DR. Delight: A Standalone Forbidden Romance by Mia Ford, Brenda Ford (38)

Butch rose from his chair.

“Have him look everywhere in that fucking room. I mean everywhere. But he needs to put things back the way he found them. I can’t have her knowing we’ve been there. She’s my goddamn sister, and she thinks she has privacy.”

“Sure, boss.”

“And get some ice on that nose. You look like crayons melted all over your face.”

When the door closed behind him, I thought about Danny O’Shea. Once I knew what Hannah might be hiding, and I had her back in control, I’d figure out what O’Shea meant to my life.

An asset or danger?

I hadn’t decided yet, but I could deal with either one.

Both could be good for business.

 

Chapter Twelve: Danny

Hannah had been sending me glances all day, the kinds of glances that made a man think of things other than work, other than taking an actual breath.

Surrounded by pussy all day long, willing pussy at that, and all I could think about was the dark-haired beauty behind the bar, so near, yet so far. She might as well have been Rapunzel in that tower, dark instead of blonde, a dusky princess waiting to start her life, waiting for her savior.

That man could be me, but I couldn’t reach her unless she opened up that magical pass-through on the bar and let me inside.

I’d gotten used to her watching me surreptitiously. Today, though, those stares were more overt, as though something brewed in that mysterious mind of hers and I had taken a prime spot in her thoughts. I didn’t mind it, but it did spark fantasies and make my cock think something might actually happen. We were both going to be so disappointed if those fantasies turned out to be a bust.

Charity noticed the extra glances. At one point in the afternoon she made a point of snagging my attention and drawing me to one of the tables as she bussed it.

“You need to stop what you’re doing,” Charity said, glancing toward the bar. “Whatever it is.”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Sure,” Charity said, dropping several bottles into the tub. “You keep saying that, Danny, and maybe someone will believe it. Me, I see the looks, and I’m just saying if you want to stay healthy, you’ll leave it alone.”

“You mean Hannah,” I said.

“Yes, I mean Hannah,” she whispered furiously. “Richie decides who Hannah sees. He steers men in her direction, and she chooses.”

“Does Hannah know that?”

“I don’t know what Hannah knows. I just know Richie decides what he wants for his little sister, and he doesn’t want you.”

“Hannah can make her own choices,” I pointed out.

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong, Danny, and if you keep this up, you’re going to find out just how wrong you are.” She put her hand on mine. “Come on, Danny, be smart. We don’t want to lose you around here.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“If you don’t stop looking at her like that, we will.” She grabbed her tub and vanished toward the kitchen.

Richie had already warned me away from Hannah, but for some reason, now that Charity had made my survival her mission, that warning took on another proportion. I could have written off her concern to jealousy since I’d chosen Hannah over her, but I thought it was more than. She seemed to like Hannah, and she seemed to like me, and Charity was an okay girl.

Carmen was okay too. He had come in and out of the bar a few times, showing Hannah paperwork, gathering keys. Carmen was a good guy, and obviously Hannah liked him. She spoke to him with kindness, and when she offered him a soft drink, he gratefully sank onto a stool and drank it slowly. Something about the guy seemed down today, though I guess when you’re a handyman trapped working for a guy like Richie, it gave you plenty to be down about. Still, seeing a sober man slumped over the bar with his head hanging like a doomed man’s cast a pall over the place, despite the cranked-up music and catcalls.

Six o’clock rolled around, and Steve sauntered into the place to the dangerous rhythm of “Bad to the Bone,” the chain on his wallet swinging and his Mohawk swaying with each step. That song suited him to a T, and I almost laughed, but something about the comparison made me a bit queasy.

Time for a mental switch. Easy, casual went out the window as I pulled my head away from its fantasies of an Italian princess spread on luxurious sheets, waiting for me to make her wildest dreams come true. I pulled out the tough bouncer, ready to ward off problems.

Hannah spoke to Steve for a few minutes, which was their usual routine. Hannah usually made sure most of the regulars’ tabs were paid when she left, but inevitably there were a few holdovers, most often out-of-towners who’d just arrived and planned to stay for the nighttime vibe. So there was always a bit unfinished business to be discussed between shifts. She grabbed her purse and keys and stood there for a few minutes with her head down, her tits rising and falling as she seemingly trying to gather courage for something. Curious, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She looked ambivalent, a look I’d never seen on Hannah before.

Finally, she raised her face, and her gaze locked right on me. She gestured, a small flick of her hand indicating she wanted me to come to her. Confused, but somehow excited, I snapped one quick look to the stage perimeter to be sure things were cool and then moved toward the bar.

I met her at the pass-through.

She licked her luscious lips as I waited for whatever she needed to say. Maybe one of the girls needed extra attention tonight. That happened sometimes when Hannah got a strange vibe or one of the girls had gotten bizarre messages on Facebook.

She shocked me when she said, “We have an hour. Follow me.”

Holy fuck.

She pushed through the door into the dark hallway, where only one dim overhead lamp spread a small pool of light. I followed. I still had no way of knowing what this meant, but my cock seemed to understand perfectly. It pressed against my zipper with a force I hadn’t felt in months, hard, pulsing.

When we arrived at the stairs, she reached behind and took my hand. The warm slide of her fingers into mine sent an unexpected burst of heat through my body. I hadn’t held a woman’s hand in years, and that small gesture brought memories flashing through my head. Movies. Picnics. Carnivals. Dances. Making out in cars and basements. Football games. Cheerleaders. My first crush. My first blowjob. My first fuck. My first love. All of it met and merged like lightning strikes between our hands.

Emotions, some I’d thought long gone, erupted. Happiness. Friendship. Hope.

It was innocent. Trusting. Sublime.

I squeezed her hand and followed her like a lamb to the slaughter. Richie and Butch could have been waiting behind that closed door at the top of the stairs to tear my head from my shoulders and I would have still followed just to hold that dainty hand.

She keyed three separate locks, and then we were inside.

No Richie. No Butch. Just a girl whose perfume smelled like a flower garden in spring.

She stared up at me like the world’s most precious gift.

And I was thinking weird thoughts like the world’s biggest sap, but I couldn’t help it. She did something to me.

She closed the door, leaned back, and then grabbed fistfuls of my shirt.

It was the only invitation I needed.

I grabbed her arms, yanked her against me, and slammed my mouth over hers. She lifted onto her toes to press harder. My tongue swept inside her mouth, finding warmth and an unbelievable sweetness. My hands found her ass and lifted, and she wrapped her legs around my waist instinctively. Pressing her tight against the door, I reveled in the sensations of her soft willing flesh smashed against the hardness of my own. My mouth roamed from her lips to her ear and down the column of her throat. Her head fell back, granting me more access, and I nipped and sucked at every exposed inch, cupping her face and holding her still as I pressed kisses against her pulse and her chin.

I needed, though, to feel skin. I pressed her harder in place then yanked her red blouse over her head, revealing a lacy cotton bra that, in any other moment, I might have taken the time to admire. I couldn’t stop. I slipped my hands behind her, undid the clasp, and let the bra drop to the floor, staring as sweet plump tits spilled out. Lifting her higher, I clamped my mouth over one tight nipple and suckled. Her moans made my cock harden further, and precum dampened my pants.

My tongue toyed with the taut nipple, swirling around it and then sucking and drawing it out between my lips. She raked her fingers through my hair, clutching my head and drawing me closer, her legs tightening around my waist as she rubbed her pussy against me, creating friction. The smell of her arousal spiked through the air, musky, sweet, compelling. Her skin was pure fire, and the taste of her tits, her mouth, her flesh made me hard as a fucking hammer. I could have pounded nails, but my cock had other ideas. We were going to pound her.

Chapter Thirteen: Hannah

It was risky. I knew it, he knew it, and still I’d been compelled to do this. If we were never going to be in the same place at the same time again, I needed to know what had happened between us and what, if any, kind of future existed for us. I wanted a future. I wanted out of this place. I wanted Danny O’Shea. I didn’t care where he’d come from, who he really was, or what he was looking for in life. I hoped he’d been looking for me.

I thought he, somehow, saw the real me, the one buried beneath the Hannah who ran the bar, the Hannah who had a bastard for a brother, the Hannah who was been trapped in the South Side with no way out. If he could see the real me, I had to know for sure.

The man did something to me. My pussy clenched, my tits swelled, my clit throbbed any time I caught a glance of him. When he smiled or winked or—God help me—even looked in my direction, my heart soared with a kind of happiness I hadn’t felt in my entire adult life, and very seldom in my childhood.

Now he was here in my arms. His hair felt like silk, his body like a redwood, his cock, which pulsed against my ass, like a steel rod.

I clutched his head between my hands as though he were the only thing holding me to earth, yet in his arms, I felt like a soaring bird, free to fly, free to strive for things I’d long wanted but never had the strength to take. I would take this. I would take him.

His lips caught at my nipple again, sucking, pulling, threatening to steal my willpower and judgment. I gave them willingly. Each touch of his lips sent a fire through my veins, burning, flashing bright all the way to the aching bud between my thighs. His hands clutched my ass, kneading and tugging me against him so hard and close there wasn’t a breath of air between our bodies.

We’d yet to say a word, but our bodies had said so many things over the last week I didn’t think words were even necessary. Pure want. Pure need. Pure pleasure.

Danny pushed a hand between us, and his thumb found my clit. That tiny bit of pressure rocketed through me so fast that my entire body shuddered in his grasp. The sensation snaked up my spine and set my brain on fire. I pressed harder against him, and he began to rub, the friction through my boy shorts and panties sparking an orgasm within moments. I quaked and clutched him tighter, my moans sounding weak and helpless, but I felt anything but weak and helpless. I felt powerful, alive, yearning for more.

I cried out, and his mouth covered mine. Even with the rhythmic thump of the music beneath our feet and through the barrier of the door, somehow, he knew that small sound could trigger an alarm in someone who might overhear. I was grateful for his kiss, for his caution.

As the orgasm abated, I slumped against him, and he took that as a signal. His hand left my ass, and the sweet sigh of a zipper being pulled met my ears. He slid his fingers inside my shorts and panties and pulled the material to the side and then rammed his long, hard cock into my pussy in one stroke. I was so wet it slid inside easily all the way to the hilt. So hard. So strong. So thick and long. I had only one thought. Mine.

The pressure of that pulsing cock nearly made me swoon as it filled me, seeming to swell within me to stroke every inch of my aching flesh. The glide and slide of his hot skin against my even hotter flesh felt like heaven, the smooth velvety shaft rubbing over my G-spot and causing an ache to spiral through my pelvis. I tilted my hips slightly and ground my clit against his body, a signal to move.

He began to pump, his lips locked on my throat, sucking and licking and then pressing open-mouthed kisses on my pulse. His cock pounded into me with the strength of a battering ram, and like a plundered door, I opened and accepted everything he had to give. Danny made soft sounds as his cock mercilessly rammed into my cunt. Juices dripped between my legs, and my orgasm began to build. The combination of his cock rubbing my G-spot and my clit burning against his clothing brought my senses to overload. Heat curled through my body, and sweat began to pool between my tits. Danny lifted me slightly and licked the salty sweat from my skin, drawing soft flesh into his mouth and tonguing it and flicking my nipples again and again until the very touch of his tongue took me to delirious heights.

I ran my hands over his strong shoulders and down his chest, finally snatching his T-shirt and yanking it over his head. I touched his muscles for the first time, hard mounds of flesh that rippled and flexed beneath my fingers. I squeezed and stroked, feeling the smooth, firm skin and dark swirls of hair, longing to touch my mouth to every inch of him. My fingers slid over the tats covering his arms and his massive chest, dark, somewhat primal spirals that seemed to breathe with a life of their own.

My cunt clenched down on his cock, and his breathing hitched. He latched onto my nipple and bit me softly and then rammed into me one last time. His body shuddered, and mine followed, both of us quaking against the door, holding on to one another like lifelines. His cock pulsed within me, and my pussy spasmed, over and over, holding his body tightly within mine as though I could hold him to me forever with my grip.

He pumped a few more times, and small quivers snaked through my pussy, my clit still aching. I rubbed it quickly against him, sending more flutters through my pelvis to shock me into another small orgasm. Then I cupped his face. I lifted it from my tits and kissed him. Softly. Tenderly. Like a lover.

He stared at me for a long moment, those dark eyes glittering with both desire and satiation. His gaze went from my eyes to my lips and came back to my eyes.

“We should talk,” he said.

“I guess we should.”

He pulled away gently, the loss of his cock a void I couldn’t fill on my own. He lowered me to the floor and, like a gentleman, righted my shorts and reached for my shirt. I shook my head. I liked the way he stared at me, as though my body held secrets he longed to unlock. If he asked, I’d give him the key.

I’d probably give him anything.

 

Chapter Fourteen: Danny

I’d known she was beautiful. Every day I’d been lucky enough to stare at the olive skin, the raven hair that spilled over her shoulders in soft waves, the ocean-blue eyes that sparkled when she chatted with her customers and flashed when she argued with Butch. But now I saw more. Those large tits topped with luscious pink nipples, that juicy cunt that had held my cock like a vise, squeezing me until all I could think of was her, and this rocking bod, which glowed with health and vitality, her skin smooth and unblemished. All of it created a beautiful image, that most wondrous of creatures—a perfect woman.

But inside of that perfect woman was a girl I barely knew. A real one, beyond the bartender, beyond the sister, beyond the boss. I’d caught glimpses of her when she glanced at me. I’d heard her when she giggled at something a customer said. I’d watched her as she gave out gestures of kindness like candy to children. This was the Hannah I wanted to see more of. This was the Hannah I thought just might change my life.

I cupped my hand against her cheek, and she cuddled her face into my palm.

“Why today?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Why not today?”

“The Hannah I know doesn’t do spontaneous. I think you planned this, you little minx.”

She blushed a bit, so pretty on her, and then smiled. “I guess you know me too well.”

“Not nearly well enough,” I said, “but we can fix that.”

She sighed, a heavy sigh that filled her chest and then deflated like a balloon. I lifted her face up to mine and kissed her softly on the lips.

“Hey, it’s not as bad as all that.”

She shook her head and then plopped onto the sofa. “Once he gets his hooks into you, you’re lost to me.”

“No, never.”

“You don’t know Richie, at least not well enough.” She clutched her hands together and gave me a small, pitiful look. “I guess…I guess I just needed to fuck you one time, see if my feelings were real, and if they were, whether I can leave them in the past.”

“And can you?”

“I don’t think so,” she said miserably.

“I think it’s more than that.” I sat down beside her and took her hands in mine, small warm hands that fluttered like baby birds. “Your feelings are real, Hannah. I know that because mine are real.” She glanced up suddenly, her eyes hopeful, and I nodded.

“Really?”

“Really,” I said with a smile. “But I think you suspected that. There’s something between us, and we both feel it.” I paused, unsure what to ask, not wanting to scare her or take away any happiness we’d created today. Finally, I said, “What are you really afraid of?”

She gave me a slide-glance and turned her head, but not before I saw the single tear track down her cheek. I gathered her into my arms and lay back, cradling her. My fingers drifted over the swell of her tit, gliding over smooth flesh and circling the nipple, which, despite her tears, puckered under my touch.

“Come on, baby, talk. We’ll figure it out.”

“Oh, Danny, you have no idea what’s going to happen here. Richie has arranged things now. We’ll never see one another. Our paths will never cross. Somehow, he knows I’ve developed…these feelings, and he’s not going to allow them to grow. He’ll kill them like he kills everything else. I should never have done this.”

She burst into tears, and I grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table. Funny how the box was just sitting right there. Did Hannah often spend her evenings crying?

That shit stopped now.

I cradled her tight and let her cry for a few moments, and when the sobs turned to sniffles, I handed her the tissue. She blew her nose, a small delicate noise, and then I sat up and took hold of her shoulders. She kept her head down until I said, “Look at me.”

I pointed to my face. “See this mug?”

She nodded.

“If you think this is the last you’ll see of it, think again, doll. This is me telling you that there’s something here, something I want to pursue, and I think you want to pursue it too. Am I right or wrong?”

She licked her lips as though trying to find the right words.

“Whether you’re right or wrong, whether we want something or not, doesn’t mean we’ll get what we want.”

I shook my head. “Hannah, you don’t know me well enough, but believe me when I say that what I want, I get.” I gave her shoulders a shake and smiled. “I got you, didn’t I?”

She giggled, that soft sweet sound that sent ripples of happiness through my body, ending in my cock of course. No matter what was going on, everything eventually ended in my cock. It was the way I was wired. My cock had already perked right up, eager for another go at the pretty girl.

I glanced at the clock on the cable box. 6:20. We had another glorious forty minutes to explore bodies, hash out emotions, and seal our fates. It had taken me just twenty minutes to realize this woman might be the love of my life.

I pushed her down on the sofa, and she gave me another giggle. I whipped her shorts and panties off so fast I think I made her head spin. She lay there blinking up at me. I stood, shucked my pants as fast as I could, and when she opened her arms, I found shelter and joy there, along with three more orgasms.

I’m not sure how many she had, but I came through like a champ. She came easily, her cum bathing my cock, filling my mouth, leaking on my thighs. She sucked my cock like a professional, swallowing my cum when I came down her throat. I spilled deep into her cunt, feeling her pussy clench and milk my cock to the last drop of cum, and then I came between her tits and watched as her finger swooped up the cum and she licked it off.

This woman might have been my soul mate.

Soul mate or not, I promised I’d make arrangements to clean her couch. It was the least I could do.

When I left her at the door at 6:55, my pulse quickened. A part of me—a really stupid part—wondered if she was right. Richie had already warned me away from his sister. I’d somehow worked my way onto the map of Hannah’s life, and I sensed a collision coming. My only hope was that, no matter what happened to me, Hannah would never feel the repercussions of our afternoon delight.

I had my own asshole moments, but I was basically an okay guy, and I wanted her safe and happy, preferably as part of my life. But if I had to abandon her to keep her safe, I would. Even though I wasn’t sure I’d ever be the same.

Chapter Fifteen: Richie

Archie Dee reached into his pocket with his good hand—the other was still in a cast—and then tossed some things on my desk.

“What the fuck is all this?”

I stared at the five thumb drives spread on the mahogany surface.

“They’re flash drives,” Archie said helpfully

“I know that, shit-for-brains. What’s on them?”

Archie shrugged. “I don’t know, but you said anything strange or suspicious, right?”

When I waved my hand, gesturing for him to go on, he shrugged again. The ever-to-the-point Archie Dee. If I could figure out how to get anything useful in a timely manner out of the man, I’d be able to keep my blood pressure under control. As it was, my head hurt.

“How do you know if they’re suspicious if you don’t know what’s on them?” I asked. “They could be copies of her stupid books or old bar accounts.”

“Well,” Archie said as he leaned forward, “I found them hidden inside cardboard tubes.”

“Huh?” Butch asked.

So profound. My brain actually lost IQ points once I left the Loop and came here to surround myself with these two.

Archie smiled. “In her tampon box.”

“What the fuck?” Butch said, lurching back like the flash drives had emitted radiation. “You went into her tampons? That’s freaking sick, Arch.”

“Tampons are just cotton, Butch. Nothing to be scared of.”

I lifted one of the thumb drives and studied it for any sort of marking. Just a plain old drive. I stuck it into the USB port and waited for a second while the drive opened.

“Arch, what made you look in her tampon box?” Archie’s decision showed a willingness to go above and beyond, and that choice had roused my curiosity.

“Oh, I’d already gone through just about everything. Her calendar was empty except I saw your birthday’s coming up, boss. Congratulations in case I don’t see you.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Her books are all crap. Her video collection sucks. Rom-coms up the ass. Her desk has nothing but office supplies. Her computer was password protected, but I guess we could find someone to hack into it if you wanted. I know a guy who—”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, waving my hand.

“Her drawers have nothing but clothing, and boy, she could sure use some new lingerie. Most everything looks like it came from Walmart, though she does have a few sexy things and—“

Butch shoved an elbow in his side, saving me the need to respond.

“I think if you gave her a raise, she—”

“Is there a point to this?” I asked.

“Just making sure you know I covered all the bases.”

I glanced at the computer screen and discovered folders labeled Lesson 1, Lesson 2, up through Lesson 6. I clicked on one and perused the file names. Accounting terms. Business lessons. It appeared my little sister had signed up for some sort of accounting program, and based on the logo dotting the materials, she’d done it through Phoenix Online. The little bitch had made a decision about her life without consulting me. No wonder she’d seemed a bit off. Hiding such a massive secret must have been stressful. She must have been sweating bullets. Now I wasn’t surprised she changed her locks so often. I’d thought it might be because of Butch, but now I knew better.

“You never answered my question, Arch,” I said as I continued to scroll.

Archie frowned and then brightened. “Oh, the tampon box. That was easy. After I’d already gone through the calendar—”

“Keep focused.”

“I read a book once where a lady thief stuffed the stolen jewelry in her tampons to smuggle it through customs. So”—he shrugged—“it just came to me to try looking there.”

“Repeat that,” Butch said, wearing a dumbfounded look. “You said you read a book?”

“Jeez, Butch, I know how to read. What do you think I do with my free time, hump my cat?”

“You have a cat?” Butch asked.

“Enough, you two.” I pulled the drive from my computer. “I’ve got to go through these, and I need quiet.”

“What’s on there, boss?” Butch asked.

“Hannah just handed me back my control,” I said.

Butch and Arch exchanged a glance, but I’d had it with the two stooges. I gestured toward the door, and they both—blessedly—took the hint.

“Oh, Arch…”

He turned around.

“Meet Butch at the warehouse tomorrow, and he’ll hook you up with some extra juice for the month.”

“Thanks, boss.” He gave me a salute. “Happy to help. And if you have a birthday party, let me know.”

I waved him away, my mind already elsewhere.

When the door was shut, I put the second flash drive into the USB, got out my Macallan, and settled back for a little light reading. It seemed little sis had been busy over the last year working toward an actual degree.

Now I had her right where she needed to be. Back under my thumb.

I flipped one of the flash drives in my fingers.

Such a small thing and pretty innocuous in the grand scheme of things.

Almost everyone used them nowadays.

Probably safer than calls or texts—and easily destroyed when plans were firm.

“Thanks, little sis. You’re a fucking genius.”

Chapter Sixteen: Danny

The weekend came, and I couldn’t see Hannah. That would trip all levels of suspicion. But I thought about her, about the warmth of her body, the feel of her cunt, the smell of her hair. I had sappy thoughts about taking her to Navy Pier and strolling down the walkway with margaritas while we watched the boats, maybe even taking one of those cruise ships to view the skyline from the water. I hadn’t done that since I was a kid.

Chicago got a bad rap sometimes because it was busy and sometimes dirty and often dangerous, but the city had a vibrancy and energy that never quit. Chicago was filled with color and sights and sounds and smells that couldn’t be found anywhere else. The denizens bustled about as they worked hard and partied harder, and the visitors stared in wonder at the buildings and lakes and museums. Granted, most of that took place in the Chicago you see in the movies and hear about from friends. Not many people ventured to the South Side unless you’d been born there.

Which meant not many people knew the South Side had its charms.

Because I couldn’t be with Hannah, I decided to leave my old haunt and go to the Navy Pier on my own. I left my ratty shit-mobile parked and ordered a Uber about a mile from the apartment.

As I leaned back in the brand-new Taurus, I watched the south side of the city pass me by. Dozens of pickup games were in progress in the neighborhood parks and playgrounds. Pickup games were easy to find. If you had a hankering to play some ball, all you had to do was throw some stones and you’d find four or five other guys with the same idea.

Some of the best restaurants in Chicago found a home on the South Side. You could find ethnic food of all varieties as well as home-cooked meals that would make your mother cry. The smells alone could pull people out of the good neighborhoods and bring them into ours, at least for an afternoon.

The Taurus passed vendors plying their wares on the corners, some of them knock-offs, others displaying T-shirts with the home teams and bootleg copies of DVDs. You could find anything on the South Side, which the pool halls and strip clubs and porn shops testified to.

You could also find plenty of danger, and I never recommended a visitor just stroll through the streets like they might the Miracle Mile. Most neighborhoods were okay—if you lived there. Any outsider, though, was treated with suspicion, and suspicion generally meant you went home without your wallet and jewelry. Hopefully you left with your body intact, but that wasn’t guaranteed.

Despite that, I also knew danger lurked elsewhere in the city. Some of the areas north of town got pretty damn scary after dark.

I liked living in the South Side. It had been good to me and my family. We felt at home there. It was why all eight of us still lived there, like satellites all revolving around our parents. There was that hitch again, that moment when I couldn’t get my breath. Why was it so hard to remember someone was dead?

Even with the summer traffic, we arrived at the Pier in good time. I’d been lost in my thoughts, and it had felt nice to let my guard down and relax. That hadn’t happened in over a week now. I gave the lady driver a hefty tip, partly because she’d been willing to pick up someone on the South Side. She’d also kept her mouth shut and let me think my own thoughts in companionable silence. The little Yorkie in her arms had stared at me the whole time over her shoulder and made me think that maybe getting a dog might be a nice idea. I wondered if Hannah liked dogs.

Daniel Dutton had taken plenty of girls to the Pier, but I strolled the cement as Danny O’Shea on Sunday. I got plenty of looks and a few come-ons from the pretty ladies drinking their wine at the outside venues, trying to look cool on the blistering day. I sat and chatted with a few, even bought a couple drinks, but that wasn’t why I was out. I pictured myself holding Hannah’s hand, listening to her laugh, watching the wonder in her eyes as she viewed the beautiful water and glistening boats.

Once I had a margarita in my hand, I planned to call Pops and have a father-son chat. I wanted to fill him in on Hannah. I wanted his take on it, and though I suspected he’d caution me about the dangers of going after Silvestri’s sister, I thought he’d probably see a glimpse of the same future I saw. My dad and I always shared similar wavelengths. He would probably see exactly what I was.

I had to face it. I was quickly becoming pussy whipped.

Chapter Seventeen: Hannah

My weekends were always busy, taking care of errands, delivering leftover food to the homeless shelter down the street, and visiting my grandmother in the retirement home where Richie had dumped her. She was my mother’s mother, so she had no real money of her own, and Richie wasn’t about to share his. He did pay for the facility, but it wasn’t the best one in the city, though he could have easily afforded any facility in Chicago. I think Richie felt the need to punish our grandmother for abandoning us to our father when Mom died.

I never saw it as abandonment. I’d known my father pretty well, and though Richie got the brunt of his viciousness, Father’s lack of humanity and compassion extended to everyone he came into contact. Exceptions had never been made for two kids.

Richie hadn’t understood that our grandmother had little choice in our futures. Without any money or power or any other resources, she couldn’t fight for us. She became nothing more than a nuisance, and Father treated her as such. Now Richie did the same.

Still, I loved her, and if I ever got any money of my own—real money that could make a difference—I planned to help her in any way I could. In the meantime, though, the best I could do was visit, buy her yarn for her endless projects, and tell her my dreams and ambitions. I knew she would keep my secrets.

That weekend I told her about Danny. I wasn’t sure where our relationship would lead to, or even if we had a real one at this point, but it felt real. I needed to share it with someone.

By Sunday night I was exhausted, but I had an assignment to get done for an online class on Monday evening. I slogged through the course work, feeling like I’d rather be in bed, and when I finally finished at eleven thirty, I was planning to dive right into bed, put in my earplugs, and sleep in my cool apartment.

I saved everything on the flash drive and then went into the bathroom to put it with the others. I grabbed the box from the closet and immediately knew something was wrong. It was far too light.

My heart stopped. I sat on the toilet set and gingerly opened the carton. I felt as though I was defusing a bomb. Every muscle in my body was strung tight, and my nerves fired up, making my hands shake.

“No,” I whispered.

The cardboard tubes were empty.

The box fell from my hands, and tampons rolled across the cracked linoleum. I cupped my face, and hot tears scalded my hands. My mind went into overdrive as I thought of any way this could be possible. Maybe I’d moved them in my sleep. Maybe I’d been so paranoid that I’d decided another spot was better. Maybe, maybe, maybe. None of it made any sense.

“He found them…”

Mind racing, sweat dotting every inch of my skin, I thought back over the last few days. I’d put something in the box last Thursday. Friday I’d been with Danny. Could he have found them? No, he’d never been in the bathroom at all. What else had happened on Friday?

I’d woken up out of sorts, hot, cranky because…

“The AC was out.”

I got up on shaky legs and went back into the living room, glancing at the unit. After I complained about it to anyone who would listen, Carmen had come into the club with a work order, but now I realized Richie hadn’t been in the club Friday morning. I wasn’t sure I’d seen him all day. Where had the work order come from?

Frantically I glanced around my apartment, trying to see it with fresh eyes. Everything looked exactly as it always did. The books in their neat color-coded rows. The DVDs arranged on the shelves by genre. My desk holding the laptop and stapler and notepads. I ran back to the bedroom, flung open the drawers and the closet door, and studied everything. It appeared nothing had been touched. Yet I knew someone had ransacked everything. Someone had violated my privacy and stolen my possessions, but I was going to pay the price. It was just a matter of when and how.

“That son of a bitch.”

I jerked when someone pounded on my door. Swallowing hard, I ran my hands over my face to remove tearstains and then down my shorts to remove the sweat. I suddenly felt faint, and every dream I’d had in the last five years simply vanished like a puff of smoke.

“Open the goddamned door, Hannah,” Butch shouted. “Richie wants to see you.”

Richie, the stealer of dreams, the magic man who could take away hope, happiness, and ambition with a sweep of his manicured hand over a work order.

Oh yes. I was going to pay. The knock on the door had signaled the when. Now it was just a matter of how.

Chapter Eighteen: Richie

“Come in.”

Butch stepped into the room and stood to the side of the opened door. My sister strode in, giving Butch a wide berth, chin up, shoulders back, not at all the meek little mouse I’d counted on. Well, that shit stopped now because this little tigress needed to know who ran this zoo. I waved her to a chair. Butch closed the door and stood against it. Hannah gave him a side-glance and then parked her ass in the chair like a good little girl.

“I’m disappointed in you, Hannah.”

“What’s this about, Richie? I have a busy day tomorrow, and I need to get to bed. It’s almost midnight.”

“Oh, yes, I can imagine your busy day…what with all the secrets and lies and things going on behind my back.”

She flinched for a split second, but to give her credit, she rallied well. Her face went back to stone.

I opened my drawer, scooped out the flash drives, and dumped them on my desk.

“Care to explain?”

“I assume you already know what they are,” she snapped.

“I do.”

“So why am I sitting here?” She leaned forward. “It’s coursework. I’m trying to better myself.”

“You don’t need to better yourself. I take care of you.”

“Did you expect me to just manage this club until it was time to throw me into a home like Nana?”

“How is Nana?” I asked with a tight smile.

She leapt up. Butch moved from the door, but I waved him back as Hannah stabbed her finger toward my face.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hannah snarled, and then she began to pace. “You don’t care, and you have no right to even talk about her.”

“You’re right. I don’t care, and talking about her bores me. Let’s forget about that old woman. I’ll assume she’s still alive and send next month’s check.”

She whirled around and pointed to the flash drives. “Those are mine, and I want them back.”

I swept them back into my drawer, and Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “Sit.” When she stood there staring at me, I added, “Now.”

She slumped back into the chair and glared at me.

“Let’s talk about you,” I said easily. There was no point in losing my temper unless I had to. I preferred Hannah complacent, not spitting mad.

She was still angry, but she was calmer. Things were looking brighter for me now that she’d lost that righteousness and knew things weren’t going to be easy. As for her, things were starting to look gloomier, and she recognized that.

“What about me?” she muttered.

“I can’t have you making these sorts of decisions on your own, Hannah. It’s my job to take care of you, and I will do that.”

She shook her head. “No, I need to have a future, Richie, a future that belongs to me, that I make for myself. I can’t depend on you for everything I need or want in life.” She glanced around and sneered. “I certainly want more than this dump.”

“And Danny O’Shea?” I asked. “Is he part of this grand scheme of yours?”

“Danny and I barely know one another,” she said quietly.

“That may be, though I don’t quite believe it.” I pulled my phone toward me. “I want you to hear something.” I pressed a button, and Steve’s voice came through the speaker.

“Just a heads-up, boss. Hannah asked for O’Shea’s help with something tonight. He was gone about an hour. After that, it was back to business, but something seemed off to me.”

The message ended, and I tossed the phone back to the desk. Hannah had paled a bit, and she folded her hands in her lap, but not before I saw the tremble.

“Care to explain that?”

“I gave that fucking prick all my tip money to keep his goddamned mouth shut. Rat bastard.”

“Steve’s my man, Hannah, not yours.”

“Jesus.” She raked her hair back from her face, drawing in a long breath, and then gestured toward my desk. “I needed help with some of that course work. Danny mentioned once he took some accounting in junior college.”

“That’s a lie, little sis,” I said softly.

She shook her head, and Butch moved across the room to stand by the desk.

I leaned back in my chair. “It’s a lie because on Friday evening there was no course work in your apartment,” I said, feeling greatly satisfied she was so easy to trip up. Hannah couldn’t lie her way out of a paper bag. It was one of the reasons I’d kept her clear of the business. The other was I thought she just might be good at it, and I couldn’t have that.

She blew out a breath. “That explains why Carmen looked so unhappy on Friday. He gave someone the keys, didn’t he? What did you threaten him with?”

“The usual,” I said. “But Carmen only played a small role in my little caper. Don’t be too hard on him.”

“I don’t blame him at all. Carmen’s first loyalty is to his family. But you? You have no loyalty to anyone or anything, especially family.” She leaned forward. “Why are you so threatened by the fact that I might get an education, that I might actually be good at something?”

“You’re good at a lot of things, Hannah.” I studied her. “I just don’t want you too good. Now”—I gestured to the phone—“what are we going to do about your little interlude with O’Shea?”

“Stay the fuck out of my life, Richie.”

I shook my head sadly. “I can’t do that. I’m afraid both of you are going to have to pay—in one way or another.”

“You’re a complete and utter fuck.”

“I am,” I said with a nod. “I’ll deal with O’Shea later. First, I have to deal with you.”

Hannah gulped, but she kept her eyes on me.

“I’ll let you keep your flash drives.” Her eyes widened, and for one moment, she looked hopeful. “But you’ll have to do something for me.”

There was that look of hopelessness I wanted. It fell over her face like a dark veil. She cast a glance toward Butch. “Not that.”

I smiled. “No, not that. Not yet. You can have your course work, even get your silly degree if it matters all that much. Might even work in my favor here at the club. But you’re going to have to make a trade, Hannah. I’m a businessman after all. If I’m going to subsidize your education and give you marketable skills, I have to ensure those skills work toward my best interests.”

“What do you want?” she ground out.

“I’ve been making some plans, doing some groundwork of my own. Money is good, and I have plenty of it, but more money is better. Let’s just say I’m doing a favor for a friend. The future consequences will make it well worth my while, and the favor involves a bit of adventure. I’ll need you to be my liaison while we work out the details.”

“Liaison? In what capacity?” She was a hard bargainer. I could take the credit for that. Always thinking that sister of mine.

“Courier. Just dropping things off and bringing them back to me.” I held up her hand when she opened her mouth. “Nothing illegal. It’s just communication.”

“And you’ll let me continue with school?”

I opened the drawer and returned the flash drives to the desk. “Yes.”

“And Danny?”

“I will chalk that up to your own adventurous spirit and assume it won’t happen again—whatever it was. I will chalk up his mistake to your charming and persuasive personality and assume you will ensure you’re not in the same place at the same time again.”

“Can I leave now?” Hannah said, standing.

“When I have my answer.”

“I’ll do what you asked. Just give me back my property, and I’ll need your word that you’ll never send someone into my personal space again.”

“You have my word—as long as you don’t give me a reason to do so.”

Hannah swept the flash drives into her hands and whirled around, stomping to the door.

“Open the fucking door, Butch,” she snarled.

Butch gave me a look and rolled his eyes. He strolled over and opened the door, and Hannah disappeared into the hallway. Butch continued to watch until I assumed she turned the corner.

“Want me to handle O’Shea?” Butch asked, turning around.

“No. Leave O’Shea to me. I want to handle that prick personally.”

 

Chapter Nineteen: Danny

Five fucking days.

I hadn’t seen Hannah in five fucking days. I’d tried calling the club several times during the day, but each time she hung up on me. I’d made a bit of progress because now when she answered she’d say she was too busy to talk before she hung up. The last call I’d made she’d said, “Leave me alone, Danny. Stay out of my business.”

Like hell. I debated about going in early just to talk, but if she was avoiding for a reason, I didn’t want to jeopardize her wellbeing. I thought seriously about just going upstairs and demanding some answers, but I couldn’t risk it.

My cock protested each morning, and though the thought crossed my mind that I could have virtually any woman I approached, something about Hannah had me taking care of business myself. I’d stand under the spray of my lukewarm shower, take my cock in my hand, and let the fantasies of that amazing late afternoon fuckfest fill my head with images and my cock with cum. It never took long. After a few tugs, my cock spewed out all my frustration, and cum splattered on the busted tile.

Jesus. I wanted that girl.

My shifts had gone pretty well. After Steve had cast a few speculative glances at me when I returned to my post that evening—which seemed like it had taken place in another time and galaxy now—he had pretty much left me alone to do my job. I watched, I bounced, and I waited. For what I wasn’t quite sure, but something hovered in the air, some sort of anticipatory vibe that made my Spidey senses tingle. A cop has these senses, but a cop under cover feels it bone deep. Something was going to happen—and soon.

Pussy Whipped saw an abundance of low-life scum on a daily basis. In the last week, though, the scum level had taken a marked swing, though I’d yet to figure out if it was up or down. The men coming through the door, strolling through the neon-filled haze and heading into Richie’s office, weren’t the usual enforcers and dealers. These men stunk with an air of hardcore violence. If you wanted a job done—murder, armed robbery, complete and utter mayhem—these were the men you called. Real dicks.

They chatted with Steve like long-lost friends. They ran their hands over the girls with carte blanche, and when I tried to intervene, I was slapped on the wrist by the head bouncer and told to mind my own fucking business. I tried to be helpful by pointing out I was minding my fucking business because the girls were my business, but when Dougie gave me a stare-down, I shrugged and turned a blind eye—at least from the bouncer’s standpoint.

My cop radar was tuned in. I’d checked in with Pops several times, and he verified that my radar was working just fine. Apparently, Stan had tuned into a few idle chats while he took a piss in the back alley. After what Stan called “a mind-blowing orgasm,” one of the muscle-bound bruisers had told Charity that they’d be around and he looked forward to more. When Charity asked why and went in for round two, the goon let it slip he’d been hired for “something big.”

I figured at some point I’d owe that girl another drink—though not for the reason she’d hoped. She must have gotten the hint because she’d moved on. I guess that was because every day I asked her how Hannah was. The word “fine” never reassured me. I wanted to see her for myself. I intended to do that today.

At five minutes till six, I parked my car across from Pussy Whipped. I jumped out and headed to the corner. Before the light could change, Hannah came out the door of club and started up the street. She wore nice dark jeans, and her glossy hair slid easily across the silky blue top she wore. My cock jumped just looking at her.

She got into a green Chevy Malibu, and the car re-entered traffic, going north, the opposite direction.

Fuck.

I ran back to the shit-mobile, started it up, and waited a grueling thirty seconds for traffic to clear. When fate conspired against me, I took a chance. I pulled out into the first large gap and did a U-turn in the street to the sounds of blaring horns and “Fuck you!”

Traffic sucked at six o’clock, but that worked in my favor because the Malibu couldn’t get too far ahead of me. The few times the lights changed, I was able to catch up almost immediately.

“Where the hell is she going?”

We drove for a solid hour, sitting in traffic for most of that time. Finally, the Malibu pulled up in front of a parking lot right outside the Loop on South Wabash. I glanced around. I didn’t think she’d come all this way for the Starbucks. When Hannah got out of the car and started walking, I swung into the lot. It belonged to a grocery store, but I didn’t give a fuck.

A guy pushing carts back into the building gave me the finger when he saw me leaving the area. I gave it right back along with, “Have a nice day.”

Hannah walked past the bank, past a couple of restaurants, and I suddenly had a sickening thought. I stopped dead on the street, ignoring the woman who plowed into my back.

“What if she’s going on a date?”

“Stalker much?” the woman said.

I shook my head and started to say something, but she gave me that hard stare women give when they think they’re looking at a real douche. So instead of being nice, I said, “Fuck off,” and she scurried on her merry way.

My girl finally stopped in front of an innocuous-looking seven-story building with one of those hideous re-paneled fronts, probably done in the sixties when the collective conscience said, “out with the old, in with the new.” The people in the sixties were full of horseshit. Chicago’s history was a living thing, and I was happy to see some barricades. Maybe someone was tearing that front down to let that building breathe.

Hannah smoothed her hair, pulled open the door, and vanished inside.

What to do, what to do.

Cop logic dictated I follow her, but Danny O’Shea wasn’t a cop, and I didn’t think Hannah would be happy being stalked, even if she liked me.

Screw it. I gave her a minute to find an elevator, and then I went inside.

Typical office building. Some attorneys. A couple of dentists. Insurance companies up the ass. I supposed she could have a dentist appointment, but as I perused the building directory, my gaze snapped to something on the fourth floor.

Armor Security.

The tagline attached to the logo said, Armored Security Services—Your Valuables, Our Guarantee.

“Bingo.”

I took the elevator to the fourth floor, planted my carcass against the wall outside of the door, and waited. I might look like a total schmuck when I found out later she had a dentist appointment, but that was a risk I was willing to take.

Chapter Twenty: Hannah

After I stuffed the flash drive into my purse, I headed to the ladies’ room to splash water on my face. Every time I came to this office I got a case of the flop-sweats. The owner never spoke to me, though his eyes said volumes. Now, like I’d done for the past three deliveries, I’d walk down that hot sidewalk and head to Starbucks for a coffee I didn’t want. I’d gag it down, trying to look like a woman relaxing after work but really trying to calm my nerves, and then call for an Uber to take me back to the club.

Such a small assuming thing nestled among the tissues and makeup in my purse, but to me it felt like a cement block pulling me deeper and deeper into dark waters. I knew what it held, and my seemingly insignificant part in whatever my brother had planned with this legitimate thug seemed incredibly significant to me.

No amount of education was worth what these trips did to my sanity. I might not be a criminal, but my involvement brought me closer and closer to that fine line between innocent bystander and conspirator.

I stared at myself in the mirror above the sink, hating the girl who stared back. I’d chewed off all the lipstick while waiting for the man to give me the latest message, and my lips looked raw and ragged. Like my nerves. Like my thought process. Like my life.

“You’re losing it,” I whispered.

I tried shaking out my hands to remove the pinpricks of anxiety. I splashed some more water on my hot cheeks. Finally, I reapplied the lipstick, but nothing could cover the damaged skin.

“Fuck it. Get your coffee, relax, and get home.”

I slung my purse on my shoulder, yanked open the door, and made my way to the office door. Just as I stepped out into the hallway, an arm snaked around my waist and spun me toward the wall. Someone grabbed my hands and lifted them over my head. I tried to cry out, but a mouth slammed over mine, and I would have slumped to the floor if he hadn’t pressed his body against mine to hold me up.

Danny…

He kissed me thoroughly, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, and I reveled in the taste of him again. I’d missed it. I’d miss the smell of him, that cool musky scent that seemed to belong to only him. His tongue touched every corner of my mouth, slid over my teeth, and then he sucked my tongue into his mouth. With each suck of his mouth, my cunt clamped hard on emptiness. His fingers tightened on mine, and his hard cock pressed against my body, so warm, throbbing with the same need I felt.

Finally, he pulled away and put his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

Under his spell, that magnetic pull we seemed to have between us, I simply stared into those dark eyes, feeling his breath on my skin.

And then it hit me.

I tugged my hands free and pushed him away. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? I followed you. The better question is, what are you doing here?”

I pulled my purse tighter against me. “None of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I started down the hall, but he spun me around.

“I don’t excuse you,” he said, holding me in place.

I cast a glance toward the door for Armor Security. “Can we at least get in the elevator please?”

His gaze slid to the door then back to me. “Shall I go in and find out why you were here?”

My heart lurched and ended up somewhere in my throat. I could barely get the word out, but out it finally came after a choked gasp. “No!”

He twined his fingers through mine and led me to the bank of elevators. He hummed a bit as he pressed the button.

We made it to the lobby in blessed silence, but I knew it wouldn’t last. He put his hand around my waist outside and started down the street. I had no choice but to keep walking with him.

“So,” he said conversationally, “we could play a guessing game, but that’s such a waste of time, and I suck at games. Besides, I have to be at work soon. Why don’t you just tell me?”

He’d never let it go. Thoughts flew through my head so fast I couldn’t even latch onto one. Finally, I just blurted out, “I was meeting my boyfriend.”

He stopped dead on the sidewalk. I waited for the questions to start, but he burst out laughing.

“Honey, I’m your boyfriend.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh, I am, and I know you’re not the cheating type. If you’d had a boyfriend when we hooked up for that one afternoon of glorious sexcapades, you’d have dumped him the morning after. Believe me, I can tell a one-man woman once she’s hooked.” He leaned closer and whispered, “And I’ve hooked you.”

“I am not hooked.” My voice had risen, and a man turned from the parking meter and glanced in our direction. He and Danny exchanged a look I couldn’t begin to decipher, but it pissed me off.

“Yes, honey, you are.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead.

I wanted to deck him. “Oh, so you’re that sure of yourself, are you?”

He just smiled and said, “I am. I’m also sure that the best thing to do is tell me what you were doing in that office.”

I clenched my fist around my purse strap and lifted my chin. I caught the way his gaze shifted for just a split second to my purse. He took my hand and started walking again. We made it all the way to a grocery store before he stopped, tugged me to him, and held me loosely around the waist.

“Hannah,” he said lightly, “there are good choices and bad choices in life. This”—he gestured between us with his free hand— “is a good choice. But what you did today was probably a bad one.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept talking.

“I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say that Richie is involved in whatever this is, and I can guarantee you that my aim, even in the dark, is pretty damn good. This is bad, Hannah. You need to back away.”

“I can’t,” I whispered, though I couldn’t meet his gaze.

He drew in a deep breath and hugged me. “Then I’ll help you.” He lifted his chin toward the parking lot. “Come on. My car’s here. I’ll give you a lift and let you out a couple of blocks from the club.”

Being with Danny had both calmed my nerves and rattled my thoughts. He was good for me. I knew that. I just hoped when this was over—whatever it was—he looked at me the same way.

Chapter Twenty-one: Danny

Around eleven that night, Archie Dee, as squirrelly as ever, bounced into the club, glanced around, and came right in my direction at the edge of the stage. He shouted to be heard over the blaring speakers.

“Hey, Danny, how’s it hangin’?”

“Good, Arch, you?”

“Ain’t complainin’.” He rocked on his feet. “Saw you with Hannah today.”

I shifted my glance from the dancer on stage to him, my antenna up. “Oh, and where was that?”

“Uptown a bit.”

Jesus.

He leaned forward, preparing to whisper but then realized he still needed to shout. “Not a smart move, Danny. She’s off-limits.”

“She’s an adult, Arch. Don’t see where what she does is anyone’s business but her own.”

Archie laughed. “Sure, sure, Danny, you just keep on believin’ that.”

He gave Brittany a little wave and headed across the room. Something snagged his attention, and he paused at the doorway. His glance shifted between a man in the corner and me, and I got a bad feeling. The man was Stan. Archie was talking to him. Fuck.

I mouthed, “Piss break,” to Dougie and strolled toward the restrooms. My heart beat louder than the drum through the speakers.

Archie and Stan were chatting it out like old buds. Archie. turned to me when I approached. “Hey, Danny, come here. Small world, right? You guys know each other?”

I gave Stan a cursory glance, and Stan did the same.

“Don’t think so,” I said. Stan shook his head.

“Well, if this ain’t fuckin’ funny,” Archie said.

“What’s funny?” I asked, dreading the answer, though also curious about how Archie viewed the world.

“’Because he was in the pool hall the night of the fight. You were there. I was there. And now look,”—he spread his arms— “here we are in another fucking place, together like old pals.”

“I see a lot of fights,” Stan said. “Which pool hall was that?” He put a little slur into his words, but I knew Stan. He could drink a gallon of liquor and hold his shit together. It was the reason he was hired for assignments like this.

“Rack ’Em Up,” Archie said. “Don’t you remember? My pal Danny here drove Otto’s head into the jukebox like a bowling ball.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. He knew I’d stuck around too long too. “Sure. I remember. Been there lots of times. Not a fan of Otto’s. He got what he deserved.”

“We’re all in agreement with that?” Archie said with a stupid grin. “But, hey, guess we all have the same interests.” Once again, I waited with dread for words to tumble from his mouth. He smiled brightly. “Pool and pussy, right?”

“Sure,” Stan said with a nod. “Pool and pussy.” He lifted his glass. “And drinking. Want one?”

Archie lifted his good hand in a pass gesture. “Can’t. Got a big meeting.” He glanced at the glass of Crown Royal in Stan’s hand. “After, though, sure. That’d be great.”

I waited until Archie went through the door into the hallway. I spared one glance toward Stan, who had turned his attention back to Brittany as the song ended.

I walked into the john to the tune of Livin’ on a Prayer.

I usually didn’t believe in destiny, in fate, in any luck I didn’t create for myself. Life was a series of events, and I usually felt in control, even under cover. Archie was a wild card. Would he view this as a chance coincidence, or did he actually have enough brainpower to add a few numbers and get the right result?

I got my answer when Dougie’s two-way squawked around midnight. He told me to head to Richie’s office.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When I stepped over the threshold, I felt as though I’d been dropped into a remake of The Usual Suspects. The gang was all here.

Butch, the one-trick pony, was performing his usual stunt of holding up the wall. The four bruisers I’d encountered throughout the last few days sprawled on the sofa and chairs, and Richie held court from behind that massive mahogany desk, the king of all he surveyed. Archie Dee darted around the room, passing out bottles of beer like we were all friends having a barbecue.

My eyes caught Richie’s. Unlike Archie, Richie didn’t wear his enthusiasm on his sleeve. Those dark eyes just peered into mine like he was trying to read my deepest thoughts. I practically felt him prodding through my recent memories—hooking up with Archie at the pool hall, my afternoon with Hannah, my phone calls with my father, the office on South Wabash, and finally talking with Stan tonight.

As I took a beer from Archie’s hand, he flashed me a smile. “I was telling Richie about Rack ’Em Up.” Archie shook his head. “What a coincidence, huh?”

My throat dried up. I drained half the bottle in a gulp. Jesus fucking Christ.

“I also told him how nice it was you offered Hannah a ride today. You know, because you saw her uptown and all.”

What a fucking nightmare. I drained the rest of the bottle.

“Sit, O’Shea,” Richie barked. “I want you in on this.” He paused and gave me a hard glance. “If you think you’re man enough for a challenge.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.” I found the only empty seat and sat.

Richie sat forward in his seat. “I have a few things to go over before tomorrow.”

 

Chapter Twenty-two: Hannah

Despite what Richie had told me, I knew he would never keep his word. He would use any infraction to raid my possessions again. My courier services wouldn’t matter at all. It was just a way to control me, to make me cautious about any move I made and to hold any information I heard to myself. Who exactly did he think I would tell about his business? It wasn’t like I ran in circles where illegal activities were frowned upon. I didn’t even have a circle, and that admission made something die inside of me.

I longed to go downstairs and talk to Danny. His offer of help this afternoon had touched my heart, even though I knew they were only words. He could do nothing to help me—not with my life, my finances, or with Richie’s dominance. I’d been trapped the moment my father’s will had been read. Everything to Richie, nothing to me.

My future rested in my hands alone—and I’d finally figured that out.

I sat at my desk and stared at my collection of flash drives. Courses I’d already completed in business, hospitality, human resources, marketing, and my half-finished course in accounting. My future rested in these pieces of plastic. Yes, I knew the lessons by heart, but these drives were tangible proof of the progress I’d made toward someday owning my own restaurant. Not a strip club or a fancy five-star place. I wanted a tavern or a neighborhood bar and grill, something friendly and fun, filled with nice people who cared about other nice people. Lately I’d been toying with the idea of an Irish pub, but that was probably Danny’s influence. O’Shea’s Pub had a nice ring to it, but there were those dreams again coming up to bite me in the ass.

Still, these little pieces of plastic were my talismans, symbols of my hopes for the future. I hated that Richie had even touched them. They’d become insignificant to me now, tainted somehow, but I would keep them because they offered a bit of camouflage for what really mattered now.

I swept them up and put them all into my purse, along with another one. Richie could never be trusted, but he was often impulsive. He’d forced me into playing a part in his latest endeavor so he could gain back control of my life, but I never blindly walked into anything. Richie thought he saw everything, but when it came to me, he wore blinders. I was just Hannah, his day-shift manager, a woman like so many others in the neighborhood, to be used, abused, ignored, or forgotten.

He was wrong about me.

I knew what he planned, and I knew who was involved. I’d read all the messages. I’d kept copies of all of them, both for myself, as well as passing the information on to someone I thought I could trust. No matter how things went down, I had proof of this conspiracy in case I needed leverage for something in the future.

Richie continually underestimated me. For a smart man, he really wasn’t all that bright when it came to me.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Danny

As I hit the sidewalk in front of the club, I glanced up at the windows of Hannah’s apartment. A dim light shone through the window shade. Four thirty in the morning and she was awake. Part of me wanted to go back inside and up those stairs. The other part said I had work to do and couldn’t allow distractions.

Work had always won out when in conflict with personal. Shit, if I were honest, I had no real personal, at least none I hadn’t grown up with. This level of personal, of truly caring for someone who wasn’t a Dutton, was a new thing for me. I began to wonder how any cop balanced work with a happy, normal life. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe that was why so many cops were divorced.

I waited until I was back in my stifling hellhole to make the call. The really hot temps had finally broken, but my apartment hadn’t gotten the weather report. It must have been a thousand degrees in there. I grabbed a bottle of tepid water out of the fridge and drank half of it before I sat on the ratty couch and dialed the number, the one that would signal the go.

“Domino’s Pizza,” the familiar voice said. “May I take your order?”

“Armored car hit,” I said. “Tomorrow, one o’clock.”

The line was silent for a second. “Money? Bearer bonds?”

“No, that’s the odd part. Our friend is branching out and breaking into jewel heists.” We never used Richie Silvestri’s name on cellphones. He was always “our friend”.

“Lots of value there. Could be hard to fence though. Our friend is one of the few criminal elements in the city without ties to import-export.”

“Maybe this is his way in. He likes his fingers in all sorts of pots. Great diversifier.”

“Still, though, he doesn’t have those contacts yet.”

“I got the vibe he was the logistics and the distribution was someone else’s problem. He is probably in on the action for a hefty cut, to get his name out there and cash in later. He’s a young guy. Plenty of time to get in the game.”

“So, what’s the target?”

“The Field Museum’s been showcasing unique diamonds and jewelry, and part of the collection is on loan. The exhibit ended last weekend. All of the local items are being returned to their owners.”

“Are we lucky enough to have that list?”

“No. But I expect you can get it from the museum.”

“Have any idea how many homes are involved, what neighborhoods?”

“No, though I’m pretty sure none of them are mine.”

My commander chuckled. “I’ll get the list.” I heard the click of a lighter over the line then a heavy breath as he exhaled. “Tell me you have the company name.”

“Our friend is being stingy with the actual details until it’s time to get into the van, but I have a guess.”

I filled my commander in on how I’d followed our friend’s sister to Armor Security. I only had to listen to several minutes about letting pussy distract me from my assignment, and I took it with grace. I knew I’d fucked up, but I also knew my fuck-up had led to some pretty good intel.

“I’ll get eyes on them as of right now,” he said. There was a pause, and I waited, knowing what was coming. “This girl part of it?”

“If you want to know if he used her, then yes. If you want to know if she was doing something illegal, then I don’t know the answer to that. A messenger doesn’t always know the message, but she looked pretty spooked. I think, though, I can guarantee she’s not directly involved and will play no other parts in the heist.”

“Are you requesting immunity for her?”

I sighed. “Not exactly. Not yet. Fuck, I don’t know. I’m just bringing it up for discussion.” I didn’t know the extent of Hannah’s involvement. Not really. “I guess I’m saying if she’s an innocent pawn being coerced, then yes.”

“There are a lot of ifs in your thought process.”

“WE don’t really discuss our friend’s business dealings.”

“I imagine not,” he murmured.

“But if things work in our favor, I might be able to convince her to testify.”

“How much do you think she knows?”

Jesus. How much did Hannah know?

Good question. I had no fucking idea. I suspected she knew more than Richie thought she did, but probably not enough to bring him down. If, however, we brought him down, any details Hannah had would just nail that fucking coffin shut.

“I can’t answer that for sure,” I said, “but I suspect as much as any one person knows with the exception of our friend’s right hand man.”

“Is he part of this plan?”

“Yes, because—”

I snapped my mouth shut. My blood started to boil. Here was that personal bullshit rising up. Damn. I drank the rest of the water in gulps.

“Because why?”

“I’m pretty sure our friend is offering up his little sister as incentive to his right hand, probably on a fucking silver platter.”

“She happy about that?”

“Of course not.”

“Should I guess how you feel about it?”

“Please don’t.”

“This is dangerous territory, you know that. You’ve seen it happen before. Cop falls for girl. Girl’s bad. Cop takes a fall—and that’s the lucky outcome. Sometimes he falls so hard he doesn’t get back up. My advice—don’t go there. It’s a been-there-done-that scenario you can’t win.”

“I’m already wearing the T-shirt, boss,” I muttered.

“Then you need to rip that fucker off,” he said forcefully. “I’ll have teams in place tomorrow. How many players involved in this?”

“Five including me.”

“Hopefully there won’t be more than a couple of drop-off locations and I can stack the deck in our favor at each scene. Our eyes on the armored car will be in contact with all teams in the event they detour. Think there’s a chance of that?”

I thought about it, trying to think like Richie. I thought he’d want as few witnesses as possible, as few potential problems as possible. He wanted this to be a slam-dunk. He’d want his first foray into the world of luxury commodities to be a rousing success. Richie Silvestri, the man who can get things done.

“I don’t think he’ll detour. I think the heist will be arranged for a neighborhood, possibly at a community gate or a private one.”

“I agree. Have any questions for me?”

“No, sir.”

“Then enjoy your pizza and thanks for calling Dominos.”

The line went dead. I had one more call to make before calling it a day, and Pops knew immediately why I was calling.

“Is the shit about to hit the fan?” he asked.

“Yeah, Pops. Just wanted to let you know because in a few minutes, this phone will be permanently dead.”

My dad hesitated for a minute. He always got quiet right before I made a bust. I couldn’t really imagine what went through his head, and he never told me, but my guess was his thoughts were never all that good.

“When we talk next, it will be over Sunday dinner,” he said, trying, and failing, to sound cheerful. “You’ve got this, Danny. Just be careful.”

“Always, Pops.”

“Night, kid. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He clicked off first. I always let him do that.

I pulled the SIM card from the phone, tore it in half, and flushed it down the toilet. I stomped on the phone with my boot and tossed the pieces in the trash.

Then I sat down and tried to think of everything that could possibly go wrong tomorrow.

This was always the loneliest moment in any assignment.

It was going to be a very long night.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Hannah

The four goons had all come in a few minutes before and headed to Richie’s office. Butch had gotten off the stool and lumbered to the back as well.

I continued to do my job, fixing drinks, running food for the girls, and chatting with my customers, but my mind was unfocused. I did all of my tasks by rote. I knew this was the day, and I was well aware that, by the end of the day, things would be changing around here—one way or another.

Just when I’d tried to put everything out of my mind, Danny sauntered into the club, his smile bright. He looked so good that my mouth watered, his dark hair shining, the white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, hugging his wide chest. I ached to run my hands over his firm muscles and tight abs. I ached even more to slip my hand into his pants and wrap my fingers around his cock. I wanted to grind against him, rub my clit over the hard bulge, and find some release from the tension coiled in my body.

He stopped for a minute to talk to Jonell and then gave a wave to Tiffany as she shimmied on the stage. After that, his gaze locked on mine, and he strolled to the bar. I met him at the pass-through. The cacophony of the music and conversations seemed to die away, and a peace slipped over me.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he said.

“Hey yourself, but I’m not your girlfriend.” I couldn’t help smiling. I was happy to see him, but still, his appearance bothered me. I knew Richie wouldn’t like him being here at this time of the day, for being so bold and making a move in public like this.

He snagged my hand and twined our fingers together. I tried to pull away, but he kept a tight hold. “How about a real date?”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why? Because Richie wouldn’t like it?”

“You know he wouldn’t,” I said softly.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what Richie wants,” he said lightly. “What do you want?”

That was a question I’d asked myself so many times. I’d never had an answer until lately. Now I knew I wanted a real career—one I’d carved for myself—a happy, safe life, and a man who could share all that with me.

I wanted Danny to be that man.

He lifted my hand and kissed it the way he had at our first meeting. Once again, fire flashed through my veins, hot enough to melt all my resolve.

“I’d like to go on a date.”

One of the guys at the bar said, “Lucky bastard.”

“Good. I’ll take you to the Navy Pier. Are you a Jimmy Buffett fan, Miss Hannah?”

I laughed as “Rock You Like a Hurricane” thumped in the background. “I think liking Jimmy Buffett is against company policy.”

“We could go to Margaritaville. Have a cheeseburger in paradise.” He wiggled his brows. “Then we’ll come back here and find our own paradise.”

“And you’ll rock me like a hurricane?” I blushed and gave him a smile, suddenly feeling shy. This was new territory for me. I hadn’t had a real date in a long time.

“A hurricane, a typhoon, a tornado, and any other weather phenomenon you can conjure in your wildest fantasies.”

“It sounds fun.” This was what I wanted. This might be the beginning of my future.

The door to the hallway slammed open, and Butch filled the space. His stare moved from Danny to me. He frowned, his brows drawing down so far they cast shadows across his eyes.

“Stop dicking around, O’Shea,” he said. “Get your ass back here.”

“Fuck off,” Danny said, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Butch disappeared, and everything in my body seemed to liquefy. I had to hold myself up on the pass-through. I slowly brought my gaze back to Danny. His smile had vanished, those dark eyes filled with a bit of shame.

“Oh, no, Danny…” I gripped his hand. “Don’t do this.”

“I’ll be okay.” He squeezed my fingers. “You just pick out a pretty dress and think about sunshine and soft breezes and tropical drinks. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He leaned over the pass-through, grabbed my shoulders, and practically yanked me off my feet. His mouth covered mine in a hard, brutal kiss that caused images of soldiers going off to war to flicker through my head. When I dropped back to the floor, my head reeling, he gave me a smile, and then he, too, disappeared through the hallway.

I grabbed a bottle of vodka, splashed several inches into a glass, and downed it in one swallow.

“Hey, Hannah,” Charity called from a table. “I need another bucket of Bud.”

I got back to work.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Danny

When the vehicle pulled in the alleyway behind the club, I managed to school my features, but the impact of this hit me like a sledgehammer.

“Jesus, boss, how’d you pull this off?” Butch asked.

Richie walked around the armored car, checking out the reinforced cab and shell and the bulletproof windows. The logo of Armor Security blazed in red across the back panel of the white truck.

“Friends in high places, Butch,” Richie said.

The four professionals stood silently, but I could see they were impressed. Hell, I was impressed, but this was not going to go down the way I’d anticipated. I hoped the commander would think fast on his feet.

“I thought we were hitting an armored car, not riding in one,” I said.

Richie tapped his forehead like he’d figured out the secrets to the universe. “What better way to get the upper hand?”

The driver of the vehicle, dressed in a pair of dark pants and a jacket, got out. He stripped off the jacket, threw his cap into the truck cab, and tossed the keys to Richie. He pulled out a hoodie and shrugged into it. “Uniforms in back. I’m out of here.” He strode down the alley.

Richie turned to the group.

“The pickup is happening right now. I’ve been in contact with my partner, and they’re scheduled to leave the Field Museum within the hour. The armored car is making a drop-off on the Gold Coast then heading to Burling Street and Orchard Street, both in Lincoln Park.”

“Where’s the hit?” I asked.

“Sure as shit not the Gold Coast,” Butch muttered.

“No,” Richie said, “not the Gold Coast. We’re willing to forego that small parcel for a bit more…privacy. This works best without a lot of witnesses, and this time of day a lot of houses in Lincoln Park will be empty while all those yuppies are downtown in their offices. But since the dipshits are so eco-friendly”—said with the biggest sneer I’d seen on his face— “the street could still be packed with cars.”

“Could be a problem,” one of the other men said.

“You just make sure it isn’t,” Richie said with a glare. “You’ll hit them on Burling Street.”

“Which fuckin’ part?” another man asked. “That street is more chopped up than ground beef.”

“Jesus Christ,” Richie muttered and rattled off the address. “It’s in the section between Armitage and Willow.”

“Got it,” the guy said and then tilted his big head. “That’s one-way.”

Richie sighed. “Yes, it’s one-way, but you’ll only be going one way.”

“Only one way out,” Butch said.

“Do it right, and it won’t be a problem,” Richie snarled. “The house is on the right—if you’re going the right way.” He gave the man with the questions a pointed look. “They have a gated drive. You’ll wait in the parking lot on Armitage until you see the armored car turn onto Burling. Then you’ll go down Burling and do the job. Butch knows the plan, and you’ll follow his lead. Just make sure you get off that fucking street fast. Turn on Willow and get the fuck out.”

“There’s a school on that street,” I said.

Richie sneered and gave me a look. “Then I guess you better be sure the job’s done before school lets out.”

He gave Butch a radio and then tossed me the keys. “You’re driving, O’Shea. Watch out for the kids.” The smile that flashed over his face made me want to plough my fist into his face, but that could wait.

Driving was the first good news I’d heard. Then came the bad.

Richie passed out weapons, and everyone got one but me.

* * * *

We sat on Armitage, dressed in our uniforms for Armor Security. The guy driving the delivery transport must have been legally blind because he drove right by us. Red flags went up. The vehicle turned down Burling, and I followed slowly past some nice homes. It was a great neighborhood, but I’d known it would be with millions of dollars in jewels on the line here.

About half a block down, the truck signaled and pulled into the driveway in front of the gate to an imposing white brick mansion with large mullioned windows and a tree-lined courtyard. Turn of the century. Pretty as shit.

“Stop here,” Butch said. “If things go the way they’re supposed to, you take this truck back to Armor Security.” He rattled off the address, but of course I already knew it. “If things go south, I don’t give a fuck what you do. Just get the hell out and disappear for a while. Do not come back to the club.”

Butch dropped from the cab and walked toward the other armored car. The men in the back of my rig pushed open the rear doors and exited. They all followed Butch.

Then the unheard of happened. The driver of the other armored car got out of the transport and met Butch. So many red flags went up I couldn’t even count them. An armored car driver never got out of his vehicle.

The two men exchanged a few words, and the driver moved toward the side door. He lifted a radio and spoke to the man behind the armor—the one who would have a gun trained on anyone who approached.

I leaned across the seat. “Fuck.”

“Change of plans,” the driver said. I strained to hear the conversation as the man spoke into the radio, but with the dense bulletproof glass, it was hard to hear. I tried to rely on a bit of lip-reading, but couldn’t catch all of it. “High-security transport—the other side of the city—unscheduled delivery—switch trucks.”

I read between the lines. The driver had been ordered to switch trucks with us. I wondered how much the man behind Armor Security would pay one of this employees for that. The other men in the truck would never have taken a job with a new driver without a serious damn reason, so this man was one of the regular crew.

A garbled word squawked over the radio, but I figured it out.

“I don’t ask why, Jackson.” The driver’s voice got louder. “Lower the weapon. I’m opening the door.”

“Like fuck you are,” Jackson said, plain as day.

While the two argued through the tiny glass slot, the driveway gate began to swing open. Men poured out of the house, taking up stations around the courtyard. Several moved down the driveway toward the gate.

“Jesus jumping Christ,” Butch mouthed. He lifted his radio as he ducked behind the first armored car.

The driver of the delivery transport dropped his radio and took off running.

“Chicago P.D.,” someone shouted.

When the driver failed to stop, the cop shot his leg out from under him, and he fell to the sidewalk. He rolled over and wrapped his hand around his calf to staunch the bleeding, but blood poured through his fingers and that shattered bone protruding from the wound didn’t look too good. He’d better hope this ended quickly and he got to a hospital.

“Weapons down,” a cop shouted.

“Like fuck,” screamed one of Richie’s men, and he opened fire, spraying the courtyard with a hail of bullets.

Bark chips flew from trees, and leaves shredded and flurried around like green snowflakes. Chunks of concrete exploded from the gate columns, whizzing through the air to pepper everything in sight.

Instinctively I reached for my weapon, but then I remembered I had none. I was in the safest possible spot, so I watched as Butch yelled into his radio, trying to hear anything he said, and then a body falling caught my attention. Two down, four to go. The remaining professionals were all bent double, backing away, guns swinging left and right, toward my truck. A swarm of cops, dressed in SWAT gear, followed. One of Richie’s men jerked backward as a bullet caught him in the chest, and he collapsed in a heap.

One of the goons pounded on the passenger window. I gave him the finger, and he growled through his teeth and ducked behind a parked car.

An officer trained his gun on my vehicle.

A voice rose over the noise of ricocheting shots, shouting, and bullets clipping cars and shattering windows.

“Driver is Daniel Dutton, one of ours.” I recognized the voice, even in the chaos.

My commander had taken stock of the scene and realized I was, logically, the person in the driver’s seat. He moved fast as lightning through the gate as several other cops covered his ass. A shot rang out, but my commander was a tough bastard. He crouched, sprang back up, and rounded the truck, his gun trained on Butch.

“Weapon down.”

Butch lowered his weapon and placed it on the ground, not willing to die for Richie. My commander waved his free hand, and I took that as a sign. He knew where I wanted to be.

The sound of sirens wailed through the neighborhood, and I knew, in a few moments, the street would be blocked. Butch managed to yell a few more words into his radio before a cop ripped it from his hand and pushed him to the ground. The two men still on their feet must have realized they’d reached an impasse. Without access to either vehicle, and the wail of sirens coming from down the block—cops didn’t care about one-way signs—they ran back toward Armitage Street, where, I hoped, another team of cops waited. If not, I’d remember their ugly mugs.

I didn’t wait around. I drove as fast as I dared down the residential drive toward Willow Street. I needed to get back to the South Side, where Richie was—where Hannah was.

Richie was not going to be happy to see me, but the amount I cared about that would fit in his pencil cock with plenty of room left over. I just hoped I wasn’t bringing a knife to a gunfight.

 

Chapter Twenty-Six: Hannah

The door to the hallway opened with a bang, and Richie barreled through it like a raging bull. He flung up the pass-through, stormed behind the bar, and grabbed my arm so tightly I winced and tried to pull away, but he held on like a pit bull.

“What the hell, Richie?” Hank asked, rising from his stool.

Richie gave him a look that would have cowered most men, but Hank moved toward us. Several of the other men looked concerned, but none of them would dare intervene in any of Richie’s activities, even if they involved me. Their welcome in this place was the only thing that got them through the day.

“Sit the fuck down, Hank, or I’ll knock you down,” Richie growled.

I held up my hand, and Hank sat reluctantly.

“What’s wrong?” My mind raced with all sorts of possibilities. Surely the armored car hadn’t been intercepted? Something bad had happened, but still, I had no idea why Richie would think to take it out on me when Butch had been the one to fail him.

The image of Danny flashed in my mind. Had Danny fucked up? Was Richie going to blame me?

“Shut up. You’re coming with me.”

“Richie.” My face snapped toward the deep voice. “You need to leave her alone.”

“It’s okay, Jonell,” I said, trying desperately to keep Richie from harming anyone.

“No, Hannah, it’s not okay.” Jonell started to move closer, and before anyone could move or help or stop him, Richie pulled a gun from his waistband and shot Jonell in the head.

The man dropped to the floor, and the music died. Tiffany slowly slid to the bottom of the pole and burst into tears. Tears flowed from my eyes too.

Richie waved the gun. “Everyone get the fuck out of here before I use all these bullets and reload.”

Chairs squealed along the floor and fell as people lurched from tables. Several men grabbed the dancers and half carried them to the door. Others knocked against tables as they ran, and Spinner vaulted over his booth and bolted for the door.

In the moment of quiet after the chaos, Richie turned to me and quietly said, “Get your goddamned keys.” He pointed the gun at me.

I grabbed my purse, and he dragged me through the pass-through, and though I dug in my heels, he managed to get me through the door and to the stairwell.

“Up,” he ordered.

I shook my head.

He pushed me, and I staggered, falling to my knees on the bottom steps. Pain radiated through my legs, firing all the nerve endings in sizzling agony. More tears rose in my eyes, and he pushed me again.

“I said up, you fucking bitch.”

I crawled up a few steps and then managed to get to my feet and make it the rest of the way. I gritted my teeth against the pain, and knowing I had no other choice, I rooted in my purse for the keys to my apartment. My fingers encountered the flash drives, and all of a sudden, I knew. He thought I’d sold him out.

“Richie, can’t—”

He shoved me against the door, and my shoulder flared in hot pain. “Shut your mouth.”

He ripped the keys from my hand and, fumbling a bit as he got the right keys, shoved them into each lock. When he slammed the door open, he kicked me, and I went flying into the apartment, crashing onto the coffee table face first. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and for a moment, I saw black. I groaned and rolled off the table to sprawl on the floor.

Richie slammed the door and stared down at me, a sadist about to unleash on an unsuspecting victim. How had I never seen this part of Richie directed at me? Only a man who had cruel thoughts, who felt all others beneath him, treated a person like this. I’d thought perhaps I might be the one person in his life he had some emotion for, but now I realized all of those emotions were as cold and vile as the rest of him.

He lifted his foot and jammed it toward me. My eyes snapped closed as I prayed, but nothing happened. Nothing touched me. His laughter filled my ears.

“It’s not going to be that easy, bitch. Get up.”

I pushed myself to my elbows and managed to get to my feet.

He leaned close to me and quietly said, “You’re going to tell me what went wrong.”

My lip hurt, and I touched it to find my fingers smeared with blood. I reached for the Kleenex box on the table, but he grabbed my wrist and squeezed. My bones crunched beneath his fingers.

“What did you do?” he snarled. He gave a little twist, and I cried out, my knees buckling as more pain flooded my body.

“I don’t know, Richie,” I said, gasping. “I didn’t do anything.”

He shook my arm, and I flinched. “Goddamn it, O’Shea is a fucking cop! And you knew that, didn’t you? Did you give him the details? Did you read those messages? I’m going to kill you so slowly you’ll see your heart still beating when it’s ripped into pieces.”

“I didn’t know, Richie,” I said again. They were the only words I could remember. Danny had never told me he was a cop. I felt betrayed, alone, left to face the hard truth that he used me to get closer to Richie. Everything had been a lie. I had no one and nothing.

Richie shoved me onto the floor and loomed above me. He grabbed a lamp from the end table, and the cord whipped across my face in a painful slash. He screamed and hurled it at the wall. Ceramic pieces exploded, raining down on me.

I lay there and waited to die.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Danny

I slammed on the brakes and jumped from the armored car, leaving it in the middle of the street. The outside of the club was utter pandemonium. People poured from the open doors, which revealed a dark, quiet interior. Tiffany and another dancer were huddled near the sidewalk. Tiffany was in tears, and the other woman was doing her best to comfort her. Hank stood in a cluster of men, all of them pale and shell-shocked. A couple of bouncers were trying to keep people away from the club.

I didn’t have time to even ask questions. I headed for the door.

Charity jumped in front of me. “Stay out of there, Danny. It’s bad. We’ve already called the police.”

At that moment, it became clear the police had already been there. Several detectives scrambled from cars down the street and pushed through the throngs of people starting to gather on the corner. I would make them pay if anything happened to Hannah. Dumb shits. How long had they planned to just sit there before approaching Richie Silvestri?

“My girl’s in there.” I moved Charity aside gently, only because I didn’t want to hurt her. Charity’s face became hard, and when she started to speak, I yelled at her, “I’m a fucking cop! Get the fuck out of my way!”

She gripped my arm. “Danny, wait! Do you have a gun?”

My hand instinctively went to my side where my gun would normally be holstered. I didn’t have my gun. It wasn’t part of my disguise. “No, fuck, but that’s okay, I don’t need a gun to take down this prick.”

She looked as if she struggled with a decision, and then she reached behind her back and pulled a snubnosed Smith and Wesson .38. She pressed it into my hand. I gazed at it in shock.

“I’m DEA,” Charity said. “I know what’s going down, but my orders were to bide my time, wait for backup, and do not confront him, no matter what. They’re shit orders, but that’s the way it is. So”—she shoved me—“if you’re going, do it now before he hurts her.”

When I managed to get through the sea of people and inside, I took stock quickly. No customers. Hannah was not behind the bar. The speakers spit out nothing but soft static. Everything was quiet, dark, eerie, and in front of the bar lay Jonell, a small puddle of blood pooling around his head.

I knew he was dead. Still, I hunkered down and felt for a pulse.

“Fuck, Jonell, I’m sorry.”

A crash sounded from upstairs. I sprinted through the club and took the stairs three at a time. I pulled back my leg, my bad knee screaming in protest, and kicked the door, blasting it inward.

Hannah lay crumpled on the floor. I could do nothing but hope she was okay because Richie whirled around, and before I knew what hit me, a bullet ripped into my chest.

I staggered back and fell against the open door. A black veil tried to come down over my eyes, but that wasn’t happening today. Today I had to save my girl, and if killing this piece of shit happened in the process, so be it.

I tried to pull a painful breath into my lungs. Damn it hurt.

“Get away from her, you cocksucker,” I growled the words over a painful breath. I pulled the trigger and had a moment to see the bullet hit Richie in the center of the forehead before the floor slammed up to claim me.

* * * *

I blinked, trying to figure out where I was. Everything was hazy and white, but I knew I wasn’t in heaven. Sure, I was an okay guy, but I’m not sure I was good enough for heaven, even though I thought my mother would use bribery to get me in. A moan escaped me.

“He’s awake,” someone said.

I managed to lift my hand and found something gauzy wrapped around my eyes. Slowly it began to unravel, and I blinked again to find a solid, somewhat blurry nurse smiling down at me.

“You smashed that pretty face into the floor and split your forehead nearly in half. This was just a precaution.”

“How are you feeling?” The question came from my commander, who rose from a chair and stood above me.

“Like I’ve been run over by a steam roller.”

“A bullet to the chest will do that,” he said.

I glanced around to take stock. An IV hung from a bag and dripped liquid into my arm. I assumed it had pain medication, too, because I felt okay. Nothing really hurt, though I felt stiff. The heart monitor beeped away cheerily, as though just reminding people I was alive in case they wondered.

“The bullet hit your lung, which is just a shade better than your heart. You’ve had surgery, of course, and you’ve been pretty much out of it for three days.”

“Silvestri?” I whispered, my voice barely a croak. I knew I’d hit him but still had to make sure. “Is he dead?”

“As a doornail.” The commander moved closer to peer down at me from the side of the bed. “Your girl’s been by to see you.”

“My girl?”

“Hannah Silvestri.”

I blinked at him and tried to swallow. “She’s okay?”

“She’s more than okay. She’s a freaking gem. She gave us all the details for the heist, down to the name of the co-conspirators. She had made copies of everything on the flash drives that Richie had her deliver. She’s also willing to testify against everybody involved and supply any other information we need down the road.”

“And Butch Collette?”

“Collette wanted to make a deal, but with Hannah testifying, his value went downhill fast. He’s going to be doing some serious time.”

“I’m the last one to defend Collette, but at least he didn’t shoot at anyone.”

“That might take five years off the considerable sentence he’ll get, but if he cooperates, he’ll make out better than the others.”

“How about Archie Devereaux?”

“Hannah doesn’t seem to think he’s involved in anything too deep. It’s up to the DA. She said she’d hire a good attorney for him if it comes to it. I think she feels like she owes him for bringing you to the club.”

That statement made me smile internally, but I didn’t need to get into it with my boss. “How can she afford an attorney?”

“She inherits Richie’s clean assets. Money. Businesses, real estate, stocks, bonds, the works.”

“Jesus Christ. She gets all Richie’s assets? How… ironic…So where is she?”

“Right in the hallway.” He strolled to the door and opened it, sticking his head out. He said a few quiet words and then turned back to me. “I’ll make sure the two of you aren’t disturbed.”

I nodded, and before I could prepare myself, there she was.

Her lip was swollen and looked tender, and the bruise on her forehead was a rainbow of blues and purples. A jagged red scrape sliced across her cheek. She had a splint on her wrist, and had the prick still been alive, I would have killed him with less kindness for what he’d done to his sister. Hannah looked as though she’d been through a battle, and yet she’d never looked more beautiful to me.

The dark hair caught the last of the day’s sunshine slanting through the window, glistening in a glossy braid over her shoulder. She wore a yellow dress, and her long, lean legs went on forever. She reminded me of sunshine and soft breezes and tropical drinks. She seemed thinner, not quite as powerful as she’d always looked at the club, and I remembered, despite Richie’s cruelty and abuse, he had been her brother and he was dead. Death caught us off guard so easily.

“First, I want to say thank you,” she said. “For saving me… and for stopping him.”

I nodded, and she came closer. “And second?”

“You lied to me, Danny.” Her words were quiet, solemn. “I wondered after everything happened whether your name was even Danny, but your commander told me it is.”

“Daniel Dutton.” I held out my hand, and she looked at it curiously. “Nice to meet you, Hannah Silvestri. Can we start over?”

I waited, hoping she would let us start over.

“I don’t want to start over,” Hannah said.

My breath stuttered in my chest. Well, Daniel Dutton, you can’t have everything.

She leaned over the bed, put her good hand on my shoulder, and kissed me. “I want to pick up where we left off. You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?”

I nodded, too shell-shocked to get any words out.

“You owe me a trip to the Navy Pier.” She glanced at the closed door and then carefully straddled my body, her soft body settling over mine—just like heaven. “And you said you’d show me paradise.”

“That, my dear, is a promise I intend to keep. Go and lock the door.”

Epilogue: Hannah

Danny was released a week later from the hospital, expected to make a full recovery. He’d need a few more weeks of taking things easy, then he could slowly ease back into work, though his undercover days were probably over since he was at the center of one of the largest criminal busts in the history of the city involving not just the Chicago PD, but the DEA, the ATF, and half a dozen other agencies who had been after my brother for years.

Archie picked Danny up at the hospital for me and ferried him to Ritchie’s—I mean—to my house in the suburbs just outside of town. Archie helped me get Danny situated in the master bedroom, then I told him to take a hike. I could handle things from here. Archie, who had turned into my personal assistant of sorts, just smiled and told me to take it easy on the guy.

“Oh, I will,” I said, shoving him out the door. “Don’t you worry.”

* * * *

It felt so good just knowing he was home.

My knight in shining armor.

My savior.

My man.

The moment Archie was gone I stripped off my clothes and ran to the bedroom. My pussy was so wet the juices ran down the insides of my legs as I moved. Danny was sitting up in bed, smiling, waiting, naked, stroking his already rock-hard cock.

“Is that for me?” I asked, climbing on top of him, pressing my lips to his. His mouth was hot and wet.

“For you and you alone,” he said, gripping his cock and sliding it along my pussy, spreading precum over my lips and rubbing circles over my clit. My pussy ached for him, clenching and spasming and sending ripples of anticipation through my body. When he held his long, thick cock upright, I lowered my body and slid my cunt over his cock, impaling myself until I sat on his pelvis and his cock was buried deep in me, touching every inch, so snug I could feel the veins pulsing against my soft flesh.

“Ride me,” he said, his voice tight. “Slowly…”

Gradually I began to move in small increments, up and down, inch by inch, until Danny gritted his teeth and sweat bathed his skin. I sat straight, my hands lightly on his hips, my pelvis rocking and lifting and rolling as I fucked him. He stared into my eyes, his gleaming with both desire and affection, and I felt his emotions roll toward me in waves. Good emotions. Healthy emotions. Emotions that offered hope for happiness and a possible future. No, I didn’t want to start over. I suspected that much of Danny O’Shea resided in Daniel Dutton, and I wanted to know him better.

“God, your pussy feels so good,” he sighed. “I’ve been dying for this moment for a week…” He dug his fingers into my hips and I saw him wince in pain, so I took his hands and told him to be still.

“Let me do the work,” I said. “You just relax and enjoy.”

Slowly, I increased my pace, rocking faster and faster on his cock, lifting and dropping to force him deep into my cunt. My pussy swelled and pulsed, and my clit ached for attention, so I used my fingers to rub it, faster and faster to the movement of my body. The pleasure surrounded me, swamped me, and when my orgasm tore through me, I arched my back and let the waves drown me.

My entire body trembled, and my cunt throbbed, sending pulses of sensation through my pelvis and limbs. Danny gave a soft cry, and then cum burst from his cock, flooding my pussy, the throb of his cock matching the throb of my cunt.

As the tide of sensation tapered off, I drew in a deep breath and slowly lowered myself down next to Danny, careful of his chest and my still damaged wrist. He curled his arm around me and pulled me close, protecting me once again.

I lifted my face and found him staring at me.

“I think I might love you, Hannah Silvestri,” he said softly.

“I think I might love you, too, Daniel Dutton.”

“Can you see a future with a cop?”

“I can see any future that has you in it.”

“What about you?” he asked, his eyes circling my face. “Besides me, what’s in your future?”

“I’m glad you asked,” I said, rolling over to rest my chin on his chest. “Now that I’ve sold off or shut down all of Ritchie’s businesses, I’ve been thinking about a new venture. A combination Italian restaurant and Irish pub. I’d call it Hannah O’Shea’s.”

He smiled and brushed the hair from my eyes.

“Somehow, that makes perfect sense.”

 

Hot Deleted Scene

As the sunlight peeked through the blinds, I stretched like a lazy cat in need of a petting. My tits pressed against the Egyptian cotton sheets when I lifted my arms over my head. My nipples were hard and taut, and my pussy still ached, wanting more, even though Danny and I had gone five rounds the night before. Was there such a thing as too much sex? Not in my world there wasn’t.

A hard, muscled body moved on top of mine, and Danny gripped my hands, holding them in pace. A smile curved my lips as his dark, dangerous gaze locked on me. He separated my thighs with his knee, spreading my legs wide, and cradled his body tight against mine, his stiff cock against my cunt, so warm and damp and eager for some morning delight.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Danny’s breath washed against my face as he bent his head to nibble on my ear.

“It is a good morning, but you could make it so much better.”

That look in his eye sharpened, and then a devilish gleam appeared. “I never turn down a dare, Hannah. You should know that.”

“I do know that,” I murmured. “Show me what you’ve got. Fuck me into tomorrow.”

“Not yet. A little fun first.”

His eyes still on mine, he slid down the mattress until his hot mouth hovered just above my pussy. He tortured me by pressing open-mouthed kisses across my pelvis, my inner thighs, and my mound, creating small tremors in his wake. He finally licked my slit, and my hips lifted instinctively toward his tongue as my entire body trembled in anticipation. When his lips locked on my clit and he began to suck in slow, rhythmic draws, I closed my eyes in bliss. The man knew how to make a good morning better.

I raked my fingers though Danny’s dark silky hair, pulling his head tighter against me. I listened to his contented murmurs and the sucking sounds of moist flesh as he lapped and nibbled and kissed. My desire spiraled higher, and when Danny shoved two fingers into my hot needy cunt, my pussy clamped down against them and spasmed.

The orgasm flashed through my body like a lightning strike. My back arched as I came, my heart hammering against my ribs. I cried out as streams of intense, grinding pleasure surged from my clit through my pelvis. All of my limbs turned to liquid, and I sprawled helplessly beneath my undercover lover as he chuckled.

When I opened my eyes a few moments later, Danny was staring at me.

“Come here, stud,” I said softly.

He slid back up the mattress and nestled between my thighs, spreading precum on my skin to mingle with my own cum.

He smiled, and without a word, he shoved his cock deep into my cunt, so hard, so fast that my breath stuttered. His granite length penetrated deeply, sliding against my G-spot and hitting my cervix, and my cunt, still fluttering in the aftermath of my first orgasm of the morning, clutched his dick tightly.

“Am I on the right track?” he asked.

“Baby, you’re always on the right track. But move the train a little faster. I want to be fucked.”

“So bossy.”

He pulled out a few inches and then playfully nudged back in, his smile telling me I was in for quite a few orgasms before we got out of bed, but they would happen at his pace. For long, teasing moments, he rocked his cock in and out of my body, and as lovely as it was, I can be a greedy little bitch.

“Harder,” I said. “Faster.”

He pressed his mouth to mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I could do nothing but open for him. His tongue searched my mouth, his breath hot against my face, his arms tightening around my back. He was the world’s best kisser.

I wiggled my hips. “I mean it, Danny. Fuck me. For real.”

He traced kisses along my jawline then licked in the hollow of my throat. He brought his gaze back to mine, his eyes glittering in the soft light of dawn.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m thinking these tits of yours need some attention.”

He cupped one aching tit in his hand, his thumb tweaking the nipple and then pinching it. My pussy throbbed when he latched onto one tit and began to suck, hard, deep, the force of the suction sending tingles through my chest. He caressed the length of my body, and then he cupped my ass and squeezed, drawing me tight against him, his cock ramming into my cunt and stealing my breath. Then he held still, simply staring at me.

“Hard enough?” he asked. “Deep enough?”

“No,” I whimpered. I cupped his face and stared into his eyes. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

He sat back on his heels, yanking my body up his thighs. The angle pushed him deep, and with each stroke, his cock nudged my G-spot. An ache to come spiraled through me. Hands gripping my hips, Danny speared my cunt with his dick again and again, pushing and pulling until my pussy burned and throbbed, the need to come more acute than ever. How did each fuck get better? How much magic did this man’s cock hold?

My tits bounced each time Danny rammed his cock into my pussy. I cupped them, rubbing the nipples between my fingers until the friction sent surges through my chest to my clit.

I was panting, my breathing labored from the frantic beats of my heart. I wrapped my legs around his back and surrendered to his masterful fucking.

Pure ecstasy, but I knew how to make it even better.

I pressed my finger against my clit, just one small touch, and my body exploded into an orgasm so powerful my cunt clamped down on Danny’s cock and pulsed in a frenzied rhythm. Danny groaned and gripped my hips, giving one last yank to lock my body against his. His cum jetted into my pussy in strong waves, and then he fell on top of me, snuggling close, kissing my neck.

“Damn,” he said. “Damn…”

“Damn is right. What a great way to start the day.”