A Bloody Kingdom (Ruthless People Book 4) (15 page)

There were days I forgot I was married to a total bitch and on such days, she made sure to remind me clearly.

“Never mind her for a second. This Emilio, I think he might be the son of an enemy of my father’s. I can tell he's a monster.”

“Said the most dangerous monster of them all,” I reminded her; of course, that was what she smiled about.

“You aren't taking them seriously are you?” Her glare turned to me and all I could do was shrug.

“Liling doesn’t seem to care at all about her family’s
business
. This Emilio doesn't have the money or the means to get a sniper to shoot at our children, Mel. There is no proof either of them is anyone worth worrying about. For all, we know Liling could actually be in love with him and living her own Hollywood fairytale romance. Other than the fact that she is the daughter of Ju-long Tàiyáng, she is meaningless. He is the head of the family and what really matters are him and his motherfucking sniper. We chose Pennington Academy becauseit was in an Irish neighborhood where we owned all the surrounding buildings and there were no clear lines of sight. Whoever made that shot did so with almost no visibility and poor weather conditions. If I wasn't going to skin him alive, I would hire him.”

“You aren't going to skin him.” She sat up in the chair.

I knew what she was thinking and I wasn't having it. “Melody.”

“Liam, nine kids got shot. I'm the fucking governor. The city needs this guy in.”

“Then he will be brought in dead.”

“Liam, before they declared war, they knew we'd react. The sniper is no better than a dog—a suicidal dog, but a dog nonetheless. We do not concern ourselves with dogs. If you kill him personally, you belittle yourself. Let the city have him. They won't expect it. Besides, you still have people in jail right? Let him be the public enemy."

I leaned in, cupping the sides of her face. “When it comes to anyone who points a gun at my children, I don't care how little I seem, Melody."

“Then what is your plan, husband?”

“I hurt him. He screams. He bleeds. He dies. The end.” Grabbing my jacket from behind the chair, I moved to the door.

“So we aren’t going to have a civilized conversation about this?” she called out when I reached the door. Pausing, I turned back to her. She didn’t bother getting up, she just rested her cheek in the palm of her hand.

“I may wear a suit. I may go to church. But the last thing I am, wife, is civilized. I’m not going to play games with these people. If I have to drop bombs on all of China then I will. There will be revenge for today.”

A wicked grin spread across her red lips. “Now you’re just trying to turn me on.”

“Why were you off to begin with?” I winked before stepping out. “I’ll be in our room in an hour, be undressed by then.”

Before she could argue and I got far too tempted, I shut the door behind me, trying to ignore the growing hard-on I was sporting.
Fuck.

Tilting my head up I tried to think,
to calm myself down. I had things I needed to do that night.
Focus, Liam. Focus.
I yelled at myself, but I couldn’t get that grin of hers out
of my head.
Fuck!

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I turned back, ripping the door open. Her head snapped up at me as my eyes wandered down the curve of her back. She stood still by my desk, dressed in the fitted cream-colored dress she had put on for work that morning, her heels discarded by her feet.

“I thought I had an hour?” Her eyebrow rose.

“I lied.” I closed the door behind me and threw my jacket onto the couch before stalking up to her.

She moved around to the front of the desk, crossing her arms. “I thought you were going to talk to your brother?”

“Am I really that predictable?” I asked when I stood in front her, my dick twitching; it took all of my strength not bend her over the desk and fuck her till morning.

“When it comes to our kids, yes.” She placed her hand on my chest and I put mine on her hip. “Do you think I’m predictable?”
“Yes, but only to me,” I whispered when she leaned in closer, brushing a strand of her dark hair from her face. No one else understood her the way I did and I never wanted that to change. Her lips hovered over mine, her eyes following mine.

“Then I have to keep you on your toes, don’t I?” she said, slowly dropping to her knees in front of me. With ease she undid my belt and pants, proudly gripping my cock as it saluted her. Never looking away from me, her pink tongue licked the tip of me and I shivered.

“Fuck!” It was the only word that came to mind as she licked from the tip all the way to the base, then sucked my balls. Her tongue rolled over the veins now throbbing painfully. Her hands stroked me. “Mel—fucking fuck!”

My jaw dropped when she took me into her mouth, her teeth gliding down my dick gently. She enjoyed it, watching me helpless…moan after moan coming from my lips as she tortured me slowly.

There was only so much I could take. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, I held her still before thrusting into her throat. She accepted it willingly, grabbing on to the back of my legs to brace herself. The more she sucked the faster I fucked her mouth. I was so goddamn excited my cock slipped right out of her mouth, slapping her face. I shouldn’t have enjoyed the sight of it as much I did but I couldn’t help it, taking my free hand and rubbing it against her lips. She kissed the side of me pressing her lips onto me for so long her red lips left an imprint on me before I slid back into her warm, wet, sinful mouth.

“Ahh…that’s right baby.” I moaned, burying myself into her throat. I tried to go slower, to savor every thrust, but I couldn’t. Like a bloody animal, I fucked her mouth, thrusting harder and faster, tugging on her hair more firmly than before. Her body was heaven, but her mouth, it was a church, solely for my cock and me…

“Mel-o-dy.” I gasped out, cuming in her, my heart racing in my ears, and she just drank all of me, even licking to the tip of me when she was done. Rising to her feet, she leaned back, wiping the corner of her mouth.

“Any other excuse you have for not talking to your brother?”

Ignoring her, I adjusted myself as she watched me, her nipples clearly poking out through her bra.

“This isn’t over, wife.”

“I’m already wet, husband.”

Fuck me.

Cracking my jaw to the side, I nodded, walking back to the door without another word. Neal. I needed to focus on Neal.

MELODY

The moment he left, Fedel stepped back into the study as I helped myself to Liam’s brandy. The door creaked as it closed.

“Boss?”

I downed the first glass in my hand, the brandy burning like liquid fire down my throat.

“Ugh, he’s going to kill himself with this shit,” I stated even as I poured a second glass.

“The way he drinks it, I’m not sure if it has any effect on him anymore,” he replied, standing as if he were in the military: arms behind his back, chest puffed up proudly, eyes emotionless. When I had first come to this house, I had an army of my people: Monte, Ben, Jinx….and now it was just him. Jinx had died in the one place he had thought of as home: in the sky. The FBI said it was an accident, that a bird flew into one of the wings of the plane, but that smelled like bullshit because it was bullshit. I was supposed to be on that plane. I was the one who was supposed to die, just like Monte, just like Ben. Now it was just Fedel.

“Boss?”

“Emilio Esteban Cortés,” I stated, lifting up his picture. “Do you know who he looks like to me?”

“No boss.” He stepped closer, shaking his head.

“Marcos Felipe Carrasco.”

“El Rojo? The Mexican drug lord?” He sounded far too shocked for the person who was supposed to be keeping his mind and eyes opened for anything that could harm us. “Boss, with all due respect, El Rojo has been dead for well over a decade; you saw to that before marrying into the Callahan family.”

“And then it was your job to make sure his wife and children were also gone.”

“As I did. Every last member of the Carrasco family was taken care of ma’am.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose—a habit I could not drop now thanks to Liam—I shook my head.

“There was a rumor, back then, that El Rojo had a bastard child with some dancer from America whom he hid with his sister—”

“Ma’am, a love child? You think he is the bastard son of one of the most notorious drug lords in Latina America and he’s come to Chicago to get revenge? Ma’am, before he could even get here he would have to get through all of his father’s enemies, not to mention our spies down south—”

“LISTEN!” Slamming my hand on the table, I stood up. “I have been doing this for almost two fucking decades! My instincts have never once failed me! I look at this girl, Liling; she’s the daughter of the most notorious man in China and she goes and marries a no-name Mexican? A Mexican I see and automatically think of Marcos Felipe Carrasco; my mind isn’t playing tricks on me, I’m not going insane! I am sharper than I have ever been in my life. You look at these photos, as my husband does, and see what? A lawyer? A love-struck Chinese girl with a powerful last name? Guess what. I was that girl, I can spot her anywhere else, and she marries up, not down. Find Emilio, Fedel, and put a bullet between his eyes before I get annoyed!”

The Carrasco family had almost destroyed my father. Right as he became ill, Marcos—El Rojo—stole more than half of his heroine and killed dozens of our people, beheading them and leaving them to rot, just to prove a point—that the Giovannis can’t do anything. And he was right; my father was struggling just to keep the Irish at bay, and the Russians were just as bad. He couldn’t take the time to focus on Mexico; his pride wouldn’t let him lose to Sedric. We almost lost everything—our game, our fortune, our worth—all because some fucking Mexican named The Red dared to step into a ring that was never meant for him.

“Boss, I will gladly kill him on sight. Have you spoken to Liam about this?”

“What I have and have not spoken to my husband about is none of your concern. What is my concern, is breathing somewhere in this city. This is unfinished Giovanni business, Fedel. I don’t care how you do it, just put him in the ground. Just saying his name leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” I said, drinking from the bottle.

“Of course.” He nodded before leaving. It was only when he was gone that I sat back down. I had a bad feeling about this…all of this.

And when it came to my work, when it came family, I trusted bad feelings.

LIAM

“Who the fuck?” he yelled, ripping the door and only freezing in his tracks when he saw me. He was shirtless and his jeans hung low. Glancing behind him, I saw Mina pull the sheets up around her.

“Busy brother?” I questioned.

His eyebrow raised as he eyed me carefully. “I was.”

“Was is past tense. Let’s have dinner.”

“It’s one in the morning, Liam.”

“Fine, breakfast then.”

“He’d love to!” Mina yelled, the shirt she threw hitting him in the back of the head. He stared, not bothering to take it off his head before turning around to her.

“Apparently, I’d loved to,” he snapped at her before shutting the door. Taking the shirt off his head, he slid his arms into it.

He didn’t say a word until he noticed we were really going to the kitchen.

“We’re really going to have breakfast?”

“I make killer omelets,” I smirked, pushing the door open, and as I thought, everyone but the cleaning maid was gone. She was scrubbing the floors.

“You can leave us,” I said, not bothering to look at her as I walked to the fridge.

“When you say killer omelets, it doesn’t actually involve dying does it?” he questioned, the stool dragging on the ground as he set up at the kitchen island.

Placing the eggs, onions, and bell peppers next to the stove, I searched for a frying pan. “Do you really think I’d kill you, brother?”

“That depends.”

“On what exactly?” Pan on the stove, I grabbed the knife and his eyes dropped to it, then back up to my face.

“You tell me.”

Slicing through the onion, I didn’t reply because I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond or go about starting this conversation. The great thing about Neal was sometimes he didn’t have patience.

“Liam, what the hell is going on? Why are you cooking me omelets at one in the morning?”

“My attempt at brotherly bonding.” I grabbed the red pepper.

“Brotherly bonding?”

I didn’t like the way he snorted at that. “What? We are brothers; we can’t bond?”

“Nope.” He fought back a laugh. “Or at least not in a ‘let’s have omelets’ sort of way.”

“I’ve already cut the fucking onions, we’re having omelets.”

“Sure.”

“Goddamn it, Neal…can you just pretend for a second this is normal? That we bloody eat fucking omelets together? Jesus Christ.”

He said nothing else as I chopped, slicing with ease through the tomatoes next, then grabbing a stick of butter.

“Where is the salt?” he questioned, and I could feel him peering over my shoulder.

“I don’t add salt, I add pepper.”

“No salt? What?”

“Yes. No salt. I have enough things giving me high blood pressure, thank you,” I grumbled.

“Not a decent omelet without salt,” he muttered under his breath. When I turned back to him he pretended to whistle as if this was some damned show tune.

Luckily that was his last comment as I prepared everything. I flipped the omelet once over in the pan and then onto his plate before I took the table salt and put it beside him.

“Thank you.” He dumped far too much onto his plate before taking a mouthful. “Not fucking bad.”

“Can you even taste it? It looks like it’s being vacuumed into your mouth.” Watching him eat was always a sight; you’d think he was starving.

Pulling up a chair next him, I picked out my eggs, staring at our reflection in the stainless steel across the island for a second. As always, when it came to muscle, he had me outmatched. He was like a tank. I’d always hated how he towered over me growing up.

“Did you ever feel like Father hated you?” I finally threw it out there, to which he coughed, his face turning red. Rolling my eyes, I handed him a glass of water. “Is the question really that surprising?”