Page 32 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)

My heart sinks at the concern in his voice.

He’s hurt worse than I thought. “Nobody is going to pull the plug on you,” I promise him as I run my fingers through the back of his hair, holding his face to my neck, even as his lips lower and place a kiss on my chest where the top button of my dress shirt is undone.

His tongue darts out, sweeping into the dip of my cleavage.

“I was talking about the plug in your ass, sweetheart. I want to be the one who takes it out tonight when we get home.”

I tug on his hair hard enough to pull his face from my bosom. “You are awful. I’m sincerely worried about you, and you’re thinking about fucking my ass.”

“Thinking about fucking your virgin ass might be all that keeps me from going toward the light.”

“You jackass,” I huff with a laugh before I press his face back to my chest where he immediately resumes his teasing licks and kisses hidden behind the curtain of my hair. Sweet kisses that are so soft and gentle my heart flutters wildly in my chest.

What started out as nothing more than an explosive chemistry with the mobster has turned into more, not just for me but for Tristan as well.

He cares about me, so much so that he risked his life not once but twice to keep me safe.

The first occasion was just minutes after he touched me for the very first time.

Tristan’s lips move up the side of my neck, making me gasp as another feeling begins to overwhelm me. Why can’t I seem to get enough of him? Even after marathon sex for days, I still want him and need more of him. Not just the sex but him . All of him. The good and the bad.

I think the bad is what turns me on the most. He can be so violent and dangerous, but he’s always loyal to his family, willing to do literally anything for them. He’s ruthless out of love, which is why I think I’ve started to fall for him. To know he would do nothing less for me…

“The other two are DOA, so we’re done here,” the paramedic tells us, startling me and causing Tristan’s face to pop up. “Do you need a stretcher?”

“No, I don’t need a fucking stretcher. And you haven’t examined her head.”

“Looks superficial. We’ll have a doc check it in the ER because if you need stitches, trust me, you don’t want me to do them.”

A few minutes later and Tristan is up and walking to the ambulance, refusing any assistance.

I wave to Bryan and then climb into the back with Tristan.

Once he’s settled on the bench and fastened in a safety belt with a blanket around him, I take a seat next to him, yelping when the cold bench meets the plug I’d already forgotten was inside me.

“Headache getting worse in the lights? You could have a concussion,” Tristan says as he looks me over.

“It isn’t my head that’s making me uncomfortable,” I tell him softly. “It’s my ass.”

“Just wait until later.” He flashes me a wink and a smirk.

“You are not going to do anything but rest later,” I assure him.

“Fuck. I was supposed to pick up a bunch of late pizzos for Creed this afternoon. I got sidetracked with the office sex.”

“Glad it was good enough to distract you from ‘work’.”

“I changed my mind,” he says as he slips his uninjured arm around my waist to pull me closer.

“About what?”

“Letting Bryan watch us. Now that I know he’s more turned on by me than you, his jerking off doesn’t bother me as much.”

“What?” I whisper. “He’s —”

“Also into guys? Yep. I almost feel bad for the closeted bastard. While plenty of people can go both ways and love men and women equally, I’m thinking Bryan is just denying the truth to himself because he’s afraid of coming out on the force.”

I nod my agreement as I consider his earlier decisions. “Wait, I don’t want him watching us and thinking about you.”

“No? Jealous?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I don’t want to share you with the whores or him.”

“Fine. It was just pity, you know that, right? I’m not —”

I press a kiss to his lips, shutting him up as our tongues meet with the promise of more than hot office sex or a dirtier romp while I’m tied up in his bed.

Only a throat clearing pulls us apart.

“If you have any personal belongings or valuables, you should give them to her since you’ll have to be stripped down for x-rays or whatever,” the responder who worked on Tristan says as the ambulance comes to a stop at the hospital.

“You’ll need to wait for him in the lobby until he’s assessed and assigned to a room. ”

Tristan pulls his phone from his pocket and offers it to me. “If Creed calls, will you tell him I’ll collect the payments tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.”

With one last kiss on my cheek, he gets up and hops out of the back of the ambulance.

By the time I follow, he’s already been taken through to the back which requires an ID badge.

I take a seat and decide to call Creed without waiting for him to reach out. After all, I know Tristan’s worthless passcode.

“Where are you?” the growly voice snaps. “I’ve been waiting at the office for you to come by with the cash.”

“Tristan is in the ER right now, you arrogant asshole.”

“Who is this?”

“Kirsten.”

“The DA? What the hell are you doing with Tristan’s phone?”

Wait. Tristan hasn’t told his boss, his cousin, that we’re seeing each other, that I’ve been staying with him since the night they removed the dead man from my apartment?

“I…they’re evaluating Tristan’s gunshot wounds, but he said not to worry, he’ll collect your money tomorrow.”

“He got shot?”

“Yes.”

“Let me guess, and it’s your fault?”

“How is it my fault that someone wants me dead?”

“It’s your fault that you’ve got his dick so twisted up he would risk his life for yours.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. It’s more than just sex.”

“For you maybe,” he snaps.

And just like that, one comment from the mob boss has me doubting everything.

Is it just sex for Tristan? No. No man would willingly risk his life twice just for a few fucks. Especially not that man.

“Are you jealous?” I ask the mobster. “Worried he won’t keep bending over backwards for you if he’s wrapped around my finger? He does whatever the hell you ask, and all you do is take advantage of his loyalty.”

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, woman.”

“So do you. I don’t know why Tristan would risk his life for you.”

“Well, he’s not literally taking bullets for me, is he?”

“He almost did. I could’ve shot and killed him!” When my exclamation causes heads to turn my way in the quiet waiting room, I get up and walk out the automatic doors to continue our conversation outside, ignoring the slight dizziness.

“What are you talking about?” Creed asks with a heavy sigh.

“When I woke up with Tristan in my apartment, naked in my bed with me, I held him at gunpoint,” I explain. “He did that for you and Andre. He risked his life to get the charges dropped.”

“But you didn’t shoot him.”

“I could have!” I don’t mention that he’d removed all the bullets before he felt confident enough to be a cocky jackass.

“You didn’t, so it’s a moot point.”

“Are you going to come to the hospital and see your injured cousin or not?”

“I’m already on the way, you snobby bitch.”

I scoff at his insult.

“What? It’s true,” he says when I don’t respond with words. “You’re so stuck up and worried about what people will think about you fucking Tristan that he’s been hiding the two of you from our family.”

“He didn’t tell you I was still staying with him?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Did you know about all the prostitutes living with him?” I can’t help but ask, even if it’s way off topic.

“The what?” Creed mutters. “Did you say he’s living with prostitutes, as in more than one?”

“Yes, he was, six of them.”

“Why did he have six whores? I know he’s a horny bastard, but does he have some sort of sex addiction?”

“He let them live with him for free.”

“In exchange for unlimited fucks maybe…”

“He hadn’t slept with any of them in weeks.”

“Even I wouldn’t have resisted six whores in my bed before I met Zara, and I was practically a monk.”

“I don’t care what you would have done. I believe Tristan. He was helping them out, letting them live there so they wouldn’t have to, you know, screw men for money.”

“How generous of him. And economical, based on all the money he would save paying for them by the hour.”

Dammit. I don’t want to think about him with anyone but me, especially women he paid to have sex with because yuck, and how pitiful that he didn’t have willing women.

I guess with his kinks for tying up his partners and spanking them, it’d be easier to negotiate those things in advance with a professional.

“Would you shut up about the past? I’m guessing yours isn’t stellar.”

“Like I said, I was practically a monk before Zara because women were afraid of me.”

“And women aren’t afraid of Tristan?”

“I guess you have a point there. He has been known to get so rough women cry and shit afterward.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound surprised? He doesn’t exactly put off any warm and cuddly vibes.”

“He’s warm and cuddly with me.”

“Really?” His voice is heavy with disbelief. “You fell for that?”

“I didn’t fall for anything. He’s been nothing but genuine with me.”

“Right. Well, you can stop bitching at me on the phone now. I’m here and need to call Dre.”

I spin around and see the passenger door of a dark SUV open at the entrance before the mob boss steps out. The sight of him still makes me uneasy, not because I think he’s intimidating, but because he represents everything I fight against, and I hate that I had to drop the charges against him.

“You can go now,” he says as he approaches with his phone to his ear. “I was talking to the DA. Yes, she’s here at the hospital too,” he tells who I assume is his cousin on the call. “Give me Tristan’s phone.”

“No. And I’m not leaving until he’s released,” I inform him.

“Great,” he grumbles sarcastically. “Dre, bring food and coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”

“So sorry to inconvenience you with Tristan’s bullet wounds.”

“I meant it’s going to be long because of you,” he says as he slips his phone into his coat pocket. “I love my cousin, and I hate that he was hurt. How bad is it?”

“Two shots. One to the upper back and one to the side of his arm.”

Creed nods and looks toward the hospital entrance. “So, nothing vital was hit.”

“No. But he lost a lot of blood.”

“I’m sure he did. Someone put two holes in his body. Who was it?”

“It was two men in a car driving by the courthouse. Bryan, Detective Daughtry, was there with us, and he fired back, killing them both.”

“How convenient.”

“That’s what Tristan said too,” I whisper.

“Right, because now there’s nobody left to question. Three for three on dead ends.”

“Three for three?”

“The guy in the alley who shot at you, right? Then, the detective in your apartment. Now this hit. That makes three. Without someone left alive to question, we’re not going to get to the bottom of who wants you dead.”

“I thought Bowen Bertelli was the number one culprit.”

“He is, but now that you’ve managed to piss off the entire police department with our dismissals, thanks to the claim of evidence tampering, you may have put another bullseye on you.”

“Well, why haven’t you done anything to Bowen yet?”

“I thought you were going to talk to his sister.”

“Right. I am. I will. I’ve just been…busy.”

“My cousin’s been that distracting for you? Wow. Good for him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I huff.

“You’re obviously an uptight bitch. Whatever he’s been doing to unravel you is nothing short of miraculous.”

“I care about him,” I say even as my cheeks flush.

“You’re so dick-whipped it’s pathetic. Maybe it didn’t take much effort on his part if you were just that desperate for a good fuck, and he finally gave it to you.”

I haul my arm back and slap the shit out of the mob boss. Based on the darkness that fills his eyes, I quickly reach up and rub the back of my bloody head. “Pretty sure I have a concussion,” I lie to explain my unexpected reaction.

I’m not sure why I hit him. It’s just, I want to believe that it’s more than physical between me and Tristan, and I hate that Creed fucking Ferraro wants to take that away from me, making me doubt everything.