Chapter 23 Declan #2
I leave some treats for him, and turn off the light, giving him his room back.
Molly’s holding Clawzilla outside the door. “I think your cat wanted to eat Pepper.”
“No, probably wants to play. Clawzy’s smart. He knows that parrot might be more than he can chew.” I scratch behind the cat’s ears. I look at her. “I need to talk with my brothers. Go to bed, Molly.”
I kiss her softly.
“And don’t hate you?”
I did say that to her, and I sigh. “You can do what you fucking want.”
She nods and turns, letting the cat jump down from her arms to the floor.
I’m tired, but what I want is to get whatever my brothers want to meet about over with and go to sleep.
“I fed the animals.”
Well, fuck. Her coppery eyes are huge, her mouth soft and inviting and vulnerable, and my cock gets instantly hard. I want to wrap her in my arms and then fuck her senseless, like the torture blowjob didn’t happen.
I kiss her, and walk her to the sofa, wanting to push her down. Instead, I breathe in her floral scent. “I want to go down on you right now. Fuck…”
“Declan…”
I don’t even think, I slide down to my knees and push up her dress, and kiss my way across her pelvic bone to her clit. She’s so pretty everywhere, and she tastes even better.
Molly’s more than that, though, she’s like…a beacon, my calling. I wish I could tie her up, push her into a chair so I could crawl under a desk and eat her out. Torture her the same way she did me only a little while ago.
I lick her clit, liking how in lieu of ropes or ties or a chair, she’s tied down, anyway. By my body. She holds herself steady, her fingers twisting in my hair as I kiss and nip and suck.
I nudge apart her legs, enough so I can run my fingers up her thigh and tease her wet cunt’s entrance.
Somewhere a voice is cawing on about tits, Zulus, and how fucking brilliant this is.
I want her to come fast. No, I want her to be tortured by my touch, I want her teetering on the edge, her body succumbing to me.
This girl is everything, from that sweet taste of her, to her wicked mouth and shining inner light.
Right now, all I want is her filling my mouth so I lick into her as much as I can, sliding my tongue up to her clit and the damn bird shouts, “Going down! Going down!”
“Oh, my God, oh, God…” She pants, trembling as her orgasm builds.
I use my fingers slightly faster now, curling them as I fuck her with my tongue and suck harder on her clit.
She bucks, her pussy crushing my fingers and her juices spurt onto my tongue as she cries out. “Yes!”
But I don’t stop. I keep going and she fights me. It’s too much, I know it is. The tiny throbs in her clit bloom once more, and my other hand wraps around her ass, holding her steady even as she tears at my hair.
I kiss her gently, then slowly remove my fingers as the last tremors pass.
“Fuck, Molly,” I whisper, getting up and pulling her into my arms. “That was…”
“Revenge?” Her voice is strangled. “What do you want from me? I…”
All of her. That’s what I want. I want her to go from her controlling mother and into a life controlled by what and who I am, her by my side, under me, on top of me. Mine. I want her to be mine, and I don’t even know why.
We need to talk, but not right now. I have to find her father for her, fulfill that promise. I don’t give a shit about her mam. Just her.
But any talk will be long, and any fair discussion needs to result in me letting her walk out the door and spreading those pretty wings and seeing how far and high she can fly.
I have to let her go.
And right now, I don’t have the space or the time for that discussion. I need to meet my brothers in the study.
“Go to bed, Marlowe.”
Hurt greets me, raw and exposed in her eyes.
“Molly—”
But she stumbles backward.
She opens her mouth, then snaps it closed and turns. She runs up the stairs without a look back and my heart clenches.
“Fucking eejit,” Pepper says.
“Couldn’t agree more,” I tell him.
I get the gun and make my way to Cal’s study.
The room’s full of smoke, the window open, and Cal hands Roark the cigarette he just took a puff from.
“You took yer time and no, I don’t want to know.” Seamus takes the gun, studying it. “Why the fuck does Marcello want this?”
“Sentimental value?” I shrug. “There must be a reason. Maybe it’s full of diamonds.” I try to laugh at my own joke, but it’s hollow because all I can think of is the closer I come to finding Molly’s father, the closer she is to leaving me.
Going back to her life or moving on with a new one.
I hope she fucking cuts the strings with her mam. I hope she soars high into her own life.
But it’s not my place to make that decision.
Torin walks in, his computer in hand, open “That gun is evidence, I think, in a murder.” He doesn’t look up from the screen. “One that’ll crack open a decades-old cold case.”
“And get a lot of mafia and cartel arrested,” adds Roark, the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth as he stares at an iPad.
I blow out a breath. “So it’s nothing to do with Marlowe’s da?”
“Not that we can work out. It has everything to do with a cartel and mafia deal gone wrong. Roja and Marcello, a long time ago. A guy they were both playing is dead and millions went missing. The gun is evidence and could be used as a bargaining chip.” Torin looks at me.
“The gun’s the key to the case. And I’m guessing there are people who’ll kill for it… ” He nods at the gun.
“Which’ll only be important if it reaches the right hands, and those hands reopen the case,” Roark says, putting the iPad down and holding out his hand.
“So it’s more likely to be a blackmail chip between different organized crime sides.
Whoever has it can command money, land. Or bring down the other. ”
Seamus hands it over to him.
“What? Is it like the ring?” I ask.
They look at me.
I roll my eyes. “As in Lord of the…?”
“No, dipshit,” Torin says. “It’s a tool.”
“A stupid one,” I mutter. “Bringing down someone would require that so-called dead cop.”
“These people know the dead often don’t stay dead, not unless you saw that person die. We know that. If you physically bury someone, you’ll know. Otherwise, all bets are off.” Roark says. “Besides, a bargaining chip doesn’t provide actual power. It just needs people to believe it does.”
And I can’t help but think of the shoot-out in Maspeth, and the people who stormed in. The dead shit was doing drugs, but what if Roja thought Milo had something and had been staking the place out for the missing gun?
“Cal,” I say, “maybe Mario wanted a new start? So he stole the gun and our drugs, then tried to trade them with the gun? Or for the gun, like Gregor’s place was Milo’s hiding spot?”
“Could be,” Roark mutters. “The drugs ended up there and Mario was sloppy with the gun.”
“How do you know that?” I ask. “That’d be like betraying his brother.”
“Do you care, Dec?” Cal asks.
I guess I do. Because I believed Milo loves his brother. I could see him being a man of his word. If he isn’t, then Marlowe is still at risk…
“More likely,” Cal says, “Mario didn’t know what he had. Maybe that shoot-out you stumbled on in Queens was about the gun. Maybe not. But it’s clear both parties know the gun is out there, so we take it out of the equation. It’s lost, gone, and we bury it. Destroy it.”
“We could use it,” Seamus says.
Cal takes in everyone’s faces. “I don’t buy leeway. I keep away from blackmail. If it’s about power, I earn it. Roark is going to help Milo find his brother and we will destroy that gun. Make sure both sides know it’s gone.”
“Like a ceremony?” I ask. “So they know for sure?”
Tor nods slowly. “Could that work, Cal?”
“I don’t want to be fucking involved in any of this shit, but if it gets Milo feeling like he owes us and Roja? That I don’t mind.”
“And we stop a potential war,” I say.
“About Molly’s da,” Roark says. “I’ve been looking further into him.
We know Heston’s a gambler, a womanizer who usually dealt with the mafia.
They tend to let the rich live if they get something from them.
Cartel…that’s a different story. They don’t tend to let people live like that. You owe, you pay, or die.”
“Would he be dumb enough to get in with the cartel?” I ask. “And now be in hiding because of it?”
Roark rubs his chin. “Don’t know, Dec.”
“The cartel isn’t known for leaving people alone if they want them dead. So he must still be useful to them. You think he played with both sides for gambling?” I ask.
Roark and my brothers exchange a look.
“He moves in idle rich circles that love the illegal boxing fights, dog fights, hell, rooster fights. It’s not pretty,” Torin says, “but Roark uncovered a connection Heston had to a Cinco Cartel fighting circuit.”
Cal stares at me. “Tonight. He discovered that tonight. That fucking cartel kid, you know the one…”
My blood turns cold. “Leon.”
“That’s him.”
Maybe that’s why he ran. To get free from his ties to the cartel.
“Wait…” Torin types on his computer. Then he looks at me. “Does Marlowe own a private island off the gulf?”
I gape. “Does she what—?”
“I just found something. I’ve dug into her parents’ accounts and there’s nothing, so I just decided to look at your girl’s accounts.
She gets paid from the ballet and also gets a small allowance, but there’s something else I dug up.
She had a huge amount put into her account at sixteen, and there was a purchase made with that exact amount.
” He hands his computer over to Roark, who puts down the gun and hands the cigarette to Cal before taking the computer. “What do you make of this? Am I right?”
“Fuck me sideways. Marlowe bought an island, or rather, someone bought it for her with money put in her account, on her sixteenth birthday. There’s a safe deposit box at a bank with the deed and information about when she supposedly gets it.”
“I’m betting that’s a gift from her loving da. The fucker.” And I’m thinking that’s where he is, and that his love for her has more of a guilt slant than anything unconditional. I want to take off there now and—
Someone screams and the house erupts in yowls and barks and howling cries.
We all run, guns at the ready, racing to the noise at the front door.
Raff is in his space rocket pajamas, bleeding from a scratch on his hand as Lola races out the door. Arnold has Raffy’s top in his teeth, growling, and Clawzilla’s on top of him.
Cal takes one look, sees that his kid is okay and takes off, gun drawn. So do Torin and Seamus.
My heart’s beating too fast and everything twists tight inside.
Lucie streaks down the stairs and grabs Raffy.
Ava appears with Natasha. Natasha runs upstairs at her mother’s order, and Ava runs out the door after Seamus with her own gun. Harriet wrangles the pets together.
Raff sobs, holding his scratched hand, and outside a cat yowls as a shot rings out, and the sound stops dead.
I run out the door, my heart on fire. Cal, Roark, and Ava are already outside, shooting at a plateless car as it roars off, tires squealing against the pavement.
“You get them?” shouts Tor, the only one without a weapon. “Anyone?”
Across the street, one of our men is dead. Ava runs over and shakes her head after checking the pulse.
“What the fuck!” I look around, my eyes wild, my pulse rocketing.
And then I see it.
Molly’s phone on the ground.
I grab it.
Everything slips sideways. Behind me, the chaos erupts farther in the house.
Lola. That fucking nasty ass alley cat took off after Molly to help. I know it like I know my own name.
Just like I know Clawzy and Arnold held Raffy back in the safe confines of the house. Clearly, Raff wanted to follow her.
The images of the kid at the door and the animals flash in my head.
Shit, did she leave the house because I sent her to fucking bed?
What the fuck is wrong with her?
My world implodes. The front door’s wide open. And she’s gone.
No. No, no. She didn’t just leave freely.
“Dec. Jesus, Dec!” Torin races up, holding a limp Lola. He’s covered in blood. “Get Seamus to take him to the fucking vet. The bastard in the car shot him.”
Reason slips to the edge of a cliff.
She didn’t run. Marlowe didn’t run.
She wouldn’t leave the front door open. She wouldn’t leave with Raffy right behind her. She wouldn’t leave without Lola.
Someone took her.
My phone buzzes. A text.
I look down at the screen and my blood turns to ice as a message from an unknown number pops up on my screen.
Your wife for her father’s location. Or you, if you prefer. Details to follow. – Leon Fuentes.
Leon Fuentes? What the fuck?
Is that the Leon? His last name is Garcia. That’s what Marlowe told me.
Son of a bitch has been circling her this whole time. Pretending to help. Gaining her trust.
Fear lances my heart.
“Dec?” Cal grabs my shoulder, turns me to face him. His eyes scan my face. “What is it?”
I show him the text.
His jaw goes tight. “Leon. The Leon?”
“Has to be. He’s got her.” The words taste like shit on my tongue. “He’s fucking got her.”
“We’ll get her back.” Cal’s voice is hard as steel. “Whatever it takes.”
I stare at the text.
Leon Fuentes is a dead man.
He just doesn’t know it yet.