Greyson. I cant remember anyone fucking with my head more than my father has, so Im not sure whats happening to me

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I cant remember anyone fucking with my head more than my father has, so Im not sure whats happening to me, except Im distracted as fuck this week.

Melanies deep in my fucking head and deep under my fucking skin.

Im trying to shut her out of my conscious thoughts, but there she is. In my subconscious. Playing with my nipple ring like its her own personal toy.

Id wanted to taste her. Now Ive tasted her, but Im not satisfied.

I want to make her pant like she just won the New York MarathonI want to make her moan like a fucking pro winning a fucking National Moaning contest. And I want to make her smile like she did when I took her home.

Ive been forcing myself to focus, keep my head in the game, my eyes open.

But Christ.

Shes not making it easy.

This week Ive worked two more marks off my list. Ive also found out that my fathers leukemia is realat least the experts I brought in have confirmed it.

Hes settled in a two-story gated home, close to where the Underground season will begin in a month. And its strange. His voice has a different timbre even. His gaze isnt as hard. When I came in, he asked me how I was doing.

Ive got half the list . . .

Not the list. How are you doing?

I stared, not with confusion, but with a slow, simmering rage. Youve done a great job at being an asshole for twenty-five years. Dont change it up on me now. I walked away.

Why not? he called, coughing from the effort it took to yell that out.

Quietly seething inside, I clenched my hands into fists, my knuckles biting into my leather gloves. Because it wont change anything.

Im now out of the house, working on my third mark, but shes still in my head. I keep seeing green eyes, green eyes turned an emerald dark as she comes like some fucking rocket, thrashing and twisting beneath me. Shes that one precious diamond every robber wants to steal, that kitten every dog wants to chase, the mare you want to ride, bridle and tamebut not completely. Oh, no, not all the time because her wildness excites you. Her wildness makes you wilder. Her wildness makes you fucking ravenous.

Hell, these past days I feel like I havent fucking eaten in a hundred thousand weeks.

Goddammit! Get out of my head, princess.

Im settled down at the park table when my target finally appears.

I sit behind an open newspaper with my SIG semiautomatic hidden low and tightly underneath, my aviators shielding my eyes as he walks by.

I keep my voice low enough not to alarm anyone, but loud enough to be heard by the poor shit Im here to fuck with. Sit down, I say.

He jerks at the sound of my voice and reaches into his pocket for what I assume is some method of self-defense. Guy like you, you cant see it, but there are several shooters trained on you from all angles. So you might as well sit.

He drops down like lead into the chair I kick out for him. So, I say, folding the paper and leveling him with my attention, while my SIG semiautomatic is still, underneath the folded paper, trained right at his heart.

I slide my aviators to the top of my head and lean back as I study the man. Middle aged, probably hes realized hell be stuck in a shit job for the rest of his life and thought he could bet his way to a better life, and instead it got worse.

I stopped by your house yesterday to leave you a little present, but I was afraid your wife would see the contents, and considering the nature . . .

With my free hand, I slide over a manila envelope. His hands tremble as he opens it. The blood drains from his face as images of him and his bare-ass naked lover tumble out. Holy . . . he gasps.

Shes got you by the nuts, huh? I lean over so he can hear me well. My blood pumps hot as I think of my own nuts, and my own little sexy bare-naked problem, driving me more than a little crazy lately. You thought you could fuck this chick once and walk away, but you couldnt. She was wild and you liked that. She looked at you like you were gods fucking gift to womankind; you must have liked that too.

I pause for three heartbeats while my mark keeps getting paler and paler. I bet youre obsessed with the way she feels, the way her hair smells, how she smiles, how she walks, how she flirts with other fucking males . . . Well, Hendricks, Im here to tell you that you owe the Underground $168,434 for your gambling losses, and were ready to collect.

I lean back and slide my aviators back over my eyes. You cant keep your pussy on my money. Are we clear?

The guy is pale as a ghost, so its safe to assume were fucking clear here.

I fold the paper, SIG and all, into the pocket of my jacket. One of my men will meet you here, tomorrow. As I rise, I lean over and say, Ive got copies of these images. Youll get them when you pay up what you owe, but dont test me. I have a motivation as strong as yours. My mother. My freedom. And my own fucking nuts, in a twist over a girl with golden hair and green eyes and a smile that guts me. Yeah, Im in even deeper shit than this poor guy is.

When the target leaves, C.C. and I go check up with the team in silence. All of them are at the yacht, like some sick Big Brother sea home, including the surveillance cameras.

My father sits there, glad to be out of the house and getting the gist of the planning. As for the team . . .

Ive got tabs on Derek to make sure hes not betraying what he knows, but the rest, Im always watching, monitoring calls, replaying surveillance tapes. Blood oath is fineexcept I dont trust my own shadow.

The first I had to test was C.C.because hes the closest to a brother Ive got and I had to know if his loyalties are to my father, whos fed him all these years, or to his blood brother, whos been me.

If I told you this glass held a very deadly substance, and asked you to take it to my father, what would you say?

Id say yes, asshole, what do you think Id say? C.C. replies, sticking a toothpick into his teeth and letting it dangle there. Were outside my dads bedroom, where hes monitored by his medical team 24/7. The door is opened partway, and we can see my father talking to Eric, oblivious to us watching.

Good. Since youre the only one I trust, I say you better go. So go. I hand him the glass. Take it, discreetly.

He looks at me. I know how to be discreet. Just tell me. Will it be painful for the dude?

Not as much as he deserves, but yes. I edge back and watch C.C. maneuver the liquid into my fathers medications. The motherfucker carries it over, murmurs to my dad, Are you thirsty, Slater? and makes sure my father slowly drinks it. He comes back and sits. Its done, he says calmly.

C.C. is about as coldhearted as I am. Ice under all circumstances.

We sit in silence. It wasnt poisoned, was it, you dick? he asks, spitting out the toothpick in anger and betrayal.

No. I stand. I just needed to be sure.

I could so easily end my father. Slip something into the IV bags and hed be gone. But even a criminal has to have a code, and I have mine. I dont kill for pleasure or even for myself. I dont kill family.

That doesnt mean I dont think about it. Constantly, I do. Ive dreamed Ive killed my father many times and I wake up relieved. Until I remember I didnt kill himhes alive.

Rage pulses through me that I have to even look at him, let alone do his fucking dirty work.

C.C. follows me down the hall of the yacht, where were parked a couple of miles away from Los Angeles. One of the rooms is set up with phones and chartsthe gambling bookkeeping, tracking all the bets of every fight of the Underground. Were your guys, Z, you can trust us. I know its not in your nature to, but you can.

Im working on a couple of other names; in the meantime call Tina Glass. Tell her I need number ten in a compromising position with her. Shes not to deliver the evidence to anyone but me, personally. I have another target to work on this weekend. Ill be leaving townuse the code if theres an emergency.

Eric wants the rest of the team to support.

I dont need their support. But I need you to help me nail number ten. Hes squeaky clean and hes pissing me off.

I know what else is pissing you off! C.C. laughs.

I growl and tell him where he can shove it. He knows theres a skirthe suspects, at least, and trips me when he catches me staring at my phone unawares. I am never caught unawares. I trip him back then pin him up by the collar to the wall. Stop fucking with me, C.C.

Im not the one whos fucking with you. He taps my temple, then hisses, Get her out of there, dude, before your father finds out.

I feel so messed up Im getting pissed that I ever thought it was a good idea to touch her in the first place.

But theres that one phone I havent disarmed, and its only because I get these little texts from her.

Are you there?

Fuck, I wish I wasnt. I wish I wasnt sitting here, staring at this screen, poleaxed in the goddamned chest every time I read it.

I keep thinking I imagined you.

I havent answered her, but I feel like typing:

Princess, you have no idea how close youre dancing to the flame.

Its a day since this last text. I keep pulling it out to look at it, tempted to tell her to fucking forget about me, princess; Im going to use you, abuse you, and throw you the fuck away when Im done cause thats what I do.

Sometimes I tell myself if Id stayed one night longer, maybe even one fuck longer, I wouldnt be so obsessed. But she has a mouth made for oral, thick, full lips and a crazy hungry tongue. Fuck me, Ive been jerking off like crazy because the mere thought of her going down on me gets me hard.

But no. Even if shed sucked me all night long, Im sure Id still be hungry to push her head down and feed her more of me, make her eat me, every last drop.

The fact that I got pissed because our night together ended too soon, and I actually wanted to lie there, in that bed, for a couple more hours and see what it felt like to hold her for a while, only confuses me further.

I call Tina myself on my other phone. Tina Glass, aka Miss Kitty. Shes exactly who you need to frame a man. Shes clean, good looking, and lethal. My men call you?

Absolutely, she purrs.

I slip on my gloves as I talk to her. I want the evidence delivered personally to me.

With my absolute pleasure. Ill make contact when its done.

I hang up and stare at Melanies text again.

Just trash it, you fucking pussy.

Shes a hot button, but this is me.

Do I really need a hot button? Do I need to wake up in the middle of the night with a hard dick? A twenty-five-year-old with a bunch of whores asleep so near, I can probably stumble over a couple just by opening my bedroom door. But those green eyes like forests, that pussy tight around my cock. And those sounds she makes. Do I really have to torture myself, remembering how good it felt, how fucking clean and sweet she smelled?

This cant happen, I whisper down at my own phone, my blood roiling in my veins when I think of how stupid I was to think I could have one night, just one night, of what a normal man does. It cant happen again, I say.

I have a job to do. I AM the job.

My mothers life could be at risk, and so could anyones who has contact with me. My father could take anything Im interested in, just like that. Just to prove that he can. Just to try to own me. Doesnt matter if I want to layer my princess in fucking jewels when shes lying all sated and sweaty right next to me. Doesnt matter if I want to go back and watch those eyes go dark when I fill her, over, and over, and over. Doesnt fucking matter what I want. Only what I have to do.

Swiftly I pull the back off the phone. Cant happen to you. I start pulling the phone apart. It can happen to anyone but not to you. Whoever she ends up with, theres a ninety-nine point nine percent guarantee hell be better than you.

I pull off the battery of my permanent cell phone, remove the SIM card, the wire cage, until Ive got dozens of little pieces in my hand that will ensure I will never get another text from her and will ensure she never again hears from me.

Until I come to collect on behalf of the Underground.


: 2015-09-13; : 5;

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