CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE #2
She’s the first woman I’ve ever wanted to spoil and the only one I’ve ever been with who didn’t view me as a gold mine.
She also caught on way too fast when I gave her a black diamond bracelet to wear that would’ve helped me track her and her vitals. Fucking Mercy. Girls obviously talk, and Ryker has my sister-in-law wired like a LoJack. I’ll have to get craftier than jewelry, I guess.
Afterward, we watched fireworks with my family from the rooftop terrace. Remy spent much of the night using Ryker as a jungle gym, but eventually, he snuggled up with Tessa and me. It made me desperate for kids of our own someday, something I’d never envisioned before.
Electro-swing music guides our path to the dance competition. We have a few drinks and wait for everyone to get their numbers on and line up with their partners. There’s a stage where the judges will eventually sit that’s currently lined with watermelons. Don’t ask why.
I honestly have no idea how we started this stupid tradition.
It might’ve been a Dirty Dancing reference, but I can’t be sure.
Regardless, about a decade ago, Cash and I decided to launch watermelons from a catapult.
It has evolved into a slew of mayhem that is always in high demand, so before we make these people dance for twenty-four hours straight, we aim to please.
One side of the tent is wide open to showcase the wall of our storage facility in the distance, at the end of an open field. Jax will send watermelons soaring while Cash and I mix some dance moves and fruit obliteration, with our own specialties.
Bernard announces the rules to the contestants and tells them to be ready to dance when the final watermelon is smashed.
That’s our cue.
The promiscuous lilt of the saxophone drawls, and Cash and I jump into action, alternating our penetration into the melons.
He has cards. I have knives. Mine stick every time, but I’ll concede to the blade being easier to land.
He’s so quick at the draw that he can fling three cards in five seconds.
We make our way down the line, starting at opposite ends and working toward the middle.
We even throw in a few spins and twirls to the beat of an up-tempo electro-swing song to really get the employees howling.
When we come to the final watermelon onstage, Jax launches his last one, and as a barrage of red oozes down the distant wall, highlighted with a spotlight, I hurl the waiting hatchet to slice the one onstage clean down the middle.
It gushes right along with the celebration.
The song picks up, champagne is popped, horns are blown, and capering ensues.
My work here is practically done.
Cash pats me on the back. “That was a smooth run.”
I chuckle while beelining for Tess. “It was just as asinine as the first time we’d done it.”
And as we stop before her, he manages to sum up our roles perfectly. “That’s why it works. We’ve gotten really good at being asses.”
“Couldn’t have said it better,” Tessa quips.
For that, I scoop her up, hoist her over my shoulder, and issue a firm spank. “Speaking of asses.”
Cash waves us off. “I’ll hold down the madness until you two …”
“Thank you for not finishing that,” Tessa calls as I bolt for the haunted house, and she immediately notes the detail I had added just for her. “Zero.”
“I got you, baby girl. It’s not all The Nightmare Before Christmas, but there are some pieces.” I pat her sweet ass again. “Good thing you didn’t pick the raccoon in the bathtub. That could’ve been violent.”
She cackles as I glance at the attendant before entering.
“All clear,” he says since he was given orders not long ago and was expecting us.
Rushing up the steps, I breeze inside, lowering Tessa off my shoulder to thrust her up against the wall. Our lips collide without pretense, her tongue commanding mine, her legs hooked around my waist, her fingers snaking into my hair.
“Two hours without tasting you, and I lose my goddamn mind,” I growl, always craving more of her.
She purrs and rocks her hips and yanks on my strands, her mouth never parting from mine until she pants her demand against my lips. “Inside me. Now.”
In answer, I coast my mouth along her jaw, nipping at her earlobe and gliding to her thrashing pulse point to sink my teeth into it. “I’d rather torture you. We are in a haunted house.”
“Maddox,” she sneers, grinding into me with a glorious warning.
She’s voracious, and I love it.
“Beg,” I rasp into her sticky skin.
“Fine,” she coos in a saccharine warble that she’d definitely employ before offing someone. “Fuck me, please, Drac, or I’ll knee you in the damn balls.”
My boisterous laugh ricochets off the crooked walls and tinny floors in the small space as I slink my hand beneath her dress, bypass her sopping panties, and thrust two fingers inside her heat to the melody of her delighted moans.
“I’m gonna make you come on my fingers, my tongue, and my cock before we leave this haunted house—a reminder that dreams live and breathe in our nightmares.”
“I can get behind that lesson.” Her retort is breathless and avid as she sprinkles kisses in my scruff. “Is that buzzing against my thigh a vibrator you brought to tease me, your overzealous dick, or your phone?”
I didn’t even notice it, too immersed in pina colada and Caribbean sea. “Grab my phone out of my pocket. But we’ll be going back to the suite to get your vibrator now that you put that idea in my head.”
She huffs a muffled laugh because retrieving my phone is awkward, but the only other option is for me to remove my fingers, and neither of us wants that.
When she manages to snag it, she glances at the screen. “It says Secure.”
“Fuck. It’s an encrypted call, probably Liam Graves. I’ve been expecting him. I need to take that, baby. Grab my AirPods too.”
She hedges, her question saturated in skepticism. “Why can’t I listen?”
“You can. Put one earbud in if you want, but I can’t blast whatever he’s about to tell me on speaker in here, vacant or not.”
The call ends before she snags the AirPods case from my pocket, but by the time we each have one in, he’s calling again.
That’s not good.
She hits the button for me to answer, all while my fingers maintain a taunting pace and the ever-changing colorful ambient lights illuminate her ardent desire and intrigue.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, man.” Liam’s deep tenor filters through the earpiece. “Got a couple of things for ya. Now good?”
“Go ahead.”
“First,” he begins, “the driver of the truck that was killed turned out to be a contract enforcer, known for taking risky jobs for ruthless families. Same thing we fucking found with the one we interrogated.”
Tessa purses her lips, but she should be celebrating. At least she didn’t kill a specific family’s enforcer. No one will go to war over a for-hire hit man.
But the other piece of information he alluded to is concerning.
“Families, including …” I prompt him to fill it in.
“Yeah. You guessed it,” he sighs. “Both the Lunds and the Makarovs.”
“Shit,” I hiss before something strikes me, a hunch I considered early on. “You think they’re working together?”
“They are now,” he confirms, “which brings me to the next piece of news. I managed to get a tap on Dimitri Makarov.”
My eyes shoot to Tessa’s, whose are alarmed, even while hooded from my languid pumps into her weeping pussy. Both of us know a tap on that family would be near impossible.
“Impressive,” I commend him.
“Well, it pays to be the people in high places,” he boasts, with a subtle nod to his secret society ties with KORT. “There’s something I picked up last night that I think will be of interest to you. Are you somewhere you can listen?”
I debate whether I should shield Tessa from whatever this is. Shutting her out would be easier, but I can’t ask her to join me in this clusterfuck of a life and not actually let her partake in it. “I’m good.”
As the words leave my mouth, ghost sounds and an eerie laugh bellow around us.
Liam hums. “You sure you’re okay, man?”
“Yep. I’m in an empty haunted house.”
“And that makes perfect sense.” He snickers. “The beginning of the call had interference we couldn’t clear. First voice you hear is Dimitri Makarov; second is Vincent Lund.”
It only takes about three seconds before he plays the recording.
“And I’m telling you that your grandson was the last person to see my Niko alive. If he didn’t do it, it’s on you to figure out who did. Produce the culprit, or we will determine the guilt to lie with your grandson. And all associated with him.” That’s a death threat against the entire Lund family.
“I still think it could be—”
Makarov cuts off Lund’s excuse. “You said he was too flippant to be a suspect, that he had someone under the desk.”
Tess and I both inhale sharply.
“You know them,” Lund presses out of desperation. “The arrogance. That could be part of their game.”
Makarov scoffs. “You’ll need a motive for that level of accusation. It doesn’t add up.”
“The more I think about it, the more it does.” Lund’s tone grows in confidence, far more convincing. “It’s their town. If anyone is responsible, it’s them.”
There’s a long pause, and visions of the brutality Dimitri Makarov is known for bombard me.
It’s a giant leap beyond what most of our members would inflict.
He keeps his enemies alive for weeks, mutilating them slowly—severed digits, gouged eyes, butchered genitals, starvation.
It’s not something I thought much about until I threw his son, the rapist, in the bayou.
Prior to that, I was awed by tales of him rarely using guns, which was a fun fact to uncover because Makarov is the name of the most famous Russian pistol.
I usually click with knife guys. Unless I dismember their kin.
“Fine,” Makarov finally roars before grumbling a command. “Clean up your mess.”
The recording stops, and Liam returns. “That’s all we got.”
Tessa’s breath whooshes out, pummeled by the weight of the call.
The Lunds are teddy bears compared to the Makarovs, but only because the Makarovs are monsters.
The Lunds are still heinous. That’s why they do business together.
And there’s no guarantee the Makarovs won’t get involved since they just ordered a hit on me, knowing it would be war.
My eyes glue to Tessa’s as I wrap things up. “Thanks, Graves. I’ll take it from here.”
“Fuck that,” he grits out, driving home the intensity of the situation.
“We’re in this with you. Do not make a move alone.
I’m still running connections with everyone who’s been to the Bahamas casino.
I should have something for you regarding the money soon.
That could give us a new perspective. We also have eyes on Makarov and Lund. Both are still at their homes.”
Interesting. Makarov was supposed to be arriving tonight. I’ll be canceling his reservations, even if he is still planning on coming.
“I appreciate it.” I choke back a million scenarios, rendering my stomach nauseous, and brace Tessa against the wall with my legs and hips so I can use the hand not fingering her to grab the phone from her.
I’m committed to her impending orgasm, which is substantiated by her parted lips and writhing hips.
“Mad?” There’s a trace of urgency to the way Liam says my name.
“Yeah?”
“Keep them close.” He’s referring to anyone I don’t want dead because we’re officially under attack.
And while there’s already been a first blow with us being chased down yesterday, the Lunds and the Makarovs still think we don’t know it’s them. They’ll hit us harder next time to announce their formal declaration.
“Already on it.” I end the call and flick my gaze to Tessa, who is clearly fretting. “I’ll fix this. Do you trust me?”
She glances at the funhouse mirrors and wonky floor in a crooked hallway that leads into a giant, bloody clown mouth before her gaze snags on a floating Zero and she nods. “I do. But what’s the plan?”
“Good.” Before I detail my agenda, the money pops into my head, and though it’s doubtful any knowledge about it would change anything, I keep my voice low and ask her what I should have long ago.
“There was missing money involved. A large amount. You didn’t find it that night or hear anything about it, right? ”
Her nose crinkles, her dainty piercings twinkling in the violet lighting. “No. Is that what they’re chasing?”
She almost seems relieved. I wish I could tell her the money was all they wanted. We could solve that. But the money is just a means to find who murdered Niko, and now that the hit has been ordered on me, it’s too late.
“Not the only thing. Doesn’t really matter now. Long game is to slaughter those two families. I can’t take any chances.” I flip through my address book, not bothering to hide who I’m about to call. “But at the moment, I’m prioritizing.”
I wiggle my fingers inside her wet heat to emphasize what one of my priorities is, even as she shivers from my murder plans, but the gesture is overshadowed.
Panic seizes her when she sees the contact I dock on. “Why the hell are you calling my father? Why do you even have his number?”
I cast a disbelieving leer at her.
“Fine,” she huffs. “Stupid question. You fucking stalker.”
“Don’t be a brat when we both know you love that I’m obsessed with you.” I pause to see if she’ll dispute it, but she doesn’t give me anything, so I go on. “I need to speak with him, so you have choices—stay quiet, come for me, or back me up.”
This is a brilliant scheme to keep the glow on her face while we deal with something that threatens to rob it. There’s only one way to convince her though.
I stare her down in challenge because Tessa doesn’t know how to bow out, and despite our less than favorable circumstances, I’m eager to see how she meets this one.
“Want to be my good girl and let me play with your pretty pussy during this call, Tess? Or is it too risky to let your worlds collide like that?”