Page 57 of Vendetta

“Yeah. Heard he took over. The old man’s nowhere to be found. That’s just the word on the street; no one is actually saying anything. Bet ya he’s at the bottom of Mystic.”

“Huh,” I say. I had no idea, but someone in my family must have. Frank and Stevie would have known for sure. Why didn’t they say anything to me? I mean, this is not a small thing. “Didn’t he just turn eighteen? That’s a big step for a kid.” It’s a huge step, actually. And Angelo Fermi isn’t that smart either, so he probably won’t last too long.

“You really didn’t know?”

I shake my head, though I hate to admit I was being kept in the dark about it.

“And that’saftersomeone car-bombed Anthony Potenza,” he says.

I nod, because this I do know. Only his driver died, so it wasn’t a big deal. Word was he dealt with it, but I know these things are said just to keep the pretenses of being in control. I didn’t think much of it then, but if two bosses have been targeted, something is going on.

“I think we have a mob war on our hands,” he continues, the implication in his voice obvious. Immediately I think of my uncle and Stevie and our conversation the other day.

I put up my palms in surrender. “It wasn’t me,” I say, laughing nervously, and hoping he doesn’t see right through me. I had nothing to do with it, but if my family is behind it I’m as good as guilty, despite not knowing anything.

“Okay.” He leans his elbows on the table between us, his eyes calculating. He points at the money in front of him. “I don’t wantthat.” I go over the list of other things I can offer him. I’m about to open my mouth to ask what’s it going to cost, when he says, “No, man. I don’t want it. We’re friends.”

“I know you could use it.”

“Frankly, I’m insulted,” he says, crossing his arms against his chest. “Okay? So just tell me what I have to do.”

I smile at my friend. “I need a John and a Jane Doe, and that's it.”

15

LEIGHTON

I stiffen the moment he walks through the door, his eyes pinning me as soon as he locks it shut. He’s carrying a bag of food in his hands, and places it on the table along with his car keys as he makes his way over to where I’m sitting on the chair. He smells faintly of cigar, mixed with his spicy cologne. Even with all the mixed emotions I’m feeling right now, the anger and the pain, I still want him. I’ll always want him.

“I brought something you will definitely like this time,” he says in greeting, flashing me a grin. His mood seems lighter than before he left, which makes me even madder because there he is, grinning playfully while I'm hours away from being taken away.

He pulls out his phone, then quickly checks the screen and shuts it off, putting it back in his pocket. I've never seen him bring a phone in here before. A plan starts to form in my head. If only I could get my hands on that phone, everything would be so much easier. I could call someone to let them know where I am, to come and get me while I'm still here.

“I’ll eat later.” I stand up from the bed and take a step closer to him. I place both of my hands flat on his hard chest, and givehim a sultry look. “I have something else I want right now,” I say, looking pointedly down his body.

His green eyes narrow to slits, turning heavy-lidded. “Is that right?” he asks, already pulling his shirt off with both hands, sliding it over his head and revealing his sculpted abs and toned chest. Fuck, one glance at his body is all it takes.

My eyes linger on the indentation of his hips, that sexy V I love to run my tongue across. I lick my bottom lip, anticipation and lust taking over my senses. He undoes the button on his jeans, but then stops there. I lift my head up, giving him a curious look.

“I want to see you,” is all he says, his eyes never leaving mine. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I lift off my sweater, pulling it gently so it doesn’t tangle in my hair. I pull off my jeans slowly, sitting back on the bed to pull them off my ankles. I stand up before him in my bra and panties, letting him look his fill. I don’t feel an ounce of shyness—instead, his blatant perusal makes me feel powerful. His lustful gaze and the tightness of his jeans let me know he likes what he sees, and spurs me to reach back and undo my bra. I throw it onto the floor, and grin at Devon’s hungry gaze zooming in on my bare breasts.

“And the rest,” he says, his tone thick with desire. He looks down at my black lace panties, and makes a strained sound. Completely over this teasing game, and just desperately wanting his touch, I pull my panties down and close the space between us. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull myself up onto his body, throwing my legs around his narrow hips. With a hand tangled in my hair, he pulls my face to his, his lips taking mine in a hard, almost punishing kiss. His tongue delves inside my mouth, tasting me. His other hand grips my ass, squeezing tightly, the slight sting of pain turning me on even more. I run my fingers through this thick dark hair, pulling on the ends. I nibble on his full bottom lip before I pull away to trail my mouthalong his jaw. While I’m sucking on his neck, Devon moves both hands to my ass, holding me up. He walks to the bed and throws me down onto it, then hurriedly pulls off his jeans and boxers. My eyes devour the perfection that is Devon: his strong thighs and long, thick cock jutting out, hard as a rock, and ready to go.

“Open your legs,” he says, swallowing hard as I comply. Leaning down onto the bed he dips his head and licks my core, stopping to pay special attention to my clit.

“Devon,” I call out, wanting him inside me. Gripping my hips, he tastes me again, until he finally pulls away, pushes my thighs with his hands and slides into me with one long, quick thrust. I let out a strangled breath at the slight discomfort, but then pleasure takes over.

“Fuck, I'm sorry,” he grits out as he enters me, his eyes on where both of us are now joined. Slowly he pulls out, then just as slowly thrusts in again, driving me crazy. I sink my nails into his back, urging him to go faster, lifting my hips up to meet him thrust for thrust, until he leans over me, pulling my hands above my head and threading our fingers together. Pushing our joint hands into the mattress, he grinds his hips into mine over and over again. I close my eyes shut, getting lost in the feeling, the pleasure. I feel his hot, wet mouth on my nipple, teasing, biting, sucking, heightening my pleasure, making it almost unbearable to withstand.

“Leighton,” he rasps out, and I open my eyes, staring back into the ones of the man I love. The man I’m leaving. Knowing this is the last time I’ll ever be with Devon makes me want to break down, but I don’t. Instead, I hold his penetrating gaze, panting as he gives me what I want, makes love to me for the last time. I wrap my legs around his hips, a sound escaping my lips as I erupt with pleasure. I hear Devon curse as my thighs tremble, and he brings his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily as wave afterwave of ecstasy has me moaning into his mouth and gripping onto him for dear life.

“You’re perfect for me, you know that?” he whispers as he pulls his mouth from mine. And in this moment, in this bed, we are perfect for each other. In our own little world, where no one else exists, where nothing else matters, we are perfect for each other in each and every way possible. He thrusts again deeply, pulling me from my thoughts. I gasp as he pulls me up into a sitting position, and lifts me so I’m sitting on his thighs while he is in a kneeling position. He lifts his hips, bouncing me on his cock. His eyes are glued to my breasts as they bounce with the motion each time he pushes into me. His fingers dig into my hips, trying to pull me closer, trying to get himself deeper, probably leaving bruises. He bites on my nipple as he comes inside of me, thrusting furiously. He calls out my name, saying it reverently, like a caress. He pulls away and lifts his head up, his eyes unguarded.

“I love you. Whatever happens, I just want you to remember that,” he says, lifting his hand to push away the damp hair from my face. It sounds like a promise—or maybe an apology.

“I love you, too,” I tell him, putting my hand over his chest, feeling his heart slow to a steady, sure beat. Mourning what we had, as sweet and short as it was. I've never loved anyone as much as I love him.

“It's snowing,” Devon says, looking out the window. He's only in his boxers, his every muscle sharper, harder under the moonlight filtering in. He checks his phone again, probably forthe fifteenth time since he got out of bed. The screen illuminates his frown as he reads whatever is on it.

---