“I was just joking.” He laughed at me, and I punched him right in his fucking nose.
“Fuck, Jesus Christ, Mel!”
“Jesus Christ wouldn’t mess with a pregnant woman, you idiot.”
He shook his head wiping off his nose. “One of these motherfucking days—”
“Careful, Liam, you don’t want your child to hear you threatening his mother.”
He glared at me before smirking. He always smirked, or smiled, or laughed when I mentioned I was carrying his kid. It was like he was on drugs. Leaving him on the bed, I walked into the closet and grabbed my white heels along with a new dress shirt.
“Your breasts are bigger,” Liam said from behind me. I could feel the lust rolling off him in waves.
“I know, it’s how I figured out I was pregnant to begin with.” All my bras were custom made for me and me alone. When they no longer fit correctly, I knew. I had been the same size since I was sixteen.
“I should have noticed,” he whispered, closing the distance between us.
“Liam, don’t. We have to go.” I wanted him, but I also wanted to get back to my job and his dick was the reason why I was in this situation.
His eyes were glazed over when he ripped open the shirt I just buttoned. He stared at my breasts for a moment before pulling me into his chest. With one hand, he lifted me up, holding my ass.
“He’s a prisoner, he isn’t going anywhere.”
Grabbing his hair, I bit his lip. “Cork your cock. Put me down, and you will live to have sex another day. I have a job to do.”
Forcing myself out of his arms, I picked a random shirt and walked out. But not before hearing him curse and it was my turn to smirk. Pregnant or not, I ran shit.
LIAM
She left me so hard I had to take a quick shower so I wouldn’t have to face our men with a hard-on. When I walked down the stairs to the basement, I was met with a crowd of our men waiting for something. In the interrogation room sat one of Valero’s men chained to his chair. However, my wife was nowhere to be found. It took me a total of eleven minutes to take a shower and dressed. She should have been here already.
He didn’t even need for me to ask, he nodded to second door in the room, where Eric stood in front of and he opened it upon my gaze. Stepping inside, I found my Mel sitting in front of a severed hand with a rod through its middle finger. Fedel and Neal stood beside her as she just stared at it.
“It’s Dr. Anderson’s hand,” she told me without looking away. “They left another note.”
Fedel handed me the letter.
We planned to send his whole body, however, we got a little carried away. All we could save was his hand. But that’s all a doctor needs right? So sad he won’t help you like he helped your mother when she was pregnant . . . you’re going to need all the help you can get.
XOXO
A&S
“When did this arrive?” I hissed to Fedel and Neal.
“The men at the gate checked it a few minutes before you got here,” Neal said.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a deep breath. “Leave us.”
“Don’t,” she snapped at them, and they froze. “We’re done here. I’ve gotten all that I needed.”
She said nothing more before rising from her chair calmly. She was so calm it was eerie. The moment we stepped out, Declan handed her another smoothie.
“From mother,” he said quickly. She glared at him, taking it from his hand before walking into the interrogation room.
When Fedel walked in, he placed a chair out for her. My mind went straight to the first time I ever laid eyes on her. She had changed so much since then and yet was alike in so many ways. We both had changed.
“So this is the Italian bitch who managed to piss off not only Vance, but also Amory and Saige,” Cross said, and I felt my hand twitch. I wanted to rip his motherfucking tongue out.
To make it worse, Mel did nothing. She didn’t even speak. She just sucked on that damn straw.
“What? Do you plan to strike me down with your eyes? Where is that big bad bitch who set fire to the bosses’ wedding? Or are you just an Irish bitch now? Did Callahan fuck all the fight out you?” he asked her, and my eyes were clouding over. I was going to rip his throat out of his neck.
“Speak, you bitch!” he yelled, fighting against the chains. “You think I will just talk? You think I’m afraid of you? I fucking ran all the prisoners for the Valero. I was the one who cut off your motherfucking doctor’s hands. He begged and begged for mercy. He didn’t talk until I started cutting. So call the motherfucker really in charge, bitch, so we can get this over with. I’m no rat.”
Before I knew it, I already had my gun in my hands. Had she not spoken, I would have gone in there my fucking self.
“Monte,” was all she said, and he came out of the fucking shadows of the room like he was a damn ninja with a sword in his hands.
“What the fuck?” Declan, Neal, and I all said at the same time.
Placing her cup on the ground, Mel stood up as calm as I had ever seen her.
“My father taught me a lot of things growing up,” she began as she circled him. “He had this weird thing for swords . . . iron swords, though. He told me I should get martial arts training and shipped me off to Japan, because they knew their swords. I thought I would come back a motherfucking ninja, but I got my ass kicked.”
“Is there a point to this trip down memory lane sweethea—”
Before he could finish, Mel’s sword came down, slicing through his wrist.
“Holy Shit,” Declan, Neal, and I said together once again as we stared at the hand on the ground.
They spoke out in shock while I was kind of turned on. My wife was fucking bold, beautiful, and deadly. She never failed to amaze me.
Cross screamed loudly, even though Fedel stuffed something in his mouth.
“The point is, I have a sword, motherfucker.” She grinned, only an inch from his face as he huffed and puffed, trying to fight the pain.
“You’re going to answer my questions or you lose limbs. That”—she pointed to his bloody hand—“was for your comments before. I’m so in charge I could be the fucking Energizer bunny.”
He muffled something that sound liked fuck you, and Mel’s grin widened.
“Do you know why we call people rats?” she asked him as Antonio walked in with a cage full of the beady-eyed creatures.
Mel, with no reservation, grabbed one of them.
Note to self—ask doctor about shots for her and the baby.
“Because they are self-preservation creatures. They have no honor, no loyalty. It’s all about doing what they can to save themselves. In fact”—she smirked throwing the rat into a small jar—“they will eat anything if it means their survival.”
“She wouldn’t,” Neal whispered.
“I’m done doubting Melody. It’s unhealthy to be proven wrong so many times,” Declan whispered back.
Cross struggled as Antonio fit the jar and the rat on the end of his decapitated wrist. But she wasn’t done. Despite her calm appearance, she was seething. Pulling out a lighter, she held it to the jar, and the rat ran toward his wrist to get away from the flame. Cross screamed against the sock.
“So many limbs, so many rats. You called me a bitch . . . twice, insulted not only my intelligence, but also my abilities, and then killed my doctor. How ticked do you think I am?” she asked him.
“First question and I’ll make it easy. What is the Valero’s next move?” He only screamed in pain.
“Take your time. I can wait for you to stop screaming,” she added, drinking her damn smoothie.