“You feel so fucking good,” I growled as I nipped at the skin of her shoulder.
Lia’s arms went around my neck, and she held on as I pulled her down onto me and pushed up with my hips. I looked down to where we were connected and watched my cock moving in and out of her.
“Watch,” I told her. “Watch me fuck you.”
Her eyes moved down, and her mouth hung open slightly as she panted hot breath across my face. Her pupils dilated as she watched us move together, and her breathing increased until she was nearly gasping.
“You like that? You like watching my cock in you?”
“Shit! Evan!”
“Come on me,” I commanded. “I want to feel you coming all over my cock.”
“Almost…” she panted as she set a slightly faster pace.
I drove into her again and again, grasping her ass in both hands as I pulled her against me until I felt her muscles clenching down, and she cried out. I kept up the tempo as she moaned and nearly collapsed against my chest.
“Fuck, yes!” I wrapped an arm around her waist as I brought her down one last time and poured semen deep inside of her.
“Jesus,” she muttered against my shoulder.
I laughed softly and kissed the top of her head, content to hold her there as long as she was willing to stay right where she was. It didn’t matter that the chair was digging into my ass uncomfortably—the rest of me felt too good to care.
I listened to her breathing slow and become steady. Her arms slacked slightly, and I realized she had fallen asleep on me. After unpacking shit, forced internet shopping, and a good, fierce fucking, she was completely worn out.
Cradling her head against my shoulder, I inhaled the scent of her hair and felt myself smile.
Gavino Greco wanted to meet me back at Quay, and it occurred to me I needed to know a bit more about the owners, bartender, and clientele, but it would have to wait for another time. When Micah called me back, they wanted to meet immediately.
Not one to be stupid, I brought both my Beretta in its shoulder holster and a blade, which fit nicely into my boot. As I entered the bar, I saw Gavino Greco, Craig Flannigan, who appeared to be acting as his bodyguard these days, Micah, and Micah’s uncle, Andrey Severinov.
Greco sat in the lounge area where Micah had been when we met previously with Andrey sitting next to him. Craig was standing to Greco’s right, and Micah took up a similar position on Andrey’s left. I evaluated each of them carefully as I approached the table.
Greco was wearing an expensive Italian suit not too different from the one I was wearing. He sat back in the booth too casually, making it look forced, which it probably was. He was uncomfortable with the situation, and his cheek twitched slightly, showing me his nervousness.
Craig Flannigan had shaved off the thick, red beard he usually had, and his hair had been cut shorter than it was when I had seen him last. He stood up straight to show off his height and had his feet positioned farther apart than they needed to be. He reminded me of a cat trying to make itself look bigger and more ferocious than it actually was. Still, there was a clear outline of a gun under his jacket, and he wasn’t trying to hide it. He wasn’t someone to underestimate though he wasn’t a bright guy at all. We’d been in close quarters before, and I’d gotten the better of him. The glare in his eyes told me he hadn’t forgotten.
Andrey Severinov was lanky and blond, much like his younger nephew. I hadn’t met him before, but I’d seen plenty of pictures of him. Of the group, he was the most difficult to read, his face calm and serene. Nothing in his posture indicated he was concerned about anything.
Micah was just grinning, but whether that was because he was getting in good with the bosses by bringing me to them for business endeavors or because they planned on killing me right here and now, I didn’t know.
I reached the table and looked directly into the face of Gavino Greco. I held out my hand, which he took slowly.
“A pleasure to meet with you under amenable circumstances, sir,” I said.
“Are they?” he asked cautiously as we shook hands.
“That’s my intent, sir.”
He raised his eyebrows at me and then glanced to Andrey.
“I don’t believe you’ve met,” he said. “Andrey Severinov, Evan Arden.”
“Good to finally meet you in person, sir.” I shook his hand as well.
“I know you by reputation,” Andrey said. He had a slight Russian accent that was not shared by his nephew. “I have to admit to being a little surprised in the way that we are meeting.”
“Things change,” I said simply. I nodded at both Craig and Micah and then took my seat across from the two men in charge.
“We shall see,” Andrey responded curtly.
“Ultimately, Mister Arden, I don’t trust you.” Greco leaned back and put his beefy arms up to lace his hands behind his head. I wanted to tie them back there and maybe knock him to the ground head first before putting a bullet in his brain, but I had to keep up pretenses.
“I can understand that, sir,” I replied. “We haven’t exactly been operating on the same side in the past. I can assure you, though, my loyalties simply come with a price tag associated with them.”
“You saying that Moretti doesn’t pay you enough anymore?”
It wasn’t an unexpected question, but I paused long enough to make him believe I had to think about it.
“My loyalty can be bought,” I said sternly. “My disloyalty, however—that gets earned.”
“And how exactly did this occur?” Greco wanted to know.
“I expect my employer to have my back if I end up in the slammer,” I said succinctly. “He didn’t. I’m done with him.”
“That’s it?”
“You don’t think that’s enough?” My tone was daring but only slightly. I narrowed my eyes to show my anger over the situation, and Greco seemed to buy into it.
“So now you are looking for other employment,” Gavino stated.
“From someone with the means to pay me, yes, sir,” I confirmed.
Gavino nodded his head slowly and then glanced at Andrey, who also nodded.
“What do you say to a trial run?” Greco suggested.
“Tell me what you have in mind.” I leaned back in my seat and took out a cigarette. Both Gavino and Andrey watched as I lit it and dropped the lighter back into my pocket. I looked back to Gavino and waited for him to explain.
“There is a man—a nuisance, shall we say?—who I would like to see out of my hair.”
“Name him.” I made sure I didn’t change my expression at all, though I had no idea what name he might pull out of his ass and demand I kill as a way of proving I’d work for him. It could be anyone.
“Lenny Yates.”
I knew the guy. He wasn’t all that high up in Rinaldo’s organization, and if I was going to be completely honest, I didn’t mind doing the hit, not that he was an asshole or anything, but because he wasn’t very important to the organization as a whole. He was more of a gofer than anything, which is why Greco had so much information on him in the first place. He was put out there to be an easier target than those who might actually be missed—a patsy to take the brunt of the violence directed toward the group if the time ever came.
Looked like the time had come.
“Consider it done,” I replied. I took a long drag off my cigarette and blew smoke up into the air. “You want his actual head delivered to you, or will a photo suffice?”