Page 25 of The Queen's Vow (Ruthless Games 2)

TWELVE

JULIAN

“God, yes. Becca, suckmy cock.” With my eyes closed, I let myself just feel her warm mouth taking me deep. Swallowing me, bringing me to the edge of sanity.

“Who the hell is Becca?” a strange voice screeched.

My eyes shot open and I found a set of dark brown eyes staring at me. “What?”

Where the fuck was I?

“I had your dick in my mouth and you said, yeah, suck me, Becca.”

Holy shit, did I say that out loud?

The last two hours crashed back into me.

Happy Hour.

Bar.

Pretty girl.

Two drinks.

Maybe four.

Okay five.

“Wanna go back to my place?” That seductive mouth of hers was hard to resist.

I didn’t want a relationship. With anyone. I figured, if she was offering no-strings sex, why not?

“Sorry?” I said, covering my eyes.

“You’re not sure if you’re sorry.” She sat back and folded her arms across some very nice tits.

I reached for my cock which had softened when my brain stopped fantasizing about Rebecca Domenico sucking me off. How the hell it even entertained the idea of growing painfully hard with someone else in the first place astonished me. But I’d gotten hard, so I guess my brain and my dick made a deal.

Wasn’t that always the case?

And how guys got into trouble.

And thrown out of a Brooklyn walk-up apartment at... I glanced at my watch. Six-thirty p.m. Still fucking light out. How embarrassing.

“So, this is awkward?” I said sheepishly to the woman who if she put a gun to my head and asked me what her name was, my answer would be: Just pull the trigger.

She had dark hair just like Becca and my imagination ran away with thoughts that had me paying the bar tab and hailing a cab.

Sliding a robe over her shoulders, the woman said, “I’m guessing you don’t want my number.”

“I’m guessing you’re better off if I just leave.”

“Honesty. That’s refreshing. Most guys take it and say, yeah, yeah, I’m gonna call you.”

I locked a frozen expression on my face while putting my pants on unable to argue because I’d become obsessed with a woman who would never be mine.

How ironic, when I’d figured out she and I had chemistry, she became a witness in an investigation and off-limits.

Even more shocking than Rebecca taking over her father’s organized crime world in a whirlwind that including a fight with a Filipino drug manufacturer to stop the sale of a date rape drug, she also had to fight Sebastien Daria, Anthony Messina Jr., and Giancarlo Byrne.

Three ruthless mob princes if I’d ever met one.

Rebecca fought them. And won.

She formed some kind of alliance with them. Messina, Daria, and Byrne were often seen going into her Wall Street office and on occasion, the nights I drank too much and wandered down her block, one or two or all of them would be in her townhouse. I couldn’t understand why though. Giovanni Domenico usually ordered those guy’s fathers around. Not play footsie with them. I trusted Becca knew what she was doing. She was smart.

The metal door slamming in my face as I tried to say goodbye in the hallway knocked me out of my thoughts. Holding my shirt and looking down, I breathed a sigh of relief that I had shoes on.

The June heat in New York City warmed up the sidewalks, but I didn’t want to go into the subway barefoot. On the stairs, I put my shirt on and then my jacket, relieved I’d left my gun in the office since I had that bar in my plans.

Where the heck was I? I stupidly hadn’t paid attention in the cab. I’d tipped my head back when the woman massaged my cock.

I looked down at him. “Sorry, man.”

Out on the street, my phone blew up. Chime after chime. Texts. Missed calls. Voicemails. Spinning around, I realized I must have been in some damn dead spot.

“It’s me,” I said, calling my assistant. “What happened?”

“A CI working with Agent Briggs said someone tried to kill Rebecca Domenico a few hours ago at her father’s funeral. Right after the service at the cemetery.”

My heart stopped. “Tried, as in they didn’t succeed?”

“She walked into her townhouse ten minutes ago, so no, she didn’t die.”

“Who knows this?”

“A tech team is setting up in the conference room. We’re not sure if this falls under our Fed mandate yet, but the name Domenico still sets off alarms here. Since the attempted hit was on Long Island, Nassau County cops would—”

“We’re Feds, this has a RICO stink all over it. We should have jurisdiction,” I said, breaking into an all-out run to the corner.

“You’re in Brooklyn?”

“You’re tracking my phone?”

“I am now that you have a signal.”

“Can you send a car for me?”

“It’s quicker if you just grab a cab.”

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