Not-So Temporarily Married(45)
“I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. “As long as I have you by my side, I can handle anything.”
An odd mixture of male satisfaction, pride, and hunger flared in his eyes. I didn’t get to appreciate it for long because he wrapped his arms around my back and lifted me up as he lowered his head to claim my mouth in a deep kiss. His lips crashed against mine, our tongues tangling with each other as he held me suspended in the air. I didn’t know how long it lasted, but by the time he set me back on my feet, my lips felt bruised and I was out of breath. Raising a hand to my mouth, I giggled.
“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping to get, kitten,” he growled, smiling down at me.
“Can’t help it,” I gasped. “Knowing I’m about to walk in there, where my da is tied to a chair—probably after having been roughed up a bit already—with my lips swollen from your kisses.”
“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” he grumbled. “If I had my way, this is a look you’d wear every minute of the day.”
“I’m just appreciating the poetic justice of the moment,” I explained. “You make me happy, something every father should want for his daughter. Not mine, though. He’s more than proven he couldn’t care less about my happiness. Seeing me like this when he learns I had a hand in his capture? It’s icing on the fucking cake.”
“Then let’s get this done. The sooner it’s over, the faster I can get you back in my bed and demonstrate how wrong that old saying goes—you really can have your cake and eat it too.”
The hunger in his eyes left me without any doubt that my pussy was the cake he planned to eat. I walked into a DeLuca warehouse with Brandon’s hand wrapped protectively around mine, my cheeks flushed and lips swollen...and my panties wet. It was inappropriate as hell, but well worth it when my da’s eyes bugged out at the sight of me.
I couldn’t understand what he was saying behind the gag stuffed in his mouth, but it was probably for the best since I recognized his look of fury. It’s one I’d seen enough times growing up. I slowed my pace, giving him a little time to simmer down, and waited for the purple color to recede from his face before I pulled my hand from Brandon’s grasp and approached my da. They’d made sure he wasn’t a risk to me before I entered the room, tying his hands behind his back and each of his ankles to a chair leg. When I stopped before him, I lifted my chin to one of Nic’s guys and he promptly removed the gag.
“Hey, Da,” I murmured in an awkward greeting, because really, what was the etiquette for situations like this?
“I cahn’t believe me own dahtter would betray me loik dis,” he muttered. “Yah’ve signed me death warrant, girlie.”
“It’s not like you gave me any other choice, Da. You betrayed me first. I know what you had planned for me. Does ‘keeping me in line with a firm hand’ sound familiar? Or how about me ‘finding myself sayin’ Hail Marys on my way to hell’?”
He didn’t bother denying he’d said those things or defending himself. He just sat there staring at me, and I didn’t like the crafty light that entered his eyes. It made me think maybe he had another card up his sleeve. It was about damn time I delivered the final blow, before he understood there was no way out of this mess for him except for in a body bag. Nic had given me the perfect weapon, too, when he’d asked me to take my da’s spot as head of the family. Although it had sounded crazy when he’d suggested it, Brandon had been pretty damn convincing when he brought it up again later. I hadn’t been fully convinced it was the best plan—for me or my family—but looking down upon my da while he was strapped to a chair and completely helpless gave me a new perspective. I sure as shit could do a better job than he’d done, especially with Brandon at my side.
“Besides which, your death warrant is exactly what I need so I can step into your shoes.”
“Yer a fecking riot, girlie. Dere’s na way in hell ya can step intah me shoes. De O’Reillys’ll never be led by a woomahn.”
“Oh yeah?” I murmured. “It’s too bad you won’t be around to watch it because that’s exactly what’s going to happen when you’re gone. Maybe the devil will let you take a peek at me as the O’Reilly boss while you burn in hell. I bet it’d be the perfect way to torture you, wouldn’t it?”
The purple crept into his cheeks again as he sputtered. There wasn’t anything he had to say that I wanted to hear, so I yanked the gag back into place and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “The O’Reillys are going to be led by a woman. Me. And the first thing I’m going to do is move our family out of the slave trade. Then we’re going to get out of drugs, too. The best part is knowing there isn’t a damn thing you’ll be able to do about it except roll over in your grave.”