Haunt (Bayonet Scars #6)

Amber pulls my face to hers, peppering me with gentle kisses. On the corner of my mouth and on my nose. Another to my brow and one to the corner of my eye. We’re both exhausted, but neither of us are in a hurry. I run my hands up and down her curves, loving every bit of flesh I’m fucking lucky enough to touch.

“Thank you for this, bringing us. I know you didn’t want to, but we deserve to be here.” Amber’s voice is soft, a far cry from the harsh tone she took me with earlier in the chapel. Or was it yesterday? Every bit of me is so fucking exhausted that I can’t tell anymore. I press my lips to her cheek and trail kisses down her neck to her tits. She’s always had great tits. They’re larger now, hang a little lower than before, but they’re still perfect. I missed out on her body after having a baby—both times—and that’s never not going to eat me alive.

“Mishy and I talked. You can’t trust Davey, just like you couldn’t trust Rig. They’re not good men,” she says slowly. I stare up at her and pin her to me.

“You say what you gotta say, baby. I’m here.” She’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what just yet.

“They used my sister. They broke her. What Rig did to her is worse than what he did to me.” Her voice is shaky now. The sorrow in her eyes breaks me as I try to wrap my mind around what she’s telling me. She places a finger over my lips and shakes her head. “We can deal with that history later. What I’m saying right now is that you need us. You can’t trust anybody is going to fight as hard for your life as I will. Me and your brothers . . . we’re it, baby. And I know you don’t want me here. I know you want me at home, nice and safe with our babies, but that’s not the woman you picked. You picked me because I can set your shit straight even when you can’t.”

“You shouldn’t have to live like this. All the violence and death. I’m sorry, baby. I want better for you, but I’m too selfish to let you go.”

“I was born into this. I chose this. Taking Rig out wasn’t even hard. It was easy. He threatened our son. I didn’t think twice. I just filled him with enough bullets to make sure he’d never take another breath. And for a brief moment, I liked the rush of it. I liked the power I had, being able to stop him. So you tell me, what am I supposed to do with that? How do I live inside the law, knowing I can end a man’s life if I want to? Knowing how it feels to watch a man die? How do I live normal when I have that coursing through me?”

Giving her a sad smile, I run my hands up and down her side before slowly peeling her panties off of her. I shrug out of my boxers and hover over her. A soft kiss to her lips and then one to her chest. I lick and suck at her nipples before moving lower. I keep my movements as slow as possible, almost painfully so, as I part her thighs and waste no time in dragging my tongue over her pussy. She grows wet with my attention. Lick. Kiss. Nibble. When she’s good and ready, I focus my attention on her clit. First with my tongue and, when she bucks against me and moans loudly, I wrap my lips around it and suck. She’s so wet and ready, her pussy throbbing for me. My dick is so fucking hard that I can barely think. Just before my woman explodes into my mouth, I withdraw and crawl back up her body. In one fluid motion, I’m inside her. The ring is still in my hand, hidden in my closed fist. We move together, restless and needy, but patient. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the coming days or weeks. I don’t know what life after Mancuso looks like. All we really have is right now, so I do my best to make it last.

I lather her with attention but not enough to push her over the edge. I impale her once and then slide out slowly and back in at the same leisurely pace. Sweet, sweet torture heats my body as we move. I want to tell her that I didn’t want her to come because I’m afraid of what’s going to happen. I’m afraid I won’t make it home. I’m afraid we’ll succeed and I’ll have to watch a young woman witness her father’s execution. I’m afraid of sending a young man into a war that ends with him taking over his family’s business. A move that places him in his father’s shadow and encourages the monster within. I’m afraid that when it’s all settled, even when our days are normal and our nights are full of peace, that we won’t recover. We’ll jump at every sound. We’ll destroy our enemies before we know the threat level. We’ll tear ourselves apart because we no longer know how to just be—we only know how to wade through blood.

J.C. Emery's books