Ruthless King (New Orleans Malones #4)

Chapter 1

1

W ilder slid his hand along my thigh, cupping my mound while Levi sucked my nipple into his mouth.

I arched up, letting out a small cry of pleasure.

It was too much.

And yet I wasn’t protesting . . . because I was greedy and wanted more.

I wanted them both to take me. Hard and fast. To call me their good girl.

To fuck me like I belonged to them.

Wilder pressed two fingers deep inside me ? —

“Jillian!”

Jilly frowned as a voice pulled her from her story. Ignoring them, she kept reading.

“You want this, don’t you, Blaire?” Wilder asked. “You want us to fuck you, to own you. I’m going to fuck this pussy bare while Levi takes your ass.”

“Are you listening to me?”

No, she wasn’t listening. She was Blaire . . . and she was about to get thoroughly fucked. So would whoever was talking just . . . just go away?

Wilder rolled onto his back and then grabbed me around the hips, pulling me over him.

“Jillian! You need to put that book down and pay attention.”

Jilly scowled and put the book down.

Why did people keep insisting on interrupting her?

Staring at the woman standing across the book trolley from her, she frowned. “What?”

“Is that any way to speak to me?” the woman screeched.

Several people in the library turned around to look at them.

Oh shit.

Oh crap.

“Margaret. I didn’t see you there!” She smiled big at the other woman.

“You didn’t see me because you were busy reading the book you are supposed to be shelving!” Margaret replied, pointing a bony finger at her. “I came to find you because you’ve been gone for half an hour!”

“Have I? I was just checking the book over. I thought the pages looked crinkled.” Besides, it wasn’t like she’d gotten a lunch break. She’d had to eat while keeping an eye on the front desk, because Margaret had gone for a long lunch with her sister. The same sister who just happened to be a New Orleans City Councillor.

Smelled fishy, right? That her sister had gotten the head librarian role?

Or maybe Jilly just had a case of sour grapes since she’d also applied for the job.

And failed.

Margaret’s eyes narrowed. Her lined face jiggled as she moved her head from side to side. “I blame myself, Jillian.”

Uh-oh.

No conversation ever went well when it started with Margaret blaming herself.

“You do?” Jilly asked. Why did she have to start reading the latest book by CJ Bennett?

Idiot.

“Yes. I’ve given you too much unsupervised time. I thought you could handle it when clearly you’re out of your depth.”

Like. Hell.

The last thing she needed was more supervised time. Margaret was fine leaving her and the other library team members alone when there was something else she wanted to do.

Like go for a long lunch. Or head out early so she didn’t miss bingo.

However, when she was around, she always found something to criticize.

Jillian, stop day dreaming.

Jillian, smile more. Stand straighter. Shelve faster. Be quieter.

No one else ever seemed to get into trouble with Margaret like Jilly did. For some reason, she liked to pick on her.

It could be because you’re reading instead of shelving.

Or maybe because you applied for the same job she did.

But the last thing she wanted was Margaret constantly peering over her shoulder.

How could she sneak peeks at all of the books she wanted to read if Margaret was with her all the time?

All right. That sounded bad, as though she never got any work done. She did. Unfortunately, Margaret gave her all the boring jobs. And all these books . . . they were amazing. She could travel to different worlds. Become someone else.

Someone different than Jilly, the predictable librarian.

Jilly, the dutiful daughter.

Jilly, the pushover.

Unfortunately, those few hours a week that she got to be Nyx weren’t enough to turn her into someone more interesting.

There was no way she was ever going to have two men wanting to fuck her senseless as Blaire did.

Lucky duck.

“Sure, Margaret. More supervised time. Sounds awesome.”

“Jillian! I’ve told you many times that it’s not appropriate to call me Margaret. It’s Mrs. Anderson to you. And you’re going to have to stay late to make up time for all your daydreaming.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Anderson.” She gave her a sickly smile even as she made a mental note to have Mrs. Yards make a voodoo doll in Margaret’s image.

It was probably the only time she’d ever experience a prick.

Jilly giggled at the thought.

“Reggie, are you gonna be lonely living here on your own?”

Regent was aware that the whole room grew silent at Ace’s question.

Thea sent the young boy a chiding look. “Ace!”

“Ace, you’re not supposed to ask things like that,” Keir told his younger brother.

“How come?” Ace asked before taking a bite of bread. Butter covered his cheeks as he chewed. “Ijustwantedtoknow.”

“Ace, don’t chew with your mouth full!” Thea told him. Then she flushed. “I mean, don’t speak with your mouth full.”

Carrick leaned into her, talking quietly. The redness in Thea’s cheeks faded as she relaxed. Jardin then kissed her other cheek whispering something that had red flooding her cheeks again.

“I don’t know why I can’t talk with my mouth full,” Ace complained.

“Because it’s gross,” Keir replied. “We can see what you’re chewing.”

“So? You saw it before it went into my mouth. What makes it so different once it’s in there?”

“Mastication,” Maxim said dryly.

“Huh?”

Keir and Ace looked at him strangely.

“Spit,” Maxim said.

“I’m not allowed to spit at the table,” Ace told him with a sad sigh. “Or anywhere, really. Thea has a rule. She thinks spitting is gross.”

“Maxim isn’t talking about spitting,” Keir said. “He’s talking about the spit in your mouth.”

This sort of family meal would have horrified his father. Whenever Laurent Malone had eaten with the family, it had been a cold, formal affair. Where everyone had been too scared to talk, let alone with their mouth full. Or to reach over and grab a dinner roll from their brother’s plate as Ace was doing.

Or get stabbed in the hand with a fork . . . like Keir was doing to his brother.

Although his father might have approved of that action.

“Keir, Ace,” Jardin said in a low voice. “Do I need to separate the two of you?”

“No,” Keir said. “As long as Ace stops stealing my food.”

“But I want another bread roll,” Ace said.

“I’m sure Gerald has some more in the kitchen,” Regent told him. “But you do need to leave room for dessert. Gracen baked.”

Gracen blushed as everyone cheered. She leaned into Victor, who stared down at her, his hard face softening. Then she looked over at Regent. “You’re not going to be lonely, are you?” Concern filled her face. “We could stay.”

He smiled at her. He had a soft spot for her. For all the women in his family, really.

They were his.

And he’d protect them to the death. As would his brothers.

“I’m going to be fine. Thank you for your concern. There’s no need for you to stay. Your new house will be ready in a couple of weeks for you to move into.”

Maxim and Aston had just moved into a house a few blocks away. And while Gracen and Victor had built a big house out of the city, they’d also decided to buy a house a few doors down from Maxim.

“And it’s not like you’re going far,” he added.

“He’s probably grateful for the peace and quiet,” Maxim said with a grin. He pointed to Aston. “This one can be really noisy.”

“Hey! I am not!” Aston slapped Maxim on the arm. “Rude.”

“Any of you are welcome here whenever you want,” Regent told them.

“At least you’ll be able to walk around in your undies,” Ace said.

“Ace, you can’t say undies at the table!” Thea chided.

“Oh. Sorry. Boxers.”

“You think I want to walk around in my boxers?” Regent asked, amused.

“Yeah, or you could run around naked. But what if Gerald saw your diddle. That would be embarrassing,” Ace told him. “If I had this house all to myself, though, I would run around naked and slide down the banister.”

“Ew,” Keir said. “Then you’d have to clean it because your bare butt would’ve touched it.”

“Nuh-uh, I’d clean my butt first.”

Thea looked up at the ceiling. “Lord. Why me?”

“She says that a lot,” Ace told Aston. “But God doesn’t usually answer her.”

“Good to know,” Aston said, her lips twitching.

After lunch, Regent retreated into his study for a moment. He loved having his family around him. It was the only time this house felt warm and inviting rather than like a cold mausoleum.

He was missing one family member, though.

His baby sister.

“Heard from Lottie lately?” Victor asked as he walked into the study. Maxim and Jardin were right behind him.

“She called earlier.” He poured himself a drink.

“Is she coming for your birthday?” Maxim asked.

His birthday wasn’t for another few months.

“She doesn’t need to come for my birthday. Nobody is celebrating my birthday.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Jardin nodded, helping himself to a Scotch.

“No birthday celebrations.” Regent glared at them all. Since when didn’t they listen to what he said?

Oh, he knew since when. Since they all met their women. They were a bad influence.

Wait . . . that was something his father might say.

Then he’d tell Regent he shouldn’t let himself fall for a woman like his brothers had. That it would only weaken him. Make him vulnerable.

Something Laurent Malone had never been. He hadn’t loved his wife or kids. Not even Regent. Although if he’d cared for any of them, it was him.

Of course, his form of caring had been terrifying, cold, and calculating.

Regent often thought his brothers and sister were better off. His father might have neglected them, but at least they’d all managed to find happiness and love.

That wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d been raised to be cold. Emotionless.

Except you’re not, are you? You love the people in this house.

Lottie.

Yeah, he loved her most of all.

“Earth to Regent?” Maxim said, clapping his hands. “You paying attention, bro? Or are you away with the fairies?”

“What? What is it?” he asked.

“I’ve heard this happens when men get older. They lose their hearing and their faculties,” Maxim joked.

Regent quickly slapped the back of his head.

“Hey!”

“Respect your elders,” he told his youngest brother. “And I’ve got more important things to worry about than my birthday.”

“It’s a big one, though,” Jardin said.

“Will all of you listen to yourselves? It’s a birthday.”

“You’re turning forty. You should really start procreating. Your sperm are probably deteriorating,” Maxim told him.

“My sperm are just fine,” he said dryly. “Thank you for your concern.”

“Hey, you know me. Just want to show you that I care.”

“You weren’t spanked enough as a kid,” he muttered.

“I wasn’t spanked at all. Someone would have to notice I was alive to do that. Mind you, it could have been worse. I could have had to spend time with that asshole like you had to.”

“Anything you need from me before we go?” Jardin asked. “I’ve got to get the boys to bed. And I think Thea needs some time in the hot tub.”

“No. I don’t think there is. Things are . . . quiet.”

Quiet didn’t mean good though. And from Victor’s scowl, he thought the same.

“Santiago’s nephew is keeping quiet?” Maxim asked.

He looked between Jardin and Maxim. He kept them out of the business as much as he could. Jardin was a shark of a lawyer and a partner in his firm, while Maxim ran most of their nightclubs—the clubs that were on the up-and-up.

He couldn’t keep Victor out. Their father had raised Victor to be Regent’s protector and he took that job seriously.

“Yeah, although I’ve got a meeting with him Friday night. He wants to meet at his strip club. Apparently, some of his girls got ill from a bad batch of mixology and he wants to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

“You had nothing to do with that, though,” Jardin said.

“No, but I think it’s some sort of excuse to meet with me.”

“So you’re going to meet with him? Why not send Basilien or Luka?” Maxim asked.

His father would never have taken a meeting with someone like Santé Santiago. Would have considered it beneath him.

But Regent had found that it paid never to dismiss anyone.

He also had another reason for wanting to go to the club.

“I want to see what he says.”

“You don’t think Patrick is still involved with that dancer, do you?” Jardin asked.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he said, sitting back in his chair.

Fuck. He felt like an old man.

Was this what nearly being forty got him? He felt . . . exhausted.

Alone.

It’s better like this.

Or that’s what he told himself.

“Nah, I’m too smart for your own good,” Jardin replied. “So, does she still work there?”

“She does.”

“You’ve agreed to go to the club so you can see her, haven’t you?” Maxim asked.

“Perhaps.” That was as much as he was going to go into it.

Patrick McMahon was an old enemy. He’d once been someone in power in New Orleans. But he’d become a greedy asshole who’d wanted more, which is why he’d tried to have Regent killed.

But that hadn’t worked out well for him since Regent had gone on the warpath and destroyed everything he owned.

Patrick had run. He was good at hiding. But he couldn’t stay hidden forever.

Regent was going to find him eventually.

Patrick been seen a while back at Sexy Sins, the club now run by Santé Santiago. Not only had Patrick become obsessed with one of the dancers there, but Santé’s uncle, Carlos, had been working with him.

Which is why Regent liked keeping an eye on the place.

Victor shuddered. “I hate going to the strip club.”

So did Regent. “I can take Basilien and Jose instead.”

Victor narrowed his gaze. “No, you won’t.”

He knew that would be Victor’s reply.

“Our guy on the inside said that so far, Santé is a better man than his uncle ever was,” Regent told him. “The girls are a lot happier than they were before Carlos was . . . disposed of.”

Victor grunted. He didn’t sound convinced. Regent wasn’t entirely convinced either. He’d met Santé once several months ago, soon after he’d taken over from his uncle.

On the surface, he’d said and done the right things.

But that didn’t mean he trusted him.

There was a knock on the door and Maxim got up to open it.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but the boys are ready to go. They’ve eaten all the cookies in the kitchen and they’re climbing off the walls. Pretty sure Gerald is about to take off after them with a frying pan.” Carrick grinned at the thought.

“Coming.” Jardin wrapped his arm around the other man. “Let me know if you need anything, Regent. Or find out anything.”

About Patrick, he meant.

He nodded. It would be easier to sit back and wait for something to happen. But that way would lead to disaster.

Regent knew that sometimes it paid to take care of things yourself.

Regent sat behind his desk the next night. The house was quiet. Victor and Gracen were out on a date night.

Regent never thought he’d see Victor go on a date night.

Soon they’d be gone and it would be just him and Gerald.

He shook his head at his thoughts. It was for the best. The quiet would allow him to focus.

His phone rang and he peered down at the name displayed. A spike of worry filled him.

Why would Anne be calling him? He hadn’t talked to her since . . . well, since she’d taken off traveling with her new boyfriend in their RV.

Had something happened to Jilly? Anne had informed him that Jilly would be moving into the house while Anne was away. Regent wasn’t sure when they’d be back—if ever.

This new guy was definitely an improvement on her husband, Orlando Crane. He’d been Regent’s father’s right-hand man and a complete and utter bastard.

“Hello, Anne, is everything all right?” he asked.

“Regent, hello. I hope you don’t mind me calling like this.”

“Of course not.” He had a soft spot for the older woman. She’d always been kind to him. Even though he knew that her life hadn’t been that easy. “What can I do for you? Are you all right?”

“Who, me? Yes, I’m fine.” She gave a tinkly sounding laugh. Strange, he didn’t think he’d ever heard her laugh like that before. She sounded so carefree.

He wondered what that would be like. To give up everything and just travel around the country with your significant other.

He would likely be bored after a day.

“I’m calling about Jilly.”

“Jilly? What’s wrong with Jilly?” She’d seemed fine when he’d seen her. Of course, that had been well over a year ago.

She’d looked so beautiful. He hadn’t had much time to admire her, though she’d filled out in all the right places.

He was aware of the crush she’d had on him as a kid. But then she’d gone away to college and lived her life.

And he’d done the same. Far away from her.

Which was for the best.

Someone sweet and innocent like Jilly deserved a life that wasn’t entwined with his. He should probably permanently sever ties. Maybe even block up the tunnels. Then, she really could have a normal life.

Only, the tunnels provided a getaway that had proved to be necessary.

And he wouldn’t kick her out of the house her family had lived in for generations.

“I don’t know. I can’t get a hold of her.”

“You can’t?” Worry filled him. “Do you think something has happened? I can send a man out there right now.”

“Oh no. That won’t be necessary. I’m sure she’s fine. And sending one of your men would no doubt scare her. Of course, if you had time to go see her yourself, perhaps she wouldn’t get such a fright.”

She wanted him to go see her?

Was that really a good idea? But he didn’t want to tell Anne no. She’d always shown more caring and compassion toward him than his own mother. She’d been a cold, proper sort of woman. Uninterested in her own children. Regent wasn’t sure that she’d even cared about his father.

Would it hurt him to go and check on Jilly himself?

It was the least he owed Anne, plus it wouldn’t take much of his time.

“I’ll sort it,” he said. “I’ll tell her to call you.”

He hadn’t thought that Jilly would be so rude as to ignore her mother’s calls.

“No, no, please don’t. In fact, it would be better if you didn’t mention this call. She will think I’m spying on her or that I don’t trust her. I just want someone to check she’s all right.”

Strange. Wasn’t there a neighbor she could call if she was truly that concerned?

“Consider it done.”

He ended the call and tried to get some work done. But it kept niggling at him. The worry that something might be wrong.

So, instead, he grabbed his phone and texted Jose.

Thirty minutes later, they drove up to Jilly’s house. Most of it was dark and his concern grew. Then someone switched a light on upstairs and he saw the silhouette of someone in the window.

A woman.

His breath caught in his throat as she stretched her arms up into the air.

There was something so unconsciously sexy about her. She couldn’t know anyone was watching . . . yet each movement drew his attention to her. Made it hard for him to look away.

Then he realized that if he could see her so could other people.

Anger rose inside him. What was she thinking?

“Jose, I’m going to go talk to Jilly. You can stay here.”

“Um, are you sure, boss?”

“Yes, you can see me walk to the house from here.” Although the outside of her house was dark.

Something about that niggled at him, but he pushed it to one side.

Jose jumped out and ran around to open his door, his head swiveling back and forth.

“I don’t like how dark it is on this street,” Jose commented.

“It’s a quiet, suburban street. I doubt there’s ever much excitement here.”

Jose grunted. “As long as that excitement doesn’t start now.”

Regent strode across the street, aware that Jose remained leaning against the car, ready for anything.

He raised his fist and banged on the door, too angry to ring the bell.

Calm down.

This isn’t you. You’re always in control.

He heard someone running down the stairs. He waited for her to ask who was at the door.

Instead, the door swung open without fanfare.

What. The. Hell.

“Hello? Oh. Regent?” Her polite smile grew into a wide grin that dazzled him for a moment.

God. She was stunning.

It took him a moment to catch his breath. Then suddenly, his arms were filled with a five-foot-three brunette.

“I can’t believe you’re here! It’s so good to see you.”

It . . . he . . . she . . . this was not the greeting he was expecting. But he pulled himself together quickly and remembered why he was there.

“What are you doing answering the door without asking who it is?” he barked.

She stepped back, staring up at him in shock. Her mouth opened and closed.

That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant to lead with.

“And you shouldn’t turn the light on in your bedroom without pulling the curtains first,” he added. “Anyone could see what you were doing.”

She stepped back farther.

He didn’t like that. Or the worry he saw on her face.

“You could see me?”

“Yes.”

Jilly chewed her lip, and he resisted the urge to reach out and free it.

To order her not to hurt herself.

“I, um, sorry?”

Part of him realized he was being a bit of an asshole. But he was angry at her. Didn’t she have any sense of self-preservation? He could’ve been a pervert. He could’ve been watching her. He might have realized that she lived alone in this big house . . .

Fuck.

Did she even use the alarm system?

Being curt might seem harsh, but the alternative was worse.

And he was holding his temper back.

Barely.

“Pull the curtains. Keep this door locked. And do not open it to anyone before you find out who they are.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” Her head dropped so she was staring at her feet.

He felt a pang of something. Regret? Guilt? Those weren’t normal feelings for him.

Regent cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. Are you all right?”

As soon as he’d said it, he realized how ridiculous it sounded. She appeared to be just fine.

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He nearly told her to call her mother but then remembered that Anne had asked him not to.

“You need to get to bed.” Now he sounded like an idiot. His voice had softened and he was tempted to do something stupid—like pull her into his arms and tell her not to worry because he’d take care of her now.

“Shut the door. I want to hear it lock. Then go upstairs and pull the curtains. And get into bed. It’s late.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fuck. That ‘sir’ sent a shaft of desire straight to his cock.

What was wrong with him?

She might be gorgeous with that soft, light-brown hair that sat in waves around her face. And those big, blue eyes that had always stared at him like he could do anything.

He couldn’t really make out her body in the oversized dressing gown she was wearing, but from what he’d seen in the window . . . fuck, he needed to forget he’d ever seen her like that.

She shut the door and he heard it lock. Instead of leaving straight away, he took a moment just to compose himself.

The last thing he needed was to show anyone how he felt about her. Not even Jose, who he trusted with his life.

Getting back into the car, he told Jose to head home.

As they were driving away, it hit what had been bothering him.

There had been no security light. There should be. He was certain the house had one. Or it previously had.

He sighed. Maybe Anne was right to worry about Jilly. She didn’t seem to be doing such a great job of taking care of herself.

And perhaps he needed to take some responsibility for her. Technically, the house belonged to him.

And, in a way, he guessed that meant Jilly did too.

Jilly’s phone beeped as she walked into her bedroom in a daze.

What had just happened?

Had Regent Malone really turned up at her house? And why had he been so grumpy?

Sure, he’d always been quite serious. And maybe a bit stern.

But he’d never snapped at her like that.

And all because she’d been getting changed in front of the window without pulling the curtain?

Well, that was slightly embarrassing now that she thought about it.

He’d also been a bit upset about her opening the door without asking who it was.

But she did that all the time.

What was the big deal?

Grabbing her phone, she saw several texts from Mrs. Yards.

Mrs. Y: There’s a strange man outside your place. Do you need me to call Scott?

Mrs. Y: Oh, it’s all right you’re hugging him.

Mrs. Y: Is this a booty call? Hallelujah! The drought is broken!

Drought? It wasn’t a drought! It had been about seven months since Lowell. Maybe eight or nine months since they’d had sex.

Nine months wasn’t a drought.

Jilly: It’s not a drought! Just a small dry patch.

Mrs. Y: Otherwise known as a drought, dear. But I saw you let him leave. That’s so disappointing. Short and anticlimactic.

Dear Lord.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Dan. Oh, great. Mrs. Yards had created a group chat with Jilly, Dan, Scott, and Sasha. It was called: Breaking the Drought.

Dan: Mrs. Y said the drought is broken. Oh no . . . wait, never mind. Bummer.

Jilly: It’s not a drought!

Dan: Honey, it’s nearly the Sahara desert. Not a drop of moisture in sight.

Kill her. Kill her now.

Scott: Who is this guy? I want a full name, photo, and D.O.B. Got a cop friend who will run his background. Do not do anything or go anywhere with this guy until I give you the okay.

What the hell? Why?

Sasha: If it’s a booty call, you shouldn’t take him to your house. Who is he?

Jilly: He’s not a booty call or anything else. He’s an old friend who came to check on me. That is all. No one will run any background checks or needs to know his name. And it’s not a drought!

Sheesh. She put her phone down with a groan. How was this her life?

Seriously.