The Enforcer (Men Who Thrill Book 1) (8 page)

“Did he send you?” the man asked, his voice remarkably calm.

I said nothing, but the man stood a little straighter. “Get this over with, but don’t hurt her.”

He looked over at his companion, who’d stopped streaming but whose face was still stricken, tears making tracks in the makeup that covered her face. Fleetingly, it occurred to me how much I appreciated the fact that April didn’t wear makeup. I gave myself a mental shake and turned back to the man who stood across from me.

“Hurry up! But make sure you tell him that even when I’m dead, just a memory, he’ll still know that she loved me. That she
chose
me.” He turned his gaze to his companion. “And tell him that death is a small price to pay for my time with her.”

The love that arced between the man and woman was palpable, and it affected me in a way I couldn’t explain.

“You shouldn’t fuck with another man’s woman. Especially if that man is a dirty cop,” I said, and then I turned on my heel and left.

I wouldn’t do Shaughnessy’s dirty work. There’d be a price to pay, a steep one, but I didn’t care. I’d deal with it later, after I did what I knew I should have before I’d let things get too far.

After I ended things with April.

And killed any good that might have been left in me.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

I steeled myself for what was to come, closed off the emotion that threatened to break through, determined to do what was right. But the instant I turned the corner and saw her through the restaurant window, moving from place to place in the way that had sucked me in that very first time, my resolve crumbled into dust. With her I was weak, powerless, and no matter how stupid or selfish, I would stay with her as long as I was able and as long as she would have me.

I approached slowly, my mind whirring with the weight of my realization. How could I keep my work, my life, from her? How could I protect her? And what would I do when my vague answers and unexplained disappearances became too much for her?

“Hey,” she whispered in a throaty voice when I entered, the easy greeting and casual smile that accompanied it making my heart thud wildly.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice.

We gazed at each other for a few long moments before I broke her gaze and moved to my regular seat.

“We don’t have any pie left tonight,” she said as she stood in front of the booth. “But I’m actually almost ready to go.”

“Take your time. I’m in no rush,” I said.

With a final little grin, she turned and went into the back, and I sat, trying to absorb every ounce of the calm, the normalcy that being in this place with this woman brought me. Far too soon, she returned, switching off the lights and walking across the gleaming floor.

I stood and walked with her to the door, which she locked. When she turned, I trailed my fingers down her arm and clasped her hand tightly, never breaking her gaze. She smiled softly and squeezed my hand, and which she held until we reached the house.

“Are you okay?” she asked as we walked into her bedroom.

“I’m better than okay, April,” I said. “I just—I mean I’ve never—”

Understanding lit her gaze.

“Me too,” she said. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about you, about us together that’s just…”

She trailed off and then stood on her tiptoes, scraping the rough stubble on my chin with her lips and then stretching farther to cover my lips with hers. The kiss left me rigid with the need to be with her, but even more, the passion in her touch showed me that she felt at least some of what I did, revealed that this thing between us wasn’t one-sided.

We moved toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in our wake, and when we reached her bed, I stepped into her, using my weight to nudge her back. But she stopped me and switched our positions, turning so my back was to the bed. And then she pushed me down.

I went, but when she came toward me, her beautiful, lush body moving with her steps, I understood her intention.

“You don’t have to, April,” I whispered.

“But I want to,” she replied.

And then she crawled up the bed, stopping when she reached my waist. She kneeled beside me, her face a combination of embarrassment and determination. I watched as she lifted one leg and straddled me, the thickness of her thighs and the outline of her cunt capturing my attention. My stare was broken as she reached for one of the condoms on her nightstand. She rested on her heels as she opened the packet and then jacked my cock with two firm strokes before she sheathed me, slowing rolling the latex over my steel-hard cock.

When she finished, she shifted until she hovered over my cock and then, gripping me with a firm hold, she lowered herself over me, crying out when as my hardness parted her flesh. I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to thrust up, and stayed still, pleasure ricocheting through me as she moved until her body was atop mine without a millimeter of space between us.

Her cunt pulsed around me, the tight pull of her walls against my cock sending a surge through my body. Then she rocked, and the surge moved through me again, this time centering on my balls. She gripped my chest and moved against me faster and faster, moaning out her pleasure. I didn’t thrust, but I grabbed her hips and squeezed, moved my hands up to cup her tits, roll her nipples between my fingers.

On an exhaled sigh, she thrust down hard and then screamed her release, and the tight grip of her walls around me triggered my own. I grabbed her hips again and held her as I came, pulling her as close as I could. She stared down at me with wonder, and as my heart calmed, I tossed her a smile.

“See what you’ve been missing out on?” I said, feeling playful.

“Looks like I need to make up for lost time. You up for—”

The
boom
of shattering wood followed instantly by the
thud
of a countless pairs of heavy boots cut off April’s words. In seconds, the hallway filled with a flood of light, and the yelling voices got louder and louder. I didn’t have time to react, so I pushed April from atop me and onto the bed, gesturing that she should stay behind me. She hadn’t spoken or screamed, but I could feel her fear in the faint tremor of her body and in the way she gripped my biceps so hard that it hurt.

In less than five seconds, the light that had flooded the hall filled the bedroom, and six—no seven—figures clad in full SWAT gear, machine guns trained on me, entered the small space. April let out a faint whimper, but still held me tight. I wanted to comfort her, but couldn’t risk moving. These guys would have no compunction about shooting me, and I doubted they cared that she’d be caught in the crossfire.

So I didn’t move, prayed that she wouldn’t either.

“Hands up!” the cop in front screamed.

I complied, and when April’s hand fell from my arm, I turned my eyes to her and noticed that she’d raised her hands as well, exposing her breasts and stomach. Rage, hot and strong, flared to life, chased an instant later by an equally intense rush of incompetence. I wanted to shield her, save her from this, but I could do nothing.

“We finally found him.”

The words emerged from behind the figures crowded in the doorway, and even without seeing the speaker, I knew who he was.

Shaughnessy.

The speaker’s identity was confirmed when he stepped from behind the others, though he was dressed in a suit and tie as always, looking every bit the slick, fat rat that he was. He stared at me with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

And then he turned his gaze to April, leering at her in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Up!” the man closest to me yelled.

Apparently, I’d begun to lower my hands, my need to get those eyes, especially Shaughnessy’s, off April temporarily overtaking common sense. I raised my hands again, but couldn’t stop myself from curving them into fists, my blunt nails digging into the flesh of my palms so deeply I knew I’d drawn blood.

“That’s right, big boy. Keep those hands up,” Shaughnessy said.

He stared me down, eyes glittering with delight. Then he turned back to April, and after looking her up and down again, his gaze lingering on her breasts so long that I almost launched myself off the bed and to certain death, he spoke.

“You can stand, ma’am.”

She didn’t move, and I could feel her eyes on me; I also understood her unspoken question.

“It’s okay, April,” I said, my voice calm, “go ahead.”

“What about you?” she asked.

My heart twisted at the fear that animated her tone, and at the fact that even with men pointing machine guns at her, she was concerned for me.

“He’s under arrest. Five counts of assault and one count of first-degree murder,” Shaughnessy interjected. “Now stand and move away from the suspect.”

He spoke in a threatening tone, but still she didn’t move, from the shock of what he’d said or from something else, I didn’t know.

“It’s okay, April,” I said again, praying she’d listen, that she wouldn’t give Shaughnessy a reason.

The shifting of the bed told me that she’d stood, and, from the corner of my eye I watched her as she bent to grope on the floor for clothes. She threw my shirt over her head quickly, and pulled it down as far as she could.

“Come this way, ma’am,” Shaughnessy said as he reached out for April’s arm, touching her gently, protectively, like he was ushering her away from danger.

I stayed stone still and ground my teeth together so hard I thought I might crack them, my rage intensifying when Shaughnessy ran his hand up April’s arm and rested it between her shoulders, not bothering to spare me a glance.

But April did, her eyes wide with terror and shock and underneath, something else, anger, disappointment. That expression took the fight out of me, and I didn’t resist when one of the cops snapped handcuffs on my wrists.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

The cops dumped me in an empty holding cell, though I was still cuffed and shirtless. I was so angry I thought I might burst with it. At Shaughnessy for this stunt, one for which I would make him pay. But most of all, with myself. I’d played with that fire, and it was April who’d gotten burned. Her business had been invaded, and now, because of me, so had her home. She’d barely seen a gun before, and after just weeks in my acquaintance, she’d had multiple trained on her, had again felt the very real fear of death.

I glimpsed her through the scratched glass that separated the holding cells from the main floor of the station. Her eyes were wide but flat, as was the rest of her face, no hint of the openness and warmth that I’d come to crave shining through. It was April in body, but not in spirit. And it was all my fault.

When Shaughnessy put a hand on her shoulder and then pulled her into his arms, I screamed my rage. April looked toward the sound, her flat eyes now alive with fear. But he just smirked and then stared at her with faux concern before he turned her and walked out of my view. Yet still I screamed, continued to do so even when several officers rushed into the cell and tried to beat me into submission. Continued even after, with the help of eight others, they restrained me so that I couldn’t move, couldn’t even turn my head.

“Told you somebody needed to teach you manners,” Shaughnessy said when entered the cell. “Maybe that little piece of yours needs some too.”

Only then did I stop screaming.

Chapter Eleven

I was there for a week, the end that I’d always known awaited me having somehow managed to catch me by surprise. I didn’t lament my fate; I’d earned it, and I deserved it. But the loss of her would haunt me until I died, probably after.

“Time to go.”

I didn’t look up at, too preoccupied with my thoughts of April and certain that the guard wasn’t addressing me anyway. Which was weird because I was the only one in the cell. At that realization, I glanced over. The guard appeared calm, his face entirely unreadable.

“Looks like you made bail,” he said, sneering.

I didn’t have bail. I’d been arraigned and remanded two days ago and faced several months before I went to trial and then a lifetime after I’d been convicted. So what was this guy talking about? I narrowed my eyes.

“I ain’t got all day,” he said.

I stood and approached the bars, not sure what was happening, but willing to play along, at least for the moment. I turned and stuck my hands through the bars, the snap and tug of the plastic cuffs cutting off my circulation. With enough effort, I could break them, but now wasn’t the time.

“Step back,” the guard said.

I complied and he unlocked the cell, roughly grabbed my forearm, and led me down the catwalk to processing. Unease filled me but there was no indication that anything was out of the ordinary. The standard hustle and bustle of city jail went on unabated, like this was a standard release. But that wasn’t the case. Shaughnessy would never let me out of here, would see to it that no one else did, either. Something else had to be at play. And as I went through processing, I figured out what it was. I clamped down the swell that was growing in my chest.

Thirty minutes later, I was out on the street, and thirty minutes after that I’d gotten my hands on a change of clothes, cash, and a weapon.

And then I went to her.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

She wasn’t home when I arrived, but I didn’t leave. Couldn’t. I knew it was insanity, that as soon as Shaughnessy realized I was out, this would be the first or second place he looked, but I had to see her again, would risk anything to do so.

So I waited, shrouded in the descending darkness of the fading day. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait too long. About an hour after I arrived, I heard the jangling of her keys and the turn of the lock signaling that she’d come home. I stood in her small living room, right where she could see me, not wanting to scare her, or scare her any more than she already had been.

Her gaze landed on me immediately, and after an almost imperceptible flinch, she closed and locked the door and stepped out of her shoes, once again lining them against the wall tidily. That small little gesture, something that felt familiar, comfortable, stirred a riot of emotion inside me.