Cocked: A Stepbrother Romance (38 page)

She looked away and I could tell she was trying to hide how much she wanted it. I knew she was still pissed, but she wasn’t
that
pissed. The fact that she wore the yoga pants when she didn’t have to spoke volumes about what she was thinking. She wanted me to stare at her ass, wanted me to imagine pulling them down just enough to press my cock into that wet cleft between her legs.

“Colin, we can’t,” she said softly.

“I don’t care.”

I grab her hips and pulled her against me, not giving a fuck anymore. I couldn’t stand it a single second longer. I was done with all the bullshit, all the back and forth. I needed to feel her body, and as soon as she pressed herself against my hard dick, her lips parted in surprise. I didn’t give her a chance to react; I just pressed my mouth against hers and kissed her hard, savoring the taste. At first, she didn’t respond, but quickly she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back with an intensity I had never seen from her before.

I was practically tearing out of my pants. I wanted to bend her over right there, fuck her up against the historical fiction section. She pressed herself against me harder, moving her hips softly, practically dry humping my stiff dick. I reached down and cupped her firm ass, squeezing hard, and I felt as much as heard her gasp.

As soon as I was about to slip my hand between her legs, my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. She moved away and laughed softly.

“You’re pretty excited.”

“All your fault.”

My phone kept ringing. “You should get that,” she said.

I looked at her. “Fuck my phone.”

“Really, answer it.”

I clenched my jaw. She was right, it could be important.

“Fuck,” I said, as I moved away from her and pulled it out of my pocket.

I looked at the Caller-ID, but didn’t recognize the number. I flipped open my phone and held it up to my ear.

“What?” I said.

“Colin, it’s Jimmy.”

I blinked. “Jimmy. I didn’t recognize your number.”

I moved away from Bren and spoke softly. I could feel her eyes watching me as I spoke.

“Calling on a burner. We found Fabrizio.”

“Where?”

“Safe house near Girard in Fishtown.”

“I’m close.”

“How long?”

“I can be there in fifteen.”

“Better hurry. Our guy thinks Fabrizio knows he was followed.”

“Text me the address.”

“Okay.”

I hung the phone up and looked at Bren.

“Do you have to go?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“What about me?”

“I’ll drop you off first. It’s on the way.”

She nodded and frowned. “Did they find him?”

“Might have. Not sure yet.”

She paused. “Be careful.”

I grinned. “Always am.”

T
he address was on a tiny side street in the Fishtown neighborhood. It was a blue-collar place on the border between Center City and north Philly, and was considered one of the oldest places in the whole city. According to some people, the Fishtown accent was one of the last few remaining original dialects in the whole city. The important thing was, though, that people in Fishtown didn’t talk to the police. They were old school that way, used to growing up and living in more dangerous neighborhoods where the rule of law wasn’t always guaranteed. Sure, they might call the cops if they heard gunshots, but mostly because they wanted to scare the assholes away.

I pulled over and checked my gun, not sure why I had been giving myself a little history lesson. I flicked off the safety and made sure the clip was full before climbing out of the car. Silently, I walked the perimeter of the house, but didn’t see anyone. I kept low, in case Fabrizio was watching from a window, my heart beating slowly in my chest. Most of the other houses were quiet, too, which made sense since it was two in the afternoon on a workday. Still, I needed to make sure I was quiet, or else risk getting the cops involved. On top of everything else, that was the last thing I needed.

I jumped the fence into the backyard again and stood next to the back door. The yard itself was pretty empty, and weeds were beginning to win back the corners. It was pretty obvious that nobody had taken care of it in a while. The door didn’t look particularly sturdy, which was good. I took a deep breath and mentally planned out my attack. I had to be quick, but I needed to avoid killing the guy if I could. My gun was only a last resort, though I was pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to try and take me out if he could. That made things even more dangerous, but I really had to avoid killing him. Not only would the Italians be pissed, but I was pretty sure O’Brian would be unhappy that I'd started a war with his most powerful competitors. I was at a huge disadvantage, then. Hopefully, he wasn’t expecting me.

I had the element of surprise on my side. Without thinking too much more, I braced myself and kicked the door just above the knob with all my strength. It buckled, but didn’t break. I reared back and kicked again and the door flew in, splinters scattering all over the place.

I felt cool and calm and in control. Time seemed to slow down and I felt alive, more alive than usual. The kitchen was dark. I moved in and crouched down behind the table, silent and listening. There was only stillness. I moved fast, my gun drawn, and swept through the first floor. The kitchen was empty and so was the living room. Nothing looked like it had been used in a while, which could be a bad sign. The cabinets in the kitchen were all empty and so was the refrigerator. Either he wasn’t there and Jimmy’s information was bad, or Fabrizio hadn’t stuck around long enough to make himself cozy. Either way, there was no sign of him hanging around the main part of the house. Silently, I pulled open every door that I saw, but found only a bathroom, a closet, and the basement steps.

I clenched my jaw. The basement was a deathtrap. I decided to check the upper floors first, and hoped that he would stay hidden if he were down there. It was a gamble, but I had no other choice. I had to play it safe or else risk getting killed.

The whole place felt spooky, but most safe houses did. They were built purely for functionality, hidden out of the way and furnished with the bare minimum. There were no decorations on the walls and everything had a secondhand feel to it. Some people felt like they were haunted, but really it was just the echoes from how empty they were. When a family occupies a space, they really fill the house. But safe houses stayed empty the vast majority of the time. I couldn’t imagine staying in one for very long.

I moved slowly up the stairs, gun at the ready. Sweat dripped down my back as a board creaked under my foot.
If he didn’t know I was here, he does now,
I thought. There was no other noise in the whole place as I strained to listen. I got to the top of the stairs and looked left, down a hallway. It was empty, and all of the doors stood open. There were no shadows or any other clues. To my right was a closed door that I guessed would lead to the main bedroom. I opted for that door, hoping he’d be in there. It was strange that it was the only closed door, and so I tensed for something to happen. I had a strange feeling in my gut.

Once on the landing, I turned the knob and pushed into the room fast. Ahead was a single bed with the sheets messed up.
He was here
, I thought, but didn’t have much time for anything else as a hand appeared from the closet to my right.

It grabbed my wrist and twisted, wrenching my grip away from the gun. I had a brief second to get a look at my opponent before he smashed his fist into my nose. He was young, with dark hair, but I had no clue if it was Fabrizio or not. My vision swam as I staggered back, the gun clattering to the ground, and I brought my fists up. If he was packing himself, I was done for.

The guy came at me, feinting left, but rushing at my right. I caught him as he tried to tackle me and I bashed my elbows down into his back. I caught myself against the wall and steadied my body weight before trying again. He grunted, and I bashed him again, pushing back off the wall. He staggered back, his face a mask of rage, but came at me again, punching for my face. I ducked and dodged and swung back, jabbing twice at his face. The first missed, but the second landed square in his teeth. Pain lanced through my knuckles and he grunted, stumbling back. I felt exhilarated, loving the adrenaline that was coursing through me. The only thing I loved more than a fight was fucking.

“Back off, Fabrizio,” I said, advancing on him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I jabbed twice again, but he got his hands up to block them. I got in close, practically breathing in his eyes, as I shifted my weight and brought my knee up, landing it in his midsection. He stumbled back, grunting, clearly not expecting that. I knew I had the upper hand and had to press.

Before I could take him down, though, he spoke. “I’m not fucking Fabrizio.”

I paused. “What the fuck did you say?”

“I’m one of Jimmy’s guys. I’m not Fabrizio.”

He looked up at me, holding his hands up, and I got my first clear look at the guy. I had only ever seen Fabrizio in pictures, and although the guy had the same dark hair and dark eyes, their faces were totally different. I relaxed slightly, staring at him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I said.

“Jimmy sent me to follow Fabrizio. I got made, though, and before I could get in and catch him, he got away.”

“Why did you attack me?”

“When you see a guy with a gun, it’s a good bet he doesn’t want to chat.”

I sighed and leaned back against the wall, panting. I let my guard down. The fight was over. My nose hurt like hell and I could taste blood in the back of my throat. The guy settled down on the floor. He looked about as bad as I felt.

“And who the fuck are you?” he asked me.

“Colin Blake, one of the Irish. Jimmy told me Fabrizio would be here.”

The guy nodded. “Colin. I’m Michael Flannigan.”

I nodded, still catching my breath. I had never heard the name before, but that wasn’t surprising.

“One hell of a punch you got.”

He grinned. “Yeah, you too.”

“So, what now?”

“Well, now I go home and ice my fucking ribs.”

“I mean, about Fabrizio.”

He shook his head. “The cocksucker is long gone. Who knows where he is.”

“You should fucking know.”

I was pissed. It was typical of the Italians to be sloppy in their work. If I had been following Fabrizio, I would never have been made.

He gave me an icy look. “You’re not one of my people. Watch yourself.”

I clenched my jaw then pushed off the wall and walked over to my gun. I picked it up, put on the safety, and slipped it into my waistband.

“Tell Jimmy to call if he hears something. And he better call soon.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I walked out of the room, leaving him sitting down on the floor. I walked down the steps and headed out the front door. My muscles were sore from the sudden burst of energy, and my nose was probably broken, but the worst part of the whole thing was that Fabrizio was still somewhere out there. And the fact that he gave one of Jimmy’s guys the slip meant he was probably pretty good. Or maybe Jimmy’s guy was just totally inept. Either way, I had my work cut out for me.

I had hoped it would be an easy job, catching Fabrizio, but so far he had managed to avoid both the Italians and the Irish. That alone was an impressive feat. O’Brian had pretty much half of the Right People out looking for Fabrizio, which was cutting into everyone’s profits, but he was worried about his daughter and was willing to do whatever it took to solve her problem. Philly wasn’t that big of a city; sooner or later, someone would rat him out. When they did, I had to be ready to do whatever it took to bring him down. I wasn’t about to be like Jimmy’s guy and let Fabrizio get away. I would do whatever I had to do to make sure he never got near Bren.

I climbed into my car and clenched the steering wheel.

The memory of Bren’s body pressed against my hard dick came flooding back. I had walked out on her, practically half way to finally getting to feel exactly what her smooth skin felt like under mine, all for nothing.

Fucking Fabrizio would pay for that.

I sped toward O’Brian’s, ready to finish what I had started earlier that day.

B
ack home, I stretched out on the couch in front of my dad’s big TV but didn’t bother to turn it on. I had planned on reading all afternoon, but Colin had decided to completely rework everything I'd had in mind.

One second he was telling me how badly he wanted to fill me up right there in the book store, and the next he was speeding through the streets like a madman and practically throwing me out of the car.

But the thought of his hard dick pressed up against me drove me crazy. I can’t stop imagining how soaking wet I was listening to him tell me what he wanted to do to me, and how badly I wanted it. All thoughts of our future relationship were gone, and there was only his body pressing against mine. I had never done something like that before, where we could so easily get caught.

And he doesn’t even like cats
, I thought to myself, grinning. I was acting like a kid with a crush but I couldn’t help it. Despite the lies of omission and what he did for a living, there was something deeply magnetic about that man.

Technically, though, I was still married. Although
I
knew that didn’t count, Vince hadn’t quite figured it out yet, and apparently it meant that he had a real claim to me. I was finished with him, with all of New York City. I only hoped that Colin didn’t get hurt hunting him down.

Suddenly, I heard the front door open.
Maybe it’s him, and it’s all over
. I sat up and looked over at the hallway as my father turned the corner and smiled in at me.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, a little disappointed.

“How are you?”

He walked into the living room and sat down on the big leather arm chair.

“I’m fine. Tired of being cooped up here, though.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you are. It won’t be much longer, I promise.”