Devil May Care: Boxed Set (49 page)

Just like Dagger,
I thought grimly.

This all happened in seconds and I was already taking aim at the guy who was kneeling down in front of the door, working at the lock. He looked surprised, but his expression was tinged in terror, too. He had a little more time than Marcus did and it meant he knew what was coming.

I heard an, “Oh shit!” from down the hall—the banging on the other door had stopped—and I had to assume that the third guy had noticed what the fuck was going on.

I pulled the trigger a second time and the second guy in front of me went down. He didn’t have time to gurgle or feel any pain. I’d caught him right between the eyes and he was already gone as he hit the floor. I might have felt a twinge of guilt if I didn’t know each and every one of these assholes would have killed—or probably worse—Olivia at the first opportunity. It gave me the fuel to continue on.

Turning to face the third man in the hall—I was relieved to see that I was right; it was a hallway and there were only three men—I discovered the reason as to why he hadn’t shot at me yet. He was fumbling with the gun which had been shoved down his pants in the front. It looked like it was caught on something, his belt buckle maybe. He saw me as I took aim and had time to say, “Oh, shit!” once more before I pulled the trigger again.

I didn’t bother to check to see if any of the men were still alive when I started running down the hall. The gunshots weren’t silent and someone would have heard them, meaning I had to move quickly if I wanted to reach the stairs before this hallway got a lot more traffic than usual.

Hurrying down the hall, I hoped to run into a set of stairs that would take me up instead of down. I lucked out when I turned a corner and found a staircase that went both up and down. I started to climb to the fourth floor as I heard shouting coming up from downstairs.

I pushed myself to hurry before they saw me. Just as I cleared the last step, I caught a glimpse of someone on the landing below me.

Okay, now I’m on the fourth floor. Where the fuck do I go from here?

I wasn’t sure. This place was definitely a mansion, because it was huge. There was a long hallway to the left and what looked like some sort of sitting room that opened up from the stair landing. I caught a whiff of heavy smoke, cigarettes or cigars. It was coming from the sitting room, I thought, so I decided that was my best bet.

Moving quickly but cautiously, I had my gun out in front of me, leading with it as I rounded the corner into the room. The room was large with a fake-looking and a painting of some asshole over the mantle. There were several huge, overstuffed sitting chairs that were colored somewhere between brown and red and were probably leather and way too fucking expensive. Sitting in one of these chairs was Jacob.

“Well. I thought you’d get here sooner, to be honest.” Jacob’s voice was just as slimy as I remembered it, or maybe I was just putting slimy with his voice because I knew what a smarmy bastard he was.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I growled menacingly, keeping my gun aimed directly at him.

“You wanna talk? Or are you just planning on shooting me?”

I lifted my shoulder in a half shrug, not willing to move too much for fear that it might screw up my shot. “What is there to talk about? You’re a traitorous asshole. Pretty much got it all cleared up.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed, his already thin lips pursing together as they pulled into a thing, scraggly frown. It wasn’t his most attractive look. For a moment, I thought he looked nervous. Like he was sweating or breathing heavily or
something
. But then he seemed to regain his composure and forced a catlike smile on his face, which did nothing for his already pale, thin features.

“You sure? I wouldn’t shoot me if I were you.”

“I promise, if you were me, you’d shoot you, too,” I answered confidently.

His smile didn’t waver. “Are you so sure? After all, if you shoot me, you’ll shoot the one man who can keep you out of prison.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed, even as I felt a trickle of fear slick down my spine. I wasn’t a fan of the cops in the slightest and it automatically left me with an awful, uneasy feeling in my stomach to think that there was even the slightest, most remote possibility that I might get hauled in by them again. “Prison? I think you’ve got your wires crossed. Last time I checked, it was
Axel
who was in prison—and I’m pretty sure we both know why he’s there.”

His smile widened. “Axel may be in prison, but there’s a deal on the table. If he rolls on a few of the guys, the ‘responsible parties,’ according to the police who are so far up their own asses that they wouldn’t know the head honcho if he was…well, if he was sitting in their own cell about to fork over his own guys to save his ass. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Axel wouldn’t do that.” And that was the truth. We were a bunch of thieves, drug dealers, and arms dealers, but there was a code of honor amongst us. That code started with the cops; don’t snitch to them, no matter what. It didn’t matter if you hated someone, you didn’t tell the police. There was only one instance that I could think of where that might have been acceptable—it involved children, which was always deplorable—but even then it was better to kill the people responsible, because who wanted those kinds of assholes alive anyway?

Jacob’s eyebrow rose in skepticism. “You sure you know him as well as you think?”

I considered his words. I tried to picture Axel going to the police and telling them that I had done it, all of it, and he was just some lackey. Would they believe him? Probably. Cops weren’t exactly well known for getting the hierarchy right when it came to things like that. But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t see Axel turning me in just to save his own skin.

Besides, he knew I wasn’t the one who’d gotten him thrown in there in the first place.

“Doesn’t matter,” I told Jacob smoothly, ignoring the small niggling feeling that there might be a part of Axel willing to turn the rat, the
real
rat who had gotten him busted, in to the police.

“No? And why’s that, Rome?” Jacob asked smugly.

It was my turn to grin. “Because Axel already knows that you’re Lucifer and he knows that
Lucifer
set him up.”

Finally, Jacob’s expression dropped. Gone was the smug smile, the superiority. At the mention of Lucifer, he finally realized he’d lost. I held all the cards and there were still enough people loyal to Axel that Jacob wasn’t going to make any moves or plot a
coup-de-ta
anytime soon. No one would buy it, especially once Axel told them who had really set him up. Jacob’s life was about to get
much
harder.

My smile turned grim, menacing, as I took aim with my gun. “I’m going to tell you this once, you piece of shit,” I said calmly. “You come after Olivia again, if you fucking touch her again
,
this’ll get worse.” And before he could ask what would get worse, I shot him in the thigh, just above the knee.

He screeched in pain, his leg jerking suddenly right before his body spasmed and he slipped out of the chair onto the floor. He gripped at his leg with both hands, writhing on the floor, blood flowing freely. He seemed torn between pressing his hand over the wound to stop the bleeding, and leaving it the fuck alone because touching it was going to make it hurt so much worse.

I didn’t stick around to see which he chose. I just left, straight down the stairs, avoiding the crowd which had gathered in the hallway, slipping down the stairs before they realized that I had just shot their boss.

By the time I was out of the house, the place was probably going nuts and there was a good chance that the cops had been called by some nosy neighbors. I didn’t care. I was already halfway gone and would be farther before they showed up.

Olivia

I couldn’t get there fast enough. It seemed like every ounce of traffic in California had been working to prevent me from returning back to that Malibu neighborhood—I worried that I wouldn’t even recognize it, that they’d all look the same and that I’d be hopelessly and utterly lost. Of course, that wasn’t the case. Really, traffic wasn’t bad, especially considering how it had been the first few hours when we’d arrived. But that didn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to be concerned with things like “relatively speaking” and “in all fairness” and “if you really think about it, you’re lucky that it’s this good.” All I could think was,
I’m not going to get there in time.

So when I finally pulled into the Malibu neighborhood, the one that I was pretty sure was the right one, I felt only tight anxiety surging through me instead of relief. I sped through the residential roads, speeding way too fast and not caring one little bit. I searched each house I passed, trying to find the one I had run from so desperately not very long ago, but it was hard. They all really did look the same and I hadn’t been looking back
,
only forward, determined to get the hell away from that horrible place.

Now, I wished I’d been scared, or maybe brave, enough to look back, even once, to make sure that I knew where I was going now.

Hindsight might be twenty-twenty, but foresight never seemed to be.

I was searching the streets and houses, trying to find any identifying or familiar markings to let me know that I’d finally found the right place, when I spotted him. A large man in dark jeans and a t-shirt, blood splattered across his clothes and his skin, gun gripped in one hand. His blond hair was rumpled and wild, his eyes were bright with anger and intensity and victory. And he was running away from a large mansion that seemed to have jumped into a sudden flurry of activity not far behind him. No one was chasing after him exactly, but they were doing
something
.

My foot slammed down onto the brakes harshly, crushing them to the floorboard, and causing the car to come to a screeching halt along the side of the road.

Rome didn’t pause, didn’t stop running, but I saw his eyebrows shoot up in surprise just before they pulled down into a deep frown. He didn’t look happy to see me and it hurt my heart just a little bit.

Leaning over, I popped the car door open for him.

When he got close enough that he was standing right outside of the door, leaning down so that he could see me clearly, I felt my heart ache. He looked terrible. Worn and rumpled, stressed and tired, and covered in blood. “Oh my god, are you okay? What happened? Get in! Oh my god, are you hurt? Were you shot? Jesus, they shot you, didn’t they? Do we need to go to the hospital? Fuck!
Get in already!
”

I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t help it. He looked so much worse close up. Still large and strong, sexy despite the grime and coating of blood, but I couldn’t ignore the potential of him being seriously injured just because I still thought he was fucking sexy.

He slid into the car quietly, then slammed the door after him. He was still frowning, staring at me with a mixture of anger and…something else. Something I wasn’t sure of.

“It’s not mine,” he told me finally, grimly.

Normally, a statement like that would have sent me running in the other direction as fast as humanly possible, but things were different now. I knew exactly what kind of men had been in that house and I knew that they were awful, terrible. I knew that whatever they got, they deserved it. So I didn’t press it further. Instead I just said, “Let’s get out of here.”

I put the car in gear and we tore out of there, fast enough to squeal the tires and leave black marks of burnt rubber on the road.

We hadn’t been driving for more than a minute before Rome turned to me. His bright eyes, alight with passion and danger and adrenaline, focused on me, so intense that I thought they might set me on fire. My whole body responded to his nearness, to him being in the seat next to me. My heart hammered in my chest, my breathing shallow and quick. So much had happened in just twenty-four hours, not to mention the week leading up to it, that I wasn’t sure how I had managed to not have a heart attack yet, but as things were going, I thought that time might be coming anyway.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked the question as I rounded the corner, going up the street that I was pretty sure would take us to the highway and far, far away from Malibu and that goddamned stupid mansion.

Startled by the heat and anger in his voice, I looked over at him—he was still frowning—before jerking my gaze back to the road ahead of me. I didn’t answer him until we pulled out into traffic.

“I had to,” I finally answered him, my voice stronger and more certain than I was expecting.

“You had to,” he repeated. “Are you out of your mind? What was possibly so damn important that you had to—”

But he didn’t finish his question. I interrupted quickly, decisively. “You.”

“Me?”

Now his frown had slipped. He looked confused, bewildered even, as though he couldn’t figure out what I was trying to tell him. Like it was some kind of a riddle that had him stumped.

I smiled a little at it, then blushed. Even so, I managed to get the words out, firm and confident, things I had been trying and maybe failing to be lately. “I love you, Rome. I came back because I love you and I’ll never leave you again.”

He stared at me for a long time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for there, because he sat back into his seat, letting his head lull against the rest, and sighed deeply.

He was asleep in moments, and I didn’t mind it. I let him sleep as I drove us out of the area until it got dark. Then I pulled into a small motel, nothing fancy, but decent. And the most important part of it was that it was far, far away from Malibu.

We were in the middle of the desert by this point. There wasn’t much in the small town we’d stopped in, but I didn’t care. I’d had enough of the traffic and the danger and the city. This little town in that moment was like heaven to me.

I was reluctant to wake Rome up; he’d slept the entire way and seemed like he needed it. But since we were here, I thought he might appreciate a bed more anyway, so I shook him by the shoulders until we woke.

As soon as his eyes opened, the touch became electric. Our gazes locked and the intensity in his, so soon after waking, made my breath catch.

“We…we’re here. I mean, at a motel. For the night. Since it’s dark.” I was rambling and must have sounded idiotic, but I couldn’t seem to think clearly as I looked deeply into his eyes, getting lost in them.

Finally, he seemed to wake up more and let a smile slide across his face. “Time to get up, then.”

I nodded and we both got out of the car. I took the time to stretch, grateful to be standing instead of sitting, especially since I’d been driving the whole way. It felt good to stretch out my stiff limbs and I indulged in it, which was why I didn’t see Rome coming.

He came up behind me and before I even knew what was happening, he’d scooped me up into his arms, bridal style, and carried me towards our room. I let out a little squeal, girlish and feathery light.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a breathless laugh. It felt good to be in his arms. It felt safe.

He grinned at me and there was no denying the heat in that look. “I wanted to do this right.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “What right?”

“Our wedding night.”

My expression softened, turning to one of love and affection. I didn’t know what to say.

Before I could think of something, he told me softly, sweetly, “I love you, Olivia. I think I have for a while now.”

And then he unlocked the door to our room, kicking it closed behind us with his foot. It was a basic room, TV table, chair, bathroom, and most importantly in that moment, bed. King-size bed.

He laid me on it softly and as my back slid onto the mattress, he kissed me with all the desire that I could handle, and maybe more. I sighed into it, drinking him in, needy and wanting. His hands found the hem of my shirt before I could clear my head enough to think about how many clothes we were wearing and how many we clearly needed to take off before we could press our naked bodies together.

But his hand reminded me of that and I let out a whimper-moan into his open mouth. I felt him smile as he continued to kiss me, just barely laughing at my response to him. Challenging his laugh, I jerked my hips upwards into him, sliding them along his crotch. I felt him tense and groan into my mouth, making me pretty damn pleased with myself.

Things heated up quickly from there. My shirt was all but ripped off, causing us to break the kiss—which was a good idea anyway, since we were both starving for air. I took the opportunity to jerk his shirt up, too, my hands roaming over the hard, cut muscles of his abdomen and chest. They tensed beneath my touch, firm and hot and oh so delicious. I leaned up to place an open mouthed kiss against his chest, right above his heart. He groaned above me, encouraging me. My hands moved down then, trailing over those rock hard muscles to find the low slung waistband of his jeans. I undid the button of them quickly as I continued to pepper his chest with hot, wanting kisses.

I was about to go for his zipper when his hands grabbed me by the wrists, stilling my movements.

Surprised, I looked up at him. I saw desire flash in his eyes, his gaze devouring me whole. “Not yet,” he growled at me, the depth of his voice causing a shiver to travel the length of my body only to finally pool in liquid heat between my thighs.

Oh, I wanted him.

“Please,” I begged him, unashamed and needy.

He smirked at my plea, slowly and carefully raising my wrists and pushing me back into the mattress at the same time. I let him, unconcerned, even as he pinned my wrists above my head, moving his hands so that he had both of my wrists gripped in just one of his large hands.

“I promised you a proper wedding night, didn’t I?” he whispered to me darkly, and I shivered again, my hips jerking up of their own accord.

He leaned forward to place hot, wet, open mouthed kisses at my neck and my shoulders, along my collarbones and in the hollow of my neck. His lips were plush and hot, the softest part of his cut body. Though it was torture, I loved every second of his slow, teasing pace. I felt his kisses as they traveled between my breasts and along the edge of my bra, his tongue slipping over the top of my breasts to wet the hot flesh there.

I moaned and squirmed and begged the entire time, enjoying his caresses even as they drove me towards madness.

“Please!” I called for him.

He ignored me as his mouth traveled lower and lower, dipping past my breasts and down along the line of my abdomen. His tongue slipped around my belly button before sliding down lower over my womb. When it found the edge of my jeans—which I
desperately
wanted off—I felt his teeth graze the skin, causing me to let out a heavy gasp of pleasure.

“Oh!”

By this point, he finally had to release my wrists if only to get access to the rest of my body. I wouldn’t have known how truly frustrated he was if it weren’t for the too eager movements of his deft fingers as they undid the remainder of my clothing. I had to sit up so he could slip my bra off, my breasts slipping out and my nipples hardening at the sudden air caressing them. He growled and nipped at them briefly. He was too preoccupied with getting me completely naked to linger on them.

He jerked my pants off, taking my panties with them, and finally I was gloriously naked. I’d sat up to help him, but now that I was bare before him, he pushed me back forcefully so that I fell onto the mattress. His hands came to me and spread my thighs open, exposing my heated core to his hungry gaze.

He licked me once, kissed my lips like he might kiss my mouth, and I was lost. I bucked into him, urging him forward, begging silently—and maybe vocally, too—for more. I wanted more.