think he’s trying to say, boys?”
“Why am I here?” Cillian snickers.
Aodhan scoffs. “Why are you doing this?”
Conor coughs again before whimpering. “Please.”
“Please what? Please stop? Please let me go?” I ask him, flipping the switchblade in my hand open.
He shrinks into himself, his gaze on the metal glinting under the light of my basement.
“Tell me, Conor. When did Luca get to you?”
He sucks in a shaky breath before muttering a hushed fuck. If I had to guess, he’s figured out he won’t be getting out of this room alive.
I stand and press the tip of my knife under his chin. His face is battered to the point he’s nearly unrecognizable. Purple and blue skin swells around his eyes, holes in his cheeks from the devil knuckles are caked with clotted blood. “How about we make a deal? Information to ensure your wife and daughter are still taken care of after you’re gone. I assume they aren’t aware of your betrayal of this family.”
Conor’s throat bobs as he swallows. “No, she would have left me if she’d known.”
The hoarse confession doesn’t tug at my heart. His wife is a distant cousin who uses the small connection to trade in favors for her benefit within the community. If anything, it adds to my disgust for the couple and their greed.
“Sad story. I'll ask one more time. When. Did. Luca. Get. To. You?" I demand, letting the blade nip at his skin. It parts the skin easily, slicing a thin line, and blood gathers at the surface.
Conor whimpers. “A few years ago. When you and the brotherhood stopped coming home as much.”
I clench my jaw, my teeth aching from the pressure. “And what does he want?”
“Information. Mostly on some of the businesses, if we have any shipments.”
Cillian growls under his breath. “Which shipments? Alcohol or guns?”
The trembling man in the chair licks at his dry lips. “Guns. He never asks about the alcohol.”
Aodhan’s fist flashes out of nowhere, snapping Conor’s face to the side. I lean back and he groans, more blood draining from his mouth. My brother steps closer, his hands twisting into Conor’s shirt and pulling him to face Aodhan.
“The delivery from Ottawa. Did you give Luca that information?” Aodhan grits out in Conor’s face.
I stiffen, my heart beating faster at the thought. We lost a lot of good men in that delivery. An ambush had been waiting for Aodhan and his crew right before they crossed the border. It also injured Aodhan’s shoulder; he still struggles to hold a gun up properly. It’s why we keep him in New Jersey full-time, an enforcer for whatever my father needs.
A whine escapes Conor’s throat. “I didn’t know what he would do.”
My eyes squeeze shut. In the years since that loss, not once did I think it was caused by betrayal from one of our own. I stand, give Conor my back, and stare at the wall.
“Cormac will want a piece.”
I nod, agreeing with Cillian. We lost eight men from the Ottawa ambush, two of them close friends of Cormac. My stomach turns and my nose tingles, but I won’t shed a tear in front of this traitorous bastard. I only wish we would have found out faster, saved more of our men.
Turning back to Conor, his face is pale as his gaze bounces between all of us warily.
“How’d you communicate with Luca?”
Conor looks at the floor and my fists curl, wanting to torture him further for even hesitating to answer.
“The second Tuesday of the month. There’s a burner in the Frosties cereal box third from the back at the corner mart by my house. I usually grab it and use it in the bathroom, wait for the phone call.”
Aodhan punches him again. This time in the stomach and Conor coughs, struggling in the chair.
“Does the owner know?”
Conor takes a moment to gather his breath. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I don’t know who put the phone there either.”
I glance at Cillian, who nods at me. “I’ll have Declan check it out.”
“Why? What did Luca promise you to turn traitor?” Aodhan grits out, his anger barely contained.
A shift in his eyes has me grasping his chin and staring down at his pathetic bleeding face. I sneer, pressing into his wounds as he lets out a pained cry.
“Not a promise, but a threat. What secrets does he hold of yours?”
Conor is panting, his ragged breaths coming in gulps. “My s-son.”
I exchange glances with Aodhan. As far as we know, Conor only has a daughter, so he speaks of an affair. Letting his head drop, I wipe my hand off and grab the cart from the wall. Tools clang against the metal, and the prominent smell of piss seeps from behind me.
“Please, Rian. I’m s-sorry,” Conor sobs through his snot and tears.
Cillian grips his hair, ripping his head back and spitting into his face. “Tell me why your bastard son is more important than the lives of the good men we lost. Men who had their own families, families robbed from them.”
“S-she would have left me.”
I roll my eyes. Of course his wife would have left him, especially if the proof of his cheating was tangible and could be shown off before everyone. “Open his shirt.”
Conor struggles as Cillian grabs the collar, ripping it straight down the middle.
Moving in front of Conor, I stare at him blankly. “You could have come to us, but you chose to be a coward. The brotherhood condemns you.”
The tip of my knife presses into his flesh right under his throat as I start carving our cross into his chest. He passes out before I’m halfway done, so I move back as Aodhan presses smellings salts to his nose, and he startles awake.
“Where’s Aisling?” I ask, tossing the knife onto the cart before I lose my hold on it due to the slick blood.
Cillian stiffens. “Why?”
I glance at him. “We need someone Luca has never seen or heard of.”
His jaw tics, protective of his twin. “Last check-in put her in Tokyo.”
Nodding, I unbutton my shirt and sigh, knowing he’s going to hate this. “Bring her home.”
Aodhan taps Cillian on the shoulder. “If anyone can bring Luca to his knees, it’s your crazy fucking sister.”
Cillian snarls, pushing Aodhan away from him.
He laughs and moves to Conor’s bleeding body slumped in the chair to finish the carving while Cillian glares. The force of that glare moves to me, a strange pleading swirling in his eyes. “If I pull her out, I don’t think we will get another chance at the Yakuza.”
I shrug, cracking my neck and itching to take a shower to wash off the traitor’s blood. “Perhaps we spent too much time looking elsewhere when our true enemies lie in our own den.”
With a resigned nod, Cillian swallows. “It will take a few weeks.”
A flicker of hesitation has me pausing, a strange feeling I haven’t experienced before. “Ask her first. If she wants to stay, then she doesn’t have to come.”
Cillian stares at me, confused. “She’ll come where she’s needed.”
“I need her to seduce the heir of the Famiglia. The son of the Underboss, who for all we know is already dead. I’m sending her straight into a snake pit.”
His jaw works back and forth. “I can’t tell if you’re afraid we’ll lose her or you’ve lost confidence in her abilities.”
“Perhaps a little of both.”
He shakes his head. “That wife of yours is seeping into your heart more than you know.”
I don’t disagree with him. Instead, I leave him and Aodhan to finish what they do best: Ensure no one finds a trace of Conor again.
* * *
Annoyance trickles in at the lingering presence at the end of the hallway as I come up from the basement.
“Not now, Isabelle,” I say, heading to the shower in the bathroom across from the stairs.
She huffs out a loud breath. “You’re the one who wanted a wife. Now you’re just going to ignore her?”
I scoff, not responding to her ridiculous retort. I pump her full of my cum every morning, and I’ve made a gracious effort to be home for the dinners she prepares since our conversation about her feeling alone.
Her storming footsteps as she follows me into the room have me grinding my teeth. I lack a lot of control after a kill. It doesn’t matter who met the reaper from my hands or why. Something sinister slides into your soul with each life you take.
“Isabelle. We’ll talk later,” I grit out. Not bothering to turn on the light, I start the water in the shower.
She comes up next to me. “You leave in the mornings and don’t come home until late. You’ve only been around for dinners. I’m sick of it, you’re never here. So no, we’ll talk right now.”
My anger at her continued disobedience rises to the surface. I spin, grabbing her throat and backing her against the wall. I press my body into hers and lean in, knowing she can feel my breath on her face.
“Next time I tell you to leave me alone, I hope you remember this lesson,” I say through clenched teeth. My heart is pounding away, a sick desire to be closer to her overtaking every reservation in my mind.
My hand wraps around the back of her neck, guiding her to the counter and pushing her forward. She catches herself on the sink as I flick on the light and stand behind her.
Her eyes widen as she glances in the mirror. Blood is smeared along her neck and down the front of her dress. Then her attention turns to me and she screams. My shirt is stuck to my chest, drenched with the ichor of that traitor. My skin is stained red as it slides from my face and down my neck.
Isabelle ducks her head and tries to move around me, but I stop her. My hard cock rests against her ass as I keep her trapped between my body and the counter. Grabbing her jaw, I raise her face up to the mirror again. Her body trembles against mine.
“Red looks good on you, wife,” I whisper, and lick the shell of her ear. I pull her dress up to her hips, bunching it until my dirty fingers touch her warm sun-kissed skin. Sliding my hand between her thighs, I skim along the front of her panties and up to the waistband.
Inhaling her addicting fragrance, I twist her underwear and rip them off her body in one quick pull. She should have listened to me when I warned her away.
Unzipping my jeans, I pull my cock out, stroking it harder before pulling her hips out, causing her to lean forward more. I swipe my leaking tip along her wet slit before thrusting inside her warm, tight pussy.
“Oh god,” Isabelle cries out, her fingers gripping the sides of the sink.
I slide out, then slam back into her, adjusting my hold on her hips as I push myself as deep as I can. My eyes drift closed as I pound into her, the chaos in my mind calming as I focus on the perfect fit of my wife’s cunt. My obsession with her began the night she ran from my bed, and I haven’t been able to get over her since. Even if I didn’t know it until I saw her smiling face staring back at me in that stupid book. The fact that I’m the only man alive who knows the feeling of her snug warmth wrapped around my cock makes me want to fuck her constantly.
It makes me feral; I yearn for her all hours of the day. I pull her up against my chest, our eyes locking in the mirror as I rip down the front of her dress and her breasts bounce free. I smear the blood from her throat down and knead her mounds, twisting the hard tips of her nipples. Isabelle moans, her pussy gushing around my cock.
We may not see eye to eye, but this is something we’re always good at. She enjoys how I fuck her as much as I enjoy fucking her. Her mouth slacks open as I thrust harder, holding her tits as I snap my hips in quick strokes.
“Did you kill someone?” she gasps out.
I grit my teeth, pushing my cock deeper. “Yes.”
Her eyes close as her body trembles and I reach down, circling her clit. Her cunt clamps down on me, rippling around my length as she comes. The command to look at me as she releases is on the tip of my tongue, but I push it back. Instead I press my face into her neck, squeezing her closer to me, and pummel in and out of her pussy a few more times before flooding her with my cum.
“ Fuck ,” she groans as I continue to dump my load. My cock throbs with my orgasm and she shudders in my arms. I smile and kiss her skin, knowing she loves the feeling of me spilling inside her. Knowing that each time I do, there’s a higher chance I’ve put my baby in her.
Before our breaths calm, I pull out and drag her into the shower with me. She turns to me and reaches forward. I watch her in silence as she pushes my shirt off and drops it onto the tiled floor before kneeling to shove my pants down too. Any other time, my wife on her knees would have me harder than a rock, but I feel exhausted, more than just physically. I killed someone I thought was loyal, and it hurts.
Isabelle stands and shoves her ruined dress off, her eyes shifting back and forth as she studies my face. “Who was it?”
I swallow, grabbing the handheld shower head to wash off the remaining blood. She takes it from me, and I lean my head back as I feel the water spray over me. When I hear her put it back and feel the soft scrubbing of a washcloth, I let out a long sigh.
“A traitor.”
“Someone close to you?”
“No, but someone in the family.”
Her hands are thorough as she washes me, and I let her. My eyes shut as I try not to think about anything but her touch.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I tried to think about how I would feel in your place, but I can’t. I can only tell you didn’t enjoy it.”
I tilt my chin down to stare at her, grabbing the cloth to wash away the blood I’ve marked her skin with. “I don’t enjoy killing, Isabelle. None of us do, but it’s part of life. I have families who depend on me to keep them safe, and if given a choice, I’ll always choose them. Even if it costs a few lives.”
She rolls her eyes, the small fire I always see inside her lighting up. “I know that. I meant the betrayal of someone you thought you could trust. I think it would make me murderous too, but I hate that I even thought that.”
“I’ll kill anyone who betrays you.”
Her lips quirk and then she frowns. “And what if you betrayed me?”
“I would never.”
Her face twists in annoyance. “You promised me you would look into working at the restaurant, but it’s been days?—”
I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This again. Why does this matter so much to you? I can get you into any restaurant you desire.”
“It’s not just—” Isabelle steps away from me. “Tell me this, Rian. Did your father hand you the keys to the kingdom without training, or did you have to earn it?”
Clenching my teeth, I bring her back to me, pressing her wet, plump breasts against my chest. “It’s not the same thing. You are my wife. There is no need for you to work under anyone.”
She scoffs, her eyes cold with fury. “Then people would only come because they don’t want to disrespect Rian’s wife. Not because my food is so amazing they can’t live without it. Not because my restaurant deserves the recognition.”
My fingers knead her ass, and I understand her point. “Then let me find a place here.”
Isabelle sighs. “My father and António?—”
“No. You won’t be returning there. I just killed a fucking traitor, Isabelle! You’ll find someone with enough pedigree to teach you on my territory. Compromise with me on this.”
She pushes away from me and after a few more seconds of holding her tightly, I let her go. She storms out without another word, wrapping a towel around her perfect body and leaving her bloodied dress on the floor. I have half a mind to call her back and explain how dangerous it is for her to wander back into Luca’s territory, but I stay quiet as she leaves. I know Isabelle is oblivious to Luca and anything to do with his business, and the less she knows, the better. She could mistakenly slip up with a single conversation with her brother.
My head rests against the tile, more tired than I’ve ever felt. Now I know why my father always seemed to cower at the wrath of my mother, even though I've seen him stare death in the eyes. A smile graces my lips, knowing I’m going to find Isabelle and fuck the angry out of her.
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