Awakened by Sin Page 4

  “Who’s going to fuck you?” he demanded.

  “Someone else if you don’t hurry,” she rasped.

  He pressed against her, and she sucked in a breath. He tightened his hold on her waist when she squirmed. He wasn’t even winded from holding her up. That added to her excitement. Every girl wanted to know a man could protect her… or fuck her against a wall without dropping her.

  “Who’s fucking you?” he asked again.

  “You aren’t fucking me, not yet.” She closed her eyes and let out a low moan. “I can imagine that other guy fucking me just like this. I think he would—”

  He embedded half his penis inside her. Her eyes flashed open as her body adjusted. He stared at her, face pained as he tried to hold himself back. The force of his personality, normally concealed beneath a thick layer of civility was on full display. She was blinded by its primitive beauty.

  “Marcus,” she whispered.

  The corner of his mouth quirked a second before he pushed until his pubic hair pressed against her smooth pussy. She dropped her head back and panted as his cock, which stretched her just right, made itself at home. Vibrators and dildos did nothing for her. She needed a pulsing, warm cock, skin to skin contact, a man breathing against her neck, and hands digging into her hips. She needed the real deal. The slut who had been under lock and key for far too long urged her to cover his face with kisses. Instead, she wrapped a hand around his nape and tugged on his hair.

  “Fuck me,” she ordered.

  He withdrew and slid home easily. She trembled with need. He closed his eyes. It was clear he was in ecstasy. The hands gripping her ass were going to leave bruises, but she didn’t care.

  He spread her thighs wide and began to move.

  “Say my name,” he ordered.

  “Marcus.” She would say whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t stop. “Harder.”

  He obeyed and began to hammer her into the wall. She felt battered and dirty and loved it. She looked over his shoulder at a full-length mirror. Her inner muscles milked him. He grunted, dug his fingers into her flesh, and fucked her even faster.

  She examined their reflection. Her heels bounced with each thrust, and the image of her legs splayed wide for him was titillating. He buried his face against her neck. Her gaze moved over his flexing ass, her nails clawing his back, and then her face. She released a handful of his suit to touch her cheek, not convinced the mirror was telling the truth. Her fingers came away wet.

  She watched her face crumple in the reflection with dazed confusion. Grief flooded her, shutting down her senses one by one. Her limbs became heavy, and all that wonderful lust, excitement, and anticipation dried up in a nanosecond. The conscience she drowned in alcohol coughed up vodka and began to scream at her that this wasn’t right—that she was still in love and cheating on Vinny’s memory. She buried her face against Marcus’s shoulder and hung on tight, willing his presence to banish the pain.

  He stopped. “Carmen?”

  She was trembling like a leaf in a storm. She clutched him desperately when he tried to draw back. “P-please.”

  “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  He was trying to draw away, and that was the last thing she wanted. A muffled sob escaped, and he went rigid. Despite her clutching limbs, he firmly extracted himself from her. She felt velvet beneath her butt as he settled her on a chaise in front of the vanity.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head and tried to wipe away the tears. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself as she began to rock. Her heart was being savaged by guilt and more pain than she could stand.

  “I need alcohol,” she said as her breath hitched. Oh, God. This couldn’t be happening.

  “I think you’ve had enough.”

  She reached out and clutched the lapels of his suit. “If you get me alcohol, we can finish. I can do this. I need to do this.”

  “You need to go home. Did you come with anyone?”

  His detached tone told her he was done. The moment had passed. She bowed her head and clamped her thighs together. “Alice.”

  He moved away from her. She heard the rasp of clothing, the clink of his belt, and then a zipper. She bowed her head as mortification consumed her. Oh, God, she was an epic failure on so many levels.

  “Alice, Carmen’s in the VIP bathroom. Can you take her home? She’s drunk and not feeling well. Yes. I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

  There was a stark silence after he hung up. She cringed, waiting for the hail of insults or disparaging comments. She deserved them. She lured one man in here with the sole purpose of getting laid, only to have Marcus take his place and then cry all over him during what would have been spectacular sex. How pathetic was she? Her husband had been gone for two years and her first attempt to exorcise him ended in tears. She wished she could go back to feeling nothing. Shame wasn’t better than grief.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

  Carmen shook her head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His polite apology made her flinch. This was her fault, not his. Even as she opened her mouth to reciprocate, she heard the soft snick of the door closing behind him. She buried her face in her hands as she drowned in humiliation and self-loathing.

  “Carmen?”

  The smell of fresh flowers reached her a second before Alice did. Desperate for human contact and a safe place, she wrapped her arms around her friend.

  “Are you all right?” Alice asked as she rubbed her back.

  She nodded since she wasn’t capable of speech at the moment.

  “Can you walk?”

  She nodded again.

  “Good. Marcus says there’s a back exit.”

  Alice helped her stand. She wobbled for a moment on her hooker heels and then steadied.

  “Um …” Alice brushed her dress down.

  She didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed over her crotch less underwear. Alice put an arm around her waist, which wasn’t necessary, but it felt nice, so she leaned against her. Whey they exited, they came face to face with the bathroom attendant.

  “Oh my gosh! What happened?” the bathroom attendant exclaimed.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be inside the bathroom, not outside?” Alice asked sharply.

  “I paid her to stand outside,” she said wearily and directed Alice toward the exit.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I was being stupid.”

  “How?”

  She didn’t answer. They approached the back exit, which was guarded by a bouncer. He took one look at her face and opened the door. Crying was bad for business, after all. They walked into the casino. Despite the late hour, it was brimming with people. Normally, crowds didn’t blip on her radar, but right now facing a host of gawking strangers was the last thing she wanted.

  As if Alice could read her mind, she said, “Here, let’s go through the employee exit. Are you feeling sick?”

  “No,” she said and kept her head bowed as Alice navigated through the casino.

  “I’m not going to let you drive. Where do you live?”

  Her mother didn’t need to see her looking a hot mess. “Can I crash at your place?”

  “Of course.”

  Alice led her through the employee hallways to the parking garage and helped her into the passenger seat of a yellow VW Beetle. She clamped her legs together as the space between her legs pulsed.

  “Why did you pay the bathroom attendant to stand outside?” Alice asked as she backed out of her stall. “For that matter, how did Marcus know you were in the bathroom in the first place?”

  Those stupid tears were coming back. She hiccupped and covered her face with her hands.

  Alice patted her knee. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Just rest.”

  She huddled against the door and moaned as her conscience savaged her. By the time they reached Alice’s apartment, she was
crying uncontrollably. Alice spoke to her in a tone reserved for children and helped her out of her shoes and dress and handed her a nightgown covered in rabbits. Alice wiped away her makeup and settled beside her on a flowery sofa.

  “You shouldn’t drink so much,” Alice chided gently as she stroked her hair.

  “I can’t stand it,” she whispered.

  “Stand what?”

  “The pain.”

  “Your husband?”

  More tears fell. “I love him so much. I don’t know how to go on without him.”

  “I’m sorry, Carmen.”

  An echo of Marcus’s words and once more, unnecessary. “I’ll get past it.” She had to. There was no alternative.

  3

  Present Day

  The day Vincent Pyre died, her heart stopped beating. It lay still and heavy in her chest for two years and six months. She observed life passing her by with little interest. In her darkest hours, she wondered if the world would notice her absence.

  Carmen sat on a rocking chair in her goddaughter’s nursery with her heartbeat thudding in her ears. She was vibrantly, achingly alive. Her senses were so jacked that her skin tingled. She was very aware of Nora’s body heat seeping through her sweater, the luxurious wool carpet beneath her bare feet, and the gold clock on the wall ticking ridiculously loud.

  The monster who called the hit on her husband and brutally murdered Emmanuel Pyre was back with a vengeance. The trail of carnage he left in his wake would go down in underworld history. Lyla had been kidnapped from the hospital while visiting her mother in the ICU. Hours passed with no word of her whereabouts.

  The monster had Lyla. She knew it. He would finish what he started. The knowledge of what he was capable of made her tremble. The ferocity of her emotions was so intense that she was afraid to move for fear of losing control. She tightened her hold on Nora who stared up at her with her mother’s eyes.

  Her senses prickled a moment before she noticed Gavin standing in the doorway of the nursery. His impeccable suit, slick hair, and remote expression revealed nothing, but the wrath shining from his gold eyes told her all she needed to know. Lyla was still missing.

  She rose as he started forward. She already knew the answer, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Did you find her?”

  “I got a call from Lucifer,” he said.

  “Lyla’s in Hell?”

  She was glad Gavin took Nora because her arms went lax with fear. She grew up hearing tales of what lurked in Hell, the taboo underbelly of Las Vegas that no one spoke of. Lucifer was the current king of Hell, and if the rumors were true, he was even more deranged and cruel than his father. Only one with no regard for their life dared venture into the notorious death club.

  Gavin buried his face against his daughter. Nora grasped handfuls of his hair and tugged. Light bounced off the brass knuckles that adorned his hand. She saw the glint of knives beneath his jacket instead of guns. The rumors must be true. No modern weapons were allowed in Hell.

  Gavin raised his head and stared down at his daughter who waved her arms and kicked restlessly. The hands that held Nora trembled ever so slightly. She sensed the battle taking place inside of him.

  “Gavin,” she whispered.

  He may be an A-class asshole but witnessing him with his daughter had gone a long way to making up for his past sins. He stared at Nora for a long minute before he tipped the baby against his chest.

  “Gavin,” she said again, and his eyes flicked to her. “Bring her back.”

  He nodded and handed the baby over. “Take care of her.”

  Her throat began to close. “Gavin.”

  “No matter what happens, take care of Nora.”

  Fear grabbed her by the throat, and twin trails of wet slipped down her cheeks.

  “Promise me,” he snapped.

  “You can’t do this to me.”

  “Promise me, Carmen.”

  She grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him forward. He was a badass motherfucker. She had no doubt that he would do whatever was necessary to save Lyla, but if he was too late… She thrust that thought away before it could fully form. She glared at Gavin, a man she loved and loathed with equal passion. He had been her brother, enemy, and friend at different times in her life, but all of that faded away. Right here, right now, she had to believe he would come out of this whole with Lyla by his side. No other outcome was acceptable.

  “You bring her back,” she said fiercely as the tears continued to fall. “And you make that motherfucker pay.” For Vinny, for Manny, for all the hell he had put the Pyre clan through. The monster needed to pay for his sins.

  He nodded, and she released him.

  “You got this, Gavin,” she said and willed both of them to believe it.

  “You armed?” he asked.

  She lifted her sweater to show the gold gun in the waistband of her pants. It didn’t matter that the property was crawling with security. After what had occurred in the past forty-eight hours, she wouldn’t be caught without a weapon.

  Gavin strode away, head held high and back straight. An invisible cloak of violence clung to him. People would die tonight, she was sure of it. There was a trap lying in wait for him in Hell. Lyla was the bait, and Gavin was armed with only knives and brass knuckles.

  “Be safe,” she called.

  This was the finale, the last battle in a war that had been raging for almost three years. Vinny was the first victim the monster claimed. Tonight, it would end. Thoughts of encouragement, threats, and demands raced through her mind. She took a breath to call out one last time, but he was gone.

  It took every ounce of control she possessed to stay behind. This was the second time in a matter of days that Nora’s parents had asked her to look after their kid while they put their lives on the line. What the fuck? She was the one who should be charging into the bowels of hell. She was dispensable. She had no husband, kid, or responsibilities. Lyla and Gavin had a daughter, a future.

  Nora’s lip quivered before she burst into tears. She felt like doing the same, but she reined it in and paced around the cream and gold nursery while she tried to soothe the distressed baby. Nora pounded her little fists against her chest in frustration. She brushed kisses over soft skin and cuddled the baby close.

  “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”

  She hoped Nora didn’t notice the quaver in her voice or the fact that she was stiff as a board. She should put Nora in the crib since she was transferring her anxiety to the baby, but she couldn’t let her go. Nora kept her sane. She breathed in that baby scent she couldn’t get enough of and tried to shrug off the dread chilling her core. Lyla had to be alive. They would all get through this.

  “Daddy will bring her back,” she whispered.

  Nora needed her mother, and she needed her best friend. Lyla had been through too much to die now.

  It had been a hellish two days. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept. The monster had been a step ahead of them this whole time, successfully concealing his identity and biding his time while he schemed and hunted. The future of the underworld rested on the tip of a knife. Her future depended on the outcome of what took place in Hell tonight.

  The kickoff began when Lyla’s father, Pat, showed up in the middle of the night, looking like a bloody extra from Pulp Fiction. He claimed his house had been broken into and Lyla’s mother kidnapped. While they were trying to get the details from him, the fortress was attacked. It had been a marathon of terror—the race through the underground tunnel, the trek across the desert to the safe house, and Pat’s betrayal. She would never forget Lyla’s blank expression as she watched her father crumple beside the bed with blood pouring from the wound in his gut. Lyla’s father had sold them out and led the monster’s men straight to them. Even now, the foul taste of betrayal lingered on her tongue. The monster could manipulate anyone to do what he wished. If they couldn’t trust family, who could they trust?

  She closed her eyes and whispered prayers
into the yawning silence. The monster had been a step ahead of them for years. If Lyla’s father was capable of killing his own granddaughter, anyone could be working for the monster. She had to be on guard. Nora Pyre had been born to the most dangerous crime lord Las Vegas had ever seen, and for that, she would be hunted for the rest of her life. It was only a matter of time before he sent someone for Nora. If Gavin didn’t make it… No. Something lethal and vicious unfurled in her gut. She brushed her hand over the warm metal pressed against her belly. They would have to get through her first.

  A muffled sound behind her made her tense. She whirled, one arm holding Nora while the other brought up her gun. Her skittering senses came to a dead stop when she saw Marcus standing in the doorway. Even in the middle of the night, he was impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit with a handkerchief folded into a sharp triangle in his pocket. His perfect side part made him look like a sexy banker.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Blade called me, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he said far too calmly for a man who faced a woman with a gun.

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t lower the gun or move a muscle. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not after what she had been through. The monster exploited with a ruthlessness that made everyone a suspect.

  “Carmen, put the gun down.”

  “I think you should leave.”

  He didn’t do as she suggested. Instead, he stayed put, stretching her already frayed nerves to the breaking point.

  “What’s going through your head right now?” he asked.

  “You’re too perfect,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “You filled Vinny’s place so easily.” Her overactive mind pieced together strange facts that made no sense. “Gavin put you, a former intern, as interim CEO while he was in jail. Gavin doesn’t trust anyone, but he trusts you as much as he trusts Blade, and they’ve known each other for decades. Why?”

  The gun wavered as Nora fussed. Logic and instinct battled within her. Two days ago, she wouldn’t have questioned Marcus’s loyalty, but witnessing Pat’s betrayal changed everything. They were at war, which meant she couldn’t assume anyone’s loyalty was absolute. Her head throbbed as Marcus remained motionless in the doorway. This was just another scene in the nightmare that wouldn’t end.