Chapter 4 Brax
Brax
Inhaling, I bask in her natural musk, trying desperately to merge it with my own.
Mine.
The overly controlling and possessive side of me wars with the rational one that knows in five more minutes, I’ll have to take the guy out of the trunk and drop him and the car back to the rendezvous.
To see her in that silky dress that did nothing to hide her perfectly supple and perky breasts, ripe for sucking nipples.
My cock tightens in my pants, and I know I’m going to jerk off to her a few times tonight. But this time I won’t be alone.
Excitement for later has me speeding through the streets of Darien, Connecticut. I’m fifteen minutes from the scheduled checkpoint.
The Ring’s Edge Bridge comes into view, and I slow to a stop. Without checking my watch, I know I’m almost out of time.
Hopping out of the car, I stride to the trunk and pop it open, grateful to see the driver still knocked out.
Then he’s over my shoulder and buckled in the seat.
Poor bastard will have a hell of a headache, but he won’t remember anything else.
And I don’t have to worry about him blabbing about the missing time because he’s already on thin ice.
I take a final perusal of the scene, ensuring I didn’t leave any evidence of foul play. Satisfied that nothing’s out of place, I jog over the bridge and down the trail to my bike.
The engine roars to life, and I have to fight the urge to pull out my cell and track her. Finding a modicum of self-restraint, I smirk, remembering what I saw dangling from her wrist. I didn’t think my little fox would keep the charm bracelet.
Sliding my helmet on, I replay tonight’s events as I take off. The mission was essentially a gift for Keres, but someone fucked it up.
My body moves with the curve of my bike along I-95 before the Welcome to New York sign comes into view. I’ll be home in another fifteen or twenty minutes, give or take.
Replaying the information Haruki briefed me on before I left, this should’ve been a cakewalk kill.
So what went wrong?
“Call Haruki,” I command, and it barely rings before he answers.
“Did you drink her bath water?” he jests.
Rolling my eyes, I retort, “I will.”
Haruki bursts into peals of laughter. “You’re too far gone, aniki. Soon you’ll be picking out matching outfits for your pets.”
“Fuck you,” I rebut, biting my cheek to prevent me from joining in. Lord knows if it were him or any one of my men, I would give them hell. Shit. I already have in the past.
He pauses, and more cackling comes through the speakers, tempting me to hang up. “You already have.”
“Something wrong with me matching my woman?” I challenge.
Snorting, he replies, “Does she know that you bought an ocelot and named it Lyssa after her code name when she’s out in the field?”
I internally smirk. Lyssa is the perfect name for my Goddess of Rage, but I’m not explaining myself to this idiot.
“Fuck off, asshole. I can’t wait until it’s your turn. I’ll repay your five generations for the kindness you bestowed upon me today.”
Any other time, I might have worried about being tracked or overheard, but Haruki has everything more secured than the doomsday bunker the rich have hidden in the hills.
So even though he’s acting like a petulant seven-year-old younger brother, he’s also the tech god.
People pay trillions to try to buy their way into being his apprentice, but that spot is forever occupied.
“Okay, out with it,” I order, and he gasps, trying to catch his breath.
He gets in one more chuckle before he clears his throat. “He wasn’t tipped off. The fuckers just took a liking to Senator Rourke’s daughter.”
I grind my teeth, knowing what he’s going to say.
“So the Senator, being the father of the year that he is, offered up his fourteen-year-old daughter in exchange for the Small Business Association’s support for his bid for Governor.”
My brain must have misfired because there’s no way he said, fourteen… father…for a bid.
“Run that by me again, please.”
“The poor excuse for a human being, much less of a father, sex trafficked his underage daughter out to be raped in order to win the bid to be the Governor of Texas.”
My heart lurches out of my chest, but I listen to every detail. If I miss anything, I run the risk of not keeping Tati safe from the assholes hunting her.
“So—”
My words cut off.
“The nut who should’ve been jerked into the trash can sent his guards to ensure his “precious princess” isn’t hurt too badly or killed. Hence, the increased detail that fucked up your woman’s shot at exterminating the slimy slum landlord,” Haruki states.
Images of Emi in the hands of some monster—drugged and confused, wishing to be home.
Passing the sensor, my gate opens, and I hit the route to my underground garage.
Failure gnaws through the lining of my stomach, shouting all my inadequacies through a bullhorn as they’re displayed on a New York City Times Square billboard.
My sister is dead because I wasn’t vigilant.
My sister is dead because I couldn’t save her.
My sister is dead because I’m a failure.
The beep of the garage opening snaps me out of my pity party.
“You still with me, Shinigami?”
God of Death
The name is fitting considering the abundance of lives I’ve taken—the abundance still left to be reaped.
I’m no Batman. He cared about the betterment of people.
Me? I could give negative twenty fucks about anything that doesn’t impact me and mine.
Parking my bike, I take off my helmet and switch to my earbuds. “I know you have more, Haruki. So, spit it out.”
“Chill, mon capitaine. I need to verify that the information I’m about to provide is accurate.”
All the possibilities swirl before me.
Is this the same group that took my sister?
How does a no-name slumlord get access to such a powerful group that a U.S. Senator is willing to pimp his daughter?
As if he can anticipate my questions, Haruki states, “Keres’s backup team exterminated everyone except the daughter. Their other team intercepted Senator Rourke. If there’s hope in the world, he won’t leave there alive.”
Humming my agreement, I imagine all the ways Tati will be involved, and my cock stiffens.
Now is not the time to get a hard-on, asshat.
Does my dick care, though? Not in the slightest.
Adjusting myself, I listen as Haruki continues. “This is tied to Serge Volkov.” There’s a pregnant pause before he speaks again. This time, more somber. “It was a setup from the outset.”
My ears perk— my body taut. I know the words before he says them.
“They were after your girl.”
“They were after my girl.”
We speak in blurred unisonance. Neither version—what I want to hear. But it does confirm what I already know. Tati is in danger.
The blood in my veins turns to ice. Crisp fall breeze—lashes like a whip as I make sense of his words.
I knew he would be connected. There isn’t a sex or organ trafficking ring he’s not directly or indirectly running. I was holding out hope that Tati wasn’t on their radar.
Mind scattered—I end the call, but not before giving Haruki specific instructions to ensure Tati’s safety. I will kidnap her and lock her in a tower on a deserted island, unknown to Google Maps.
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I kick off my shoes, replacing them with house slippers before heading to the living room to greet my parents.
“You look tired.” My mother’s concerned gaze bores a hole into my skin, tracking every potential problem visible to the naked eye.
“I’m good, Mom. It’s just been a very long day,” I offer, kissing her cheek.
I wave to my father, and the look he gives me says he’s going to mention marriage.
“We need to talk, Braxton. Have a seat, son,” he instructs, and my filial piety toward my family is at odds with my obsession—the only woman I’ll ever allow to carry the ōshiro name and continue the bloodline.
Sitting across from him, I cross my legs and lean forward, waiting for him to continue. “How is the investigation going?”
The tension gripping me ebbs, and my shoulders relax. Not because my sister’s death isn’t important.
My brain is just too fatigued to have to verbally spar with my parents on this issue.
They want to fulfill a promise—a blood oath between comrades—that should anything happen, my father’s friend’s daughter would be protected.
“There aren’t any new viable leads, but I do get to kill the fuckers who killed her very soon.”
Nodding, he rubs his stubbled chin. “Good. Very good. Emi deserves justice, and those animals deserve a dishonorable demise.” My father’s gaze bores into mine, emphasizing the dishonorable portion of his words.
He wants their innards pulled from their mouths and their spines ripped through their asses slowly, pushing them past the point of madness.
“Once things are wrapped up here, your mother and I need to go to Japan,” he states, pausing to the point of discomfort.
My fists clench and release at my sides as I try to anticipate what he’ll say next. “Is this a trip you need me on?” I question, hoping he says no. That amount of distance from Tati would lead to senseless deaths to cool my ire.
“Not just yet. There are a few things we need to get in order before you meet your wife,” my father announces, and there’s no wiggle room for an argument.
I fight hard not to be outright disrespectful by telling him it’ll never happen. Such behavior would be a direct challenge to the household rules. “Can you tell me anything about her?” I ask, instead of blurting out the millions of no freaking ways swirling on the tip of my tongue.
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ll be getting married soon.” The stern set of his jaw, as his brown eyes narrow and his nostrils semi-flare, ends this particular conversation.
I’ll play his game for now, but the only woman who will ever be wrapped around my dick is my little fox.
Nodding, I excuse myself. After nothing worked out the way I planned, I need to wash the day off me, but desperately want to keep her scent mixed with mine.
An idea hits me straight in my dick.
Bypassing the shower, I breeze through my bedroom door and down the steps to my movie room.
I need to see every detail of her delectable body.
Kicking off my slippers, I strip down to my boxer briefs, leaving me bared-chested except for the platinum barbed-wire chain around my neck. Then, I climb onto the king-size, pillow-top sofa bed, propping myself up on the pillows, and turn on the wall-to-wall television screen.
Once I’m comfortable, I check the time. Talia should be in her room in about five to seven minutes. After not being able to expel her pent-up energy, my little fox is going to need serious relief, and I plan to witness every moment of it.
Her intoxicating scent emanates from my air freshener, misting the room, and I have to fight the urge to pump my semi-hard dick.
“Deputy Chief Zachary Wailin,” Tati hisses as her image appears on the screen.
Leaning back, I watch as she prances around half-naked.
She’s flawless.
There’s not an inch of her that would change.
The scar that runs down the back of her left thigh.
The stretch marks—her tiger stripes—that curve around her hips to her delectable ass.
When you add her penchants for violence and the means to back it up—Goddess-level perfection.
“I see you, little fox. Show me that pretty fucking pussy,” I groan, watching as she sets the jar with that racist fuckers head in it right in front of her crimson Tantra Chair. I spend moments admiring the customization she made to fit her needs.
“Fuck… fuck… fuck,” I mutter when the mechanical dick rises from the hole in the couch.
All semblance of control exits stage left, and my dick is pissed we only get to watch.
“Soon,” I coo, stroking the length of him. Because it’s not a matter of if I’ll have Tati—it’s a matter of when. She’ll be mine, and no one can take her from me ever.
Tati moves with the precision and grace of the trained assassin she is. All her supplies gathered, she slips down her lace boyshorts, meeting the eyes of the dead deputy chief and winks.
I knew she’d find the camera in his eyes without any real effort. She’s too efficient to bring just anything back to Keres HQ.
“Yes, Tati, put on a show for me,” I whisper, hoping she hears my wish through the camera.
Grabbing the lube and a mini finger vibrator, her hips sway with each step, and I become more entranced.
“I’ll cut down any fucker who even bats an eyelash in your direction,” I exclaim—the declaration a claiming. Whether she’ll be compliant is the fun part of the chase.
“Why buy a woman flowers when you can give her heads?” she confesses, grinding down the shaft of the dildo and rolling her hips once it’s fully seated inside her.
She throws her head back and moans, “Do you like the way I’m taking your dick, B?”
Goner—totally owned. I don’t care what that makes me as long as it makes her mine and me hers.
Tati’s back bows, giving better access to the way the dildo is fucking her. She shifts to one palm on the couch with the other placing her mini vibrator against her clit—my pussy… my clit.
Her head falls back, and I stroke my dick to match her pace, wishing like fuck I had a pocket pussy molded just like hers, and she can replace whoever’s dildo that is with one fashioned after mine. Then we can fuck each other at all times.
Pre-cum leaks from the crown of my dick as I pump harder, tightening my grip like her pussy would.
“Do you like how dirty I am for you?” she whines, thrusting her hips as she bounces up and down the shaft. “Do you like it when I’m a dirty fucking slut?”
“Yes, that’s right. Be my dirty girl. Fuck me like you mean it,” I grunt with each stroke. My balls tighten, and I’m going to need to gain better control of myself because there’s no fucking way I’m not coming with her.
When my gaze rises again, she’s turned around, her ass on full display. She controls the tempo, and I can only imagine her bouncing that fat, juicy ass on my dick, her pussy swallowing me whole while gripping until we’re forever fused as one.
My pumps become erratic, and I know I’m going to blow my load before she comes. And for that, she’ll be punished.
Tati turns, those hazel green eyes peering back at me as she raises until the dildo is entirely out of her before slamming down with a force that makes my balls draw even tighter.
“I live for your back shots. You’re pounding me so hard. Fuck,” she whimpers. “Fuck, B. I wish I really were riding that cock like you let me ride your face. Taking each brutal stroke of that fat dick while you paint my insides, branding me as yours.”
“Ahh shittt! Fuck” I groan as ropes of cum shoot down my leg, and I imagine it’s all over Tati’s face.
I pump through my orgasm, ready for more when her cries fill the room, my name upon her lips.
Leaning back against the pillows, I mumble, “Heads instead of flowers. Noted it.”