Redemption: Savage Duet: Part One Read online

  What’s Inside

  I grab her arm and pull her back down. “I’m not here for the jacket, Kerry.”

  Her lips part and the cute tip of her tongue darts out, licking them. “Then, why are you here?”

  I could cut the air between us with a knife, it’s so thick. “What do you think?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” She swallows visibly.

  “Why don’t I show you?” I say and lean in, my gaze never leaving hers.

  Her pupils dilate and a gasp escapes her. I lean in closer, until her face is a blur, until her rapid breaths fan my lips. When she doesn’t move, I close the distance and taste her. Spices, flowers, and that unique essence that is her and her alone. I tease her lips open, and revel in how she melts against me. She’s adorably shy. I don’t know why, I’m not usually very considerate, but I strain not to scare her. I’m lost, though, when she lays her warm little hands on my thighs. I wrap my arms around her and scoop her into my embrace, straddling her over my lap, never breaking the kiss. She yelps, but doesn’t object. Her hands caress along my arms, feeling her way over my biceps. Cupping her ass, I pull her close, pressing my hard cock against her hot pussy. Fuck me if she isn’t damp through the fabric.

  I rock against her as my hands find their way under her shirt, find her warm soft skin. She gasps and writhes, and I know she’s mine. My hands reach all the way around her waist, such a delicate creature she is. I stroke along her sides, up to the swell of her breasts. To my great surprise, she’s braless. I can’t help the groan as I cup her breasts, circling her nipples with my thumbs. She mewls in my mouth and grinds against my cock. I exhale with a shudder and pinch her peaks, making her jerk and moan.

  “Oh my God,” she gasps.

  “Take off your pants.” I grab her hips and push her up, putting her in front of me.

  She trembles as she unzips, her eyes hooded. My cock strains in my pants and my belly aches. Fuck me, I can’t remember when I actually wanted someone like I want her. Is it the thrill of the hunt? I’ve never fucked someone I was ordered to kill.

  As she shimmies out of her pants and steps out of them, the scent of her arousal hits me like a punch to my stomach.

  “Stay. Don’t move,” I growl.

  I take in the vision before me, the flustered girl, her glazed eyes, her shallow breaths. I could pull out my cock, push her panties to the side, and impale her in a second, but I want to savor this. She won’t be mine for long.

  I reach for her, hesitate, my hand hovering over her smooth thigh, feeling the heat build between us. Her eyes dart between mine, down to my hand, and up again, her breathing coming in short gasps.

  I move a fraction closer and let my palm rest on her thigh, the tips of my fingers millimeters from her panties. As I move my hand, letting it slide along the inside of her thigh, she gasps and begins to tremble. Her response to me is fucking amazing, and I haven’t even touched her yet, tasted her, fucked her. I hold her dark, widened eyes as I slide in between her thighs, rub along her slit through the fabric. Her nostrils widen, her breath hitches, but she doesn’t break her gaze. Her eyes nearly do me in. I’m so hard I could burst.

  Redemption

  Savage Duet: Part One

  Nicolina Martin

  Published by Blushing Books

  An Imprint of

  ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

  A Virginia Corporation

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  * * *

  ©2019

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  * * *

  Nicolina Martin

  Redemption

  * * *

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-64563-066-1

  v1

  * * *

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  Contents

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Part II

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgement

  Nicolina Martin

  From a single moment on, my life was forever changed,

  Like everything I previously knew had suddenly been rearranged.

  * * *

  Change What Is To Come

  By Anonymous

  Part I

  The End

  Chapter 1

  New York

  Christian

  The city that supposedly never sleeps is slowly coming back to life. It was pretty dead when I woke a couple of hours ago. At least this stiff upper lip part of Manhattan was. I sit on a bench at the edge of Central Park, a cup of coffee in my hand. I’ve spent the night at a hotel, I’ve run, showered, and now I’m overlooking the entrance to the office building where my target works. Mr. Corben Olsen. CEO of a Fortune 500 company situated on the Upper East Side. He’s a short man in his fifties, donning a toupee, working out every day to stay fit. He’s on his third wife and has chosen to start over with a second set of kids, the dumb fuck. His wife is almost a head taller and seventeen years younger, a former Victoria’s Secret model. She has a lover, a cop who’s investigating Corben’s business. That’s intriguing, but has nothing to do with me.

  Corben Olsen is a crook whose business is going to shit. No bank with any kind of morals is lending him any more money, so to be able to maintain his lavish lifestyle, he had to go to the immoral, and turned to my uncle, Mr. Luciano Salvatore, the most ruthless mob boss on the West Coast. The only mob boss on the West Coast after we eliminated all competition some years back.

  There are plenty of underground lending businesses in New York. My guess is he turned to someone far away so that he’d feel safe up there, in his tower.

  He isn’t.

  Payment has been due. He isn’t delivering.

  This is his first warning. It’s gonna hurt a little. We’ll see if he gets the message, or if I’ll have reason to come back. My gut tells me I will.

  I glance at the clock. Seven fifteen. I wonder if my brother is awake yet. Oh, fuck it. If he isn’t, I’ll wake him. I’m tired of hotels, and he owns a whole floor in a building down in Tribeca. He can squeeze me in somewhere. Draining the last of the coffee, I haul up my phone and thumb through my contact list, praying he’ll be home, or I’ll be pissed. A pissed off Christian won’t be good news for Corben. A pissed off Christian won’t hurt Corben just a little.

  “Chris! To what do I owe this honor?” Nathan’s voice is hoarse. He sounds beyond tired.

  “Tell me you’re in the big apple.”

  “I
’m in a cab. Just left JFK. Got a foggy view of Manhattan across the river. Why?”

  “I’m passing through. Need a place to crash.”

  “What’s wrong with hotels, dude?”

  “Brother—” He knows I hate them. I’m always traveling. I miss my house like fuck whenever I’m away. Someone else’s home is the second best.

  “I’m just kidding. Of course you can come by. Wanna hit the town tonight?”

  “Definitely.”

  “All right. Gimme a call when you get in. I’m not picking you up. I’m fucking beat.”

  I don’t bother mentioning I’m already in town. I do worry a tad about Nate. He’s exhausting himself with work, always has. He should sell off a few homes, decide where to live, slow the fuck down.

  “How’s the old lady? She with you?”

  “Nah, Sydney’s busy running her hotel.” His voice brightens, as always, when he talks about her.

  “She’s one of a kind, isn’t she?”

  A stab of jealousy hits me. My wayward younger brother has found the love of his life. It struck him out of the blue. No one expected him to ever find the one, to settle down.

  “She is.”

  “I’m happy for you, you know it.” On the other side of the street, I see Corben walking briskly along the sidewalk. “Talk later.”

  I disconnect as I watch Mr. Olsen entering the building. Anticipation builds in me as always before a hit. It’s not time yet, though. I’ll catch him either when he works late, or when his wife leaves for her lover. I expect to be here a few days.

  Corben is blindly in love and doesn’t suspect a thing about his unfaithful wife. I wonder if it would be too cruel to enlighten him. Or maybe it will be enough with a couple of broken fingers.

  I don’t believe in love. There is no such thing. I’ve never seen it, never felt it. It’s nothing but chemistry, people’s need to copulate. It’s all ingrained in our DNA.

  But love?

  I care for my brothers, Nate, Matteo, and Luca, and they care about me. We’d die for each other. I don’t know if that qualifies. Maybe what I feel for my sister is something close to ‘love’. Or maybe it’s nothing but a strong protection instinct because we share a set of genes?

  I glance at the clock again. It’s way too early to call her, and she’ll probably be in class in the morning.

  Standing, I toss the now empty cup in the nearest bin, and aim for Mr. Olsen’s building. Time to check that everything is in order, that the keycard with my picture and my fake name takes me exactly where I want it to.

  I spend an hour playing pretend, coming and going, taking note of emergency exits and alarm systems. When I’m satisfied, it’s still early, but I decide to go for breakfast, check out of the hotel, and then hit up Nate.

  It’s a beautiful day. Early autumn. The air is still crisp despite the sun having climbed over the canopy, but it warms the skin a little and I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling. I have my bags by my feet and wait for the car the hotel called. I like the seasons. In San Francisco it varies a little, and is mostly foggy. Nothing like here.

  In the cab, southbound, I call our sister.

  “Chris!” She almost squeals.

  “Angel.” As always, my heart warms at hearing her voice. This kid, my much younger sister, the youngest of all five of us, is a unique flower in this family. Artsy, headstrong, living her own life and refusing to conform.

  She giggles. “How are things?”

  “Same shit.”

  “Are you in town?” She sounds hopeful which makes me smile.

  “Yeah, wanna meet up?”

  “Why are you in town?” Her light tone turns wary.

  I hesitate, contemplating for a moment if I should make life easy and just lie, but decide against it. “Business.”

  She hates it. She hates what the whole rest of her family does for a living, hates our dirty money, and the wealth that comes from hurting other people. I admire her stubborn will to support herself, working two jobs, as she studies photography.

  “Are you bringing any shit to my doorstep?”

  “Of course not. Never.”

  She is silent a few beats. “Aren’t you ever getting out, Chris?”

  I sigh. “You know I can’t.”

  “You—”

  “Look,” I say, interrupting the lecture I know will come, “let’s talk tomorrow. When can you meet up?”

  She scoffs. “Fine. I have the morning off, then school, then work until late.”

  “Still serving the filthy rich?”

  “Still serving the undeserving, yes.”

  Angela works part time in a private club, serving drinks, scantily clad, but as far as I know she isn’t offering herself up, and isn’t expected to. For that, I’m eternally happy. I’d break a lot more than a finger on anyone who put their filthy hands on her. As was proven when a neighbor assaulted her. We still lived in the seedier parts of Chicago back then. She was sixteen. Nate and I beat the fucker to a pulp.

  “I’ll buy you breakfast,” I say.

  “All right, cool. Look, I gotta hop in the shower, or I’ll be late.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  She scoffs and hangs up.

  Yeah, I know. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do. Bad advice.

  At eleven o’clock I make my way past the door guard in Nathan’s building. He’s got a silly red uniform, no gun, no club, no cuffs. No nothing. He’s just for show. I could take him down in a second. Ignoring the old elevator with its black, steel scissor door, I take the stairs two at a time and slam my fist on Nate’s door.

  My slightly younger brother is uncharacteristically disheveled.

  “Nate. You look like shit.”

  “I spent a few days in Houston cleaning up a mess. It’s nothing, but yeah, didn’t get much rest. Want something to drink?” He cocks his head toward the kitchen.

  “Wanna lighten your heart?”

  “That’s a firm no. Want a beer?”

  “Sure. Got anything else other than Mexican? It tastes like water.”

  “Nope.”

  I shrug and accept the bottle. Nate has his little getaway in Mexico where he spends as much time as he can. He used to be there a lot more, diving, drinking, doing tourist chicks. Now he only goes there whenever he can get the love of his life to go with him. He’s turned into a different man. It’s taken some getting used to, but I like it. He seems content.

  His loft is out of this world: huge, floor to ceiling windows in three directions, a sliver of a view of the river. Like himself, it’s a thing of ridiculous beauty. He was born with everything. I don’t look like a slug myself, but he’s supermodel material, the fucker. I envy him sometimes, but I’d never admit it. He works hard for our uncle, just like the rest of us, but he has somehow managed to distance himself too. These days there is no longer any dirty business for him, only the legal side of things.

  I dump my bag in one of the guest rooms and take a long, hot shower. I’m frustrated. Watching the wife and the cop fuck each other’s brains out last night left its mark. It’s been a while, but tonight I’m fucking gonna make a New York socialite scream. The thought makes me hard, but I decide to save it, to let it brew. The release will be much sweeter that way.

  We spend the afternoon doing absolutely nothing. Vietnamese take out, reruns of old TV-shows, catching up on each other’s lives. I like it here. I like the city; I like the distance from our uncle, Luciano Salvatore, head of the business, capo of all organized crime on the West Coast. It would be nice to see more of Nathan and his chick. And Angela. I don’t think Salvatore would let me move from San Francisco, though. I’m in too deep, too snared in his claws.

  “So, who are you beating up this time?” Nathan has just exited the bathroom, his hair soaked, dripping on his naked shoulders, a white towel tied around his waist. I’m putting on my shirt, way ahead of him in preparations. He wanted to go to a restaurant. I demanded a c
lub. I’m no family man. I need a fucking release tonight, or I’ll go crazy. Willing chicks don’t magically hang around fancy restaurants.

  “Corben Olsen. Owes a lot of money. Late. He needs a little push.”

  “Little? Luci doesn’t send you for ‘little’.”

  I shrug. “I was available. I’ll break something and let him know I’ll be back if he doesn’t pay up. I probably will be back, because I’m pretty sure he can’t.”

  “You going back home to the foggy city after this job?”

  “Yeah, unless I get sent somewhere else. I’m like a fucking nomad, man.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “I know the feeling. I’ll be with you in a minute, then we’ll go find you a woman.”

  “You know me too well.”

  I give my brother a nod before I venture deeper into the club. Only a few blocks from his place. Even though a block in the Big Apple can be really fucking huge, it was still walking distance to the newest, hottest place, where everybody goes.

  She’s standing by the bar, long black hair, tan – when most women these days stay out of the UV-light –, legs for days, and a little golden-yellow dress. She stands out like a beacon in a place where most play it safe and wear black. Women think they’re so edgy in their little black dresses, but it’s the colorful ones I look for. They’re more adventurous, more into playing the kinds of games I like to play.