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I smile in response.
Closing my eyes, I recall when I first saw her this evening. Different hair, long and silvery pink. Same height though. And those beautiful and unique eyes. Grey and so expressive, locked on mine, with so many emotions running through them. Until she closed them as she submitted to me, as she always did when I kissed her. Totally unexpected after all this time. I wanted to tell her to open her eyes, to carry on looking into them, but I was too afraid she’d shove me away.
I get lost in my thoughts about her, about all the things I want to do to her, all the things I dreamed about doing with her for years. Memories of days I’d shoved to the back of my mind layering with how she felt against me tonight. Fuck. My hand wrapping around her throat, her tongue gliding against mine. My mind, totally running in one direction now, carries onto her perfect tits, how they were pressed up to me. I could literally feel her nipples digging into me. Practically feel her curves and amazing hips and arse under my hands. A groan escapes my throat as the blood in my brain rushes south, my mind taking her in from tip to toe. The woman is even more gorgeous at thirty-six than she was at seventeen.
“I remember the first time we met her.” Xan carries on with his musings, his obviously on a different plane than mine. “We were nine years old.”
I huff out a sigh. “I know.”
“Did you love her then? Before she pushed you into Broadridge ditch, of course?” He barks out a laugh.
I look across at him. “No,” I say too sharply. “I did not.”
He raises his brows at me in disbelief. “Bullshit,” he snorts.
“It was when I was thirteen and she tried to drown me.” We both look at each other and start to laugh like lunatics. “Fucking Greystones.” I shake my head.
Chapter
Six
KELLEN
My phone starts to ring and I reach over from the bed to grab it, stopping when I notice I’m still fully dressed with boots on. I scrub my hand down my face realising I’d lain down for a minute at the end of the bed just to rest my eyes and must have fallen asleep. Mick clearly just thought bollocks and left me to it. Jet lag, I think, but I’m kidding myself. My reality is no sleep, booze, women etc. The list is, unfortunately, very long, and sleep hours, very short.
God I feel rough. The phone thankfully stops and I shut my eyes again. But it starts up again and I swear it’s gotten louder, and more aggressive.
I grab it without looking at the screen and shout. “What? This better be good, Xan.” Deathly silence on the other end. I peer a bleary eye at the screen and see it’s a number not programmed in. Fuck, I never answer those normally. What fucking time is it? “If you’re not gonna talk, fuck off.”
I’m about to drop the phone back on the side table when I finally hear a challenging, ultra confident voice on the other end. “Marcus.”
My hand freezes and I slowly move the phone to my ear. “James?” It sounds like him, but as my experience with him has been mainly snarling and punching, I can’t be sure.
“Can you come pick me up?” he asks, the challenge still ringing in his tone.
I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but it was not that. “Are you ok?” I sit up on the bed.
“Can you come pick me up?” he repeats, a little passive-aggressively.
He’s not asking if I can, he’s asking if I will. If I want to. Do I? Or, more appropriately, given the circumstances, should I?
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Can you come or not?” This kid is as aggressive as his mother.
“Yeah I can come, but you have to tell me where you are.”
“I’ll drop you a pin,” he says and hangs up.
Fucking hung up. What the hell time is it? The red numbers on the clock shout 4:30 a.m. I shake my head to clear some of the cobwebs and walk to the bathroom to splash some water on my face in an attempt to wake up a bit. Mick’s gonna love this. I laugh as I walk out of my suite and bang loudly on his.
Mick answers looking as fresh as a daisy. Not sure how he manages it. His ready for anything mantra has fully been tested over the years, but it has never dimmed.
“We’re going to get the kid,” I tell him.
“Marcus, didn’t Tim say not to chase them?”
“Yep, but he phoned me. Not sure how he got my number, fucking set of Greystone criminals. I reckon he’s about ten minutes away, so let’s go.” I walk towards the door at the end of the corridor.
