Chapter six
Harrison's Apartment, The Level
Harrison
“Whatever shade you want me to be,” I tell her, and she stares into my eyes.
My common sense has taken a sabbatical. Tonight, all I can think about is getting close to her.
Touching her. My instinct is to reach out and feel her skin beneath my fingertips.
When Russell suggested her moving in with him, it took all my strength not to shout no fucking way.
Before I can overstep the mark further, I stand, wish her goodnight, and disappear to my room.
In the shower, I run my hand down my shaft thinking of her, imagining her body joined with mine.
How it has changed in the years we have been apart.
My dick hardens to breaking point, my fingers pulling roughly as I visualize her out of her clothes.
With one hand on the wall, I let the warm water roll over my body and pleasure myself pretending it’s her, picture pumping her pussy as I pin her against the cool white tiles.
Those shapely legs wrapped around my waist; firm breasts squashed against my chest.
The sounds she makes with each orgasm, the sensation of her coming around me.
I want nothing more than to find out what she feels like now, if our bodies will still connect seamlessly the way they did before. The one time we allowed it to happen.
***
My office phone rings, snapping me from the recollection of last night.
“Mr. Waite,” my secretary Elspeth says, “Chief Constable McKinney has arrived for your eleven o’clock.”
“Show him in, please.”
The heavy oak door swings open and bounces off my wall.
I glance up into Damon McKinney’s furious eyes.
“Five more, Waite,” he snarls. “Five more deaths this weekend due to that fucking heroin.”
He strides across the floor and throws himself into the chair opposite me.
His head drops to his hands, his elbows on his knees.
“Does Devane know?” I ask.
“Not yet. I don’t want to start a war we can’t win.” He rubs his forehead. Tired eyes rise to mine. “When he hears, he’ll be out for blood. Five innocent students on a night out, sold the product in a backstreet club. All of them dead within hours of taking it.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Same as Danny.” Devane’s little brother died on a night like that.
He had no part in the criminal side of his family’s life.
Hunter spent his time keeping him safe in an attempt to allow him to live a normal existence.
Not even the mafia don of London could save an overenthusiastic teenager from himself, though.
At nineteen years old, he injected the wrong substance into his veins and dropped dead on the dance floor ten minutes later.
Hunter has been out to find the source of the drug ever since—heroin laced with rat poison.
The more weeks that pass, the more the deaths mount up.
“I need to tell him,” Damon says, almost to himself.
“But I’ve been juggling so much of the shit he’s involved with across my desk, I’m worried I won’t be able to control the fallout. There are only so many deaths and strange events I can explain away. There is going to be a point when someone will want answers.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Support me.” It’s a simple request. “When we meet at your place on Wednesday night and we sit down to discuss the project, all I ask is you support my suggestions on moving the operation forward.”
I nod, but leave room for him to continue.
“Devane and Russell will want to use force. I don’t think we can. This syndicate runs deep. There are a lot of people involved, and we don’t know their true identities. We need all the evidence we can get before we take them down. Killing more witnesses won’t help.”
“Have you spoken to Connor?”
“Not yet, but I will. I’m not sure whose side he’ll be on. The man plays his cards close to his chest. But at the end of the day, he is Russell’s brother and will probably follow his lead.”
“Connor is sensible. He knows when to fight a fight. I’ll speak to him,” I tell him.
“Good,” he says and stands. “We need a combined effort, not fucking Robin Hood on a mission to stop whatever fucking injustice he isn’t happy about.”
“How are things at home?” I ask, changing the subject. He stills, looks at me, then drops his eyes away.
“Bad,” he mutters. “Very bad. This month marks a year since losing her. Trying to juggle being a father along with what I do is like playing constant Tetris.”
“You’re doing an amazing job on all accounts.”
He doesn’t answer, only turns and leaves my office.
My chest strains for my heartbroken friend.
After years of trying to complete their family, his wife never lived to see the baby born.
Twelve months on, he’s lost and confused.
If things continue as they have been, his life could become even more complicated.
When I arrive home, Violet and Mrs. D. are working together in the kitchen.
There are umpteen pans on the stove bubbling away, and the smell of freshly baked bread fills the room.
Lively chatter bounces between them about measurements and accompaniments to what they’ve got cooking.
They don’t hear me enter, only looking up when I stand across the counter from them.
Violet gives me a breath-taking smile and my chest tightens. Hell, she is beautiful.
“Good evening, Mr. Waite,” Mrs. D. says. “Dinner is almost complete. Chicken Dhansak with steamed rice, broccoli, and fresh bread. Violet knows what is to be done, so I’ll get out of your hair. Let you both enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you,” I reply. Her eyes glitter as she speaks, moving between Violet and me. Are my feelings so obvious? Is merely being in a room with this woman a sign to everyone else how I feel about her?
Mrs. D. places a final glass on the counter, washes her hands, and leaves. Not before placing a gentle kiss on Violet’s cheek, though. “Enjoy your night,” she whispers to her conspiratorially.
***
Violet
Harry and I watch her leave, standing across the worktop from each other. My breathing deepens as I look at him. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. His eyes run over my face and hesitate on my lips.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him. He smiles sexily then runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
“You could say that. How long will dinner be?”
“Ten minutes or so,” I tell him.
“I’ll go and freshen up. I’ll be back,” he says, then walks around the obstruction between us and places a soft kiss on my cheek.
I melt under his touch, my heart exploding in my chest.
“See you in ten minutes.” He turns and walks in the direction of his bedroom.
I watch his taut behind disappear out of view, then move to the oven, using it as a mirror to adjust the straps on the simple blue summer dress Mrs. D. arrived with after lunch today.
She had popped out only to return with a few items to aid my failing wardrobe until I get to the store.
I’m scooping the last of the meal onto the plates when a knock at the front door distracts me.
Assuming it must be Matthew or one of my brothers, I wander over and throw it open.
Aiden stands on the other side, oozing confidence.
“Good evening, Princess,” he says with a sly smile.
He’s dressed in his black Armani suit paired with a pale pink shirt.
His blue eyes lock on mine, and my body freezes in position.
Seeing him is a shock I don’t need. “You were much easier to track down than I thought.”
“How did you get in here?” I stammer.
“I have a very persuasive personality,” he replies with a sneer.
I move to close the door; he slams a strong hand against it to stop me.
“Don’t fucking think about it. We have a lot to talk about.”
His hand snaps to my throat, strong fingers wrapping around my windpipe as he pushes me backward, into the apartment.
I totter in reverse, trying to keep my balance as I match his long strides.
“Aiden,” I gasp, pulling at his grip. “What are you doing? Please don’t hurt me.” His fingers tighten, reducing my access to oxygen. I panic for the child in my belly. “Aiden, please. You don’t understand.” I open my mouth in an attempt to draw in air; the reward is minimal.
“Imagine my surprise when I came to see you at our apartment and you were gone,” he snarls, ignoring my pleas. “Just upped and fucked off. No note, no message. After everything I’ve done for you, Princess.” His grip tightens further.
“Done for me,” I spit between gasps. “You’re married. I devoted myself to you for thirteen years. You lied to me. I never had a future with you. You never wanted one with me.”
“Don’t play the victim here, you little whore. Only an idiot wouldn’t have realized what was going on.”
His lips contort into a vicious grin. “Perhaps I should have been more transparent with you, but I didn’t want to lose that mouth of yours in my sex toy cabinet. You’re one of my favorites.”
Tears fill my eyes. He is nothing like the man I fell in love with.
Hard and detached, he chuckles under his breath.
“And I want my little fuck buddy back. You’re coming home with me. I doubt your family will want you. They’ll hand you over no questions asked. What a disappointment you’ve become.”
“I am not going with you! Go home to your wife!” I shriek. The sound is pathetic as my body struggles to take in air.
He flexes his fingers against my skin and pushes me hard against the wall. My back connects firmly with the plaster, and a book from the shelf beside me hits the floor. His knee comes between my legs, and he presses his hip against my stomach, imprisoning my body.
“Can you afford not to?” He drops his mouth to mine, biting my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
The metallic taste of myself coats my tongue.
“If they haven’t disowned you already, they will when they find out about the bastard baby you have in your belly.”
His words knock the little breath from my lungs.
“How do you know?” My brain misfires—I haven’t told anyone about the baby. Only my doctor in Chicago who ran the test for me.
“Did you think I’d let you leave, Princess? After all these years,” he sneers.