Chapter 8

Her boot-clad foot slammed into the stomach of the poor sap lying on the cement floor in front of her. "Then, he says I'm not going to make it a month!" It wasn't clear if she was recounting the visit with Liam to the victim on the receiving end of her brutal kicks or to the watchful man at her back.

She huffed as she felt suffocated by the black mask stretched over her face. The heat of her breath trapped behind the fabric created a sheen of sweat across her face. Layne couldn't imagine how Joey made a habit of wearing his for long periods of time. The rest of her donned all dark clothing from the slim-fitted pants with enough stretch to allow for movement and a black tee underneath a jacket.

Ever since she started making moves to lead the O'Reilly organization, Joey had insisted she take some precautions to protect her identity. It wasn't the big baddies that worried him, but also the saints of the world looking to help the so-called good guys. Honestly, she just figured Joey got turned on seeing her wear it.

As a result, she had been doing her best to remember her similarly styled skull mask that covered the lower half of her face from the bridge of her nose down over her chin. The white toothy smirk of the skull had crisscrossed ribbons in orange and emerald colors to honor her Irish descent.

Layne brushed a strand of her dark chestnut hair away from her face, attempting to incorporate it back into her ponytail as she exhaled an aggravated sigh.

The man in front of her was sniveling as he rolled back and forth with his arms wrapped around his stomach. "I swear, I don't know nothing about no deals between Russ and Italo," he cried out pathetically.

This worthless low-life was supposed to have information on Russell Spencer, the same jackass that had worked with one dead Andrew Correlli and thought the O'Reilly legacy should be defunct by now.

Word on the street was that Russ had been working with a mid-grade crony, Italo Giorgi, to assemble a meeting of the minds of various criminal units across the city. Layne hadn't been extended an invitation, and she doubted it was an oversight. She was pretty damn certain that Russ was still hung up on their last discussion where she promised he would make the top of her shitlist if he crossed her again. The difference now was that she was the one in charge of O'Reilly Enterprises and he had to answer to her, not to her jackass brother.

She had come here to personally extract some information from this piece of shit after one of her more reliable resources had suggested he was potentially useful. So far, she hadn't gotten anything from him except vague non-answers. "That's not what I fucking heard." Her temper was already at full flare before this idiot made the decision to lie to her.

Behind her, also bearing witness to Layne's attempt at relieving some stress while demanding answers, was Joey. His face was concealed by the very mask he had worn when he had first encountered Layne after Franzetti's goons had abducted her and brought her down to the docks.

He leaned back against the exposed steel beam of the third floor of the warehouse which was currently under construction. The bulk of his muscled arms crossed in front of his chest as he stayed out of her warpath. From head to toe, all six-foot-two of him was dressed in black. The collage of tattoos on his arms were covered by the long-sleeved black shirt, and his broad thighs were in a pair of cargo pants with a utility belt around the waist.

At the root of his reasoning for being there were mostly good intentions in ensuring her safety now that she was leading the charge at the top of the O'Reilly ranks. The less honorable side of him just wanted to get his dick hard by watching her sport that dark mask and bring a grown man down to his knees. It did something primal to him knowing that lesser men bowed before her and begged. Yet, he was the only man capable of getting her to drop to her knees before him. Call it ego, alpha male bullshit, or whatever else you'd like, but he got off on all of it.

He spoke up, "Look, man, this isn't looking good for you. I'd just tell her what she wants to know." Joey was hoping it would help the man have a moment to see the light to the path of his salvation.

Layne squatted down and pulled her Glock from the back of her pants, yanking on the slide to make it clear it was hot with a round in the chamber. The man stared at her with wide eyes that let you know he was one hiccup away from shitting his pants.

While trying to maintain an even tone she stared right back at him. "We've been at this for over an hour. You need to give me something to work with here. A name, a place, some chick that overheard something in the middle of a blowjob. Help me out."

The man perked up a little bit and nodded his head quickly. "Oh! I know someone who might know something."

She rolled her eyes hoping this wasn't going to be another trail to another dead end. "And…?" Layne urged him to continue as she gave a slight wave of her gun for him to continue speaking.

"Italo has a girl. She works at this fancy nudie bar. Um… uh… Katie's, n-no, Cassidy's Cave! That's it! He gets a private room with her every Thursday night. Does a lot of his meetings there, too." He nodded in excitement with his eyes full of such hope that he had given Layne something to go on.

Layne glanced back over her shoulder at Joey at the mention of Gage's strip club. It's not where either of them wanted this trail to lead to. Looking back at the quivering rat of a man on the ground, she pushed her hands against her knees as she stood back up. "Was that so hard? Thank you."

The man breathed out in relief. A false sense of security claimed him as he relaxed back against the floor.

Without warning, Layne fired a single shot that found a home directly in the man's temple. He had never seen it coming. At least he had died without fear, that was more than some people got.

She went through the motions of ensuring her firearm was safely tucked away again. Her right hand curled into a fist and stretched back out several times as the kickback from the shot drew an ache in protest. The freshly healed fracture still did not leave her without its occasional reminders.

Joey didn't even flinch at the sound of the gunshot echoing inside the room full of exposed beams, stacks of sheetrock, and scaffolding. He came up to her, easing her gaze away from the body on the floor. "Look at me, Layney."

Even with his fingers guiding her by her chin to look away at the price this man just paid so she could have her information, her eyes struggled to tear themselves off the morbid sight.

"Layne." This time the demanding depth of Joey's voice asserted itself more forcefully to draw her attention. Her eyes finally looked up at him. The hypnotizing darkness of his chocolate hues drew her back from what was going on inside of her head.

The violent edge her voice had possessed over the past hour had eased down into something softer and more delicate. "I couldn't risk him tipping anyone off."

He tugged down his mask now that it was just the two of them there. "I know. I would have done the same thing." Joey's fingertips traced along the trail of ribbon across the front of her mask until he found the edge and eased it away from her face.

She became more aware of her breathing as her body recognized the tender trace of his touch. "Joey, now isn't the time…" her voice apologetic, ready to wave off whatever advances he was about to make.

He leaned down and his hands grabbed her right underneath her ass and lifted. His cock was already straining to be free from the confines of his pants. Getting her back up against the beam he had been leaning on earlier, he had her legs naturally spread for him to press himself up against her center.

His fingers roughly dug into the backs of her thighs. "The hell it's not. I want nothing more right now than to fuck you after watching that."

Layne's hands grabbed onto the top of his wide shoulders, feeling the muscles rippling underneath as he supported her weight. She groaned as his hardened bulge pressed against her core.

After she wrapped her legs around his waist, linking her ankles together, his hands glided up her sides, rough palms sliding up underneath her shirt against the smoothness of her bare stomach.

With a lustful blaze in his look at her, his hands stopped just short of the bottom of her satin bra. "Go ahead and tell me." His husky tone bore the weight of a dare in it.

Her body not only felt like his hands were lighting her on fire, but incapacitating her. Layne's emerald eyes looked right back into the depths of his. She was hardly able to swallow down her own saliva that was pooling in her mouth at the thought of what was positioned at the apex of her thighs.

"Tell you what, Joey?" She asked, genuinely wondering what he wanted from her besides a good hard fuck.

He inched his mouth closer to hers, leaving just enough room for a single breath. "I want to hear you tell me you're going to stop being my good girl and taking my cock any time I want to give it to you." Joey's hips rolled up against her to make it unquestionably clear what he planned to give her whether it was the time for it or not.

If any words were spoken in the universe that could have caused her self-control to self-combust, he had just spoken them. Her heart rate was picking up speed and the dead body on the floor no longer registered in her awareness.

With a sharp inhale at the push of his body reminding her pussy how much it was throbbing, she shook her head while her teeth bit into her lower lip.

The tiny gesture of how she drew in her lip only increased his need for her. Closing the gap between their mouths, his lips connected with hers possessively. His teeth then sank into her bottom lip to draw it away from her own bite. Sucking on her lip to savor her taste, he lingered there for not nearly enough time for either of them.

"That wasn't an answer. Are you going to stop being my good girl, Layney?" His hands grasped onto her ribcage, his thumbs caressing over the delicate skin just below the swell of her breasts. It was all too easy to feel how quick and shallow her breaths were in reaction to him.

Layne caught herself shaking her head again and was quick to push the words out. "No, I will always be your good girl."

A sensual growl of approval escaped past Joey's lips when she confirmed what they both already knew. His mouth came to the side of her neck, lavishing it with electrifying kisses as one of his hands slid over the cup of her bra. His fingers pulled the cup away from her breast so he could wrap his hand around the mound of her flesh.

Layne's hand slid along his shoulder and up the back of his neck as she tilted her head back until it was pressed against the beam behind her. The soft pink lips of her mouth parted as she let out a quiet moan of approval.

Joey pushed himself roughly against her core, despite the clothing on each of their bodies. His hand pushed her body down so she could feel how hard his cock was for her.As his mouth consumed the taste of the skin of her throat, his fingers took the stiff nipple of her breast and twisted it between his fingers. His hips still slowly trying to dry-fuck her.

Her arousal was soaking through her panties as she felt the desire reaching peaks that had her other hand dropping down to frantically pull at the button of her pants. Before her fingers could dip inside to provide some self-provided satisfaction, Joey's hold set her breast free, dropped to grab her wrist, and pulled it up above her head.

He raised his head from her throat, his lust-drunk expression drawn across his face. "Not yet. I have first dibs on that wet cunt of yours, Layney."

Fuck. She had some idea of how much Joey got turned on while she worked, but this was a whole new level of his domineering side and she was here for it.

"Then fucking take it." Her voice was breathy as she leaned forward and crushed her lips against his hungrily. She was met with his tongue pushing past her lips to invade her mouth. His hand tightly held onto her side inside her shirt while his other dropped her wrist and grabbed the side of her face. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, keeping her head exactly where he wanted.

The ding of the elevator on the other end of the wide-open space echoed through the air. No one should have been in the building at this time of night. Yet, here they were loaded with weaponry and keeping company with a rapidly-cooling body on the floor.

Immediately, their faces split from one another. Layne dropped her legs down from his waist as Joey set her on her feet. His fingers made sure the first thing he did was pull Layne's mask up over her face as a measure to keep her safe, no matter the cost.

"This way." His hand latched onto hers tightly pulling her in the direction opposite of the elevator doors. By the time they got to the door leading to the stairwell, he had his skull-faced mask also back in place.

Running over to the door to the emergency exit with Joey, she slipped into the stairwell first with Joey close behind her. Her feet quickly carried her down the steps, his heavy set of boots sounding off quickly behind her.

When the fresh night air washed over them as they exited the building, she saw Joey's black sports bike parked right where he had left it in the alley just several feet from the door they just emerged from. He jogged ahead of her, snagged the sole helmet off the seat, and tossed it at Layne before mounting the bike. His hand retrieved a pair of protective riding glasses from his thigh pocket, sliding them over his eyes. A second later the purr of the engine filled the air.

Her hands caught the helmet, immediately pushing it down over her head. Her hand grabbed onto his hard bicep as she hopped on behind him. After her ass was in the seat, Layne's arms were tightly wrapped around his waist as she adhered herself to his back.

As Joey pulled out of the alley, Layne looked and her gut filled with both dread and relief as they sped by the front of the warehouse they had just fled from. Two NYPD patrol cars sat out front with their lights flashing. There was no way that they were there by coincidence. Someone had tipped them off.