Chapter 9

CHAPTER

NINE

Killian

Kicking my heels outside a glitzy restaurant was not how I wanted to be wasting the evening, an evening during which I could have been back in the cabin, between Noah's legs, listening to his sawing gasps, my cock buried deep and him begging for more. Goddamn, I was getting hard again just thinking about it. I adjusted my pants while leaning against the boss's car parked in the adjacent lot. Now was not the time to be thinking of Noah's naked ass—except, I couldn't get him out of my head.

Luckily, Val's driver, a man I knew well, had gone back to checking his phone long ago, when our conversation had dried up.

I checked my watch for the hundredth time.

The boss's late lunch had turned into an early dinner. I couldn't disturb him for a quick question. If I did, he'd get suspicious, so I had to sit on my hands and wait, with a head full of Noah and his taste still on my lips, his whispers of how he'd take every inch I gave him in my head.

"Why don't you hit the road, and I'll drive the boss back?" I told the driver. "There's no point in both of us waiting around. Take my car."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm good." I tossed him my car keys as he got out from behind the wheel. We often switched rides; it kept anyone watching from pinning a face to a plate and made for fewer ambushes, since few knew what car they would be traveling in on any given day.

The driver sauntered off, and I dropped behind the wheel of the sleek black Mercedes. Nice wheels. Comfortable. Luxurious. But more importantly, the blacked-out windows made it private.

An hour later, Val emerged from the restaurant. I greeted him with a terse nod. Dressed like a blade, in a grey tailored suit, he resembled a successful businessman. "Killian, it's about time you returned. The business doesn't stop because you do."

I opened the rear door, nodded at his bodyguard to back off—since Val was in my safe hands—and dropped back behind the wheel. Minutes later, we cruised into traffic.

"Everything was dealt with?" Val asked with as much emotion as someone asking if they'd fed their pet fish that morning.

"No trace."

"Good." He stared out of the window and the light from the streetlights slid over his wrinkled face, making each winkle look like a cut.

"We have problems with the Southies muscling into the docks operation," he said. "I want you on it. I sent Simon, but he's wasting time. It needs action, not delay. Delay looks weak."

"Of course." He'd brought up the Southies, which gave me an in, if I worded it right. But subtlety wasn't my forte. Noah could do this dance, with his smart mouth and quick one-liners. I was more of an action man. "Who told you Noah slept with the Southies girl?" I asked. Did it sound natural? Probably not, since Val's daggerlike glare shot straight to my reflection in the mirror.

"What?" he snapped.

"Someone informed you of Noah's indiscretion. Who was it?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I… I need to know how far this cleanup has to go. Is there anyone else I need to silence?"

He grunted a derogatory sound, hating mention of the gears that kept his bloody machine working. He'd rather be above it all, not getting his hands dirty. "Ask Simon."

"Simon told you?"

"Forget Noah. It's done. I need you on the docks, and I need it to happen now."

I dropped the boss off at his brownstone and crossed town to Simon's apartment building. I parked on the curb outside, hurried up to his floor, and knocked. "Hey, man, it's Killian, open up." Simon and I often crossed paths. He'd been around a lot longer than me but kept his head down, did as he was told, and didn't make waves.

No sound came from behind the door. I knocked again before calling his phone. "Probably should have called first." With my head full of Noah, my game was off.

The phone rang, but Simon didn't answer.

There were a hundred places he could be. But as I was supposed to take on the Southie docks fuckup, I had to find him sooner rather than later anyway. Whether he'd tell me anything about Noah sleeping around with Southies was another unknown. But I was here, so…

I tried the door handle and gave the door a shove. The frame creaked. The locks were new, however the doorframe had probably been in since the apartment was built back in the nineties. I rolled my shoulders, gripped the handle again, and putting all my weight behind the next shove, popped the door off the frame enough for the lock to slip out of its niche.

"Si?" I called, entering the apartment. After checking each room, it was clear Simon wasn't home. But his laptop was, humming to itself on the coffee table.

He'd have it passcode protected. I flipped the screen up, and the desktop blinked to life, showing a dozen folders open. No passcode. Idiot.

I scanned the documents: docks info, shipping manifests. He'd been working on it before he'd left.

It was all info I'd need but nothing that was going to help me save Noah, until I minimized a window and a Google map popped up, its pin in the middle of nameless greenery. Nowhere near any docks or water.

I leaned in closer and zoomed out on the map, trying to figure out the area. The zoom jerked, whizzing out too far, showing Boston, and the pin was far up the I95 in New Hampshire.

Over the cabin.

"Fuck!"

I knew where Simon was.