Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore (26 page)

“See, I only put two shots in the gun.” Flaherty tossed three bullets at Suri.

Jericho gestured to Dante, indicating that he should sneak up behind the congressman while Jericho kept him occupied. Dante shook his head, but Jericho didn’t wait. There was no time to argue. This asshole was about to take a chance with Suri’s life.

Jericho stepped forward, bold as brass. He was less than ten feet away. Even Flaherty couldn’t miss at this distance, but that wasn’t the first thing on Jericho’s mind. “It’s pathetic to see a grown-ass man picking on a woman.”

Flaherty jerked in surprise to see Jericho so close. He covered his unease with a confident smile. “Pathetic is a man like you lusting after a stripper.”

“And that’s why you’ll always be dissatisfied with the women you fuck.” Jericho moved closer. “Have you ever spent any time trying to understand them? Or do you just treat them like crap and wonder why they hate you?”

“Don’t be stupid. Women love me.”

Suri snorted. “Now who’s stupid? I’d rather eat lead than screw you.”

As much as he loved her, Jericho wished Suri would shut the hell up. He was reminded of Dante flinging insults at the men who’d tried to end his life. The three of them had been beyond perfect for each other until she’d betrayed them for the color of Flaherty’s money. Why? Why would she have put herself in this position? She’d lied to them. Gone behind their backs, even knowing this might be the result.

Anger lit Jericho from within, snaking through his veins and eating away the barriers he’d carefully erected around the violence within. His skin tingled, hands clenching as he fought the urge to sink into mindless fury.

“Fortunately, nobody cares what you think, whore.” Flaherty squeezed the trigger.

Jericho’s heart stopped beating even though the gun clicked on an empty chamber. His tenuous hold on his temper vanished. He lunged at the congressman. The gun went off again just as Jericho hit his midsection. The sound was deafening in the close space, but Jericho was beyond caring.

They grappled like dogs, Flaherty trying to free his gun arm to finish the fight. Jericho leveraged his weight against the floor and straddled the congressman. Rage devoured intellect, and he wrenched the pistol from Flaherty’s hand. Flipping it, Jericho whipped his opponent across the face.

The ear-shattering scream of his enemy didn’t stop Jericho. The wooden butt of the handgun smashed Flaherty’s nose askew and split his cheek. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

SURI LOOKED TO Dante, but the feral expression on his face told her that he wasn’t going to intervene. Horror filled her with a panicked sense of responsibility. She couldn’t let Jericho commit murder. He wasn’t this violent lunatic. He was a good man.

Yanking frantically, she realized her chains were more decorative than utilitarian. The links began to stretch. The silver cut into the thin skin of her wrists. She didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was fixing the mess she’d made of everything. Throwing her entire weight against her bonds, she felt them snap.

“Suri, no!” Dante shouted, but it was too late. Launching herself at her lover, she tackled him sideways, and they both hit the floor.

Jericho snarled, gazing up at her with the eyes of a stranger. He leaped to his feet. She’d never seen him like this. Her Jericho was calm and always in control. She crabbed backward until she could stand. “Why are you doing this?”

“Me? This fucker was going to rape and then shoot you, and you want to know what I’m doing?” His shout made her ears ring. “You lied to us. Called him and came here to meet him for what—for money? Tell me, Suri, was it worth it?”

“Money? You think I would do this for money?” Her heart hurt, though her mind couldn’t argue with his logic.

Dante’s calmer tone came from behind her. “Then why?”

She tugged at what was left of the silver chains on her wrists. She felt like curling into a ball on the floor. Why hadn’t she gone to them from the beginning? She hated lying, hated the rift she’d caused. She just wanted things back the way they were. “Flaherty said he knew who you really were. That he would tell your enemies.” Unbelievable pressure built behind her eyes, and the tears began to fall. “He said that they would come, and you would both die. I didn’t want that to happen.”

ANY VESTIGE OF anger Jericho felt toward Suri evaporated, leaving him weak with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say something, Suri? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I can’t bear the thought of losing either of you.” She swiped at her eyes. “Then I got here, and he hadn’t kept his word anyway, and now all of this.” She gestured wildly at Flaherty’s unconscious body.

“Come here.” Jericho held out his hand, wanting—needing—to feel her close. As he lifted his arm, several droplets of blood hit the floor.

“Oh my God, you’re shot.” Suri fumbled with his shirt. “We’ve got to get both of you to a hospital.”

Dante looked at Flaherty with disdain. “That asshole is Malachi’s problem. After all he’s done, he can die for all I care.”

Jericho hadn’t felt the burning line across his bicep. Now it hurt like a bitch. Tilting his head, he was glad to see the bullet had barely winged him. Not life threatening, although more painful than a direct hit. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Please, please can we just get out of here?” Suri wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself.

Dante took in her outfit. “Princess, medieval wench just doesn’t work for you.”

“Can we discuss this later?” She was practically dancing in place. “That Malachi guy is going to come back, and I don’t want to knock anyone else out.”

Jericho held out his good arm, relieved when she willingly came to him. “Malachi isn’t going to give us any trouble. I promise.” He tucked her into his side and turned to walk out. She was shaking, her slender frame trembling against his body. Dante fell in behind them, staying close.

Malachi waited at the first intersection, arms crossed and legs in a wide stance. “Well?”

“Breathing, although unconscious.” Jericho didn’t bother to offer more. At this point, it had taken a monumental effort to leave the bastard alive at all.

“I know who I won’t be voting for come Thursday,” Malachi quipped.

Dante paused. “Tell Seraph that Flaherty is banned from Asylum. I’ll leave it up to her whether or not she backs my decision, but I’ll be calling the others to let them know what I’ve done.”

“I’ll relay the message.” Malachi’s cheerful tone was grossly out of place. “You all have a nice night.”

“You’re a sick fuck, Malachi.” Jericho had never been so glad to leave a place behind.

Suri wished it were possible to die of embarrassment. Huddling in Dante’s oversized spa tub, she was almost ready to sink beneath the hot water and wait until she drowned.

“Would you hold still?” Dante dabbed iodine wash on a cotton ball. “You’re acting like a baby.”

“It stings!” Jericho yelped. “At least blow on it or something!”

They were standing in front of the mirror with an arsenal of first-aid products spread across the bathroom counter. Dante was trying to wash Jericho’s wound, but Jericho kept trying to watch the reflection to make certain his partner was doing it correctly. For all that the two of them worked as a seamless team, this was not one of their more cooperative moments.

Dante probed the ugly red mark. “It’s just a scratch.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the last hour.”

Suri’s stomach lurched. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the feeling in her belly when she’d thought Flaherty would kill Jericho because of her stupidity. Nothing was worth the loss of these two men. Nothing. If she had been honest, things would have turned out much differently.

With her knees pulled up against her chest and her face buried against them, she tried to exorcise the image of Jericho bleeding from her mind. Flaherty could have ended everything in that one moment. He could have shot Jericho, turned, and done the same to Dante. Her whole world would have come crashing down.

The water level changed abruptly, tickling her nose where it rested against her knees and making her sputter.

“Sorry, love. I didn’t intend to drown you.” Jericho let out a deep sigh of satisfaction as the hot water covered his muscular body.

“Maybe you should. I’m starting to think the world would be a better place without me to screw it up.”

Dante slid into the tub behind her. He spread his legs around her body until she could feel his groin pressed against her backside. Despite everything that had happened, a thrill of desire shot straight to her pussy.

Though the tub was massive, it was crowded with all three of them in it. Water sloshed over the sides and dripped onto the tile floor. Both men lounged in opposite corners of the triangular shape, their legs stretched out to accommodate Suri.

“Damn, that feels good.” Jericho let his head rest on the edge of the tub until Dante shifted, and water splashed against his fresh wound. “Ow! It burns, it burns!”

“He’s such a pussy,” Dante teased.

“Screw you. I’ll get my gun later, and we’ll see if you’re any better.”

“You have a gun?” Suri wasn’t really surprised, but she was still trying to reconcile all the pieces that had become the puzzle of her life. After almost watching them die, she knew beyond doubt that she loved both of them more than anyone else in her life. It wasn’t just sex. It was more. It was deep and profound and painful in a way that would hurt like hell if she lost them.

“I have more than one, actually.” Jericho’s calm hazel gaze made even that tense statement sound perfectly reasonable. “And if you ask Dante, I have one or two in particular that I’m overly fond of.”

“Don’t ever touch his stupid Dragunov,” Dante grumbled. “He’ll have a coronary.”

“I’d let Suri shoot it.” Jericho gave her a wink. “Except that I think the recoil might rip her arm off.”

Their lighthearted banter was both soothing and confusing. “I’ll pass.”

“We are what we are, princess.” Dante wrapped his arms around her body and kissed her neck. “Can you accept that?”

Suri thought of Leslie’s certainty that she was embroiling herself with criminals. Her friend had grown up the privileged daughter of a prominent New York business tycoon, but it hadn’t made her life any easier. Leslie had settled down with two men who made their living working on the right side of the legal line.

Suri had never lived a life like that. She’d grown up the daughter of a bartender from Southie. She was the bastard child of a politician who’d never seen fit to claim her. She’d scrounged and fought for everything she’d ever gotten. And honestly, she was tired of catching all the shit that life dumped in her lap.

She gazed at Jericho. Gorgeous, dangerous, and protective to the point of laying his life on the line for her and Dante. And Dante, willing to manipulate the world until it worked in her and Jericho’s favor. How could she not accept them when they had so willingly accepted her—baggage, lies, and all?

“I love you both.” Suri let the words out in one long breath. “I know I have no right to ask forgiveness for putting you in danger like I did. It was stupid and careless, but I can promise I won’t do it again.”

“Just tell us how it happened.” Jericho’s low tone carried no rebuke. “Did he approach you?”

“I gave his bodyguard my business card.”

Dante rubbed her arms. “Why? Are you and your sister having problems paying for your mother’s care? I thought you understood the private exhibition would give you some immediate cash.”

She pressed her damp hands to her cheeks, wishing she could hide beneath the water. “My sister hasn’t chipped in for squat in three years. And yes. I needed the money to pay for my mother’s care. I contacted Flaherty before you told me about the belly dancing. When I tried to back out, he threatened you. I couldn’t let him expose you like that.”

“Princess, Jericho and I can handle ourselves.”

Jericho’s gaze held hers until she wanted to squirm with shame. “No more secrets. None. We could have handled threats from that asshole without you putting yourself in that kind of danger. Nothing is worth your safety, Suri.”

“Just tell us already. We know your mother has financial issues. You keep glossing things over. After everything that’s happened, do you really think it matters? We just want to help.” Dante’s hands smoothed down her arms.

“Usually I have it covered, barely, but we get by.” It hurt to admit the truth about Kim. “My sister stole the money I’d put back to pay Ma’s bills for the next two months.”

Dante said something in what Suri guessed to be Arabic. It didn’t sound complimentary. “How much did she take?”

“About ten grand.”

More curses. Suri was starting to like the way that language sounded on his tongue, even when she knew it wasn’t intended to be nice. Dante switched back to English. “How much are you short now?”

“About three thousand.” Suri cupped water in her palm and let it dribble out through her fingers.

“So how about that exclusive show you were tossing around?” Jericho looked at Dante.

“I can have it put together in twenty-four hours. If I run it the way I’d intended to, it should easily net that much and more.”

She was so overwhelmed she could hardly breathe. “After all of the crap I’ve put you through, you’d really do that for me?”

Dante’s lips brushed against her collarbone. “Princess, when are you going to realize that we’d do
anything
for you? No matter what.”

A swell of emotion made her desperate to show them how much their approval meant to her. Twisting in Dante’s arms, Suri kissed him hungrily. He thrust his tongue into her mouth. She nipped it lightly, sucking on the tip.

Behind her, Jericho caressed her ass. She thrilled to his touch. Using the warm water as a lubricant, he began fingering her tightly puckered asshole. The contact was electric, and she wanted more. She wanted it all.

Dante continued to kiss her, holding her captive with his spicy taste. She roved his body with her hands. She traced the contours of his rippling abdominal muscles. Lightly scoring his skin with her nails, she found his nipples and plucked at each until they hardened into points. He hissed and grabbed her hands to pull them away.