STAG WAS JUMPING. The line outside wound its way around the corner, not unusual for a weekend. At this time, it was doubtful many more would be admitted. Those inside wouldn’t leave at the height of the party buzz, maybe that was for the best.
Did being in and around Stag improve these people’s chances of safety and survival? Difficult to tell when she had no idea of the threat.
Door security parted to grant access to her and her entourage. Weird to think she had one, but her four guys stayed close, and they had their own tail of destruction. Entourage seemed more apt than “staff” or any other term that put her above them. These were her contemporaries, her friends, though they may not see their relationships in the same way.
Once upon a time, she’d worried when approaching Stag. Worried whether anyone would get in her way or obstruct her. God help anyone who tried that now.
She wasn’t really aware of who was behind her as she ascended the stairs to the office. None of her people joined her when she went inside. Boy did she immediately wish someone had got in her way.
Conn, yep, the guy she loved, standing up close to Madison Byrne. Was this what she was supposed to see? What a set up.
“Upstairs,” Conn said to her, his fingers in Madison’s hair.
Upstairs? Yeah, fine, she’d rather be anywhere but there.
“No,” Madison said, her smile growing sly. “Why does she have to leave? Maybe she should watch.” And that would empty her stomach fast, though liquor was the only thing in it, so… “Where’s Play? Let’s go upstairs and find him.”
Being raised with position gave the Byrne woman confidence. Though that could also have something to do with knowing she was seducing this man away from his true love.
The curtain moved and Play appeared, glass in hand, moving at a slow, deliberate pace, yet exuding only masculinity. Strange how he could be delicate and overwhelming at the same time.
“Where’d you get to?” Play asked her like they were old pals, and completely alone.
“Traffic,” she said.
That wasn’t entirely true, they’d left the mansion late because it took her longer to get ready than—what did it matter? She’d arrived.
“Want to come upstairs?” Madison asked, threading her fingers through Conn’s to guide him over to his cousin, who was granted the gift of Madison’s other hand. “I have a secret to share.”
Oh, a secret? Yeah, she’d still rather eat her own vomit than partake in anything that might involve.
“You don’t care about secrets, Madison,” Play said. “Show your cards.”
Her guy wasn’t in the mood to screw around. “You know what we want.”
This had been a day for quid pro quos.
“In exchange, I want…” Madison raised Play’s hand to her waist, and twined Conn’s arm around her. “Both of you.”
Yep, that was exactly the enlightenment she wasn’t in the market for.
“I have work to do,” she said, getting a few steps closer to the curtain.
It flew aside with more flourish than she’d expect from—Nicole? Niall wasn’t far behind with Razer and Whisper in their wake. Where had they come from? Nicole kept on going, marching right on up to the window that overlooked the clubbers below. The woman was alive, which was something. Maybe something. She wasn’t clear on what actually happened at the hotel.
In a twirl, Mrs. Parker McDade raised her arms. “You people are crazy!”
“We people are your—hey, High Class!” Whisper swerved around her husband to pull her into an embrace. “Oh, baby, we’ve got so much to catch up on.”
Whisper hooked their arms together and instantly she felt better, stronger. The connection reminded her that this was their domain, her domain. She kissed Whisper and slunk away from her, through the others to the man who shared her bed. His arm may still be around the Byrne, but her hands slithered up his body onto his cheeks. Without resisting, he came down to meet her kiss. Not only meet it but amplify it with the enticing dive of his possessive tongue.
He hooked her body, yanking it to his. Even though she bumped against Madison, she didn’t relinquish the kiss. This was her man. No matter what might happen later, what he might have to do for the good of the family, he would always be her man. Mistress or not, no one would stop her showing him love.
“This family is…” Amped, Nicole dominated the stage. “Someone tried to kill me! I could’ve been killed. You people are supposed to be keeping me safe not making out like teenagers!”
Foreign words from Niall’s tongue stole Conn’s from her. Throughout his response to his lieutenant, his gaze stayed on hers, dark, aroused, tempting. Were there other people in the room? How could he hold a conversation when so much electricity zipped between them?
“I love this family, so friendly.” Whisper closed in and caught her free hand in both of her own. “We look after each other, look out for each other. Making out like teenagers is bonus content, and our guys are all about the extras.”
Turning her head to lay it against her man, she smiled at Whisper right there next to her. Nicole appeared just beyond.
“You told me no one knew where I was!”
“Shit, you’re shrill. And you wonder why someone would want you dead, Pretty Nicki?” Whisper wasn’t shy. “First time in my life I ever agreed with a Byrne. Feels icky, but I can’t fight it.”
“Peanut,” came the warning from husband to wife.
“Why are we expending energy protecting the ungrateful slut?”
“Oh, Doherty, you are totally—”
The office door flew open. Before she’d even whirled around, a gunshot blasted the air. Her mouth opened but produced no sound.
The towering man just inside the door, arm straight, held a gun with just a trickle of smoke at the barrel. She jumped when his eyes cut her way, not to her, course not, they landed on the man against her.
“We’ll take care of it,” Conn said, ever calm.
Without a word, the giant of a man turned and walked out like nothing happened. Was it nothing? The shot, shit, who was—she’d heard someone hit the floor, had she? The—Nicole.
Conn cradled the back of her skull, not forcing her still, but keeping her close. On their rug, right in the middle, Nicole’s still body, eyes fixed, stained the red of their already red stag head.
“All business, no pleasure,” Whisper said on a sigh. “The things someone should do to that man. Only Fans was designed for guys like him. One picture and half the planet would be pregnant overnight.”
“Contract’s satisfied,” Play said.
Whisper spoke next. “So you can toddle off back to Daddy, Madison and—oh, wait. Can she toddle back to Daddy, men?”
“Not a fucking chance,” Play said.
With a single shouted foreign word, Niall commanded a half dozen guys to enter and encircle Madison.
Conn’s other arm came around her, holding her close as Madison was forced to move with the current of the moving men.
“What is this?” Madison demanded. “Ire—”
“You just became a bargaining chip,” Whisper said, heading the parade of others, traipsing back through the curtain. “A pawn. Score likes pawns.”
Where were they going? Not downstairs. Where would they be—
Conn’s embrace tightened, clamping her body to his. He wasn’t going anywhere. Everyone else left the room, but he stayed right there, with her, holding her, staring into her.
“You’re a fucking wonder, Cushla Machree.”
She flattened a hand on his chest. “You are my kingdom.”
He scooped a hand around the side of her head. “Act like it.”
Their kiss carried them to the desk, she bumped against it, coming up hard against wood behind and in front. His was welcome against her core, desired, needed. Even before settling on the desk her hips were rising, writhing.
“Conn…” Her head fell back granting passage for his lips to trail down her throat. The pad of his thumb traced along her collarbone, stimulating each inch with the digit before his lips followed. “Yes…”
He unclipped her dress at the back of her neck and the two sections fell, though his hands did their part in sliding forward over her shoulders, pushing the fabric from her breasts to her hips.
The people who’d been in there had gone through the curtain. Would they come back? Would they be interrupted by—screw it. Shaking her feet to get rid of her shoes, the soles ran up his legs before her limbs coiled around him.
“Right here,” he growled, dragging his teeth across her clavicle.
“Yes.” The permission came from her mouth and her fingers battling with his fly. “Here.”
Grabbing him out, she pushed away from his kiss to align their bodies and quaked when he slid into her. Them, together, the whole world existed for them to feel like this. The slow advance and quick retreat wasn’t his usual rhythm, but the admiration in his eyes did almost as much to rouse her hormones as his stimulating body.
“Baby…” Letting her head fall back, she planted her palms on the desk and levered her hips up. “Mmm…”
God, he felt good. Without missing a beat, he sped his thrusts until he pounded into her. Their lives depended on hitting climax, right then, right there. Grabbing her hip tight, his other hand slid through her cleavage and over her breast, curling his fingers into it, bruising force sent a barb of pleasureful pain to her clit.
Mm, yes, that was what she needed. His fingertips skimmed lower, the moment they brushed across her clit, she called out in climax as her body clung to his.
“Lord,” she whispered when her peak of pleasure yanked his to its summit.
With him embedded deep inside her, she lost the tension of her arms and fell onto her back, right there, sprawled across the desk.
“Mo Grá,” she panted, eyes closed. He slid out and righted her dress just enough to cover the sensitive parts. “If I stay right here, will I get in the way of your business?”
As he sat at the desk, she opened her eyes. With her head on the angle of his side, she smiled at him upside down.
“You’re never in the way.”
He touched her shoulder and kept on going until he held her breast beneath the concealing fabric. Her arms weren’t in the dress, but she didn’t care. She did care his mouth was so far from hers.
“Everyone went through the curtain, is there a party going on upstairs?”
“Basement,” he said and opened a drawer to retrieve a stack of paper.
“Basement? The stairs through there are up.”
Reading, he didn’t give her his full attention. “There’s a concealed stairway access through the playroom.”
So much she still didn’t know about the building. Breathing out, holding the dress to her chest, she gave in to the inevitable and sat up. That was the “oops, shit,” moment. Nicole still lay there, on the rug, dead.
“Oh, God.”
“It’s handled,” her guy muttered behind her.
“We just had sex in front of a corpse.” And hadn’t she just been thinking they hadn’t done anything freaky in a while? Yeah, that definitely qualified. “I can’t believe she’s really dead.”
“Not much more proof I can give you than what you’re looking at.”
“Who was he?” she asked, looping her arms into her dress while twisting on her butt to sit in the middle of his desk, legs curled at her side. “The shooter? How did he get past security?”
Without furor or panic. If he’d fought his way in and up the Stag stairs, shouldn’t they have had some warning in the form of sound at least?
The cigar box sat back in its place. Huh, how had that happened? Did it still have—
Conn’s heavy hand closed the lid before she could open it more than an inch. “I don’t know,” her guy said, still reading, until his eyes rose to hers above the document for a second. “We’ll look into it.”
Yeah, right, like she believed that. But she wasn’t supposed to, his gaze said it all. When he was reading again, her mind went to work.
“You let him through security. You must’ve. No one would get into Stag without…” she whispered. “How could he know Nicole would be right there, right then to—who was he? Was it him at the hotel earlier? Did he follow your people here?”
“Our people. And no.”
“I don’t understand.”
“All players saw what they needed to see. Everything went according to plan.”
Not enough that Nicole was just dead, the whole thing had been orchestrated by…
“You’re incredible,” she whispered. “The cops said ‘Irish down’ on their—”
“We’re not the only Irish in the city.” More than incredible. He put the paper aside. “You haven’t eaten dinner, do you want to go out?”
“It’s after midnight.”
“Free choice, pick any restaurant in the city.”
“Shouldn’t we do something about Nicole?”
When her head started to turn, he grabbed her hand, stalling it. “Macushla, you trust me.” That wasn’t a question, didn’t have to be when he knew the answer. “It’s handled.”