Текст книги "Ruthless People"

Автор книги: J. J. McAvoy

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Good. I didn’t want her to see this.

I did it as quickly as possible and turned off the machines, before turning and holding her.

MELODY

I just listened in Liam’s arms, not crying or depressed but somewhat relieved that someone else had fulfilled my father’s wish. Something I had dreaded since he first asked. We stood there holding each other for God knows how long before Liam spoke.

“Wife, Mel, my Melody. Let’s go to bed,” he whispered, and I nodded. He lifted me up bridal style, and a part of me wanted to fight him but not now. Not tonight. Not our wedding night. Not my father’s last night. I knew I would fight him on a million things soon, but not tonight.

TWELVE

“Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair,

the midnight murderer bursts the faithless bar;

Invades the sacred hour of silent rest

and leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast.”

~ Samuel Johnson

LIAM

“Is that all, sir?” Dylan questioned softly, placing the tray of food and the files I requested on the top of my desk. He knew just as well as anyone that if he woke my wife, I would snap his neck.

“Tell Patrick I want to know of Amory’s whereabouts in the next few hours.”

The moment the door closed I turned to Mel, only to find her sitting up and staring back at me. Her face was void and her eyes clear as day. It was almost haunting.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, leaving distance between us as I tried to read her mood.

She frowned, noticing that she was still in her dress, before standing up and turning around. “Help me out of it.”

Without saying a word, I unhooked the tiny part at the top and unzipped it slowly, trying my best not to get excited, but it didn’t work.

Her fucking father just died, calm down.

Seeing her in nothing but white lace almost killed me.

Fuck it all to hell.

“Let me get you—” She stopped me with her lips, and I gave in, gladly pulling her body to mine and gripping her ass. I loved her ass. I loved how it felt like it was made for my hands only.

When her tiny hands pulled away my tie and ripped at my shirt, I had to push her away.

“Mel, we can wait. I can wait.” I gasped, breathing deeply to control my raging cock.

“Well, this isn’t about you. This is about me, and I can’t wait. I don’t want to think. I just want you inside me now.”

Fuck.

This time when she kissed me, I picked her up and laid her back down on the bed kissing a path from her lips to her neck. She moaned, pushing up against me with her hands in my hair while I worked my way down to her breast.

“I will buy you new ones,” I told her as ripped the bra from her, allowing her breasts to bounce in freedom, and pulled her underwear off. She glared at me but only for a moment before closing her eyes as I pinched her nipples.

“Harder,” she asked. So I did, pulling on them before taking them into my mouth. She was already rocking against me, and I knew she wanted me inside her, but I wouldn’t give in just yet.

My hands traveled down to cup her, and she arched up in pleasure.

“Just fuck me already, Liam.” She moaned, grinding herself into my hands.

“No,” I replied, placing three fingers in her. I watched, enjoying how she looked as she met her pleasure with my hands. I moved my fingers faster and deeper into her wet core. Each time she let out small moans of pleasure, and one of her hands went to my chest while the other pinched her breast. Watching her, this hungry for my cock, made my desire for her grow even more. I made sure to take mental pictures of this.

“Liam, your cock.”

“No.” I snickered, fucking her with my fingers even more, until she was so close that I pulled out of her.

She stared at me furious and wide-eyed. She looked enraged, and all I could do was lick my fingers of her juices.

She watched me for a moment before tackling me. I stared up at her in amusement, holding on to her thighs as she ripped my pants to get at my dick. She didn’t have to wait because the moment she pulled my pants from me it sprung up before us. This was why I chose to go without boxers. She glared at me, grabbing onto me, and I bucked up at her unable to control myself in her hands.

“You want this just as bad as I do,” she said, and I was almost tempted to tell her no fucking duh.

However, when she eased her way onto me, I couldn’t even think straight. My hips began to move, pushing my cock entirely in her.

She was moving too slowly, watching me struggle to fight back the urge to ram my way in her until she couldn’t walk.

“How quickly the tables can turn,” she whispered. I gasped when she leaned down to kiss my chest.

Grabbing on to her waist and hair, I held her on top of me before sitting up. I was done playing around. I just wanted to fuck her so deep that she wouldn’t be able to see straight.

“And how quickly they change back.” Gripping her waist, I forced her to move along with me, fucking her as we sat in the middle of my bed.

She looked me in the eyes as I looked into hers. Our lips were only inches apart, breathing each other in as she rode me. Reaching up, I brushed the side of her face and pulled her hair, along with her head, back so I could kiss her neck. Then I pushed her down onto the bed and rammed myself harder.

She moaned, and I smiled. “Fucking Jesus, Liam.”

Leaning down, I kissed the side of her face before whispering, “Not even he can save you from this now.”

Holding onto her wrist with one hand and gripping her thigh with the other, I fucked her pussy hard, ramming farther and farther inside her as she trembled in pleasure.

“Fuck, Mel,” I yelled as I felt her walls tighten around me. But even then I didn’t stop. I wanted to fuck her pretty little brain out, so I let go of her hands and grabbed on to her hips. I fucked her like she was a bitch in heat. I went quickly. I went deeply. I went in and out so many times I couldn’t even see straight, and she was screaming my name while clawing at my back. She had come twice already, and I would keep making her come until she was filled with only me.

Slowing my thrusts down only slightly, my head went back as I released in her just as she came for the third time. Drained, I forced myself to hover over her, not wanting to crush her. However, she surprised me and pulled me on top of her. So I just laid there on her breast, leaving small kisses on her neck.

“Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me for sex.” In fact, she could have it anytime she fucking wanted.

“Not only for the sex, Liam.” Stopping my kisses, I sat up to stare in her eyes, but she refused to look at me.

“My dear wife, you do not have to thank me for that either.” I kissed her cheek before finally pulling out of her. I was going to bring up condoms later, and hopefully, she didn’t want them either.

We didn’t speak for a moment as I lay next to her. Instead, the smell of sex and our breathing was the only thing to fill the room.

“What do you want from me, Liam?”

I wasn’t sure how to say it without . . . without sounding like a pansy. But I knew if I lied she would know, and the last thing our relationship could handle was a lie, whether it was big or small.

“I want you to love me,” I said softly. “But if not, then I want it to be the closest thing to you loving me. I want your loyalty. I want your honesty. I want you by my side and no one else’s. I want your body. I want your mind. I want to know your hopes and dreams so I could one day make them reality.”

I paused, knowing the sicker, inner-darkness part of me was about to speak. But that was who I was, and I wanted her to know it. I hadn’t even realized I wanted it until now.

“I want you to be willing to kill for me. I want you to be the same killer I am and not flinch away from the blood. I want you to revel in the blood alongside me. I want you to help me take down every fucker who stands in the way of a Callahan.”

She was silent, and so was I as we lay there.

“The second part of that I can do with ease,” she finally replied. “The first, the love. I haven’t loved anything in a long time. I cared for Orlando deeply, but we were never close. I spent most of my life training. He was working. I wouldn’t know where to start with love.”

It wasn’t a no. It was just a how, and I would have to show her. I took her hand, kissing it before sitting up.

“We will start with getting to know each other,” I replied, loving how she looked in my bed . . . our bed.

“Know each other?”

“Like what the fuck is your favorite color, and other not important, but important things like that.”

“It’s teal. I do not know why, but it’s teal.”

Smiling, I got up, naked as the day I was born, and grabbed the plate of food, the wine, and the files, and placed them before us on the bed.

She picked up the wine and smirked. “You know my favorite wine.”

“I do,” I replied, uncorking it and not telling her how I knew. She didn’t need a cup and drank straight from the bottle before handing it to me. I drank as well, laughing in my mind at how far I had come. Had it been any other female, I would have seen them as less of a woman. But with Mel, it only made her sexier to me. Everything she did made her sexier.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked, taking a bite of sandwich.

“I don’t have one.”

She shook her head at me.

“Favorite movie?” I asked her.

“Shawshank Redemption,” she said.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. What’s yours then?” she asked.

“Goodfellas,” I said, winking and causing her to roll her pretty brown eyes at me.

“Of course.”

“I’m also a huge superhero nerd.”

She looked me over before nodding. “I can see that.”

“Shut up,” I said as she laughed. It wasn’t forced, or harsh, but soft like bells chiming in the wind.

She brought her legs in, and I noticed she was still wearing her white heels, which meant a few things. One, I fucked her in her heels and that was fucking hot. Two, she looked fucking sexy sitting on my bed naked with only heels on, and third, she almost always wore white shoes. I would make a note of that for whenever I bought her something, but still.

“Why do you wear white heels all the time? Is it an Italian fashion statement or something?”

She froze for a moment, before her shoulders dropped and her eyes glazed over.

“Orlando and my mother, Aviela, fought often when I was a child. I was young, but even I knew something was wrong. On the outside they put on a show of this happy, well-off couple, but really, my mom was living in a different wing of the house. She even spent most of her time in Italy. Sometimes, after her fights with my father, I wouldn’t see her for weeks. When they were young and fell for each other hard, my father didn’t want to lose her, so he only told her about what he did for a living after they were married.” She frowned, drinking from the bottle again.

“Shit.” There was no way a relationship in our lives could work if we didn’t make it clear who we were from the get go.

“Yep.” She shook her head. “From what I gathered, my mom was a hippie. She hated violence, and like all hippies, she protested. My grandparents wouldn’t let her get a divorce, and so she wore white gloves. Basically, she was telling Orlando every time he saw her that her hands were clean. She told him if he could go a week without killing, she would take them off and he could touch her. But it never happened. My father turned to whores, pretending they were her, and she fell in love with her bodyguard. However, she was pregnant with me, and my father told me that she miscarried once while they were dating, so she didn’t want to risk anything the second time around. They tried to stick it out for my sake, but Orlando finally gave up trying to win her over and they agreed to let me spend holidays with him. It was like that until the plane crash.”

“And so you wear the white shoes . . .”

“Because my hands aren’t clean, but . . .” She half smiled. “When I see them, I think of her and I don’t feel like I never had a mother. I just see a woman with white gloves.”

“That’s . . .”

“Really weird I know. That’s something no one knew about me but Orlando, but you asked.”

I cupped the side of her face. “It is odd, but it makes sense to me. I didn’t realize it was so deep. I wouldn’t have asked.”

“No, you would have most likely looked into it behind my back.” She shook her head. “I’d rather get all the skeletons out now while we are both civil and sexually satisfied.”

I smirked at that. “I’m not sexually satisfied yet.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Relax, tiger. Tell me about you.”

Grabbing the wine, I took a deep breath before knocking back a drink. She went deep into her past and shared something no one alive knew, with the exception being me. She trusted me. I would have to trust her. I just didn’t know how to start.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to, Mel,” I said softly. “I want to, and I will. I haven’t traveled this deep in me for a long time.”

“Is it about your childhood?” she asked, and I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. “I don’t know anything other than that you were sick once and tormented for it.”

I started slowly. “I was born a twin. Evelyn was on her way to a fundraiser with my brother when one of Vance’s people drove them off the road and into a tree. The driver was able to get Neal out, but Evelyn went into labor and couldn’t move. When the paramedics came and got her she, was already pushing my sister out. But she never cried, or even took a breath, and when they got to the hospital I was stuck. They had to pull, and because of that my shoulder was broken. My heart and lungs weren’t fully developed yet, and I barely even cried. It was more like I was gasping for air. They didn’t think I was going to make it, but I did. However my growth, weight, and speech were stunted, and on top of it I was blessed with clubfeet.”

For some odd reason, even though I didn’t remember it, I always felt a pain in my shoulder when I thought about it.

“Evelyn went into a deep depression, and as much as she loved me, she couldn’t look at me without seeing her dead baby girl in her hands, so she stayed away. In all honesty, my earliest memory of her isn’t until I was maybe twelve. It was my father who spent most of his time with me at the hospital. Over the years, he read articles from the paper and would tell me how important my future was while the doctors did tests and I went through treatment. I remember him losing his shit at doctors once . . . or twice. All that reading and teaching he did stuck with me, though. By the time I could finally leave the hospital and go to school, I was well beyond any twelve-year-old. One moment I was at Saint John’s Hospital, the next I was Northside College Preparatory High School with Neal, who had a reputation as a badass.” I laughed at the memory. Students almost shit themselves when Neal was pissed at them.

“He was captain of the football team, a wrestler, and played hockey and every other sport that let him destroy guys for fun. So naturally, I looked up to him, but in school he stayed away from me. I, shaky legs and all, tried out for the football team only to have balls thrown at my back. The coach took pity on me and made me the water boy.  One day, some of Neal’s friends pushed me down a flight of stairs before putting me in a locker with their dirty clothes. Neal didn’t know I was there. He just walked in when his friends were pissing on my clothes and told them to chill out, that I was my father’s favorite and he would have to deal with my mental shit later. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t. I hadn’t taken my medication that morning and ended up having a seizure in the fucking locker.” I almost wanted to laugh because it was so fucked up.

“I was shaking so badly that the locker shook with me in it, and the coach found me. I ended up in the hospital with my mom crying and praying over me. I had been in a coma for a week, and she promised God she would be a better mother if he just made me healthy. They ran tests, gave me drugs. Declan, who had spent most of his time to himself after his parents died, came to me and told me they burned down the house of the fucker who put me in the locker. Neal and I don’t take trips down memory lane. I think I got better in spite of him.”

I had almost forgotten she was sitting across from me when she handed me the bottle of wine again.

It wasn’t better than brandy, but it was good enough.

“Okay, you win most depressing childhood. You should have cut his dick off and shoved it down his throat.” I coughed as I took a drink, before smiling at her.

“I was twelve.”

She shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck. Neal’s dick and the fucker’s dick, or anyone else who was there, would have to live with it, the assholes.”

She didn’t know it, but for someone who didn’t know how to love, she was sure doing a good job.

“Noted.” She was the best thing in my life, and it only took three fucking days. She made me excited for the future.

“Now I don’t feel bad for shooting Neal,” she replied, falling back on the bed, and I allowed my eyes to wander up her legs, then her thighs and her stomach before reaching her breasts.

“Did you ever feel bad?” I asked her, pushing the tray of wine and food off the bed and onto the floor. It shattered, and I knew it would make a huge mess, but I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted my wife.

She watched me as I rose above her.

“What were the files for?”

I had forgotten all about them. Grabbing her back, I pulled her up against me. “First pleasure, then work.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” she replied, wrapping her legs around my waist.

“We make our own rules from now on, Mrs. Callahan.” I kissed her forehead, cupping her ass and thrusting into her tight pussy. Her lips went straight to my neck.

“Rule number one. After, or during, our meetings and chats we make sure to fuck each other’s brains out.” I slammed into her. “Agreed?”

She gripped on to my shoulders and moaned. “Agreed,” she said, before pushing me back and holding me there.

“Rule two. We never use a fucking condom. Agreed?” She hissed at me, and I almost came. She was fucking perfect.

“Fuck yes.”

I flipped her over and pulled out of her, grabbed the lube on the bedside table, and squeezed a generous amount before burying myself in her tight ass.

“Rule three.” I moaned out loudly, unable to think when she raised onto her knees, pushing her ass against me with her hands wrapped around my neck.

“Rule three. We trust no one but each other,” she said to me, and I could no longer control my need. Grabbing onto her ass as I did her waist earlier in the evening, I slammed myself into her. Pushing her back down, I pulled on her hair as though it were reins.

“Agreed.”

“Fuck, Liam.” She moaned as she came, and when she did I pulled out of her, allowing my seed to slip onto her back.

It was sick how much I enjoyed it. She was mine. She was all fucking mine.

Rising, she turned to me and slapped me in the face, something I was starting to fucking enjoy even as it burned. It was one of the many things that made Mel different.

“Now I have to take a shower,” she hissed at me, getting up, and I looked to her proud and in lust. She had found the monster inside me and fed it. Sadly, I didn’t think it would ever have enough of her.

She headed over to my bathroom and stopped to look back me. “Are you tired already Mr. Callahan? I still have more rules.”

She’s fucking perfect.

I almost groaned. We were going to break each other, and it only made me more excited. Jumping up, my cock standing alert and searing for her, I let her lead me into the waiting shower.

She’s fucking perfect. Even as she pushed me down onto my knees and forced my face into her pussy, I would happily drink her in.

MELODY

I said nothing, choosing one of his clean shirts to wear as he spoke with a dark-haired man at the door.

Taking a seat on his bed, I watched him carefully as two maids ran in quickly to clean up the mess we had made with the wine and food. Neither of them dared to look up. Instead, they worked as quickly as possible.

I wasn’t sure what was going on between Liam and me, but the untrusting part of my mind was telling me to put on the damn breaks. We had only known each other for three, now four days, seeing as how it was still very early in the day. Neither of us was tired, which was odd because we had done nothing but have mind-blowing sex for hours. The only time we had spoken was when we had confessed some of our darkest secrets. He put me on edge because he made me trust him. He told me the truth, and then stepped up in the one thing I knew I did not have the strength to do.

Orlando had wanted to make sure he died after my wedding because he didn’t want me to feel alone. I tried to tell him I wasn’t lonely, but he always told me the path of a Boss was a dark and lonely one. I never had friends. I never socialized with anyone other than my men and the servants at our home. I always kept myself busy learning languages, studying, and training. I never thought too much about it. Not until now. Not until Orlando, the only family I had, had died. It hit me like a tsunami. I did not have anyone. And then there was Liam.

For the first time I understood why Orlando had pushed me so hard into accepting him, because even though I didn’t trust Liam yet, the promise of future trust was there. He was now the only family I had. A fact that confused me.

I felt like I could trust him. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to be what he needed, because now I needed somebody. I never realized how much Orlando filled that role for me. Over the last four years since I had become Boss, he was the one person I vented to. The one person I used as a whiteboard for all my plans, telling him each and every step just because I needed to get it out of my head. I told him when I was stressed, when I just wanted to murder someone, and when I did murder someone. Orlando was my true right-hand, and now Liam was taking his place. Not in a creepy Liam is my daddy type way, but more like Liam was now the only person I could freely speak with.

Everyone else was under me, everyone else I didn’t respect. Orlando had been it. Now Liam was.

“You were right,” Liam replied, his voice serious as he took a seat in front of me. The maids were gone. I hated that he was in pajama bottoms. I missed staring at his ass.

“I know.” I smirked. “But about what?”

Rolling his eyes at me, he handed me the file before heading to his desk. He grabbed his brandy and poured us both a cup. Looking over the flight transcript, I grinned.

“Amory is on his way to Austria,” I read aloud, taking the glass he offered.

“Yes, and I was thinking about using it as a cover.” He frowned, drinking slowly. I waited for him to go on, but he didn’t.

“Well?” I asked, annoyed that I had to waste words.

He eyed me carefully as though I were a child before he spoke, and it pissed me off. “Orlando didn’t want the world knowing he was sick. I was thinking of causing a fake accident and let rumor spread it was Amory.”

He stopped, and in my mind I thought it was perfect. But he misread my facial expression.

“I don’t mean to use your father’s death as a chess piece, nor do I want to—”

“Liam, shut the hell up. I’m not a child whose feelings will get hurt. Yes, I care for Orlando, but he is dead. I knew it was coming for years. It sucks, but don’t treat me as if I’m glass. My father would have loved to be used to screw the Valero. So let’s do what we do best—a game of chess.”

I was not going to be seen as emotional because my daddy was dead. Nor would I let Liam forget who I was, even though our relationship was changing. I was still a fucking Boss, and I still had work to do.

He raised an eyebrow to at me before leaning back and smirking. “Glass you are not, wife. Very well. We will allow Amory to think he killed Orlando. The bastard will be so full of himself he’ll take bigger risks, thinking he took out the great Iron Hands. When he goes to Morocco in the next couple of weeks, we will go to Italy and burn down some cars.”

“Vance will be forced to react and bark orders at Amory, who will tell Ryan, and when we know, we will keep bleeding him dry,” I replied.

“Death by a thousand cuts.”

“And then cut off his head,” I said, raising my glass before knocking it back.

He handed me another file, this one full of pictures of all his men.

The first was of a hazel-eyed, dark-haired man in his early thirties. “Patrick Darragh, is like my malware. He can make sure nothing that we don’t want in the press gets in the press, and he can also get anything on air in seconds.”

“The next is Dylan Cormac,” he said as I looked at the green-eyed man. “He is my weapons expert. If you want it, he can get it, no matter what it is.”

I filed through all the photos quickly. “You fucking Irish breed like rabbits.”

“Speaking of, how many kids do you want?”

I glared at him, not sure if I should shoot him or not. “You will find out when I’m okay with the idea of being barefoot and pregnant.”

“Why do I have a feeling that that isn’t a measurable amount of time?”

“How about we get to know each other, and in a few years, we can discuss this topic again,” I said, and he grinned, the fucker. I knew he just couldn’t wait until I was round and fat, unable to drink, and stuck in bed while he fucked over the world. Hell to the fucking no to that.

“Was that Rule Four?”

“I guess so.”