Текст книги "Beautifully Loyal"
Автор книги: Nicole Edwards
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Also by Nicole Edwards
The Alluring Indulgence Series
Kaleb
Zane
Travis
Holidays with the Walker Brothers
Ethan
Braydon
Sawyer
Brendon
The Club Destiny Series
Conviction
Temptation
Addicted
Seduction
Infatuation
Captivated
Devotion
Perception
Entrusted
Adored
The Dead Heat Ranch Series
Boots Optional
Betting on Grace
Overnight Love
The Devil’s Bend Series
Chasing Dreams
Vanishing Dreams
The Devil’s Playground Series
Without Regret
The Sniper 1 Security Series
Wait for Morning
Never Say Never
The Southern Boy Mafia Series
Beautifully Brutal
Beautifully Loyal
Standalone Novels
A Million Tiny Pieces
Writing as Timberlyn Scott
Unhinged
Unraveling
Chaos
Beautifully Loyal
Southern Boy Mafia
Book 2
Nicole Edwards
Nicole Edwards Limited
PO Box 806
Hutto, Texas 78634
www.NicoleEdwardsLimited.com
www.slipublishing.com
Copyright © Nicole Edwards, 2015
All rights reserved.
This is a self-published title.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Beautifully Loyal– A Southern Boy Mafia Novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Image: © blueskyimage | 123rf.com (24400690)
Cover Design: © Nicole Edwards Limited
Editing: Blue Otter Editing www.BlueOtterEditing.com
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-939786-52-4
ISBN (print): 978-1-939786-51-7
Ménage Romance
M/M/F, M/M, M/F interactions
Mature Audience
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all the strong, empowered women out there.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Breakdown of the Adorites
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Keep reading for an excerpt from:
One
Note from the author:
The Southern Boy Mafia series is a spin off from the Sniper 1 Security series. It can be read without reading the Sniper 1 Security series, however, if you’d like to read more about the Kogans and the Trexlers, you should certainly check them out.
I’ve been known to cross my series over so that you can keep up with the characters from other stories, but the intent is always to keep them separate so they can be read independently.
Enjoy!
Much love,
Nicole Edwards
Breakdown of the Adorites
As with a lot of first books within a series, there is a lot of groundwork to establish. Below is an outline of the families within this series.
THE ADORITES
Parents: Samuel and Genevieve
Children: Maximillian, Brent, Ashlynn, Aidan, Victor, Madison
THE KOGANS (from Sniper 1 Security)
Parents: Casper and Elizabeth
Children: Conner, Hunter, Trace, Courtney
Grandchildren: Shelby (Conner’s daughter)
THE TREXLERS (from Sniper 1 Security)
Parents: Bryce and Emily
Children: Ryan/RT, Colby, Clay, Marissa, Austin
BRYCE’S YOUNGER BROTHER’S FAMILY:
Parents: TJ (Bryce’s younger brother) and Stephanie
Children: Tanner, Kira, Evan, Dominic
Chapter One
Friend? Okay, if you say so.
Seventeen years ago
Seventh grade
“What the fuck’re you lookin’ at, asshole?” Leyton Matheson growled as he made his way through the hallway of his junior high school. All eyes seemed to be on him. No matter which way he moved, where he turned, they were all staring as though he were some sort of abomination.
Being the new kid sucked some serious ass.
God, he hated this place.
Really hated it.
“Dude’s got his panties in a twist,” someone mumbled from his left. Could’ve been a boy, or possibly a girl, but he doubted it was the latter. The gender of the high-pitched voice wasn’t all that discernible, though Leyton had a feeling he knew exactly who it was. The same asshole who’d been goading him since his very first day.
Leyton stopped walking and turned slightly, his eyes scanning the group of boys lining the lockers, the same boys who had been snickering and pointing when he approached. He had no idea who’d spoken up, but clearly they didn’t want him to see them, either, because no one stepped forward.
“You got somethin’ to say?” Leyton countered, watching each face, peering directly into every set of eyes. “If you do, then step up or shut up.”
He was so freaking tired of doing this same dance every day.
One of the bigger guys in the bunch took a step forward—a first this week—and Leyton smirked. The guy might’ve been taller than the others by several inches, but Leyton still had several more on him. At least four.
“What’re you gonna do?” the boy asked, glaring at Leyton from beneath his floppy red hair. “Huh?”
Leyton welcomed the adrenaline rush as he slowly advanced on the kid, causing the other boys to scatter to the side. Even as a group, they weren’t as tough as they’d wanted Leyton to believe, clearly.
“Come on, freckle face,” Leyton provoked. “You wanna piece of me?”
“Bring it on, pretty boy.” The kid’s words belied his actions, because instead of stepping forward, he moved back once again.
Leyton towered over every damn kid standing in the hallway, and he was only twelve years old. Earlier in the year, he’d skyrocketed in height, surprising most people who knew him, especially his father, who had taken Leyton’s sudden growth spurt to mean he could beat on him more than usual—which now meant sometimes twice a day. Although his father still had a good eight inches on him, Leyton was quickly gaining ground and figured it wouldn’t be long before he could meet the old man eye to eye. He was counting down the freaking minutes until that day came.
The old bastard had been knocking him around since he was little, shortly after Leyton’s loser of a mother had skipped out on them when he was only four years old. He didn’t know where she’d gone, and his father never seemed to want to answer his questions, so he’d finally given up, not caring. It was enough to put up with one fuckup for a parent; no need worrying about the other.
But Leyton had been making do until recently. If it hadn’t been for the fact his father was a no-good piece of crap, he still would be. It was his father’s fault he was here in the first place, which made Leyton hate him all the more.
Unfortunately, thanks to his drinking, Carl Matheson had gotten fired from his construction job, and in looking for something new, he’d found an opportunity in Dallas, which was how Leyton had ended up at this shitty-ass school with these shitty-ass kids. He’d been forced to leave all of his friends in Fort Worth behind, and now, based on the freckle-faced redhead moving his way, he wasn’t doing too hot in making new ones.
“Come on, chickenshit,” Leyton snarled, wanting to provoke the kid into hitting him first simply because it was a challenge.
“You got a problem?” the kid sneered, baring a mouthful of braces that glinted in the harsh fluorescent lights from above. “Or you just always an asshole?”
“Always,” Leyton confirmed. “You always that ugly? Or is it a special occasion?” Leyton snapped back, itching for a fight.
He’d been at the school for a little over a week, and he was ready to go back to Fort Worth with or without his asshole father. A surefire way to get Carl to pay attention would be by picking a fight and getting expelled, so Leyton had been doing his best for a few days, but until now, no one had stood up to him.
“Watch your mouth, asshole,” the kid advised, his fists clenching at his sides, his freckled cheeks turning redder with every breath he took.
“Or what? You gonna punch me in the knee?” Leyton glanced across the hall, noticing the door to one of the classrooms was opening.
A teacher, maybe?
Not waiting to find out, Leyton took advantage of the distraction, throwing a punch directly at the kid’s face, hitting him square in the jaw. Surprisingly, Red was resilient, returning the punches until the two of them were grappling, shoes squeaking on tile, bodies slamming into the lockers lining both walls while the other kids cheered and spurred them on. Leyton got in more punches than he took, trying to do the most damage, but unfortunately, the fight appeared as though it would be interrupted much too soon.
“Boys!” a woman yelled. “Stop that right this minute.”
A whistle sounded, but Leyton didn’t release his grip on the kid’s shirt, continuing to throw punches, some hitting their mark, some not.
Anger swelled inside him, making his hits that much harder as he thought about the way his father had slammed him against the wall that morning when Leyton had been trying to eat breakfast. Apparently he’d screwed up again, eating the last of the Cheerios and drinking the last bit of milk—both of which had come from the food pantry at the church down the street. Not that either had been enough to sustain him for a day, but he’d been starving since he’d been sent to bed without dinner last night because his father simply hadn’t wanted to look at him anymore. Or so he’d said.
Another whistle sounded, followed by another shout, this one from a different woman.
Leyton peered up, and while he was distracted, the redhead lurched again, but sensing the move, Leyton stepped out of the way, spinning quickly and helping the kid into the lockers. Headfirst.
Red’s posse didn’t seem to like the fact that their leader was now crumpled on the floor, but Leyton wasn’t too worried about them. He could take every last one of them down with his bare hands if he needed to. Defending himself had become second nature, considering he’d been dodging (and taking) punches from his alcoholic father for most of his life.
When the kid was back on his feet, Leyton beckoned him forward with his fingers. “You give up yet?”
Whirling around when a hand landed on his shoulder, Leyton was ready to take on the new threat, but the teacher he came up against wasn’t one of the women who’d been yelling at them to stop. No, this was the football coach, the big guy with the bald head, bushy eyebrows, and crooked nose who taught Leyton’s history class.
“That’s enough,” the man growled. “To the office. Now.”
Leyton glared at the redhead, pissed that they’d been busted, although it had been his plan in the first place.
“You, too,” the coach told the other kid. “It’s time to call some parents.”
Shit. That was the last thing Leyton had expected. He’d gladly take any punishment they wanted to dish out—in-school suspension, expulsion, hell, he’d even help clean the school—but dealing with his father hadn’t been on his list of possible outcomes.
He’d learned to avoid Carl at all costs.
The coach marched them down the hall while kids stared back at them, pointing and whispering as they moved past. When they reached the principal’s office, Leyton was ordered to take a seat while the coach took the other kid with him.
Great.
Dropping into the chair, Leyton let his head hit the wall behind him. He could feel his eye swelling up, and he figured it’d be black before school was out if it wasn’t already. He knew all too well what it felt like to have a bruised and battered face, though most of the time it was his father who delivered the punches.
“What’re you in here for?” a girl asked as she walked by.
“It’s apparent, ain’t it?” he countered, pointing at his face.
“You get in a fight?”
He nodded, not feeling it necessary to explain the obvious.
“Does the other kid look worse than you?” she asked.
God, he hoped so.
“Brittany, get back to class,” the receptionist at the desk ordered.
Brittany rolled her eyes but did as she was told, leaving Leyton sitting there by himself, waiting.
Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, Leyton stared down at his hands. His knuckles were busted and bleeding, but he couldn’t feel them. Hell, he couldn’t feel anything at the moment. The adrenaline rush was waning, leaving him tired and, yes, still pissed off.
A pair of tennis shoes came into view directly in front of him. Sitting back, Leyton looked up at a dark-haired boy who was staring down at him, golden eyes narrowed on Leyton. There was something about the kid, something that told Leyton not to fuck with him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he got the feeling that mouthing off to him wouldn’t end in his favor.
Before either of them said anything, Red came waltzing out of the office, a stupid grin on his face.
“Looks like it’s your turn, pretty boy.”
The newcomer turned to Red, a stern expression on his face. “Don’t.”
The single word was spoken softy. Not a shout, not a whisper, but it had definitely gotten Red’s attention. Red’s face blanched, his mouth hanging open as he stared back at the boy. Leyton sat up straight, waiting for the inevitable confrontation, ready to defend himself again if it came to that.
“Tommy. Back to class,” the receptionist called out, peering at them from beneath the glasses perched on her narrow nose.
Leyton briefly wondered which of them was Tommy, but then Red answered that question for him. “I’m goin’,” he grumbled, glaring at Leyton.
“Back off,” the dark-haired kid told Tommy firmly. “And don’t let me catch you causin’ problems again. Feel me?”
Tommy nodded and then scurried out of the office, leaving Leyton staring after him.
Leyton noticed the receptionist wasn’t looking their way, as though she was pretending they weren’t less than two feet from her desk. Interesting since she’d ushered Brittany and Tommy out but hadn’t said a word to this guy.
Who was he? The principal’s kid or something?
The coach appeared, but before he said anything, he looked between Leyton and the stranger. “We got a problem here?”
“Not at all,” the kid assured him in a tone that seemed far too formal for someone his age. “I was just gonna make sure he made it back to class. You don’t need him anymore, do you?”
What? Leyton was confused. He was about to be suspended for fighting, or at the very least, he was going to have to deal with his father. Or so he’d thought.
But that wasn’t what happened.
“No,” the coach answered. “He’s good to go.”
The kid nodded at Leyton.
Getting to his feet, he stared around the office, noticing the adults in the room seemed almost scared of this guy. Which didn’t make a bit of sense. He couldn’t have been more than twelve, thirteen tops, if Leyton had to guess.
“What’s your name?” the kid asked Leyton directly as they headed through the door back into the hallway.
Leyton offered his first name, but that was all.
The kid smiled, still staring back at him.
“And you are?” Leyton inquired.
“Name’s Max. Max Adorite.”
“Is that name s’posed to mean somethin’ to me?” Leyton asked, still confused by the turn of events.
An older kid passing by chuckled.
Max’s grin widened. “Not yet. But it will. One day, it definitely will.”
Leyton would later learn that no truer words had ever been spoken.
Chapter Two
Temptation, anyone? Going once...
Present Day
Seventeen years later, November 1 st
“No, I get it,” Leyton grumbled into the phone as he stared at the trees lining the long, narrow drive. “Not what I asked, but I get it. I’ll see you Friday night. That gives you five days to figure it out.” When the Escalade came to a stop, Leyton glanced out the window into the dreary afternoon, the phone still to his ear. “Oh, and Tony, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get it figured out before then. Otherwise, it’ll be a shitty end to your week.”
Stabbing the end button on the phone screen, Leyton climbed out of the Escalade, adjusted his suit jacket as he walked around to meet Rock, who stood a few feet away in front of Max Adorite’s sprawling mansion. It wasn’t that late, only four in the afternoon, but the clouds had darkened the sky enough to trigger the sensors on the landscape lighting, so the various spotlights hidden in the shrubbery surrounding the house lit up the white-stone walls and highlighted the drizzle that came down from the sky. As they moved toward the door, Leyton spotted the familiar red lights from the many security cameras keeping an eye on the place.
Stepping up onto the porch, Leyton smiled when he noticed a jack-o’-lantern sitting off in the corner. Max sure had come a long way if he was carving pumpkins to celebrate Halloween. And considering that particular holiday was now behind them, he wondered why it was still there.
“You ready for this, boss?” Rock asked with a smirk.
“No, but I’m here, ain’t I?”
“You might wanna keep that smile on that pretty-boy face of yours or Max’s woman’s gonna start askin’ questions.”
Rock was right. Leyton had learned if he wanted to avoid endless questions, he had to smile. Although he was certain Courtney saw right through his façade, a smile did keep her questions at bay. Most of the time, anyway.
“Don’t be a smartass,” Leyton offered with a grin.
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have nothin’ to say,” Rock joked, his straight white teeth flashing back at Leyton as he grinned.
Rock—whose birth name was Taye Smith, though only his parents called him that—was Leyton’s right hand these days. They’d given the massive black man the nickname when they’d first met him after he applied for a bouncer job at Devil’s Playground six years ago. At six foot seven inches, two hundred eighty-five pounds, the guy had earned the moniker because when he wasn’t willing to move, there was no way of getting him to. Not only was he a beast due to his overwhelming size, he was also cocky and smart as hell. A triple threat, Dane—another of Max’s main enforcers—called him.
Ever since Leyton had been promoted within the ranks of the Southern Boy Mafia, becoming second-in-command—the underboss—he’d been required to give up his old job of security to the big boss, Max, and in turn had found himself with a bodyguard or two of his own. Rock was always at his side; his one and only job was to ensure Leyton didn’t get his head blown off. Or that was the way Leyton figured it, anyway. Not that he’d let anything happen to Rock, because, after all, over the last two and a half months, the two of them had become close friends.
It’d taken Leyton a few weeks to make the decision regarding which of their employees he wanted at his side, but Leyton had known all along who he would’ve preferred to watch his back. Rock was his first and only choice. Honest, loyal, but most importantly, he minded his own business.
No, choosing hadn’t been the issue. The problem he’d had was taking one of Max’s main enforcers away from him. They all knew that Max was the one who needed someone to watch his back these days. Being that Max was the official boss of the Adorite family—dubbed the Southern Boy Mafia by the news-hungry press known for glamorizing the dark underworld—he was always a target. Then again, the attempt on Leyton’s life last month had proven that he’d definitely taken to his job quickly. People were beginning to see him as a force to be reckoned with. As they should.
But now, as Leyton made his way up to the door of Max’s house, ready to have dinner, Leyton didn’t feel like anything more than part of the family. He felt at home. His best friend since the seventh grade, Max Adorite was more like a brother to Leyton than a mere friend or an employer. He respected Max more than anyone he’d ever met and owed his life to the man.
The door opened, allowing them entry, and Leyton nodded at Dane. Until recently, Leyton had lived in the same house with Max. In fact, Leyton had been living in the same house as Max since he was sixteen years old and Max had taken him in. Once Max had moved out of his parents’ house, Leyton had followed, moving into the official role as Max’s right hand and never looking back.
He would’ve been content with that position, too, but the Adorites had had other plans for him. Once Leyton had become underboss, Max had insisted he get his own place, and Leyton hadn’t argued.
Though, as he gazed around the bright foyer, he had to admit, he missed the place. The downfall of living on his own was that the loneliness ate at him more often than not, but he figured he’d get used to it over time.
When he stepped inside, Dane, the man who’d taken Leyton’s previous post as Max’s right hand, greeted him with a grunt. The guy looked far scarier than he actually was. After an attack a few months ago, Dane was left with a nasty scar that ran the length of his face. Odd though it was, the man was still attractive, despite the gruesome disfigurement. Though it had healed, it’d done some serious damage, leaving his face partially paralyzed, but Dane acted as though it didn’t bother him. At least when he knew people were watching. As for how he truly felt about the whole thing, Leyton didn’t know, because, although they’d worked together for years, the two of them weren’t that close. It was no secret that Leyton kept his personal life to himself, but the same could be said about Dane—only multiply that tenfold. Hell, having known the man for at least ten years, Leyton didn’t even know if Dane had any siblings or not.
With a couple of grunts of acknowledgment, Leyton and Rock made their way into the dimly lit dining room, where the others were already seated, fancy place settings lining the impressive table—handmade from aged Mexican kiln-dried pinewood—in front of each of them. Walter Smythe, the elderly man who managed the house and did most of the cooking, waltzed by after placing a platter of food—salsa chicken from what he could tell—in the center of the table.
“Sorry I’m late,” Leyton said, forcing a smile as sixteen pairs of eyes all regarded him.
His gaze instantly homed in on one Adorite in particular. Ashlynn.
The first thing he noticed was that she’d lightened her usually dark hair; the ends were now a shimmering gold while the roots remained dark. As though the woman could get any more beautiful than she already was, she still caused his heart to miss a beat every time he looked at her. The seductive grin she shot him had his blood pressure spiking and his dick taking immediate notice. As usual, he ignored his dick, pulling his attention back to the others.
“Problems?” Max inquired from his position at the head of the table.
“No,” Leyton answered simply. Not yet, anyway.
“Good.”
Dinner with the Adorites had become a weekly ritual, one enthusiastically enforced by Max’s wife, Courtney, and backed by her husband. As it turned out, the newest member of the Adorite clan was as much about family as Max was. Despite the fact Courtney had married Max and put a slight rift between her and her own family—the owners of the elite security company, Sniper 1 Security—she still spent one night a week at her parents’ house, with Max in tow, and one night a week making sure the Adorites gathered together.
It was working out well.
Sort of.
As long as Leyton didn’t look at Ashlynn or find himself in close quarters with her or Jase Malone, Ashlynn’s right hand, he was fine. That was getting more and more difficult, because Ashlynn and Jase were taunting him. Or so it seemed.
“Where’s Mom?” Brent asked, his elbows resting on the table, Stetson dangling from the chair post behind him.
“She’s comin’,” Max replied easily. “When Dane went to get her, she was on the phone with the realtor.”
“Did she get a contract on the house?” Brent inquired.
Max nodded.
“Thank God,” Madison, the youngest Adorite, said. “I thought it would never sell. Did she get asking price?”
“More,” Genevieve Adorite said as she stepped into the room. “The offer is for almost double.”
Genevieve—known to most people as Genny—was an attractive woman. At fifty-five, the hard years she’d spent with a ruthless, brutal man were evident on her face. Far thinner than she should’ve been, Genny seemed to be battling her way back from a deep, painful depression. She rarely joined them for the family dinners, but Leyton knew Max had been encouraging her. And when Max asked for something, most people couldn’t tell him no, not even his own mother.
“Holy fuck,” Brent said with a whistle.
“I’m tellin’ you,” Aidan’s gravel-laced voice filled the space, “someone’s gonna turn that place into a mob museum.”
“More power to ’em,” Genevieve added with a strained chuckle. Leyton noticed she never did look anyone directly in the eye.
Since Samuel Adorite’s death a couple of months ago, Genevieve had moved out of the house where all five of her children had been raised—not necessarily by her—and had bought a place of her own. Oddly, the woman who’d spent years drowning her pain in booze and sex, ignoring the life she hadn’t wanted in the first place, was recovering nicely. Turned out, Samuel hadn’t been particular about who he had abused. His wife, his children, the hired help, the family dog … they’d all been fair game. Now that he was gone, things had actually gotten better. Considering.
“If they’re stupid enough,” Brent tacked on, “then I say go for it. I’m just glad we’re rid of that damn place.”
“The sale still has to go through,” Max noted.
“It will,” Brent assured his brother.
Leyton watched Brent, noticing his easy smile. Brent—twenty-seven and only now starting to take a real interest in the family business—was the most laid-back Adorite, aside from possibly Max’s youngest sister, Madison. When everyone else was talking business, those two usually attempted to derail the conversation, which explained the current topic. Not that Leyton blamed either of them. These days, business seemed to be the only thing they had to talk about.
Apparently, the dominoes had been tipped after Max’s mother had shot and killed Max’s father during a standoff back in July, followed by Max marrying the enemy—the daughter of a family who spent their days bringing down the bad guys. Those two events had ruffled some major feathers with the people they did business with. Granted, Max was dealing with the issues by doing what he always did—brushing them off. He didn’t force anyone to do business with him, but there were a lot of people indebted to the Adorites. Now that Samuel was dead and Max had taken over the organization, people were learning rather quickly that they only got one chance. Samuel had been volatile, and although he’d been ruthlessly cruel to anyone and everyone he came in contact with, he had enjoyed toying with people. Unlike his father, Max didn’t play games. Ever.
With the lull in conversation, Leyton turned to Max. “I’m meetin’ Tony at the warehouse on Friday,” Leyton said as he took a seat next to Brent after holding a chair out for Genevieve. “You wanna come along?”
Max held his gaze and nodded once. “We need to talk about a coupla things. After dinner.”
Leyton nodded in return. If Max felt it necessary to intervene, then things had gone too far. How well that spoke for Leyton’s ability to do his job, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to question it, either. He was still learning the ropes, after all.
“How’s the leg?” Ashlynn asked Leyton.
As much as he would’ve preferred not to look at her, that wasn’t possible when she was speaking directly to him. If he didn’t want Max to become suspicious, thinking that Leyton had a thing for Ashlynn—which admittedly he did, even though he shouldn’t—then he had to pretend that she didn’t affect him.
At all.
Not a fucking easy task when he’d been drawn to the woman for damn near half his life.
“Better.” Doing his best not to stare too long, Leyton couldn’t help but admire how fucking beautiful Ashlynn was. All that long, silky hair and those sparkling hazel eyes combined with a centerfold body and a sexy mean streak, she’d been the object of his many erotic fantasies for years.
“You were lucky,” Ashlynn told him, her eyes glittering as she stared back at him. “That asshole was tryin’ to kill you.”
Better me than you, he thought.
The attempt on his life had resulted in a nasty bullet hole in his upper thigh, but yes, Ashlynn was correct, one of their previous business associates—previous because he was now dead—hadn’t taken too kindly to Leyton’s tactics. In the end, the guy had died by Leyton’s bullet, and Leyton had endured a flesh wound that had hurt like a motherfucker.
“I was,” he admitted, peering around Brent and Jase to look at her, not breaking eye contact.
Due to Ashlynn’s position at the table on Max’s left side, her brother couldn’t see the mischievous gleam in Ashlynn’s eyes or the way she slowly ran her tongue over her plump lower lip, but Leyton could. He knew she was tempting him. Or trying to.
Ever since her twenty-sixth birthday party at Devil’s Playground, when Leyton had stumbled upon Ashlynn and Jase fucking in the VIP area, hearing his name mentioned during the erotic encounter, the tension between them had heated up significantly. Relatively speaking.
Ashlynn knew he had seen them, had overheard their conversation, and he suspected that had been her plan all along.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my dick. Are you thinkin’ about him right now?”
“God, yes.”
“Are you thinkin’ how good it’d feel if Leyton’s big dick was fillin’ your ass?”
