I pulled the comms from my ear and almost bashed it to bits against the steering wheel. In the corner of my eye, there was Artemis’s smiling face—fucking adorable, I hated it. He should’ve gone to college, he should’ve left this behind him. I was doing him a favor too, before he could change—and I might’ve made it worse. “Have you told you how easy Davide is?” I asked. “If you really wanna get off, go to him, he’ll probably already have a queue of twinkle toes at his door.” I hated the person he was making me, jealous, angry, I was pissed off, and the only dick he was going to be near was mine.
11. ARTEMIS
In the silent car journey towards the Bianchi crime family, I knew I’d done a good job, but Donovan wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of knowing that. I wanted so desperately to hate him for being such a dick—but part of me knew he was trying to save me, like I needed saving anymore.
“Thank you,” I let out in the quiet. “For teaching me how to throw that punch.”
“I bet he’s in a mood,” Jinksy said through my comms. “He’ll get over it, he just likes to be the one saving the day.” He laughed. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
Donovan glared at me, but with no words. He was clearly unhappy with how things went down.
“Are you going to punish me when we get back?”
Nothing, just the grip tightening on the wheel.
“Aren’t you?” I asked, wanting him to answer. “You know, giving me the silent treatment is—”
“Not yet,” he said, calmly. “First, we finish the job, and then we get back to Sanctum, we can discuss what happens next.”
“I don’t regret it,” I said, shuffling in my seat. I knew I made the right move at the right time. I saved both of us with it.
“I know you don’t,” he grumbled. “I think that’s the problem. You need to learn how to follow a simple order, Art. Otherwise, everything we do can be fucked.”
“So much for talking about it when we’re back,” I mumbled, mostly for Jinky to hear. Donovan loved to argue now, it wasn’t like that before. We never argued, we might’ve—actually, I didn’t remember it quite so clearly, but those arguments or disagreements usually ended up with the two of us wrestling in bed, him overpowering me, and then usuallysomething around us break from a leg kicked to high. I pushed my hands between my thighs, rubbing against my cock as it grew harder. This was not ideal.
***
We arrive in Boston without anymore issues. Donovan drove to a large-walled house with a man standing outside it. We were waved into the drive where a fancy sports car was parked on the gravel like a trophy.
The three brothers came out of the large front door of the house. I knew their faces and names from the file. There were subtle differences between Santo and Tomaso, the two biological brothers, and Rocco, the adopted brother. It wasn’t enough for me to mention it—and from their file, I’d never want to put that death wish on myself.
Santo walked to the van, smacking a hand on the hood and laughing. “You made it,” he said. “And in great time.” He was tall, deep brown eyes that almost had me wanting to find the floor so I could kneel on it in front of him—residual effect of Donovan giving me blue balls.
“On your best behavior,” Donovan said. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, by me. Got it.”
I nodded. At least we weren’t in any immediate danger—even if the youngest brother, Tomaso did have tattoo sleeves and one up the side of his neck. He looked pretty—dangerous. Damn, they all looked hot. I didn’t even went to get out of the van. I’d been sat for so long my legs were numb and the only thing that any amount of blood pumping through it was useless.
Donovan got out. “Was Mercy in contact with you?”
He nodded. “Sure was. We’re sorry about all that. But we’re glad we got it all here in one piece.”
“Good, we didn’t know we were going to put in that situation,” he said. “He’s only a trainee. This was supposed to be an easy job.”
Santo laughed. “No such thing as an easy job, brother,” he said, combing back the slickness of his black gelled hair. He pulled out a cigarette from behind his. ear. “You know, there’s a lot going down since my father passed.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said.
“It was months ago, we’ve over it,” he said, lighting the cigarette. “I’m just glad we’ve got the cash.”
Donovan gestured to me. I pushed a hand down the front of my pants, then pulled my cock up into the waistband, there’d be no surprises here. Out of the van, I walked over to them as the two brother walked toward us.
“There are five briefcases in the back of the van,” Donovan said. “We’ll stay with you until you’ve checked them all out. I’m not going to let you let us leave until all money is confirmed over to you.”
Santo chuckled. “I like you,” he said, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. “You ever think about looking for a freelance gig?”
“Transporting?” Donovan laughed. “No. Art, go grab the briefcases.” He instructed me, and I was followed to the back of the van by the two brothers—who I would’ve totally let take me to Eiffel Tower town.
They continued talking about a job, and how Santo knew all about Donovan, recalling some of the jobs he’d heard him do—especially the one where he’d left me because I would get in the way, and he needed the money—not like I ever really thought he would stick to his word and give me that white picket fence fantasy we’d talked about when we were together.
