Chapter 3

THREE

WYATT

It’s never going to get done if he keeps doing it that way. Clenching my jaw, I stand with my hands on my hips, just observing. Because if I jump in there, it’ll just cause a fight. Then he won’t do any work at all.

“You’re not helping,” Rogue says, not even turning to look at me.

I wipe the sweat from the back of my neck with my red bandana, shrugging. “I’m supervising.”

With a sigh, he puts the plastered trowel down and speaks to the busted wall. “No, you’re judging. Go grab lunch or some shit, man, and get the fuck out from behind my back.”

Nodding slightly, I turn to head back into the garage. “Fine. You want Brogie’s again?”

“Ham and salami, but don’t put any pickles on it. I know you do that to annoy me, Steele.” He’s right, but now I feel justified that it’s an extra pickle day.

The heat waves of summer roll in along with a slight kick of dust as some of the boys return from their drops. Purring engines cut into the air of silence that lives in this part of town. Shuffling over to my bike, I wait for the report from Garg, his lumbering hairy body pouring out of his tiny leather vest. A warm sigh leaves my chest, mixing with the hot air. I wish he’d wear a shirt. Oldest of our group, he’s been around since before the Day of the Raging Bull. Worked at the shop in his twenties, and he loves to tell everyone how much more he knows.

“No problems, Steele,” his cigarette-burned voice rasps out at me. “Sold most of the batch to South Side. West actually wanted some rifles. Some homeless dudes there had money for full autos, can you believe that?” Stuffing the cash in my palm, he reaches in his back pocket for the scribbled note containing the inventory sales.

“Yeah, poor on West Side is a lot different from here.” Scanning the horizon, the remnants of stucco huts and makeshift apartments seem to be in a bit better shape now that Freidenberg’s getting his money. But not like the technology district. Definitely not like the North. I don’t think they have such a thing as destitution there.

“You gonna talk about that at the meeting tonight?” He crosses his giant tattooed arms and stares me down like he’s the one who came up with the idea. I’ll let him think so.

“Seems like a good topic to discuss, yep.” Stuffing the money in the deposit bag, I tuck the note in my pocket, then saddle up. “Heading to Brogie’s. Want anything?”

“Nah, Hella made me a couple sandwiches to bring today.”

“She’s a good woman.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your princess—oh, sorry, Donovan’s princess—could make you a few if she could figure out where the kitchen was.” He ends with a deep chuckle, his exposed belly jiggling with every huff.

Arianna… I’ll deal with her and my crew’s incessant ribbing about it later.

The top of my head points to Rogue still squatting at the same fucking cinder block he was on when I walked over here. “Hey, make sure he stays on task and finishes it. We need this building back in shape.”

“Steele!” Murph’s red hair flames like the ones that took down the building a few months ago. Freckles dancing in the bright sunlight, he marches on a mission straight for me, nearly empty saddlebags slung over his shoulders. “We had a few leftovers for handguns.”

“Why?”

His skinny shoulder shrugs. “Hell, if I know. Maybe the market’s saturated. Got ten left. Mainly Rugers. Bullets all sold out, though.”

“I’ll take them.” Heaving the leather strap over my shoulder, I make room on my bike for the guns.

“So…big question we all wanna know is, when we gonna fuck up South Side, man? You been putting this off for a few days, and we’re all ready. We need to fucking destroy that pretty boy’s casino. We got the flamethrowers to do it, too.”

Behind him, Jaws paces and spits out tobacco on the ground. I guess they’ve been dying to speak to me about this. “We’ve been waiting, Steele. If you don’t give the say, we’ll do it without you.” Jaws’s nasally pitched voice cuts through my ears.

A little laugh escapes my lips. “No. You won’t. I tell you when and where and how. And we aren’t doing anything. Not yet anyway. Patience was never your pride, Murph”—with a head nod toward the wild animal making trails in the pavement behind him—“Jaws. We need to be smart about this. Calculated, and play the long game here. And fucking rebuild. And now, I gotta pick up lunch and sell the rest of these handguns you fucks couldn’t. Get back to work. I’ll be back in an hour.”

With grunts and grumbles, they disperse toward the shop, except for Garg, who kicks up some rocks toward Rogue. Texting my contact, I set up a meeting and slide onto the leather seat of my girl.

They’re right. That piece of shit pretty boy needs to be taught a lesson, likely one no one’s ever showed him. I just need a day and a visit with Arianna Freidenberg—sorry, Donovan—and then things will fall into place.

Once I hit the edge of North Side, I slow to take some back roads to the west end of Strauss’s property. An obscure cave is a great meeting spot, out of the way of spies and eyes in the sky. Rolling up to the end of the gravel trail, I jump off and gather the bag of handguns off the back, heading up through the trees and into the dark hole. My contact is already there, dressed up in his full black tuxedo, face clean shaven and loafers polished to a shine so brilliant, it almost lights up the dank crevice he stands in like a statue.

“Hello, Barrington,” he calls to me before I enter.

“Don’t call me that. Here’s the leftovers. Got the cash, too. About twenty grand this time. Did you all ask for rifles?”

His gray eyes harden to ice even in the heat. “No.”

Glancing at the ground, I ponder what may have happened and reach into my pocket for the inventory list. As I check it over, relief blankets my shoulders. “Oh. Never mind, it was just two. They said two homeless guys in the west.”

“If you think it’s all right, sir.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, but it should be fine. Tell John to watch the homeless population over there. Make sure they aren’t scheduled for a riot we don’t know about.”

Taking the cash and guns, I turn and bid him farewell.

A few minutes later, I’m parking in front of the fancy high rise on the north end and heading into the elevator inside after the security waves me by. On the fifth floor, the receptionist eyes me for a moment, but I simply say, “Here for the monthly drop-off.” She nods and lets me walk into the back hall.

I’m dirty, grimy from the road dust and sweat from manual labor today. Got a good stink going up nice for the folks in suits around here. But it doesn’t matter as long as I make the payoff for Freidenberg’s safety.

Nikolev stands behind a glass desk and peers out his corner office windows. With a slight turn of his neck, he monotonously asks, “How much?”

“Ten. Gave twenty to John. And the leftovers.” I walk up to the table and drop the rest of the cash on top, minus one thousand for my lunch. “We good?”

Finally, he turns around and eyes the paper on his desk. “Yes. Another month free from terror. Are you holding your meeting tonight?”

“Of course. Gotta keep those spirits up for the next senate session, right?” Turning, I head toward the door. “Until next month.”

Now that the payoffs are done, I motor as quickly as my Harley will take me back to East Side, stopping by Brogie’s for as many subs as I can fit in my empty bags. After dropping one off for Rogue, it’s time to say hello to the eastern senator. Chewing my sandwich, I slowly meander toward the manor, edging the countryside almost outside of city limits. This time, I enter by the front gates, the guards lowering their weapons once they recognize me.

I ride up to the fancy fountain and turn off the engine, pulling out a cigarette from the pack in my rolled-up shirt sleeve and lighting it before taking the note from my pocket and lighting that, too. Dropping it on the ground, I stamp it with my boot until it’s ash. After a few puffs, I put the butt in the same spot.

Their butler opens the door for me, his shaky old eyes staring over my head as he stands back from the door. “This way,” is all he says. I could easily find my way to the office, but he probably wants to make sure I don’t steal any precious heirlooms. Instead of taking the back hall through the family room, Fritz leads me through the main open area where Arianna sits, pretending to look at a magazine, all done up just for my visit, I’m sure. Looking like pure sin. Fucking vixen.

I shake my head when she spots me, urging her not to speak. Her brother could hear everything, despite the door being closed. “Ten minutes,” I tell her, and she smiles that fucking grin that lights up my world and makes my cock rock hard. I hate it. I hate her so fucking much. But I need her.

Casually, she stands and heads out the front door as I enter to see Max. He sits with his legs propped on the desk, a pile of papers in his hand. How a fighter like him got to be such a domesticated fat cat is a sad state.

“Hey, man,” I say, plopping into a seat on the overstuffed chair across from him. His mouth forms a grimace.

“How much?” You’d think with his sister being married to royalty now, he’d show a little more ease around me. But no. He’s still a douche.

Slapping the rest of the money on his mahogany desk, I clear my throat. “That’s the rest. About fifty Gs. Probably will get a million tomorrow from some families we shipped to in Appleton City. Big timers.”

He snatches the dough and flips through it briefly before tucking it into a drawer. Doesn’t want me to see where he stashes it. No problem. I bet it’s behind that gaudy portrait above the fireplace. I don’t care. Money doesn’t mean shit around here, except to motivate the wrong people to do the wrong things.

Slaves. All of them. And they have no clue.

Running a hand through his black locks, he raises an eyebrow in question. “And Strauss?”

“Paid for the month. He thinks ten percent. Well, that’s what I told Nikolev when I handed him ten.”

Max nods with a slight tug on the corners of his lips. “Very nice. But they still don’t know about the Appleton trades, right?”

I shake my head. “Nope. None the wiser. You done with me? I want to head out.”

Max’s brow furrows as he stares at his folded hands resting on his stomach. “Wyatt, I’m sorry about Arianna. But like I said⁠—”

“No need to explain. I understand. See you next week with that big drop.” Standing, I leave before he can start some awkward conversation. Neither of us like each other, and I’m absolutely fine keeping it that way. I don’t want to be his buddy. Not while I’m about to do something unholy to his sister.

Fritz waits for me outside the room when I head out. Escorting me to the foyer, he doesn’t say a word as he opens the front door, stoically standing like a statue, looking straight ahead. Sliding back on my bike, I steer toward the back barn. I don’t care if Fritz sees. Maybe he’ll learn something.

I cut the engine early and let her roll over the dusty road to the empty shed. Taking such a pristine girl among the hay bales always makes my dick twitch a little. Vix will get dirty just for me and I love it.

Wearing a tight leather miniskirt and a black tank top, she’s dressed again for me, or what she thinks is for me, when, really, I just like her. Her long chestnut hair dances in the slight breeze as I open the barn door, letting in streams of yellow light from the sun. Her huge brown eyes hold worry and temptation.

“Wyatt…” She runs over to me, slipping her tiny arms around my waist, practically pulling me inside, and I let her.

“Shh, vix. Let me shut the door first.” Once I do, I hold her hand and lead her to our workbench, and with a little hop, she helps me sit her on top so we’re eye to eye.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what more to say, Wyatt. I love you.”

Stroking back a strand of her hair, I tuck it behind her ear. “Listen, I got angry. I was hurt and I was brash. You did this for your brother and sister-in-law, which is a good thing, vix. You’re loyal. I-I guess I just thought you’d be more loyal to me.” My lip snags under my teeth for a moment as I look down, but before she can protest with an argument, I say, “But I do understand. And now you’re married to someone else…you’ll need to be loyal to him, too. We can’t be meeting like this, Arianna. It isn’t right.”

Her mouth purses and quivers as her eyes fill with tears. With a flush under her olive skin, she’s a vision. How can anyone resist her when she’s so vulnerable like this?

“I can’t lose you. I can’t. I just can’t.” Threading her fingers around my neck, she pulls me close, until I can smell her flowery perfume, mixed with a strong scent of alcohol again. She’s been drinking heavily since I cut her off the first time. And I don’t like it.

“You’re drunk,” I say, trying to peel back from her trap, but she firms her grip.

“No, no, I’m not. I had one glass of champagne before you got here. That’s it. Please, Wyatt. Please don’t leave. You can do whatever you want to me.”

My breaths quicken as my cock hardens hearing her trying so desperately to keep me, offering everything to me. Mixed with her scent, her hair tickling my arms as she leans forward with her soft lips that I want to taste again…it’s impossible to resist.

With a rapid pull, I snare her neck with one palm and force her to me in a fierce kiss, clutching onto her mouth like a lifeline. The first inhale of her breath into my lungs is like a hit of a drug after being clean for too long: potent and aromatic, with the seduction of promising more. Her taste is an instant reminder to my dick of good times as it surges with blood, roaring to get out of the cage it’s trapped in.

Shoving her back on the table, she leans on her elbows as I hurriedly unzip my jeans and pull out my hot cock to give it some air. I fist it with one hand and use the other to pull up her tiny skirt, revealing her bald pussy ripe and ready for my tongue. Leaning over, I shove my face between her legs and gnaw at her clit. Not biting as hard as last time, but close enough while I stroke in between my bites with my firm tongue. Inserting one finger, I hit her barrier of resistance and press against it gently while sucking on her sweet spot until her breathy pants become bellows of pleasure and I know she’s going over the edge.

“Come for me, vix. I’ll allow it this time.” And she does. Screaming, thighs shaking around my head, she rubs herself on my face, riding out her orgasm with my forefinger still holding at her tight entrance. “Now, get down here and show me how much you love me.”

She returns to shore from her waves of euphoria and slides off the bench to kneel in front of me, gazing up at me with those beautiful chocolate eyes. “I’m gonna come all over your fucking face and tits,” I tell her. “Pull them out. I wanna coat you. You’ve been so bad for me. I wanna claim every inch of skin I can before you marry him.”

Sitting back on her thighs, she slowly peels off her tank top until her generous breasts pop out with a bounce, her dark nipples large and erect. Reaching down, I pinch one hard as she squeals with her mouth wide open, so I shove my cock inside while her voice vibrates my head piercing. Electric shocks ride down the ladder and into my balls as she does. When her throat closes in a gag, it only makes me want to shoot down her throat, but I hold back so I can enjoy her for longer.

This is it.

This is the last time.

And I hate that it’s not. Why do I do this to myself? The pain after is going to hurt so much worse if I can’t cut her off.

Clutching the hair on the back of her head, I force her to look up at me as tears stream down her full cheeks. “I love you. Do you hear me? Why can’t I let you go? You hurt me. You only bring me misery. But I can’t leave you. So, suck me off, vix. Make me feel better for this. One. Moment.” With each word, I shove in deeper.

Using her hands, she works my balls and shaft as I thrust forcefully into her mouth. It isn’t long until I need a release. Until I must let go just because the torture of knowing it’s our last rendezvous and the torment that I’m doing the wrong thing becomes too much.

With a grunt of relief, I leave her with a gift of the agony of ambivalence.

And she swallows every drop.

She bends over on all fours, sobbing, her nails scratching at the old dirt floor. Fighting my own tears, I reach under her arms and pull her into my body until she clings to me. “I’ll come to your wedding, vix. I’ll do it. I’m not happy about it, and it’s going to rip me up inside, but I’ll do it. If only to pretend I’m up there with you. I love you.”

Pulling back, she blinks rapidly, flicking water off her long black lashes. “Y-you will?” She sniffs and runs a hand under her nose.

“Yeah. I will. Don’t ask me to do anything more, or I won’t be able to handle it. But I’ll sit there.” Pressing my lips against hers in a gentle tap, I brush back her hair and hold her.

For the last time…

Or not.