31. Callahan
THIRTY-ONE
callahan
I shoot the bastard in the chest, just to the right of his heart.
The vile fuck was about to shoot my Lucie, so I shot him first.
What I really want to do is kill him, but not yet.
He doesn’t deserve for death to come quickly.
He deserves torture and torment.
Excruciatingly painful shit.
O’Sullivan stumbles and crashes onto the cement floor.
I drive my foot into him, then stomp on his hand, the satisfying snap of bones reaching my ears as I kick his gun away with my other foot.
Then I rush to Lucie, who’s crumpled in a ball.
“Hey, Lucie Joy, love, it’s me. Are you okay?”
I tenderly turn her toward me, every inch of my being brimming with violence and hatred for the fucker behind me.
The other men are dead and Seamus will be at the door in another second or so.
I spare one quick glance back at Paddy, noting the large red stain soaking the center of his shirt and the discarded bloody knife on the floor .
“Christ, Lucie, did you stab him?”
She looks at me and my blood turns to ice.
Her face is bruised and already swollen.
As I wipe away the blood from her nose and a gaping cut on her cheek, I can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’m okay. Are you?”
A harsh laugh breaks free.
“I don’t fucking care about me.” My gaze goes to her bruised thigh, clearly visible through the rip in her dress.
The top of it is ripped, too.
“Did the cunt touch you?”
She shakes her head.
“I’m… good.”
I shield her and hold her close, then kiss the top of her head.
I never want to let her go.
But I know I need to.
“Seamus?”
“Yeah, Cal? Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there, fuckface, oops, kicked you again,” he says.
I don’t need to look to see he’s put the boot into O’Sullivan again.
“Take Lucie out to the car.”
“Clive’s on his way.”
I nod.
“And call cleanup.”
“No,” she says, “Callahan, please don’t?—”
“Hush, Lucie Joy,” I say.
“I told you I’m a bad man. I’m all the things you’ve seen and heard about me, even more. I don’t want you here for this. Go, Seamus. Take her.”
He leads her out and I loom over O’Sullivan.
“Before I fucking make you suffer until your last breath, you and I are going to have a little talk…”
When we get home, I strip Lucie, kissing every inch of her exposed skin.
I carry her over to the bed and lay her in the center of the mattress, then suck gently on her bruised breasts, kissing and licking each nipple before I make my way lower, pulling off her boy shorts.
I graze my lips over the bruises on her thighs and finally, I make my way to her sweet pussy, spending time between her legs, tonguing her folds until she comes apart in my mouth, over and over.
Her clit pulsates and throbs, swelling, and she goes stiff, shaking as she comes.
Then I move up over her and kiss her bruised cheek before capturing her lips in a slow, romantic kiss.
“If anything happened to you, Lucie,” I whisper, “I’d never forgive myself.”
“I’m just happy you’re okay. Is he… is he…?”
I swallow.
There are things I can’t tell her, things about the conversation I had with Paddy that I have to confirm.
And she doesn’t need to know the terrible, horrible things I did to him.
Things he deserved.
More importantly, she doesn’t need to know how her plunge of the knife was a slow death knell.
She doesn’t need that on her conscience.
Not my Lucie Joy.
“He’s fucking dead and you’re alive and safe.”
“Are you going to start a war?”
“No one to war with.” That I know of.
Maybe there’s a family member or two who’d care, but he wasn’t enough of an integral part of the Osinov Bratva to call for a battle.
“It’s over. And right now, I don’t want to think about him. I want to immerse myself in you.”
“I thought you were going to make me suffer.”
I think about it as I start to slowly finger her.
“Consider your punishment complete.”
Then I kiss her and remove my hand.
I guide my cock to her wet slit and push slowly into her, reveling in the stretch and how she welcomes me, each rung of my ladder pushing into her, making her moan and gasp.
This time I don’t take her hard or dirty; I just lose myself in her.
Each deep plunge massages my cock, and she lifts her hips for deeper access.
I set a slow rhythm, one that lets us go for a long, blissful ride.
She wraps her legs around me, and each thrust is like coming home, connecting with her in a way that’s not just flesh entering flesh or her hot, wet folds clinging to me.
It’s something else, something reaching deep down into me and making me fly.
We start to move faster, the slapping of flesh, hot kisses and moans, it all makes me unravel.
My God, she really is made for me.
Every single part. Her tight cunt takes me balls deep, and she shudders each time I hit her spot.
I try and keep my movements steady, but soon my control breaks and I can feel her start to clench and spasm around me, so tight each time it’s fucking heaven.
The urge to come, to surge into release starts deep in my balls.
I plunge into her over and over until the pleasure surges.
My cock twitches and pulses as I pump my cum into her.
I groan, rolling her on top of me and kissing her hard on the mouth, claiming those lips for my own once again.
And then she wraps her arms around me.
Tight.
Like she never wants to let me go.
And I know I never want to let her go.
When I can move, I gently slide her onto the mattress, pull on my pants, and run her a bath.
I fill it with salts and essential oils I got for her and help her in.
I wash her hair, enjoying the feel of the heavy wet silk in my hands, then I get a sponge and rinse it before slowly starting to wash her.
She’ll probably need a shower later.
And I can surely give her one.
I intend to. I want to spend a week just fucking her before I have to deal with the fallout from tonight.
Very specific fallout.
Of course, it might not be that bad.
Just some bad decisions and a little na?veté on behalf of certain people, but I can’t think about that right now.
“Why the fuck did you leave the house?” I ask, squeezing water out of the sponge so it cascades down her back.
She shuts her eyes. “He must have been watching.”
“Doesn’t explain it.” I already know who O’Sullivan was doing side deals with but?—
Fallout is fallout.
Time enough for that later.
Like I said, people make bad decisions when they don’t have the whole story.
And I never told de Rosa to keep far away from O’Sullivan or Piotyr Osinov, and even if I had, I’d never tell him why.
“You still left, Lucie. Why the hell were you going to the Diamond District?”
“Because Dad needed me to pick up a package. He sent a car and—oh God, I have to call him and let him know what happened.”
Everything in me goes cold.
“I already did.”
But that coldness is my defense against the towering rage that’s growing in me.
Because the moment she spoke, everything became horribly, starkly clear.
I’m going to have to do something.
And I think I’ll lose her forever when I do.
I never called de Rosa.
I was planning to, but now things are falling into place.
If she stepped out to get a car she’d ordered, it’d be one thing.
If it was to get something for her father, which is odd, and he sent a car, yet O’Sullivan turned up, then…
Fuck .
“Lucie,” I whisper, turning her, kissing the back of her neck.
“I need to go do something, but my brothers are here. So are your rat and Arnold. You’ll be safe. I’ll be back soon.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond.
I dress, then grab my gun.
This time I don’t say a word to my brothers, and I order the guard in the car outside to get the fuck out.
I slide in behind the wheel and take off.
Vincent de Rosa’s at his fucking club, the shitty one we went to once before.
This time there are people here, but he’s upstairs in the private section.
One look at the bouncer and he steps aside.
Vincent sees me, his smile sliding away.
One of his guards reaches for his gun, but all it takes is me looking at two other men in there, men I know, men I’ve been doing business with long before de Rosa.
Our business isn’t huge, but it’s been good, clean, respectful, and they nod to their men who stand down de Rosa’s.
It’s clear no one’s stepping in.
They’re all going to watch.
Fucking fine by me.
I grab de Rosa by the shirt and throw him onto a table, jamming my gun against his temple.
“Lucie is alive, you fuck. No thanks to you.”
There are a ton of answers he could give.
“Do you have the package I sent her to the Diamond District for?”
It’s the wrong fucking answer, the wrong fucking tone.
Not one iota of concern or feeling.
He’s just playing his game, and I know what I want to do, but because she’s his kid, I give him one chance.
“Read your contract,” I say in a low voice.
“It clearly states if Lucie is threatened by one of us, it’s all null and void.”
“You, that’s about you.”
“You had it worded to mean by one of us, you or me. I agreed. To be fair. And you just fucked up that contract by sucking Osinov’s tiny dick. He’s dead, by the way, but I had quite the conversation with him before he met his maker.”
“Lies.”
I ignore him.
“Here’s the deal.” I tighten my hold and jam the gun harder against his temple.
I hope it fucking hurts.
“Keep the fuck away from Lucie. And you do not harm Viviana, your wife, or your son?—”
“I wouldn’t?—”
“Not. Done. Keep the fuck away from Lucie. You never speak to her again. Defy me, try and hurt her, and you’re a dead man. Capisce ?”