My wife walks into the kitchen wearing nothing but one of my white t-shirts, which barely covers her pussy. Her nipples are like dark circles on the semitransparent fabric, and my dick gets hard as if I didn’t fuck the shit out of her last night and this morning. She yawns and I watch the t-shirt ride up her ass as she leans over the kitchen counter.

That’s one place I haven’t fucked her.

I stand up, hard-on blazing against my slacks as I approach her from behind. She doesn’t hear me coming and jumps a little when my arm curls around her waist. She leans into my embrace, her curves soft against my body. Maya turns around, smirking as I hook a finger in her dangling neckline and sneak a peek of her tits. Not that I can’t see them already.

She looks down and sees my hard-on. “Again?”

I slide my hands up the backs of her thighs and I squeeze her ass. “If you’re going to parade yourself like this in front of me, you better get used to it.”

Her tongue wets her lips and my mouth waters at the thought of having those beautiful lips wrapped around me. She reaches out and grabs my cock, curling her fingers around it. I feel it jump in her fingers.

Then my hands sweep around her waist, just under the hem of the t-shirt. I cup her mound and reach back with a finger, finding her nice and wet. I plunge inside her, and her eyes become round as she lets out a small gasp. Jesus Christ, she’s wet. So fucking wet.

“Please, Johnny.”

I remember the first time I fucked her—how easily she manipulated me by throwing her tits in my face. I reach around her back and tighten her shirt, admiring how it wraps around her. I bend my head and sink my teeth into her curves. I grab the little nipple with my teeth and bite, and then I play with my lips.

“You signed over your pussy to me.”

We married a week ago in a church. I saw the love in her eyes when we kissed on that altar, and I see it every time she looks at me. I feed off of it—need it just as badly as I need her body.

A small chuckle escapes her lips even as I’m thrusting in that wet cunt. Her cheeks burn red as I stop. I want to laugh when the color drains from her face. I gather her thick hair in my hand into a ponytail and I yank her head backward.

“You’ve got something to say?”

“No.”

“You laughed. You think being my wife is a joke?”

“No,” she says in a tremulous voice, still smiling.

All right, then.

I lead her to the kitchen table and push her back so that she bends over. Then I flip the t-shirt over her skin, exposing her beautiful ass. Keeping a firm grip on her hair, I use my other hand to smack her. Her muscles jump as I lay my hand down on her and a slight red tinge blossoms on her cheeks. The sound cracks across the kitchen as I do it again. The red color deepens, rising to her skin as my palm cracks over her again. With my thumb, I spread her cheeks apart and look at her glistening pussy.

For the love of God, take your pants off and sink your cock into that.

Fuck.

I pull on her ponytail slightly so that she arches her back and looks at me with a pained expression. My hand soothes the burn, and then she makes a moan that seems to stroke my cock. I shove my slacks down and my boner stands to attention. Then I sink into her streaming pussy and her walls swallow me, letting me into her deep heat. God, it’s fucking amazing. A long sigh shudders from my lips as I anchor myself, keeping my hand on her hip. Her tits kiss the kitchen table as I nail her from behind, and I relish the sight, reaching forward to grab a handful. Then my hands glide down her arms and I drag them behind her back, holding her wrists with one hand. I use her wrists to yank her back as I thrust my hips hard enough to make her body lurch forward, then wrench back. It’s not long before her screams echo all over my apartment.

“Spread your legs. Wider.”

I slap her ass again and she adjusts her feet. I want to feel my balls flush against her body. My cock throbs, aching for a release, and I slam my hips into her with a loud, wet slap. She moans with a guttural sound as I hammer her cunt, yanking back on her wrists. So fucking close.

Then I let go of her hands and lean over her body, snaking my arm underneath her tits as I grab her shoulder and bury myself deep. I hold it there and a moan rips from my throat as energy runs through my groin like electricity. I pinch her clit and thrust a few more times as her pussy milks me dry. Then I feel her orgasm gripping my cock, and utter another sharp groan. I pull out of her and slide the t-shirt back down, the aftershocks still rippling down my legs.

My chest tightens when she wraps her arms around my waist and kisses me, still slightly out of breath.

Then I lower my mouth to her ear. “Get dressed, baby. I’ve a surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

Keep the wife happy while I’m working… Check.

I park my car, rolling up against the side of the curb in the busy street. Maya gives me a curious look as I shut the engine off.

“What is it?”

I say nothing, opening the door and watching her face as she gets out. She looks around, confused, and I take her hand.

“Where is it?”

The excitement in her voice makes me smile. “I’m taking you to it.”

I bought it as a sort of apology for not being able to go on a honeymoon right after the wedding. With everything going on, it would’ve been impossible. I lead her down the sidewalk until I find Sue’s Hair Salon written in fading lettering on the glass, and then I open the door. There’s a row of sinks and mirrors, a receptionist desk, everything she’d need for her own business.

“What—”

“It’s yours, Maya.”

She wheels around, her face suddenly red as she stares at me. “What?”

My laugh echoes in the room. “This place is yours.”

“Oh my God!” She claps her hands over her mouth and screams. Then she tackles my waist and squeezes my middle.

Happiness swells inside me to see her so ecstatic. I hold her to my chest and press my lips to her head. “It’s my wedding gift to you.”

In tears, she gazes up at me, shaking her head. “It’s too much.”

“Everything that’s mine is yours. I want you to have everything you want.”

I just can’t get over how beautiful she is—how she always looks so amazing. Her hair sits on her shoulders, featherlight. Her lips flush with color as she bites them, trying to keep herself from crying.

“I love you.”

And I mean it. For the first time in my life, I mean it. Like her, I don’t understand why or how—I just know that she’s the one. She gave me what I’d been wanting for so long.

She clings to my shirt and wraps me in a hug that somehow feels different from the ones she usually gives me. Warm air gusts over my neck. “I love you, too.”

The words give me a thrill. I wanted that, too. Someone devoted to me because they love me, not because I’m the boss. She’s the only one who stands up to me and calls me out on my bullshit. I love her for that.

Happy tears leak from her eyes. “But what about you? I didn’t get you anything.”

“I have everything I want. Now what do you say?”

“Thank you, Johnny. I can’t believe this—can I change the name?”

“You can do anything you want, baby. It’s your business.”

She just lights up at that, and then I call out to the girls waiting in the back. “You can come on out.”

Six girls walk out of the back room with big smiles as Maya looks at me curiously. “These girls are going to be working for you. They’ll help you get clients and get this place running.”

She greets them enthusiastically, and I pull her aside. “I’ve got to go, but you can call Chris when you want to be picked up.”

“Okay!” Her lips tremble as sadness overcomes her again. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Bye, hon.”

I kiss her cheek, a glow filling my chest when I watch her smile as she checks out the place, and then I walk out of the hair salon and back to my car.

I’ve been up for hours, obsessing over every detail of what we having going on later tonight. Tonight’s the night of the biggest robbery I’ve ever planned. Everybody’s ready to go on my command, but what that kid said to me still grates against my conscience.

He’s planning something.

I’ve got my guys out on the streets, looking for Carlos to bring him in. I’m not fucking around anymore. The burning message I left at the fortress wasn’t enough. Things are too damn quiet.

I run through the list of things in my head as I pull away from the curb and drive toward the meeting at St. Joseph’s Deli. We’ve got the keys to every door, we know the exact procedure to get in and out of there, we know all the guards by name, even that you have to shut the door before opening the safe, otherwise it trips a silent alarm. I have a guy who will dispose of the van at the junkyard after I transfer the money at the garage to another car. If this goes perfectly, we won’t have to fire a single shot.

Common sense tells me to stay the fuck away, but I can’t shake that I need to be there. It’s the biggest robbery ever attempted. I’ve got to be there.

You’re putting yourself at risk.

Fuck.

* * *

Waiting’s the hardest part of my fucking job. For years I was a soldier, getting my hands dirty while my father sat on his ass, waiting for me to bring home a thick wad of cash. Dick.

Now I’m the boss. I delegate things, which is hard when you like doing everything yourself. I sit in the back of the car. We’re parked near the cargo terminal of the airport.

Distant screams of jets vibrate the ground and I clench my teeth as I check my watch. The fifty-minute window rapidly approaches, and there’s no sign of my men.

Something’s wrong.

“Fuck!”

Sal clenches his fist at my outburst. “Take it easy.”

“We have a small window, Sal. I was very fucking clear about that. It only takes them ninety seconds to seal this whole place.”

Dark shapes fly out of the cargo terminal, and Chris immediately starts the car.

“What the fuck are they doing?”

I see the duffel bags on their shoulders, and then I see them heading for bikes.

“GO!”

A white, consuming rage shakes my hands as I grab the pistol strapped to my waist. Chris cuts off the motorcycles with the car and I see their rat fucking faces. One of them swings a shotgun at the window.

BAM!

The shotgun’s blast kills my hearing as it blows a hole the size of my fist in the window. I slam the door open and fling my body behind it, squeezing off shots that I can’t hear. The biker’s head whips back, the blood like a slingshot behind his head as several sparks burst on the door next to me.

Carlos’ people are already fucking here.

“John!”

A heavy weight slams into my back, and my chin hits the cement. Then I hear a scream and Sal’s body rolls off me, blood bursting from his chest. I see movement and my arm jerks instinctually. I pull the trigger, but not before he squeezes off a shot. I dive to the right, and my jacket rips open as a bullet grazes my shoulder. Shit. It stings.

Motorcycle engines roar all around me and I scream into the air as Sal clutches his chest. I know that look draining his face. He’s not going to fucking make it.

A bike slows down and I jump back behind the car door. A deep voice laughs over the roar of the engine and I realize that I’m out of ammo. And I’m staring at the end of a double-barreled shotgun.

Oh God. Maya—

It’s him. Carlos. He laughs his fucking head off and anger bristles inside me. His fucking face is going to be the last thing I see.

“Eat the road, fuckface. I’m bringing my little girl home, and I’ll kill you and any other motherfucker who gets in my way. Thanks for the cash.”

Then he aims his gun at the tires in my car, blowing them out in a series of deafening blasts.

My scream dies in the guttural roar of his engine as he throttles away.

Maya!

This has to be a nightmare. I’m just cracking up a little. There’s no fucking way Les Diables made off with my score, killed Sal and I don’t know how many others, and is en route to rip my wife and baby from my arms.

I stand up, leaving Sal to die on the pavement because nothing matters to me more than getting to my wife as quickly as possible. Blood roars in my ears as I see several more bodies.

“Chris!”

He limps toward me as the rest of my crew sprints out of the airport terminal. François and the others grind to a halt, shock all over their faces.

“Jesus. What happened to the money?”

Who the fuck cares about the money?

“He’s going after my wife! Where’s your fucking car?”

Sirens cut through my voice, and François gestures to the car. I sprint toward it, but François and the other men hesitate. “We can’t just leave them.”

“GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!”

My family—my real family—comes fucking first. He doesn’t try to argue with me a second time. I sprint toward his car, the footfalls of my guys behind me. We pile into the car and a pang hits me as we roll beside Sal’s body.

I’ve got to end it. He should’ve been dead weeks ago, and now I’m paying the price.

The tires screech as we drive the fuck out of there. I try to think of where Maya might be. Home? There’s no way he’d make it to my apartment.

“Where is she?”

“Try the hair salon.”

It keeps playing over and over in my head as hot blood slides down my arm. He cut us down like dogs, and then he took my fucking money. Now he wants to take my wife, too.

What if he does the same to her?

A horrifying image of Maya surrounded by a pool of blood makes me pound the dashboard until my knuckles bleed. My mind goes red when François drives on the street where my wife’s hair salon is. Chrome glints in front of the place. Three, four bikers. They raise their weapons.

SMASH.

The windshield splinters like a spiderweb.

“RUN THEM OVER!”

He slams it and the car screeches as metal folds underneath, their bodies flying over the cracked windshield. There’s a huge bang, and he loses control of the van, crashing into a parked car. My body slams into the dashboard as he hits the brakes, but immediately I open the door and get out, the world swimming in front of me.

I have to save her.

Gunshots crack at me, exploding next to me as bits of brick fly. My shoulder smashes into the salon’s door, and a female scream hits my ears.

“I’m not going—LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“You’re coming with me if I have to fucking drag you back. We’ll get you some doctors—we’ll fix the—”

“NO! JOHNNY!”

My wife screams my name as I draw my gun. He has her hair fisted in his hand, and I can’t see anything but my father. My vicious, backstabbing father.

I took the black bag from his face—

I sneak up behind Carlos and with the hand holding the pistol, I crack it across his skull.

He sneered at me, his hands cuffed behind his back.

He lets out a deep moan as I do it again, and again. There are screams all around me, like a chorus of demons. I make the bastard kneel on the hard floor.

Dad kneeled on the shitty floor as I held my Beretta against his head.

He looks at me with hatred.

“What the fuck is so wrong with me?”

I screamed the question to him. It was raining. Big fat drops all over my skin, as if I were crying. It felt like it.

I see my old man, staring up at me. “WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DO THIS?”

I waited, but he said nothing.

Then I raise my gun to his head, and I pull the trigger. I kill him all over again. Dark blood vomits out of the back of his head, and his eyes immediately roll up into his head, but this time a woman screams. His body crashes to the floor, blood spilling over the brand-new tiles.

“You’re going to die alone, surrounded by your riches.”

I loved him.

Now he’s dead. He’s fucking gone and I killed him. My feet give way and I sink to the ground, clutching my head as the pool of red touches my feet.

“JOHNNY!”

Maya’s shaking arms pull me into a hug, and I’m ripped to the present. I’m kneeling in her father’s blood. Technically, my father, too. She’s my wife.

She’s all that matters now.