Bound by Blood (The Contract Book 3) (2 page)

Black Rose

To say I’m a contradiction in terms would be a gross understatement, and that’s putting it mildly.

Though I don a well tailored suit by day, I am just as content padding around my mansion barefoot in nothing but a pair of jeans, usually unbuttoned for the sake of comfort. You see, though I was raised in the upper echelon of society, I was born with a trait which cannot be learned nor acquired. I am a born ‘Predator!’ Once I have tracked my prey, I will stop at nothing to attain that which I crave.

As fate would have it, I have raised my nostrils in the night air, filled with the promise of sensuality, and gotten a whiff of the prey I desire. Her name is Melanie and the fact that Melanie has a son only makes her that much more desirable.

I am convinced a child born with my DNA is destined to become a serial killer. Though I have been able to hone my craft of taking others’ lives and steer my compulsion in a positive direction, I have always had a thirst for blood. Thus, I have no doubt a child born of my loins will carry the same trait. Tommy offers me the chance to have an heir and to be normal, or at least as normal as one can be in this fucked up world I inhabit.

Watching Melanie on surveillance is causing a concupiscence within me to take her but she is such a fragile little thing and it is necessary to gradually introduce her to my deviant desires. They will all be unleashed on her in due time but, until then, I still have needs. Though she is somewhat meeting my lust for control, my cock is still hungry and needs to be sated.

I have to say that the biggest problem for me is that I always measure every other woman by the standard I perceive Melanie to be… and they never measure up. The women in my escapades curb my passion—nothing more, nothing less and tonight… I need some curbing to be done.

I make my way into an establishment on the Upper East Side for a drink. It always humors me how ‘the high society girls’ make their way over as if they aren’t trying to pick me up.

I eye the latest flavor who has eased her way into the bar stool next to me. Her hair is done in long dark ringlets cascading down her back and her make-up appears as though it was professionally applied by a stylist. She wears a tight, salmon colored, banded dress that lifts up just high enough to show the lace at the top of her sexy, black thigh highs when she sits down.

I don’t have much time for the high society women who reside in my income bracket. They remind me too much of my Mother—uptight, frigid, social-climbing cunts.

I’m smart enough to realize they can’t be that frigid all the time, not if they are anything like my ‘Mommy Dearest.’

I know all too well I am the seed spawned from an affair my Mother had years ago but like any good high society family, denial runs rampant. The secret has been swept under the rug, and
all is well
in the Wentworth home. In my world, appearances are everything. I learned to wear a mask very early on. Needless to say… it has been very useful to me in more ways than one.

Tonight’s entertainment makes her way to the ladies’ room. I retrieve my wallet and lay a generous tip down for the bartender. I swiftly turn on the toe of my Italian leather shoes and make my way into the hallway that houses the restrooms to await the brunette. She steps through the door and I lean in to speak in her ear.

“I’m leaving and I would love nothing more than to pin you in the alleyway and fuck your brains out before I retire for the evening.”

With that, I turn swiftly and make my way out the door. The baffled brunette stands for a moment in shock and watches while I walk away, as if I had said nothing.

I lean against the alleyway wall, smoking a cigarette and listening for the click clacking of stilettos that I know will soon come.

Sure enough, the brunette turns the corner, looking back and forth over her shoulder behind her as she makes her way into the alley.

As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, I grab a handful of hair and growl in her ear, “Shut the fuck up and get your hands up against the wall!”

I pull her legs out, bend her body at the waist, and move behind her as I begin to growl threats. “Don’t you dare move your hands off of that wall, bitch!”

I stand behind her and slowly shimmy her dress up. I yank her G-string off of her as if it is nonexistent and watch her body tremble with interest as I lean in and begin to degrade her with my speech. “I’m a vile nasty man who is going to use you in a back alley and probably never see you again!”

I jerk her head back and command her to open her mouth. I shove the soiled panties I’ve torn from her body between her perfectly lined lips and into her mouth.

I am viciously defiling her when I look up and see a man who has entered the mouth of the alley. He is now watching us.

“You are a Fifth Avenue slut who is getting fucked in an alleyway while a drunk watches.”

It is evident I’m not the only one who is getting turned on by the knowledge that we now have a voyeur. Little Miss High Society is now clawing her perfectly manicured nails into the bricks as she climaxes.

I grab both of her hips, viciously pounding in and out of her, as I unload into the condom I’m wearing.

I take a moment to recoup and then hiss in her ear, “Don’t call me or look for me. If I ever want you again, I’m well able to find you.”

I turn, making my way down the alley. I can hear her heels clicking their way around the corner and back into the bar. I chuckle as I think about the irony of ‘High Society…’

Miller

I pull up to the front of the club and eye the woman with me, my woman.
Mine…Mine…Mine…

My hand slowly makes its way to her throat and squeezes.

“I’m going to take you home and choke the shit out you while I fuck your brains out.”

“You’re such a romantic,” she gasps as she cuts her eyes over to me.

“You just fucking remember who you belong to. Fuck that feminism bullshit. I own you. Remember the rules and you and I will remain on good terms: Don’t do any drugs, don’t get cornered by any men when you head off with the other ladies while we talk, and don’t ever fucking leave here with anyone, male or female, unless you want to get someone killed.” I laugh when her eyes get all big because she knows I’ll do it.

We make our way in, once again, being instructed to leave our guns at the door, and once again, sneaking in with a knife hidden in my biker boot. I check out Stormy as we make our way over to Diego’s reserved booth and she looks so fucking gorgeous. Even in just a denim mini-skirt paired with a feminine white muscle shirt, she’s the most beautiful woman in here. She’s beautiful and she is mine. Already, Diego is staring and even though he’s a blood brother, I have to resist the temptation to knock his fucking teeth down his throat. Seeing him lick his lips before we even make it to the table only intensifies my desire to teach him a lesson. Diego is a man-whore and he isn’t getting near my woman.

I’m surprised to see Trent at the table and even more surprised to see that he has a woman with him. The guys all greet each other as we sit down to have a drink and discuss the business that brought us here.

Stormy

We make our way to the table and I notice new people I have yet to meet. Even before we are seated and I have a chance to view the stranger’s face, I find myself pulling in closer to Miller for a sense of security. I haven’t been having any panic attacks and I seem to be holding the agoraphobia at bay, but nothing could have prepared me for this introduction.

We sit down and the man seated at the table looks… well… just fucking dangerous. I’m not talking just scary, I’m talking sinister. He is dressed in jeans and a hoodie. The hoodie is pulled down over his face causing me to have to intently focus to really see him. I have never seen a man who reeks of murder like he does. His face appears as though it was carved from granite, as if Mother Nature herself had taken extra time on this beautiful monster. The scar that runs down his face, from under his eye down to his cheek bone, only makes him more intriguing. When I do finally make eye contact, the intensity of his gaze makes me quickly look away, but not before I notice the color—one blue and one brown. He looks at me as if he knows my inner most thoughts. I squeeze even closer to Miller, my protector. The woman who is with him addresses him and the name she uses sends chills up my spin. She addresses him by the name, ‘
Executioner.’

Miller’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I look up to see him talking to Diego.

“Quit staring at my woman, mother fucker.”

“Fuck no, I’m not going to quit looking at her. She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on and if you fuck up, I’m going to steal her from you.”

I keep my attention directed towards Miller. I have no intentions of being stolen from him by anybody. The rest of the men laugh at Diego’s response and it relieves some of the tension—tension caused by Diego being crazy enough to say what he just said and tension caused by the presence of the new man,
‘The Executioner.’

A few moments are spent chit-chatting and having a drink before us girls are scooted off, much like the last meeting, so the guys can discuss their next kill. Unlike the other women, I will be informed on all the details later because I’ll be going with them.

I am glad for the chance to get away and meet the new girl. I can’t help but wonder what kind of woman would be with a man so intense he has been dubbed
‘The Executioner.’

Selena leads us to the bar and back to the dressing room as is her wont to do. She probably wants a line of blow already. We all get seated and nurse our drinks as Selena pulls a baggie out. The new girl and I both decline doing a line. I can only assume her man doesn’t want her doing street drugs either. Fuck… as scary looking as her man is, she probably obeys without any arguments.

“Kansas, I love your name,” Selena begins the conversation.  “Were you born there? Is that why your mom named you that?”

“No, my mom doesn’t give a shit about what she named me, just named me something off the top of her head. I grew up in group homes and foster care so I’ve never really even had the chance asked her why.”

“Oh sweetie, well you have family now. Doesn’t she, Stormy?”

“Yes,” I agree. “We all stick close together. Those guys out there will be the first to tell you that they’re blood brothers. They all served in Afghanistan together so they’re as thick as thieves.”

I guess Kansas wants to change the subject because she remarks about a dress Selena has hanging on the rack and Selena gives it to her.

It is the truth. This group is like a family and because one of the brotherhood brought her in, we’ll watch over her and take her in like family. I want to ask her so badly about the man she calls
Executioner
but I can’t figure out a way to do it without sounding nosey. I’ll ask Miller later but I will have to be careful because he is so fucking over the top jealous. I can see how a guy like that would want to take care of her because she seems like she really needs someone. As hard as our men are, they love with an extreme intensity—intense enough to kill for it. One thing rings true: once you join this band of brothers, there is only one way out…

Miller

I look around the table, getting a read on my fellow brothers. It has been a long time since Trent has made an appearance so I know this meeting has most likely got something to do with the chick on his arm. I have never seen him with a woman. The mother fucker is so scary looking, he normally buys high class escorts to get laid. It isn’t that he can’t get a woman, he just scares the shit out of them. He is one of the most intense people I have ever met and that is saying a lot being that I’m surrounded by killers. I would have to say between him and Glazov, they are the two I watch the closest. I go out of my way not to piss either one of them off because they are ruthless and sadistic when it comes to pay back. They both enjoy toying with their prey before a kill, much like a cat with a mouse. I’ve seen them go so far as to torture an enemy, lead them to believe they are going to release them after their sadistic antics, and then kill them anyway…slowly. None of us are right in the head after serving in Afghanistan. The fact that we stick together is one of the things that keeps us from going off the deep end. Diego’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“What brought you out of your cave, mother fucker?” he asks Trent.

“I came to beat your ass and then go back home and fuck Kansas raw; seeing you bleed makes my cock hard.”

“Fuck that, I’m not letting you fuck up this pretty face. I’ll shoot your ass before you ever lay one of your cage fighting fists on this beautiful mug. My women like me pretty.”

“Well mine likes me beautiful too—a beautiful monster.”

“What did you do? Kidnap her and fuck her into submission until she had Stockholm Syndrome?”

“You know me all too well. That’s how I roll.”

“Well spill it,” I chime in. “Who’s next on the hit list?”

Trent laughs, but it is more of a sinister laugh that causes my hackles to rise. “You baby faced mother fucker. You look like the college kid next door but deep down you’re a cold blooded, sadistic killer. You’re more dangerous than somebody who looks like me because they never see it coming when you aim your Glock.”

A sense of comradery washes over me realizing that Trent knows me so well. I am sadistic and I do love my job. He begins speaking again.

“I’ve got a situation with a psychiatrist who has gone all psycho.” I already know who he is talking about due to news reports and piecing information together from our previous conversations. In my world, nothing is as it appears to be.

“He had Kansas in his sights…”

Diego interrupts again, “Yeah, ‘til you kidnapped her ass and worked your mojo ‘til she became a victim to the dreaded Stockholm Syndrome psyche.”

“I like a woman who resists my charms,” Trent answers.

I add, speaking more to myself than the guys, “I like a woman who resists period.”

“Well if she quits resisting and you don’t want her anymore, I’m stealing her from you,” Diego retorts.

“The fuck you will, Diego!”

“There’s the killer I know,” Trent says and continues with information on the mark we’ll be hitting. I’m still cutting my eyes at Diego while he smirks at me, toying with a toothpick in his mouth. He’s an instigator, always has been, and though he is smirking, we both know he is well aware of where the lines are drawn with me and he won’t cross them. I don’t know what his fucking obsession with my woman is, but Stormy would never have anything to do with a player like Diego. The girl is monogamous through and through and even though I wasn’t when I met her, I damn sure am now. Yeah, I’m monogamous enough to kill a mother fucker over her, and that goes for Diego too. Deep down inside, Diego knows it.

“Alright girls, you’re both pretty,” Trent chuckles as he continues. “This quack doctor went bat shit crazy when he had Kansas as a patient.”

“See, even our women are crazy,” Diego smiles at me. I’m still not smiling. If he wasn’t the Colombian thug and the brother that he is, I would reach over the table and smash his pretty little mug into it.

Trent cuts his eyes at him, “You’re an instigating little bastard aren’t you?”

Diego sheepishly smiles. “Yeah,” is all he says and at that point, we do all laugh and it finally cuts the tension.

“To answer your
crazy
question, she suffers from something we’re all familiar with… PTSD. She had a client blow her brains out in front of her.”

“Damn,” we all say at once.

“So, what is this quack wanting to do? Research PTSD? There are plenty of other people he could do a study on besides some helpless woman,” Diego questions.

That causes a full blown laugh from Trent. “That woman of mine is anything but helpless. She is one of the strongest people I know.”

“She would have to be to put up with you,” I answer.

“You got that right. Anyway, he is researching RAD.”

“Reactive Attachment Disorder,” I murmur.

“You always have been a brainiac, Miller.”

“It goes with my college boy good looks you referred to earlier,” I answer. In my line of work, brains are as important as balls. You have to be able to read people and situations to do what I do. Not only do I have to read my marks, I have to read the people who hire me. Hidden agendas—everyone has them.

“From what I can gather, he believes the cure for RAD is a form of Stockholm syndrome and he wants to prove that theory at any cost.”

“So, this woman he kidnapped suffers from RAD and he took her to research her? That’s some crazy shit, man. I’ll never see counseling the same way after hearing that,” Diego says.

“That’s exactly what he has done and the clincher is… he plans to kill her when he finishes his so called
research.
”

“How do you know all this shit?” I ask him.

“I bugged his office. You don’t think I let all that Intel training Uncle Sam taught me go to waste do you?”

“None of us did, my brother, none of us did. Speaking of
us
, why didn’t someone call our other brother,
Black Rose,
in for this little meeting?”

I smile, but it’s more of a half-cocked
I know something you don’t know
smile,
because I’m well aware
Black Rose
stays up on everything going on in the brotherhood. He stays informed even when he doesn’t show up. The guy is just like the rest of us—a ghost. By the time you know he’s there, it’s already too late.

“Don’t underestimate him; he knows everything going on…” That is all I have to say and they all shake their heads in agreement.

Black Rose
and I have a love hate relationship. I don’t know why but we just don’t like each other. He thinks I’m crazy and I think he needs to lighten up and take the stick out of his ass. He comes from old money and he is an uppity mother fucker if I’ve ever seen one. Everything has to be just so and he has the money to make sure that, in his world, it is. I don’t think I have ever met a more controlling bastard than him. Like I said, we don’t like each other, but we do maintain a mutual respect due to the fact that we are both in the brotherhood. It’s all good until it isn’t.
Just joking,
I think to myself as a sardonic smile crosses my lips until I’m certain it manifests in my expression. Yeah… we’re cool. It’s all good in the neighborhood—the neighborhood of the brotherhood—a brotherhood that is bound by blood…