“You saw?” I ask, not needing to finish the question when Caleb answers tersely.
“Every fucking second of it.” He grits out the words as though the fact pains him.
“You moan so prettily when your guard is down and you’re impaled on my fingers.”
A blush creeps up my throat, the staccato thump of my heart beating wildly against my emotional shield that is trying to keep it safe from these guys. “If you’re waiting for me to fall at your feet and beg for a repeat, you’ll be waiting a while. You should have packed a snack.”
“You are the snack, Dove.” Coop grins wickedly, dipping the fingers he had inside me in the closet between his lips as though he’s savouring the taste of me. There’s a promise of more in his tone, and I barely move quick enough to mask the shudder that rocks through me at the implication.
I want it, but I won’t admit that to them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
COOPER
Amatte black range rover with blacked-out windows peels into the carpark right on time, its wheels screeching as it comes to a stop beside our car. Ezra had said a cleaner would be arriving ten on the dot, and look at that—not a minute late. I was reluctant to add another person to the list of people I may have to kill in the future if they spill my secrets, but this connection came with the use of the 4x4, some clean money, and a means to discard of our broken-fingered friend on the floor over there. We may have lived in Hells Haven for years before our incarceration, but when we were hauled away in cuffs, every connection we had was severed, the familial ties officially cut when our father died three years ago. All that there was for us here was farmland with a burned down house and ramshackle stables and this pretty little thing bound with rope in front of us.
A large guy with jet black hair pulled back into a low bun wearing a black motorcycle jacket and dark jeans stepsout of the car with a lit cigarette between his lips. He’s older than us by a few years and his olive skin tan as though he’s spent his days riding out in the wilderness on a Harley. Ezra mentioned his connection to a local biker gang when we spoke, and I made it my business to research who we would be working with. I like to keep our circle small.
“Jose Vergari,” he says as he extends a hand out to me. I reach out and shake it. It can’t hurt to have a biker with intel of body disposal in the fold. It’s too easy to murder people where our Dove is concerned.
“Looks like you’ve been in the wars. Who did you piss off?” he asks, wincing with a hiss as though he can feel my pain as he leans forward to get a better look at my face, clearly disgusted by the state of it. He chuckles when both Ebony and Caleb put their hands in the air proudly to claim their parts in the rearranging of my features.
I deserved the punch from Caleb for many reasons. A: for touching Ebony when he explicitly told me not to. B: for making him watch as she came apart on my fingers, and C: for being so mesmerised by our hot-as-hell session that I lost her in the crowd and almost left her at the hands of Bobby over there, Hell Haven’s local douchebag rapist. The headbutt from my Dove however, after the stellar orgasm I gave her in the closet, feels a little unwarranted, but I plan to tie her up and punish her for that one later, so for now I’ll let it slide.
“You were here for a purpose?” Caleb snaps rudely, and Jose clears his throat to continue, wisely sticking with his spot closest to me as he reaches into his pocket. Of the two of us, Caleb is the harder one to read but the easiestto piss off. I think he’s what the psychiatrists referred to astemperamental.
Beckoning me over to his vehicle, he lowers his tone, glancing Ebs’ way to make sure she isn’t listening in. “Ezra asked Jax for the latest software update with the smallest hub. There’s two in there.” He hands me a black velvet pouch, and I check out the trackers. Small enough to hide on our Dove without her knowledge—perfect. “And the uhm, other things,” he continues sheepishly as he hands over the holdall that has the equipment for the cameras that I plan on installing in Ebony’s apartment later this evening. I don’t know happened to the ones we’d already installed, but the chips were fried last time we checked. “Undetectable,” he adds with a nod of his head as he glances Ebony’s way again.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ebony cuts in coldly, failing to hide the uneasy wash of fear from me that tickles up her spine as she shifts uneasily on her feet. I have to give it to her though, her stern tone never wavers. I’ve been watching her every day since she arrived here to Hells Haven, and I’ve become attune to every microscopic show of emotion, even when she bolsters them with a show of the confidence that doesn’t quite reach those glassy grey eyes flecked with violet that I want to lose myself in.
Even when she’s inflicting pain on me, I’m a sucker for our girl. Jose walks around me and approaches her, Caleb shifting instinctively to bridge the gap between them protectively. Jose nods Caleb’s way, assuring him he means no harm, and Caleb relaxes, stepping to the side, close enough that if he needs to fly into action, he can.
“I’m the man who makes this little problem go away.I’m also pretty skilled with a tattoo gun and a car engine if you’re in the market.” Jose pauses with a chuckle, seemingly unfazed by the bloody girl we have tied up.
“I’m standing beside a dead body in a ripped dress with my hands bound. Maybe we can talk about possible artwork and motor repairs at a more convenient time,” she fires back, and her ire has my dick hardening in my jeans again. Poor sod is going to be exhausted if she keeps this up.
We all laugh light-heartedly in unison at her spirit in the face of adversity.
“I am channelling all my inner strength right now to deal with you fucking heathens—let’s not push me.” The sick fuck that I am, all I want to do is continue to push her. I’ve missed her feistiness, but my desire to live past tonight has me holding back whatever smart remark is lingering on my lips. Ebony is small and sweet-looking, but appearances can be deceiving, and I know more than most what our Dove here is capable of.
My face aches as my split nose twinges as though to second the thought.
We’re using kid gloves with Ebony right now, but as her anger simmers to near boiling point, I know it won’t last for long.
My twin clearly didn’t get the memo when he unwisely asks, “Without angering the beast, can I ask what personality we’re dealing with presently?”If I remember rightly, this back and forth teasing between these two is like no time has passed at all.
“What personality?” she snaps. The dominant energy bouncing between them is electrifying, my skin pricklingwith heat as I watch their exchange, remembering the feel of her pussy in my grip as I groan aloud.
They both whip their heads around to stare at me like I have three heads—and I couldn’t care less.
Leave me with my little ball of happiness.
I don’t know when the lines had blurred between us. I want her, and the harder I try to deny it, the more frustrated I feel. I know Caleb is still pissed that I deviated from our plan to punish her and stole a taste of our girl, but I refuse to feel bad about the fact. It’s worth all this pent-up brooding anger he’s slinging my way. I’d happily fall to my knees and face a shooting line just to hear her whisper my name as she came again.
“We’ve known you for more years than you care to remember, little Dove—last time I checked, you were fighting between ten personalities,” Caleb retorts smugly, trying and failing to hide the desire that echoes beneath his stare as his eyes trail the length of her body.
“Introducing Carrie 3.0. Don’t fuck with me,” is all she says as she shoves her pointer fingers into his chest, gulping down air when he doesn’t move and simply growls at the connection. She assumes he’s angry. I know better. Just like me, my brother is desperate to claim her as ours.
