Sparrow

  I needed to start doing the same, if I was going to survive Troy Brennan.

  “You stupid little banshee,” Connor growled. He was panting like he had just completed a Tour de France.

  This time he grabbed me harder by the arm, He’d been caught losing me, and it looked like his fury had boiled to a point he couldn’t control. He shook me aggressively just for kicks, then shook me more as he led me God knows where.

  I was almost relieved when I spotted the car he’d driven me here in. Almost. I ducked my head and dodged a bruise as he threw me into the passenger seat like I was his duffel bag.

  By the time, I righted myself, he was already behind the wheel and starting the engine. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded.

  He just pumped the gas in response, to spite me.

  "Where are you taking me?" I tried again.

  "Back home," he answered. "You need to pack. You're leaving for Miami."

  My throat tightened. "Miami? Why? When? For how long?"

  Connor kept on staring at the road. He looked fed up, gripping the steering wheel like he wished it was my neck. "Ask your husband," he said through clenched teeth.

  I decided to do just that. I sent a quick text to Daisy and Lucy, claiming there’d been an emergency at Rouge Bis and that I was needed in the kitchen. Hopefully that would reassure them for now. Then I turned my attention to dialing Troy.

  I realized that I didn't even have my husband's phone number. Up until now, I hadn't really thought about it. The idea of trying to reach him was so absurd, it never occurred to me that I might need to ask him something at some point. I looked outside the window, then at Connor, then out again. Was I really going to ask my husband's employee for his phone number?

  Then again, I had too many questions: Why Miami? Why now? Was he sending me alone or coming with? Plane! I was going to fly on a plane! How long was the flight? How long were we going to stay? Was this our honeymoon?

  That one stopped me cold.

  So what if Brock told me it was safe. Tons of things, bad things, could happen to me.

  I was not going to Miami, I decided. The car stopped at a red light, and I opened my side of the car, determined, ready to run, but Connor grabbed my arm, his fingers digging deep into my skin. I felt the air leaving my lungs as I tried to contain the white-hot pain.

  He was hurting me. On purpose.

  "Let go!" I yelled.

  "You're coming with me," he said, leaning across me to yank my door shut and then leaning back, only to hit the gas.

  I didn't think. I just hurled my cell phone at him. It hit him in the side of the face and dropped into his lap. Blood trickled from his nose down to his chin. He swiped it away silently, glancing sideways at me, glaring like he wanted to kill me. I knew he probably would have, if it weren't for his boss.

  My heart began to pound as my cell bleeped with a new message.

  "Give it to me." I motioned for the phone between his legs. "I swear to God, Connor, you better do it now."

  He continued to weave through the traffic. It was an idle threat, and he knew it. I had nothing to fight him with, no way to escape. He’d locked the doors and engaged the child safety locks.

  “Here,” he said, surprising me and offering me my phone.

  When I read Lucy’s text, my heart beat so fast I almost felt it leaping out of my throat.

  Lucy: Tell me I don't need to call the police about this.

  With shaky fingers, I wrote back: I can handle it myself. The joy of being a mobster’s wife, y’know. Speak later. x

  I wasn't sure whether it was bold or stupid, but that was the moment when I realized that it was true. I was going to handle Troy and Connor myself.

  And I was going to find my freedom, my happiness, inside this golden cage.

  TROY

  I NEEDED TO get my ass to Miami ASAP, and I’d decided to take Sparrow with me. Paddy had been dying of cancer for a few months now, and rumor on the street was he wasn't going to make it through the summer. Debt had to be collected and paid, and revenge was about to be served, cold and punitive.

  It felt only fitting that Sparrow was there, even if she had no idea what I had planned. Plus, I didn’t trust her alone in Boston.

  I was packing my suitcase when Cat showed up at my bedroom door, leaning her shoulder against its frame, wearing nothing but a suggestive smile and her fuck-me black dress that was tight like an undersized condom. Her eyes on me felt like a lap dance not worthy of the fat tip. I fought an eye roll.

  "Hey, baby," she rasped, licking her bright red lips. I kept my eyes on the suitcase I was filling, wide open on the bed. “Mom told me your wife’s out and Brock picked up Sam from school to take him shopping, so I thought I’d drop by to say hi.”

  What the fuck was up with Brock. Shopping? I’d given him a job to do.

  "What do you want?" My voice was clipped.

  "You, mainly." She took a step into the bedroom, the echo of her heels click-clacking on the marble floor sending shivers of annoyance down my back.

  The bitch had no right to be here. She clasped me from behind, her hands roaming over my chest as she rested her forehead between my shoulder blades. Her flowery perfume attacked my nostrils, hanging in the air like a tasteless joke.

  "Where are you going, Troy? For how long?"

  I didn't answer, reaching down and zipping the suitcase. Red was supposed to get back home any minute. I’d called Connor and told him to bring her in immediately. I fucking hated it when Maria let her daughter into my apartment just because she could, especially as Maria couldn’t tell her daughter no about anything. I made a mental note to take my housekeeper’s head off for this.

  "You need to come see me on Friday. We have an arrangement," she pressed.

  I turned around to face her, buttoning my white dress shirt. “Brock seems pretty pissed off with you. You acting up again?”

  She pouted like a kid, but didn’t answer.

  “This…” I pointed between us. “Is just fucking around. Don’t you forget that. Invest more time with your family.”

  Her chin started quivering, but instead of crying, her face broke into a coy grin. “But you are my family, baby.”

  Her hand reached down to cup my balls and I raised an eyebrow, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back. Even though I didn't physically hurt her, I wanted to make a point.

  I brushed my lips against hers and growled into her face. "Tell your mother that next time she lets you into my apartment without my permission, you're both walking out of here with one of my shoes shoved into each of your sorry asses. Understood?"

  Cat's cleavage bumped into my lower chest, and I felt her rocking against me blatantly. Such a fucking trainwreck. Not an ounce of self-control.

  “Since when do you give a flying fuck about Brock? About my family?” She grazed her teeth over my chin seductively, her tongue trailing down my neck. “C’mon, baby. There's no way in hell Pippi Longstocking keeps you busy between those sheets. Look how neat they are. I doubt she even shares that bed with you."

  I grabbed her by the hair and spun her, throwing her against the wall face-first and grinding against her curvy ass from behind. "You better shut your pipe," I snarled into her ear. “It’s never been too good for anything other than sucking cock, and even that is growing old.”

  Catalina threw her head back against my chest and laughed hysterically. "You didn't even fuck her yet, did you? Oh, how I wish I could have seen the look on her sweet little face when she unwrapped the gift that I bought for her." Her ass slammed into my erection. “I’ll wear it for you, baby. All the leather and garters in the world.”

  “You’re crazy.” My impatience and anger felt sour on my tongue. “Have you relapsed?”

  “I’m as sober as a nun. I just came to remind you that you’re still mine.” Cat snaked her hand behind the small of her back to grab my cock through my pants.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong. I wasn’t hers. Neve
r had been. Never will be.

  Not again.

  But she was right about one thing. I didn't sleep with my own wife. The woman who I took into my house, who slept in my bed, who I have given a job and bought tickets to Miami for.

  And it pissed the shit out of me.

  “Forget about her,” she purred. “She’ll never be yours.”

  “Bitch.”

  I flipped the hem of her dress up and ripped her panties in one sharp movement, leaving a red trail of on her skin. Her ass was round and golden brown, perfect, unlike Sparrow’s small and white one. But I still closed my eyes, and for whatever fucked-up reason, pretended that this was my wife as I unzipped.

  I rode Cat from behind, my balls slapping against her ass, like I was spanking the venom out of this vile woman. Soon enough, devil woman started moaning as loud as she possibly could, no doubt to make sure Sparrow would hear if she walked in downstairs. I balled her ripped panties in my fist and shoved them in her mouth to muffle the sound of her whimpering my name.

  “Tr-ror-roy…” Her voice was garbled, and she spat the underwear from her mouth, which only made me more furious. “Troy...”

  Thrust.

  “Shut up,” I ordered. Her voice made me remember it wasn’t my wife I was having sex with. Hell, with each sound she made, my dick softened a little. She wasn’t who I wanted to fuck, and that was oddly disappointing.

  “Oh my God, I love you baby, I love you.”

  Thrust.

  “Shut. The hell. Up.”

  I felt her legs shaking against mine as I pumped harder into her. Catalina was molded between my body and the wall, banging her head against it in frustration and pleasure, and that was my cue to pull out, still half hard, still thinking of Red for some crazy reason.

  I didn’t come, and knew it would be pointless to try. She wasn’t Sparrow. Didn’t feel like her, didn’t taste like her, didn’t move like her.

  Cat barely had time to turn around and face me before I zipped up. I threw the stained dress she gave Red earlier that week in her direction.

  "Get the fuck out of my place and never come here again," I ordered. “We’re done.”

  I always told her we were through. Every week. Yet somehow, we always ended up rolling on her bed. And carpet, floor, Jacuzzi and even on her lush, neatly cut lawn. But it was always at her house. She was never allowed, not physically and certainly not mentally, into my kingdom. This was a breach. And yet another goddamned excuse to finish what I wanted nothing to do with anymore. Her.

  She caught the dress mid-air and examined it, shocked. Tugging at the stained fabric, she let out a grunt. "The little witch ruined my dress."

  Pulling the suitcase from the bed and resting it on the floor, I stifled a sarcastic laugh. I reached for my back pocket and yanked out my wallet, plucking a wad of cash and throwing it in her general direction. "It was your brilliant idea to send my wife your dress. Ever heard of the dry cleaners? Time to use ’em.”

  "Dry clean what? It's a mess! Can't you see?" She waved the dress in the air. “I can’t believe the little skank!”

  I walked right past her, and when I reached the open door, I nodded for her to get out. Catalina huffed and marched out of the room, a sulky expression on her face. She stomped down the curved staircase, deliberately stabbing her pointy heels into the wooden treads. At the bottom she spun back to face me, but I stopped before the bottom step, towering one stair and several more inches over her.

  "You're an asshole." She shoved a long painted fingernail into my chest.

  "And this asshole is done with you."

  “Don’t you realize that she doesn't want you? I know exactly why you had to marry little Sparrow, so don’t pretend like it’s a real relationship. She is a girl, and I am a woman. As a woman, I can see what you refuse to register into that cocky brain of yours. She ain't gonna fuck you like I do or shut up and just be there for you like I can. Stop betting on the wrong horse." Her voice was spiked with sadness, and with that, she turned around and marched out of the apartment.

  I waited to hear the door shutting after her with a loud bang before slamming my fist into the nearest wall. Good riddance.

  I walked straight to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass, and poured myself a drink. Maria stepped out of one of the guestroom and gave me the stink eye. She knew more than I felt comfortable with about my relationship with her daughter. Then again, no one forced her to work here for me.

  Understandably, she wanted Cat to stick with Brock and make it work. Brock, the lovable fucking golden boy. But the truth of the matter was that Cat loved danger more than she loved cock. She always crawled back to me, no matter how hard I tried to push her away. In all fairness, I never tried too hard. But after this little stunt today, barging into my apartment unannounced, I knew I would have to put her in her place when I got back from Miami.

  “You let your daughter in here without my permission one more time, and you’re fired.” I took a sip from my glass, my eyes trained on the city view through the wall of windows.

  Maria muttered something in Spanish and headed for the kitchen. The sound of glass breaking filled the air. She always had “accidents” around the house every time she was mad at me for screwing Catalina. I paid no attention.

  A few minutes later, the door swung open and Connor and Red stormed in. Connor had a fresh bruise on his left cheek, a bleeding nose and murder in his eyes. Red looked flustered too, a furious little thing, trying to shake Connor’s arm off her elbow. My eyes jumped directly to her arm, clasped between his chunky fingers, and he immediately let her loose.

  Oh, hell no.

  "The fuck happened to you?" I emptied my glass in one swig and pointed at him with it. His eyes darted straight to my wife, as if the answer depended on her. My attention moved to Sparrow.

  She looked confused and furious, scurrying to the corner of the living room. She was blushing again and didn’t even do her usual routine of glaring at me disapprovingly for drinking at ungodly hours. Something had happened between these two, and an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

  "Nothing," Connor said in a tight voice.

  She pointed her cell in his direction. "I threw my phone in his face," she announced, not a hint of apology to her tone.

  I squared my shoulders and shoved a tensed hand into my pocket, knowing I'd need to keep it there if I didn't want to add more color to Connor’s already bruised face. "Care to elaborate?"

  Maria walked back into the living room just then, looking all kinds of interested in the new drama. I think she got off on knowing that I had bullshit to deal with in my personal life. Especially as she held me responsible for her daughter’s own mess. Throwing her out was tempting, but Sparrow seemed ridiculously attached to the help, and she was already too pissed off for me to deal with, so I let Maria stay, doing my best to ignore her.

  "He grabbed me by the elbow in front of my friends and now I have a mark." Sparrow stretched out her arm, exhibiting a thick, purple-green ring around her snowy skin.

  My jaw tightened.

  She yanked her arm back and narrowed her eyes at me. "I know that you think that you rule me, own me, that you can destroy me. But I’m not scared. I'm not going to be pushed around by you or your staff. And I am not going to be touched by anyone without my permission." She spewed her words out like hot lava. Her eyes, aflame with rage, burnt my skin everywhere they landed.

  I took one leisurely step in her direction, every inch of my body itching with the need to launch at Connor and smash his skull on the granite tiles. I brushed my knuckles against her bruised skin.

  She jerked away and hissed like a snake. “That includes you, Troy.”

  So Red didn't mind riding my face like a cowgirl, but still had trouble letting me touch her in front of Connor and Maria. I was beginning to see a little bit of me in her.

  "Go upstairs and pack a bag," I ordered, pretending that it didn't sting when she rejected me in front of my
two employees.

  Maria grinned, getting her money’s worth, and turned on her heel, back to the kitchen sink.

  "I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me why, when, where and how,” Sparrow demanded. “Oh, and FYI, I don't even have your phone number. No driver’s license either, so good luck with getting me on that plane. Guess it’s not as easy as you think, bossing me around. You should've really thought about it before..."

  She was rambling, and I wanted to press my index finger to her lips and shut her up. But I knew better than to try touching her again. Instead, I raised my hand to cut through her stream of babbling.

  “This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely. Go upstairs and pack your shit, understood?”

  She stopped talking, her eyebrows flying up in outrage, flipped me the finger, and turned around and climbed upstairs. It was only when I heard her slamming drawers in the bedroom, no doubt to make a point, that I realized how worried I was that she wouldn’t do as I said. Red had fight in her. She was the kind of woman to lead a revolution, not to be kept in a luxury penthouse with a cheating husband.

  I was clipping her wings, and I knew it.

  Squinting at Connor and feeling the familiar eye-twitch I got every time I wanted to yank someone’s heart out of their chest, I turned my whole body to face him. Up until Sparrow, he was my part-time muscle guy when I required one. He received clear instructions and was paid to act, not to think.

  Shortly before we got married, I’d hired him full time to keep an eye on my new wife. Honestly, Connor wasn’t there to keep her safe—no one would go after her. I wasn’t in the mob and even if I were, the underworld didn’t involve wives and children when retaliation was needed. I kept Connor on her tail because I didn’t want her to run away and fuck up everything I’d worked hard to achieve. To make sure I always knew her whereabouts. She was safe without him, but I didn’t want her to know that.

  I wanted her small and scared.