Chapter twenty-five #3
I stare at the head of the Irish mafia. My friend. And know that his words are one hundred percent true. He will not rest until we avenge Connie’s death by killing the men at the top.
“So, what happens now?” Russell asks, his tone malevolent. He runs a hand over his face and attempts to straighten his once-white shirt, which is ripped at the elbow from his earlier fight. “And where is Luke?” he adds.
“We grabbed Luke along with Moreno. Greyson roughed him up a bit to not throw any suspicion on the lad, then we dumped him at the hospital along with his boss.”
“Good thinking,” I say. “Now they know we’re aware of the money laundering ring and who is in charge, eyes on the inside are even more vital.”
“So, what do we do?” Russell snarls again, frustrated.
“We wait. I plan to go back and speak to the Clarke family about their dealings with Moreno and what they owe. But we wait until we have the opportunity to take the whole fucking house down. I want to ruin Brenton and Moreno, and if we only take out Moreno,
the man at the top will move on to use someone else.”
“And how will we know when to take them out?” Connor asks.
“It will feel right. Now, let me drink my beer, then I’m going home.”
***
When I arrive home it’s almost midnight, and all I want to do is crawl into bed.
As I walk in the front door, I’m debating whether to sneak into Emma’s room and if at this point in our relationship that would be appropriate.
My office light streams into the hallway, grabbing my attention.
Unsettled, I pull my gun from its holster and remove my shoes before creeping along the corridor.
When I peer around the doorframe, I see Emma sitting in my chair screwing her eyes up at a notepad in her hands.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand, furious at her invading my personal space. She looks up, startled, then stands and straightens to her full height. Her round breasts strain beneath the fabric of her pajama top. She looks utterly fuckable.
“Looking for the damn truth. If you won’t tell me, I’ll find out my bloody self,” she snaps.
“By breaking into my office? How the fuck did you get in here?” I growl.
“I picked the lock,” she replies, her tone cocky.
“Where did you learn that skill?” My eyes move to the door handle and the scratches on the metal at the lock. “Look at the fucking state of the door. Skill isn’t the right word—butchery maybe.”
“YouTube,” she advises bluntly then asks, “Where were you tonight?”
“It doesn’t matter where I was, it’s none of your concern. Don’t change the subject. What are you doing in here?” She laughs out loud, then flicks a long blonde lock over her shoulder before narrowing her eyes.
“I told you, looking for answers. I’m not an idiot, Damon. The scribbles on this notepad.” She throws the paperwork onto my desk then stabs at it with a long finger. “Tell me we have the same enemy. What has this address got to do with Moreno? And what the fuck are you planning to do?”
“I don’t want you worrying about any of this,” I say, my voice softening. Her expression only hardens. “Stay here with the security, look after Annie, and once everything is sorted, you can go back to normal.”
“Normal,” she wails. “What is normal? Because it certainly isn’t this.”
She throws her hands up into the air, and her breasts rise with them.
My cock stirs beneath the denim. “I will not hide away, Damon. I want to go back to work. I want to be a lawyer. I want to play my part in taking these bastards off the streets.”
We stare at each other for a beat, both of us warring with the other silently—both of us attempting to get the other to see our point of view.
“Damon,” she says, suddenly tender. “You can’t protect me from everything evil.”
“They tried to kill you.”
“But they didn’t. I know the world is dangerous. You need to trust me to be able to deal with it. Please be honest with me and tell me how I’m connected in all of this. And what exactly you are planning to do, because I want to help.”
My eyes run over her face. She’s so fucking determined. I know she won’t back down; I know she wants to play a part in this.
“Okay,” I concede. “I’ll tell you everything, but tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to forget about all of it.”
“Promise?” she says sexily, then walks out from behind my desk.
“I promise.”
“So, how can I help take your mind off things, Chief Constable?”
she asks with a smile. As she moves toward me, she lifts her top over her head and lets it fall to the floor.
When she stands in front of me, she is only wearing a tiny pair of shorts.
My gaze drops to her chest, round breasts with large pert nipples begging to be sucked.
I cup one breast in my left hand and squeeze, and she gasps softly.
“There is the small matter of you breaking and entering, then causing criminal damage to my door,” I whisper, leaning down and placing my lips at her ear. “How do you feel about being put under arrest?”
“You would have to catch me first,” she says, cheekily and steps back as I pull the handcuffs from my back pocket.
“Run, Spitfire,” I say darkly. “Because when I catch up, you’ll know about it.”