Page 74 of Any Means Necessary

“After that, I’m going to feel you for the rest of my life.” It’s meant to be a one-liner, but there’s a moment of silence as the joke misses its mark and settles like a pandora’s box between us. Neither of us are brave enough to venture a look inside, opting to ignore it instead.

“You owe me another orgasm.”

“Not right now, I need a nap,” I yawn. His laugh rolls over me, vibrating in his chest against my cheek. His hand runs through my hair in lazy strokes.

“Don’t think I’ll forget, Dewdrop. I won’t.”

“Don’t think that wearing me out like this means you’re the boss of me,” I counter. This time his laugh is different, deeper—the way an adult laughs when they’re dealing with a child. Like I’m simply in denial of the truth.

Maybe I am.

We lay in silence, just enjoying each other’s company for a while—dozing in and out as we recover in our satisfied state—until I hear my phone chime with a calendar reminder. It’s time to get up. Shifting against him, strong arms tighten to halt my movement.

“Where are you going?” he asks deeply, pulling me back down as if laying on top of him is where I belong. I lift up to look at him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“To put my clothes back on,” I say, gently brushing a lock of hair back from his forehead. Callum’s gaze tracks me like a heat seeking missile.

“That’s a waste of time. I’ll just have to rip off anything you put on.” I can’t help my laugh, even though I know he’s serious. His hands roam across my skin, caressing and massaging every inch he can get his greedy hands on.

“Oh really,” I counter. “Sounds a little counterproductive since we’re supposed to start packing. Our plane leaves early tomorrow.”

“The plane leaves when I say.” His tone is final, not in any hurry to let me climb off of him. His body is substantial and firm beneath me, it’s actually really nice. I’m a little surprised he doesn’t feel crushed by my weight on top of him, especially after getting all hot and sweaty. My hair definitely needs a good scrub after being so properly and thoroughly fucked.

“It’s your schedule,” I concede without a fight this time, letting him pull me back down to capture my lips. His mouth moves against mine passionately, our tongues dancing together.

“But if you ever ruin a bra by ripping it off, I’ll have to kill you.” I mean it. “Good bras are hard to find in my size, and they don’t come cheap.”

“I’ll buy you a million bras, as long as I get to see you in them. I’ll unwrap you like a present.” He trails a hand up my side to palm my breast. His mouth turns possessive against mine as he gives my flesh a rough squeeze, eliciting a soft moan from me.

“I can’t argue with that.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Callum

Walking through the halls, none of Manici’s soldiers perceived me as a threat. They should. I left a gorgeous blonde bombshell naked in bed to come down here. I could be upstairs using those incredible tits of hers as a fucking pillow, but instead I’m down here dealing with this. Matteo should know exactly who he’s messing with, but it seems like he needs a little reminder.

“Open your computer, I want you to see something.” I say, standing in Matteo’s office. Matteo takes his time following my request. It’s a power play, trying to show who’s really in charge here. But he’s about to see. “I saw you talking to Lexie at the party.”

“I might’ve had a moment with—what did Liam call her again? Ah yes, the pretty pink nurse.” Matteo’s grin has my trigger finger itching to reach for my gun. I have a suppressor just for such an occasion.

“Lexie’s mine,” I state darkly. Either Matteo doesn’t hear me, or he’s too stupid to listen.

“She must come in handy a lot. Forget about being able to stitch people up, she’s got the most fuckable tits I’ve ever seen.” At his words, the edges of my vision blur with rage as I see red. Clenching my jaw, I take a slow controlled breath in an attempt to reign in my fury. I could put a bullet right between his eyes right now before anyone realizes my gun is drawn. If killing Matteo isn’t basically an act of suicide, he’d have sucked in his last breath.

My anger ebbs when he finally logs into his computer and the first image I sent pops up. It’s a photo of Matteo standing over a dead police captain with his smoking gun still aimed at the cop’s head. Matteo stares at the image, a flurry of emotions crossing his face before he has time to cover them. Surprise, confusion, anger.

Then the next wave of images pop up on his screen—raping a beaten prostitute, a drug deal, the list goes on. The next batch of photos never seems to end, his computer dinging over and over as image after image pops onto his computer screen. Each one a different indiscretion he or his family has committed. Each one something I fixed. Over eighty of them, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

“What the fuck is this, Russo?” Matteo demands, the confusion quickly shifting into intimidation and rage. Both are wasted on me.

“You want to share what’s mine, it’s only fair that I share something of yours.” I can see his tantrum rising, he doesn’t like being challenged. “If you or anyone else in your family goes near my pretty pink nurse again, I’ll bury you and the Manici name.”

“You think you can walk in here and threaten me?” His voice is rising as he stands from his chair, and slams his hands on his desk angrily. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

“Careful, Matteo. Don’t say something you’ll regret.” My voice comes out calm and cold, the underlying threat clear. “I’d hate to get angry, that’s when things start to get messy.”

Having heard Matteo’s shouting, the door to the office opens and Sal enters looking ready for a fight. “Everything ok, boss?” he addresses Matteo with his eyes on me. He puts on a brave face, posturing to be tough and dangerous. But I know the truth about him, like how he prefers his cars stolen and his women carrying leather whips.

“I was just leaving.”

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