42. Cú Sidhe
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Cú SIDHE
E xiting the private suite where my little pet remains, I close the door before I sag against the wood, releasing the air from my lungs like it’s been trapped inside me for years. I guess in a way it has, like I metaphorically could not breathe until she returned.
The search is over. I’ve found her.
My Leslie is back— sort of .
My teeth grind together as I recall the scarred bodyguard with the ghastly voice kneeling at Leslie’s feet, gazing at my pet like she was a deity to behold.
Sharing never bothered me, not when I was calling the shots. This is different, though. One, I’m not calling the shots. And two, this territorial bodyguard—her boy , as she put it—is Leslie’s choice.
Not being her preference vexes me more than I care to admit. Funny, since what she wanted before never mattered. So why does it matter to me now?
When the answer hits me, I grimace. Jealousy is not an emotion I wear well. Having a partner was never something I wanted. Seeing Leslie with her sub has slayed me, showing me the type of relationship we should have together, with her being the one on her knees .
Yet here she is, stepping into my position, and finding her own sub, like she has every right to.
My knuckles crack as my fingers curl into fists, slightly shaking with the urge to lash out at something—at someone.
How dare she!
How dare she move on while I’ve essentially remained stagnate, unsatisfied with every fuck since she vanished.
Fuming, my common sense fights against the rage licking up my spine, reminding me I can’t barge back inside and haul her over my thighs to teach her a lesson in respect. Nor can I take her right out from under the don’s nose without Leslie’s bodyguard interfering. Fucker nearly dislocated my shoulder.
Not to mention the way Leslie handled that knife…
Catching myself subconsciously rubbing my neck in the same place Leslie held the blade against her sub’s throat, I quickly drop my hand. I scoff, scolding myself for letting my little pet intimidate me.
Thinking back to the moment, my brows knit tightly together. It was odd. Leslie never showed violent tendencies before. Her lover’s voice proves otherwise.
Years under Lorenzo Bianchi’s leadership made monsters of the most ordinary men who associated with his mafia. Why would a woman under the same circumstances be different?
The idea of my little pet having a taste for violence unexpectedly pleases me. Who would have guessed her fire would turn me on? Makes snuffing it out more exciting.
My lips curl upward. Yes, Leslie will make a superb bedroom and business partner as long as I can confiscate her.
The bodyguard will need to be dealt with first if I have any hope of collecting Leslie. Based on his size and the strength he exhibits, fighting the bodyguard off isn’t a feasible option. Shooting him would work if he was solo, but there’s an entire entourage of guards surrounding Leslie to take his place.
If there was only something that could lure Leslie away from her bodyguard’s side. She won’t come willingly without a good reason. And her guard won’t let her go alone. I need something to bait her while distracting him.
With time against me, I desperately search my brain for a solution before my phone vibrates in my inside breast pocket. I retrieve my cell to find a text from our lead handler in the basement.
The merchandise is ready to be brought upstairs.
The answer is obvious—I want to smack myself for not automatically realizing it. A plan forms in my head, my confidence growing as the details fall into place.
Mo pheata revealed she’s concerned about the quality of our merchandise, reminding me of the care she showed the other women who looked to her for direction when in imprisonment. Whether it’s the state of the women’s appearance or a genuine concern for their safety does not matter to me. What matters is, she feels protective of these women.
Oh, Leslie. I’ve got you now.
This time, I won’t let her slip through my fingers. If I have to cut the throats of every man in that suite to take back what was mine all along, so be it. Blood on my hands never stopped me.
The conversation Leslie and I shared minutes ago runs through my head. I’m annoyed I never considered Lorenzo hid her from me. When I went to his brothel, my preference for Leslie was as obvious as a braless chick nipping out in a thin shirt. The mafia prick never was good at sharing his best toys. Figures he’d fabricate a story about Leslie running away, only to hoard her for himself. It’s something I’d do had I been in his place.
Lorenzo’s decision to pull Leslie into the business makes sense. Aside from being phenomenal with the patrons, all the other sex workers looked at her for direction. They relied on Leslie’s experience and knowledge of the clientele, anything to make the job go smoother. She was their mentor, in a sense. I’m irritated with myself for never considering Leslie for the position. She could’ve worked under me in this business—in more ways than one.
The day Lorenzo told me Leslie ran, something inside of me detonated. I got into a verbal altercation with the don, irate he had not monitored her closer, nearly ruining the business arrangement we had. It was one of the few moments Duffy came to the rescue and smoothed things out between our two organizations, also part of the reason I’ve continued a close partnership with the tool. For all his failures, he occasionally comes through.
For months, I searched the streets and dark underbelly of Denver for Leslie. There wasn’t a trace of her, no eyewitnesses, nothing. She was gone.
Imagine my dumb luck while monitoring the arriving guests through the property cameras when my eyes landed on the backside of a tall, slender form with a small heart-shaped bottom. I did a double-take, not wanting to get my hopes up. Yet my hands twitched, muscle memory recognizing the ass it punished more than any other. I needed my eyes on her, to see for myself she was here. Never has anything felt so relieving and devastating in the same blow coming to find she was here and possibly under my nose this entire time.
Now that I know where she is, I will not lose her again—unbridled or not.
She’s different, my Leslie, more confident, bolder than she has a right to be. It thrills me as much as infuriates me.
Time apart without discipline has made her forget her place when in my presence. And yet I like her flexing her muscles, ordering those around her to do her bidding. I wouldn’t mind her behaving like that to others, everyone except for me.
Leslie can rule like a queen. But a queen must bow to her king.
Staring at the wood grain of the door, I press my palm flat against it, like I’m laying claim on the woman housed beyond the barrier.
“Soon, Leslie,” I vow under my breath, pushing away from the door .
“Finn! Have you lost your mind?!” Duffy snaps, panting as he rushes toward me on his stubby legs.
The nerve of this imbecile calling me by my first name. I make one stupid mistake, barging into the don’s suite to confront Leslie, and this tool thinks he can get lippy? Not a fucking chance.
My gun is out of its holster and pointed at Duffy’s forehead in a nanosecond. “Shut that hole in your face before I feed you a full magazine.”
“Jesus!” Duffy’s hands fly up in front of him, a poor attempt to shield himself. “Alright, I’m sorry. Calm down, Cú Sidhe .”
Calm down? As if I could relax. Leslie has returned, and she brought a boy toy. Fuck calm down! I press the barrel of my Glock hard against Duffy’s forehead.
Duffy swallows loudly. His hands are still up in front of him. “Sir, you’re acting irrational.”
He’s right, but I’ll never admit it. Leslie’s sudden return has thrown me off my game. I don’t normally act out—not unless I’m truly and deeply pissed. I keep my head until I’m in a position to unload my frustration, usually by beating the shit out of a piece of ass before fucking her bloody.
This auction already had me on edge with Piero’s attendance. Finding Leslie in his company has set the neurons in my brain into overdrive, causing me to react in reckless ways. If I stand a chance of taking back what belongs to me, I need to get my head on straight.
Grinding my molars, I re-holster my Glock. “I’m fine.”
“Sure,” Duffy huffs in annoyance, not letting down his guard. “ Fine if you consider acting like a jealous ex at the sight of seeing Leslie with another dude.”
I raise my hand to smack Duffy across his red face, but the fucker is already hiding behind his hands, peeking out at me between his fingers.
Seeing Duffy cower, it’s sad I considered him partner material. Everything about my business associate is pathetic, from his industry fuck-ups to his less than visually appealing looks. I internally curse myself for not broadening my horizons years ago, for not buying Leslie off Lorenzo and making her my partner in crime when I had the chance. My poor choices make Duffy my burden to bear.
Sighing, I lower my hand. Smacking the shite out of Duffy will do me no good when he needs to start the auction. If I had a replacement for him, I’d be tempted to follow through.
Glowering, I move past Duffy to the stairs. “Don’t bother yourself with matters that have no bearing on you.”
Failing to understand basic social cues, Duffy scampers after me. “If the matter involves swiping Leslie from the head of the Denver mob, then yes. It affects me and our business. You think I can’t see the cog wheels turning in your brain? I bet my last dollar you’re planning on grabbing her.”
“Of course I’m taking her. Leslie is mine!” I rage, turning to face Duffy. He bounces off my chest, unable to break fast enough.
“You mean ours? ” Duff challenges, his barrel chest puffed out to look intimidating.
The man either has a death wish or is dumber than I originally thought. Pumping him full of lead is growing more appealing with each new word he spits out.
“No, I don’t. She’s mine . Not yours. Not the don’s. Nor that fucking ballsy bodyguard at her feet.”
Duffy has the nerve to look hurt, his lips puckering into a pout at my refusal. “But we’ve always shared Leslie.”
“Not anymore,” I declare, getting in his face. “Forget your time with her. Forget the feel of her. You don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. You don’t dare breathe the same air in her presence. She belongs to me. Are we clear?”
My business partner turns an angry shade of red but doesn’t contest my claim. “Fine. Leslie is yours and yours alone. How are you going to take her without Bianchi or his guards stopping you?”
Unwilling to reveal my previous planned exit strategy, I say nothing. Alerting Duffy I may bail wouldn’t do any good for either of us. He’ d cry and beg me to save his arse , too. Not happening. The gobshite is dead weight, and I’m tired of dragging him around.
“Don’t worry about how I’ll do it. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“And the don and his guards?”
“A non-issue,” I say, waving him off like a fly as I continue past him down the stairs.
“I beg to fucking differ,” Duffy claps back. “Unless you plan on going in there guns blazing, there’s no way to take Leslie away from them without all hell breaking loose. You need a well-thought-out plan. Not this fly by the seat of your trousers bullshite .”
A well-thought-out plan would be best—if I had fucking time. Who knows if my path will cross with Leslie’s again after tonight? I didn’t act fast enough a few years ago, and it cost me precious time, time I could’ve spent exploring mine and Leslie’s kinks together. I won’t chance losing her again, all for having a solid plan.
There’s an escape route to the other side of the mountain with a chopper on standby. All I need to figure out is how to move Leslie from point A to point B without Bianchi’s security chasing after us.
Strategizing the extraction, I practically hum with pleasure as the details work themselves out in my head. I’ll wait until the end of the auction, when the bidders wait their turns to collect their winnings and file out. Things can get a little hectic, and many bidders hate waiting, opting to leave without caring who sees them. Given how arrogant Piero Bianchi seems, I’m guessing he’ll opt to head out with the throngs of others who want to beat the rush down the mountain. The chaos will create the perfect time—possibly the only time—to act.
Duffy continues to rattle off his complaints, anything to dissuade me from swiping the don’s business partner. His whiny voice grates my nerves. He won’t stop nagging until I cave and tell him my plan. And if he knows my true intentions are to disappear with Leslie, he’ll throw a mantrum and beg to come with us .
Having enough, I turn around to face him. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”
Eager to hear what he most likely assumes is my abduction plan, Duffy abruptly stops talking.
“You’re going to get on the stage and run the auction. That’s it.”
“But…” Duffy’s brows pull together. “What are you going to do about Leslie?”
“You said it yourself. I can’t pull this heist last-minute. There needs to be a cultivated plan in place first. A job for another day,” I lie, smoothly.
“Oh.” Duffy looks relieved, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. I’m glad you’ll wait. Well then, I’ll get this show on the road.”
“You do that,” I say, nodding for him to leave.
While Duffy teeters off to start the auction, I head for the pen to fetch some bait, grabbing four guards along the way.
Hunting season has begun.