FORTY-SIX
Harry
There are no suits or designer dresses for today’s assassination. Gigi and I are in black leathers, and she’s never looked more sensational. She’s like some sexy vigilante, with clothes that cling to her like a second skin, emphasising the dip of her waist and the shape of her thighs.
This is the first time we’ve been on a heist in weeks. Between the shows at Pixies and planning Gold House, we’re short on free time. I’m thankful to get out of the house, but the fact that all I want to do is rip those trousers clean off her skin has me restraining myself to the extent a vein might burst.
Richard doesn’t want our victims interrogated, so the job is relatively straightforward. What should be a downside is that we have to dispose of the bodies ourselves instead of using a clean-up crew … but when I see Gigi in the plastic apron, I’m close to combusting.
We sever the limbs of Antonio and Davide Gallo with the equipment we find in their basement. While I’m extracting the teeth of Antonio, ready to crush them into powder, Gigi pushes the right arm of Davide through the meat grinder. A gush of crimson sprays against her apron, assaulting her protective eye goggles, and fuck my life, the sight makes me as hard as nails.
Sick.
Crazy .
Obsessed.
It’s all the same when I think of her.
I know she was enticed by the glitz and the glamour, but I’d be lying if I said a part of me didn’t falter at the potential of her being corrupted. At the thought of what she could’ve been if I hadn’t introduced her to this life.
Having a mind of their own, my feet bring themselves over to her, and I wrap my arms around her waist underneath her apron, pressing delicate kisses to her neck. She hums in response, tilting her head back against my chest.
I slip my hands down to the insides of her thighs and up her legs until I’m pressing against her cunt.
“Harry,” Gigi whines, pressing her ass against me, feeling my growing erection.
I flip her around and sit her on the edge of the metal table beside Davide’s remaining limbs. I rip the apron clean from her body, along with her goggles and her T-shirt, freeing her of all restraints. Her breasts bounce free, and I catch her nipple in my mouth as I grind myself between her legs. Her whimpers are a symphony to my ears as I knead her other breast with my palm and pull away from her nipple with an audible pop.
“I need you,” she says, desperation evident in her voice.
“Then have me you shall, baby.”
Catching her mouth with mine, my eyes roll at the taste of her strawberry lip gloss, and our hands are suddenly frantic, freeing us of our remaining clothing. Before I know it, I’ve hooked my forearms around her creamy thighs and I’m thrusting into her. I drag her until her ass is perched on the edge of the counter, then I slam my hips into her again, reaching the hilt.
My balls start to tighten almost immediately, and I fight the need to release inside of her. I drop my hand to her clit and rub frantically with precision, bringing her up to speed. Her lips part, and she throws her head back.
“Oh God— ”
I grab her by the throat, and her eyes light up as I tighten my fingers. “What did I say about saying another man’s name during sex?”
My eyes drop to her neck, which I’ve accidentally tainted with blood. A normal man would be revolted by the idea. But I’d fucking kill him before he had the opportunity to have her like this.
I slide my hand higher up Gigi’s skin, until I’m gripping her chin. “Eyes on me.”
Our gazes clash, and I drop my head to hers as I hook her thigh up higher on my hip. My cock slams into her, and she grips my skin unforgivingly, her nails leaving tread marks on my chest.
We release together. I swallow her moans, never wanting anyone else to hear the sounds outside of her mouth except for me.
Spent, she sucks in lungfuls of air and leans back on her hands. “You never told me about your tattoos,” she says with bated breath.
I smile, pushing a strand of hair off my forehead, which is coated in sweat. I look down at myself and over the scattering of black ink that stretches from my lower torso to my chest.
“Anything specific you want to know?”
“I want it all when it comes to you.”
Fuck, this girl is everything.
Just looking at her, it’s a struggle not to smother her with affection.
Grinding my feet into the floor, I say, “We’ve got forever to talk about it, but since Davide’s limbs still need grinding, I’d say our time is relatively limited.”
She nods, having forgotten that detail, and then asks, “Why do they stop at your elbows? Why not cover your forearms too?”
I smile, expecting the question. “I’ll always be judged for the blood that stains my hands, but I guess a part of me hoped being a criminal wasn’t always in the cards for me. Whether we like it or not, tattoos have a stigma. If I ever want to cure my sanity by working an office job but I fail the interview, I’ll know nothing is predetermined. And I’m destined to be a killer. But don’t fool yourself, princess. Even if I’m ever behind a desk, I’ll always kill anyone who wrongs you. That’ll never change.”
Her sadness is quickly replaced by bashfulness as she rolls her eyes and shoves at my chest. I catch her wrist, twisting it and turning her palm over so I can place a kiss on her pulse.
Our lifeline.
If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve surely lost my sanity.
Before Gigi entered my life I was killing for sport. With each kill I felt the darkness clawing through me, ready to overwhelm, but she brings me back to the surface.
Christ, I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Searching day and night for a crumb that could lead me to the trafficking ring is driving me to the brink of insanity. Yet Gigi pulls me through every time. After I spent thirty hours straight traipsing through the footage in my home office, near numb when it amounted to nothing, hearing her voice was the grounding I needed to pull myself back together.
I’ve spent countless sleepless nights searching for the slightest indication the postcode the twins ratted out in East London is rotted with evil, but alas, nothing. The thought of innocent women being sold against their will makes me fucking murderous. And it isn’t something I’m going to allow to plague Gigi’s life.
Refusing to allow vanity to get to the head of the woman I’ve devoted my life to, I refuse to mention the symbol I got in honour of her. She’ll have flickered her eyes over the tribute without so much as knowing what it is, the light bulb shining through in a cascade of black.
My light in the darkness.
“We should get this all cleaned up,” she says, bringing me back down to earth .
Gigi finishes grinding Davide’s remaining limbs, and then, while she works on Antonio, I turn the pieces into meat-sized cubes and package them up accordingly. We throw the remainder of our clothes into the furnace and pack the meat into the boot of my Bentley. Once we’ve changed into fresh clothes, we drive to the house of a paedophile living in Kensington. I don’t tell Gigi he’s on my suspect list, giving her little information as she leaves the party gift on his doorstep, wearing a baseball cap to conceal her from any security cameras. We finish the night spreading the powder of Davide and Antonio’s teeth in the River Thames like ashes.
My eyes flicker over to Gigi from the driver’s seat, and I take a rare moment to appreciate her in the chaos while she sleeps. Through the craziness that is our life, I barely get the opportunity just to appreciate her at her most vulnerable.
Seeing her like this, lips parted and seemingly innocent, is my favourite. I do love to see her thrive, and believe me, she is. Everyone can see it. She’s climbing the ranks and would be giving Jack a run for his money if he were still around. Richard is beside himself with joy, and it makes me sick. I don’t fucking trust the fella, whether he’s my boss or not. And that’s excluding the fact we’ll be murdered for fraternising.
As the Bentley’s wheels move over the gravel of my driveway, Gigi’s eyes flicker open and she stretches out her limbs above her head.
“I thought you were dropping me back home.”
“This is your home.” I smile at her rolling her eyes. “I couldn’t cope with saying goodbye to you yet. Besides … I have a present for you.”
“For me?” Her eyes light up. “What is it?”
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now, would it?” I exit the car. Walking around to the passenger side, I open her door and offer her my hand. “It’s right here, if you want to see it.”
She grips my palm, a smile spreading across her cheeks as I lead her to the corner of the garage and pull off the cloth concealing her gift .
“You said you missed the Harley.”
Her pupils blow and her lips part as her gaze lands on the bike that’s near identical to mine. A Vivid Black Heritage Classic. It cost me just shy of thirty grand, but it was nothing in comparison to my adoration for her. A bouquet of twenty-four red roses sits alongside. A dedication to every hour of the day I spend admiring her.
“Harry, I meant yours!”
“Do you not like it?”
“Of course I like it!” she says, turning to me as tears fill her waterline. “But it’s too much.”
“It’s not enough.” I press my palms to her cheeks. My thumb catches a stray tear and I put it to my lips, relishing the taste as I say, “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you. I would burn the world for you if you asked.”
Her breathing turns shallow. “If you strike the match, we’ll watch it burn. Together.”
“Together.”
I take a selfish moment just to admire her beauty in the passing quiet. The sweeping of her eyelashes. The curve of her nose. The swell of her lips. Nodding towards the bouquet of flowers, I say, “You smell like roses. Do you know that?”
Her cheeks flush pink and she takes my hand, pressing her soft lips against my fingertips.
“I l—” She cuts herself off mid-sentence, her eyes slightly flared before she speaks softly. “Thank you.”
I slip my hands from her face and pick up the keys, as well as both helmets. “Do you want to take her for a spin?”
She nods excitedly, taking one of the helmets from my hand and slipping it on over her head. She takes the front seat and I sit behind her, showing her the brake, the gas, and the necessities to drive. She follows with the impression she has free rein. My palms cover the backs of her hands as we pull off, torn between the opportunity to touch her and making sure she’s comfortable.
The wind whips at her hair as the bike races down the streets. Her sweet scent of roses fills my senses, and I fight the urge to kiss her skin. As one of my hands stays sturdy on the brake, my other runs up the inside of her thigh. Her protest is hidden by the onslaught of the wind, and I smirk at her attempts.
When we reach a red light she pulls up her visor. “Do you want us to crash?”
“Maybe,” I say, pulling up mine to meet her eye. “Eternity with you does sound appealing.”
Her eyes have barely finished rolling before I’ve revved the gas and we’re off again. I rest one hand on the accelerator, pulling down our visors with my spare hand to help keep stability on the road.
We spend an hour roaming the streets lit with streetlamps, the roads fairly quiet, save for the odd car and red-top bus. She becomes more relaxed throughout the drive, leaning back into my embrace and relishing the rare time we have together.
When the clock strikes twelve and my princess needs to go home, we pull into my garage and Gigi stalls the engine as we draw to a stop. I help her tug off her helmet, and the burnt rubber scent now ingrained in her hair makes my abdomen tighten with desire. The wind has whipped colour onto her cheeks and blown her brown hair into disarray.
“I have a question,” she says.
I pull off my helmet and cock a brow.
“When I first met you, why did you always come to Greg’s house for the most ridiculous reasons?”
I pause for a beat and then smile, telling her the truth. “I just wanted to see you. There was no reason.”
She laughs, and the sound is fucking beautiful. Her eyes crease, her expression part shock yet far from surprise. “So you didn’t really need rice and eggs?”
“No, baby. I just needed you.”