Poisoned Promise (Mafia Lords of Sin #15)

Chapter 1

DOVE

Heat cascades through me in a wave, surging in my chest and trickling down through my body, following the path of his warm lips.

He kisses a lazy path and I track him with my mind’s eye, following every caress of his fingers and sweet, soft press of his lips while painting a picture in my mind.

Calloused fingers stroke the side of my ribs and he kisses under the swell of my breasts, then down further into the dip of my abdomen.

Each kiss lingers with a warm, every so slightly dampness that tingles in the cold air that sweeps in to replace Felix as he continues down his path.

Over my abdomen, down around my navel, and further still until he’s nuzzling affectionately at my hip.

His lips press against the joint of bone and stay there while his hand caresses my thigh in soft circles.

I open my eyes, gazing down at his slick, black hair and the utter look of bliss resting across his handsome face.

All the lust in my chest pales to the surge of love that blooms the second he opens his eyes and locks onto me with those warm, chocolate-brown eyes.

“Baby,” Felix whines softly like a puppy. “You promised to keep your eyes closed.”

I did, didn’t I?

“I got impatient,” I murmur.

“The whole point of letting me take care of you is to lie back and let me take care of you.”

“You know my mind doesn’t switch off like that, I just need—!

” Every other word catches in my throat as Felix, in his mock-irritation at my rule-breaking, suddenly buries his face between my legs and thrusts his tongue against my pussy in half a second, robbing me of all sense in my thoughts and air in my lungs.

I throw my head back and grab the pillow behind my head, moaning low and sinking into the warm, tight pleasure that pulls slowly through my gut.

Felix eats like a man possessed, like every lap of his tongue and gentle suckle of his lips is going to be the last taste of me he’ll ever have.

He buries his face against me and wraps both of his hands under my ass and around my thighs while pulling me even closer to his face.

Firm licks, soft licks, patterns back and forth, and circles over my clit until I’m trembling and gasping for air.

I’m butter in his hands, rocking my hips down against his chin and chasing each attentive stroke of that devilish tongue until I can’t take it anymore and I clench my thighs around his head.

As always, he takes that as his cue and suddenly focuses all attention on flat, long licks of his tongue against my clit, rhythmic and careful.

He focuses slightly to the side of my clit where pleasure builds the hottest and it’s his way of telling me he wants me to cum as much as I do.

It’s too much.

I’m burning up on the inside, drenched in light sweat with my heart racing and molten-hot pleasure pooling directly between my legs.

I’m so close.

He always gets me so close so quickly and I’m—

“—can’t relate to desperation! My give-a-fucks are—”

What the fuck?

A burst of song bursts to life around me.

One minute I’m on the brink of an amazing, intense orgasm, the next I’m blearily staring at the fuzzy numbers of an alarm clock next to my bed, wrapped so tightly in my bed sheets that sweat dots my brow and my hair clings irritatingly to the back of my neck.

The neon clock glares back at me.

02:42 am.

What the… a dream?

I blink and unstick my tongue from the roof of my dry mouth, then roll to one side and bite back a moan as my sticky thighs remind me just how good that dream was.

Fuck.

I haven’t dreamt of Felix in… years. Holy shit.

My heart races as if Felix was just here, buried between my thighs and pressed against my aching core, but as the song continues to blare, the echo washes away any lingering warmth that dream left behind.

Groaning, I wrestle against the tight wrap of the bedsheets and finally free one of my arms, then I blindly throw my hand at my bedside dresser seeking out the source of the song.

“Hello?” I’m barely awake, eyes too blearily to read who’s calling at this early in the morning, and I’m tired enough that sleep weighs my eyes closed as an unfamiliar voice busses in my ear.

“Hi there, I’m looking for Ms. Dove James?”

“This is she,” I reply with a wide yawn. “If this is some kind of sales call, I’ll make sure you’re out of a job by lunchtime.”

“Ms. James, I’m calling about your son, Alex.”

All hint of tiredness leaves me in an instant and I bolt upright, gazing through the darkness of my room to my bedroom door that sits ajar. “What?”

“Your son, Alex? Am I speaking to Dove?”

“I already said you were!” I snap, frantically kicking my bedsheets away from my legs and leaping from the bed. “I don’t understand why you’re calling me about my son at three in the fucking morning!”

The door hinge squeals as I wrench open the door and sprint down the short hallway toward the closed door of my son’s bedroom.

I get there and open the door to emptiness just as the voice continues and my pounding heart plummets into my gut like a rock.

“Ms. James, I’m calling from Laiten General. I’m afraid there’s been a car accident.”

“Where is he?!”

A stunned young woman with oval glasses and pink lipstick that’s far too bright for a hospital gazes back at me in alarm as I slam both my hands down onto the desk with such force that my bag dislodges from my shoulder and catches on my elbow.

“My son!” I yell again. “Where is my son?!”

“Y-Your son?”

“Yes! Alex James. He’s fourteen and I got a call telling me he was in a car accident—!”

All the air in the room suddenly vanishes and a strangled gasp rips past my lips.

The moron who called me refused to give me details over the phone, leaving me to drive here and break a hundred rules of the road just to arrive here within twenty minutes.

My thoughts clash together, a cacophony of horror stories and pain to explain how my fourteen-year-old son, who went to bed before I did, has somehow ended up in a car accident at three in the morning.

“Ms. James?” A voice rises from behind me and I spin around abruptly, facing a tall, plump woman with a warm smile that bounces off the tight curl of worry between her brows. “Dove James?”

“That’s me. Please, where is Alex? Someone tell me what the fuck is going on?!”

She doesn’t even flinch at my curse. The doctor adjusts her white coat and tilts her head.

“Follow me,” she says, stepping away from the desk and as soon as I fall in step beside her, she continues speaking.

“Your son was brought in approximately ten minutes before you were called. He’s alive, don’t worry. ”

Those words are like a prayer and yet they don’t ease the overwhelming tightness within my chest.

“He arrived with another boy, Michael? He’s currently in—.”

“I don’t care about Michael,” I snap. “What happened to my son?!”

“He was pulled from a car wreck. He’s a little banged up and bruised and he did break his arm, so we’ll need the details of your insurance as soon as you can provide them. Someone from Social Services will also be paying you a visit.”

“Social Services?” I stop dead while the doctor keeps walking to the next door and lays her hand on the handle.

“Of course,” she replies with a smile. “Two fourteen-year-old boys were joyriding in the middle of the night. There will be some tough questions to answer.”

Shit.

Social Services is one thing but something like this?

She hasn’t said it but I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s already called the cops.

That faint shadow that exists in the eye of someone who thinks I’m a bad mother, a terrible parent for being unable to keep control of my teenage son, who, in his infinite wisdom, has decided that pushing the boundaries of our carefully crafted existence is the smartest thing he can do.

I brush past her and into the room where the sight of my son, Alex, sitting up in bed, finally eases a fraction of the tightness in my chest.

“Alex!”

“Mom!” He lifts his brown eyes to mine and they immediately flood with tears. “I’m so sorry!”

“What the hell were you thinking?!” I snap loudly, causing the nurse working on Alex’s cast to flinch in fright. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Oh my god!” Rushing forward, I reach his bedside and draw him tightly into my arms while my heart punches up into my throat.

He’s alive.

He’s alive and that’s all that matters.

“I’m sorry,” Alex wails. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Cradling him close, pain clogs my throat so I don’t speak and instead gaze up at the off-white tiles on the ceiling.

A hundred questions rush through my mind and worry clashes with anger that threatens to boil over, but underneath there’s an undercurrent of hopelessness.

These past couple of years, Alex has really thrown himself into his troublesome teens.

Fighting at school, skipping class, stealing from the market and now this?

Parenting doesn’t come with a handbook and having no one to lean on means all of this?

It’s my fault.

Alex’s tears soak into my shirt, and I hold him close while the nurse finishes dressing the cast and quickly explains that we’ll need to be back in a few weeks for a check-up.

Then she leaves with the doctor, and as silence weighs heavily in the room, I draw back from Alex and sit on the edge of the bed.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Alex mutters, his face darkening now that his initial tears of fear and upset had subsided.

“Which part? Sneaking out in the middle of the night? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

“No!” He protests. “We were just joyrid—.”

“Joyriding?!” Anger fizzes beneath my ribs and I stand abruptly, pacing away from his bed. “Are you fucking kidding me Alex? Do you have any idea how terrifying it was to wake up to that call and find you gone?”

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” he mutters.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have crashed the fucking car then, should you?”

“I didn’t! Michael was driving!”

“Do you think that makes this okay?!” I point at him and my heart breaks.

A broken right arm.

Bruises all down one side of his face and multiple small cuts and lacerations likely from broken glass. “Look at you, Alex! I thought you’d died—!”

My voice breaks and I briefly cover my mouth to hold in the sob.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says weakly. “It was only supposed to be a bit of fun.”

“A bit of fun,” I repeat with a whisper. “Alex, do you have any idea what—.”

“Ms. James?” A deeper voice from the doorway interrupts my rant and I spin on the spot.

“Yes?”

A man walks into the room, letting the door close softly behind him. Dressed in black slacks, worn shoes, and a blue shirt, he sniffs deeply as he looks me up and down, but as soon as he tries to look at Alex, I immediately block his line of sight with my body.

Tension prickles in the air and every muscle down my back tightens as the man shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small leather wallet, briefly flashing me his I.D.

“I’m Detective Bolton. Now that you’re here, I want to ask Alex a few questions about the car he stole.”

Stole?!

This just gets better and better.

A pulse of hopelessness warms my chest but it pales to the alertness running through my body like an electric current.

I’ve done everything in my power to stay under the radar, to be a quiet, undisturbed member of society but now there’s a cop in front of me and one wrong step will send my carefully crafted life back into hell.

“Now isn’t a good time,” I reply. “Can I take your card and call you tomorrow? Alex needs rest.”

“No.”

My stomach tightens. “No?”

“No. You see, your son and his little friends stole a car, raced it around the city, and then crashed it into a storefront. The damages alone will be enough to wipe out anything you have saved for his tuition, never mind the scar on his reputation.” Bolton sniffs again as if something is lodged in the back of his throat. “And yours.”

“Mine?” I arch one brow. “I’m a beautician. I can’t imagine a car accident will affect my business. Please, leave.”

“You think this was just an accident?” Bolton steps forward and I widen my stance.

“Your son is a thief. He stole from someone, someone who is very pissed at what the destruction of that car means for him. And what’s bad for his business will be bad for everyone else’s business, so let me tell you this, I don’t care if you’re a beautician or an EMT.

There’s a debt now that needs to be paid. ”

He walks the walk and carries the card but calling this bastard a cop is a disservice to all else who carry that badge.

“So you’re a little guard dog barking from the ankle of a Master,” I reply coolly. “My answer doesn’t change. You’re not talking to my son.”

“That’s fine.” Bolton surges forward and grabs my arm, twisting my wrist as he wrenches me close.

“Mom!” Alex’s cry from behind me ignites the intense, burning desire to tap into my old skills and break this man’s neck for even touching me, but the last thing I need is to escalate this more.

“Let go of me!”

“Listen here, bitch. I’m here to get payment, you understand? So you and me are going to take a little walk while my friend outside plays nice with your son and then—.”

A rough cough from outside the door is the only warning Bolton gets because a second later, the doctor from before hurries through the door.

“Excuse me!” she barks as Bolton steps away from me, leaving my wrist burning. “You can’t be in here, Detective! I already told you to wait until visiting hours.”

Who knew that judgmental doctor would end up helping me? I step back from Bolton and watch anger flash across his face, then he relaxes his expression and turns to the doctor.

“My mistake. I heard his mother was here so I thought I would try my luck.”

“Out!” The doctor barks. “Ms. James, I am so sorry for the intrusion.”

I wave her off, glaring at the back of Bolton as he exits the room.

Fuck.

Who the hell did Alex steal that car from?”