His orgasm-addled brain pushed big words onto his tongue, but he swallowed them, keeping them in his head.
I love you. Finley thought, stroking Kage’s back.
The warm light of the room played on Kage’s features like a sunset, and his lazy smile spoke of satisfaction and more tenderness than Finley deserved.
“Are you okay?” Kage grazed his knuckles over Finley’s cheek.
Finley released a tired chuckle. “I don’t think you know what you just did to me.”
“Then tell me.”
“You made me feel whole. Made me feel something good again.”Like I’m worth it.
“Fuck, Finley.” Kage’s voice broke, and he took Finley’s mouth in a slow kiss, melting him even more. He pulled away with a grunt of reluctance. “How about a bath?” Splaying his hands on Finley’s abdomen, he spread the come up his chest for emphasis.
“Only if you join me.”
“With pleasure.” Kage grinned.
Chapter Twenty
Finley
The atmosphere in the club before opening was so quiet it was like wandering around an abandoned building. Finley was completing the checklist, noting that the lights in the theatre needed looking into, and the door to one of the private areas was too hard to close. In the meantime, his mind was still on the night Kage had broken his mind and body into pieces, then put him back together with gentle hands as they’d sat in the bath. A few months ago, he’d have been shocked to even consider what Kage had done to him, but back then he hadn’t let himself think what he really needed and wanted without caving in to the pressures of society and his inner demons. Kage took exorcising Finley’s demons to another level, clearing his head of all worries, as he focused on watching his lover perform as a Dom while he,as a needy sub, waited for him, stimulated on all fronts. It had been such a genius idea. In theory, it might have been too much for Finley, but Kage had known how far to push him and he read Finley’s updated list of soft and hard limits, as well as Finley’s reactions during the set-up. It had been the perfect balance of his needs and kinks rolled into one intense evening.
“Jagoda wants to see you in her office.” Lucy’s voice brought Finley back to the present. Towering over him in her goth platform boots, Lucy fluffed her shimmery dress.
“Thanks. Will you give this to Tom?” Finley handed her the clipboard with his scribbles and ticked boxes on it.
“Sure. Take your time, we got you covered here.” Lucy’s sharp gaze was filled with worry. That wasn’t unusual, since Lucy was the caring parent to every employee and patron in this establishment.
Being called to the boss’s office could mean getting laid off, or being promoted, but having a Mafia Queen signing his checks every week turned the meeting into an unknown territory.
He marched through the club to the bunker-style doors that led deep underground to the offices, then walked into the lush room with no windows.
“Sit. I have news.” Jagoda cut straight to the point, her slim frame dwarfed by the mahogany desk in front of her. Her crimson nails and hair of similar shade were perfect, as always, but her serious expression made the hair at his nape bristle.
Finley took the chair opposite her, straightening his back.
“Ronan called.” The name of Finley’s old boss rolled off her tongue, her Polish accent making it sound as dangerous as the man was in reality. “Your loyalty to him for seventeen years let you leave his employment, but you’re aware that he and my—” she smacked her lips in annoyance, “husband are close, and they’re keeping an eye on you.”
“Yeah.” Finley nodded, squeezing his thighs to stop himself fidgeting. “Don Murphy was clear about that from the start. And I promised if he let me go, I’d do anything that was necessary if he needed my help.”
She smirked. “But you had conditions too.”
“I wanted to know when those who killed my son would be punished. Or dead.” Hope sprung in Finley and he scooted his chair closer. “Do you have any news?”
“Better.” She leaned forward, steepling her fingers over the desk. “Ronan’s people identified the group and the Irish Mafia washed their hands of them. Ronan needs our guys to play bait to let the cops catch the gang red-handed. They won’t go on trial for murder or manslaughter. Well, not your son’s, at least. You understand how making your situation public would create an unnecessary trail to Ronan’s dealings. But they fucked up, and the Irish now have a scapegoat. So they’ll get what they deserve, even if the paperwork won’t have Max’s name on it.”
Finally.
“I’m fine with that. But I have to be there. See who they are.” Look into their scared eyes when they realise they’d be going down.
“Ronan thought you’d say that. So we’re offering you a spot on the bait unit, at your own risk. Personally, I don’t like you going, but Ronan and Zbigniew agree that it’s your choice.”
Finley had worked for the Mafia, though he was in charge of the distillery that laundered money, far from capturing or killing people. But this was the moment he’d been waiting for.
“Thank you. When is it?”
