Page 26 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)
MAX
Gunshot straight to the middle of his forehead.
Umm… no. That’s too easy.
Maybe cutting off his fingers for touching her. His tongue for kissing her. While I’m at it, his dick is going, too.
Then I’ll shove his badge in his mouth before ending his miserable life.
“Stop it.” Alison cut off my thoughts as I mentally replayed how I’d dispose of that motherfucker.
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”
“The way that frown is covering your whole face suggests otherwise. You are not hurting Jackson,” She warned.
I glanced towards her, checking to see if she was actually being serious. There was no hint of a smile, and going by the way she held her arms crossed over her chest, Alison wasn’t even trying to be funny.
“What are you, psychic?”
“No,” She chuckled, “You’re just transparent. Promise me that you’re going to be civil.”
“He just fucking booty called you while my cock was still twitching from coming inside of you, and I’m expected to bite my tongue and take it like a good boy? Ah, you’ve clearly got me wrong, Angelo. I’ve already mentally mapped out where each part of his fucking body is going to be buried.”
“He didn’t booty call me. He wants to talk. We’ve been friends since I was thirteen.”
“No. Correction. He was your brother’s friend, and now he’s the fucking enemy, and you’re the only one who doesn’t see that. Besides, it sure as fuck was a booty call. You’re just not well versed in macho lingo to know any better.”
“Whatever.” She said, leaning back into her seat, her arms tightening their hold on each other like she meant business, “You’re not hurting him, and that’s final.”
“He might trip and fall on his face.” I shrugged, “Down the stairs. All five flights.”
“Max.” Her sweet voice gained an authoritative undertone that made my cock twitch. “It’s not a booty call, and I’m not in danger. I know you don’t trust him, but you trust me, right? If he reached out, it must be important.”
“Whatever. But I’m not leaving you alone with that dipshit.” Non-fucking-negotiable.
And not because I didn’t trust Alison or thought they could rekindle. That fucker had nothing going for him from the start apart from being available. I didn’t trust his intentions to be clean and honest, and Alison had too big of a heart to see through his bullshit.
I’d be there, reading between every line, making sure he didn’t sweet talk her into anything stupid. Alison was smart as fuck, but her kindness and compassion were sometimes too borderline sacrificial lamb when it came to those she loved.
And even it if fucking killed me to admit it, I knew she cared for the fucker.
Soon enough, we were turning onto Alison’s street, our little bubble about to burst with our return to reality. Stolen moments and constant over-the-shoulder glances were what we had coming. I could live with that, so long as I didn’t have to give Alison up just yet.
The night would always be ours, though. For once, darkness suited my interest, and I was hellbent on taking advantage of it.
I needed more time with her.
Alison was silent as we waited for the elevator, and even during the ride up. She was expectant and tense, probably trying to figure out why that backstabbing waste of space had called so insistently.
Ten calls in thirty minutes. Talk about needy!
When the doors dinged open, my eyes landed right on that moron, leaning against the wall, right next to Alison’s apartment door like he belonged there. Arms crossed, a smirk on his fucking face that screamed entitlement.
Jesus, I wanted to punch him in the mouth. Make him lose each one of those perfectly white teeth and resort to fake veneers for the rest of his pitiful life.
“Remind me to shoot your doorman for letting the trash in,” I whispered from behind Alison as she strutted into the hallway.
The warning glare she threw at me was loud and waived the need for subtitles – you will not.
“You’re early,” She said nonchalantly, making her way down the hall.
“I was eager to see you. What can I say?” He drawled, eyes sweeping over her body with an ease that had bile rising in my throat.
Fucking asshole.
To worsen the weak hold I had on my restraint, the fucker leaned in to kiss her. My eyes were intently set on them, burning a hole right through his skull while my fists clenched at my side. Before his lips landed on hers, Alison managed to swerve, and he kissed her on the cheek instead.
If I was murderous before, I was now hellbent on giving him a taste of my knuckles.
Alison unlocked her door, and Jackson didn’t even care to step back and give her space. He stood immobile, right where he was when we got here, too close to her for my liking.
Did he just fucking inhale her scent?
I’m gonna kill that damn Yak.
Stepping inside, Jackson followed suit, leaving me to shut the door behind us. It was either subconscious or just my emotions rearing their unsteady head through the tips of my fingers, but it slammed so hard that the lamp and table in the entrance rattled with its sheer force.
Alison jumped, turning around to glare at me.
“Oops?” I said, the passive aggressiveness in my tone clear in my craving for violence.
“You need to teach your strays better manners, Princess.” God, even his voice was annoying.
I stepped forward, a bitter smile curling my lips. How petty was it that I was craving to smash his nose into his skull? Probably teenage schoolboy with raging hormones all over the place level, but a man needs what a man needs. And right now, what I needed was to see Jackson Naoki bleed.
Insecurity? Not one bit.
More like a long-time yearning finally coming to fruition. I disliked his fucking guts since the first time I laid eyes on him, bleeding onto Matt’s couch at Dea Tacita.
“Funny coming from a lap dog who fetches bones for the DEA.”
Jackson’s eyes glinted at my comment while his jaw ticked with a pulse. Apparently, he was just as eager for a swing at me as I was to knock his fucking lights out.
“Better a lapdog than a dirty mutt sniffing around his boss’s sister.”
I took one step closer, just enough for the heat between us to spark. “You’re mistaken if you think you ever belonged in her life.”
“No, Stronzo .” Asshole , he barked in broken Italian, “I belonged inside her. You’re still out here on the porch whining.”
My fist twitched. Exactly when it had balled into an iron grip was beyond me. I was holding back for Alison’s sake only. Barely.
“Keep talking, and you’ll be on the ground trying to remember which teeth belong where.”
“Is that jealousy?” Jackson laughed. “Or regret? Because from what I remember, you were left outside while I waited right here on this couch for her. I’m sure you remember how the rest of our night went.”
“I remember. All nine seconds of it before you left, and she had to finish the job because you don’t know how.”
“Are you two fucking kidding me right now?” Alison yelled from the other side of the room while Jackson and I stood toe to toe, chests flaring in a staredown to see which one of us breathed wrong and started what we both knew was coming.
“You can kiss Matt’s ass all you want, but he’ll never allow his little princess to be with a mediocre, low-ranking mafioso.
Cop or not, my blood pumps royalty just as hers does.
” He was referring to his Yakuza boss father, which, coming from a cop who never gave a damn about the fucker, rang strangely in my ears.
“You got lucky Matt was distracted trying to hunt your father down. Besides, Alison is a queen who makes her own decisions. Low ranking or not, you merely touched her skin. I branded her fucking soul. Don’t think for a second that we are the same.”
And right as I was, I left my guard down purposely and took that right jab like a fucking punching bag, worn and used to the beating.
The crack of bone-on-cheek echoed off the living room’s walls, and I stumbled back a step, my lip splitting under the force. I brushed my finger over them, the tips coming out smudged in blood.
My eyes locked on his smug expression as he lowered his fist. Wrong fucking move, asshole.
Alison shouted something behind us, but it was lost to the roar of blood pumping in my ears. She couldn’t be mad at me for defending myself, so the next punch was mine.
My revenge was swift and merciless. I stepped in and drove my fist into the bridge of his nose. The sound of cartilage giving way was sickeningly satisfying.
Blood exploded down his face like a faucet, painting his dress shirt in deep red while droplets splattered onto the floor.
Jackson grunted, staggering back, but he didn’t fall. Not yet. We circled, bodies tensed, fists raised, like animals waiting to tear into each other again.
Jackson came at me with a wild hook. I ducked, pivoted, and slammed my shoulder into his gut, driving him back into the wall.
He retaliated with a knee to my ribs, and pain flared across my side, but I didn’t back down.
I grabbed his collar, but before I could push him back into the damn wall, the sound of the safety of a gun clicking off, followed by a bullet popping into the chamber, cut through the air.
Funny how neither of us heard Alison’s warnings, but that distinct sound was enough to freeze us to our spot.
As I looked towards the side, Alison stood there, Glock in hand, with a grip as experienced as mine. Her hand was steady, her chin leveled, and her shoulders squared. Those green eyes of hers were like sharp jewels, daring us to make one wrong move.
“ENOUGH!”
Her voice slashed through the air like a sharp knife.
Alison stood there like a queen judging gladiators, her fury radiating off of her in waves. This was not the time to get hard, and yet my stupid dick twitched with that image.
Power suited her like a second skin.
“You want to whip your dicks out and measure them, do it elsewhere. You fight here again, and I’ll personally cut your balls off and gift-wrap them to your bosses. Got it?”