Page 13 of Boy of Ruin
“Good try today, Sid.” I can feel the absence of his mouth over mine and relief floods through me, but it’s short lived. Instead of my mouth, he trails his soft, full lips over the side of my face. “But remember you’ll never be able to fight me.” His mouth finds my throat, and instead of shoving him away, instead of telling him to stop…I just arch my neck back, giving him better access.
He laughs against my skin at my submission. His teeth scrape above the hollow of my throat. “Not because you’re not strong enough.” He closes his lips in a kiss, sucking me into his mouth.
I bite back a moan, gripping him so tightly I know it’s got to hurt. His muscles flex beneath my fingers but he doesn’t tell me to let go.
“You’re the strongest girl I’ve ever met,” he says softly, his words vibrating against my throat.
Butterflies jump in my stomach, desire coursing through my veins.
“But you don’t want me to stop, do you, baby?” He closes his mouth again over my skin. “I’ll wait, though. I’ll wait until you give in. And when you do?” He picks his head up so he’s staring down at me. “When you do, I’ll make you the happiest fucking girl in the world.” His smile is wicked, and I know he isn’t done. He brushes my hair from my face, tucking a strand that came loose from my ponytail behind my ear. “But equality is earned, baby. And until you get there, you’re going to let me keep you safe.” He runs his tongue up my throat and I close my eyes, feeling the little goosebumps down my body with the warmth of him against my hot skin. “Let me take care of you, because that’s what brothers do.”
I count out the money on the table in the expansive back room of the club, where we decided to have Nicolas’s party, as a safety precaution. In case Sid isn’t losing her mind.
Five grand, fifty bills, the going rate for a hit on a nobody dealer. If he’d kept his fucking mouth shut about walking in on a body drop that he should’ve never seen, he’d make it to his daughter’s second birthday next week, and I’d save myself five thousand dollars.
He didn’t, and his kid is probably better off. He’s not exactly winning father of the year, despite his “anonymous” tip to the cops.
Glancing up, I see my sister perched on the leather couch edged against the opposite wall, her legs crossed, arms too, her expression is one of polite interest as Roman Torres takes a seat next to her, holding out his hand to introduce himself.
I’ve still got one hand on the stack of bills, one on my thigh, and that one clenches into a fist as I see Sid and Roman shake hands, an easy smile gracing Roman’s face, dimple flashing in one cheek. Their contact lingers, and when Sid finally pulls away, crossing her arms again, Roman leans in close, lacing his fingers together over one knee.
“Second thoughts?” Nicolas asks, sitting opposite me, but I don’t answer him as I stare at Roman, my driver. Not personal. For business. Getaways, transportation to and from kill sites, occasionally filling in when a runner has to bow out.
He’s here now waiting to deliver the cash to my newest mercenary. Found him on the dark web, where all the good ones are, and I’ve got a job for him if this goes well. He’s already delivered valuable information to me on the 6. Almost too good to be true, and sometimes I wonder if it’s someone on the inside. Then again, that’s exactly what I need.
But if Roman keeps looking at my sister like that, I’ll have to find a new fucking driver.
I see Nicolas twist around on the couch, looking over his shoulder and watching as Sid laughs at whatever the fuck Roman is saying.
“Ah,” Nicolas says, his voice low, “I see.” He blows out a breath, twists back around, but I’m still staring dead ahead as Roman’s knee knocks against Sid’s.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
“I told him she was off limits. He just likes to talk, let it go.” Nicolas slides the cash from under my hand and I straighten, pressing my palm flat against my thigh.
It’s my left hand, and it’s starting to tremble.
The marijuana is wearing off, and my vape is in the car. I hadn’t planned to be here long. I own a few clubs, and I enjoy the scene every now and then, but I thought I’d show up for Nicolas, deal with the piece of shit dealer, then take Sid home. Still, with the thud of the bass booming from the door of the back room—Fuck You by Yo Gotti—and the green and blue lights edging under the crack of the door, I’d almost wondered if Sid and I could enjoy the night out.
I wouldn’t mind her fine ass dancing on my lap.
But now I think I’ll have to call in a cleanup crew to get Roman’s blood out of my furniture.
I stand, Nicolas too, wrapping a rubber band around the bills and tossing it in the black bag on the couch. He shifts a step to the side, trying to block my view of Roman and my sister, but I’m taller than he is, so that’s not really going to work.
I glance at the door, see my bouncer with his eyes on them, too.
Everyone knows my girl is off fucking limits. Nicolas shouldn’t have had to tell him.
But now Roman wants to fuck with me.
I’m not really in the mood to be fucked with.
I graze my fingers over the gun on my hip but think the better of it. Instead, I keep staring at him while I roll up my shirtsleeves, to my forearms.
I see Sid turn toward me, her gray eyes wary as she watches me with Roman—oblivious—still talking in her ear. She brushes back her bangs from her face, raises her chin, arches a brow, as if to ask me what the fuck I think I’m doing.
She knows how I am. More than anyone else in the world, she knows me. And now that I’ve finally got her here, with me by choice, she should know I’m not about to let some fuck boy with a nose ring mess that up for me.
