Page 51 of Kings of Violence

Sierra follows suit, walking behind me. She’s tense now, closed off, but despite my anger at her, I wonder if she’s feeling my cum slide out of her tight little hole. “What are we doing here?” she asks. “The feds ransacked the place. There’s nothing left to find.”

“Kotya thinks there is something. So we will look,” I answer. I push against the door, and I’m surprised that it opens easily.

Apparently somebody forgot to lock up after they searched the place.

The interior is completely trashed. Desk and cabinet drawers have been pulled out, and papers and office supplies litter the floor.

“Close the blinds,” I say to Sierra as I walk deeper into the office.

“You’d think they’d have had the courtesy to clean the place up when they were done,” she says, casting her own glance around. Shaking her head, she goes to the blinds and closes them, cutting off most of the light from the office.

With the outside world safely out of view, I take my helmet off. Sierra does the same. Some of her hair clings to the nape of her neck thanks to the sweat that pooled there.

It’s far too enticing. I swallow the urge to brush her hair aside and kiss that spot again.

“The pigs don’t care.” I peer into one door, which contains a large meeting room. The electronics have been removed, leaving plugged in wires leading to nothing. I don’t notice anything obviously out of place, but I also don’t know what it looked like before.

I move on to the private offices, and I find the one that I assume was Sierra’s father’s. It’s the largest one, and it has seen the most damage. The computer or laptop that must have once been here has been removed.

Sierra follows me inside, and she scowls at the mess. “Why trash the place? They just made it harder to find anything.”

I shrug and bend down to pick up a discarded picture frame. I recognize Winters and a much younger Sierra on it. The older woman next to him must be his wife. There are three young men on the photo as well—a younger Sean, somebody I think must be Kyran, and then another one I don’t recognize. He’s standing next to a pretty red-headed woman, with a girl about four or five between them.

“Who’s this?” I ask Sierra, pointing to the unknown man. “Your cousin?”

She doesn’t respond. Her eyes are glued on the picture, though, and her eyes are glassy with what I think are unshed tears.

I don’t know what to say to that. I try to pull the picture away, but she reaches out to stop me.

“This is Neil,” she says hoarsely, taking the picture frame from me. “He’s… He was my brother.” She swallows hard, and there’s a distant look on her face as she stares at it. “He’s dead now. Has been for a long time. All of them. His wife, my niece…” She takes a deep, unsteady breath.

Another brother. I wonder what it’s like to lose a sibling, or even a father. I don’t know any of my birth family. I mostly lived in an orphanage, and none of the employees there were too fussed about any of us kids. I aged out at sixteen, and after that… Well, I’m damn glad I found Kotya.

“What happened?” I ask, fascinated by the hurt in her expression.

A shudder runs through her, and she closes her eyes. “They were killed,” she says, her voice flat. “The former Cresci don.” She lets out a bitter little laugh. “The father of my youngest brother’s boytoy. Isn’t it funny how that works out?”

“He took out a child?” I look at the photo again. “And your brother went on to fuck the enemy?”

Sierra nods slowly. “It’s complicated.” She swallows hard, her eyes still tightly squeezed shut. “Silvano Cresci is different from his father. He wouldn’t hurt uninvolved people, especially not… especially not children. When my father died and Sean was sent to jail, Silvano was the one to take over the Winters gang.” Her eyes flutter open, and tears slowly trickle down her cheeks. “I—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “He was supposed to protect us.” She lets out a harsh laugh. “Fat lot of good that did for me, huh?”

I imagine somebody murdering Kotya or Nikolai, and me then casually fucking their son or daughter. But that would never happen. I wouldn’t be able to forgive them, even if they claimed not to have been involved.

“Your brother is a traitor,” I say harshly. “But that seems to run in your family.”

I know it’s cruel to say it now, of all times, but I can’t help myself. I watch her face, eager to see every little expression, every line of hurt.

She flinches, looking down at the floor as she wipes at her tears. “I guess you’re right,” she says. I can’t read her tone. “I found them,” she says abruptly. “When they… I was the one who walked in on that.”

It takes me a moment to decipher what she’s saying. “You… found their bodies?” I ask.

Sierra nods, swallowing hard. “So much blood,” she mutters, and I don’t think she even realizes she spoke. She turns on her heel, walking toward the wall, and rests her forehead against it.

I liked her smile, when I first saw it. I liked her crying out while we fucked her. I liked her defiant glares.

But this? Her tears, her sorrow? They make something stir inside me that I’ve never felt before.

I go over to her and place my hands on her shoulders. I brush the hair away from her neck and lean down to kiss that spot as I’d wanted to. She smells of the new leather, the bike, and her own natural scent.

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