“Bad, bad girl,” Eamon purrs, moving into me and making a tsking sound. I whimper, feeling that thick bulge in his pants pressing into me and feeling his teasing breath on my neck.
“And you know why I think we’ve got ourselves a bad girl?” he growls into my ear.
I whimper, taking a stuttered breath as my head shakes.
“Because good girls don’t get messy wet panties when they get locked in a room with two bad, bad men. A good girl’s pussy wouldn’t get all slick and wet when those two bad men promise to make her theirs, would she?”
I whimper, panting, my entire world spinning and blurring as they close in around me, hands sliding down over my bare thighs as they keep my dress pulled up high over my panties. I don’t what it is—maybe it’s their tone, or the accents, or the raw power behind their eyes. Whatever it is though, there’s something about them that takes away any common sense I have.
And I’m helpless to resist them.
“Now,” Clay growls into my other ear, his lips brushing my skin as his big, thick fingers push between my legs. “Now you’re in big trouble, little girl.”
I am, but he doesn’t know the half of it.
Like I said, I should be running from the room. And again, it’s not just because these are two strangers, however gorgeous. It’s not just because of who they are, or because of Patrick and that whole bullshit arrangement.
It’s because I’m not the daughter of a captain in the Chicago mob. In fact, my dad walked out on my mom and I when I was four, and I’ve never even been to Chicago.
It’s because of who I am, and who I am is not in fact a mob princess.
…I’m an undercover agent with the FBI.
And the fact that I’m still not saying no, or running away from the two rough, powerful men about to put their hands all over me means there just might be something very, very wrong with me…
4
Clay
Fuck do I want her. We both do, badly. Like we’ve never wanted any girl ever. It’s like nothing exists but her. Not our empire, not the danger of us being on US soil, what with being who we are. Not with the sleeping dragon we’re taunting by being here, alone with her, after winning her in a goddamn poker game.
I knew who she was the moment I saw her walk into the bar with that fuckwit Patrick, Terry’s nephew. I’d heard about her—we both had. But neither Eamon or I had ever laid eyes on this mysterious new fiancée of the nephew of the man we were sent here to kill.
No, that’s not why Terry thinks we’re here.
Obviously. If he knew the real reason for a visit by two members of the council from Dublin, and if he had any smarts at all, he’d be halfway to fucking Mexico by now. Further, if I were him.
But trust me, I am nothing like that piece of shit.
Terry believes we’re here to renegotiate the rates of some of the taxes he sends back to Dublin. Or, at least I think that’s what he thinks. It’s what he’s been told, at least. See, Terry’s been a problem to the council for years. As head of our entire Boston operation, the man has responsibilities. He has a reputation to uphold—not so much his personally, but the organization as a whole. And on both those counts, he’s been fucking up, hard.
But you don’t warrant a hit from two council members for fucking up on the job. Some strong words, some warnings perhaps. And even if you continued to fuck up in the manner Terry has, and it was decided that you needed going, it’d be a professional we’d send to do it clean and emotionless.
…This isn’t going to be clean. And it sure as fuck isn’t going to be emotionless.
See, Terry letting rivals take territory is one thing. Him letting his dealers get away with murder because he’s too busy snorting coke twenty-three hours a day is one thing. Besmirching the name of the Irish mob, and thumbing us the finger form across the Atlantic? Well, those are bad ideas, but they don’t warrant Eamon and I personally flying over to put a bullet in the back of his head.
It’s what he did to Kelsey Hanity. That’s why we’re here. And that’s why he’s going to die.
Kelsey’s nineteen—beautiful, funny, smart. And she happens to be the daughter of Connor Hanity, one of the members of the council of kings, just like us. A month ago, Kelsey came over to Boston to see some friends she knew from college, and through her father, got put in touch with Terry for protection. After all, in our world, she’s a princess, almost literally.