Illicit Temptation (Astoria Royals #3)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Trace

I watch Archer Crest strut down a narrow back-of-house corridor. Clearly not an exit for party guests at this fancy venue, but he thinks he’s fucking better than everyone and can go wherever the hell he wants. But it’s the perfect corridor for me to strike.

From inside my jacket, I slide out my expandable baton, and with a quick jerk of the wrist, I whack Archer on the back of the head. It’s not as effective as a baseball bat, but it gets his attention.

“What the fuck?” he bellows, spinning around, holding his head.

“Tell me, Crest, are you that daft that you don’t know raising your hand to an O’Rourke, especially the only sister, can get you killed?” I shake my head, tsk, tsking as I smack the baton against my palm. “Wanna raise that hand to me instead?”

He’s smart enough to know what’s coming. He tries to run, but I grab him and punch him in the nose so hard, he crashes to the floor.

I easily carry this lightweight. He may be fit and lean but weighs a feather from the lack of muscle mass. I put my shades on him and pulling a Weekend at Bernie’s , I tell anyone I pass, that the dude had too much to drink, and I’m helping to sober him up.

Workers at this catering hall are so wrapped up in getting food out, that no one questions me. Not that anyone would question me with my staggering six-five height, tattooed fingers, more crawling up my neck, and my signature scowl.

Across a walkway under a canopy of overgrown trees, I bring passed-out Archer to my car. It’ s good that I keep rope, duct tape, drugged dart guns, and extra knives in my trunk. This is why I don’t drive one of those SUVs with exposed, easily accessible cargo areas.

My brand-new Mercedes S-Class beauty is also lined with disposable mats in the trunk I can toss if a spec of blood hits the surface.

I call Rhys and he makes it to East Hampton in a shocking forty minutes. He pulls up in a brand-new convertible Audi, wearing casual linen trousers, a blue blazer, and a white T-shirt underneath. It’s ninety degrees, and he’s driving around with the top down. Not a hair out of place either.

He also left the security firm in Dublin to work for the O’Rourkes. The Quinlans and the O’Rourkes share a tight history. Our top-of-the-range security experience put us as guards to the Astoria royal family. Instead of doing hits on the streets.

I don’t mind taking a life if needed. But I prefer a nice suit and expensive cologne to a leather jacket and blood under my fingernails. At the end of the day, I do what’s needed of me. And destroying Archer is needed.

“Who’s this?” Rhys asks me, looking down into my trunk.

Archer, who’s come around, struggles against the complicated set of knots holding him. Seeing me and Rhys, he attempts to scream, but he’s got duct tape across his mouth.

“A fool who raised his hand to Shea O’Rourke,” I say, downloading the camera footage stored on this venue’s ridiculous excuse for a security system.

Rhys’ gaze cuts sharply to Archer. “I hear that’s a death sentence. Funny, you’re still breathing.”

I should have killed him. The Crests’ diamond business thrives on the suffering of forced child labor while their mothers are raped in backrooms by militias in war-torn African countries.

But I don’t need to bring a war with the Crests to the O’Rourke’s doorstep after only a few months in their employ. Shea accurately pointed out the Crests have dangerous allies.

Blood from Archer’s nose drips onto the duct tape sealing his mouth. He squirms and thrashes against the ropes. My hands bled, learning to make those knots by that tyrant of a commander, Malone.

“Do Shea’s brothers know about this fucker?” Rhys asks, leaning on my open trunk like we’re inspecting a box of puppies.

“I’m guessing no. Because if Lachlan knew Archer Crest has been laying his dirty pipe into his angel of a sister, he’d already be six feet under.”

Even if that angel turned out to have an untamed lust for my cock.

Because I’m a little touched after three years in the fucking Algerian desert, I lean down and get up in Archer’s face. “When you’re back home tending to that broken nose, keep this detail in mind. In a matter of hours, I will drag Shea’s lace panties down her sun-kissed legs and taste that cunt of hers. I bet you don’t eat pussy, do you?”

Rhys scoffs a laugh behind his hand. “Easy, brother.”

“Just so we’re clear, mate.” I pull up Archer to a seated position, yank his tied hands to the edge of the trunk, and pin them there with my booted foot. “You stay the fuck away from Shea. She is mine.”

He eyes the trunk cap, knowing all I have to do is slam it down, and he’s not cutting any diamonds or sipping champagne for a while. Never again, if I sever the hands.

But my mental torture seems to have him rattled enough to fucking listen to me. “Rhys, hold this motherfucker.”

My brother takes my place while I fish out my phone. “ Got it.”

“You see this?” I shove my phone with the video under Archer’s swollen nose. “This is you about to strike Shea-Lynne O’Rourke, sister to Kieran O’Rourke, the head of the Irish Mob in Astoria. You may not like that I roughed you up and hog-tied you or that you’re being shipped back to your Manhattan nest in a trunk. You may want to find someone to strike me back. I strongly advise against that. This is a one-time courtesy because, as much as you touching that princess sickens me, having a reason to beat the piss out of you was worth it. But next time, you’ll be tied to an anchor and dumped off the pier. Or you’ll get your toes, fingers, and balls cut off, one by one. It all depends on Lachlan O’Rourke once he gets this video. Of course, I don’t need to send it to him. That’s up to you.”

I like to give the guy a fighting chance, the way you toy with a wasp and a fly swatter, whacking it a little at a time and just when it tries to fly away... WHACK . I’ll let this parasite make his own stupid decision. That way, when he steps out of line and ends up dead, I won’t feel an ounce of guilt.

Archer’s eyes widen hearing me mention the Irish Enforcer, who he’s met. “You... You wouldn’t,” he mumbles behind the tape.

“Aye, I will. And when Lachlan tires from beating you to an inch of your life, I’ll be there to finish the job. Do we have an understanding, mate? I keep your secret and you stay the fuck away from what belongs to me.”

Archer spewing to the O’Rourkes that I plan to fuck her before I’ve had a chance to tell them myself that we’re married might be the sliver of hope he’ll cling to that they’ll let him live in exchange for that information. I won’t give him that.

He furrows his brows, and grunts in anger.

“Do we have an agreement?” I ask Archer again, putting my phone away and taking the trunk lid from Rhys. “You let this inconvenience go, and I’ll forget I saw what you did. Blink twice for yes.” I let the cap fall but catch it at the last second.

Archer rapidly blinks and lowers his head in defeat.

“Smart man.” I slap him in the face. “Rhys, pop your trunk. Let’s move him. Did you line it with a tarp like I told you?”

“Aye,” he says and helps me move Archer to his Audi. “You checked this part of the parking lot for cameras?”

“There was one by the dumpster that I disabled. I got a drone flying over the pathway checking heat sensors.” A toy I got from Balor that scans bodies in a predetermined proximity. It’s for bad actors who sneak up on people to either record shit or take a pop at someone unsuspecting. A signal will come over my phone if someone walks down the path.

With Archer packed up, I reach in and pinch his broken nose, crushing the cartilage until he’s screaming and sucking down more blood. Now he’ll squirm in even more discomfort for the long drive to Manhattan.

“No rush dropping him off,” I say to my brother.

Rhys grins. “I’m hungry. I saw a nice restaurant a few miles back. Might take a walk on the beach, too.”

“Savage.” I grip his hand and we do a bro hug.

“You sure you’ll get that sweet lass into your bed?” he questions me.

Wiping blood off my hands, I say, “She’s not just a sweet lass. She’s my wife.”

“Your wife ?” Rhys whispers.

“Yeah, I have something to tell you when we hook up next.”

“Jaysus H. Christ.” Rhys shakes his head. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“No,” I laugh, but I’ll have fun figuring it out .

My phone beeps with an alarm from the drone. A strike alarm.

What? No. That’s...that’s a mistake.

I spin around in horror and see Shea standing at the edge of the walkway, her jaw dropped at seeing Archer in Rhys’ trunk. The alarm’s beeping grows faster, and my heart pounds as I race toward her.

With a force I don’t think my body has ever achieved, I dive on top of her, shielding her from the drone strike.

Muffled rounds of .270 Winchesters discharge from the weaponized drone. I wait to feel bullets tear into my flesh, but we land behind a four-foot-high boulder, the ammo just missing the both of us.

Shea breathes heavily underneath me. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You may want to re-program that drone, brother.” Rhys slams his trunk and gets into his car.

“Drone?” Shea shrieks. “You launched a drone?”

“I had to make sure no one saw me with your boyfriend.” I look down at her lying flat on her back in a patch of green shrubbery. Christ, I can’t get it out of my mind how my massive cock felt in her tight cunt. I need to stretch her again to fit me, and only me.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” Her eyes fall to my lips. “I ended it. Or maybe you didn’t hear me while you were plotting his death.”

“I’m proud that you decided on your own to never let that snake touch you again.” I lower my mouth, wanting to taste her so badly. “Touch what is mine.” I help her up.

“It’s just a piece of paper that says I’m yours.” She pushes me away and dusts herself off.

“If you recall the games we played that summer: rock, paper, scissors?” I take out my phone to disable the drone before it reloads. “You always chose rock, thinking you’d win. But I won because I chose paper, which covers rock. ”

“And fire obliterates paper.” She flips me off and walks away.

I get the sentiment. She thinks she can burn the marriage license and it will disappear.

I catch up to her on the walkway back to the venue’s kitchen entrance. “And the dripping juices from your cunt will put out my fire.” Or act as gasoline and blow everything up. “I’ll be on your six all weekend, wife.”

That’s how I’ve thought of her these three long years, even though I know to her it was an albatross. It’s a secret I’ve kept, much like that night we shared, just the two of us. I can’t get past how perfect it was. How perfect we were.

But we’ve had to live in the real world since. Her with that prick, and me fighting to survive on my assignment.

Now Crest is out of the picture. One less battle for me. I have no plans to give Shea-Lynne this divorce she wants, and I’m going to have a ball teasing her with my cock, to remind her how perfect we are together.

After one night of temptation when I break her, she’ll get a taste of what we had in Vegas. Then she’ll know what I’ve known all these years.

She belongs to me.