Summary:
It’s been months since Conall Morrissey was taken and tortured by his boss’s enemies. But even though everyone is living in peace, at least for the time being, Connall isn’t content. Sloan has been keeping him away from business meetings, and Conall begins to wonder if Sloan is growing bored of him already.
As a peace offering, Sloan decides to take Conall to Miami for Christmas. Getting away from the cold winter weather is the perfect way to relax and help Connall forget everything that’s happened. He wants to treat his pet, but Conall seems to be slipping further away, and Sloan fears his pet blames him for his kidnapping.
Can they find a way to communicate? Or will their first Christmas be their last?
Summary:
Sloan and Conall make a bet. Who will win?
This is a Killough Company novella. It takes place as book 3.5 (between The Assassin and The Apprentice).
Fionn Killough is a Killough Company man in both blood and loyalty. Sloan—his uncle and mob boss—is the only father figure that Fionn has had, and he would do anything for him. But when Fionn is assigned to sniff out a rat in the Company, he hesitates for one reason—Daire.
Daire Reardon is the Company’s second-in-command and the man Fionn loves. Fionn has spent eight long years yearning for a relationship with Daire, but Daire refuses to give him more than his body. Sloan doesn’t know the entire truth about their history, and Fionn would never reveal his darkest secret. As much as Fionn tries, he can’t hide his feelings for Daire, even if the other man won’t acknowledge them.
Daire knows Fionn wants more. He’s known since the very beginning of their physical relationship. As much as he wants to, Daire can’t bring himself to admit his feelings for Fionn, not when he has a secret of his own. The more time he spends with Fionn, the more his own loyalty to Sloan and the Company are put to the test.
The Killough Company is going to war. They’re being attacked on all sides. To succeed in their mission to find the rat, Daire and Fionn need to deal with their feelings before they destroy them for good.
The Apprentice is a 120,000-word MM mob romance. It has morally-gray characters who would do anything to protect the man they love.
The Boss's Christmas #1.5
Chapter One
Conall shivered where he lay on the bed, naked as the day he was born. His arsecheeks were bright red and hot, freshly spanked by Sloan after he’d purposely spoken back. Times like this were his favorite and Sloan enjoyed them just as much as he did, even if Sloan pretended it was a hassle to punish his pet. There was nothing better than the feel of his boss’s handprint on his arsecheek.
Sloan stood in front of the full-length, gold framed mirror, working his tie into a knot. “What’re your plans today, pet?”
Conall shrugged but quickly spoke when Sloan sent him a pointed look through his reflection. “Thought I’d spend some time in the sauna.”
“That sounds good.” He grabbed his suit coat from where it rested over the couch that sat near the mirror and slid it on. “I have meetings all day. We’re doubling our drug runs over the Mexican border.”
Conall turned onto his side and rested his fist under his chin to hold up his head. He’d barely been to any meetings with Sloan lately and wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Angry, mostly. “Isn’t it dangerous? Double the drugs make it harder to hide from the cops.”
“We have some border patrol paid off. The ones who aren’t interested in money love their families too much to talk.” Sloan strode over to the bed and leaned down to kiss Conall on the lips so passionately that Conall’s toes curled.
Conall moaned and accepted the kiss, savoring Sloan’s taste. Sloan tugged on the bright red collar around his pet’s neck and smirked. The scar over his left eye pulled at his skin with the movement of his lips. “Be good.”
“Can I take the Maserati for a drive around the Hamptons?” Conall fell onto his back and stretched, giving Sloan a view of his lean, naked body. He tweaked his own nipples, especially the one he’d gotten pierced a month ago, and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip because teasing Sloan was almost as fun as getting spanked.
Sloan slapped Conall’s thigh hard enough to make him hiss at the sharp bite against his bare skin. When another blow came in the same exact area, his cock twitched from where it rested between his legs.
“It snowed last night. I don’t like the idea of you on icy roads.” Sloan stretched tall, and Conall took the moment to stare up at the fine male specimen he shared a bed with. If anyone asked him, he’d still deny he liked a cock in his arse. The denial would be a lie, though. Everything about Sloan set Conall’s body on fire. He craved Sloan’s warm muscles pressed up against him during the night. He also enjoyed that cock nudging his arse early in the morning, just before Sloan fucked him like he usually did before he went to work.
“I’ve driven on winter roads before.” Conall rolled his eyes and stood, getting in nice and close to Sloan. He wrapped his arms around Sloan’s neck and pressed his naked body against Sloan’s perfectly straightened suit so he could kiss up his strong jaw. Conall whispered into his ear, “Come on. Let me drive it. I’ll let you choke me with your cock tonight if you do.”
Sloan sighed and curled his arm around Conall’s waist, dragging him as close as he could, their bodies huddled against each other. He grabbed Conall’s arsecheeks, kneading them with his fingers. Spikes of pained pleasure bit at Conall and he moaned. The rough texture of the suit grazed the skin of Conall’s belly and chest, and his hard cock got caught between them. “Why do you argue, pet?”
“Because it’s fun?” Conall grinned cheekily. “Or because I like the consequences.”
“Is this one of your games?” Sloan raised his dark eyebrows, a contrast to his bleached blond hair. “Do you want me to spank you again already?”
“Maybe later tonight, but I really do want to drive. I get bored on my own and you won’t let me see Terrance.”
Sloan grabbed Conall’s chin and tilted his head up. “I’m not stopping you from seeing him, pet.”
“You said you have to be with me.” Conall hated how whiney he sounded. Fuck. He wasn’t going to turn into one of the whores from the Exotic Virtue. All they did was complain about what wasn’t good enough for them, as though they hadn’t come from the slums and the streets into one of the nicest whorehouses in New York City.
“I did and I mean it. It’s dangerous.” Sloan’s narrowed his eyes. “I won’t have you disobeying me about this.”
“So when can we go there?” He dislodged Sloan’s hold on his chin and took a step back, with his arms crossed over his chest. “He’s my brother. I should be allowed to see him.”
“That’s also no longer your home.” Sloan’s gaze hardened. “You need to remember that, pet.”
“I know. You keep reminding me.” He didn’t mean to sound so bitter. Conall should have been grateful. Sloan didn’t just give him a mansion with a tennis court and Olympic-sized pool to live in, he gave him fast cars to drive and a team of staff to take care of him. He felt like a king but sounded like a bitch with too much time on his hands. That didn’t mean he couldn’t miss the Virtue or Terrance, though. As much as his brother frustrated him at the best of times, Terrance was the only blood family he had left.
Sloan looked at him longer than Conall felt comfortable with. It was that kind of stare that made him feel exposed, as though Sloan could see every thought bouncing around in his head.
“Let’s make a deal, pet.” Sloan stepped closer, the smell of his rich cologne flooding the air between them and making Conall unconsciously lean in. “I hate snow and the cold. I made plans for us to go to Miami for Christmas. Terrance can come with us for a few weeks.”
“Miami?” Conall grinned. “I’ve never been to Miami.”
Sloan smirked. “I know. I have a vacation home there.”
“On the beach, too?”
He touched Sloan’s chest, curling his fingers around the lapels of Sloan’s suit coat. Conall expected to be reprimanded for crumpling Sloan’s designer clothes, but he merely wrapped his arms around Conall’s waist, dragging him closer. Sloan’s lips touched the area beneath Conall’s ear, kissing and nibbling at the sensitive skin there until Conall was nothing more than a bundle of excited nerves, his cock straining and begging for attention while caught between their bodies.
“Technically it’s on Hibiscus Island, beside the channel. Nice clear water, sun, a boat to tan on.” The purring baritone of Sloan’s voice sent a shiver down Conall’s spine.
Conall turned his head and Sloan grasped his chin again, slamming their lips together so roughly that it hurt. Sloan’s nibbled at Conall’s bottom lip, tugging until Conall whimpered and held onto him tighter.
“I’m going to be late, pet,” Sloan whispered, swiping his tongue over Conall’s mouth.
“So? Isn’t satisfying your pet more important?” Conall led Sloan’s hand to his cock, and Sloan wrapped his long fingers around the hard flesh, jerking him off nice and slow.
“Mm. You could always come with me, suck my cock while I work.”
What a temptation. Conall had sucked Sloan’s cock during a meeting before, after the first time Sloan fucked him in front of his generals. There was this one day where Sloan had a serious business meeting with Puerto Rican drug runners about locations to stash their cocaine, when Conall grew bored and decided he wanted to suck Sloan’s monster cock right there under the desk. The runners didn’t say a word, but only because they weren’t dumb enough to. Sloan had an iron fist in all kinds of criminal business and pissing him off was bad for their livelihoods. So that meant they kept their mouths shut while Conall worked Sloan’s cock until his bitter cum sat heavy on Conall’s tongue. The other men carried on like usual, talking about what to mix the cocaine with and what kind of pull they had in the underground as Conall stood and sucked on his fingers, lapping up the traces of Sloan he’d missed.
If anyone had told Conall months ago he’d be on his knees in front of a mob boss and sucking him off while he attended meetings, he might have punched that person out. He was no whore. Except now he was—Sloan’s whore. His pet. Conall didn’t mind belonging to someone as much as he thought he would.
“Don’t change the topic.” Conall poked Sloan in the stomach. “I want to drive the Maserati.”
Sloan sighed. “Why must you be so difficult, pet?”
Difficult was demanding Sloan’s attention twenty-four seven. Difficult was never being happy with the expensive presents Sloan bought. Difficult was running to the cops about what Sloan was up to. Actually, that last one might’ve been downright stupid, not difficult. Conall wasn’t either of those things. He grinned and grabbed a handful of Sloan’s cock through his pants. “Maserati?”
“Fine.” Sloan blew out his breath through his nose. “You can drive me to work.”
“Really?” Conall smiled, trying to tamp down his enthusiasm. The Maserati could only fit the two of them, which meant there would be no bodyguards. They seemed to follow Conall everywhere since he’d been taken, even to the bathroom.
He must have been obvious because Sloan chuckled. “Don’t get too excited, pet. The guards can follow us and they’ll stick with you.”
“You’re no fun.”
“And you’re my pet. I’ll protect you at all costs.” He looked down at Conall’s hand, which had begun massaging him. “And now I’m hard. Make it quick.”
Conall shot him the most wicked grin he had and let Sloan’s cock go. “Nope. I need time for a shower.” He waggled his eyebrows as well as he could—he didn’t have the talent Sloan had—before he turned on his heels and practically skipped toward the bathroom connected to their bedroom. Sloan’s growl was the only warning he got before he had Conall pressed against the sink, Conall’s palms flat on the marble countertop with the comfortable weight of Sloan against his back.
His red arsecheeks protested the extra weight pressed against them, but Conall reveled in the bites of pain mixed with the pleasure. Sloan’s hot breath teased his ear, the one he’d gotten pierced at the same time as his nipple. He trembled and curled his fingers over the smooth surface. Hot pleasure rushed through him and headed south, straight to his already heavy balls. Then came the sound of the teeth of Sloan’s zipper, and Conall’s body turned into a blazing mess of lust and yearning for that piece of flesh trapped in his pants.
“Lube,” Sloan growled.
Conall whimpered and reached down to open the drawer below the basin. He’d already made sure to put multiple bottles of lube all over the house because there were times when Sloan would jump him when he least expected. It was better to have something prepared. Sloan wouldn’t hurt him, no matter how big and bad the mob boss acted, but Conall also didn’t want to waste time in finding lube when they could do it right then and there, as dirty and as fast as they liked.
Conall made a noise of triumph when he found the bottle and held it over his shoulder. Sloan ripped it out of his hand, and the sound of the lid clicking open made Conall’s belly knot with excitement. He had the feeling there would be no preparation this morning and he was right. Sloan shoved him over the basin farther, making his arsehole more accessible. The head of Sloan’s cock touched Conall’s hole, and then he shoved in roughly.
Everything about the burn of the stretch sang to Conall, from the pain to the undeniable pleasure that nearly made him come straight away. The sex they had the night before meant he didn’t need much preparation anyway, but the nips of discomfort were still there, reminding him of Sloan’s width. Between that and the stinging of his spanked cheeks, he was flying high in bliss.
“Fuck, pet. So tight. Always so tight for your master.” Sloan lay across his back and nibbled on his earlobe. “My little whore, only mine.”
“Yours,” Conall groaned, twisting his head to search for Sloan. Their lips touched and Sloan fucked Conall’s mouth with his tongue in a way that made Conall float. He was being fucked at both ends and he enjoyed every second of Sloan touching him, marking him, claiming him.
“Tell me what you want, pet.” Sloan stroked his cheek and jaw.
Conall smiled because he knew precisely what Sloan needed him to say. He licked his lips and reached between the sink and his body to grab his cock. Stroking his hard flesh in time with Sloan’s slow thrusts, Conall slid his eyes closed and groaned. “I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll feel you all day. Give me your cock, sir. Please.”
“Anything for you, pet.” Sloan grasped Conall’s hips, his fingernails digging into the grooves of Conall’s hipbones. His pace grew brutal, his cock slamming into him hard enough that Conall thought he might actually feel Sloan for the entire week. Sloan’s balls slapped against his skin, his fingers digging in so tightly that there wasn’t any doubt Conall would have bruises when Sloan was finished.
Conall held onto the countertop, but the entire thing shook every time Sloan fucked into him. The mirror trembled on the wall behind the sink and Conall stared into it, watching the way Sloan’s eyes narrowed in concentration and how he licked his lips as his gaze focused on where his cock speared Conall open. Everything about the mob boss was addicting, and Conall knew he’d become a junkie for the desire and punishment Sloan gave him. He needed this like he needed air, and that scared the fuck out of him.
Sloan looked at him through the mirror and smirked. “Do you like that, pet? Do you like feeling me fuck you wide, spreading you apart with my cock?”
Conall groaned. “Yes. Sloan, fuck me faster.”
Sloan slapped him on the arse hard enough for it to sting. “What have I told you about manners?”
Conall’s grin turned impish. “What are you going to do if I don’t use them, sir?”
“Don’t push me, pet. You will not enjoy your punishment.” Sloan’s palm came down on his arse again, this time harder than before.
Conall jerked forward, the edge of the sink digging into his hipbones. He didn’t care. He enjoyed the pain as much as he enjoyed a cock inside him. “I’m not going to say please, Killough.”
Sloan sighed. “You love testing my patience, pet.”
He pulled his cock out of Conall and grasped his arm, spinning him around. With his hands on Conall’s shoulder, Sloan shoved him to his knees. Conall went without a fight and like a good boy, he opened his mouth when the head of Sloan’s cock touched his lips.
Sloan cupped Conall’s cheeks and began to thrust into his mouth. His cock was so big that every time he slammed inside, he made Conall gag and choke on his length. Sometimes, Conall made a show of it, making extra noises because he knew how much Sloan loved fucking his throat. The majority of the time, he didn’t have to dramatize it, however.
Sloan pushed himself fully in between Conall’s lips and stayed pressed there until Conall couldn’t breathe and his face heated from lack of air. With his nose buried in Sloan’s freshly cleaned pants and his cock in his mouth, Conall was floating in pure ecstasy. He loved being choked, his mouth bred by Sloan’s monster. It was only when Conall slapped Sloan’s thigh that he moved again.
Spit dribbled from Conall’s mouth when Sloan fully pulled out, and his chest rose and fell in quick puffs of air. He wiped at his lips with the back of his hand and stared up at Sloan.
“Am I doing good, sir?” Conall reached down to wrap his fingers around his own length, tugging it gently. He kept eye contact with Sloan, waiting.
Sloan smirked and stroked Conall’s chin. “No. I haven’t heard a please from you yet, pet.”
“Oh.” Conall clutched Sloan’s clothed arsecheek with his free hand, dragging him closer. He couldn’t get much nearer than he already was, but Sloan stepped on either side of his thighs, with his cock slapping against Conall’s face. “You should punish me some more.”
A knock on the door echoed through the massive bathroom, and Sloan sighed.
“Boss? We should head out. The Ruiz Cartel are waiting.” Byrnes’ gentle voice couldn’t ruin that moment. He knew exactly what they were doing on the other side of the bathroom door. He probably didn’t care, either. Conall and Sloan had done worse in front of him.
“Give me a minute,” Sloan said.
Byrnes cleared his throat, ever the diplomatic head of security that he always was. “Boss, we don’t have a minute. Please get off and let’s go.”
Sloan clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked down at Conall. “Looks like you won’t be driving me to work, pet.”
Conall continued to jerk himself off lazily, pleasure building at the base of his spine. His cock twitched in his hand, balls drawn close his body. He felt strung so tight that with one twist of his fist he would explode. “Can I at least still drive the Maserati?”
Sloan pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. “Fine. Take Ronan with you.”
Conall’s eyebrows rose. Sloan had never really liked Ronan, not since he found out Conall and Ronan knew each other from high school. At first, the jealousy had led Sloan to claim Conall in the most public way, but in doing so, he had discovered a kink they both enjoyed. Public sex. Sloan had since calmed down with Ronan, but according to Sloan, that was only because he knew how much Conall needed him. Sloan had something Ronan didn’t, and Conall couldn’t agree more. The acceptance also had to do with the fact that Ronan had protected Conall when he’d been taken by an Italian.
Sloan rubbed his thumb over Conall’s bottom lip. “Open up, pet. Let your boss feed you your morning protein.”
Conall was more than happy to comply. He let his mouth drop open. Sloan jerked himself off until cum spurted from the slit of his cock, painting Conall’s cheeks and face with the majority of it landing in his mouth. He swallowed hungrily, the bitterness heavy on his tongue.
“Thank you, sir.” Conall blinked up at him.
Sloan’s smile made Conall’s stomach knot further. He loved seeing Sloan actually smile, and not smirk. “You’re welcome, pet. Such a good boy with good manners.”
Conall preened under Sloan’s fondling fingers.
The Pet's Play #3.5
Sloan Killough wasan arrogant bastard and there was no doubt about it. He knew he could get whatever he wanted and was proud of the fact. As much as Conall hated to admit it, he thought the arrogance was sexy as fuck.
Conall slid his way up Sloan’s body, kissing the line between his abs and pecs until he reached his mouth. He tugged Conall closer, and they kissed in a slow, deep caress that had Conall’s toes curling and his cock rock-hard. They lay in bed, Sloan on his back and Conall on top of him.
“I’ve made a decision,” Conall announced with a wide grin, tapping Sloan’s shoulder.
Sloan smirked and slid his hand down Conall’s back, scraping his fingernails across Conall’s skin in a tantalizing way that had him shivering with need. “And what decision is that, pet?”
“I want a car.”
Sloan’s dark brows dipped low and he cocked his head. “You have cars.”
Conall shook his head. “No, you have cars.”
“Which are yours, too, pet. Did I not tell you that everything that belongs to me also belongs to you?” He slapped Conall’s arsecheek hard, making him wince in both pleasure and need. His cock jerked and plumped until it was caught between them. His balls tingled and drew closer to his body, the need to explode building at the base of his spine. Sloan’s cock was wedged beside Conall’s, thick and hard.
“That’s different because they’re still yours.” He smirked and patted Sloan’s chest.
“Why do you want one?” Sloan brushed his fingers through Conall’s hair, scraping his nails across Conall’s scalp.
Conall shivered. “Because my Veneno brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like, it’s better than yours.”
Sloan rolled his eyes and slapped Conall on the arse hard enough to make him wince. “Lamborghini Veneno?”
“It’s my dream car. Nero Nemesis, baby! It’s like chrome black with green trims. Sorry, with Verde trim. That’s what they call it.”
He cocked his eyebrow at Conall and smirked, that supple mouth curving wickedly. Conall’s cock jerked at the sight. He fucking loved that expression on Sloan because it meant he was either going to be fucked hard or spanked, maybe even both at the same time. “What have you done to deserve a car of your own?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snorted. “I single-handedly saved your whorehouses.”
Sloan’s brow went even higher.
Conall laughed. “Okay, maybe not single-handedly, but our profits went up by five percent since I took over as your manager of escort services, right?”
“That could be for numerous reasons, pet. My money is on men choosing to fuck a whore instead of their spouse.” Sloan’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Rourke also dealt with the mess that you and Terrance made, which helped with profits.”
“I didn’t make a mess.” He shrugged. “Can’t talk for Terrance, though. Making messes is what he does.”
“And you had nothing to do with running the Virtue while he was manager, did you?” The knowing look Sloan sent Conall had him laughing.
“No, never.” He placed his hands under his chin, going for an innocent expression. “It wasn’t my fault at all. Look at this face, could I do anything wrong, Boss?”
The smack to Conall’s arse made him shudder, but his cock had the opposite reaction—it throbbed with need. He laughed and buried his face into Sloan’s neck, nipping at the skin until he’d left a nice mark anyone could see above the collar of those fancy shirts he wore.
“Don’t make me punish you, pet.”
The Apprentice #4
1
FIONN KILLOUGH
Dad’s funeral was held on a Thursday afternoon, sometime in February. I couldn’t remember the exact date, but when I thought back on it, I recalled the slate gray clouds. Rain on the verge of becoming ice dripped from an array of black umbrellas held by the grieving crowd. My mom knelt near Dad’s coffin, shoulders shaking. Droplets of water soaked into her black dress and the bun she’d pulled her brown hair into, but she didn’t care. When someone came over to her, she shrieked at them to leave her alone while she cried.
The only other thing I remembered clearly was my uncle, Sloan, stepping up to my side and laying a hand on my shoulder. Uncle Sloan’s grip was warm and firm, and I wasn’t afraid of him, even though we’d never spent much time together. Dad worked for Uncle Sloan, but I was never allowed to visit his house. Dad insisted that being there was too dangerous, and I never understood why.
“There are two types of people in this world, Fionn,” Uncle Sloan said.
I, at the age of four, tilted my head to stare up at him in wonder. Uncle Sloan didn’t look at me, though. His gaze was planted firmly on the coffin and Mom.
“There are those who take what belongs to them. I think of them as wolves, the predators who get what they’re hungry for. Then, there are the people who let life kick them while they’re already down, nothing more than sheep waiting to be eaten.” It was at that moment Uncle Sloan’s icy blue eyes slid toward me, and while I should’ve been scared, I wasn’t. I had the opposite reaction—I felt safe beside him. “Which one are you?”
I didn’t hesitate. “I’m the wolf, Uncle Sloan.” The word wolf came out like woof.
Sloan smirked. “Yes, you are, because you’re a Killough. An Irishman by blood. We were born to be wolves.”
I gripped the tumbler of whiskey until my knuckles turned white. I exhaled, caught between the urge to slap this prick stupid or to put a bullet in his head and end it all. Sloan hadn’t asked me to murder anyone, though.
He’d ordered me to reason with Cunningham.
“Two types of people live in this world, Christopher. The wolves, those who take what belongs to them, and the sheep, those who are more than happy to be the prey and beg for scraps.”
I didn’t miss Daire out of the corner of my eye, pursing his lips in amusement as he quickly took a sip of his drink from where he stood with his shoulder pressed against the wall. His dark hair was neat, with the longer strands on top pushed back, while his beard was short against his chin. He had a pair of his favorite sunglasses on and the blue lenses gave away nothing, but Daire knew the analogy well because Sloan loved to use it, especially when it came to business partners and those who worked for the Killough Company.
“Which one are you?” I finished, rocking my tumbler to hear the ice cubes clink together. The amber liquid sloshed against the side and the movement was entrancing, a well-rehearsed dance I’d become addicted to seeing.
I’d been drinking whiskey since I was fourteen. I’d gotten into Sloan’s stash and drunk myself into a stupor. Sloan had been furious when he’d found me, intoxicated and incredibly sick. As punishment, when I was sober, he’d taken away my credit cards for a month, leaving me bored. It could’ve been a lot worse, considering Sloan’s temper, so I’d considered myself lucky.
“Well.” Cunningham smiled and leaned back in his armchair. He dipped his cowboy hat forward and grinned. His Texan accent made the word sound more like whale.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Cunningham had a backward mindset and couldn’t get more conservative if he tried. I hated him.
“I like to think of myself as more of a rattlesnake.” His smile widened.
I agreed. Cunningham was a snake, a vicious one at that, and I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I peeked at Daire, watching the flicker of irritation that slipped across his handsome features. Like me, he wasn’t fond of Cunningham, and he’d offered to have my back while I was meeting with the bastard.
“Dangerous as all git-out.” Cunningham laughed and turned his attention to Daire, pointing a bony finger at him. “You’re the right-hand man, yeah? The one with a weird name. Saw it on the message Killough sent me. Is it pronounced Dare?”
Daire smiled sardonically, and I stiffened, even though Daire wouldn’t act against Sloan’s orders. He was the perfect soldier and a loyal second-in-command who’d been at Sloan’s side since the beginning. “Dar-ruh.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Most people knew him as Dare, but from what he’d told me, only his parents called him by the correct pronunciation, which was Dar-ruh. He’d explained once that after so many issues during his childhood on how to say his name, he answered to either. I preferred Daddy, if I was being completely honest.
If I had a choice about what I was doing right now, Daire and I would be upstairs in my bedroom. In that delicious scenario, he’d be fucking me until I didn’t know how to pronounce my name.
“What a weird one.” Cunningham stroked his gray beard and stared at Daire like he was a bug beneath his shoe.
Daire’s gaze turned deadly, and I sat up straighter, fingers twitching toward the gun I had hidden in the side of my chair cushion, not that I was sure I’d use it. While I’d practiced, I’d never had a reason to shoot someone. Not yet.
“It’s Irish,” Daire said.
“Ah, like the rest of you folks.” Cunningham nodded as if it all made sense. I couldn’t understand why Sloan wanted to go into business with him. I’d heard stories about Cunningham’s exploits, how he slipped cash into Mexican federales’ pockets to transport coke through small towns to get it to the American border, but Sloan already had ways to get drugs into the US. I couldn’t grasp his reasoning, but I didn’t dare ask, either. Sloan didn’t need another excuse to question whether I was the right decision as heir to the Company.
I shook my head and leaned back in my chair, taking a sip of whiskey. I cocked my head and studied the man in front of me.
Cunningham wasn’t very impressive and reminded me of an old Western movie star, with his big salt-and-pepper moustache and matching hair that hung loosely around his shoulders. The smug grin irritated me more than anything because the bastard thought he was better than me.
Well, fuck that.
“Mr. Killough has me here to make a deal with you, Christopher. You know the terms.” I pursed my lips and rested my whiskey tumbler on the arm of the chair, holding it there.
Cunningham laughed and dropped his booted feet onto the coffee table, dislodging dirt onto the pristine wood.
I gritted my teeth so tightly I thought I’d break them.
“Listen, boy, is Killough here? I want to talk to an adult, not a child.”
As far as insults went, I’d heard worse. Sure, I was twenty-six, but I wasn’t as useless as Cunningham thought. I had more experience than a lot of men my age in the mob.
Daire placed his tumbler on a console table and stepped forward to offer his protection, but I held up my hand, stopping him in his tracks. He lowered his sunglasses on his nose and gave me a pointed look, but I was already aware of his desire to break Cunningham’s neck for disrespect. I needed to do this alone.
Sloan gave us a job to do, and I wasn’t going to disappoint him. Not again. One day the Company would be mine, and if Sloan thought I wasn’t capable, he would give it to someone else . . . like fucking Conall, Sloan’s favorite little pet.
I would cut off my balls before I let that happen.
I leaned forward and took a deep breath to keep calm. “You will listen to me right now, Chris. You are in our house, so you will respect me. You know exactly who I am and what I can do.”
Cunningham shook his head and snorted. “Just because you’re Killough’s nephew doesn’t mean you get my respect. Earn it.”
“Fine.” I smirked and glanced at Daire.
We didn’t have to like Cunningham to do business with him.
“You want me to earn it, then here’s how I’ll do it. Let’s make a deal. We know about the drugs you’re running across the border. You paid the cops in Mexico well, but you’re having trouble getting the product past border patrol. Your last load was seized, am I right?”
His expression turned sour, bushy eyebrows furrowing. “Maybe.”
A spike of delight shot through me. “Then, this is what we’re going to do. You scratch our back, we’ll scratch yours. You can use our trade route to get into the US.”
He snorted. “Boy, New York’s too far for me to be sending my coke. It’ll be hit by the time I get it to Texas.”
“Not that route.” I leaned back in my chair and took another sip of my drink, letting the smooth liquid slide down my throat. “Florida is ours. It’s easier to get your product through there than risk the border patrol near Mexico. The men in Florida are on our payroll.”
“For now.” Cunningham’s grin returned. “You see, I’ve been hearing stuff about your Miami setup. Apparently, you’re not the only one with connections there. The Reyes Cartel has already offered me a deal, friend, and I like what they’re offering. What are you prepared to give me?”
I stiffened. Thiago Reyes and his band of pricks again. I had no idea why Sloan was letting them test his limits. If I was in charge, I would’ve destroyed their hopes and dreams in Miami already, but Sloan did everything for a reason, even if I didn’t know why.
“We would take thirty percent of your product.”
Cunningham’s laughter echoed through Sloan’s office. “Reyes only wants ten.”
Reyes wouldn’t stoop as low as ten percent.
Shooting to my feet, I glared at Cunningham. Anger sent a burst of heat through me, igniting my insides with a raging fire. My grip on my tumbler tightened until my fingers hurt. “I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you. Reyes won’t be in Miami for long, trust me.”
Cunningham’s smile grew smug again as he dropped his dirty boots to the floor and stood. He was taller than me, but not by much. “Now, don’t go pitching a hissy fit, son. Y’all are here to talk business and that’s what we’re doin’ .”
“We’re done,” I growled out, raising my chin. “If you wheel and deal with Reyes, you will lose a lot of money.” I stepped in closer, aware of Daire right at my back, lending me support. “Get out of our home and don’t come back unless you’re on your knees begging for a second chance.”
“That won’t happen. The Killough Company is losing its touch.” Cunningham shook his head, baring his teeth at me in a crooked grin before tipping his hat. He stalked through the doorway, and his men were waiting for him on the other side.
I watched him go, anger still stirring in my gut until it became unbearable. I hurled my tumbler against the wall. The glass exploded in every direction, but I wasn’t done. I spun around, picked up a vase of fresh flowers that sat on the coffee table, and threw it. The vase hit the wall to my left and shattered, sprinkling glass and water all over the hardwood floor.
“Motherfucking redneck.” I curled my hands into fists and stared up at the ceiling while breathing through the rage that had me in flames.
Daire turned me around and laid his hand on my shoulder, mouth pursed and thoughtful. His sunglasses were back in place, hiding his eyes from me. “What has Sloan taught you?”
“Patience,” I said between breaths. “But fuck Cunningham.” I uncurled my hands. “Fuck him and the horse he rode in on, Daire. He disrespected us and had the balls to bring up Reyes. Fucking Reyes. Sloan needs to kill both those pricks.”
“And he will. Everything Sloan does—”
“He does for a reason. I know. You don’t need to give me this lecture.” I shrugged off his hold and glared. “While Sloan waits, Reyes is making fucking fools of us. Look what he’s fucking doing right now in Miami.”
“Language.” Sloan’s strong voice filled the room.
I froze, fear striking me through the heart and making me wheeze in surprise as I glanced toward the door. My uncle stood there, arms crossed over his white dress shirt and deep red suspenders—which reminded me of Conall, who had a collar the same color that Sloan had put around his neck. Sloan was big on marking his slut as his property.
“Uncle, he—”
“I know what Cunningham is like. You don’t need to tell me.” Sloan slid into the office and closed the door behind himself.
I suspected Sloan already had men leading Cunningham out of the mansion and off our property, and I wished it was me so I could flip Cunningham the bird before he left. But Killoughs didn’t do that. We kept our cool under pressure and never let fear or panic influence our decisions. More lessons Sloan had taught me.
“He’s siding with Reyes.” I dropped my shoulders forward, disappointment stirring in my gut. I’d lost out on the deal Sloan had wanted, one of the first my uncle had entrusted to me. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be the boss one day. Fuck. I wanted the position, though. I deserved to lead. I was born for it.
And I was a Killough.
“I know.” Sloan stepped toward me and rested a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. The pressure of his hold had me relaxing, and Sloan let out a sigh. “Cunningham was always going to side with Reyes. I knew they had a deal in progress.”
I stared at Sloan in surprise. “Then, why did you ask me to make an agreement with him?”
“Because you need to learn a lesson, boyo.” He slid his hand to my cheek and patted it. “Not all men can be persuaded to see reason. Cunningham has always been stubborn, an old man in a young man’s game. He’s stuck in his ways. Racist, homophobic old bastard. I’m surprised he’d deal with the Reyes Cartel in the first place, but he’s always hated me more. Not because of anything to do with the Company, but because of who I share my bed with. Even though Reyes is gay, too, Cunningham’s making a point. What I wanted was to watch your reaction.”
“I let my anger get the best of me.” I didn’t need Sloan to confirm what I already knew—I’d messed up.
“Yes, you did.” He dropped his hand and straightened. “If you were on your own, that would’ve been fine, but you weren’t. Daire is still part of the Company, and you should never show those emotions in front of your men, no matter who they are.”
I swallowed around the lump lodged in my throat, disappointment clenching my insides. Another lecture Sloan had repeated ever since I’d taken on the role of his apprentice, and I still hadn’t followed it. “I’m sorry, Uncle. But don’t you ever . . . feel that way? Angry at these stupid men?”
Sloan stared at me for a long moment, light blue eyes curious, before he turned to Daire and nodded.
Daire backed out of the office, closing the door, and I watched him go, not quite sure what to feel. I was confident that Sloan knew Daire and I were fucking, even though he’d never said anything. Staring at Daire had become an obsession. I couldn’t stop since the night that began it all.
The memories of Daire taking my virginity made my skin warm and belly tight, and it was the beginning of our sexual relationship. Despite me wanting so much more, Daire had made it clear that it couldn’t happen. Wouldn’t. I’d accepted that sex was the only thing I’d get from him and continued to take what I was offered like a stupid schoolboy with a crush.
“Sit down,” Sloan ordered, startling me out of my thoughts.
I followed him and took the chair Cunningham had abandoned. Sloan took mine, crossing a leg over his knee and linking his fingers together in front of himself.
No matter what he did, Sloan looked like the boss. I longed to be like him: not fazed in the slightest by anything that happened. The only time I’d seen his facade slip was whenever Conall was in danger or hurt. His reaction said everything about how much Conall meant to him, and I didn’t think Sloan’s pet realized. He didn’t comprehend how lucky he was, because while I begged for scraps, he got all of Sloan’s attention.
“You can be as angry as you want, Fionn. You can throw things around your office.” Sloan glanced toward the littered pieces of glass, and I winced. “You can take a gun to a range and imagine Cunningham’s face on the target. Hell, tape Cunningham’s picture on it for all I care.” He smirked when I laughed. “But not in front of your men. No matter who they are or how much you trust them. They must never see your weakness. Emotions are exactly that.”
I quirked a grin. “And what about your pet?”
“What about him?” he asked, the lines around his eyes tightening.
I laughed again, this time less in amusement. “Come on. Conall’s not just a pet anymore. You love him, and our enemies can see it. That’s emotion. I saw you when the rogue Italians kidnapped Conall. How you felt because he was hurt.”
I expected Sloan would deny it, wave off the comment and tell me I was wrong, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded. “I admit that my pet caught me off guard.” His face turned soft, a rare sight on Sloan Killough. He lived to look fearless and in control, but now love had overtaken him. “You once implied, when we were in Miami that first year I found him, that Conall was made of stronger stuff. It was you who made me believe he could handle what I threw at him. But now I think you underestimate Conall.”
“I must have been in a good mood,” I grumbled.
Sloan raised his dark eyebrows.
I shut my mouth quickly.
“My pet is smart. If you gave him a chance, you could be friends. Instead—” He leaned forward, staring intensely at me. “—you choose to be a jealous child who’s afraid I’ll forget about you.”
“That isn’t—”
One corner of Sloan’s mouth curled.
“I don’t trust him.” At this point, I was repeating the same rhetoric over and over again, but I wasn’t sure if I believed myself anymore.
“Has Conall given you a reason to doubt his loyalty?” Sloan leaned back in his chair and laid his hands in his lap. “We’re not here to talk about my pet. We’re talking about you. Jealousy is another emotion you should never show. If I was to walk out of this office and ask any of the men how you feel about Conall, do you know what they would tell me?”
My stomach churned and I gritted my teeth. If I didn’t start getting my act together, Sloan would take my apprenticeship away from me for good. He’d never let me step up as boss if he thought Conall’s life was in danger. “That I was envious of him.”
“Yes. That isn’t how a Killough leads. Do you want to be the boss of this company when it’s time?”
“I do.” I sat up straighter. “It’s all I ever dreamed about.”
“Then act like a Killough,” he said. “Your father knew what was expected of us, and you should by now, too.”
Shame churned in my stomach, and I glanced away, unable to look at him any longer. Did Sloan know bringing up Dad would cause this reaction? Of course he knew. Why else would he do it? I hadn’t known Dad for long, but I had vague memories of him. I could still smell his favorite cologne, a cinnamon scent that hung in the air long after he’d left a room.
I pressed my lips together and gathered the courage to look back at Sloan. “He was a good man.”
Sloan’s mouth upturned into a rare smile. “He was the best. I loved your father.”
I nodded.
It wasn’t the first time we’d talked about Dad, but usually it wasn’t me who initiated the conversation. It hurt speaking about a man I never really knew. Being four when Dad died, I didn’t have many memories of him. My younger siblings had none, but after Dad’s death, Mom chose to take my brothers away from the life. Not me, though. I’d stayed to live out Dad’s legacy. More than that, I was going to be the boss one day.
Sloan stood, and I blinked at him when he straightened his suit. “You’re not Eoin and you never will be.”
I cringed. Ouch.
“But I don’t expect you to be. He was a great Company man, but he wasn’t passionate like you are about this business.” He laid a hand on my shoulder, his hold a comforting weight. “You’re meant for great things, but you’re young and you have a lot to learn. Your father worked for the Company because he was a family man who wanted the best for his wife and children, but you’re more than that. You’re a leader.” He leaned down to press his forehead to mine. We didn’t touch like this much anymore, but when I was a kid, Sloan would do this with me when I was upset about something. “Stop fighting your emotions. I’m not asking you to rip them out by the roots, but don’t let them rule you. It’ll get you or someone else you care about killed. It’s what got your father killed.”
I swallowed. Sloan had never told me the full story about how Dad died, only that he’d been shot in the chest by an enemy. He’d died in Sloan’s arms, begging Sloan to take care of his family, and Sloan had done that. He’d provided money to my mom and brothers, and he’d protected me while teaching me how to be a boss one day.
I never regretted becoming his apprentice. Not once. Not even when Sloan chastised or punished me for my wrongdoings. That was what fathers did, right? And Sloan was a better parent than Mom had ever been.
“Yes.” I bowed my head in respect. “Forgive me.”
Sloan gave me one more pat on the shoulder before he turned and exited the room, leaving me to wallow in a mixture of emotions. I’d disappointed him—again—and that hurt the most. Everything I’d done since I’d seen Sloan at the funeral was to make him happy, yet nothing seemed to work.
I followed him out of the office and into the hallway, walking past expensive artwork I had a feeling was obtained illegally by Oisín Kelly, the Company’s best thief. Not that Sloan ever asked Oisín where he got the paintings. Deniability and all that. Not to mention, no one would ever know they were the real artwork when Oisín was known for replacing them in art galleries with near perfect replicas.
Sloan stopped in the entranceway, in front of the stairs, and I figured out why when I came to a halt behind him.
Lor O’Guinn—a guest who’d been staying at the mansion for a while now, though I couldn’t figure out why Sloan cared about him—and Conall walked out of the dining room, deep in conversation. They didn’t see me and Sloan until they reached us.
Conall grinned when his attention landed on Sloan, his entire face lighting up. The red collar on his neck was bright against the black T-shirt clinging to his muscles and the faded jeans that molded to his ass. His sneakers were nearly the exact same shade of red as the leather around his throat.
Sloan opened his arms and dragged Conall into them, laying a hard kiss on his lips. Conall’s back arched as he got in closer and he hummed into the connection of their mouths.
Lor smiled but shifted his feet awkwardly at the display of affection. I didn’t know how old he was, but he had to be my age or younger, what with his baby face and those innocent brown eyes. Then again, he was also a strange man, with dyed-black hair bisected by a white stripe. I couldn’t decide if he was trying to be punk or a skunk.
I hadn’t spent much time around the new guy in the house and didn’t want to. From what Sloan had told me, Lor was a friend of Dr. Vail Mifflin, who in turn was the lover of four Company men.
Four.
I couldn’t even get the one man I was interested in to want more than sex. No, Daire preferred to see me as nothing more than a hole. A body. Daire’s excuses were always the same.
You’re Sloan’s nephew.
You’re the future boss of the Company.
I was tired of hearing it.
Bitterness coated my tongue and left a bad taste in my mouth. I’d tried so hard to pretend my feelings for Daire didn’t exist. We spent too much time together already, and Sloan trusted us to get the job done, but when the world around us grew quiet, when I had time to think, all I could focus on was Daire. How handsome he was. How much I desired his compliments and touch. And then, I remembered the heartache of rejection.
My mouth twisted, anger beating in my chest. Sloan thought me and Daire were fucking, and while he was right, that was all it was.
Fucking.
Sex.
Physical, because I wasn’t worth more than that. Daire didn’t want anything from me.
When we fucked, I was his, but only until we came, and then I was nobody but his boss’s nephew again. I wasn’t good enough to be in a public relationship with him, and it was that knowledge that had me choking back tears in the dead of night.
How pathetic was I? So desperate for a man who didn’t want me in return.
“Why are you still here?” I snapped before I could stop myself, glaring at Lor. Taking my anger out on other people was easier than facing my own sadness. “Don’t you have a home to go to?”
Lor startled, turning wide brown eyes on me. “I . . . .”
“He was invited to stay at my home by me.” Sloan filled in for Lor’s panic, his eyes narrowed on me from over Conall’s shoulder. His lips pursed together in a decisively irritated way.
I flinched.
“He lives in the city, and it’s a long drive to the Hamptons for the work he does with Vail, so I offered him a room.”
“Stop being a jealous brat,” Conall teased with a wink.
“Stop being a—” Slut. I cut myself off before I went too far. Sloan would kill me if I actually said it out loud, and by the darkening of Sloan’s eyes, he knew what I’d planned on saying wasn’t anywhere near friendly.
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” he warned.
I kept my mouth closed and bowed my head in respect, bitterness growing in its force to dominate my entire being. I’d been here longer than Conall and Lor combined, yet I couldn’t do anything right in Sloan’s eyes, and that was the worst part of the entire situation. They got more attention from Sloan. Maybe Sloan was right, and I was making my jealousy too obvious, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted Sloan to look at me and smile with pride, then tell me I was doing a fantastic job. Was that too much to ask?
“Pet, take Lor out to the garage. I know I promised to take you both out for a late lunch. I need to talk to Fionn for a moment.” It sounded like Sloan was kissing Conall again, but I didn’t dare look in case I said something I’d regret. Tension seeped into my stomach, burning as I kept my eyes on the floor.
Echoing footsteps caused me to finally glance up at Sloan and lick my lips nervously. “Sorry, Uncle.”
Sloan raised his dark eyebrows and stepped in closer, crossing his arms. “Stop with the apologies. I’m sick and tired of them.”
I winced. “Yes, Uncle.”
“Everything I say to you is being ignored.” The disappointment in Sloan’s voice had acid rising in my throat. “I tell you to control your jealousy, and a moment later you nearly insult my pet. Again.”
“I’m trying.” I hated how small I sounded, but it was hard to be anything else around Sloan. He loomed over me and made me feel like a child again, tiny and naive. I wasn’t those things anymore, yet Sloan still scared me.
“No, you’re not.” Sloan heaved a sigh and fixed his suspenders, and my attention slid to his fingers and the way they worked the material. “Maybe I was wrong, and you’ll never be ready to be the boss of this company.”
My heart stuttered and I sucked in a deep breath. “Uncle, I’m s—” I swallowed around my apology, anxiety making me sweat. The thought of losing the Company had my chest squeezing until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. “I won’t fail you, I swear.” My voice wobbled and I gritted my teeth, trying to stop the fear that made me shake. “I won’t. This is my legacy. Mine.”
Sloan got in close to my face, baring his teeth so angrily that I thought he was going to hurt me. I knew better, though. He’d always threatened and made the men think he’d punish me, but he never did. “Then, earn it. Right now, you’re acting like a child. You might be an adult, Fionn, but if you want this, you don’t have time to act blasé about the Company. The moment you let your guard down, someone will kill you, and I won’t have your death on my conscience, too. Not like your father. Do you understand?”
He straightened and took a deep breath, the coolness returning to his strong face. Any anger he’d shown had disappeared and the tightness around his sea-blue eyes loosened.
Shock had me frozen. “Uncle—”
“Stop disappointing me,” he said sharply, startling me. “Tomorrow, you and Daire will start looking for that rat again. Get me results or I swear you won’t like the consequences. This has gone on for far too long. Daire has a new lead. Follow up on it.”
Tears of frustration welled in my eyes and I blinked, trying to force them back. I wouldn’t cry in front of Sloan, yet the unbearable shame wasn’t easy to ignore. I couldn’t remember a time when Sloan had gotten this angry at me.
“Don’t cry. For fuck’s sake, Fionn. Don’t.” Sloan didn’t wait for me to say anything else. He slipped past me and walked toward the hallway.
When I heard the back door slam open and close—causing me to jump—I dropped my head and let the tears slip down my face. Fuck. I was a Company man. I couldn’t cry. Yet all the years of hard work and emotional pain had finally caught up to me. What would I have to do to make Sloan happy?
More footsteps had me rubbing the tears away from my face. I turned, sighing when I caught sight of Daire standing at the top of the split staircase. The white steps gleamed under the chandeliers, giving him an angelic glow like he was my savior. That’s all I needed. More reasons to be ashamed. Daire had never seen me cry, and now here I was, eyes red and cheeks stained by tears.
Daire took each step slowly, his hand skimming the black handrails until he hit the bottom. He stopped when he stood in front of me and reached out to rub his thumb over my cheek.
I stiffened, the warmth of Daire’s skin creating a ripple of pleasure that cannonballed through me. I couldn’t remember the last time Daire had touched me affectionally outside of the bedroom.
“You’re okay, boy,” he whispered, smiling. “He’s been in a bad mood this week. It’s not you. He’s worried about everything happening with the Reyes Cartel.”
I nodded, unsure what else to do, but I didn’t have a chance to consider Daire’s touch before his hand snapped back to his side.
“Meet me here at eight tomorrow morning. We have business.”
“Wait.” One word and it was barely whispered, the hint of hesitation in my voice making me flinch.
He stopped and glanced back at me.
“Tonight? I could really . . . use you.” I ignored the shame that curled inside me, but my hunger for him and the need for comfort took control. I craved more, so much more with Daire, but I’d take what I could get. Even if it was only getting fucked by Daddy Daire.
My Daddy was a completely different person from the Daire that I worked with. He gave me exactly what I needed and took care of me, while also fucking me until there were no anxious thoughts in my head.
“I’ll be back in four hours.”
Then, he was gone, out the front door, probably to go home.
I laid my hand on my cheek where Daire had touched me and sighed. I couldn’t remember the last person who’d made me feel this good. He brought all my emotions to the surface. When we were together, I could let go of my shame and anger.
I sighed and dropped my hand. Who was I kidding? He felt sorry for me, just like the rest of the crazy assholes in the Company. They all thought of me as weak.
Fuck them. I would prove them wrong.
Blood. Gore. Criminals. Romance.
M.D. Gregory loves it all. She believes everyone deserves to find love, even those characters with questionable motives. M.D. Gregory writes bloodier romances with more violence, kink, and bad boys. Her characters are not good guys. They live for danger and thrive on pain and retribution. But even those sorts of men fall in love, right?
She writes in various genres, from contemporary to fantasy, so no matter what your dark taste craves, you'll find it here.
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