Page 65 of Hateful Union

Raylee was right. I’m a fucking bastard.

“Sorry.”

“That says more about what you're feeling over this shit than anything. You’ve kept it boxed up and finally today you let it loose. I will never choose any of my children over the other. I love you all the same, I’m sorry that you don’t feel that way.”

Christ, can I feel any more of a prick?

“Da, it was a shitty place for my mind to go and I can tell you that Raylee set me straight before I even called back.”

He chuckles. “Have I told you how much I love that girl? Damn, she’s strong and she doesn’t take your shit.”

“That’s why I love her. How’s Holly?” I question, needing to make sure that she’s okay.

“She’s grand, just a graze, nothing more. She’s fighting fit this morning.”

“I’m coming out there, Da. Raylee agrees.” My tone brooks no arguments.

“Alright, son, book your flight and let me know when you land.” The tension’s gone from his voice and I know that things between us will be alright.

“Will do, talk to you later.” I end the call and make my way back to Raylee, who’s currently bent looking into the fridge, her arse sticking out in the air. As soon as I’m close to her, my hands skim across her arse.

She turns and I pull her into me, my lips crash against hers and I kiss her. God I love that little whimper she makes whenever I sweep my tongue into her mouth. My hands roam her body, I love every fucking inch of it, I’ve also worshiped it. I’ve seen all of her tattoos, all four of them, along with her scars.

“Mal,” she moans. “I need you.” She grinds against me and my cock hardens.

Fuck, yes. This is the best part of the day when I’m inside of her.

I lift her into my arms and walk towards the bedroom.

Raylee’s head rests against my shoulder, her body soft against mine. The trust she has in me is humbling. Never have I felt more powerful than having her love and trust.

I’d die to protect her, I’d do whatever it took to make sure she stayed safe.

She’s my redemption. This life that I’ve lived, I’ve killed more people than I can remember. But the utter beauty that is Raylee. Fuck. Sheer perfection. My solace.

26

Raylee

Igroan as I toss in the bed. It’s been nearly two weeks since Malcolm left to go to America. His grandfather was killed and Mal’s even more pissed that he wasn’t informed about what was happening before it was too late. Mal wanted me to go with him, but we’ve still not found Bentley and I can’t leave, not until I find him.

With each day that passes my hope of finding Bentley alive diminishes. I should stay strong, I should be positive. But I’ve seen the devastation that my father and his organization has wrought and I know deep in my heart that if Bentley found out that my father was coming for me, he’d step in. I just pray that if that’s what happened, it didn’t cost him his life.

I’ve yet to see my other brothers. The last I heard Wayne and Francis were still locked up and awaiting trial. Stupid arseholes had weapons on them and were in the club where there were drugs and even more weapons. The agents that were here with Mum have told me that depending on what else they find out, that both Wayne and Francis won’t serve more than five years.

Jake and Kiro are currently keeping a low profile, something that’s not in their nature. Both have texted me and I’ve replied letting them know that I’m safe and okay. Kiro checks in daily, he’s worried about me, he’s also been keeping me informed of what’s been happening since everything went down. The cops are still unable to find Dad or Ashton and that’s made Malcolm anxious. Kiro has also started to take over my father’s business, thankfully not the women or trafficking, but the drugs, guns, and money laundering. He’s also let me know that he’s proud of me and that what I did was the right thing.

I yawn and stretch before reaching for my phone. I glance at the screen and see that it’s eleven in the morning. Damn. I overslept. I’ve not been sleeping great since Mal’s been gone. It’s hard to be around someone twenty-four-seven and then all of a sudden not be around them at all. I miss him.

I’m startled by a knock on the door; I climb out of the bed and pull on Malcolm’s t-shirt. It’s huge on me and stops mid-thigh. I love wearing his tops, especially when he’s not here, it makes me feel closer to him.

The knocking continues and I pad towards the front door. I’m not expecting anyone. No one other than Malcolm and his men know that I’m here. The knocking is getting louder and I peer through the peephole and see a man dressed in a black t-shirt that has a florist’s logo on the right breast, he’s also wearing black shorts, and a black baseball cap that also has the florist’s logo on it. In his hands is the biggest arrangement of flowers that I have ever seen.

I open the door just a fraction. “Hola,” I say with a smile.

“Hola, señorita.” His thick Spanish accent is cheerful. “Are you Ms. Silver?”

I nod slowly, my gut tightening. Something about this situation is screaming at me.

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