Page 80 of Wicked Lies

Samson’s way of saying he cared.

“Like I said, shit’s been crazy.” Then I spent the rest of the night balls deep in a woman I have no business being with but can’t give up.

Nick sucked in a breath. “I’m gonna talk to Frank, call a truce until I get back to New York.”

“A truce? I thought you said you weren’t backing down.”

“I’m not, but if he’d send Carlos after me in my own condo, he’s getting desperate, and there’s no telling what the crazy fuck will try next. I’d just like to get my ass to Brooklyn in one piece.”

That truth hung in the air between them.

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. I’m gonna grab the first flight I can.”

Nick swiped away the call, digested Samson’s words, and then headed for the bed.

“Everything all right?” Cheryl rolled over to face him.

He smoothed his hand down her thigh, then hauled her on top of him. She tightened her legs around Nick, and once again, he became hard a steel. Cheryl rotated her hips, just a whisper away from where he wanted her. She ground over him harder, and he cupped her hips. He arched his back and rocked, taking her deeper. The relief was short-lived because she filled him with such want it made him helpless to do anything but surrender to her needs. He angled himself, hit her spot, and thrust harder. No teasing, no mercy. With her leg hitched up, every inch of her gloved him until all that mattered was the smack of their bodies.

“No more leaving me.” His warning gasp grazed her ear. “And no more keeping secrets.”

“Never.” She squealed when his hand slapped her ass.

Every tense, rigid muscle thrust faster, letting her know she could never leave. His lips touched hers, fierce and claiming, swirling together, stealing her air, then easing back to nip at her swollen lips.

“Look at me, baby.” His hand slapped her ass cheek again. “I want eyes on me when you come.” The mounting pleasure tightened within him as his hips lost control. Nick squeezed her ass harder, knowing he was leaving his mark. “Fuckin’ perfect. Yeah.”

His strangled growl undid her.

One more thrust, and she unwound and spiraled. The bolt of pleasure had her clenching around him. He gasped, their skin slick as he gathered Cheryl to him.

“You’re mine . . .” he panted into the softness of her neck. “Forever.”

25

Two days later, Nick pulled up to the side of Frank’s warehouse in Brooklyn. After a tension-filled phone conversation, Frank agreed to a truce and a meeting. Samson wasn’t happy Nick wanted to do this alone, but it was the only way since Frank made it personal. With all the shit he pulled in Miami—snagging Cheryl into his web and then putting a hit out on him—this bullshit had to be handled one on one.

Nick adjusted the gun tucked into his waistband. He didn’t have any illusions about how it could go down. It was the main reason why he arrived early and planned on being in Frank’s office waiting for him. Nick and Samson were willing to give up their percentages of the Oasis, and hopefully, Frank would cut them loose, and they could sever any and all ties. He hoped he could reason with Frank one last time, but he didn’t have any doubts about the meeting falling to shit. Frank held onto the old ways, preferring violence over compromise, and if it came down to it, Nick was willing to fight. One way or another, Nick would have his freedom by the end of the night.

Shadows covered the end of the dark pier, and a foggy mist drifting off the water made Nick flip up his jacket collar. The halogen lights cast a dim light over every squeaky board and broken brick leading to Frank’s office. Back in the day, he and Samson were just street punks looking for a way to get by, looking for a way out. Frank took them in, but he taught them too well, and now he didn’t like their success.

A noise to Nick’s left drew his gaze deeper into the shadows. He squinted against the blackness as he closed his fist around the butt of his .45. A dark form materialized under the yellowish glow of the lights.

“What the hell?” he hissed.

“Thought you could use some backup.” Cheryl planted her hands on her hips.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I heard you on the phone with Samson earlier.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Your voice carries.”

“No fuckin’ way.” Nick jerked his thumb toward the street. “You can get the hell outta here now.”

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“Your damn fuckin’ right I am,” he rasped through the mist. “You shouldn’t be here.”

---