Page 14

The plane dipped,and I nearly dropped my white chocolate, raspberry, and jalape?o latte. “No!” I bit the inside of my cheek as Reed’s hands shot out, faster than I would’ve thought possible, and balanced my fancy travel mug.

“Why does Mr. Killough have an espresso machine on a plane?” Reed asked, pursing his lips and shaking his head. The late afternoon sun cut through the window across from where we sat on a wonderfully soft gray couch, and the rays caught in his green eyes, making my heart do a strange little dance.

Sometimes I forgot he was pretty.

My cheeks heated as he stared into my eyes. He ripped his hands away, and I sprawled against the furniture like I was born flying around on a ritzy private jet. I didn’t miss how my beast glanced warily at the window behind the couch. He would never say it, but his eyes were too wide, and he was practically a rock—the boy was clearly not a fan of flying.

But I supposed anything was better than a cage because he’d walked onto the plane without a complaint.

Sipping my latte, I hummed at the sweet, spicy flavor and studied the gold metal lamp anchored to the table on my left. It was way over the top, with a filigree shade. I had no idea how much the conversation piece had cost Sloan, but if I had to make a bet, it wasn’t cheap. That was about 180,000 dollars’ worth of gold doing nothing better than take up space on a plane. I knew the base was anchored in place because I’d already messed around with it.

Reed finally fixed his attention back on me, but he was scowling like I’d tried to kick him in the balls—which I hadn’t. Recently.

“What?” I stuck my tongue out at him.

He grunted and sat back, crossing his arms, which pulled the sleeves of his black suit nicely across his thick biceps. I’d had fun dressing him up for our excursion. Turned out those muscles looked fantastic packed into five-thousand-dollar duds. I reached out and smoothed down the black collar of his shirt. He was a monochrome dessert. My cantankerous beast slapped my hand away, and my fingers itched to give him a zippy zap in response, but first, I wanted to discover precisely what had him so irritated.

“Yes?” I said sweetly.

Something in my tone must’ve telegraphed my annoyance because he danced his fingers across his collar before stopping himself and clenching his hands in fists in his lap. “Why...?” He cleared his throat and scowled around the plane so hard I half expected to see laser beams shoot out of his eyeballs. “Why does he let you do this?”

“Sloan, you mean? And I presume you’re asking why he allows me the use of his private plane?” I sipped my latte, taking the time to let him get wound up even more and decide how I wanted to play this.

He huffed.

“Why do you think?” I settled more comfortably against the couch and crossed my legs.

His face flushed as he skated a long, heated look down to the tips of my toes and back up my body until he was glaring directly into my eyes once more.

I set my latte on the table beside the lamp, which would be disastrous if we hit turbulence, but oh well. He studied me as I stood, then casually swung around and straddled his lap. I nestled close and got comfy. His body heat was delicious and the tense muscles reminded me of all the times he’d felt this way when I was close to coming. His jaw was rock hard, and I ran my fingertips along it until I reached the point under his ears, and then I began to massage. “Are you jealous?”

His hands slammed to my hips and he dug his fingers in like he was scaling a mountain—there would be bruises. I smirked and my heart rate tripled.

“All that money and power.” I traced the tips of my fingers around his ears, and he stared over my shoulder. Bending forward, I reveled in the adrenaline that bathed my system. I brushed my lips against his earlobe. “Does it upset you to know a man like that, stronger than you, enjoys giving me gifts?”

“No,” he snapped, but he might as well have screamed yes. His fingers convulsed on me.

I fished my phone out of my pocket because I wasn’t stopping until I won this little back-and-forth, and I knew one surefire way to do it. He eyed me up as I opened my phone, his grip on me digging in. I winced at the pain, but I didn’t think he realized what he was doing. At first, I’d been slightly concerned I would hurt myself by touching him when I teased him with electricity, but it turned out the current didn’t travel between us. Something about amperages—I hadn’t bothered to pay much attention to the technical explanation once I’d read an answer online. He stared as I tapped the first setting and zapped him with the collar.

“Fucker.” He bared his teeth and rolled his hips, a sinuous staccato. I wasn’t disappointed. His cock plumped and poked me, and he dragged me closer.

Kissing him was a no-brainer. I slipped my phone into my pocket and pressed my mouth against his. He shoved his warm, wet tongue between my lips and rocked me on his lap. Need twisted in my gut, but I was in the mood to draw things out, so I stuck my hand in my pocket and shocked him again. He hissed and his muscles clenched. I hopped off his lap and shook a finger in his face.

“Do you think I’m a whore for a few nice things?”

He studied my face, eyes bright with fury. “No?”

“Well, you’re wrong,” I said with a smile. “Just not a plane ride. If I want something, I’ll get it.” I winked at him. “Take you for example.”

He rubbed his hands over his face and his cock jutted up against his suit pants. I was beginning to suspect my impetuous decision to abandon my seat on that dick was a bad move, but I’d made it. I paced away to look out a window before circling back to get my latte and sip it while I watched him.

“What the fuck?” Reed snapped, but I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the plane, my hard-on that was now abandoned—his own raging wood—or the shape of his life in general.

“In this case,” I said loudly, waving a hand around. “Sloan allows me to fly at the pinnacle of luxury because it confuses his enemies.” I flashed a smile at Reed as a crooked frown took over his expression. “For up to a day, no one will be sure if he’s in New York or not. It’s kind of dangerous for us, actually, because if someone wants to make a play on taking out Sloan while he’s away from his fortress, we’re going to be the ones who take the bullets and bombs for him.” I shrugged because it sounded exciting, and I’d always had a healthy estimation of my odds of escaping in that type of scenario.

With his bum knee, Reed’s were significantly lower.

“We could die for Mr. Killough?” he asked, getting to his feet. He glanced around like he was thinking about taking a header out of one of the windows, and I stared at him curiously to see what he would do while I balanced on my heels. He didn’t do anything quite as drastic as go searching for parachutes, but he did come over and grab me around the waist. He stared directly into my eyes and shook me. “Why are you happy about that?”

He gasped as I slapped my hand to his cock and gave it a tiny squeeze. “Because it would be a break in the monotony.”

Shaking his head, he rocked into my grip.

“Hold this,” I said, handing him my mug. He took my drink and looked at it with his eyebrows furrowed as I dropped to my knees on the ridiculously plush black carpet. Nuzzling my face against his crotch was nice, and then he slipped his fingers into the short hair on the back of my head, massaging. It was sweet—and very good behavior from my beast—but right now I wasn’t in the mood for soft and gentle. I wanted something rough and awful and out of control.

Dangerous.

Ever since Sloan’s visit I’d been feeling like a spring was coiled too tightly in my gut. I wanted my beast to be ready to ruin me when I finally let him have me, so I tortured him. I mouthed his cock over the fabric of his suit pants and rubbed my cheek there.

“Do it,” he growled. “Suck me.”

Of course, that was my cue to hop up and go back to flop on the couch. He moved to follow, and I pointed at the floor near my feet.

“Call me Master, and I’ll let you fuck me right here, right now. I’ll even make sure the cabin crew gets a good eyeful of your cock stuffed all the way into my ass.” I gave him a toothy grin.

He scowled and came over. With a nasty little look that I adored, he thrust my latte at me, and I had no choice except to take it. He went to his knee beside me, stretching out the leg that was still giving him trouble, and I spent the rest of the flight teasing my foot over his hard-on in between giving him tiny shocks that made him pant and moan.

Yes, I made sure he was hard and hungry when we disembarked to find the silver BMW I’d been promised would be waiting for me. The car was in the extended-stay lot and one of Sloan’s babies, so I knew it would be excellently maintained. It had probably been in some safe house garage. He had so many cars he legitimately didn’t know what to do with them all, so I’d really pleased him when I’d suggested stealing a special one for Grady Maher. The artwork I pilfered was all for social standing—this was something close to his heart.

When we reached the BMW, I handed the key to Reed, and he stared at me as I got into the passenger seat.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he came over to my open door.

“I need to think. I’ll put our destination into the navigation system.”

He frowned and closed my door for me, and once he had the engine rumbling, I did exactly that. I settled into my leather seat and turned over the mystery of Birch Shepherd, contemplating the best way to get what I needed.

The sun was setting as Reed carefully navigated out of the lot. I had to pay the fee for us to leave, which took me out of my lull. Afterward, I focused on pulling Oisín the Entertainer firmly to the front of my mind. He was sexy and coquettish and made people feel smart.

Smooth. Unruffled. Casually callous.

This was the person who interacted with Sloan—only sluttier. This was the person who succeeded at jobs that required social finesse. This was me when failure wasn’t an option—but a long night at a bar might be.

This certainly wasn’t the dipshit who hyperfocused on his Beastie for five days and almost got shot by Sloan Killough. Not that I thought the boss would do me in, but the man was known to have his days.

Never say never.

The sun was setting as Reed pulled the car into a small parking lot. Only the St. Loren Gentlemen’s Society administrative members were supposed to use this space, but the last time I’d been here, Birch Shepherd—the president of this “secret” society of men with more money than sense—had said I could use it. He wasn’t very bright, but he fucked like a champion, and he had a lot of useful connections. I turned to Reed as he shut off the engine and used both my hands to tilt his face toward me.

“Don’t talk in here. I mean it.”

“Why?” he asked, all at once looking tired and a touch too pale. “What are we doing?”

“Visiting some dangerous men.”

“As bad as Mr. Killough?” he asked, frowning.

Sitting back, I wriggled my shoulders. “Yes and no? I mean, I’m certain they could kill us and bury us somewhere, but they’re probably less likely to do it.”

He hung his head, then nodded. “Is this why you made me dress up?”

Waffling my hand in the air, I shrugged. “It’s a party and they tend to dress nice, but I also wanted to see it.”

He glanced up at me, eyes wide with surprise.

Laughing, I hopped out of the car into the humid night air. In the distance, thunder rumbled, and I groaned. It rained a lot here in St. Loren, Louisiana. More than it did at home. I walked to the end of the car and waited for Reed, then held out my hand. He dumped the key in my palm, which I pocketed, and then I held out my hand again.

He stared at my wriggling fingers, and my feelings were unreasonably hurt. The unpleasant sensation was worse than a hot knife to the gut. I dropped my hand and began to walk out of the parking lot, then along the sidewalk in the direction of the Society House—the clubhouse for St. Loren’s most moneyed and ridiculous citizenry.

In a few strides, Reed caught up with me and had his hands stuffed into his pockets. Well, I suppose that wasn’t a surprise. What had I been thinking?

“Are you?—”

“When we get in here, just follow my lead. I think on my feet, and if you fuck this up, I’ll shoot you,” I snapped, then walked faster. He could barely keep up and grunted, but I didn’t slow down.

There was a stream of nicely dressed men going into the front door of the Society House when we approached, which always made me laugh because it reminded me of the assassins that also called themselves the Society. Did they know this place existed? Some of them likely did.

One thing could be said for certain, the Gentlemen’s Society had a beautiful retreat away from the poor people they despised. White fancy columns that could’ve been smuggled from the Parthenon supported the black metal roof over the veranda at the front. The first level was constructed of solid stone. The second story looked like a gleaming white marble block stacked on the bottom of the building.

“Why are we here?” Reed asked, face tight with what I suspected was pain.

Sighing, I slowed down a bit and stopped on the sidewalk far enough back that no one going inside would hear us. “When you’re not on your home turf, unless you’re really, really sneaky, it helps to kiss the right asses, which you apparently never learned.” I rolled my eyes at him and recentered his black tie.

He rested his hand over mine as if to say he was sorry for not taking it earlier, but I didn’t give a shit. I ripped my hand away.

“I can’t believe Mr. Killough is letting you take me out like this,” he said, glancing at the Society House, which was lit up and displayed in all its Southern glory.

“He’s hoping I’ll have to shoot you.” I shrugged and stared at the historical building as well. “Or someone else will. Either way, he’s hoping you’ll be a short fascination for me.”

“Why does he care?” Reed grumped.

“Because you distract me from business.” Winking, I started toward the shiny black front door, and he followed hot on my heels. To the right of the door was a golden plaque. Gentlemen’s Society flowed across the metal in an old-fashioned scrawl. Below in block letters was Established 1722.

When we reached the door, it opened, and a greeter gestured me in with a short bow. How fucking excessive. At his side was another man holding a tray of glasses. I didn’t remember what Birch had told me was going on here when I’d called him, but I snagged a champagne flute and strode ahead, not caring if Reed followed me. I was stopped after only a few steps by a man in a suit with an obvious earpiece.

“Sir, is Mr. Shepherd expecting you and your friend?” He glanced between us, and I vaguely recalled this douchewad from the last time I’d been here. They usually had security at these parties.

“He is.”

The man gave me another once-over, then Reed stepped up. They had some weird eyeball match where they scowled at each other and nodded. I chuckled as we moved forward through the party because I thought maybe our less-than-friendly escort thought Reed was my bodyguard. We went up a wide staircase to the second floor and were led along a red hallway lined with black doors that reminded me of the set from a bad vampire movie, especially when combined with the gold trim. We stopped in front of the door at the very end that I remembered from my last visit. The man waved his hand, so I knocked.

There was a muffled yell that sounded a bit like “come in,” so with a shrug I pushed the door open, and Reed followed after me.

On the Gothic nightmare of a four-poster bed to our left, Birch had a willowy redhead’s legs hooked over his shoulders and he was nailing his boy toy into the mattress. A red silk blanket slipped off onto the floor, jolted by the vibrations. It was vicious, but not the fun kind. There were a few men lazily shooting the shit while sitting on his desk to our right, and as we came in, they nodded at me but didn’t stop their conversation.

Reed stiffened at my side and his hand brushed my fingers, but I tucked mine into my pocket. Fuck that, he’d had his chance.

Birch finished with a long groan that had so much sex in it the sound raised the hair on my arms and sent goose bumps chasing around my body. He grinned at me over his shoulder and didn’t pay any attention to his partner as he pulled out. Birch rolled to the side with enough energy for three people and scooped up a black silk robe from the edge of the bed. He shrugged the clothing on as he walked over to us, tying the belt. His wide grin and the pink in his cheeks made him even more handsome than usual. Unlike the fake tint to his plaything’s hair, Birch was a natural redhead, and he was somewhere in his midtwenties, if I had to guess, though I wasn’t sure. I’d never cared enough to find out.

Reed stared at the man on the bed, and at first a violent fury streaked through me, but then I realized why. The plaything didn’t look as if he was moving well, like maybe he’d been ridden too hard, but that wasn’t our problem. I stepped on Reed’s foot while I smiled at Birch and held out my hand.

“Oh, it’s good to see you again.” Birch gave me a lingering shake and his smile widened a touch more. “I didn’t know you were already in town. I see you have a drink, good.” He glared toward the bed, as if he wanted to move his friend along faster, and I needed to knock those ideas out of Birch’s head. I wasn’t interested right now. He wasn’t getting a round two with me.

“Can I discuss something with you in private?” I asked, giving him my sweetest smile. I didn’t pull it out of the mothballs often, but I knew what I looked like when I used it. The boy next door. Someone who could really use your help, golly gee, and if you played your cards right, you might get to fuck him.

Birch’s eyes brightened a little because he was pure predator, and I’d always played into that. “How are things in New York?” he asked while motioning at the men lingering on his desk to get the fuck lost. He pointed vaguely at the broken man on the bed, and they went over and hauled him to his feet. No one seemed to think there was anything wrong with taking him out of the room naked and unconscious.

Yikes.

Reed was staring again, but I didn’t risk kicking his ankle the way I wanted to. Hadn’t he ever seen awful men doing awful shit? Christ, it was no wonder he’d almost died. He was bad at the crime game.

“Things are always perfect when you’re Irish,” I said with a flirty wink.

Birch chuckled and gave me a real grin. “Oh, I bet.” There was a slightly breathy, excited quality to his voice that made me want to roll my eyes. “Have you been up to no good, Oisín?” The gleam in his gaze let me know he wanted scary-mobster story time, and I might have to indulge him. I had to perform this waltz carefully.

“Always,” I murmured. Okay, fine. I purred like a slut in heat.

“Who is this with you?” Birch glanced at Reed, the corner of his mouth twisted to the side.

“My beast. His name isn’t necessary.”

Birch gave me a smirk. “Is your beast a toy?”

“For me, yes,” I said. Keep things simple. Simple is mysterious. Blabbing is boring. I ran my hand along my tie and down, and I wasn’t disappointed when his avid gaze followed the movement.

Birch cocked his head to the side and seemed to give my answer its due consideration before he shrugged. “Oh, fine.” He snickered and leaned his ass against the edge of the desk. “How can I help the Killough Company today?” He touched my wrist, a soft caress of his fingertips.

I let him grope me and kept smiling. I’d worked hard to play up the idea that he was doing me favors in the past because that was the type of man Birch was—a swinging dick. He needed to feel as if he was in charge of each situation and loved it when people were in his debt.

“I can do pretty much anything in this city.” Birch rubbed his thumb over my pulse point before letting me go.

It took a lot of work to hold in a snort. He really couldn’t, but the things he could do were useful. If I felt like it, I was pretty sure I could have him crying in two-minutes flat, but I wasn’t about to ruin a good contact. Otherwise, I would have to play with the Italian mob, and they were always a pain in the ass.

Stepping forward, electricity crackled up my spine as I slid my hands to Birch’s shoulders and leaned my mouth close to his ear. I could feel Reed staring at me. I didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that I would find, and every molecule in my body sizzled under his attention.

“There are some bikers guarding a very expensive car I want. I need them to take a walk for about two hours tomorrow night. Could you arrange it for me?” I stepped back and put some space between us while giving Birch that sweet smile again.

Birch nearly pouted and fiddled with his robe belt. “I’ve heard about the car show. I can guess what you’re after. Unfortunately, they’re not my guys,” he said, staring all around the room, then directly into my eyes.

Shit.“An important man like you, I bet you know who to talk to. I’m sure I can make it worth everyone’s time.”

Birch hummed. “The others love money. What will you do to make it worth my while?” His Southern accent made his words syrupy slow, and even though I wasn’t in the mood to mess around with him, I couldn’t deny it was sexy as fuck.

Reed surprised me when he stepped in front of me. I’d been so focused on the game—getting what I needed—that I’d nearly forgotten he could actually choose to do something on his own.

“Damn it,” I whispered and smacked his shoulder. “Bad Beastie,” I said louder, making sure my tone was bored. But I’d been pushing him all afternoon. Now wasn’t when I needed him to snap. Later, when he could fuck me into the nearest flat surface, would be better.

I shoved him.

He didn’t budge.

Of course he fucking didn’t, because he was all muscle. I slapped my hand to the side of my face. “Beastie,” I barked, and he finally stepped aside, but he was still sort of in front of me. The expression on his face said he ate nails for breakfast and snapped bones for fun. It was better than a valentine. A thrill raced through me.

God, I really was fucked in the head.

Birch was locked in a mental pissing contest with Reed, but when I caught his eye, he smiled at me. He went around his desk and collapsed into the chair. “I’ll take an IOU. If I can call a man like you, with your special talents, when I have a need...then I would have a real trick up my sleeve.” He tipped his head back and studied Reed.

“Oh, that’s charming. You Southern gentlemen are such flirts.” I wrinkled my nose at him.

That startled a real laugh out of Birch. He stood and came around the desk, and I grabbed Reed’s elbow as he went to intercept him. Birch stuck his hand out, and I shook with him.

With a wink at Reed, he leaned in. “Does he kill for you?” There was almost a longing in his tone.

I shivered. Despite the bullshit, I did like Birch, and this was why. We were the same kind of crazy. “He does. He’s a beast that has it all.”

Reed watched me as if he was trying to figure me out, but he didn’t have a chance at that.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful,” Birch said, staring at Reed with a new interest that had me wanting to shove him back around his desk into his chair. “You will stay for the party?” Now that Birch was eye fucking Reed, my beast smirked, and I realized I’d been playing with a double-edged sword. I was ready to spit acid.

Reed wasn’t flirting with Birch, exactly, but he liked being ogled, that much was clear.

“How many has he killed?” Birch asked, then bit his thumb.

“Enough. As always, your hospitality is legendary. This is the address I need to be clear of motorcycles and the time I need it to happen.” I slipped a small business card out of my pocket. I’d written the info on the back and my phone number was on the front. I dropped the card on his desk, and he didn’t even glance at it.

Birch jerked in place as if he’d just emerged from a trance. “I’ll do my best, but no guarantees. Will I see you downstairs?” He blinked at me, obviously hopeful.

“Of course.” I smiled until we were out in the hallway with the door shut. I took two steps before Reed grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. I didn’t have time to do anything before his lips were violently devouring mine. He caught my wrists between his hands, and I decided not to get into a full-fledged fight right here and let him restrain me—however, I would take every fucking bit of this out on him later. I nipped his bottom lip until I tasted blood, but he endured it without trying to hurt me, so I let the fragile flesh slip free of my teeth.

“Have you let him fuck you?” Reed growled. His nostrils flared, scenting blood in the water. Would he go into a feeding frenzy?

“More than once.” I smirked. “And he’s good at it.”

“Are you lying?” he snarled.

“How would you know if I was?” I blew him a kiss.

He yanked my right wrist up so that my hand was in the air, then laced the fingers from his other hand with mine before hauling me toward the stairs.

Snorting, I tested his strength, tugging lightly.

He held on tighter.