CHAPTER TWELVE
Jess
T he fuckers still haven’t sent me the photo of Jack. One thing the Ten64 love is torture. And there’s no easier torture than making someone wait.
Not knowing…
Oh, do I think they’ll kill Jack?
In a heartbeat.
It doesn’t matter if he’s their best member or their worst, or even if he’s still a prospect. Hell, he could be a prisoner. I don’t know and Jack not talking to me by the burner makes me lean towards the prisoner and bleeding arena.
A week to get them something. And vagaries.
If they told me what they want, I’d be happier. No, I wouldn’t be happier. I’d be fucked, but then maybe I could find a way out for me and Jack.
They want information, weaknesses, any—I imagine—disgruntled allies. All they’ve done so far is give me enough vagaries to tie me into them. I now look guilty.
If I fail, that is.
It’s a double sword, and one that doesn’t belong to Damocles that hangs over my head. Or maybe it is that double edged sword. It feels perilous enough.
I sit in the garden with Dante sunning himself on my lap.
I’ve been back here not even a day, and I wouldn’t have given in, except it was a perfect excuse to be back where I don’t want to be, collecting information I don’t want.
My phone rings and Dante growls as I pull it from my pocket, rocking his human seat.
Private number. Again. I hesitate. I glance at the entrance to the grotto garden but no one’s there, no one’s made a sound. Nikolai and Rose are out, and the cold, calculating look he gave me on my return left me with zero doubts he knew I was in that closet. Hence the change of location.
My pussy—not the pussy on my lap—throbs. What I heard was hot. What happened in that fancy apartment with Rush is something that burned all the houses down. I’m still aching, even though I don’t think I’ve come that hard or that many times in my life. Not even with any of my Bluetooth and plug and play devices.
To make it worse, Rush didn’t touch me when we got back, just showed me to that room, told me no guards would be outside and I could leave whenever I wanted, and then…gave me the kind of look where it’s a wonder I’m not glowing from the smolder.
The phone starts to buzz again.
Shit.
I hit answer and hold it up.
“When I call,” the voice says, “fucking answer, bitch. You went back to them, good. You’re our girl on the inside, the key to toppling the fuckers who think they run this piece of shit town.”
“If it’s such shit, then why do you want it?”
“Keep going, cunt, if you want your brother dead.”
“I don’t want either of us involved. Tell me concisely, broadly what you want.”
He laughs. “You fucking think you can order the Ten64 around? You can’t.”
I try to say sorry, I really do. The word sticks. Worse than when I know I should apologize for something.
In this? the only words that want to come are fuck and you .
So I stay silent.
“Good little cunt. If you don’t want Jacky-boy cut up and spread from here to the West Coast, stay like a mute. Shut the fuck up and listen. Queenstown’s instrumental to bigger and better things. The ports are treasure troves of illicit goods and the one near the bar’s not really checked. We want it. There are guns, drugs, girls. We want to trade in them. And there’s a market for medical cargo. Human live stock. A little mix and match of client to parts. We can deliver, but we need a system, and—”
“I don’t want to know.” The words break free.
“Yeah? What did I say about silent?” he asks. “That info’s enough to put you in, tits deep, bitch. Wilder and Smith stand in our way. We want everything on both of them.”
I frown. “I don’t know Smith.”
“Your pretty boy does. Go fuck him and get the info. Here’s some motivation for you.”
My phone buzzes and I suck in a breath, trying to quell the queasiness.
“We want their weaknesses, anything and everything. Wilder is the one we need to break. He goes and it all crumbles. The pretty boy, the prettier cunt Wilder’s married to, get us shit on them, or get them alone so we can take them. Take them, we break him. Got it? We’ll be in touch. You get anything, go to Bunny Munroe.”
The phone goes dead.
I click on the media. A photo of Brutus, black eye, fat lip. Looking high as a fucking kite. Shit.
They’re right about the weaknesses. Rush. Rose. No one can get in here, but Rose and Rush leave and…
Nikolai has them watched. He has to. So…
I have to betray them or get something on the Smith angle.
My stomach heaves again.
“Who was that?”
I almost jump out of my skin. Dante stalks off.
My knees are weak as guilt and lust hit me in equal measures.
It takes me longer for a smooth come back than it should.
“Bunny’s. Feeling bad about firing me. They want me back.”
His eyes travel over me. I’m wearing jeans, my boots and an oversize T-shirt. My tattooed arms are on full display. I’ve left most of my armor in my room, except the rings.
I’m only wearing a light amount of make up because, while he can dismantle me in seconds, I need something. Even if it’s the idea of armor.
I change the subject. “Are you on your way out? Or do you always dress up?”
“For you, Jessie. You like?” He runs a hand along his lean, muscular form and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
No one undoes me.
Except, it seems, Rush.
I narrow my eyes. “I was curious why you were trying so hard.”
“Not an insult. I’m a lean, mean sex machine.” The smile backs up his slick—what should be outrageous—words.
I remember when he had me against the wall he’s leaning back against, how he somehow got my pants undone and down without me even registering.
My breath is tangled and I shoot to my feet. Suddenly, I don’t want to be in this grotto.
“I need…”
“Me?”
“Only if there’s a gun involved, and I’m the one with my finger on the trigger.”
“You talking the one in my pants?”
A shiver of lust races through me. It should be annoyance. Fuck is he dangerous to me and my senses. “I’m talking a real gun. Bullets.”
He’s quiet a moment, then straightens and walks off. He stops. “Are you coming?”
Probably, if he touches me… “Where?”
“Where do you think? I’m gonna get you a gun, Jessie.” He turns and continues walking away. “A real one.”
I take aim and shoot the target. My aim used to be better. But it’s been a while.
Next to me, Rush is shooting, too.
This place, the mansion, compound, estate, whatever you wanna call it, is fucking unreal.
They don’t just have a shooting range, they’ve got one with a few booths, where multiple people can practice. Or…string up fuckers who take brothers and use them to threaten me with. The whole lot of the Ten64. Yeah.
I aim again.
Then I step back and slide a side eye at Rush. He’s not very good, I’m better.
Although why would he be good at shooting? He’s not the criminal mastermind, that’s his cousin. Nikolai’s hard, seemingly emotionless. Not Rush. I’m not sure I want him to be a mini-Nikolai, though. Rush…he’s not unsullied, but he’s able to float through life, not letting it touch him.
Of course, I don’t know that.
I’m guessing.
But it fits.
Rich spoiled boy who’s delicious. Shit.
I set my gun down and slide off the noise cancelers as he takes careful aim and misses.
“You need to follow through.”
He puts his gun down and slips off his cancelers too. “You’re talking, but I don’t hear a thing. You’re messing with my vibe now.”
“You don’t have a vibe. You missed.”
“Well, fuck.”
I’m about to make a joke when my breath catches tight in my chest and cold drenches me. Fuck, I’m not meant to be joking, I’m meant to be pumping him for information, poking about for weak spots.
“Where is everyone?”
“I don’t know.” He loads his gun, then lunges around me and into my booth to get my gun. He digs out a clip from his pocket and shoves it in place. “I’m not the secretary.”
“Do…” I swallow. “Does Rose work?”
He looks at me and something flashes in his eyes. He hands me my gun. “Word of advice if anyone from that gang asks? Don’t fuck with Rose. You fuck with her, you fuck with Nikolai and you don’t want fuck with him.”
I’m cold inside, extremities ice as he hits close to the bone.
“He must love her.” I’m trying to angle in the right words, but I don’t know what they are and this is harder than it should be.
Rush goes to his booth, picks up his gun. I don’t know guns, just how to shoot them. It’s enough, but his is sleek, almost beautiful. Pity he doesn’t know how to use it.
“I don’t know what you’re up to,” he says quietly, “but if you think that this gang might use her, then they’re all dead. Even Nikolai doesn’t see it, but I do.”
Now, I’m really curious. “See what?”
“She’s not his weakness, she’s his strength and if anything happens to her he’ll destroy everyone related to those involved. I’ll help him. So will half this town. Rose is powerful now, Nikolai taught her well, but people love her.”
“This place is impossible to get into, anyway.”
“She’s not trapped here,” he mutters. “But…she can look after herself. Nikolai, too.”
“But—”
“As I said, he’ll destroy the world in her name. it’ll be war and that’s a war no one wants. And if they try to take Nikolai, Rose will torture them.” He pauses. Looks at me. “I’ll help.”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m bringing the danger. You told me to come here. I want…I want to make sure everyone’s okay.”
The lie tastes like ash on my tongue.
“It’s fine,” he says, “I don’t know if you’re angling to get out again, or if you think you’ll bring destruction down. I’m saying you’re safer here and you’re not bringing anything down.”
“Rush…” I stop.
I’m not sure what I’m going to say. I can’t tell him the truth. And while I’m not entirely sure how he tied all that up in a pretty bow for me, I use it.
“I’ll do my best not to worry, okay,” I say, “but it’s a natural state.”
“Goes more with goth than punk. Up your game, Jessie.” He comes over and leans in. “You’re safe here.”
Then, he goes back to his side. I’m about to slide the cancelers on when he speaks again.
“Let’s play strip shooting.”
I turn. “I don’t think there’s a thing called strip shooting.”
“There is. I just made it up.”
I raise a brow. “And how does that work?”
“Well…” Rush dips his blond head. “Stripping has a logical conclusion.”
“Nakedness?”
“Sex. Let’s make it interesting.” He raises his head and glances at me and the cold turns to fire. “Sex is a given. So…you win, you get to shoot me.”
I jerk. “I get to shoot you? Why?”
“You said you wanted to. Call it all your Christmases coming early.”
Or hell in a special handbasket sent straight to his cousin. “If I lose?”
There’s a small flashing smile. “If I win, I get your ass and your submission.”
“I don’t submit.”
“But you hand your pretty ass out? Good to know.”
Maybe I should shoot him now. “You know I don’t.”
“The rules,” he says, ignoring me, “are an item of clothing per missed shot.”
“Easy.”
“Shoes and socks don’t count. Or belts, or jewelry.”
“You must be fun at parties.”
He slides off his shoes and peels off his socks. “You’ve no fucking idea how much fun I am at parties. I’m the star attraction.”
“Does your ego have to wait outside?” I pause. “On account of it not being able to fit through the door.”
He just laughs. “Admit it, Jessie, you’ve got a thing for me and my ego.”
“I can’t wait to shoot you. Now, tell me the damn rules.”
“Okay.” He sucks in a breath. “Every shot outside the nine you lose a piece of clothing, and we look at each other.” He waves his left hand. “I’m left-handed.”
“Fine. But prepare to be buck naked.”
It’s hard to do this when we don’t look at the targets so it’s fairly even. He loses his sweater first, or should, but being Rush, he opts for jeans, and he’s right—his package so…there, delineated in the fitted boxer briefs, is distracting. Then, he loses his sweater. I get a run of bad luck and lose my T-shirt and jeans.
Rush loses his T-shirt next.
Through it, my pussy throbs, and I can feel the wetness. Like my brilliant idea of wearing the dress and those panties when he was going to put me up, or when I made him eat me…I’m a slave to my body’s runaway desires, and every single one of those are team Rush.
I didn’t have to taunt him the other night; I wore that dress to make him lust. I certainly didn’t need to make him eat me.
Though that last one still sends thrills rippling through me.
I force myself to breathe as I shoot again, looking at him. Except my head is all about trying to not stare at his sizable package that I know is thick, heavy and can get so hard I want to ride it until I hurt.
“Missed.” His voice is soft, taunting because there’s no deliberate taunt to it.
I look.
Fuck.
Rush smiles. “Bra or panties?”
I set the gun down and go for the bra, fingers shaking as I flick it open and pull it off. My nipples are hard.
Rush drinks them in like he’s parched.
I raise my chin. “Your turn.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Your boxer briefs or my panties. We need a winner. Your turn.”
“I don’t think so.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why? Are you scared I’ll laugh at what you have? Look at those boxer briefs that cling…are they too small or is your dick just tiny?”
He grabs his junk. “They mold to me perfectly. I’m fucking huge and the look on your face says you want to lick and suck me like an all-day sucker.”
“I’m never going to a fair again.”
“Have you ever been?”
“No,” I snap, “but I fucking will just so I don’t have to ever go again.”
He comes at me, backing me into the wall of my booth. Then he checks my rounds and goes to his side, comes back as he switches them out. “You might need more than one shot if I choose to let you win.”
“You’re making this a draw?”
“Maybe I want your prickly honey.”
“Ugh, why does that sound filthy?”
He runs my gun down between my breasts to my clit before putting the weapon down, then he kisses me long and slow. Everything spins.
“Of course, if I decide to win, I’ll make you be my sub; you’ll do what I want.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not a sub.”
“Neither am I,” he says, licking a path along my collarbone and lifting a breast to his mouth to suck on my nipple. I almost come.
Crap. Fuck. Shit. All the swearwords. The worst part about it is I want to sub for him. I want to be forced like Rose, who sounded like she loved it. I want him to command the way Nikolai did. I want it Rush-style. I want to fight to see who gets to top who. I want to both sub and dominate him.
Am I a switch?
Is he?
Because he liked it when I forced him.
“I think I’ll let you win.” He picks up the gun, puts it in my nerveless hand.
“Rush?”
“Go on, Jessie. Shoot me.”
There’s something wrong with him. There’s something wrong with me, too, because I want to point the gun at him. I’m not going to.
Then, he offers me his dirty sex-filled smile.
Anger flares bright.
How is he so gorgeous?
Rush should be the most annoying man, the very definition of a rich fuck boy.
Hot package or not.
Hung or not.
He should leave me cold.
Rush doesn’t.
“Goddamn you, Rush.”
“Do it.”
“No.”
“Do it. I double dog dare you.”
I glare. I’ll call his bluff, I’ll fucking shoot near him. He doesn’t think I will.
“Fine.”
I aim just to the right of him. And Rush leaps into that spot, right as I pull the trigger.