Page 14 of The Boss
“Did they let her go?” Killough raised an eyebrow.
Harold nodded furiously. “It was the only way I could save her.”
Killough glanced at Conall, and the iciness in his stare left him breathless and afraid.
One of the guards grabbed a handful of Harold’s hair, dragging his head back.
Then Killough looked back at the man kneeled in front of him. “Don’t worry, Harold, she’ll be joining you.”
Harold didn’t have time to gasp before Killough slashed the knife across his throat. Blood squirted from his neck and splattered across the floorboards, some missing Conall’s foot by inches. He didn’t know how none landed on Killough, but it all seemed to miss him, except his hand, which still held the bloody knife.
They say surprising events happen in slow motion, but it was a lie. It happened so quickly that Conall couldn’t keep up with the scene. One minute, Killough was there slicing the neck of a sickly man, then he was passing the blade to his guard and wiping his hand on a white cloth as he sauntered back toward Conall.
Conall couldn’t tear his eyes away from Harold’s convulsing body, which convulsed on the ground, his last breath leaving his body in a shuddering exhale before he stilled. His blood seeped through the grooves on the floor, and his wide eyes stared at Conall pleadingly until the life left them.
He startled when Killough touched his shoulder, and his shocked stare shot to him.
Killough smirked, the twist of his lips terrifying. The scar over his eye looked more daunting than ever, and Conall’s stomach clenched, tightening until he felt physically sick. His eyes darted from Killough to the crumpled body on the ground.
“That’s what happens when someone betrays me, pet.” Killough squeezed his arm and turned him toward Fionn. “This is my nephew and apprentice, Fionn. Nephew, meet my new pet, Conall.”
Fionn nodded sharply. “A new one already, Sloan?”
Killough laughed, his chest rumbling deep and dark. “Yes, but this is the one I’ve been looking for.”
Fionn’s gaze roamed over him again, the judgement obvious. “He doesn’t look impressive. Is he one of the whores at that whorehouse you visited?”
“No, I’m fucking not,” Conall snapped before he could stop himself. He jerked his arm out of Killough’s hold and took a step back. His heart thumped against his rib cage and each breath he took rattled at his lungs. He could almost taste the coppery blood in the air, and his gut lurched, the urge to empty his stomach making him gag. “I’m not anyone’s whore.”
Fionn’s eyebrows rose together; Conall supposed he couldn’t do the one-eyebrow raise like Killough could. Not many people could. “He needs to learn some manners.”
Conall glared at him. “I’m not anyone’s fucking pet or their slut. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my room to have a shower. I think I got blood on my expensive shirt.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Spinning on his heel, he stormed out of the room and toward the front foyer. Two men guarded the front doors, and they watched him carefully when he entered. He flipped them the bird before he took the stairs two at a time. By the time he got to his room, the fear had passed, replaced by anger—anger at his brother for putting him in this situation, anger at Killough for being a dirty fucker, and anger at his dad for involving their family in the mob. Maybe it was his grandfather who had. He didn’t even know anymore. They’d been a part of the Irish mob since he was born, so he hated whoever made deals with the devil.
He slammed the door to his room closed, making it shudder on its hinges, and headed to the bathroom. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped inside the glamourous shower that would have made anyone sigh in pleasure. He certainly did, despite the anger still boiling in his gut. The hot spray felt good against his sore muscles as it washed away the dried cum and imaginary grime and blood he’d felt on his skin. He closed his eyes and groaned—Fuck. This is nice. If I wasn’t going to be the boss’s whore, I might be able to enjoy this.
He’d been so enraptured by the water massage that he hadn’t heard the door open. When hands touched his shoulders, his eyes slammed open. He didn’t glance behind him because he knew who it was.
“Shh.” The strong hands massaged down his back, tracing his spine until they reached his arse. Fingers seized flesh there, squeezing, and Conall gasped. It brought him back to reality and he slapped the hands away, spinning on his heel.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he growled.
Killough stood there, naked and wet, with his bleached hair plastered to his forehead. His golden skin looked amazing under the lights of the bathroom. Muscles shifted under the hot spray of water and his cock stood in salute, and if Conall licked his lips, it was only because he wasn’t blind and very much a male himself.
Then Killough wrapped his hand around his own cock and stroked.
Oh fuck.
Chapter Four
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Sloan curled his fingers around his own cock, jerking it lazily. After Conall had stormed off in a typical brat temper tantrum, Fionn had questioned his choices. Sloan had been quick to shut it down. He knew Fionn, and his nephew had a jealous streak in him. While there were no incestuous feelings between them, Fionn craved Sloan’s attention. He wanted Sloan to praise him, and while Sloan did it when he felt like it was justified, he also believed too much commendation resulted in overconfidence. He wouldn’t do that to his favorite nephew.
Sloan loved Conall’s bratty behavior, though. He wanted a pet that behaved badly so he could punish him and bring him back into line. Conall was exactly what he’d been looking for, and he wasn’t going to let him go anytime soon. None of his other pets had the fire his new pet had.
Stripping himself of his clothes, Sloan stepped into the shower without Conall even noticing. That was another thing he’d have to teach his pet. When word got out that he was Sloan’s, Conall would need to be more vigilant. Sloan’s enemies would come for him like they had for Taylor. Sloan hadn’t cared enough for Taylor to send his soldiers after him, but Conall was different already, and he hadn’t had him for more than a day. Anyone who touched his pet without Sloan’s permission would experience a very painful death.
