Connelly Crime Family Trilogy Read online

  “Okay, okay!” he pleaded.

  I released the pathetic excuse for a man and he took a step back, swiping blood from the corner of his mouth, spitting some on the floor. “How long can you give me?”

  “End of the week. No more.” He nodded excitedly, grateful even and I knew I hadn’t gotten my point across. “I’m not fucking around with you, Michaels.”

  “Of course not. End of the week is perfect, by then I’ll be able to … ow! What the hell was that for?”

  I got in his face, close enough that I could see how fear transformed his eyes into a light, sea color. “That was to remind you that if the end of the week rolls around and you don’t have what you owe, to put you current, you’ll be wishing for what I did to you tonight.” I landed one more for good measure when I heard the twist of the knob.

  A shrill scream. “Stop! Fucker! Stop hitting him you fucking asshole! That’s my dad!”

  I stopped and turned to look at the screamer over my shoulder. Damn, she was hot. Stacked and curvy as fuck. Blonde, just how I liked ’em and with a mouth that only a filthy motherfucker like me could tame. She wore some kind of sexy office girl outfit, a tight skirt that showed off a slim waist, big tits and hips that were more than a handful. But it was those thick, fuck-me red lips that drew my attention and made my cock wake up and take notice. “Someone should tell your dad the importance of paying his fucking debts.”

  “Debts?” She looked shocked, confused, which I was more than prepared for.

  Why?

  Because family was always the last to know.

  Chapter Three

  Layla

  My heart raced about a million miles an hour as that tall, gorgeous man with the gold and green eyes glared at me, talking nonsense about debts. “Maybe you ought to get your facts straight, asshole. My dad doesn’t have any debts. I made sure of it.”

  When I came home from college a few years ago, I noticed that my father couldn’t survive without a little adult supervision. I took over paying his bills after coming over to find the electricity and water had been shut off and the phone didn’t work.

  Gorgeous Asshole, which is how I now thought of him, didn’t seem at all put off by my statement. In fact, the fucker smirked. It was the move arrogant jerks all over the world used. Only with this particular jerk, there was a dimple on his cheek that made him even more devastatingly handsome. And I was a sick daughter to even think of him like that.

  “Is that right?” he said.

  I nodded, confident in my words because I knew the bills were paid, but still the “Yep,” I squeaked out sounded less sure. I blamed it on his proximity and the fact that he’d bloodied my dad’s face.

  He turned to Dad. “You mean to tell me this pretty little thing has been taking care of your bills and you didn’t tell her about the most important one?”

  Gorgeous Asshole shook his head and smacked his lips as he pulled back his fist and let it go, smack in the center of Dad’s face.

  “Stop it!” The bags of groceries finally fell from my arms, hitting the floor with an unimpressive thud thanks to my five-foot-three frame. “Stop hitting him!” I ran the few feet to reach him, stepping between his raised fist and my battered father. “Just fucking stop, will you? We’ll get this figured out. Just stop!”

  I looked up at him and again, I was struck by how good-looking he was. Too good looking to be a guy who beat people up for a living.

  “It’s okay, princess,” my dad croaked out.

  I turned to my dad, frowning so hard I felt a headache coming on, or maybe it was this fucked up situation triggering a migraine. “What do you mean it’s okay? It’s not fucking okay, Dad, to let this guy beat you up over money.” After helping him into his favorite recliner, I turned to Gorgeous Asshole and aimed a candy apple red nail at him. “You! I should call the cops on you, coming in here to beat up on an old, unsuspecting drunk. What is your problem?”

  His lips, thick and full, formed into a perfect pout, twitched in amusement, which only pissed me off more. I was tired of people, specifically men, underestimating me. They either looked at me like a sex object or an incapable little girl. And I wasn’t either one.

  “My problem is that your father owes the family money and he hasn’t paid. In weeks.”

  A shiver slid down my spine at the deep timber of his voice, that scratchy, guttural sound that hit all the right nerve endings. “And so you thought beating the crap out of him would get your money faster? What in the hell kind of business is the family running?” I put up my fingers in air quotes. The Family. Hah!

  “The polite reminders don’t seem to be working.”

  Polite? “Polite? What a fucking joke! Polite? Let’s see how polite you are when the boys in blue show up.” Confident that would end this whole mess without Dad needing a trip to the ER, I reached for my phone and swiped to unlock the screen.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His voice changed. It was still low but the seductive quality now sounded lethal. Deadly.

  “Oh yeah, and why not? Oh that’s right, because you don’t want to go to jail. Well guess what, buddy? I don’t want my—” The words died on my lips when I looked up at the unfamiliar clicking sound that sounded close.

  Too close.

  “If you involve the police, this will get messy and I promise you, princess,” he said the word derogatively and my hands balled into fists, “you don’t want this kind of messy.”

  I didn’t even know what the hell that meant but I believed that he knew of a type of messy I couldn’t possibly dream up and wanted no part of. My gaze went to the gun he held in his hand. His steady, non-shaking hand showed he was comfortable with a gun. Too comfortable. “Fine, I won’t call. Yet,” I clarified. He might have the gun, but that didn’t mean Gorgeous Asshole would win. If he killed us, he would never get his money. That thought didn’t stop the knot in my gut though. “How much is this debt, Dad?”

  He looked up at me. One eye was swollen shut. His lip was split, and he had blood and bruises all over his face. My heart sank. He was so messed up. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I’m grown. I’ll handle this.”

  “Wrong answer. You’re the dad, but I’m the grownup here and I can’t possibly attempt to help you if I don’t know how much you owe.” He dipped his head low in embarrassment but his mouth remained shut and I turned to the green-eyed pummeler. “Well?”

  Gorgeous Asshole replied, “It’s more money than you have, princess. It’s a lot and it needs to be paid. Now.”

  Why did this man try to make everything he said sound like an invitation to get naked and sweaty? “Well how the hell am I supposed to pay it if you won’t tell me the amount, genius?”

  “Layla, stop. Please. Eamon don’t hurt her.”

  So Eamon was his name. Go figure with that smooth, shiny brown hair and those colorful eyes that I bet were sixteen shades of trouble. “I won’t stop, Dad. You owe him money, how much?” Both men nodded. “Great, so somebody tell me how much and I’ll get it paid.”

  Now neither of them had anything to say. No surprise there. “I’m handling it, Layla.”

  “Yeah Layla, he’s handling it,” the annoying Eamon said.

  “Just because this dick gets off on beating the shit out of people doesn’t make it handled. How did this happen, Dad? What is the money for?”

  “Oh, fuck,” Eamon grumbled behind me, a sound that was equal parts disbelief and worry.

  “Just a run of bad luck at the tables.”

  “The tables? What tables?” His clear eye, the one that wasn’t already swollen shut, gave me a look that said I couldn’t possibly be that stupid and now, it all made sense. He owed money not to Eamon’s family, but to The Family. Rocket may not have been Las Vegas, but I knew exactly what family with a capital ‘F’ meant.

  Bloody reminders.

  Cement shoes.

  Bodies in the desert.

  Debts paid one way or another.

  “You borrowed mone
y from the Connelly mob to fucking gamble? Dad, how could you?” I was beyond disappointed, beyond disgusted and deep down, terrified for my dad. Though it occurred to me that maybe I should be worried about me as well, now that I knew who and what, Eamon was.

  “I figured the streak had to heat up again, princess. Remember that year we went to Disney? That was a good year.”

  “Disney? Dad, I was twelve when that happened.” Mom had been dead for four years already and Dad had been a shell of himself, but still mostly happy and not quite as stressed. “Wait, you’ve been gambling since then? How in the hell did I not know this?”

  He nodded, not at all ashamed which pissed me off even more. “Your mom helped me keep things under control but without her, I’m useless. I’m sorry, honey.”

  Shit. I couldn’t take this anymore. I turned back to Eamon. “What can we do to settle this gambling debt?”

  Chapter Four

  Eamon

  She was feisty. I liked a feisty woman, they kept my dick hard all night long and if I let them, well into the morning. I knew what desire looked like and sweet, sassy Layla wanted me. I saw the way her big blue eyes landed on the muscles of my forearms, the way they went wide and her breath hitched. She hated my guts, I could see that too.

  But she also wanted me. And that fucking turned me on more than anything.

  “I’m just going to get my dad cleaned up,” she said, every syllable dripping with disdain. “Unless of course you want to beat on him some more?” Her eyes narrowed in anger as she stared up at me but all I could focus on was her mouth. Lush red lips and they weren’t painted on, nope, they were the burnished kind that looked more natural. The color that stayed long after she’d make me come with those perfect lips. The perfect dick-sucking mouth.

  “Nah, I don’t think you need any further reminders, do you Petey?” He shook his head and grinned at her. “Then go ahead and get the old man cleaned up. I’ll be right here.”

  “No need. You can go.”

  I laughed this time because this girl had energy. She should be scared. Hell, she should be fucking terrified of me, but she wasn’t. And it was hot as fuck. “I think I’ll wait right here.”

  She glared at me so hard, I could barely see the blue in her eyes before she dismissed me and helped her father down the hall.

  I didn’t mind. It gave me time to think about something I had no business thinking about, but with her spicy floral perfume still swirling in the air, it was the only damn thing I could think about. Layla. Even her name and the sight of those curves brought to mind that old song. Smooth rhythms, hot sex and late nights. I wanted Layla, that much was certain.

  The only uncertain thing was what in the hell was I prepared to do about it.

  How in the hell did a pathetic sack of shit like Peter Michaels produce that spitfire of a woman? She was bubbly and she was brave, standing up to me the way she did and in defense of a man who damn sure didn’t deserve it. A confident woman was sexy. But a woman with a good reason to be confident and could back it up? Well, that was a woman who belonged in my bed. Under me. On top of me.

  Coming around my cock.

  Damn, I needed to stop thinking with my dick and start thinking with my brain. There was no way in hell I could lead the family into the future if I let my cock guide me when it came to business decisions. That was Shae’s downfall. Then again, this might be exactly the kind of lesson our debtors needed to learn.

  “Is there a reason you’re still here?” Layla returned from the bathroom alone, which was probably for the best.

  “You wanted to know if there was some other way to repay your father’s debt.”

  “Yeah.” Arms crossed defensively, tapping her foot, she looked like she was ready to bolt or kick me in the nuts. Too bad I’d put my piece away already. Not that I’d use it on her, but fear was a sweet aphrodisiac. “And?”

  “I’ve decided there is a way. Would you like to hear it?” I was stalling because I needed a few more moments to think things through, to make sure this was worth the risk I’d be taking. If I did this, the money would have to come from someplace.

  “Well don’t keep me in suspense here.”

  Her attitude, even in the face of massive debt, decided for me. “I want you. In my bed. A hot night of fucking at my place. Me and you.”

  She laughed. Tossed her blonde hair back and laughed with her whole body. If I wasn’t having such a good time watching her tits—all natural—jiggle as she did it, I might have been upset. “You want me to date you—”

  “No, not date. Fuck. You know, now that I think about it, daddy’s debt is kind of a big deal. Let’s make it four nights. All night until morning or until I ask you to leave. When the fourth night is over, your father’s debt will be free and clear.”

  Layla opened her mouth to argue, probably to berate me, but I could tell the moment she got it. Really got it. She wanted me, so fucking me, letting me have my way with her body would be no hardship for her. I would make sure she was satisfied, and she’d come out a winner twice—no four times. “Four nights? You can’t be serious.”

  “I am serious, Layla. I never joke about money—or fucking.” I had what I wanted for the moment. My words would linger in her mind for the rest of the night. She wouldn’t be able to think about anything but me. My offer. What it might be like to fuck me. “I’ll find you tomorrow when I’ll expect an answer or the debt payment, your choice.”

  “Right. Until then, I guess.” She sounded put out and slightly beaten but the little hellcat wasn’t out of the fight. Not yet.

  “Try not to get into any trouble between now and then.” There was a little too much glee in her voice and that only made me laugh again.

  “And miss out on four nights of fucking? I wouldn’t dream of it. princess.” I left the apartment and closed the door just as a can came sailing at my head.

  Yeah, this would be fun.

  Chapter Five

  Layla

  I was still fuming over Eamon’s so-called proposition as I moved around Dad’s kitchen, whipping up a casserole for him to eat over the next few days. Making far more noise than cheeseburger noodle casserole required, my thoughts and my anger were all twisted up and aimed at Eamon. And Dad. If not for these two fucked up men—both awful in their own ways—I could be at home relaxing in the bath with a tall glass of Jack & Coke. Instead, I was chopping onions and green peppers to add to the ground beef, grating cheese and being domestic.

  Fuck, these guys pissed me off!

  Why in the hell was I doing this when the man sitting in his faithful fucking recliner was the one who’d had all the fun from spending all the money he’d borrowed? Why was I forced to step up and do the unthinkable just to keep him out of trouble? The more questions flashed in my mind, the angrier I got and the more noise I made in the kitchen. I knew what I had to do. Hell I’d do just about anything to keep harm from coming to my dad, even though he hadn’t thought about the future, about how he’d pay the money back. Or what would happen if he didn’t.

  “Layla, please.”

  Please? Was he seriously giving me shit about the noise I made while I cooked meals for him? “Please what, Dad?” I turned to stare angry daggers at him through the wall but there he stood, right in the doorway staring at me with sad blue eyes, well one sad blue eye and one swollen shut purple eye.

  “Please don’t do whatever it is Eamon Connelly asked you to do in order to forgive my debt.” He looked so broken and not just physically. Dad used to be a vibrant man so full of life that he was like a magnet, pulling everyone around him into his orbit. When Mom was alive, they’d been so happy and so in love, I envied that. Wanted it for myself someday because it made me believe in true love.

  But if I thought watching her die had been hard, watching him slowly die every damn day since was killing me. It had taught me a valuable lesson about love. It was a trap. Sure, you might end up like those couples who were happy together for fifty or sixty years. That would be
amazing and beautiful. But for most people, you found that the sick, cruel universe conspired to take love from you.

  By any means necessary.

  The sorrow and the cruelty were written all over my dad’s face, tearing me apart one tethered shred at a time. “What makes you think he asked me to do anything?”

  He sighed and raked a shaky hand through his damp hair, no longer greasy and stringy since his quick shower. “Because I know Eamon and more importantly, I know how the Connelly family operates.”

  I scoffed out loud at the certainty in his voice. “Oh, do you? Is that why you borrowed a sum so big neither of you cowards will tell me? Or worse, why you refused to pay them back, because you know them so well?” He opened his mouth to offer some excuse, but I was tired of them. “Because if you knew them so well, were you so damn worried about what they might do that you might have, I don’t know, paid them back? Or at least had the decency to tell me I might walk in and find some gangster beating the ever-loving crap out of you!”

  “Princess, please—”

  “No Dad, don’t princess me. I’m not in the mood for it. You know what happens if you don’t have that money by the end of the week, right?”

  His shoulders drooped and his head fell forward, giving me a quick glance at the thinning top of his graying blond hair. “Yeah, I know. And it’s my problem, not yours.”

  Could this insane person really be my father? “Tell me you’re kidding. Please tell me that you don’t think them maiming or killing you is somehow not my problem!” I sounded hysterical and I knew it, but the thing was, this version of my dad was infuriating.

  This wasn’t the same man who’d come to my volleyball games and cheered so loud he annoyed the other parents and the coaches. It wasn’t the same man who’d cheer loudly during my debate club performances, who’d taught me to ride a bike and who let me eat mashed potatoes and ice cream for a week after I broke my arm while attempting to fly out of a tree. No, this guy was a much paler, weaker, beaten down version of that guy. And as much as I loved him, I didn’t like him at all.